#and he's a flirt but he's the only man in the series capable of treating women normally and being friend with them AND he hates authority | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dysfunctionalmaki · 3 years

Text

Lucifer x MCU

Trust Issues

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Morningstar!Reader; Pietro Maximoff x Fem!Morningstar!Reader

Summary: One of your teammates still hasn't warmed up to you, not believing any words that came out of your mouth.

A/N: Since Sokovia isn't a real country, I chose to use Russian when Wanda and Pietro are speaking in their mother tongue, and I used google translate :')

Warnings: none, let me know if there's any.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

"So, you mean that you're already a billion years old? And your father is Lucifer, the Devil himself... Your grandfather's God?" Tony asked, then you nodded your head as you settle on the couch in the common room, with a bowl of ice cream in your hands.

"Yeah, my grandfather's God, after all, he's my dad's father. That's how it works, right? You still find it hard to believe, huh? An angel in Avengers." You winked at Tony, then you smirk before taking a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. "Trust me, it isn't easy to get used to this visual, Stark." You chuckle.

"If you're an angel, that means there are others here on Earth, where were you guys when we needed help?" You shrugged at Steve's question, he scoffed as if he's annoyed with your lack of response. "Maybe they didn't want anything to do with y'all, and besides you guys look like you can handle yourselves." You told Steve.

"Yeah, right, I do believe your abilities, Morningstar, but I'm not buying your background story." You rolled your eyes, before placing down the cold dessert you're snacking on the table. "Oh, Rogers, my father never taught me to lie." You smiled, annoying the man than he already is.

Tony watches your whole interaction with Steve with interest, fiddling with a pen, and chuckling when he saw Rogers clenching his jaw in annoyance.

"The Devil? Lucifer's daughter? Not telling lies? Are you hearing yourself? You're being disrespectful to God if you go on with that story of yours." Steve lets out, then you blew raspberries and not wanting to deal with Rogers, instead, you stood up and made your way towards him.

"Believe what you want to believe, Rogers, I'm only telling the truth here." You patted his muscular chest, he swatted your hand off him, and you fetched your bowl of half-eaten ice cream and you bid your goodbye to Tony.

On your way back to your room, Pietro was speeding past you and almost knocked the treat off from your hold, he quickly came back when he realized what he did.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to bump? Crash? Eh, you know what I mean" He stuttered with his words as if he's a middle-school kid asking the girl he likes to dance, you softly smiled at the latter, and noticing his face getting red.

"I know, you've got nothing to worry about, Pietro, I'm sure you'll catch me when I fall, right?" You batted your eyelashes at him, then he smiled foolishly. "Of course, I wouldn't want an angel falling when I'm capable of catching her." He flirted, then he tensed up when the two of you heard someone clearing their throat.

It's his twin sister, Wanda Maximoff, you can't deny that the siblings got great genes, considering how good-looking the two are.

"Пьетро, я считаю, тебе пора идти, Фьюри тебя ищет. Флирт во время работы не рекомендуется. (Pietro, I believe you should get going now, Fury's looking for you. Flirting during the job isn't advisable.)" Wanda suddenly spoke in their native language, the latter must be assuming that you're not able of understanding them.

"Что у тебя такое взъерошенное перо? Я только извиняюсь перед Морнингстар, я чуть не врезался в нее. (What's got your feather all ruffled? I'm only apologizing to Morningstar, I almost crashed into her.)" Pietro defended himself, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing towards your direction, you decided to shut up and listen furthermore to their conversation.

"Просто уходи, тебе не захочется заставлять Фьюри ждать. (Just go, you wouldn't want to keep Fury waiting)" Wands told her brother, you took another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, awkwardly standing in between the twins.

"Хорошо, я вернусь, как только смогу, береги себя, сестра. (Alright, I'll be back as soon as I can, take care, sister.)" Pietro says before speeding off, leaving you and Wanda alone in the hallway, and you thought maybe this is the perfect time to let her know you understood their whole conversation.

"О, я могу понять Соковиана, Ванда, поверь мне, я только шучу с твоим братом, мне нравится его сестра. (Oh, I can understand Sokovian, Wanda, trust me I'm only joking around with your brother, it's his sister that I like.)" The latter widened her eyes when you spoke fluently as if you've been a citizen in Sokovia, you softly laughed finding her reaction adorable.

"О чем ты говоришь? (What are you talking about?)" She spoke with her brows knitted in a frown, and a smile dangled on the corner of your lips. "Зависит от того, как ты хочешь это понять, красавица. (Depends on how you'd like to understand it, beautiful.)" You told Wanda.

"Я- гм, мне пора, Наташа меня ждет. (I- Uhm, I've got to go Natasha's waiting for me.)" She stuttered just like her twin earlier, seems like no one can match your boldness in the team. "Хорошо, увидимся, скажи Наташе, что я сказал привет. (Alright, I'll see you around, tell Natasha I said hi.)" You say before proceeding into getting in your room.

With your back turned, you didn't get to see Wanda checking you out, her eyes watching how your hips rolled and undulated while making your way into your respective room.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

As soon as Pietro arrived he didn't show himself to Fury when he overhears him talking to Rogers, and they were talking about you. "I still think it's stupid that you're just going to allow that Morningstar in the team, we don't know where that girl came from, why does suddenly everybody trust her?" Pietro heard Steve who is furious.

"You let the Maximoff twins into the team, did you hear something from me?" Fury retorted, cocking his eyebrow upwards at the latter. "Because we knew where they came from, how they have their abilities, and their background," Steve replied.

"Bring Y/N in one of your missions, see for yourself on how useful she is, and she already elaborated where she came from, why do you question the girl so much? Are you questioning my decisions, Rogers?" Fury stood up from his seat, then maintaining eye contact with Steve.

"Because her story is not so believable, Lucifer's daughter? Born and raised in hell? Her grandfather is God? She's spitting lies." Fury rubbed his temple at Rogers' stubbornness. "There's nothing I can do for you anymore at this point, that girl or her father is anything but a liar." Fury defended you.

Before Steve could speak, Pietro entered the room. "I heard you called for me?" Even he could feel the tension inside the office, Steve greeted the young man with a nod before leaving the place, "Just in time, Maximoff, I got an easy task for you." Fury says.

"Ready to comply, Sir," Pietro told with enthusiasm, but he can't help but worry about whatever Steve would do, to find out more about you. "Sir, if you don't mind me asking, do you trust Y/N?" He asked the man behind the desk.

"What do you think, Maximoff?" He asked Pietro back, and the blonde just nodded his head, earning a smirk from Fury. You've only been in the compound for a week, you never did any missions yet, but you managed to gain everybody's trust, except Steve.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

"Miss Morningstar, Captain Rogers wishes for your presence at the common room." Vision spoke as he came out of your wall, at this point you're used to it so you don't mind him, entering and exiting without a word. "Vis? You know you can call me Y/N, right?" You spoke softly at the synthezoid.

"Ah yes, my apologies, Mis- Y/N." He smiled gently, which made your heart melt, you didn't know that this android is something of someone you'd find so adorable. "That's more like it, I'll be out in a minute to see, Rogers, you can go back to whatever you're doing, thanks for letting me know, Vis." You thanked him and before he would disappear, you hear a silent 'you're welcome'.

You came out of your room, then heading into the common room you see some equipment scattered and an unfamiliar man talking to Steve. "Captain Rogers? Missing me already?" You smiled confidently, yet all you receive is Steve's scrunched brows. "And hello, stranger." You greeted the man.

"This is John, he's the one who operates the machine to see if you're lying or not, I'll be asking you some questions," Steve told, and you sat down on the chair in front of the machine, then John started attaching some necessities to your body. "This seems… kinky?"

John suddenly choked on his own, before settling himself next to you, and Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you promise to tell nothing but the truth?" That's where he started, but you chuckle seeing him so serious and threatened? About you.

"Yes." You answered, them John says that you weren't lying.

"Where did you came from?" Rogers asked, then you rolled your eyes at his question that he probably asked for the nth time. "Hell, busy punishing bad people down there with Dad." John looks at you confusingly but he approved Steve that you're telling the truth.

"When did you come here on Earth?" He asked once more, and you let out an annoyed sigh. "Two years after my father came here." You answered truthfully, and Steve sighed in defeat when he told the Captain that you're telling facts.

An hour after Steve questioning you, and the lie detector on your side, the team saw you getting interrogated, then that's where nonsense questioning came in.

"Who do you think is the most attractive Avenger?" Sam asked, leaning against the door frame and you chuckle. "I'd say me but if you're asking for another it's either Nat or Wanda, I can't choose between them actually." Your answer, Wanda blushed at your compliment once again and Natasha smirked.

John nodded signing you told another fact. "Alright, enough of this, thank you for lending your time, John." Steve cut the fun and earned countless groans of disapproval from the team. You took off all the devices attached to your body, and you stretched your arms.

"Do you trust me now, Rogers? You ask Steve, instead of an answer you receive nothing but dead air. "I never tell lies." You added, but Steve didn't say anything and he escorted John out.

"He'll warm up to you eventually, angel." Natasha commented, then you turn to her. "I know, I'll just give the old man some time to process all the information." You replied.

211 notes · View notes

shortnotsweet · 3 years

Text

The Allegory of the Tin Man, the Dictator, and the Knight: a Dissection of Ironqrow and a Character Arc of Failure

“There lived in the Land of Oz two queerly made men who were best of friends. They were so much happier when together that they were seldom apart.”

— L. Frank Baum

A brief Ironqrow meta and character analysis of James Ironwood, the ultimate screw up, in three parts.

I. Qrow and Ironwood’s Homoeroticism in Canon Source Material and its Translation

II. Ironwood’s Repressed Characterization and the Inherent Chivalry of the Dictatorship

III. Ironwood, Alone

Qrow and Ironwood’s Homoeroticism in Canon Source Material and its Translation

Within the Oz series, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow are layered within homoerotic subtext, even if it is included unintentionally. Tison Pugh’s analysis Queer Utopianism and Antisocial Eroticism in L. Frank Baum's Oz Series posits that the land of Oz as portrayed within the series is a largely asexual environment of suspended adolescence that involves the deviation of binary gender norms, and of performative heterosexuality. Pugh refers to it later as a “queer utopia”. Men are portrayed as a lesser military force to women, and heterosexuality is a flimsy presence at best; all signs of procreation within Oz are stifled. While this could be chalked down to Baum not wanting to get into the subject of sex and exploration in a children’s series, it does contribute to a particular tone with real-life critiques of capitalism and a particular deconstruction of gender norms. Ozma, who will become the ruler of Oz after the Wizard and the Scarecrow respectively, for example, is originally a boy named Tip (the name itself holds phallic implications) who is “transformed” into a girl. The strongest military force is one of all-women led by a rebellious female general. Pugh observes, “At the same time that Baum satirizes...women as leaders…he consistently depicts women as more successful soldiers than men, and female troops appear better capable of serving militarily than male troops…[the] male army comprises of twenty-six officers and one private, and they are all cowards…” and cites the Frogman’s declaration that “Girls are the fiercest soldiers of all...they are more brave than men, and they have better nerves”.

RWBY itself isn’t opposed to this kind of subversion, either in its characters or its relationships. There’s an obvious effort to include LGBTQ+ representation (albeit primarily in the background), strong female characters are prevalent and make up most of the main and supporting cast, a character’s gender is not strictly reliant on its source material, and BlackSun, while cute and a valid ship in its own right, is treated as a heterosexual red herring to Bumbleby. Additionally, there have been a lot of hints by the voice actors, writers, and creators on social media that Qrow himself is queer, the infamous Ironqrow embrace included.

Admittedly, if I wanted to write an essay about the likelihood of Qrow being LGBTQ+ or having some kind of queer identity, I would probably focus more on his relationship with Clover, which had a lot more overt and probably canonically intentional Gay Vibes, and despite having known Qrow nowhere near as long as Ironwood has, it has just as much, if not more, to extrapolate. Unfortunately, that’s not the main point of this essay, although it remains relevant. While I personally don’t doubt that Qrow has had sex with women or experiences valid sexual attraction to them, I get the feeling that it is, to a degree, a performative act and a masculine assertation of enjoyment intended as a coping mechanism. It plays into the trope of the handsome, tortured alcoholic (best exemplified, perhaps, in the MCU’s Tony Stark, Dean Winchester in Supernatural, and critiqued in the superhero episode of Rick and Morty) who sleeps around just to recall the feeling of intimacy, or because he associates sexual ‘degradation’ as a reflection of his worth. Real self-deprecating, slightly misogynistic stuff. Qrow’s recall of short skirts, as well as his brief exchange with the waitress in an earlier volume, reminds me of one specific interaction between the Scarecrow and his own love interest. Within the series, the Qrow’s source-material counterpart, the Scarecrow, has one canonical love interest, the Patchwork Girl:

“Forgive me for staring so rudely,” said the Scarecrow, “but you are the most beautiful sight my eyes have ever beheld.”

“That is a high compliment from one who is himself so beautiful,” murmured Scraps, casting down her suspender-button eyes by lowering her head.

Pugh points out that the two of them never develop this relationship further than flirtation, and heterosexuality is reduced to a “spectral presence” lacking the “erotic energy [driving] these queer narratives in their presence”. Specifically, Qrow never reveals a serious or long running heterosexual love interest - he is not the father! [of Ruby] (despite much speculation that he and Summer Rose were involved) and he and Winter never really moved past the stage of ‘hostility with just a hint of sexual tension’ - and there is no debunking of potential queerness. His interactions with Clover (deserving of an entire essay on its own) seem to support this interpretation, and is more or less a confirmation of some kind of queer inclination or identity. Again, the “queer utopia” of Oz comes at the cost of the expulsion of the sexual or the mere mention of reproduction - still, through this device, same-sex relationships gain a new kind of significance with the diminishing nature of heterosexuality. Speaking of queer narratives, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man have the most tender and prolonged relationship of perhaps all the characters in the series, exchanging a lifelong commitment:

“I shall return with my friend the Tin Woodman,” said the stuffed one seriously. “We have decided never to be parted in the future.”

Within the source material, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow voluntarily live together, and are life partners in nearly every sense of the word. The second book in the Oz series is The Tin Woodman of Oz. In summary, the Tin Woodman recalls that he had a fiancée before the events of the first book, forgot all about her, and now must search her out so that they can get married. Who does he ask to accompany him in this pursuit? None other than his no-homo life partner, the Scarecrow. Although this sounds like a stereotypical heteronormative storyline, “this utopian wonderland...rejects heterosexual procreation...First, the Tin Woodman does not desire...Nimmie Amee...” and even acknowledges that due to the ‘nature’ of the heart that the Wizard had given him, he is literally incapable of romantically or passionately loving or desiring Nimmie, and by extent, women in general - to me, that works perfectly as an allegory for a gay man who is literally incapable of experiencing legitimate heterosexual urges, but ‘soldiers on’ out of obligation and societally enforced chivalry. “The Tin Woodman excuses himself from the heteronormative imperative...Only his sense of masculine honor, rather than a heteronomratively masculine sex drive, impels the Tin Woodman on his quest to marry his long-lost fiancée.” Again, Ironwood’s character follows the lines of propriety within the sphere of the wealthy elite, and his persona as a high-ranking military man and politician, as well as the conservative values instilled within Atlas, prioritize duty and obligation. This kind of culture is stifling and in a lot of ways aloof, as the upper class deludes itself into believing that it is objectively better and more advanced than its neighboring territories. *ahem the myth of American exceptionalism ahem*

“There lived in the Land of Oz two queerly made men who were best of friends. They were so much happier when together that they were seldom apart.”

I think it’s funny that the characters that Ironwood and Qrow are based off of are canonically the closest of friends, who coexist almost as a unit. In contrast, the first introduction we get of Ironwood and Qrow is a hostile exchange where they’re at each other’s throats, never on the same page, and never in sync, not when it matters. Indeed, Qrow snaps at Ironwood for his lack of communication, which is a recurring issue between the two of them on notable occasions. If the source material is anything to go by, there should be a significant relationship between the two of them, or at least some kind of connection, even if it goes unspoken or unacknowledged. To be fair, in RWBY’s canon, I think there is.

I’ve seen this joke that while Qrow hates the Atlas military, the only people he really seems to flirt with is Atlas military personnel. “Ice Queen” is something I interpreted to be partially hostile, partially mocking, and partially flirtatious, in equal spades - the voice actors and creators have indicated that it was flirtatious, and there was a whole Chibi episode dedicated to the concept of Qrow and Winter’s extrapolated sexual tension, albeit in jest. I might argue that his use of abbreviates aren’t reserved for people he dislikes, but for people who bring out his playful side. “Brat”, “Pipsqueak”, “Firecracker”, and “Kiddos” are all drawn from a place of affection, however short or mocking it may seem, because that’s what crows do: they mock others.

Qrow has little nicknames for people; while it’s not exclusively a sign of affection, I do get the feeling that ‘Jimmy’ is an informality that irks Ironwood, but can also be interpreted as Qrow giving James what he needs, rather than what he wants.

Glynda is by no means a pushover, but in assuring him that while he does questionable things, he’s still a good person, she’s softening the blow and probably further enabling deeply rooted and pre-existing traits, many of which contribute to his problematic control complex. It is established early on that Qrow resents the military (as he should), and it is implied that he’s spent a fair amount of encounters harassing and provoking military personnel (Winter being the most evident example of this), and has insulted the military numerous times to Ironwood’s face. He lectures Ironwood about the way he conducts his operations, his inability to communicate, and basically what a complete, inconsiderate asshole he really is.

What Ironwood needs is someone who operates outside of the pretense that he works, breathes, and lives under, and just tells it like it is. Jimmy isn’t all that - he’s a person, just like the rest of us, and he can flaunt all the titles that he wants, but James stripped down is still just Jimmy.

Qrow also is the kind of person who pries, who is insistent, and not particularly sensitive. For someone like Ironwood who has a lot of (physical and emotional) barriers, logically, in order for him to receive genuine understanding, Qrow fits the profile of someone who is invasive but not exploitive, who sees past the cracks in his armor and takes him for what he is. What is just important is that whoever Ironwood is with is someone who makes him want to try not only to be better, but to be real; thematically, General Ironwood seems to have a great respect for but a deep struggle with authenticity. He clearly resents the ignorance and frivolity of Atlas’s wealthy elite, as evidenced by his support for Weiss at the dinner party in announcing that “she’s one of the only people making any sense around here”, while struggling to project the facade that he’s carefully created.

See, we don’t have evidence that there is something going on between Ironqood and Qrow so much as we have enough evidence to inconclusively say that there’s not not something going on. I think there’s enough evidence to support the idea that something could be going on, or was going on.

When Qrow saves Ironwood at the Battle of Beacon, who is under the false impression that Qrow believes him to be the culprit of the attacks, his eyes follow Qrow and we get a closer shot of his awed expression; we the viewer can only imagine what he sees as Qrow arcs through the air and slices down a Grimm from behind his back. The focus on Ironwood’s expression portrays something like shock (so Qrow wasn’t trying to attack me after all, but then what the hell is he doing?), maybe wonder (I can’t take my eyes off of him, I can’t look away), maybe respect (I know he’s a good Hunter, but I’ve rarely seen him in action), but it is unfiltered nonetheless. In a show where fight scenes are vital to the progression of the story itself, the dynamics of these fights are at their best when they are character driven, whether it is revealing or reinforcing something about the characters and their relationships, or it is deciding their fates. There’s something to be said about characters being given moments together in battles, and what that says about the significance of their relationship. The best example of this might be the battle between Blake and Yang vs Adam; it served to give Adam what he deserved, help Blake and Yang reach closure in certain aspects of their own trauma, and solidify the bond between the girls. Similarly, Qrow and Ironwood’s moment is meant to reveal a theme that will later be revisited in volume 7; trust. Ironwood is startled but not shocked when he believes that Qrow distrusts him to the degree of attacking him, and is ready to attack or defend as needed.

Qrow tells him what he needs to hear, more or less: YOU’RE A DUMBASS. Ironwood is, indeed, a dumbass. While he does extend the olive branch of trust and good will to CRWBY and co. this trust is highly conditional and proves to be, while from a place of desperation and sincerity, at least partially performative.

When Ironwood snaps, he snaps hard.

Amber’s voice actress tweeted early on, joking that Qrow has two Atlas boyfriends, and Arryn has made comments, too. It’s one of the older ships, and the crew is certainly aware of it (“...extended chest bump...”).

Kerry has stated that he finds the Ironqrow relationship interesting, and wishes it had been explored more (additionally, allegedly lobbying that Ironwood’s arm in the Ironqrow hug scene be slightly lower). I’m not saying that they’re going to both make it out alive, or canon, or even that romantic subtext was intentionally woven into the script. All I’m saying is that I think their relationship is interesting too, especially when the subtext of their source material relationship is taken into context, and the way their characters are positioned is suggestive of some sort of compatibility, even if it is a hit or miss kind of opportunity, and I have the sinking suspicion that it was missed on both accounts.

The Tin Woodman of Oz concludes,

“All this having been happily arranged, the Tin Woodman returned to his tin castle, and his chosen comrade, the Scarecrow, accompanied him on the way. The two friends were sure to pass many pleasant hours together in talking over their recent adventures, for as they neither ate nor slept they found their greatest amusement in conversation.”

Ironwood’s Repressed Characterization and the Inherent Chivalry of the Dictatorship

“I don’t give a damn about Jacque Schnee...what about the other two? Do not return to this office until you have Qrow Branwen in custody.”

“And that’s not all we’ve lost...I had Qrow in my hands, and I didn’t do what needed to be done.”

Observe: Ironwood, at this point, does not care about politics. I doubt he’s ever wanted to, or ever liked it (if his tired outburst at the dinner party is any indication) but his Knightly qualities (we’ll get to that) have, up till this point, prompted him to adhere to them for both power and etiquette. James surrounds himself in a world that he understands and despises; more than anything, he’d like to be a general, a commander, and the Knight in Shining Armor archetype, because warfare is something he understands. It is a testament to his (superhuman) willpower that he forces himself to become fluent in the language of politics, and to live and breathe in it. To clarify, Ironwood sees himself as a man who does what needs to be done; if he wants to change and control Atlas, he will have to involve himself in its politics.

Likely, his resilience has contributed to the way he views himself and what he deserves, as someone long-suffering and almost martyr-like, a silent hero doing what needs to be done. But at the moment, he’s lost his goddamn mind coming undone. He’s murdered and jailed his political dissent (and might have considered executing prisoners), but at this point, that’s all that Jacque and Robyn are to him. First he dismisses Jacque, narrows it down to the two escaped prisoners, and finally reveals what’s really on the forefront of his mind: Qrow, free and out of his hands.

[ When recalling this dialogue, please do so while imagining a bad recorder cover of the Titanic music playing over the background. Here is a sample. ]

In the most recent episode, Ironwood seems to have gone off the rails even further. The fact that Winter, his most faithful lieutenant, is losing her unshakable faith in him, says a lot about how hard he’s fallen off the deep end. In Winter’s mind, I think that she sees him almost as a surrogate father figure, or at least a patriarch who can be positively compared to Jacques in every way. The previous volumes go to lengths to compare the two as adversaries and showing James in a favorable light; Winter is in her own personal horror right now, because she is beginning to understand that Ironwood is a man who may not be her father but is just as susceptible to corruption, and may have been that kind of person all along. Skipping over the...ah, genocidal tendencies, and the fact that he’s proposing to kidnap Penny’s friends to force her to obey him and likely is starting to realize that Winter is the perfect bait (let’s just say that “Ironwood is not good with kids” is the understatement of the year) Ironwood wants Qrow back (in captivity), I think that it’s significant that while Ironwood registers that Robyn is gone as well, his first priority is Qrow, probably for two reasons. On one hand, he still refers to Qrow by his first name, instead of the formal Branwen. Of course, that doesn’t have to mean anything at all. They’re colleagues within the same age range, both members of the same secret brotherhood and similiar skill sets.

On the other hand, it reminds me of the moment when Qrow and the kids first fly into Atlas, and they see the heightened security, and Qrow mutters, “James...what have you been doing,” under his breath, sounding concerned, apprehensive. He’s not addressing the kids, he’s talking to himself; he regards James much more seriously both as a potential threat and a friend than he’d rather the other know, and I think that James’ focus on Qrow at this point is similiar, only not only is this a sign of them knowing each other well, but of Ironwood’s slipping control. He offered Qrow his trust and camaraderie, his last attempt to keep a handle on his humanity (or, his heart). Qrow, in return, withheld vital information, got close with another operative instead, then allegedly killed him and and escaped ‘rightful’ imprisonment.

The Tin Man is offering Qrow his heart, at least proof of it, and the Scarecrow [and co.] steps back to observe the situation, and assesses that no, what you are going to do is wrong, and I cannot agree with it.

Ironwood is not an objective person, as much as he wants to be. He’s angry, desperate, scared, and humiliated. Worst of all, he’s rebuffed, and he’s taking Qrow’s escape personally. First, he understands that Qrow is a threat. He’s Ozpin’s best agent, he has years of field experience, and he knows too much, probably more than James knows. Second, they have history.

My personal interpretation of Ironwood is something this:

He’s a sad, sad, lonely bitch. What Ironwood longs for, just like his source material counterpart, is a heart. He will go to any lengths to achieve this, because he believes that he has self awareness and therefore is able to check and balance himself. He treats his subordinates well, is diplomatic, skilled in a variety of trades, fighting the good fight, and longs for the affirmation that yes, he is a good person, and yes, he’s had a heart all along. He just strays from the path, and loses his way.

This is symbolically represented by his partially mechanic exoskeleton; we have no idea how far the cyborg extremities extend, or how deep, but we do get the visual notion of humanity in conflict, or a man’s soul deconstructed and split between the cold efficiency of machinery and the very real warmth of a human body. Ironwood wants to appear human, and benevolent, and genuine, and in return, loved; he is human, and he could be all of these things. If my reliance on the source material holds any merit (although I highly doubt it), then there is also a potential struggle with sexuality, (Glynda herself even explicitly and exasperatedly references a testosterone battle between Ironwood and Qrow, suggesting a regular overassertation of masculinity) and a further incentive to achieve love and subsequent acceptance.

To clarify, I do believe that there were less-than-subtle allusions to Ironwood and Glynda having a vaguely flirtatious history, taking their shared scenes and background dancing into account, but this, again, does not “debunk” the presence of queerness within a narrative; it could be an assumption of heterosexuality, or performative itself, or just not an exclusive interest. Besides, Ironwitch isn’t what this essay is about. I’m not trying to persuade or dissuade someone of the notion that Jimmy is gay, or straight, or something else, only that the potential ambiguity exists. What I do think is most important is that James doesn’t openly ward people away, not when those people aren’t under his command and are technically outside of his jurisdiction. He’s friendly with Glynda, tries to extend trust to Qrow, is kind to people in the aftermath of battle, and overall clings to diplomacy as his first weapon. He wants to be accepted, to be liked, and to be welcomed. This is not an outrageous want, nor is it uncommon. Unfortunately, Ironwood’s understanding of love and acceptance is entangled within the concept of control, and he associates unquestioned compliance with this Want.

Ironwood’s introduction into the series shows him being openly cordial, and very considerate, especially his interactions with Glynda and Ozpin. He’s a gentleman, he’s apologetic, and, as Glynda assures him, he’s a “good man”. She doesn’t really elaborate on what a “good man” is, exactly, but we might presume that a “good man” is a person with good intentions, who strives to do what’s right, regardless of his options.

Here’s the thing - one similarity between Ironwood and the Tin Man is that they both have the capacity to love, but they fool themselves into thinking that they don’t; before the Wizard gives him a ‘heart’, the Tin Man suggests that he is only kind and considerate to everyone in Oz because he believes he needs to overcompensate for what he lacks, and is therefore doubly aware of how he treats others. However, the Wizard knows no real magic, only tricks and illusions, and what he gives the Tin Man is essentially a placebo that enables the Tin Man to act towards and feel about others the exact same as he always had, only with the validation that what he feels is authentic. Similarly, Ironwood has always had the option to be empathetic and not fucking crazy open to collaboration, which he’s very aware of, until his own paranoia cuts into his rationality and compels him to cut himself off from all allies and alternative perspectives. He then uses his difficult position and responsibilities to justify unjustifiable actions, to rationalize irrational urges, and to gaslight and brainwash his subordinates into compliance.

The Tin Woodman knew very well he had no heart, and therefore he took great care never to be cruel or unkind to anything.

“You people with hearts,” he said, “have something to guide you, and need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful. When Oz gives me a heart of course I needn’t mind so much.”

Qrow sees through this, however, and not only seems incapable of following orders himself, but disrupts the decorum that Ironwood is used to. In return, I think we see a little more of James that he’d like to reveal.

“If you were one of my men, I’d have you shot!”

“If I was one of your men, I’d shoot myself!”

In case this entire ass essay doesn’t make it obvious, I do really ship Ironqrow. I’m open to other pairings, definitely, but this one in particular is just more interesting to me. It feels more revealing, more subtle. I have more questions.

In hindsight, maybe the dialogue example above ^ didn’t age well, considering where they’re at, but I do like how their professional animosity is flavored with a kind of camaraderie, and understanding. This exchange isn’t exactly playful, but they’re taking each other seriously - and, like repressed schoolboys, taking the piss at each other in a childish way, and isn’t that part of the fun of banter, when they’re so focused on each other that they forget to act their age? In a lot of ways, this is a really fun dynamic to watch. They’re opposite-kind-of-people, which I like, at least on a superficial level, and I can easily imagine them tempering each other in ways that would make them ultimately happier people.

They even look well-coordinated, with similar color schemes that lean on the opposite sides of the shared spectrum (white, grays, reds and black); I think the decorative design on Qrow’s new sleeves are supposed to be more ornate simply to communicate that Qrow is committed, and willing to be sentimental, but some viewers have suggested that it resembles the pattern on James’ weapon, Due Process (the revolver is based off of the Tin Man’s pistol, although, curiously, in The Wizard of Oz, the Scarecrow was the only character to carry a pistol, and the commentaries suggest that the 2007 Tin Man miniseries was the “basis of the allusion”. Does that mean anything? I don’t know. Probably not.). Still, it raises the questions: who was in charge of designing the team’s new clothes and gear? How much input did Atlas get, and was this intentional? Personally, I think that the vine-like pattern on Qrow’s sleeves also bear a resemblance to Ozpin’s staff, a subtle reaffirmation and foreshadowing of his allegiance in contrast to Ironwood, but I digress.

They can also deliver that UST kind of banter that takes up their attention, and get up really close to each other, in each other’s faces, and just be pissed, which I think is very sexy of them, mhm. Enemies to Colleagues to Reluctant Friends to Lovers is a trope that I very much appreciate. Gaining some sort of common ground at the Battle of Beacon only to reunite, tired and battered, after the shit has already hit the fan? Slow burn kinda vibes.

That hug between them was something genuinely vulnerable and a sign of Ironwood letting his guard down because he is tired as fuck. It also was uh...kinda fruity.

Ironwood approaches closer, and Qrow scratches the back of his head, a characteristically nervous gesture that he’s made before; it’s a nervous twitch, manufactured nonchalance. He has no idea what Ironwood wants, but he does know that Ironwood wants something. James is the one to initiate the hug, and Qrow startles and even freezes up before relaxing into it. He seems suprised, but gives the bisexual eye roll of grudging fondness. This is out of character for James - Jimmy - but Qrow doesn’t think that Ironwood is a bad person. He leans into the hug, and the camera cuts out before they separate, suggesting that they probably end up standing there for a long ass time. You can also see from the side shots that it’s a close hug; their torsos are pressed up against each other, front to front, and there’s not a lot of wiggle room. James must be really goddamn depressed. It’s a long, manly, intensley heterosexual hug. Like I said, kinda fruity.

Other people have analyzed the hug shot for shot, so I won’t get too into it, but I think that it was intentionally left as a double red herring; some people thought that maybe he bugged Qrow, and after finding out that he didn’t, we were forced to conclude that this is a genuine olive branch. To find out that Ironwood is sincere but was still susceptible to corruption is that second subversion that I didn’t really expect. I hadn’t prepared myself for it, at least, and neither did Qrow. I wouldn’t go as far to say that Ironwood’s descent into fucking craziness paranoia is triggered by Qrow not ‘reciprocating’ or something, but I do think it’s interesting how the volume opens up with a signifigant interaction between Ironwood and Qrow, only for Qrow to spend the rest of the volume homosexually bonding with Clover, while Ironwood basically has no one as emotional support (again, his subordinates do not have the power or the place to be viewed as equals and the veil of formality is one of isolation). Qrow initiates nothing further, and nothing further happens.

Ironwood’s downfall, in a thematic sense, is that what he Needs is a heart, and when he gets that chance to demonstrate tolerance and empathy, James ultimately rejects his Need (a heart) and his arc reverts into one of villainy. To be specific, Ironwood is essentially a fascist dick, and that is not very sexy. (Speaking of dicks, the thought of Ironwood’s dick makes me laugh. I bet in the RWBY universe, people have made memes about that. I do not accept criticism because I am correct. Anyway,).

Dictators are charming, charismatic, and one of the pillars of their method is absorbing potential political opponents into their own administration to reduce the threat of rebellion, to appear openly tolerant to their supporters, and to further consolidate power. A good example of this would be Mean Girls, which runs on a comedic commentary of dictatorships as a political structure of power. I hate to compare James Ironwood to Regina George, but Regina’s posse includes Karen and Gretchen, two of the only girls who might take away from the authority she holds over the rest of their school, both in their wealth and attractiveness, and Cady’s interesting backstory and conventional attractiveness is the main reason Regina draws her into her own sphere - because she detects a potential threat. Much in the same way, while Ironwood likely has good intentions, his efforts to win over team RWBY and co. - including Qrow himself - is a logical way to consolidate resources. His willingness, at first, to cooperate with political opponents (ie Robyn) is because he’s not inherently evil, and he has nothing to lose. It’s when he is openly opposed and diplomatic gestures no longer hold the necessary weight that he snaps.

In one really interesting meta about Ironqrow’s archetypes (that I reread occasionally just because I really love it), @onewomancitadel posits that Ironwood is framed within the archetype of the Knight in Shining Armor, which should inform us of the moral consistency of his character. The meta was written around the beginning of volume 7, I think, and obviously we have a lot more character development and information to go off of now, but I think she makes a really interesting point about the nature of parallels and how that might help drive Ironwood as a character. I love her analysis of the visual of Ironwood stepping out of an airship wreckage, onto the street, the smoke billowing around him to reveal his cyborg prosthetics, and of the intentional framing. Once his uniform is stripped back, we see a man who is literally half-armor, which could be indicative of a lot of things. He’s emotionally guarded, he’s used as a human weapon, and he wants to be a line of defense. In her words, “The symbolism is really obviously put into perspective of his actions in trying to do the right thing: in the flesh (his true physical self) he is literally a knight in shining armour. From the ground up. Even if it's unseen or distorted by his uniform, his nature is still true.”

While Ironwood clearly has gone down a darker path in the most recent volume, I think this analysis holds true in a crucial way. “Ironwood is working with different information, and he’s doing exactly what he knows: stick to his knightly virtues, even disgraced.” Disgraced, indeed. Ironwood is holding onto his knightly values, and doing what he believes is right. If not right, he believes that it is necessary. The problem is that these values are manifested within Atlas’s sociopolitical-military culture in an inherently toxic way - his response is, at this point, neither rational nor empathetic, but it can be explained partially due to his cultural (flawed) understanding of justice, and because of the extenuating circumstances. The harsher the conditions become, the more difficult it is for anyone to project a facade that is not sincere at its core. If James is to uphold his Knightly virtues, he needs to be a protector, a leader, and a servant all at once while operating under limited intel with dwindling trust. All he has left are the few key players still in his grasp, and the control of the people he is responsible for.

To digress: generally, knights take an oath. It could be to a King, or Lord, or some noble, but Knights are supposed to operate on a code of honor, and chivalry, and to uphold these values throughout the land as an extension of whoever they have pledged themselves to. The story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is a really good example of the way that, back in the day, chivalry and honor was supposed to place knights on a moral high ground compared to the common people.

In the middle of a celebration in Camelot, an obligatory tradition that has since lost real value but is rehearsed because Camelot fears that failure to uphold traditions that once had meaning is disrespectful, a Green Knight interrupts the celebrations and offers a strange challenge that boils down to a fight to the death. Gawain volunteers because accepting this challenge is what is expected of him, and Arthur would be humiliated if his knights, supposedly the best in the world, would not rise to the challenge. Gawain - and to a certain extent, the rest of Arthur’s knights - are fickle, in a sense, because their adherence to this code is performative, and it allows them to delude themselves into moral superiority and lie both to the commoners and amongst themselves; their identity as knights is based on a falsehood. Gawain is offered the first blow, and after beheading the Green newcomer, is horrified to see him become reanimated and immune to mortal blows. He invites Gawain to receive his own - likely fatal - blow, and gives him a time in which to meet, before promptly leaving.

Throughout the story, Gawain is tested in a variety of ways - in his final test, he fails, and allows his greed for self preservation and the fear of death to lead him to lie to his hosts and proceed to his meeting with the Green Knight under dishonest pretenses. While he is spared at the last second and becomes a better person (after it is revealed that Morgan le Fay orchestrated the ordeal to spook Queen Guinevere) - and by extent, a truer Knight, by the end of the story, the superficial and hypocritical nature of Arthur’s court is still in question, and still unanswered.

See, the entirety of Gawain’s trials was a test, not necessarily for him, but for Arthur and his court as a whole. Morgan wanted to prove the fickle nature of Arthur’s knights. The Knights of the Round Table were considered the best in the land, and to discredit one was to discredit all. What use is tradition if the meaning is empty, what use is chivalry if it is performed for reward instead of merit, and what use is loyalty if it is blind and unearned? Returning to Oz, the Tin Woodman, or Tin Man, grew to be made of tin because his axe became enchanted by the Wicked Witch of the East to sever his own body parts instead of the lumber he tried to cut down. A nearby tinsmith replaced each amputated limb with one of metal, until his entire body became tin and his meat body had been entirely discarded. Something to note is that Nick Chopper’s, (General Ironwood’s) wounds are technically self-inflicted. Each time he swung his axe, he made the decision to continue, knowing of the end result each time. In losing his bodily functions, the Tin Man believed that he had lost his humanity and ability to love.

The tragedy of his origin story draws a pointed correlation to Ironwood’s current dilemma; his unwillingness to stop, his self-imposed isolation, playing into the hands of the witch, and finally, the decision to let go of his ability to love remain consistent throughout both stories.

Watts even refers to Ironwood as a “Tin Solider”; a reference to the Tin (Woods)Man, no doubt, but could also evoke a soldier clanking around in metal armor. Ironwood is a Knight in Shining Armor, through and through. He wants to save the world, but at the terrible cost of civilian autonomy and possibly life. The problem is that he’s pledged himself to a discriminatory and hypocritical system, and his code is something that can easily be misconstrued by fear ( @disregardcanon ), much as Gawain’s own values. The Tin Man is, after all, still a man, and if we’ve learned anything from real fairytales, it is that men are fallible, whether or not they are made of metal.

Ironwood, Alone

he’s a lonely bitch

I know I f- up, I'm just a loser

Shouldn't be with ya, guess I'm a quitter

While you're out there drinkin', I'm just here thinkin'

'Bout where I should've been

I've been lonely, mm, ah, yeah

— Benee, Supalonely (2019)

You do get the sense that Ironwood is riddled with self-loathing conflicting with pride, with self-doubt clashing with competence, and that he is the kind of person who longs for things without verbalizing. Maybe his dad never paid enough attention to him as a kid. Maybe he suffered some terrible physical and emotional trauma, which might as well be assumed, given the extensive nature of his cybernetic limbs. Maybe (probably) he’d be more well-adjusted and would’ve made better decisions if the people around him trusted him and were a little more open. To be fair, though, he is the one at the wheel, and he is making the calls; no one else is to blame for his mistakes, and to pretend otherwise is to deny him accountability. I think we do enough of that in everyday life, in excusing powerful men of their responsibilities. To his credit, I do think he wants to help people. I think James also wants to project the personality of a leader who is stoic, controlled, and measured. He is charming when he wants to be, sympathetic when it suits him, and influential in just the right areas. He is not a sociopath, but he is a politician, and in a lot of ways, those are the same thing. We see in his brief flashes of temper, often prompted by Qrow, or most notably by Oscar, that this is not a calm, stable person. This is someone is on the verge of exploding, who is so fucking angry that he is not in control that it’s killing him, and so he is going to lash out and kill the things that are not within his grip. If the people beneath him will not reciprocate the heart that he offers, then he has no real use of it. James Ironwood does not begin this story as a bad person. This is a tragedy, in however many parts it takes.

I read, in one very smart and very put-together analysis that I cannot find and properly credit at the moment, that part of Ironwood’s (many) failures can be seen in Winter, and how, like Ozpin, he has appointed a woman as his talented, no-nonsense, second chain in command at his right hand. In this way, Winter is an intentional parallel to Glynda, who is, without question, a bad bitch. In theory, surrounding yourself with strong individuals is a demonstration of self restraint, in implementing your own checks and balances. James wants to project that he is powerful, yes, but he is reasonable.

I take this to mean that, to some degree, even if it’s unintentional or subconscious, Winter serves to boost Ironwood’s ego.

The issue with this is that within the inherently hierarchical structure of the military, Winter cannot question, undermine, or challenge Ironwood in a way that is particularly meaningful and their relationship is one of commander and subordinate before colleagues or equals (link to a fantastic post about Winter’s role as the Good, Conscientious Soldier by @fishyfod). Whereas Glynda is free to argue with, converse, and be as combative as she needs to be with Ozpin (although their power dynamic is arguably one of commander and subordinate albeit informally), Winter cannot temper Ironwood effectively, and through the illusion of equality, Ironwood is further isolated.

His head and arms and legs were jointed upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could not stir at all.

Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow, while Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which hurt his teeth.

“Did you groan?” asked Dorothy.

“Yes,” answered the tin man, “I did. I’ve been groaning for more than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me.”

The Tin Man needs oil to lubricate his joints; without it, he cannot move, and he is rendered helpless and inanimate. When Dorothy and the group find him, he is entirely isolated with no one in sight, and he has been there for such a long time that he has begun to rust. Similarly, Ironwood needs valued voices of dissent to keep him in check. His colleagues were able to serve that purpose in the beginning, and out of them, Qrow is the best example of someone who doesn't take his shit, openly questions him, and looks down on the performative decorum of the military culture that Ironwood is surrounded by. What Ironwood needs is to be flexible and adaptable; his Semblance, Mettle (heh, metal, very nice pun, RoosterTeeth), is a double edged sword in that it gives him supernatural focus and willpower - enough, perhaps, to flay/chop off your own limbs - but it blindsides him, and is only further prolonging his pain.

There is a lot of sympathy to Ironwood’s character, as much as I’ve ragged on him for being an authoritarian, kind of a dick, and bad with kids. There are moments, such as the previously mentioned dinner party, where he shows his colors a bit, and when he assures the students at the Vytal Festival that there’s no shame in leaving before the battle begins, and in giving Yang a prosthetic arm before her father even has to ask. As far as Generals go, it seems that he’s seen soldiers come and go and understands, at least in his best moments, that not everyone is the same, and not everyone has power of unflinching determination to rely on. Ironwood performs his best when he tempers himself because he understands himself, and others. It’s when he fails to self-reflect that his hypocrisy shows through. Glynda points it out, too, as does Qrow; Ironwood advocates for trust but often fails to give it himself, going behind Ozpin’s back, being absolutely shit at field communication, and now the whole fascist, borderline-genocidal keruffle he’s gotten himself into.

I think that Ironwood reaching out to Qrow was his ethical last stand, his last chance and conscious effort to choose the right path. Qrow is unequivocally an equal, not like how Ozpin is the Big Boss, the authority that James becomes disillusioned with and tries to overthrow. He wants someone to trust, desperately so, and Qrow wants that too, but narrative subversion has hands. The Scarecrow and the Tin Man have no brain and heart respectively, and are in need of them. As it turns out, Qrow is actually a pragmatic guy with solid principles angled against authoritarianism, and Ironwood is a dick who would rather enforce martial law than to empathize and tame his military-shaped boner for one second.

I might conclude that someone like Qrow might be best for Ironwood, but that does not mean that someone like Ironwood would be the best for Qrow. Qrow has a brain after all, but Ironwood does not choose his heart when it matters, case in point. Even the intro of the current season features Salem and Ironwood on a chessboard; his white pieces are disappearing, dissolving into dust, as hers transform into Grimm. Ironwood is isolating himself by depleting himself of allies. As this post by @hadesisqueer points out, Ironwood isn’t even positioned as King, the supposed commander, but the Queen, the most versatile player on the board that is so far underused, since he hasn’t moved from his spot. Ironwood’s refusal to unify against Salem is his failure to strategically utilize the best resources that were available to him; soon, the pieces will be swallowed by the dark.

James is guilty of something that a lot of us are guilty of: doing a Bad Thing for what we have convinced ourselves is a Good Reason, when in reality, it is actually a lot of Very Bad Reasons. James Ironwood is a Knight archetype, through and through, and he is charging forward to do the right thing. He is afraid, he is lying to himself, and he will never surrender.

“All the same,” said the Scarecrow, “I shall ask for brains instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a heart if he had one.”

“I shall take the heart,” returned the Tin Woodman; “for brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing in the world.”

Dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know which of her two friends was right, and she decided if she could only get back to Kansas and Aunt Em, it did not matter so much whether the Woodman had no brains and the Scarecrow no heart, or each got what he wanted.

The lesson of James Ironwood is a lesson of failure, and of the way that we succumb to fear, because that is Salem’s agenda, really, in the end: fear. It’s the negative emotions, fear being first and foremost, that draw in and empower the Grimm, and it’s fear and uncertainty that causes chaos. It is when Dorothy’s friends give into their fear that they are truly defeated. FDR’s assertion that “The only thing to fear is fear itself” holds true here; it’s not so much that these characters are afraid of losing their lives, their loved ones, and of the dark, but that they do not have the love or the resources to be brave for themselves or for others.

Qrow as a character is introduced as one who is already defeated, in a sense. Half of his team is gone, dead or estranged, he’s forced into the shadows of espionage to protect a world he knows is darker than it should be, and he’s fighting a losing battle with alcoholism. As charismatic as he’s written, he’s referred to as a “dusty old crow”, a hunter of renowned skill but past the prime of his life.

Dorothy’s three titular companions are defined by what they lack; in the same vein of the Disney I Want song (a main character’s main monologue song in which their wants and desires that motivate them throughout the rest of the film is laid out in song; ie Part of Your World, Reflections, How Far I’ll Go), the Lion, Tin Man, and the Scarecrow want bravery, a heart, and a brain respectively. RWBY relies on flipping the script of its characters based on what the audience might expect from the source material; Ruby is not just a helpless little girl - her introduction is a badass with a scythe. The Scarecrow is a chronic alchoholic. Cinderella is a victim of abuse, and is also a villain who wants to set the world aflame. Subversion, subversion, subversion.

There are obviously parallels between the characters in RWBY and in their own fairytales to keep them in character, and part of the fun is spotting those clues and occasionally connecting the dots to anticipate the direction of the narrative and certain connections between characters and the significance of their arcs. While I’m not aware of Dorothy Gale’s RWBY counterpart, if she has already been established or is yet to be introduced, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that Ruby has adopted a Dorothy-eque persona and can act as a surrogate in a way. She begins as a sweet, naive child eager to join a world of color and excitement, who initially believes that she has “normal knees” and is thrust into a political scheme full of powerful and older players. She even has a small dog as a companion, Toto Zwei, who seems like an odd addition, since he’s usually sidelined and basically forgotten about except in a few spare moments, unless he’s there to draw further comparisons to Dorothy. She may not be from Kansas, but she is first helped by Glynda (the Good Witch), and later expects assistance from Ozpin, Qrow, and the later Ozian counterparts. I find it a peculiar detail that for Ruby to be Little Red Riding Hood alone, she is surrounded specifically by Dorothy’s companions. This, of course, only increases the importance of the relevance of the Oz series in particular and the characters that are borrowed.

In the case of Ozpin’s inner circle, Dorothy’s closest comrades (sans Toto) differ in crucial ways to their source material. (After finishing this essay, I found a much better, condensed explanation by @neopoliitan )

Disillusioned by the Ozpin, the Wizard (who has been projecting an illusion of a failsafe) and overwhelmed by the rise of the Wicked Witch of the West, Lionhart (the Lion), gives into his cowardice and ultimately forgoes the arc and redemption of his character from the source material; as such, he is by all definitions, a failure and a premonition, as Ironwood eventually follows. If RWBY is a dark take on classic fairytales, then it is only fitting that these characters are charred husks of their fairytale selves - these are people, and some people are selfish, scared, and cowardly, and they do not overcome these traits.

This is all opinion based, pure speculation. I have no idea what will happen in the next episode, and whatever goes down will be...shit will hit the fan. I’m under no delusions that Ironqrow is going to be canon in a healthy, tender, endgame sense. They’re both kind of losing their minds, and Ironwood is shitting absolute bricks. No, they’re going to try to kill each other, and I personally cannot wait for Qrow to cleave this man in two. (Not sexually, just, literally. Like, with a scythe.)

On that note, I think that the RWBY writers are good at callbacks, at drawing attention to their own connections, and if Ironwood and Qrow’s inevitable confrontation is scheduled, then it will include visual callbacks to Qrow saving James at Beacon, maybe shot for shot. Their visuals have only gotten better as time goes on, and I imagine Ironwood’s eyes widening as Qrow leaps through the air, scythe drawn, in recal of a moment so long ago when they weren’t on the same page, but they were at least on the same side. When Qrow brings the blade down, there will be no enemy behind him. Only Jimmy James. The difference between the two of them will be that Qrow isn’t fighting out of fear, but out of love, for what happened to Clover, and to what could happen to his girls.

Qrow’s reliance on alcohol, as well as his (mostly) feigned nonchalance is meant to fit with the motif that the Scarecrow has no brain, and, had he a mind to desire anything, would desire it most of all. His role is, also, notably, gathering intelligence for Ozpin (his character is also based on Munnin from Norse mythology). There is so much about Qrow that is an act and so much that is not, and I think that this act is born both from this motif and from his own cynicism, and the alcohol contributes to this act. However, he eventually gets sober after Ruby expresses legitimate frustration, and he understands that he’s putting their lives at risk. While one could say that he gave up drinking for the kids, I would argue that the kids - Ruby in particular - made him want to give up drinking for himself, to better himself.

While Lionhart and Ironwood betray the people depending on them, Qrow’s love for his nieces (and for the kids) allows him to deviate from this pattern. The answer to fear is perhaps not merely bravery - Qrow’s triumph is love.

Ironwood knows triumph in the context of a military state, but he’s backed himself into a corner. Soon he will find himself alone and friendless. Hopefully, his last stand will not be in vain.

#ironqrow #james ironwood #qrow branwen #rwby #rwby8 spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby meta #ok this is all just based on my opinion ok #like i ship ironqrow but ironwood is a dicktator if u know what i mean #he is probably gonna die but anyway #ironqrow meta #winter schnee #snowbird #also includes links and credit to other posts and metas #I just had to get this off of my chest ok

38 notes · View notes

possiblyimbiassed · 4 years

Text

“E” as in Eurus, Enola and Estate

In June this year the Conan Doyle Estate Ltd filed a lawsuit against an impending Holmes adaptation movie on Netflix (article from RadioTimes here: X).

Sherlock, Mycroft and Enola, starring Henry Cavill, Sam Claflin and Millie Bobby Brown.

This post about it by @tendergingergirl (X) seems to have gone largely unnoticed, but I think it deserves far more attention. In fact, it got me thinking “What’s all this actually about?” and looking a few things up.

My curiosity about the doings of this Estate began in December last year, before the release of BBC Dracula in January, when an interesting discussion initiated after an excellent meta by @yeah-oh-shit (X), who had made some investigations into previous copyright and public domain issues and lawsuits, which I had never known about before.

And now it turns out that the Conan Doyle Estate Ltd (from here on I’ll call them ‘ACD Estate’) is suing the film makers, along with Nancy Springer, author of a book series based on characters from the Holmes universe called The Enola Holmes Mysteries (2006-2010), for copyright infringement.

But I thought most of ACD’s Sherlock Holmes stories are now in public domain, including the Illustrious Client, the Sussex Vampire and the Three Garridebs, whose copyright under US law expired last year (2019)? Well, yes, but that’s still not all of them, and according to ACD Estate “for those of the stories whose copyright terms have ended, this action is brought within the three-year limitations period for infringement.”

More under the cut.

So, the ACD Estate’s copyright, they claim, still includes the following ten stories collected in The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes:

The Creeping Man (1923)

The Illustrious Client (1924)

The Three Garridebs (1924)

The Sussex Vampire (1924)

The Retired Colourman (1926)

The Lion’s Mane (1926)

The Three Gables (1926)

The Blanched Soldier (1926)

Shoscombe Old Place (1927)

The Veiled Lodger (1927)

The whole lawsuit can be downloaded as a PDF file from this news article (X), and it’s quite an interesting read.

Claims about Sherlock Holmes’ emotions

So, since this is not the first lawsuit from the ACD Estate about adaptations, what’s their beef with the film makers this time? As far as I can see from their claims, this is about Sherlock Holmes’ emotions.

This is how the ACD Estate reads Holmes’ character development in the lawsuit: “Conan Doyle made the surprising artistic decision to have his most famous character—known around the world as a brain without a heart—develop into a character with a heart. Holmes became warmer. He became capable of friendship. He could express emotion. He began to respect women. His relationship to Watson changed from that of a master and assistant to one of genuine friendship. Watson became more than just a tool for Holmes to use. He became a partner.”

They even quote the famous passage in The Three Garridebs (3GAR, 1924) where Watson says: “It was worth a wound—it was worth many wounds—to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask.”

But all this progress, they claim, specifically happened within these ten still (allegedly) copyrighted stories, which Conan Doyle wrote after World War One, where he had the traumatic experience of losing both his son and his brother.

They claim that Holmes’ emotional development is still under their copyright (which I believe in practise means their power to decide whether to allow a film adaptation or not) and apart from the emotions issue, they also provide the following other examples of developments that are (supposedly) unique to these ten still copyrighted stories:

Holmes employs a knowledge of medicine in Watson’s absence

Holmes and Watson use modern technologies in detective work for the first time

Watson marries a second time during his association with Holmes (BLAN)

Holmes changes into someone who has great interest in dogs

Sherlock’s “secret sister”

The Enola Holmes Mysteries got me interested, and now I’ve read the two first of six instalments in total. The series is about Sherlock’s and Mycroft’s younger sister Enola, a clever teenager whom the brothers – in particular Mycroft - want to send away to a boarding school after their mother has disappeared and abandoned her. But Enola hates the idea of being confined to a place where she will be forced to wear a corset and restricted to a certain (‘female’) behaviour at all times. She escapes to London, where she starts a secret private detective career specialising in investigations of missing persons. Enola must keep ahead of her brothers who are determined to capture and force her to conform to Victorian society’s expectations for young women. She skilfully uses different disguises, just like Sherlock, and she meets John Watson pretending to be someone else. With her cleverness she manages to outwit even Sherlock. She is good at drawing and uses her sketches in her work. She manages to communicate with her mother (and eventually also with Sherlock) by using ciphers.

All of this does seem to have certain similarities with how Eurus Holmes is described in S4, doesn’t it?

Eurus is, like Enola, the secret Holmes sister whom we never have heard of before.

In TFP Mycroft claims Eurus’ intellect was superior to both Sherlock’s and his own; she was “incandescent”.

We see little Eurus draw sketches of her family members (not very pleasant sketches when it comes to Sherlock, though).

Mycroft made sure Eurus was sent away to an isolated prison/institution (Sherrinford) at an early age.

Their parents seemed absent and not particularly interested in the whereabouts of their own daughter (they didn’t even know she was alive); they let Mycroft and ‘Uncle Rudy’ take care of things, so one could easily suspect she was abandoned.

Eurus seems to have escaped to London at her own leisure, while Mycroft thought she was incarcerated.

Eurus appears in London under three different disguises: “E” (flirting and texting with John),

“Faith” (walking the streets of London with Sherlock)

and John’s new therapist.

Eurus makes riddles with codes for Sherlock to decipher (“The cipher was the song”).

So, one might wonder if the Eurus plot is – at least to some degree – inspired by Enola Holmes? On the other hand, while Eurus appears cold and calculating, Enola is compassionate and sensitive and makes mistakes because of emotional bias. Enola seems more similar to Eurus’ disguised personas than to the supposedly ‘real’ Eurus - the one who burned the family estate down and killed Victor Trevor.

I still believe that Eurus only exists inside Sherlock’s head in BBC Sherlock, being a part of himself, but that’s for another discussion.

As for the Holmes siblings, it’s also interesting that on the ACD Estate’s website, where they have a collection of ’facts’ about ACD’s characters, they seem to have included BBC Sherlock’s Eurus as a valid sibling of Sherlock and Mycroft (scroll down to “Holmes facts” on this page: X), even though this character is nowhere to be found in canon. Please correct me if I’m wrong about this, but the only reference I can find to ”the East Wind” in ACD’s stories is in His Last Bow (LAST, 1917), where Holmes says that ”There’s an east wind coming, Watson”, and goes on to talk about a cold, bitter wind that is threatening England; most probably a reference to WWI, which was raging at the time of publication. No one with the name Eurus is ever mentioned, though. If Eurus had already been part of canon, why would Mofftiss have claimed her to be the big ”rug-pull” in TFP?

I haven’t read the final part in the Enola Holmes series (X) yet, where allegedly Enola reconciles with her brothers (Sherlock in particular) and they end up respecting her independence and skills. But according to several reviews Sherlock softens up a bit in the end. In the parts I have read, the two adult brothers appear rather conservative, patronising and sexist towards their younger sister – indeed more condescending than I think Holmes view of women actually is described in ACD’s original stories (allegedly – we never see him treat women badly in practice, do we?). At any rate, I haven’t this far been able to find a single specific plot element from the ten (supposedly) still copyrighted stories in Springer’s work.

In their lawsuit, the ACD Estate claims that “The Springer novels make extensive infringing use of Conan Doyle’s transformation of Holmes from cold and critical to warm, respectful, and kind in his relationships. Springer places Enola Holmes at the center of the novels and has Holmes initially treat her coolly, then change to respond to her with warmth and kindness.”

So what they’re doing here is the same thing they’ve done before (and lost): they’re claiming they still own some intrinsic characteristics of Sherlock Holmes, even though most of the stories are already in public domain.

Other lawsuits

A similar lawsuit towards Miramax (X) was made in 2015 for the film Mr Holmes, which had Ian McKellen as protagonist. But it ended in settlement before the defendants had responded to the accusations, which were similar to those regarding Enola Holmes about Holmes’ emotional life, but also had to do with the details of Holmes’ life as a retired man.

So, this is not the first time the copyright owners are interfering with content in Holmes adaptations. To complicate things further there seems to be two different estates claiming copyright for Doyle’s work. In 2010 there was some reporting that another estate had threatened Guy Richie’s Sherlock Holmes movies with disapproval after Robert Downey Junior had discussed Holmes possibly being gay on a TV show (X). According to Digital Spy, Andrea Plunket, who then represented the ‘Arthur Conan Doyle Literary Estate’, said: "I hope this is just an example of Mr Downey's black sense of humour. It would be drastic, but I would withdraw permission for more films to be made if they feel that is a theme they wish to bring out in the future. I am not hostile to homosexuals, but I am to anyone who is not true to the spirit of the books."

It’s very unclear which legal rights Andrea Plunket’s family (Andrea apparently died in 2016) actually has to represent ACD’s work, though. Andrea had been married to one of the copyright owners, and her family’s money had paid for the purchase of those rights, but after her divorce Andrea seems to have lost her part in the copyright, according to @mallamun on tumblr: (X). There’s also a lot of interesting things to read about these copyright issues in an article by Mattias Bodström from 2015: (X). However, there’s still a website from ‘Arthur Conan Doyle Literary Estate’ claiming ownership of the stories: X, and they have published a detailed account of their version of the matter (X).

The current case

I have no idea what the court will think about these new accusations against Netflix et al, but to me, if this isn’t farfetched, I don’t know what is. I think a good case could be made for most of these ‘unique’ elements listed above being expressed already before the Case Book. For example, in His Last Bow (LAST, 1917) they use a car, in The Dying Detective (DYIN, 1913) Holmes manages to fool Dr Watson that he’s very sick. When Watson declares his intent to marry for the first time already in The Sign of Four (SIGN, 1890), Holmes resorts to drugs. The dogs are all over the place since day one, and Holmes seems to appreciate them very much, not least Toby in SIGN.

And don’t get me started on the contradictions in Watson’s various discussions of whether Holmes has a heart. Holmes’ actions of helping people often contradicts the image of a cold, emotionless person. The Yellow Face (YELL, 1893) ends with Holmes being deeply repentant for being over-confident in his suspicion of a woman for adultery or maybe worse offences, when she was actually only trying to protect her little daughter from society’s racism.

In the Devil’s Foot (DEVI, 1910) there’s the following conversation (my bolding): “Upon my word, Watson!” said Holmes at last with an unsteady voice, “I owe you both my thanks and an apology. It was an unjustifiable experiment even for one’s self, and doubly so for a friend. I am really very sorry.” “You know,” I answered with some emotion, for I had never seen so much of Holmes’s heart before, “that it is my greatest joy and privilege to help you.”

Why on earth would it be a “surprising artistic decision” from ACD to develop Holmes into a little more caring and openly compassionate person as he grew older? Isn’t that the very classical character development of any literary hero’s journey and also a logical personal development for many people in the real world? It’s called ‘learning’ and ‘maturing’, as far as I know. To claim this is infringement of some unique idea is frankly ridiculous.

In short: They make a very literal, textual interpretation of the Holmes character, cherry-picking the parts that suit their interests, they claim there’s a clear story arc with very separate characteristics before and after WWI, and that they own the end of it. Thus, no adaptation with a progressive story arc regarding Holmes’ character would be permitted without their consent. Since apparently BBC Sherlock have ACD’s Estate’s license for their own franchise, this just makes me wonder how much trouble Mofftiss et al had with including things like Sherlock’s and John’s hug in TLD, or his emotional breakdown with the coffin after Eurus’ experiments on him in TFP.

Possible satirical meaning and small hints

Allow me to speculate a bit about the possible implications of BBC Sherlock in relation to the Estate. In a recent excellent meta by @raggedyblue, the ACD Estate as ‘Doyle’s bank’ is discussed, regarding the significance of the banker Sebastian Wilkes in The Blind Banker (X). Many interesting ideas are presented in this meta, I really recommend a read. This topic also initiated an interesting discussion about Doyle himself mirroring John in this post by @devoursjohnlock (X).

In an addition to that meta @shylockgnomes brings up John’s blog post about Tilly Briggs as another possible reference to the Estate (X). I totally agree with this; some time around the release of BBC Dracula this year, and our discussions about legal issues connected to both shows, I stumbled upon this particular ‘aborted’ blog post and came to realise its possible significance. It gave me the idea to change the title of my own blog to “Tilly Briggs Ship with Johnlock on it”, since I suspect that the blog post might be a clue about legal obstacles to a certain relationship. And that title is staying, at least until we know the true story (if ever).

Canon contains some info about Matilda Briggs is in The Sussex Vampire, one of the late ACD stories that should be in public domain by now, since the copyright supposedly expired in December 2019. But, as shown above, the Estate now claims there’s a three-year lapse when they can still sue for infringement. Here’s the quote from SUSS (my bolding): “Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson,” said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. “It was a ship which is associated with the giant rat of Sumatra, a story for which the world is not yet prepared.” Sumatra, by the way, was Sherlock’s preferred destination in the TST tale of the merchant who met Death in Samarra. In Sherlock’s version, according to Mycroft, the merchant survived and became a pirate... ;-)

John’s aborted blog post (X) is titled “Tilly Briggs Cruise of Terror”, which just might be yet another little jibe at the Estate. John says that “I had to take this post down for a while as the ship's owners are launching an appeal”. According to Jacob Sowersby (a Sherlock fan on the blog) and Mike Stamford, this was “mind-blowing stuff”:

So I can’t help thinking this sounds like a hint to us about the Estate and a certain ‘ship’ which is still partly in their (legal) power and control. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if the whole show - on the meta level - is partly meant as a satirical commentary on how Holmes’ and Watson’s characters, and therefore also their relationship, have been treated the last 100+ years by their ‘owners’. A treatment where I believe the hetero norm has always ruled, and where Andrea Plunket’s quote above indicates that homophobia regarding Holmes and Watson is still tied to legal obstacles.

Charles Augustus Magnussen also talks about ownership at the beginning of HLV (thanks for the quotes, Ariane DeVere): “Of course it isn’t blackmail. This is... ownership”. And later in the episode: “It’s all about knowledge. Everything is. Knowing is owning”. In fact, quite a bit of emphasis in HLV is put on Magnussen’s ‘ownership’ of characters people: “I’m a businessman, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them!” Apparently - as this new lawsuit shows - it’s even possible to make money out of Holmes’ emotions.

@catwillowtree also pointed out, in another additional thread to @raggedyblue’s meta, that Eurus’ burning down Musgrave Hall – the family estate - in TFP also seems like a reference to the ACD Estate. I would add to this, saying that the bomb that didn’t go off in TEH and the “patience grenade” that did go off in TFP might have to do with the same issue. What would happen if the ‘bomb’ of Johnlock would go off before the relevant stories are legally in public domain? Most probably another lawsuit from the Estate, which might become very expensive.

Come to think of it, in TGG Greg Lestrade mentions an estate agent, when Sherlock receives a text message and a phone call on the pink phone from Moriarty: “What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent’s photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!” Well, if the Estate agent is somehow connected to the five pips, that fandom theory of the pips representing five series in the show comes to mind... For every pip in TGG there’s a victim covered in explosives; a huge bomb threatening to go off. (The third bomb did go off in TGG, but in S3 Sherlock found the ‘off-switch’ in time). If the fifth bomb is to explode in S5, I bet it won’t be until the relevant stories are safely in public domain. 2023?

More wild speculation while I’m at it: Maybe Sherlock and Ajay’s smashing of Thatcher busts in TST also ties in metaphorically to the same topic? The Thatcher era was not easy for LGBTQ people. There are several owners in TST whose Thatcher busts need to be smashed in order for Ajay’s lost memory stick to be recovered. AGRA is referred to as Ajay’s and Mary’s “family”. The memory stick contains personal information, ‘who you really are’. Could be read as if the info of who Sherlock Holmes really is can only be released once certain obstacles are overcome...

In another interesting meta from last year by @yeah-oh-shit (X), they mention the secret underground station at Sumatra road in TEH, where Howard Shilcott tells Sherlock and John that “They built the platforms, even the staircases, but it all got tied up in legal disputes, so they never built the station on the surface.” So maybe S5 is basically already written? It would make sense to me if the long hiatus we’re facing right now has a far more logical reason than the excuses Mofftiss have presented in interviews - the risk of legal disputes with the copyright owners.

Tagging some more people who might be interested: @gosherlocked @ebaeschnbliah @sarahthecoat @sagestreet @thepersianslipper

ETA: I have corrected some details about the copyright owners in this post; thanks @devoursjohnlock for pointing them out!

#The Conan Doyle Estate

129 notes · View notes

alwaysthinkingoutloud · 3 years

Text

Hannibal Episode-by-Episode Meta/Analysis: Episode 2, Season 1 (Amuse-Bouche)

Episode starts with Will dreaming about practice-shooting in a range, a place where he is actually allowed to shoot guilt-free. Where shooting is justified, just like the field. He seems to miss his shots though, resulting in shooting again and again. Just like he shot Garret Jacob Hobbs again and again, but was it because he missed his shot then too? It looks like he is trying to convince himself so, since the shooting target turns into Hobbs in the dream. And if he truly felt bad about shooting Hobbs and regrets doing so, why keep shooting him repeatedly even after hitting him in the dream too? Since he goes to the shooting range after the dream for real too, all of this has little to do with his being traumatized and a lot to do with him missing that feeling.

When in the Hobbs’ cabin, the first thing that comes out of Will’s mouth after seeing tens of antlers all over the room is a comment about how well this would fit in Evil Minds Research Museum. Despite being sarcastic, seeing a crime scene where teenage girls have been mounted on antlers and swiftly thinking that kind of thing to say may suggest that he deep down considers it as a precious and beautiful piece of art that belongs in a museum. Short after, we hear about the possibility that Abigail might be a suspect. For the first time, Will rules out that possibility and defends her blindly.

As soon as Will enters the classroom to give a lecture, the students start applauding. First, he says “thank you” and right after that, “stop that”. He does not know how to react but I do not think that’s because he does not know how he feels about it. It is normal to be applauded for saving someone’s life. So why to accept the compliment and then feel not comfortable about it? Maybe it is because, his initial thought was that the applause was not for saving a life but for taking one. And he gave in quickly and said thank you. Then he noticed this was not appropriate at all so he decided to tell them to stop.

When Alana and Jack comes to talk to Will, he states that he found the students’ applause for his ‘success’ inappropriate. Although he saved the life of Hobbs girl and many that could follow, he does not deem killing someone a success under any circumstances. Later in the conversation, we also learn that Will used to work homicide and the reason why he no longer does is that he was never comfortable pulling the trigger. No law enforcement agent is ever comfortable with it though, killing is killing. But sometimes the end justifies the means. So maybe he could never pull the trigger because he knew that if he did, it would lead him in a path that he could not come back from for many different reasons other than a normal person would have. But that is in the past now, he did pull the trigger. So for stabilizing this change, he is unknowingly pushed into the den of the lion: Hannibal’s couch.

The first thing Hannibal does is to rule out the formalities and responsibilities that having Will officially as a patient would bring along. He rubber stamps Will to keep his days full of crime scenes, ensuring the trigger for his instability as well as his requirement to come and see Hannibal. He wants to play Will’s friend more than he wants to play his therapist. So he does that by alienating Jack and making use of their now common denominator, Abigail. He uses the phrase “surrogate daughter”, reinstating the thought of Will’s responsibility of Abigail. A responsibility that may weigh as heavy as a father’s. By telling Will how he feels obligated against the girl, Hannibal hopes his declared feelings about Abigail to awaken the ones in Will. While doing that, Hannibal is not exactly trying to paint a spotless, pretty picture. He is combining what he wants Will to think and what Will wants to hear. While talking about feeling responsible for the girl, Will suddenly brings out the fact that Jack has doubts about the girl’s involvement in her dad’s crimes. Hannibal not wanting Will to embrace Abigail only under the assumption of her total innocence, he is telling Will that he does feel responsible for Abigail and that it is also possible that she took part in her dad’s murders, implying he can be protective of Abigail and not be so sure about her involvement in the crimes at the same time. Almost to suggest that regardless of Abigail’s innocence or otherwise, she deserves to be protected. To be cared for. To be loved. If Will can protect and embrace a killer now, why could not he do the same again for somebody else?

“The mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself, not the worst of someone else.”

I listened to, read and repeated this quote of Hannibal tens of times until it lost all its meaning. What I think he is saying is that empathizing is about the empathetic as much as it is about the person being empathized. That, Will’s mind’s reflections of someone else’s cannot be truly detached from his own. That, Will’s own not-that-bad mind’s mental limits make it not possible to comprehend the worst of someone else to his limits. Because his identity is restrictive about what it is not familiar or comfortable with. But whatever he empathizes, it will be the best version there is for him. Because that will be within his mind’s limits and not restricted by anyone else’s.

Hannibal, in a conversation, suggests that Hobbs is Will’s victim. The use of the word ‘victim’ here is so deliberate since it brings a sense of guilt together, a sense of wrongdoing, an ill-intent. If there is a victim, there is a question of the justness of the act. But to kill a serial killer attempting to murder someone is not that kind of an act. There is no need of questioning the motive because it is so out there and it is okay. But Hannibal needs Will to question. He wants Will to think there may be an another reason or angle to what happened. Then he drops the bomb by asking Will if putting himself in the killers’ shoes and imagining their thrill is now harder, since he is now a way too familiar to the feeling and has very little space to estrange himself from it?

During the dinner of Jack and Hannibal, we learn that Jack is doubting the purity of Will’s mind. Hannibal, in return, calls the way Jack treats Will “delicate” while he is well-aware that it is not, encouraging it with an understatement. He does that while asking Jack if his doubts are about Will’s trustworthiness or the risk of Will breaking in the field, also insinuating that he finds Jack’s doubts unnecessary, but any answer Jack may give to that would promote either distrust against Will or would give Jack the idea that there is still more room to push Will.

Alana and Will meet each other in the hospital room of Abigail. Will suggests that Alana may be reading to a killer, while he is sleeping on the couch and practically in the same position as her. So if he is accepting the possibility but still is here, he may be submitting to that possibility too. Will is obviously trying to flirt with Alana and she kind of reciprocates it with trying to comfort him. She tells him that Abigail is a success for him. He replies saying that she does not look like a success. That, he does not feel sorry but good. He does not feel good because he saved her life, if that was the case he would call it a success. So there must be another reason to why he feels good. And the torment he goes through is of feeling good, not of feeling sorry. Good about a surrogate daughter who he orphaned in the first place and maybe good about killing her father too.

In the last scene of the episode, we see Hannibal playing his card open for the first time. He starts off by justifying feeling good about killing if the person being killed is bad enough. Will differentiating between good and just, Hannibal draws Will’s attention to that his coming to therapy is an attempt to convince himself that he feels good about only saving Abigail and not killing her father as well. Will objects saying if this was true, he would feel the same way about shooting Stammets too. Hannibal reminds him that he did not kill Stammets, so he cannot compare. Then, Will spills out that he is not even sure if he was not trying to shoot Stammets to kill. Hannibal pealing his person mask a little off, tells Will even if he wanted to kill Stammets, that would be understandable since he would do it anticipating the killer’s capabilities, boldly calling it “beautiful” even. Hearing his darkest fantasies he did not even admit to himself spoken out loud, almost with vanity, Will freaks out a little and changes the topic. However, Hannibal does not let him out that easy, not when he got Will right where he wanted him. He speaks clearly now, asks him if the reason he has been feeling down is that he killed a man, or that he killed a man and liked it. Finally, Will breaks and admits to feeling good about killing Garret Jacob Hobbs. Hannibal, then, swifts in with the simplest yet greatest justification of killing: that God does it all the time. That it is not about feeling good but about feeling powerful.

It is thought-provoking to consider how early in the series Hannibal actually reveals his tainted mind to Will, but it takes him a whole season and a too high of a number of obvious moves to see Hannibal’s real face that, it makes one wonder if he actually did see Hannibal’s face around this time, but his subconscious longing to be understood chose to sweep it all under the rug.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #will #will graham #hannibal and will #hannigram #brian fuller #nbc hannibal #hannibal meta #hannibal analysis #will and hannibal #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #murder husbands #abigail hobbs #garret jacob hobbs #hannibal loves will #will loves hannibal #amuse-bouche

21 notes · View notes

madhare0512 · 3 years

Text

welcome back to midnight/2 am rambling with MadHare. On today's agenda, Mad and Mare's relationship.

so what is perfectly clear to me, especially in the timeline/universe that myself and Codebreaker have established, is Mad and Mare are Soulmates.

the diety of the universe (which ever diety you do (or don't) believe in) created the pair for and with each other. the idea of two people fighting to get back and keep each other really attracted me and I was ecstatic when @codebreaker-alex-manes agreed.

Mare is a siren, has been in every timeline I write for and will continue to be as I continue to write for him. Mad is a human (with some exceptions in some AUs to come) and will continue to be as I continue to write. Mare is going to live forever, he's immortal and cannot be killed (only maimed). he accepted that he would be mourning Mad for many, many years. sirens are like wolves, they love once and they love fiercely. Mare knew this when he fell in love with Mad and he did it anyway *because* he loved Mad.

Someone once asked me if Mare could make Mad into a siren. the answer is no, Mare cannot change Mad into a siren. however similar to folklore, if Mad where to die in a violent fashion and his death was in a siren's waters, then he would become a siren. I was also asked if Mare would let that happen. the answer again, is no.

those who know the backstory of my version of Mad will know that Mad's family was terrible to him. they treated him awful. if Mad was a siren, then he would be safe, happy, and powerful enough to protect himself (a quote from the lovely asker). however, this is also not knowing/understanding two things about the relationship.

firstly: Mare doesn't want Mad to die

Mad means the world to Mare, Mad *is* the entire world to Mare. he's spent years and years falling in love woth and losing Mad to a variety of ways, he doesn't want to watch Mad die anymore and definitely not right in front of him or by his hand.

secondly: second, Mad doesn't want to be a siren

Mad is, above all, a scientist born with a natural curiosity and an above average IQ and he knows that Mare is and was hunted for being a siren. he doesn't want that for himself but he will fight to protect Mare with his last breath.

now, this being said, Mad *is* effectively immortal. he is still very human.

Marvin Septic is a sorcerer who studied under Hecate herself and then more by himself. he is strong and very capable and more than willing to tie the very human Mad's life to the immortal Mare's life.

in most timelines, Mare and Mad meet. there are however, a few they don't meet in. in those timelines Mare only dresses up for two reasons. Mad's wedding or Mad's funeral. in only one timeline was Mare able to find Mad after he missed him.

Mare always knows when Mad is coming because Mad always finds Mare's bangles. all sirens are born with them and if you possess the sirens bangles, you can possess the siren. Mare trusts Mad with them, always and forever, because Mad has proven in every timeline that he'd never use them like that. Mad has given his *life* to protect Mare's freedom. he would do it a hundred times over.

Mad has only ever not found the bangles *once* and he was grateful he never did.

Mad and Mare trust each other with everything. Mad knows everything Mare went through and vise versa, they have no secrets, only things they haven't told each other yet. something Mare tells Mad is, "you have all my yesterdays and all my tomorrows, my present is connected to yours and my heart is in your hands. I trust you to keep it all safe."

(Mad couldn't have fallen any harder and yet he did in that moment.)

Mad's nicknames for Mare are violet, fangs, and Oceanus.

Mare's nicknames for Mad are Sailor, melody, and treasure.

Mare first met Mad at one of the lowest points of his life. He wasn't doing great, his parents had recently passed away and his brother was in the seas for the funeral and subsequent estate things. Mad came along, rushing through like a hurricane, and Mare felt his heart whisper, "there you are. I was looking for you."

Mare was hesitant to let himself be around Mad at first because he wasn't sure the kind of person Mad was, but then he saw Mad protecting a fae child and he knew that this was the man he wanted to share his heart with.

Mare is a flirt, but he only gives his heart to Mad. Mad only gives his heart to Mare in return.

Mare can and will literally eat people who have wronged Mad. he's a siren, he literally has to eat people to live. but he typically limits himself to murderers, abusers, and others of that fashion.

nights that Mare performs in the club are the literally best for both the club and for Mad. why? because Mad really likes Mare's siren form. you know the idea that a siren can cast a spell on their victims? well in this case it's actually kind of true.

Mad is absolutely stunned by Mare's siren form. he's always speechless the first time he sees it. Mare knows this and uses it to his advantage.

that's all for now. thank you! series is below!

#youtube #personal #matpat #madpat #youtube egos #game theory #mad rambles #trigger warning #tw #death/suicide #abuse

9 notes · View notes

nelllraiser · 3 years

Text

the littlest pet swap | darwin & nell

TIMING: during the waking world potw (aka wonky magic times). LOCATION: the street outside darwin’s apartment + darwin’s apartment. PARTIES: @asranism & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: a summoning gone wrong provides ample confusion for both darwin and nell, but mostly a lot of yelling in the street.

The sun had long slipped below the horizon as Nell opened the gate to one of the swankiest dog parks in town, though her slight form wasn’t accompanied by a canine of any sort. In fact, she looked entirely alone, a singled out figure in the low light of the street lamps while she opened the chain link gate of the park, satisfied with the emptiness of the enclosure. On nights like tonight she liked to make her way here, far after any other owners and dogs had abandoned the park so that her own ‘dogs’ could have as much fun as they liked without her needing to fear of the ruckus they might make should anyone catch sight of three hellhounds playing a game of fire tag, maws alight with flame as they chased after one another and playfully singed at each others fur. Raising her thumb to her teeth, she bit it until it bled, reopening a scab on it that had yet to heal from the last summoning of the hellhounds she’d performed. In a quick motion, she swiped the offering over the tattooed summoning sigil on her arm, a piece of magic she’d designed as a specific shortcut that would bring forth the demons she’d befriended some years ago. Except as the magic swelled and then ebbed, it wasn’t three hellhounds that stood before her but...something much smaller than she’d been expecting and- was it wearing a tuxedo? “Ah- hello,” Nell spoke to the mysterious demon with bewilderment, wondering where the hell her dogs were. “You’re not who I was expecting.” Had the unpredictability of her magic bled into this as well?

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Nell, a hellhound materialized in the middle of a strange and unfamiliar kitchen, and the young demon known to the witch as ‘Scrappy’ instantly began to growl at anything that dared to move within his vicinity. And perhaps the most concerning thing within his vicinity was a man foreign to him. Instinct was quick to take hold as his hackles rose, and it only took a small second before he was advancing on the man, a loud and threatening bark showing razor-sharp teeth as he wordlessly demanded to know what it was the interloper had done with his mistress.

Afternoon naps have never been a thing for Darwin Asrani, formerly the heir to the Asrani family business of subjugating demons for a quick buck, but things change, they always do, with his own escape and self-imposed exile from Asrani family dinners a testament of how the outgoing but sarcastic charmer isn't afraid to welcome change. Oh, how that statement is going to bite him in the ass in a few seconds. That, and something else. While Darwin was fast asleep, knocked out but comfortably so, deep in a dream of a better present where he wasn't running around, going after his family's mistakes, correcting them like he was responsible for their terrible choices in life, which he clearly wasn't, his tiny demon butler Bertrand was in the kitchen preparing its master his evening alcohol. Bertrand is of course Darwin's most loyal summon, a strange little demon who had a thing for wearing butler clothes, which in this context is a pretty charming tuxedo, and for some strange reason taking care of its summoner like the “Alfred” to Darwin's less gloomy and more fabulous Batman. Unfortunately for the two of them, that evening alcohol would not come to be, as something else stirred nearby, and soon Bertrand disappeared from where he stood, summoned elsewhere, while in his place a more terrifying and less clothed demonic entity stood growling at everything and anything.

"Bertrand, where the hell is my morning cock..." Darwin groggily walked into the kitchen, having finally awoken, in a sour mood after his fantasy was revealed to be nothing more than just that, a fantasy, not the actual reality of his own making. If he didn't have his sense of morality, the disgusting piece of him he liked to hide behind drapings of sarcasm and veils of flirting, he would have remained with his family, making a quick buck at the expense of other sentient creatures. It would have been an easy life, yet even as he made his way to where Bertrand should have been, he could not fully accept that option. Demons are scary, sure, and they are capable of damning things. But demons still have their own will. For another to bend that will to their own desires... Darwin could never accept that. Although, he would have considered the option as he gulped at the sight of not Bertrand in his kitchen, no, but a hellhound that looked like it didn't want to be there. At least they had something in common. "...tail?"

Everything happened so fast. Before Darwin could summon his own senses to return to him, his mind to conjure a plan or strategy of defensive measures, the hostile creature was upon him, chasing him out of his own apartment and into the cold dark night. Darwin could do nothing else but run, screaming, as the thought of his bits and pieces getting bitten to shreds was not something he wanted to come to pass. Fortunately for him, as the chase continued into the nearby dog park, he found Bertrand standing with lovesick eyes directed towards another, a woman with textbook attractiveness. Another spellcaster? "Bertrand! Quickly, rein in this monstrosity after me! I'm not wearing anything under my robe!"

“Hello?” Nell repeated to the newly appeared demon as it simply stood there, apparently transfixed on the young woman before him. Maybe he was in shock? She’d witnessed a few demons who experienced cases of confusion after being unexpectedly Summoned. After all, it was certainly jarring to be one place one moment and somewhere entirely else in the next. “Sorry- I didn’t actually mean to summon you here. Were you doing something important? I can send you back to wherever you needed to-”

Her sentence was cut short as a panicked sound cut through the air, and it took the witch a long second to make sense of the words. Bertrand? Who the hell was Bertrand? And what monstrosity was the guy speaking of? “Oh shit,” Nell uttered as Scrappy tore after the man and his delicately robed state, flames licking the corner of the hellhound’s mouth as he barked and sprinted in hot pursuit. In an instant, Nell was tearing after the hellhound’s victim and the dog in question, her strides fast as she left the unfamiliar demon behind. “Scrappy! Scrappy, don’t! It’s okay!” The poor pup was no doubt startled, having shown up in a stranger’s presence with no familiar face in sight. “Scrappy come back! I’m right here! I’ve got fingers!” she yelled as she continued to run, referencing the emergency supply of human fingers she kept as treats for her assorted demonic creatures in her pocket. The hellhound seemed to hesitate for a split second, his pursuit of the man slowing at the mention of food. As a precaution, he tried to herd the man into a corner, gnashing his teeth and growling all the way as he made his attempts.

Well, Bertrand certainly took his time. Even though Darwin was sure that he emphasized his immediate concerns regarding his endangered bits and pieces, the supposedly loyal demonic butler seemed to wait a minute or more before dashing to its master’s safety. They were going to have a talk about that later, much later, when Darwin was once again certain that his own bits and pieces were 100% safe. Bertrand is going to have a lot of explaining to do, though technically it’ll probably only take a mere mention before they both forget about it. It wasn’t like Darwin actually required a butler, and Bertrand, in its defense, was doing the whole schtick out of love and nothing else. It was a strange relationship but it was the only one Darwin was comfortable in trusting.

“Bertraaaaaand!” Darwin yelled again, as quietly as he could, which was a bit of a hilarious contradiction, even as the tiny demon ran to his aid. The other human was already doing her best to keep the hellhound away from Darwin’s precious jewels, which made him think that it was most likely her own Bertrand. “Is this your...pet?” Darwin immediately hated that word. Pet. Demons weren’t meant to be pets. They were meant to be respected as the intellectual and ancient beings that they were and— Oh, my god, it’s about to burn my bits and pieces!

“I’m not sure what happened, but I found your Scrappy instead of my Bertrand in my current place of residence.” He gulped, backed into a corner, and heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Bertrand finally making its way to his defense from the corner of his eyes. “Bertrand! Oh, dear god (ironic, he knows), I’m glad you’re safe! What happened? Why are you out here? Who’s that with you? And for the love of all that’s good and sexy, can YOU please not feed your Scrappy my fingers?! I need them...for stuff.” Darwin fired the series of questions in quick succession, still barely awake to actually make a coherent plan of defense, having just woken up from his afternoon nap, though it was already late at night, and violently at that.

Bertrand just stood there itself, a little panicked, shifting its gaze from Darwin to Nell and then to the hellhound, unsure of what to do. On one hand, Bertrand needed to save Darwin. On the other, it wasn’t quite sure if Nell would appreciate if it tried to fight Scrappy. Besides, Bertrand still had hope in his tiny demon heart that the other human could rein in their own friend. The last thing it wanted was to start another demon-on-demon violence. That was certainly not part of their current deal.

“Scrappy!” Nell continued on with her authoritative tone when it came to making the hellhound stand down. “Scrappy, it’s alright, really.” Much of this particular hellhound’s aggression was actually caused by anxiety and fear, and a need to appear as fierce as possible in the face of a potential threat. The demonic dog finally seemed to pause its attack, though his teeth were still bared, not quite ready to let Darwin forget he was a threat. “Scrappy is…” Nell hesitated with an answer to Darwin’s question, also disliking the title of ‘pet’ when it came to the creatures she looked after. If it came to it, she’d use the word ‘pet’ as a cover, not needing normal humans asking strange questions about the less than usual animals that surrounded her. But as the witch’s gaze flickered from the other, smaller demon, and the man in front of her calling him ‘Bertrand’ with a voice that betrayed familiarity, it wasn’t hard to guess that she was being faced with another spellcaster. “I take care of him, and he helps take care of me when I ask him to,” she said truthfully, rolling up a sleeve to show the summoning tattoo that she’d gotten for the hellhounds, making it easier to Summon them at the drop of a hat. It was inked over the extreme scarring of her arms, the skin of them appearing mottled like a patchwork of flesh.

“And this is Bertrand?” Nell asked curiously, giving the little demon another friendly look. “Does he...speak? I tried talking to him before you ran out here, but he didn’t seem to have much to say.” With a gentle eyeroll, Nell crossed her arms over her chest before digging into her pocket. Scrappy, sensing a treat nearby, finally sat calmly at her feet. “I’m not gonna feed him your fingers. And I’m Nell, who are you? Do you always yell about your bits in the streets?” she decided to jibe playfully. But she was uncertain if the lightness would last. If this man was, indeed, another spellcaster— there was no guarantee he wouldn’t have heard news about the three sisters banned from their coven for necromancy and demon summoning, Nell being one of those three. Witch society was generally less than forgiving when it came to raising the dead, but perhaps he hadn’t heard, or perhaps she’d dodged that conversation by not providing her full name. Finally, she leaned forward to offer Scrappy a very human finger, and the dog eagerly gobbled the treat before sitting properly once again.

Darwin looked her over as she explained herself, mostly just her relationship with the hellhound Scrappy, as he wrapped his robe tighter around him in an attempt to stay warm out in the cold embrace of the night. He was now feeling a bit calmer with Bertrand finally standing beside him while the woman reined in her own companion. It didn't take long to dawn on Darwin how familiar the other spellcaster's relationship with Scrappy seemed with his own with Bertrand. Although Bertrand took a liking to acting and looking like the former Asrani family heir's butler, Darwin himself never really saw their relationship as master and familiar. Bertrand took care of him, even saved his life at one point, and for that, he will forever be grateful. It was most likely that very reason why he could not take to the demon as lesser than himself. Darwin owed Bertrand more than he'll ever care to admit, if only attempt to show through quieter actions. Like sharing pizza and interacting with him like he would any other. To be honest, Darwin probably treated Bertrand better than he did most humans. Without Bertrand, there would be no Darwin to this day.

He instinctively raised an eyebrow when the woman showed him her tattoo, dark brown eyes immediately trying to make sense of the handiwork as if there would be something more hidden beneath what they could see. Darwin thought of showing her his own tattoo but wasn't quite sure if that would be a good idea. The placement was, after all, somewhere more intimate and they were currently outside. Although he was certain that appearing to expose himself to another would be less offensive than having demonic entities prancing around in public, that didn't make him any less wary about that scenario. Thankfully, the woman's curiosity saved him, like the school bell to his hapless problematic student. "Yes, this handsome fellow's name is Bertrand." He turned to the tiny demon with a smile, both born of pride and affection. "Bertrand's my most loyal friend, though he often speaks only through the mind, which I suppose he reserves with known friends, those whose names and consent have been shared with him."

Bertrand himself turned to Darwin, and when their eyes met, nodded with a smile on his face. That moment was quickly ruined when Nell mentioned him yelling about his bits in the streets. While Bertrand was quick to hide his amusement, Darwin feigned a cough as he tried to hide his bits and pieces within his robe, which was barely doing a great job. "Well, you would, too, if you had just awoken from your drunken stupor, only to find an aggressive hellhound in your kitchen instead of your most trusted friend, and then get chased by that same hellhound into the night..." It was certainly an odd choice to summon a hellhound outside, but Darwin was yet to become familiar with this strange place, with its strange love for mimes and stranger disappearances, so who was he to know what was odd and what wasn't in White Crest? One thing he knew for certain, however, was that his bits and pieces were getting cold. "...I am Darwin, and I don't know about you, Nell, but I'd like to keep my bits and pieces warm. My place is, well, you probably already know. Feel free to follow me inside. I rarely have any company, so it might be a little too gloomy, but I just woke up, and I will most likely be up for a few more hours, so feel free to join me and my gloomy company where it'll at least be warm and our friends safe from..." He looked around them, an eyebrow raised, both emphasizing his point and making sure no one was eavesdropping on them. "...curious eyes."

With a nod to her and another to Bertrand, Darwin began to walk away, back inside his place. Bertrand himself waited on Nell and Scrappy with a wide smile, exactly like a butler waiting to usher in his master's guests. The sheer size of that grin would reveal to anyone how much Bertrand wanted to have guests and how few they ever got any. Of course, with a demonic butler and a host that had just arrived in town, the strange pairing wouldn't find it easy to have guests. This was a strange new town for them, and they were a strange new addition to the rest of the town. Besides, Darwin wasn't here to make new friends, but he was at least certain that the other spellcaster would not be his quarry. Perhaps, she would even be of great help to him and his cause.

He had to know what the tattoo was based on his reaction as well as what it meant she was, and Nell wasted no time in pressing the matter of his own identity. “So you’re a spellcaster then, right?” There was a flicker of tentative hope in her words as she asked them, eager to meet another magic user that wasn’t a part of the coven she’d been banished from. Of course, there was no guarantee that news of her and her sisters' excommunication hadn’t reached other corners of witch society, along with the magic they’d done. Obviously demons most likely wouldn’t be a problem with this man, seeing as he had one accompanying him as well, but necromancy was a whole other can of worms, and one that was also heavily feared and frowned upon within magical circles. Not to mention there was the fact that Nell often utilized blood magic, another practice that was most often met with harsh judgement and heavy reservations when others heard she used it. For the moment being, she wouldn’t mention it.

Instead, she decided to say hello to Betrand once more now that she knew his name. “Hello, Bertrand,” she offered a proper greeting with a smile and small nod of her head. “It’s nice to actually meet you. And sorry for summoning you unexpectedly,” she apologized again, knowing it must have been confusing to find himself somewhere new and unexplained.” It was interesting that he preferred to speak mentally, and though Nell was very much wanting to speak with the little guy, she wasn’t quite so sure how she felt about letting him into her mind just yet. With her general desire to keep the inner-workings of her head private, and the consistent mind breaches she was courtesy of Ma’al’s demon cult...she had little desire to forfeit the scarce safety she had in her mind at the moment. But maybe the future would grant her the pleasure of having conversation with Bertrand, one way or another. “And hello Darwin,” she offered with another wry grin.

“I don’t know,” Nell began, once again adopting her teasing tone. “I think I’d be pretty excited to find a hellhound in my kitchen. A gift, really. Probably not running around like a madman while yelling about my bits and pieces and then still talking about them once everything had calmed down.” There was a mischievous sparkle in her eye that told of the levity in her words, no actual intent to harm behind them. She didn’t hesitate to follow behind him as he led the way into his dwellings, tilting her head to the side as she took in the practicality of the place. “How long have you lived here?” she questioned, curious as to how she’d missed another spellcaster that worked with demons. After all, they weren’t exactly common. Nell wasn’t entirely sure how to react to Bertrand acting as butler, feeling a little out of place as the demon flitted about. It felt...strange to use a demon as someone to wait on you, but for all appearances it looked as if the demon was enjoying his job, possibly even thriving as he did his work. If Bertrand liked what he did, who was she to question it?

"Hmm?" The question didn't really surprise Darwin, as it would be pretty obvious to both of them that they shared at least an inkling of what the other was. Both of them had their respective demonic "partners", for a lack of a better term, and he just assumed that she, with that tattoo, was like him, if not better. She looked better, was better, because at the very least, she didn't just wake up, only to run away from a hellhound in just her robe. Speaking of robes, he wrapped his own tighter against himself, wary that his bits and pieces would be unintentionally exposed. He wasn't entirely into her, and all women for that matter, but it was still a matter of maintaining decency, the strange man in only a robe thought. "Just like you. Always good to find common ground with someone new..."

Bertrand simply smiled at Nell with an innocent, friendly sort of grin, the kind no one who wasn't well-versed with demons and their ilk would expect from such a creature. Yet so much would catch people by surprise, just by the fact alone that demons were as complex as humans, perhaps even more so. They were an ancient race, after all, and most knowledge about them barely scratched the surface. Type-casting didn't help. Darwin himself couldn't help but smile at her remark, her teasing, finding it a welcomed respite from the loneliness of having little to no other consistent human interaction, from Bertrand always saying yes and yes only to everything and anything. "That's fair. I did grow up with a hellhound. Sally. She was nice." Again, he tightened his robes against his skin. "Not long. We've just moved here." He answered without look back to her, already making his way to the makeshift bar in his living room. Bertrand, like the good and trustworthy self-appointed butler that they were, waited for Nell to get in before following after her and closing the door behind them.

Darwin was already preparing himself a drink when Bertrand appeared completely appalled at the vision of their master doing something for himself, while they were around. The demon wrangler, however, found their instinctive reaction as well as the horrified look on their tiny demon face somewhat amusing, waving Bertrand back to let them know he's fine with doing it himself. He pretty much didn't need Bertrand to wait on him every damn time but it was the demon's strange wish, a really confusing hobby that Darwin himself has yet to fully understand. He owed him his life, though, so he could never deny Bertrand whatever they wanted. Finally settled on a cocktail, a concoction of two different rums, a cherry brandy, a diet Coke, and Maraschino cherries, Darwin turned to Nell from behind the counter, grinning from ear to ear as he took a sip of his glass and offered her her own. "Bertrand doesn't drink." He raised an eyebrow, turning to the demon who grinned back, before continuing with a classic gender-based assumption that he didn’t wholly believe but thought was a pretty decent jumping point. "Tell me about yourself and your...coven. You're a witch, aren't you?"

As Darwin confirmed the fact that he had magical abilities, Nell’s grin grew wider and more genuine, once again filled with hope at the prospect of having found a new spellcaster to take into her life. She had friends, of course. People she loved. And her sisters still knew what it was to wield magic. But to have a friend that was a spellcaster in her life again? That was something she’d missed more than she’d realized. Nell knew she was getting ahead of herself. After all, they’d barely even made one another’s acquaintance, but she couldn’t help the spark of hope that had lighted in her soul, nearly desperate to find someone like her that wouldn’t hate her. Just as quickly as the hope had blossomed, she watched it with a careful eye, trying to dampen it in the next moment as she reminded herself that she still didn’t know if he’d recognize her full name should she ever give, along with the ‘crimes’ attached to it. Still...she couldn’t help the excitement in her voice as she echoed, “Just like me. A Summoner and everything! Do you mostly do Summoning, then?” she asked, already burning with questions.

Nell didn’t hesitate to return Betrand’s smile, and at the mention of a hellhound Scrappy whined from his place at Nell’s feet where he’d finally settled. To have a demon as part of the family in a household? Her mother and coven would have balked at the idea. “Really? All of your family likes demons, then?” It was a novel idea, and a reality she’d never thought to imagine based off most casters’ reactions to demons. “Oh- well, welcome to White Crest,” Nell offered with half the enthusiasm she’d had when asking about the hellhound. “You’ll find it’s...a very unique place the longer you’re here. And pretty fucking dangerous so just- watch you back, I guess.” It was only fair to warn the man what he was getting into.

The witch accepted the drink with a quick, “Thank you” before taking a sip, and then promptly popping one of the cherries into her mouth. “Good for Bertrand,” Nell said with a chuckle. “Very responsible of him.” But the mention of a coven was quick to tense her shoulders along with her mouth. She should have expected it. How many times had she been told that a witch without a coven was barely anything at all? So of course another spellcaster would ask where her’s was. Nell opted to answer the simpler of the two questions first. “That’s me- a witch.” Her former excitement had waned, already dreading where this conversation might go. “And you’re…? Well- what do you call yourself?” Witch was generally thought of as a woman’s word in pop and normie culture, but she’d met plenty of men who went by the title as well. Now for the rest of her answer. “I don’t have a coven.” Anymore. She carefully opted to leave off the end of that reply, unwilling to ostracize herself so quickly. “There’s one in town, though. Mostly fire elementals.” It was her own former coven, and the very same one her mother had banished her from. “What about you? What about your coven?” Maybe she could turn the rides away from herself into his direction instead.

"Yeah, sure, mostly Summoning..." Darwin offered her a warm smile and a wink before taking another sip of his drink. Although he didn't feel like there was something about her that made her a little difficult trust, something suspicious, anything suspicious, the well-traveled demon wrangler had learned from his past experiences to keep unnecessary additional information from newly made acquaintances. At least at this point, he believed it was the right thing to do. "You could say that. We're all in the...business." He unintentionally turned to Bertrand, as if apologizing for the terms he used. Darwin had never wanted to be associated with the Asrani family name again, their savage and brutal business of wrangling demons and twisting them mentally to suit their financial needs, but he had yet to share who they were truly by name and he could still, in his head, pretend that he was from a better version of his own family.

The momentary loss in thought, however, not to mention the more serious expression that possessed his face, might have hinted to the girl that there was more to his story, bits and pieces he'd rather not share for now, but he immediately tried to ensure to keep the conversation moving elsewhere. If it could even be a suitable distraction. "Thank you. So far, it's been, as you say, unique. I'll keep that in mind, though." At the sound of their name, Bertrand grinned before offering Darwin a quick bow and disappearing into the shadows. Truth be told, their makeshift master had no idea where they disappeared to whenever they were out of his sight, but Darwin would trust Bertrand with his life, as Bertrand themselves had been the only one responsible for extending it.

"I fancy myself a demon wrangler. I seek out the more dangerous demons let loose by careless mages, intentionally or otherwise, rounding them up and settling them safely back home, wherever they believe that is." Throughout his explanation, his dark brown eyes maneuvered themselves onto the hellhound with her. Scrappy, wasn't it? The creature didn't seem like it was brought here against its will. In fact, it actually looked like it was enjoying the woman's company. Darwin grinned at that thought. "Well, isn't that another thing we have in common?" Darwin gave her a nod and ushered her towards the living room, sitting at the sofa, the unexpectedly lavish couch that took the middle of the room as its own. With another sip, he gestured for her to sit with him before continuing. "I'm not much of a coven kind of guy. I find them...stifling at times, suffocating even. I highly value my independence, though..." He gestured around himself, around them, emphasizing the loneliness of his place. "...it'd be nice to have some company every once in a while."

For a moment or two, as their eyes met, Darwin considered poking around in Nell's head, wondering if she was hiding certain truths that he needed to know, if he should just take them for herself. It could be easy. She already had a drink in her hands. But then he got bored of pretending he was his damned father. He could never understand how that old bastard would ever think that was a good option, especially on his own son. What a fucking asshole. He heaved a sigh, mustered a weak smile, and took another sip of his drink.

His wink paired with the tone of voice and phrasing he’d used did little to assure Nell that Summoning was the only magic that Darwin did. It seemed that he was more inclined to withhold whatever other magic he was employing, and for a split moment she wondered if it might be blood magic. Perhaps the taboo nature of it was why Darwin was keeping the practice to himself. A year or so ago, Nell would have hesitated to ask, unwilling to reveal that she too was a practitioner of the questionable magic. But the year since then had taught her that if she were going to lose people for things she wouldn’t apologize for- it was easier to do so earlier in a relationship, to be cut loose before she got in too deep and their rejection would sting all the more. Beyond that she’d also learned that the bigger threat someone thought she might pose... the better. Perhaps if she’d been louder about her abilities, half the people that had tried to interfere in her life wouldn’t have done so in the first place. So it was with a straight back and almost daring air about herself that she said, “I also do blood magic.” Nell watched him for a long moment after that, looking for the familiar flicker of distaste of wariness that came over other spellcasters when she mentioned the discipline.

A demon wrangler made sense based off the way he’d spoken of the otherworldly creatures, and the company he kept with Bertrand. Nell had done her own fair share of recollecting demons that were places they shouldn’t be. “That’s good. And trust me there’s plenty of demons to wrangle around here. Just a few months ago some highschoolers accidentally summoned Bloody Mary. Obviously she’s not a demon but- you get the idea.” Nell refrained from mentioning that two of the teens had died in the process of that entire ordeal. No doubt Darwin was well aware of the casualties that were practically guaranteed when inexperienced practitioners tried to Summon. “You don’t have a coven?” Nell asked again, her curiosity once again piqued. “You’re right about the rules, though. The one I mentioned before has banned any sort of demon summoning.” It had been part of the reason she’d been exiled, though only a fraction of it.

Taking another sip of the drink he’d given her, Nell gave a half-grin at the mention of company, hiding the eagerness she was feeling at having found a spellcaster who wasn’t forbidden from speaking to her, and also wasn’t her sister. “Well if you keep making me drinks- I might be able to provide an answer to the occasional company problem you’re running into.” She still had so much to ask Darwin, but a whine from underneath the table told Nell that Scrappy was getting antsy, still not entirely comfortable with being in the presence of a stranger and his demon. “I should go take care of this boy, though,” she said before leaning down to give the hellhound a pat. “He’s not really good with company- which I’m sure you figured out when he was trying to bit your ‘bits and pieces’ off.” Her tease was accompanied by another grin, obviously taking amusement in using the phrase against him. “But maybe I could bring one of the more confident hellhounds by another time.”

Darwin almost choked on his drink when she revealed the other kind of magic she did. Hailing from a family of mental magic practitioners, which really never ends well when shared with a new acquaintance because humans have always been a paranoid lot, the demon wrangler had strangely little to no experience with actual blood magic and its practitioners. There was that one girl he befriended, the young single mother, but it was a disheartening affair, one that proved to be more dangerous to herself and to the ones around her. Right then and there, Darwin wondered if the same could be said for Nell. How lonely it must be then, and how painful, that one's magic can punish a practitioner beyond the rules of equivalent exchange. Then again, it must be the only appropriate rule for something as dangerous and painful as blood magic. Darwin took another sip of his drink to regain his composure. "That's interesting. I knew a girl who did that, too. She was...admirable."

"Bloody Mary? Really? High Schoolers?" Darwin shook his head, distancing his lips from the glass as they twisted into a playful smirk born out of disbelief that such young children could be capable of summoning bloody Bloody Mary but at the same time impressed of the act. He was also young when he started Summoning, though he focused mostly on smaller demons first. Then again, he was around their age, if he recalled correctly, when he first summoned a demon the size of a human, not unlike Bloody Mary herself in terms of height and number of limbs, though his was more fueled by lust than violent murder. That was also actually when he first realized he preferred men over women. "Did any of them survive?" His smile turned into a frown when he remembered the truth of the matter. Just because you can actually Summon, just because you got lucky in actually drawing someone else, something else, from their world to this one, doesn't mean what happens next will be harmless, profitable for you. Often, the novice, the inexperienced, dies from the ordeal or during the aftermath due to lack of assertion or impression. No one enjoys an unscheduled appearance, without their consent, in a lesser world.

Darwin simply shook his head at the question relating to his coven, the thought of his own family being akin to that to him...until his father tried to bend him, his mind, to their twisted capitalist bullshit. "Ah, but of course. Demon summoning and witchcraft don't always go hand in hand. Either often prefer to be focused on, unable to share their practitioners with one another." At this point, he was just blowing wind up his own ass. He didn't actually know if that bit was true, only that it made sense to him to be so. His grin returned at her tease, or at least what he perceived to be a tease, longer than before. Even though Darwin had his own preferences when it came to carnal pleasures, he enjoyed flirting, teasing, the art and science of which, most likely because it helped boost his ego, his confidence, in ways that he never could growing up, alone, without the familial support he subconsciously craved.

"Of course, my love! Feel free to visit any time. Bertrand and I will always enjoy your company and that of your hellhounds." He offered her a grin as he stood, careful not to expose her to his bits and pieces, like the gentleman host that he believed himself to be. Gesturing towards the door, which Bertrand who just appeared from out of nowhere was quick to open, Darwin accompanied his lovely guest on her way out. He could've actually walked her home but it was getting too cold for his bits and pieces, and he was slowly getting too drunk. He did turn to Bertrand, though, and nodded, a gesture that meant the self-appointed butler would follow the witch back to her abode to simply ensure her safety. Not that Darwin believed she couldn't take care of herself, what with the blood magic and the hellhound at her arsenal. It was more like a routine that he half-remembered from his past before he had to escape, flee, a reminder his late mother always told him: Take care of friends and family, even if they never want you to. Well, Darwin was out of family, and Nell was the first friend he'd made in town. Might as well.

Nell waited with a steely gaze for Darwin’s verdict, ready to write off this newfound and tentative friendship here and now if he reacted negatively when it came to her blood magic. She didn’t need anymore people in her life that would leave her down the road, but it seemed that paranoia had been misplaced when he spoke of admiration. “She was?” Nell echoed, as if confirming she’d heard correctly. Obviously she had, and the thought filled her with another spark of tentative hope. “I’m sure she was, then. Admirable, I mean.”

As for the highschoolers…”Just one,” Nell answered grimly, still holding some residual guilt for having been unable to save the entire lot of them. “Two of them died in the process, including the one who had the ability to Summon in the first place. I don’t think he knew, though- that he held the magic. He didn’t make a proper sacrifice and- well- the Summoning decided it wanted more. I’m sure you understand.” None of them were free of the chains of equivalent exchange, and sometimes the jailers demanded entire lives as a means of paying the price.

But as Scrappy whined once again, Nell knew he was reaching his limit of being indoors and stationary, and in the presence of a man he’d chased down the street and was still not entirely certain of. “I really am sorry I have to go- there’s a ton more I wanted to ask. But I’ll probably also just message you once I’m home on the White Crest forum thing, and we can pick up where we left off. But I mean it about the drinks,” she reiterated with a grin, still wishful that this budding friendship might be a lasting one. “So be prepared for me to bother you about that within 2-5 business days.” Gathering up Scrappy, she made her way towards the door, giving Bertrand a nod of goodbye as well, not yet realizing that he’d be trailing her on the way home. “And I’ll see you, as well I hope.” With that she was making her way out of his apartment and onto the street, below, pausing with a small smile on her lips to let herself bask in the potential promise of another spellcaster in her life that didn’t hate her guts. Even though she still wasn’t sure how the demon mixup had occurred, that worry could be kept at bay for the moment being with the knowledge that she’d started something new out of it.

#chatzy #ch:darwin #wickedswriting #the littlest pet swap

17 notes · View notes

donkey-hyuck · 3 years

Text

♫ playlist ♫

word count- 2,378

chapter warnings- mentions of guns/violence | dialogue heavy

series masterlist!

⤷⤷ prologue ➤ chapter one ➤ chapter two ➤ ✵chapter three✵ ➤ chapter four ➤ |you’re here| ➤

𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙍: everything that is written is purely fiction and does not depict reality :)

«────── « ⋅ʚ🔥ɞ⋅ » ──────»

prior to his leave— at around ten o’clock— renjun paid his respects to your company ceo, eunha, and of course, you.

subtly, he took you away from a conversation between another one of your interns as he guided you to a secluded area in the lobby. you scowled your eyes at him before sharply asking what he wanted.

“i’d slow down there, princess. i’m the biggest ceo in china, i can ruin your career like that,” he ended with a snap of his fingers, “ but don’t worry, my love. i wouldn’t do that to you. i just came back to say that i’m taking my leave for tonight. i hope to see you around,” he winked and walked off. however, before he actually left the venue, he was quick to snap a picture of you before actually leaving to his car and sending the picture to his team— his other team.

by the time renjun reached his mansion, he sent doyoung the pictures he took and a general description of your physical appearance. the boys were on their way researching right on time.

—

the weekend came by and you were on your way to ‘style studio’ for an appointment with a regular client. she seemed to like you tons and you couldn’t really blame her, you were the whole package.

when you first entered the small clinic, you saw renjun waiting in the waiting room of the lobby. he was reading some magazine— which featured some of his apparels— before looking up to see who entered the building.

prior to your entrance, renjun figured out where you worked within the body and soul inst. and immediately drove his way there after making a few agreements between some of your coworkers just for a chance to see you again. he figured it was all a coincidence and would never be able to see you again, but he remembered who he was. and huang renjun was capable of a lot of things, which made it possible for him to locate where and when you worked, exactly.

clueless as to who was in the waiting room, you greeted the receptionist— hayoon— a good morning before he told you that someone was looking for you, specifically ceo huang renjun. unfortunately, you were wearing some accessories made by huang&co. which made you regret choosing to wear them in the first place. his company made cute and trendy items, of course you purchased some accessories— though you were to admit that they were a bit on the pricier side.

renjun seemed to notice that you were looking over your shoulder and peering at him so he set aside the magazine that he had in his hands and walked over to you. gently smiling at hayoon and guiding you towards the hallway.

“mr. huang, what a pleasure seeing you here. on a saturday. at eight o’clock in the morning,” you said through gritted teeth. the man only grinned and asked if you were busy. he also complimented your choice of accessories.

“of course i am, i have a job. and don’t flatter yourself, they were gifts,” you snapped back and got your keys to open your office to get ready for the appointment you had today. but before you were able to open the door, his hand covered the doorknob, preventing you from opening it and turning to him. you looked at him with your brows furrowed and eyes blazing.

“are you busy later? let’s have dinner, my treat,” he smugly said. you blinked at him like he was a crazy person and noticed your client walk through the entrance doors. you didn’t end up responding to him and just pushed past the door to start your day. he just had to show up then.

you just closed the door in his face but then there were screams that were heard out in the hallway. frantically, you peeped open the door just a smidge and detected the amount of fans barging into the clinic. huang fucking renjun.

the older client walked into the room earlier than the fans that had barged in. there weren't a lot of people but it was a good amount that made everyone that was in the building freak. even the client herself was shocked to see ceo huang renjun in the building way too early in the morning. to that, you just laughed it off and got ready to start her treatment.

she was actually the only client you were taking that day and the rest is history. you had no other plans for the day but you definitely did not want to make plans with the ceo himself; he was immature, and inappropriate.

it was only about eleven in the morning when you packed up your things to go back home. surprisingly enough, renjun was still present in the clinic. right when you locked the door to your office, renjun appeared from out of the men’s bathroom and looked at his surroundings, instantly recognizing you walking toward the exit.

out of your peripheral vision, you knew he was still there so you silently groaned but still walked out to your car.

but to your dismay, renjun knocked on your car window startling you. and it only took a minute for you to come back to your senses. you sighed to yourself and rolled down your tinted windows.

“mr. huang, what can i do for you now?” you fakely smiled as he discreetly looked around through his sunglasses. he then leaned against the car door and let his sunglasses fall down the bridge of his nose.

“you never answered my request, my love. it’s a yes or no question. but just know that i won’t take no for an answer.”

“so then i don’t really have a choice anyways,” you sighed out.

“nope. text me your address, i slipped a little something in your bag,” he winked again and walked towards his car. before you drove off back home, you searched in your bag to see a note. handwritten from renjun.

‘xxx-xxx — i hope to see you tonight xoxo, renjun. p.s. don’t call me mr. huang! it’s too formal.’

who knew ceo huang would be that much of a flirt.

—

oh, but ceo huang was not a flirt. he just had a natural aura that brought those close to him. renjun was actually the exact opposite of a flirt. whatever girls came by, he just swept them off their feet without even trying. but you; you were a different story. something, some urge or push of his feelings desired you, and he needed you pronto.

and to be completely honest, you were on the same boat, but on a more low-key level. catching the eyes of those who cared, including famous actor— lee donghyuck. the two of you had a little fling, a little something, but it didn’t last very long— only four months— before he just ghosted you. but that’s a different story for another day.

you contemplated for a while about actually messaging renjun. however you just mustered up all the courage you had and dialed his number.

when his phone screen lit up with an unidentified number, he picked up, completely forgetting he gave you his number.

“mr. huang…” you went silent on the other line but he immediately knew whose voice it belonged to.

“my love! are you actually considering having dinner with me?” he gasped, truly aghast that you had called. you were silent for a moment before sighing once more.

“yeah…. i guess i am since you’re too stubborn,” the phrase made him laugh in amusement.

“but i have a few rules,” he hummed, telling you to continue, “i will be calling you mr. huang and if we get into trouble we are just gonna say that this is all business. and i’ll be paying half of the bill.”

his grin was ear to ear and he was jovial to have you join him for dinner.

“okay then, angel. send me your address and i’ll pick you up at eight. dress nicely, please.” the man was stoked to hear you agree and was excited to get to know you.

—

you thought it would’ve been humorous if you were to wear a dress made by huang renjun himself but the more you looked in the large mirror in your bedroom, the more you thought that it would fit the occasion. this dinner was your first time actually wearing the dress, tags on and everything. but it truly was a beautiful dress. the dress was a navy blue satin a-line with an open back, it screamed elegance and simplicity. similar to the ‘face it skincare’ opening party which you honestly don’t really want to think about.

you were actually gifted that dress by none other than lee donghyuck. he invited you to a dinner party with a few costars but never ended up texting you back. but you’re here now, and you’re going on a ‘date’ with one of the most powerful ceo’s in the world.

as you were admiring how the dress looked on you, a text notification dings on your phone. at first you thought it was renjun but it was actually hyunwoo.

‘you free tonight? haseul and i are going out to get blue hill in 20 mins, you down?’

blue hill was a diner in town that was popular for its decorations and attractions plus the food service. blue hill was your home, it always would be. unfortunately, you had to decline the offer with your friends and they immediately called you.

“woah, y/n! why are you so dolled up tonight?” shrieked haseul.

you rolled your eyes and rubbed your face, “mr. huang asked me for dinner tonight. i would love to be there with you guys but that man is so damn stubborn.” the pair have each other a look before looking at your pixelated face and giving you knowing smirks. it made you want to rip out their faces.

“guys, it’s really not like that! he came to the clinic earlier and would not leave me alone! i’m just doing this so that he would leave me alone!” you whined and got another text notification from renjun, “look, i gotta go. i’ll call you guys later.” your friends just laughed and waved you goodbye before ending the phone all. you looked at your reflection one more time and straightened out the nonexistent wrinkles in your dress. it was now or never.

you walked to your front door to see renjun unintentionally wearing a matching navy blue tie with your dress. your heart dropped in that moment. there was no way in hell that you were going to match, and it wasn’t even planned out.

when renjun looked at you he felt as if time stopped again. you were the most beautiful person he ever laid eyes on and he felt like he was home. even after barely knowing who you were, you made him feel safe. and to be quite honest, you felt the same way towards the ceo. just didn’t show it as much.

“wow, you look like an angel,” he unintentionally muttered out. you sucked in a breath, showcasing your collarbone before smiling out and thanking him.

he lent out his arm, to which you hesitantly caved in, and led you out of your apartment complex and into his car. though he was a flirt with you— and he really wanted to— huang renjun refrained himself from holding your hand or your thigh while he was driving to the restaurant.

he ended up taking you to ‘la toque’ which was a lavish european restaurant near downtown. you did not know how you were going to pay half of the bill. silently, you groaned to yourself and followed behind the man.

what you didn’t know, was that you were a part of a mission. of course, he wanted to take you out, from the bottom of his heart, but it so happened to be that there was trouble coming your way.

renjun eyed the place before locking gazes with dong sicheng— the resilient caporegime, lee jeno— the gunman, nakamoto yuta— the vigilante detective, and kim jungwoo— the computer tech. he sent a nod to the boys and guided you to the booth he reserved with a gentle hand on the small of your back, which sent chills down your spine.

unexpectedly, the dinner went smoothly until loaded men shouted through the room of the dining hall. it was all a blur. one moment you hear guns shooting, the next you hear shouting. without knowing, tears trickled down your face and made renjun regret having you come in the first place.

carefully, he cupped your cheek and hid you behind the bar, wiping your tears away and assuring you that everything was fine, but were just left speechless and looked at him with loss in your eyes. this made renjun’s heart hurt but he had to do his job. to keep him alive, to keep you safe.

—

their parents forbid them to never see each other again. but of course, the pair never listened and disobeyed their parents even more.

while violating their parents, the boy and the girl constantly saw each other over the years. they practically grew up together. and in those years, grew not only them, but the feelings they held for each other.

however the boy… well, the boy was being sent off to fight in the war. when he was of age, he told his lover what his family was planning for him. they were both left devastated.

so the two ran away. just like them in the past, they ran away. somewhere far, where people won’t break them apart. somewhere far from their parents and far from the war. because all they wanted was to be happy.

but one night, on one of their adventures; the boy left. he left so as to not let his lover get killed. he left the only other person that loved him for who he was.

they were the same people— rascals— but he did it for her. to keep her safe.

“don’t worry, my love. everything will be fine.”

chapter four ➤ chapter five ➤ chapter six

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @ichigofelix @moonbeamsung @heavenlyhuangs @kisshim @lixseu

#nct #nct dream #nct scenario #nct imagines #nct renjun #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream renjun #renjun scenarios #renjun x reader #renjun imagines #renjun angst #renjun au #huang renjun #nct series

12 notes · View notes

the-wintershade · 4 years

Text

— just like oil on my hands

pairing: sam wilson x f!reader x bucky barnes summary: you and sam having a myriad of bonding moments and the thought of falling for him becomes nearly unbearable, but, just when things get serious, there’s always something in the way. wc: 6.5k+ genre: flirting, good banter, heat, awkwardness and tension

Blue Shade: series — masterlist | 04

Sam makes sure to bring you to everything now. It’s as him disclosing his place of complete secrecy has opened up another side of him that you’ve never seen before. Dancing is more exciting, you laugh consistently when you’re together, and you meet up when class isn’t in session.

It’s as if the almost kiss was erased wholly from your memory.

You find out about his obsession with Marvin Gaye and the Trouble Man soundtrack. He’s got the whole album and listens to it almost everyday, but it took you a little bit to pry that slightly embarrassing detail from him.

“Oh, you must really like him.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty good.” He laughs into his coffee as you sit at the table you’ve officially decided to co-parent.

“To have over 300 listens to the same songs is pretty impressive considering that you only recently bought the whole album.” You wiggle your eyebrows and he tries his best to keep a straight face, sputtering into his drink. You grin at his momentary lapse in restraint.

“Well, like I said, Marvin Gaye is the best.” He watches you with a mirthful gaze and you squint your eyes at him, knowing there’s a part he’s not telling you.

“Well, Rachel knows that that’s only partially true.” You lean your head down and pretend that she’s agreeing with you, nodding your head enthusiastically. “That’s exactly right Rachel, he’s hiding something from us. He doesn’t love you like I do, Rachel.”

“Rachel, don’t listen to that. You know that I’ve been coming here consistently these past few weeks and we’ve been listening to the soundtrack together.” He folds his arms and leans back as if he’s won this battle. Ha.

“Everytime, huh?” You nonchalantly take a sip.

“Yep.” He purses his lips in triumph.

“Sounds like this is an everyday occurrence.”

“‘Cause it is.” He retorts and you point directly at him. He sputters through his drink, realizing he’s been caught, trying to scramble for a response.

“Ah—the truth finally comes out. He is legally insane.” You spread your arms in victory, sweet sweet victory. “He’s completely addicted to the soundtrack and cannot go a day without listening to it. Your honor, this case is officially closed; you have all of the evidence you need to convict this man.”

“You can’t prove that.” He chuckles, snatching his phone back to put it safely back in his pocket.

“If you were in love with Marvin Gaye, Sam, all you had to do was say the word.” You take a sip while grinning and he fakes annoyance and rolls his eyes before breaking down in laughter. You follow closely behind him.

…

He also takes you rollerskating. He tries to talk you through it and reassures you that it’s pretty easy. He just wasn’t aware that you used to hit the rink every Friday as a kid and although it’s been a while since you’ve gotten back on the rink, you used to be a pro.

This was going to be easy, but it wouldn’t be that hard to play a little prank on him.

He’d helped you lace your skates up tight enough that your ankles wouldn’t roll and you let him, pretending to be all dainty and unaware of the roller skating experience. You did enjoy taking his hands again as he hoisted you to your feet and held most of your weight, making sure you kept your balance.

He was extremely careful, walking you through the steps as you wobbled and shook heavily on phoney weak and unpracticed legs. His hands were strong and steady, a calming pulse about as soothing as his warm voice guiding you how to weave one foot in and out to create some speed.

“There you go, you got it.” His encouraging voice made you smile, a genuine display of teeth. Of course, it wasn’t because you were making small, fake steps of progress, but because he was willing to be patient with you as you moved through the steps. It made your heart soften and a warmth of pure adoration erupt in your core.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this.” Your legs shook violently and you pretended to stumble. He caught you, his hands gripping your forearms determinedly, not allowing you to even think of falling, drawing you into his strong chest.

He breathed a little slower, looking down at you with concern and laughter. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You breathed shakily, laying your performance thick. “Let me try again.”

You stood up straight again and gently tugged against his hands. “I want to see if I can do it without you.”

“Okay, just be careful.” He didn’t look convinced that you could do it, but he slowly let go of you, keeping his hands out just in case you needed the security of them again. He made sure to stay close and you allowed yourself a small smirk at his protectiveness and concern.

You winked at him and spun around, taking off around the circle of the rink, sure that your legs and previous experience would be more than capable of supporting your own weight. You even ignored the stopper on the front and slowed your speed by dragging the side of your wheel.

His mouth hung open as you drifted right next to him, turning around to skate backwards. Then he let out a huff in disbelief. “You lied to me.”

“I thought it’d be a great opportunity to find out how good of a teacher you were.” You shrugged in false innocence and made sure to stay slightly out of his reach, even when he started to drift closer.

“And after I laced up your shoes, after I took all this time to walk you through all of the steps.”

“It was a nice added benefit.” You laughed.

“Oh, okay. I see how you wanna play this.” His eyes turned to something darker, losing the bright light they held and morphing into a deeper expression of humor and resolve.

You wasted no time in turning around and taking off, squealing as he rode fast on your heels. Giggles escaped you as his fingertips brushed against your clothing now and again. He eventually gained enough speed to pull you right next to him, forcing you to slow down and face him.

The vestiges of your laughter died down while you looked at him. He wasn’t mad at all. His chest heaved up and down, his teeth spread into a huge grin. “You’re not getting off that easily.”

The ensuing roller skating dance battle was epic.

…

“Keep up, Coffee girl. I saw the way you moved on those skates!” He called over his shoulder as he lapped you, the tall tower near the Lincoln Memorial loomed in the distance as you tried to catch up to him near the reflecting pool.

You huffed, your lungs squeezing with flame, and you struggled to take in air, your mouth crumbly and dry. You’d sweated through your exercise shirt and were about three seconds from passing out.

You should have expected this. Sam was in the military after all and it made sense that the regimen never really goes away that easily, but you hadn’t expected to get ran into the next century. Sure, you could move your way around roller skates, but the wheels did a lot more for you than you actually did for the skates. The running shoes you wore right now weren’t going to assist in keeping your pace. This was all manual labor.

And you hadn’t tried to run in years. Middle school P.E. was likely the last time you ever tried to pace yourself through a measly mile.

You saw him make his way around the halfway point and came to a stop, placing your hands tightly on your knees and taking in as much air as you possibly could in the moment. You closed your eyes, feeling the sweat creating small rivets down your neck and back, clinging to your hair and your clothes. You felt dirty, in deep need of a hot shower and three healthy gallons of water.

“On your left.” Sam huffed past you, but you kept your eyes closed and took in more air until you could feel like you would be able to form a response.

When you opened them, Sam was watching you with that mixture of mirth and worry. “You alright there?”

“Yeah,” You could barely speak the words, the syllables filled with air instead of the ringing of your vocal chords. “I’m okay. Just need a minute.” You closed your eyes again and took deep breaths until you could get your breathing under control.

You heard Sam tread over to you and crouch down in front of you. “Hey.” Your eyes peeled open slowly, and he was right there with a soft smile on his face. “Let’s take it slow.”

You nodded and stood up straight, ignoring the stabs of pain shooting through your side. Sam took his place beside you and started on what was undoubtedly a slow jog for him, but was a manageable pace for you. You ignored the pain, fighting to stay moving.

Sam didn’t treat you with pity or that you would crumble. He stayed right next to you, bringing up topics that you could bicker over or discuss to a deep enough degree to keep your mind off your jog. He was kind and supportive. He took breaks with you when you needed to stop and would slow your pace if you were beginning to struggle again.

He showed you time and time again that he was everything Bucky was not. He was giving you so many reasons why he was better. Why you should choose him.

And everytime, you thought you didn’t deserve him. He doesn’t deserve someone caught up in a relationship with someone else. The longer you dwelled on these thoughts, the sadder you became. A hole opened up, eating through your thoughts of him.

Because you wanted to be that supporting shoulder that he was for you, but you weren’t sure that would ever happen. By the time you got out, it might be too late for Sam. Besides, you had to prove that you weren’t boring, that you could be exciting too. That you could keep a man interested.

Sam picked up on your change in mood and slowed your pace even more. “What’s going on? Thinking about him, again?”

“No.” You shook your head and gave a sad smile. “Something else that’s more important.”

He nodded and smiled. “Well get your head out of the clouds, Coffee Girl. We got three more laps to do.”

You huffed in frustration and gave a sad attempt at a laugh. “People must really call you Falcon for good reason. You just fly around those corners don’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

...

Another day, another dance class. Sam spins you around as usual and dips you down, supporting you as you grab onto his arms. He whips you up and around with a flourish before pulling you back in, the both of you back to swaying to the beat. You let off a giggle as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You’ve all been learning choreography for the main dance that will take place pretty soon after the first dances. It’s been fun so far and everyone is picking everything up fast. It’s nice to feel like you’re part of something important.

It will all suck when he finally gets a replacement and he’ll get to dance with some other, more impressive girl. You just try to enjoy it all while you’re still here with him and he’s still willing to entertain your mess of a social life.

You and Natasha spin around each other, changing partners. Clint keeps you at a respectable distance while making sure you get your timing and steps right. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” He grins as he spins you.

“Not at all.” You huff, twirling back to him as you glide around the dance floor. “I trust you and Natasha are having a good time?”

“As always.” He smirks and you dance in a good silence before it’s time to change partners again. “Have fun.” He wishes you with a subcurrent of intentional enthusiasm. You just laugh as he passes you back, Natasha’s red hair becoming a blur. You catch her eyes mid-turn and she winks at you. You grin back.

Sam catches you easily and pulls you back in, making sure you're comfortable before moving. You didn’t notice how close you normally stand while dancing, but the apparent gap between you and Clint made it that more clear. You’re nearly touching his chest and your toes are just a breath apart.

But it wasn’t unusual to you before. It’s comfortable, easy. You don’t bother to change it now, because you like it this way.

You shouldn’t.

But you do.

The instructor moves closer to you. “Great form. You make excellent partners.” She claps in excitement and you both grin abashedly at the direct attention. “I’ll bet you’ll be the next ones to get married.”

Your blood runs cold and your eyes widen involuntarily. The statement carries more weight than she probably intended, but the fact that you’re technically still bound to Bucky brings the world back into focus. Until you can get the current boyfriend situation figured out, there couldn’t be a you and Sam. Not permanently.

No matter what your heart wanted.

No matter how much that statement, as much as it took you off guard, excited you.

Sam sobered as much as you did and stopped moving entirely. He looked to you to gauge your reaction and when he saw your face open in shock, his own frowned, his light dying slightly. Then he steeled himself. “Depends on who catches the bouquet.”

She laughed and gestured for you to continue. You took a deep breath and looked up to him. You both didn’t say anything to each other, but you shared a look of deep understanding of how serious a statement like that was.

…

You step out at a beautiful building with glass doors and racks on racks of differing pants and shirts, ties and cuffs. It’s even more impressive inside. Sam waits for you in a chair outside of the dressing room.

“Hey.” You breathe watching him get to his feet and walk over to you.

“Thanks for coming.” He nods and glances over your outfit. It’s a casual glance, but it sparks a hum of electricity down your spine.

“Yeah, well, the bridesmaid’s were having a fitting and I’m not technically invited so it’s probably a good thing I’m here.” You shrugged, flipping your hair over your shoulder and he laughed richly, rolling his eyes at your show.

Sam shows you to your seat just inside the dressing room, leading you to a place with a good deal of mirrors and a pedestal for the model to stand on. You take a seat on the plush chair and scroll through some ambient notifications, catching up on social media, and sending a few text messages.

Sam asked you a few days ago if you’d come be “quality control” over his choice for a suit. The only stipulation that Steve put on his groomsmen is that the suit needs to be white. It seemed oddly out of character for a man that appeared traditional and old fashioned, but you welcomed the change. You’d heard the bridesmaid dresses were going to be red instead of the pale pink that was usually encouraged. But then again, Peggy did rock a red lip better than anyone else you knew; you had no doubt that her lip color of choice influenced her decision.

Why Sam really needed your help, eluded you. He was a perfectly capable man that was more than equipped to make his own choices and could definitely shop for himself, but you weren’t complaining. He was getting you out of a ridiculous dinner date with Bucky and whatever other work friend he was so hellbent on impressing. Not being there gave you all the energy you needed to focus.

When Sam steps out, your breath catches in your throat. He waves his arms out, letting you see the white suit in action as he spins around. He adjusts his red tie in the mirror before looking back at you. “What do you think?”

You can’t form words. Your brain is having a hard time catching up to what’s going through your mind. How handsome he looks, how the suit is fitted perfectly, how he looks outstanding and beautiful. It’s like you’re back at the boardwalk again.

The white stands out starkly against his chocolate skin and makes it even more heavenly. It’s like white was his color. The only one he should wear for the rest of his life.

“It looks fantastic on you…” Your mouth still hangs open as you speak and it takes effort to control your eyes, keeping them at a normal wideness. You know your tone is dreamy and slightly slurred, but you can’t help it. “You-You look amazing.”

Sam just stares.

“You like?” The tailor flutters around him, adjusting his suit jacket and his pants. It wouldn’t matter if the suit was ill-fitted. He’d still look fantastic and your breath would still have suddenly disappeared from your body.

You nodded absentmindedly, drifting closer to get a good inspection of him. Your fingers reached for his tie, fiddling with it in your grasp and feeling the soft, silken texture. He froze completely now, just watching you adjust his slightly crooked tie. You straightened it.

“Well, good thing quality control was here to fix it for you.” You breathed out, softly chuckling at the end. It helped cover up some of your nerves. Your fingers shook as you kept your hands closed.

His smile was delayed by a good few seconds, but it was followed by a timid laugh, shallow and not a deep as you were used to. He must have felt the same jittery anxiety that you were.

You knew the reasons that you felt this way, but his were even more muddy and less clear.

“You know how these things work, Coffee Girl?” His voice was low, but took on a light and joking tone as he gestured to the tie.

You shook your head with a smirk. “Yes, bell bottoms, I know how to tie a tie properly.”

His following laugh was covered in nerves. He then lowered his eyes so that they were almost leveled with yours, all dark and warming. A fire ignited someone near your core at his gaze. “You don’t have to worry about my tie so much.”

You cleared your throat and turned him around, letting him get a good observation of himself in the mirror. You let your hands linger on his shoulders for a second longer than necessary, feeling the strength of his arms underneath his suit.

The tailor hums in approval. “Yes. Very good. Doesn’t he look good to you?”

The question was a bit more direct than you were prepared for and you sputtered for a second, Sam’s eyes catching yours in the mirror and sending another wave of fresh nervousness pulsing through your system. “Uh, yeah. I guess.” You want to slam your head into the nearest wall. What was that response?

You scratch the back of your head and step out of the way of his continuing adjustments. “No need for bashfulness. I can see the way you look at him.” He flashes a dazzling smile your way as you pointedly duck Sam’s inquiring eyes.

There’s not a response in the world that would be able to fix the conversation or steer it onto a path that would allow you to be honest while ignoring the feelings inside of your chest. You’re really in it now.

You just settle for an, “oh”, as you turn and resume your place on the chair, far out of the reach of touching Sam and away from the tailor’s focused stare.

It’s not the answer that the tailor was expecting and he must have picked up on the growing tension and awkwardness in the room. He weaves around the lapse in conversation like it’s nothing, quickly asking another slightly personal question that’s only that much harder to answer with certainty.

“You two are going to the wedding together, right?” Sam catches your eyes in the mirror and the pressure of a response once again falls on you. You have no idea how to answer this question correctly. It doesn’t seem like Sam has anyone else in mind, but your spot hasn’t been solidified for sure.

Plus, Sam’s looking like he wants you to say yes. Like he knows that there’s no one else, but he wants you to agree, to confirm that you’d be willing to go with him.

You try somewhere in the middle, hoping to not to give anything away.

“We’re dance partners right now, at least until his date can step in.” Sam’s face falls half an inch and he looks away. The tailor doesn’t notice, nor does he catch how instantly you deflate.

He just hums and pauses, watching Sam for a reaction.

Sam shrugs, turning his focus all on the business of tailoring his suit. “More or less.” He concedes.

“The woman that comes to see the tuxedo is always the one that goes to the wedding.” The tailor winks and returns to adding pins where the suit needs material eliminated. Your face still feels heavy and you feel guilty, like you gave a wrong answer on a test.

You stand then, determined to find something else to do to take your mind off of overanalyzing the situation at hand. “I’ll be over here.” You point at the racks near the back of the store full of dress shirts.

You meet Sam’s eyes in the mirror and see all traces of hurt or disappointment are gone. He just smirks at you and nods. You return it the best you can, going over to see what shirts would look good on Bucky, but your heart isn’t in it. It probably wasn’t in it for some time now.

But if you could just prove to Buckty that you could be interesting, then maybe you’d finally be interesting enough for someone else. Maybe you would be good enough for Sam.

You shook your head sadly to yourself.

You could live millions of lifetimes and still never deserve him. He needed someone that wasn’t caught up with someone else or preoccupied with improving herself. He needed someone that knew who she was. You weren’t there yet.

…

“Thank you.” He brushes against your shoulder as he says it. It could be written off as accidental, you do have to be close together on the sidewalk to avoid getting pushed over, but it’s a bit too firm for that to really be the case. His tone is low and courteous. “I’m sorry the tailor was so curious. He likes to keep the conversation going so that it doesn’t become awkward. He has a habit of asking personal questions.”

You smile to yourself and try to ignore how easy it would be to reach out and take his hand. These thoughts are fickle and dangerous. It’s becoming harder and harder not to do the thing you shouldn’t be doing. “It’s not a big deal, Sam, really.”

He cocks his head to the side at your use of Sam. He doesn’t comment on it though and you walk side by side through the streets. At times, he gets a little ahead of you to warn off some of the people that are beginning to get too close for his liking. It’s like he’s creating a path for you.

Then his walk changes; it carries an agitation that it didn’t before. Something’s weighing on his mind. “What’s wrong?” You ask nonchalantly, but know that he’ll recognize you picked up on his subtle changes in body language.

He looks down as you come to a pause at a red light. He searches around the street before he looks at you, taking a deep breath. Your anxiety raises at his hesitation. “I have a preposition for you, Coffee Girl.”

He looks straight at you now and that responding jolt spreads through you again, like it always does now. You try to ignore it as you look right back at him. “Shoot.” You step near him and narrow your eyes, like he’s a criminal spilling his master plan.

He laughs and you breathe a bit better. It’s not too bad if he’s willing to crack a smile at your approach. “What if...I never got a date to replace you? What if you went with me?”

His eyes look so pure and pleading now, it’s hard to look away. But you take a few steps back because you shouldn’t be so excited at the notion of going with him at all. This electricity is wrong, but it’s still happening, regardless of what’s going on in your life right now.

Sam sees the war happening all on your face and tries to backpedal. “Sorry if that was abrupt. If you’re uncomfortable, I can find someone else...”

“No, I want to go.” You fire back the response fast and his shoulders stop climbing, like a weight has been lifted off of them. “I just think I should talk to Bucky first.” And you should, he doesn’t know that he didn’t get another partner and Bucky is your significant other. If you’re going to a wedding with another man, it would be right to let him know about it.

“Okay, so,” He leans in a bit further than necessary, but you let him. You like being in his space. You like being close to him. “If that conversation goes well, you’ll come with me?” His eyes twinkle with hope and you blush at how open it all is. He’s letting you see that, whether he wanted you to or not.

You pretend to think about it, raising your hand dramatically to your chin and stroking it with finesse and refinement. You tilt your nose to sky to emphasize the deepness and complexity of thought that should be going through your mind right now. The pro and cons, the good parts and bad parts of the conversation that you’re going to have to have with Bucky, but it’s all absent. You already know your answer. You knew when he asked.

“Yes, bell bottoms, I’ll go with you.”

…

A day later, you’re knocking on Sam’s door, standing outside pacing to yourself after getting a cryptic text message about getting some extra practice before the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. You don’t really know what’s going through his head, your moves are fine and you’ve both got the steps down to a science, extra practice shouldn’t really be a problem.

But you knew what jitters felt like and you could understand wanting to do it one more time to calm your nerves. Your heart rate flew and a tingling sensation lingered in your fingers and your stomach.

Sam swings the door open, a pleasant smile on his face and a glimmer wafting behind his chocolate eyes.“Come on in.”

His living room is illuminated by soft candle light and the golden glow from a floor lamp. Another Marvin Gaye song echoes gently around the space, its place of origin a boombox on his countertop. You wonder if this is a passtime or if this was something more special. You hope it’s more special.

“Woah, you didn’t tell me you were an interior decorator, bell bottoms.” You’re so in awe of your surroundings, you missed that he’s standing right next to you.

“Are you ever going to let the teasing over the Trouble Man album go?” You smirk at him as you turn, eyes squinted and goading.

“Where do you think the bell bottoms nick-name came from?” You bump his shoulder with yours, but he doesn’t move away or create space when you do; he makes sure to stay just close enough to keep your arms in contact.

“Uh huh.” He hums deep from the core. It sends a buzz through you and you fight down a blush. Then he moves, spreading his arms and taking a few steps back. “Shall we or is this too old-fashioned for your liking?”

You roll your eyes and place your hand firmly in his, putting your trust in him once again, knowing that he won’t let you down. He draws you in, your breath thinning out at the proximity. It’s becoming more tolerable now and doesn’t throw you off as much as it used to, losing your breathing rhythm around him. It calms you down, helps you focus.

He’s eyes are dark and alluring as he watches you, adjusting his positioning until he’s satisfied that you’re comfortable. “Are we going to be letting Mr. Gaye sing us through this one?” You inquire in faux innocence and watch as his face twists into a humorous disdain.

“You, Ms. (last name), need exposure to real music.” He takes a step which you take with him, already knowing where he’s going from here as you begin the spins at a slightly faster pace than you’re used to in order to keep up with the beat.

“Real music, huh?” He spins you outward before drawing you back close in again, another jolt shooting through your blood.

“Yes.” He says it with a seriousness that silences you, but then he’s all smiles and smirks again and you wonder what you were expecting from a man with the nickname of Falcon. “Now just listen.”

“I’ll try.” You sway together, waiting for your cue before the next performance of turns and spins occur. You like this. You like his warm hands and eyes and glowing personality. How you can relax around him and not feel like you have to watch everything you say. How you fit together, like two halves of a charm that only fit around each other.

You close your eyes and listen, catching a few lines before you’re twirling away from him in a mix of gold and brown.

Yeah, darling you're not wasting my time What I see baby is so hard to find

…

A lightheadedness from all the dancing put a pause on your swaying session and giggle marathon. There were numerous times that you had to completely redo moves from laughing so hard. You almost fell over each other at times.

A funny spasm moved through your chest as you leaned your neck against the back of his sofa, trying to cool off while Sam brought water over. He placed the glass in your hand, a stark contrast from the warmth that he always pulsed into your skin.

You thanked him before drinking a bit, nodding along to another soft Marvin Gaye song in the background. You felt him watching you as he sat next to you, downing half of his glass. “Never met someone who likes Marvin Gaye so much for a person who claims they don’t like old music.” He smirked knowing over at you.

You shooed him with your hand. “I never said I didn’t like old music; I just mention and frequently tease you about your addiction to the music from the 70s. That’s got nothing to do with the quality of the music.”

Sam grins widely as he goes to get another sip of water before setting the glass down and smiling. You cup your drink in your hand, letting the coolness of the glass keep your body temperature lowered.

He leans back, sighing with happiness and you can’t help the small smile of happiness that spreads across your cheeks at his contentment. He’s infectious. “You know, I haven’t had this much fun in a while, thank you for coming.”

You let your head roll back as you look over to him. “Me neither. Thanks for being such a gracious host.”

His grins at your goofy head angle and weirdly moving eyebrows. Then he looks down and sobers up, his face losing some of the glow it already had. You sit up. Something’s coming, you can feel it.

You set your glass down and lean forward. “Did you ask him yet?” He doesn’t look at you, even when you stare at him for a minute before responding. You wish he would. You just need him to look so you can know what he’s feeling.

You hate putting him here. You hate that Bucky’s such a problem between you two.

You sigh and run your fingers through your hair, angling your body away from him. You don’t want him to feel like you’re pressuring him to accept the response you’re going to give him. “No. He’s out of town right now. He has been for a day or two.”

Sam narrows his eyes and fixes you with a hard stare, his tone ice compared to his smooth and gentle character. “He’s gone a lot for someone who loves to watch your every move.”

“Oh, he’s cheating. But then again it was never really official to begin with.” Sam’s eyes bug out of his head, but you know better than to take that at face value. He already knew. He’s just trying to act shocked for your sake.

“He what?” His voice sounds dumbstruck, but it’s still not enough to fool you.

“You don’t have to pretend to be surprised. I know you know.” You reached down to take another sip of your drink and let the liquid cool you down, slow down your brain so you could give clear answers that weren’t riddled with anger.

Sam sits for a moment watching you. He sighs, looks away, and then turns towards you. His jaw works and no words come out so you fill the silence.

“I’m just waiting. I think this will go away at some point. I’m just trying to be more interesting and exciting. I think that’s why I lost him the last time.” You fiddle with your pants to keep from facing Sam’s pointed stare.

“So dancing with me is just to be more interesting?” He sounds hurt and starts to turn away, but you catch him.

“No.” You make sure that’s firm and look directly at him as you say the word. He freezes in place and has to look away. “I’m dancing with you because that was genuinely something I was interested in doing. That had nothing with trying to make him jealous or trying to get him back, that was completely my own choosing.”

He had to understand, this whole thing had nothing to do with Bucky. It had everything to do with your choice and what you wanted to do. It wasn’t something you felt like you had to do to win Bucky back. You wanted this.

Sam doesn’t seem completely convinced. You scoot closer and place a delicate hand on his shoulder, squeezing it to get him to look at you. His eyes cut, but you’re determined to make him understand. To make him believe you. “Do you think I would still be here if I didn’t choose this. If this was my strategy, obviously it’s doing nothing to get him back and it would be in my best interest to leave, right? Why am I still going to classes and hanging with you if I didn’t want to be here?”

He nods and you breathe out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. You start to let your hand fall from his shoulder, but he catches it, pulling it closer to his chest and drawing your eyes to his sad and pleading gaze. “You deserve better.” He utters it softly and an emotional wall breaks at his words.

You feel tears start to form near your eyes. It’s been so long since you’ve heard someone tell you that you’re worth more than what you’re in. You have to look away, too caught in his eyes and the way that walls are starting to come down.

You take a breath and when you’re sure that there are no traces of sadness or pain, you gently draw your hand and it hurts. You don’t want to pull back, but you have to do the right thing. You have to do what’s right, even when it’s the most painful thing you could do.

“I think I should go,” You stand and Sam jumps up inhumanly fast before you, slightly blocking a straight shot to the door. You don’t feel trapped, more like he doesn’t want you to leave. “I don’t want you to feel any worse about the situation.”

“Wait.” He says in a soft whisper. He takes your hand again, slowly, curling your fingers together delicately. “Just one more dance.”

Sam doesn’t let your hand go as he clicks to another song, a sweet and simple guitar and vocal combination filling the room. He rests his hand on your hip, his warmth bleeding through the fabric of your shirt, tucks you close to him, and sets you to a sway.

You don’t perform any of the moves you’ve learned in class, no waltzes or spins, just you and him and a beat.

Eventually, from enough courage and fatigue catching up with you, you lean your head against his chest, wrapping your free arm around his torso and listening to his fast but steady heartbeat. You feel his head dip down to lean where your head lays, a hand splaying on your back to curl you into him. The tears almost well up again, but you just close your eyes and feel him, concentrating on his closeness and the caring way he responds to you.

Just like a song in my heart

A hand on your cheek pulls you back and your gaze flashes up to his, a deep fire simmering in your chest reflected in his eyes. You can feel the kiss coming this time and you know you’re not strong enough to resist it. You close your eyes and tense, waiting for his lips to meet yours.

But they never do.

Instead, a soft kiss presses against your temple and lingers.

When you open your eyes, your heart almost breaks from his open eyes and the adoration and sorrow in them. You hope he can see how sorry you are. Maybe in another place in a different time. It’s the only thing you can trust to do, silent communication. Anything else, and you’ll completely crumble.

Sam presses an invitation into your hand. Come, his eyes say and you smile and tuck it into your pocket for safekeeping.

The song ends bittersweetly and Sam walks you to the door, still holding your hand tightly in his. You stand on your tippy toes, the kiss still warm and pulsing from your forehead. He begins to lean down, knowing what’s coming and eager to make it easier for you. Just when you’re about to give him another kiss on the cheek, you get a text.

Bucky: It’s done. I broke up with her. You’re the one for me

Just like oil on my hands.

#wintershade #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #blue shade #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fanfiction #ms:blue shade #sam:blue shade #this is probably my favorite part #besides the next one #we love some good fluff and pure hearted interactions

20 notes · View notes

cherryrogers · 5 years

Text

addictive

(this is chapter one of my series bittersweet , but can be read as a one shot !!)

pairing: boxer!bucky x rogers!reader

warnings: making out, vague mentions of death, mostly fluff.

synopsis: While waiting for your brother to finish training at the boxing club, you unexpectedly find yourself intrigued by a blue-eyed boxer with an irresistible charm. However, there’s one issue - he’s your brother’s best friend.

a/n: this is a oneshot, but i was thinking about making it a series if people like it?? let me know in the replies or via ask,,, please enjoy :) — also i understand that the reader being steve’s sister implies that she is white, but i don’t want anyone to read this and feel like they can’t put themselves in the readers place. so to clarify; reader isn’t biologically related to steve, but they still think of each other as full siblings. ok, thank you !!

Glistening skin. Tensed, strong arms, bare for your eyes to linger on due to the undershirt that clung to his toned torso. Brows furrowed in concentration, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. Sweaty hair falling over his forehead, unable to be pushed back because of the bright red boxing gloves that enveloped his hands.

You didn’t know who he was, but boy, did you want to find out.

Snapping out of the stare you had on the man, you picked up your phone and let out an impatient sigh upon seeing the time.

6:42pm.

You’d texted your brother three times, asking if he was at all finished in the gym. There hadn’t been a reply, so you assumed that the answer was no. It was meant to be six thirty, the time that you were leaving the club. By the looks of it, that wasn’t happening. Pressing your back against the wall, you looked back up to observe the boxer, whose hard hits on the punching bag were still causing echoes throughout the almost empty room.

Continuously for the past forty minutes, you’d been shuffling uncomfortably in your seat on the wooden bench, situated in the training room that was rarely used by anyone at the club. Notebooks and completed reports were sprawled across the right side of the bench next to you, while your laptop sat alone on the left. While waiting for Steve to finish up training was a good way of forcing yourself to do college work, it eventually got rather boring.

Well, that was until a certain unknown boxer entered the room.

He didn’t realise your presence at first as he approached the punching bag hanging from the centre of the relatively small space, tightening the gloves on his hands quickly before beginning his training. After a short while, he caught you in the corner of his eye, occasionally flicking your gaze up to watch him move for a couple of seconds, before bringing your attention back to the paper in your lap and letting your pen dance across the sheet again.

Though he wasn’t exactly sure what you were doing there - a pretty girl sitting alone in the cold, dull room with a pile of work next to her - he was quite interested in finding out. There wasn’t an awkward silence in the room between the two of you; you were just a couple of strangers, enjoying the quiet.

Perhaps this guy knew Steve, and why he was taking so damn long to finish up. You thought, sitting up straight, eyeing the boxer.

Once you saw his punches start to slow down, you decided to call out to him. “Hey.”

The single word bounced off the walls, your voice unknowingly being music to the boxer’s ears. If you weren’t going to be the first one to speak, he would’ve eventually said something. He couldn’t just not talk to the girl that was secretly watching him box, right?

As he controlled his breathing, the boxer pulled off his large gloves, letting them fall to the ground before wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. His eyes landed on you, looking at you directly for the first time in the twenty minutes you’d been together in the room. “Hey.”

“My brother, he trains here most days. Steve Rogers, you know him?”

That made the boxer let out a raspy laugh. He walked slowly towards the bench you were perched on, stopping a few feet away from the right of you to pick up the water bottle he’d left there when he first came in. After taking a quick sip, he responded.

“Do I know him? The guy’s a pain in my neck.”

You glared playfully at him. “I may be his younger sister, but I won’t hesitate to slap you if you bad mouth him in front of me.”

He tilted his head in amusement at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Would I run less of a risk of you laying a hand on me if I told you my name?”

“That depends - what is it?”

“James Barnes.”

The name rang a bell. In fact, it rang a very loud bell.

“James Barnes as in... Bucky Barnes?”

“That’s me.”

You’d heard his name many times coming out of your brother’s mouth - Bucky this, Bucky that.

Originally, Steve wasn’t interested in boxing. Your mom used to try and encourage him to do sports in high school, but back then, the boy loved art. You’d find him in his room most of the time sitting at his desk in the corner, hunched over a drawing he’d been working on. It was endearing to you, really. Steve grew up to be quite a muscular guy, despite never taking part in sports as a kid. Yet, he was so delicate with his art, always gently pressing the point of a pencil onto his paper, never rushing any of his work.

That was before your mom passed away.

After that, Steve went through a really hard time. Of course, you were feeling the same, but Steve... had a lot of pent up frustration. He tried to keep doing art, desperately trying to drown out the weight of the loss, but it always just led to snapped pencils and crumpled pieces of work. Watching your brother slowly fall apart, while barely being able to keep yourself together? It was difficult, for sure. At that point, you suggested trying boxing. You did some research, finding out that boxing was an effective way of releasing emotions and allowing your negative feelings to be expressed healthily.

And he didn’t object to it. Steve was willing to try anything, anything to help him not feel so horrible all the time. So, he joined the local boxing club. That’s when he started becoming himself again, and that’s where he met Bucky. From what you’d heard from your brother, Bucky was of his best friends. Not that he was that close to anyone other than you, but this guy? He was different. You were glad he’d finally found a friend he felt so comfortable with. The boy had spent so long trying to take care of you that he never took a good amount of time to look after himself.

The man in front of you helped bring your brother back, and because of that, you had already taken a strong liking to him. You wouldn’t let him know that, however. Not yet.

“Wow, it’s nice to finally meet my brother’s boyfriend.” You teased. “The guy never shuts up about you.”

Bucky shook his head, twisting the cap back on the water bottle. Honestly? He had really nice hands—

“I could say the same for you. I mean, I love my sister and all, but Steve really thinks the world of you.”

The statement made heat rush to your cheeks. Steve was four years older than you, which meant he felt like he had the right to treat you like a kid. After your mom died, it sort of hit him how quickly things can change and fall to pieces, and he soon felt like he had to protect the only family he had left - you. As a teenager, it was a lot more frustrating. Steve used to feel like he had to watch your every move, question every guy you were ever involved with, make sure you weren’t out too late on the weekends. And since he started boxing, he’d gotten a lot more buff, meaning he could easily intimidate any guy that you brought back home. It lead to a lot of arguments, but as you got older, you realised he only cared so much because he loved you.

While he was still protective now, he knew that you were an adult that was fully capable of making your own decisions. It was mostly aggravating as a sixteen year old, but as an adult, it sort of melted your heart. Not a lot of people had brothers that would give them the universe if they could, so you whole-heartedly appreciated Steve, even in his big-brother mode.

“You think so?”

“Mhm.” He hummed. “Never mentioned how gorgeous you are, though. Must’ve missed that out.”

Now, you weren’t expecting your brother’s best friend to flirt with you upon just meeting you. Were you exactly objecting to it, though? Well...

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, biting back a smile. “Funny, he never told me how much of a charmer you are.”

No, you weren’t objecting. Wait, why weren’t you objecting? This wasn’t... right. But then again, in all honesty... you’d never seen such a beauty of a man.

His lips curled into a smile, and for a couple of moments, you both rested your gazes on each other. He was still glowing from the intensity of his workout, one hand resting on his hip while the other clasped around his plastic bottle. Shorts stopping a few inches about his knees, leaving a little up to the imagination. You could stay like this for the rest of the night, taking in his appearance. Your brother really failed to mention that Bucky Barnes was a full-course meal.

“(Y/N), is it?” He spoke up, his voice quieter than before.

The smile you were attempting to hide managed to creep onto your lips. “That’s me.” You imitated his phrase from before.

Bucky’s eyes glanced up to the clock on the wall, which read 6:49pm.

“Wait here, gorgeous. I’ll be back in five.”

The pet name caused fireworks to erupt in your stomach, and you hoped to god that your cheeks weren’t as flushed as you imagined them to be. Normally, guys couldn’t have you flustered so easily. But James Barnes? The man already had you weak at the knees. All you could respond with was a nod, watching as he winked and headed towards the door of the room leading to the showers.

At that moment, you were glad Steve was taking his time at the gym. If he could see you now, biting your lip and eyeing up his best friend, you could guess that he wouldn’t be too happy. But he didn’t have to know, did he?

While you waited for Bucky to return, you placed all of your college work back into your bag and enclosed your laptop in its case. Your mind couldn’t help but drift back to the man, who was currently showering in the room next to you. The thought alone caused goosebumps to rise on your skin - what a sight that would be.

Within five minutes, like he said, Bucky had made his way back into the room. His brown locks were still damp from the water, but he now wore a white t-shirt and dark denim jeans. The pants hugged his thighs, accentuating how toned they were. A duffle bag was thrown over his shoulder, and he eyed you up and down as he approached you again.

“So, you’re waiting for Steve?” He asked.

“Yeah, he’s my ride home. Tell me, does he always take his precious time in that gym?”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Uh huh, he doesn’t like to leave until every muscle in his body is practically burning. But, maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

You quirked your brow questioningly. “Why’s that?”

He shrugged innocently. “Means we have some time to kill.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Hopefully, he was feeling the same amount of sexual chemistry as you were, otherwise, this was a little awkward.

This was the only time you’d ever waited for Steve at the club, and you probably wouldn’t have any reason to again for a while - you’ll most likely never see Bucky again after this, right? It couldn’t hurt to have a bit of fun.

“You know, I think I left my shampoo in the showers.” He exhaled, holding back a smile as he extended a hand out to you. “Come with me to get it, and we’ll find somethin’ to do until Steve’s finished?”

Grabbing his hand, you pulled yourself up from the bench, smoothing out the fabric of your skirt with an evident smirk on your lips. “Alright - lead the way, James.”

* * *

You weren’t exactly sure what you expected to happen when Bucky took you into the locker room, but when you closed the door behind you and looked up at him with lust-filled eyes, you weren’t complaining that he eventually had you backed against the tiled wall, his chest only inches from yours.

Both of his hands were on placed in either side of your head against the tiles, not wanting to touch your body without you giving him the okay.

“You know, when I imagined meeting Steve’s little sister for the first time, this wasn’t how I pictured it.”

“What, you didn’t imagine pinning her against the wall of the locker room?” You grinned, trailing your right hand up and down his chest lightly.

Bucky chuckled, slowly bring his right hand to your face, running the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the warmth against your skin. “Well, when I decided I wanted to talk to the pretty girl who was watching me train, I didn’t think that girl was gonna be (Y/N) Rogers.”

“So, do you do this with all the girls you find roaming the gym by themselves?”

Shaking his head, he dipped so that his lips hovered next to the skin on your neck, his breath fanning over you causing your heart rate to pick up.

“No, I don’t. You’re the only one that’s caught my eye, babydoll; honest.”

“Steve won’t find out about this, right?” You almost felt bad about what you were about to do. Not that you were going to sleep with your brother’s best friend in a locker room, that wasn’t the plan, but even just making out with the guy caused a pang of guilt in your chest.

“Find out about what?” Bucky asked sarcastically. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Yet.” You emphasised, making him let out a breathy laugh. “I honestly don’t know who he’d try to kill first; me or you.”

The man lifted his gaze to meet yours. “I won’t tell if your won’t, Rogers.”

When you didn’t respond, he lowered his lips back to where they were previously.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Bucky mumbled, waiting for you to nod - which you did gladly - before placing his lips on your neck, soft kisses being trailed from the crook of your neck to the skin just under your ear.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, encouraging him to keep going, which he happily did. A quiet whimper escaped your lips as he nibbled on the delicate skin, surely leaving a mark which you’d definitely be coating in concealer the next day.

Carefully along your jaw, on the corner of your mouth, he left lingering kisses until his lips were only a few centimetres from yours. Bucky didn’t move for some time, scanning his eyes over your curled lashes, then the curve of your nose, the indentations of your cheekbones, your gloss-tinted lips that looked even more kissable as the light vaguely reflected off them.

Steve Rogers’ sister was nothing like he thought she’d be, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He had to admit, you were beautiful. No wonder Steve had never brought you to the club before - perhaps he knew you’d capture Bucky’s attention faster than the boxer could throw a punch.

It was so wrong. Looking at his best friend’s sister and wanting to touch you all over, hear you moan his name. He’d only met you ten minutes prior, but he didn’t think of you as just another girl he wanted to make out with. You had the same lovable charm about you as Steve that made it easy to be attracted to you, along with a purity that unknowingly to you, made him want you more.

He didn’t have to think twice as he crashed his lips onto yours, moving his other hand from wall to hook under your thigh, caressing the exposed skin as you pushed your body closer to his, running your tongue over his bottom lip.

You’d made out with other guys before, usually while you were tipsy at college parties, and even back in high school when you used to make out with them on your doorstep until Steve inevitably chased them away before they could step foot in your house.

But this, with Bucky, it wasn’t the same. He was a little older, not as sloppy, seemed to know what he was doing - how to make you feel good. His hands weren’t grabbing at you like a sex-obsessed frat boy, but savouring the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. The gentle yet passionate way in which he touched you was so much more pleasurable than the rushed, rough makeouts you’d experienced one too many times.

Pulling away slightly, Bucky smirked at your swollen lips, still tasting your cherry lipgloss on his tongue. His hand ran up and down your side, craving to feel the skin that was hidden by your thin shirt. “If we don’t stop now, I’m gonna end up ripping this blouse clean off you.”

You smiled, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Somehow, I don’t think that my brother would be impressed by that - he should be done soon.”

“Hm, maybe next time, then.” He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling cheekily.

“Next time?” You raised your brows. “How’d you figure there’s gonna be a next time?”

“You telling me you don’t wanna do that again, gorgeous?”

Sighing, you tried your utmost to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You definitely wanted to do that again. One hundred percent. However, for obvious reasons, you were hesitant to tell him that.

Bucky took a step back, allowing you to push yourself off the wall and readjust your clothing. After doing so, you let your eyes fall to the floor, the adrenaline from the makeout session you’d just had fading away. Noticing your nerves, Bucky reached out and placed a finger under your chin, tilting it up so he could meet your gaze.

“Steve won’t find out about this, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I just feel kinda bad,” You admitted. “I don’t like hiding things from him.”

Bucky was silent for a few moments, before his hand dropped from your face to your hand, wrapping it with his as he led you out of the locker room, back into the training room.

“Wait...” He suddenly said, holding up his finger, indicating for you to hold on while he paced back into the locker room. Fifteen seconds later, Bucky reappeared in the doorway of the room, a bottle of shampoo now in his right hand. You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So, the ‘leaving your shampoo in the shower’ story wasn’t just a ploy to get me into the locker room?”

Bucky shrugged, flipping the bottle in his hand. “I actually did need to go back and get it, but I also definitely had the intention of pinning you against the wall while we were in there.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you made your way back over to the bench that only fifteen minutes ago, you were admiring the unnamed boxer from. How time flies.

After tucking your laptop case back into your bag, you threw it over your shoulder and turned to face Bucky, who also looked ready to head off.

He looked as if he was about to say something, but the opening of the training room door behind the two of you caused your head to snap in the direction of it. Your brother emerged in the doorway, surprise written on his face as his eyes glanced between his sister and his best friend. You were worried that he could just tell that something happened between the two of you, but the smile on his lips proved that wasn’t true.

“(Y/N), I’ve been lookin’ around for you. You didn’t tell me you were gonna wait in here.” Steve approached you, tugging his own duffle bag tighter on his shoulder.

Plastering an innocent smile on your face, you replied as nonchalantly as possible. “Yeah, I’ve just been finishing off some assignments, and I met the guy that you never shut up about.”

Bucky chuckled as you gestured towards him, Steve stepping closer to him to pat his shoulder. “Well, I hope the guy didn’t spend any time distracting you. Bucky has a match on Friday - he has to do all the training he can before the big day.”

“Really?” You quirked your brow, suppressing a scoff as you turned to look at Bucky, who was desperately attempting to stop a smirk from creeping onto his lips. You wondered if making out in the locker room with a girl was part of his pre-match regime... “Well, good luck on Friday, James.”

Steve let out a laugh. “God, I can’t remember the last time I heard someone call you James. You can call him Bucky, (Y/N).”

“Right, sorry.” You nodded your head towards him, correcting yourself. “Good luck on Friday, Bucky.”

“Thanks, not that I’ll need it, though.” He smiled smugly, casting Steve to hit him with the back of his hand on his chest.

“Alright, punk, don’t get ahead of yourself.” The blond rolled his eyes, before taking a step back and motioning towards the door. “Well, we should probably get goin’, (Y/N). See you tomorrow, Buck?”

“I’ll be here, training for the match I’m gonna win.”

“You trying to show off in front of my sister?” Steve joked, and your eyes widened slightly. It was just a joke, calm down.

Bucky grinned back. “Just stating a fact, Steve.”

With the shake of his head, Steve headed out of the door. You sent the boxer behind you a knowing smile, before beginning to follow your brother out. However, a hand around your wrist prevented you from doing so.

“You can keep calling me James, you know. I don’t mind.” Bucky assured you as you spun around to face him. Usually, he preferred being called by his childhood nickname - but there was something endearing about the way you said his name, something that he wanted to hear more often. “You can call me anything you want, really, as long as I can eventually call you mine.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that fell from your lips at his words. “If you think making out with you once is gonna have me falling at your feet from now on, you might wanna get off your high horse, James.”

“I don’t mean right now, but I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.” His eyes told you that he was being genuine.

“I don’t either, but-”

“Come to the match on Friday.” Bucky suddenly interrupted you, before sighing and running a hand through his hair. “If you’re not doing anything already, come watch me fight.”

You furrowed your brows hesitantly. “You don’t think Steve will get suspicious?”

“It’s only a match, (Y/N). He won’t suspect anything. Plus, he usually brings Peggy to these things - he’ll be focused on her the whole time.”

“So he won’t notice you dragging me to the locker room to make out again?”

Bucky scoffed, pulling you closer to him. “Actually, I was thinking I could take you out after I win. Contrary to what just happened in the locker room, I’m really quite the gentlemen.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. But that’s only if you win, so I would get too excited yet.”

“Not if I win, gorgeous; when I win.”

“Alright,” You smirked, feeling your phone buzz in your pocket. You didn’t check it, however, knowing it would only be Steve telling you to hurry up. “If you’re sure that you’re gonna win, then I guess it’s a date.”

“Great, I’ll look forward to it.” A satisfied expression formed on his face.

Without thinking, you reached forward and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, letting your lips linger before pulling away. You would’ve went for his lips, but you thought you’d save that for Friday, when he won. “I hope I won’t be getting all dolled up for nothing, James.”

His cheeks tinted slightly pink at the affectionate action, causing his infectious smile to only grow wider. “You won’t be, I promise. Six thirty sharp, babydoll. I’ll look for you in the crowd.”

“I’ll be there.” You winked, finally turning around and making your way out of the room, and eventually out of the building.

The realisation of what you’d agreed to hit you in the form of an icy wind as you stepped outside of the club. In the past thirty minutes, you’d made out with your brother’s best friend, agreed to go on a date with him, and hid both of those things from the person that you trust the most.

You weren’t sure where things were going to end up with Bucky. If the makeout was just a one off, and the date didn’t make you fall for him, then whatever, right? You’d never have to tell Steve about it, and you could move on from the whole thing.

However, kissing Bucky for the first time? Not something you were going to forget any time soon. You already missed his touch, his lips molding with yours... you could only imagine how amazing things would been if you hadn’t stopped there. Christ, what if you were already falling for him? His charm made it pretty hard not to, but that wasn’t you. You never fell for guys so easily, especially after thirty minutes of meeting them, so why was Bucky having this effect on you? Every part of him seemed to be addictive; his smile, his touch, his eyes, his everything. After exiting out of the training room, exiting out of his presence, you were only left wanting more.

As you climbed into the passenger seat of the car, Steve sent you a grin before pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to ramble about the gym session he had. And as much as you wanted to listen, your focus was simply unable to remain on him.

Truthfully, you just couldn’t get his best friend off your mind.

#bucky barnes #bucky #boxer!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #boxer!bucky x reader

353 notes · View notes

nobody-wants-ice-cream · 4 years

Text

Everything Wrong With The Umbrella Academy. Episode 3, Extra Ordinary.

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

Run Boy Run

Usual disclaimer: This is all in good fun! I wanted to do a really nitpicky re-watch of the series and found some really cool and interesting things I didn’t notice before. This is meant to have a Cinema Sins-esque tone. However, I did take off a lot more sins than Cinema Sins would have because I do genuinely like the series and the people that made it possible. So all of the good things got one sin off and all the bad things got one sin added. This is a really long post, so grab some popcorn. If there’s anything that I missed, feel free to add it!

Vanya was clearly about to sell her violin. She looked dejected and sad and was detached from her violin case. This is in character for Vanya on her pills, who must have decided that she wasn’t good enough at one point. Sin for putting Vanya through trauma. +1

The Umbrella Academy comics are priced weirdly. The one on the right is $25.00 and the one on the left is $15.00. What makes the one on the right more expensive? It even says on the cover that the one on the right was supposed to be $0.50. So why the inflation? Taking a closer look, all six heroes are on the cover, so it’s not that either of them are pre-Five leaving and therefore more expensive because Five is on both of them. Though, the one on the right does have a picture of Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Ben, and Reginald under where it says that the comic is 50 cents. To make a long rant short, the comics that Vanya looks at in the pawn shop window are confusing. +1

However, Gabriel Ba’s art. -1

The strange lack of technology means that Vanya’s book was written on a typewriter. +1

Vanya needed 6 pencils to write her book with. These are maybe supposed to symbolize Vanya’s 6 siblings, in which case, interesting detail, but still. Six pencils. As opposed to one pencil and a pencil sharpener? Why all the tools Vanya? +1

The six pencils (with two pointer up) symbolize Vanya’s six siblings, two of which turned around since the siblings they are supposed to represent (Five and Ben) are no longer around. -1

Vanya’s dying houseplant. Water that! +1

Vanya collects another houseplant and it looks relatively healthy. -1

The messy table garbage still has the same plate and same crumpled papers/napkins in the same position. Either Vanya was super lazy, or the set designer/director was. +1

Vanya replaced the dying houseplant with the fresh one. Poor houseplant. I will mourn you. +1

“Lost Woman” has some really on the nose lyrics. Playing the phrase “lonely woman” before Vanya starts narrating her book is ridiculously on the nose. +1

However, “Lost Woman” happens to be one of my favorite tracks from the series. -1

Luther should be part ape in this scene, (as it takes place five years ago, not seven), but he looks completely normal. This is a massive continuity error so I’m adding two sins. +2

“Starved for attention” is the line Vanya narrates over Allison reading it. On. The. Nose. +1

Diego is so pissed off at Vanya that he tapes her likeness to a punching bag and punches it. You know, like a rational adult. +1

Klaus is wearing birkenstocks and burgundy capris. +1

Also, Ben and Klaus work together to read a book. -1

But I have to ask, why did the rehab let Klaus read during group therapy. And shush his dead brother’s ghost. +1

Ben is pissed off by the line “and haunted by what might have been.” On the nose. +1

Five reads the harsh line “we all wanted to be loved by a man incapable of giving love” while next to Dolores, who is also incapable of giving love because she is a mannequin. Also, Five reads this book, full of vitriol and hate, as the last connection he has to his siblings, at age thirteen. +2

Reginald doesn’t read the book that his daughter wrote. As usual, Reggie is a dick to Vanya. +1

Vanya’s reaction to being late to rehearsal is so relatable. I swear I have done this a thousand times as a musician. -1

The Netflix captions (yes I watch with captions) say “Chamber music playing”. They have a conductor. +1

The conductor has the character of all conductors. Dick. +1

Vanya isn’t vibrating when the rest of the orchestra is. Late or not, you still need to follow the concertmaster, Vanya. +1

The rainy weather matching Vanya’s stormy mood. Foreshadowing. -1

Badass umbrella title screen. -1

However, why are all those people stopping in the street? It’s raining, get to where you’re going! +1

Allison and Luther watch the tape where Reggie dies over and over. This is weird, even if they are trying to figure out if Grace killed him. Who would want to watch someone die over and over? Not even I want to replay Reggie dying, and I genuinely hate him. +1

Luther says that Reggie thought people were out to get him. On the first watch, the audience can chalk this up to Reggie being a paranoid old man, however on the second watch we know that the Commission exists and that Reggie is probably not from this world. So either of those groups could have been out to get him. But who? This remains a sin until they explain it. +1

Training posters in the kitchen. The kitchen! Really, Reggie. +1

There’s this weird caterpillar thing with a face behind Grace in this scene. What the hell is that? +1

There was also a radio in the kitchen, which implies that Reggie either let them listen to tunes, or had training cassettes the same way he had training records. Either way, what the hell, Reggie? +1

There is a ridiculous amount of light sources in this one room. +1

Grace has a cactus full of toothpicks or skewers by the stove. Cute art project, whichever kid but likely Diego based on his fascination with pointy things. -1

The “your father was a great man” speech. Poor Grace. +1

Jordan Clare Robbins is an excellent actress. -1

Smiley face made of two eggs and a strip of bacon. -1

Diego doesn’t understand the chain of custody regarding evidence. Patch says that if he touches a piece of evidence, she can’t use it in her case. How many murderers have walked free because of Diego? +1

Hazel and Cha Cha use bullets from 1963. Dallas foreshadowing? Remains a sin until season two confirms the Dallas plot. +1

These bullets were found on the random local hires Five killed at Griddy’s. Why does the Commission use bullets from the early 60’s? Isn’t that a big red flag to their time organization? +1

Patch indulges Diego the Vigilante by asking for his help. You’re a police officer, you got this, Patch. Also, this foreshadows her death when she does things his way and gets killed for it. +1

Diego tells Patch to investigate Five. Oh, the irony. +1

“I do give a shit” is such a weird line to try to portray as romantic with the music, tone, and lighting, show. +1

Beeman, unprofessionally, brings up the fact that Patch and Diego used to date while at a crime scene. +1

Vanya washes her hands for two seconds and then goes to talk to Helen. Almost like that was the real reason why she was in there. +1

Vanya attempts to compliment Helen Cho, who is overall, not interested. Is this Vanya’s repressed way of flirting? Pick a better time.+1

Seriously, what is with Vanya and starting conversations at the absolute worst time. It’s like she wants to get insulted. +1

No way in hell would one professional musician to another be this bitchy, Helen Cho. +1

Helen straight up calls Vanya talentless. What an awful thing to say! +1

She softens, as if she just gave Vanya legitimate career advice, but she didn’t. She really just insulted the time and effort Vanya put into her instrument. As a musician, I can confirm that what Helen just said is the equivalent of saying something really, really nasty. Tumblr hate anons have nothing on what Helen just said. +3

Vanya takes a pill after being called talentless. Pill foreshadowing. -1

Cha Cha uses a curling iron to cauterise the wound Five gave her from the shovel. Where did the curling iron come from? +1

“The entire fate of the universe” oh Hazel. Thanks for the irony. +1

How did no one in the history of this shady motel notice the hidden panel? You would think at least one person attempting to have shower sex or someone cleaning or someone doing matinence should have noticed that, right? +1

Five stitches up his wound by himself despite the fact that multiple people are in the house that are capable. He’s going to pull a few of those based on the angle. Also, Five didn’t bother to clean the blood off his arm, so who knows if he bothered to sterilize the needle or his hands or anything. +1

The wound on Cha Cha and the wound on Five are eerily similar. However, what makes them interesting is that Cha Cha decided to cauterize where Five decided to stitch. Both are decent methods, but Cha Cha’s way is going to leave severe permanent scarring and Five’s way might heal. This could foreshadow the way they treat the end of the world. Cha Cha wants to end it, Five wants to fix it. Maybe not Cha Cha herself, but she does represent the Commission and their ideals. She is a stickler for their rules and uses her last moments to try to call them and get rescued. Point is. This is an English teacher moment full of symbolism, and I respect the show for this choice. -1

Billy the Choo Choo bandages. First of all, Five can never get away from the childishness of his current form. Second of all, Reggie let Five have “Billy the Choo Choo” licenced bandages??? +1

Or, Five chose to buy/steal these bandages. +1

Five puts a clean, white uniform shirt over blood that he still hasn’t cleaned up. At this point, that has got to be uncomfortably sticky. +1

Five didn’t bother to clean his wound until morning. “I guess I’ll go to sleep and bleed”???+1

Or, it took Five several hours to get the supplies. Bullshit. No way in hell did Reggie not have those supplies lying around. +1

Five still chooses to wear the full uniform ensemble even though he could at the very least get rid of the tie. +1

The teleporting kid gets the fire escape bedroom. It’s like Reggie was begging Five to sneak out of the house. +1

Dumpster Bagel: Do Not Eat. +1

“I’m done funding your drug habit” you never did in the first place? You didn’t pay him at all for that magnificent acting?? Unless Five did this before he left the mansion, in which case, Five funded Klaus’s drug habit. +1

Justin Min looks so incredibly creepy sitting on the dumpster. He has such a blank expression. Also, when did he move from the fire escape? +1

“I love you. Even if you can’t love yourself!” is a great line. -1

When Five drives away in the stolen van, he passes an absolutely bewildered guy. How the hell did Five function as an assassin? He can’t do subtlety. This contradicts “I know how to do everything”. +1

Was Aidan Gallagher actually driving in this scene? Because it kind of looks like the way a beginner would drive. This also contradicts “I know how to do everything” +1

There’s a lady passing Meritech that actually chose to wear a baby pink fedora. M’costume. +1

Five left his wife stuck in a bag and didn’t remember her. +1

He also left a bottle of some clear liquor on top of her. +1

“This is the place that it was made. Or will be made.” The delivery on this line was kinda bad. +1

Allison used her power on Claire. Claire was three years old. No matter which way you slice it, this is the shittiest thing Allison has ever done. She’s working on it, but the fact that it happened deserves a sin. +1

Emmy Raver-Lampman is a kick ass actress. -1

Allison has the most warranted case of impostor syndrome ever. Sin off because this is the one of the few scenes where two characters actually talk about their emotions. -1

Luther and Allison had that conversation sitting ridiculously far apart. +1

Leonard’s shop is called “Imperial Woodwares” Apparently, he delivers as well. How did Leonard get the business and woodworking skills necessary for running a relatively successful shop while in prison? +1

Leonard somehow knows that Vanya’s orchestra (which rehearses and performs in the Icarus Theatre) is far from Bricktown. At this point, he shouldn’t know that unless that is the only orchestra in the entire city. There is no way that that is the only orchestra in the entire city. +1

Leonard took up wood carving in prison. Is that allowed? +1

If a guy you just met makes a wood carving in your likeness you should run. Run like hell. Get a restraining order. That is so creepy. Obvious villain is obvious. +1

Also, I once read a fanfic (The Moon Laughs by Lady_Origami on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/17959847/chapters/42417584) where a character is kidnaped by Leonard and tortured in this backroom where he’s showing Vanya the creepy statue. I can see where the inspiration came from. This back room has “place to keep the person I kidnaped and torture them” vibes.+1

Leonard stayed up all night to make the creepy woodcarving. He then insists that Vanya take it. And Vanya doesn’t recognize the creepy vibes. +1

And she does take it! +1

Leonard says that he made the carving for her and that she inspired him. Obvious manipulation is obvious. +1

Leonard is a dick to Vanya by using Allison’s successful career. +1

Leonard doesn’t like the Beatles. +1

Why did Allison go to Bricktown to find Vanya when that is nowhere near the theatre or Vanya’s apartment? Was she just wandering around hoping to find Vanya? +1

Allison is the Queen of actually talking out her thoughts and feelings. She just apologized to Vanya and explained why she was so angry in the last episode. Well done. I respect that. -1

Allison and Vanya sisterly bonding. -1

Five sees children playing and then immediately starts having an apocalypse flashback. This shows that Five lost his childhood as soon as he time traveled to the apocalypse. I’m sad now. +1

Aidan Gallagher plays this really well. -1

If you look closely, you can see Five/Aidan Gallagher laughing at Luther/Tom Hopper because he can’t fit in the van. I can’t tell if Five is laughing at Luther or if Aidan is laughing at Tom. Either way, that slaps. -1

However, corpsing. +1

No one has written Klaus/Dolores fanfic yet. They really hit it off in the van, y’all. +1

Five throws an empty can at Klaus for messing with Dolores. +1

Klaus’s expression after Five says “does it matter, it’s Klaus.” Sinning because Five is a dick to Klaus. +1

“Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to wax my ass with chocolate pudding. It was so painful.” I love this line. God bless Robert Sheehan. -1

Aidan Gallagher contemplates this line then starts corpsing. I don’t blame him. I’ve been trying to figure out how that would be possible too. -1

How can you use chocolate pudding to wax any hair? +1

Aidan Gallagher laughs at this line, meaning Five found this funny, but didn’t want to give Klaus the satisfaction of laughing. +1

Luther and Five are dicks to Klaus. They kicked him out of the van! Assholes. +1

Luther is sort of trying to connect with Five, but he fails miserably because it comes out really condescending. +1

“I don’t think that I’m better than you, Number One. I know I am.” Hubris much, Five? +1

Luther is already sick of Five’s “I’m better than you, I’ve done things you couldn’t comprehend” schtick and Five has only been back for three days. And we make fun of Luther’s moon thing. We get it, Five, you’re a badass. Actions speak louder than words, old man. +1

On the side of the Variety Store Klaus steals from is a billboard for Clever Crisp Cereal, which is the cereal that Reggie invented in the comics. I guess he did that here too. -1

Also, Klaus steals from the Variety Store and drops everything while running away. Why did you steal so much shit if you knew you were going to drop it all Klaus? +1

Ben’s reaction to this buffoonery must have been hilarious. Sinning the show for not showing us that. +1

“Now I’m starting to wonder if that was the wisest decision.” What? Kicking Klaus out of the van or Klaus deciding to rob the store? Because both were pretty stupid. +1

Does Agnes own Griddy’s? +1

Agnes just gave some valuable baking tips when it comes to doughnuts. Thanks, Agnes. -1

Agnes and Hazel are really cute together. -1

The Hazel and Agnes theme is my favorite instrumental piece from the whole show. -1

There are still bullet holes in the walls. Attention to detail! -1

Hazel and Cha Cha pretend to be social workers or private detectives concerned for Five’s well being. Oh, the irony. +1

“I mean who lets a kid get a tattoo” Reginald Hargreeves. That’s who. +12

Agnes is indignant about Five’s tattoo, citing his age. This whole episode has a ridiculous amount of irony. +1

Agnes draws the umbrella tattoo a bit too perfectly for someone who only saw it once and at the wrong angle. +1

Diego straight up threatens Luther at knifepoint. +1

This family meeting is a complete shitshow. +1

The monocle is likely to become a s2 plotpoint because Diego put it in a place where anyone could take it. If you’ve read the comics, you know why I think that’s important, but I won’t spoil it for anyone who hasn’t. Either way, that was a dumb way to dispose of the monocle, Diego. +1

Diego is a dick to Vanya until she agrees with him. +1

They are legitimately talking about killing their mother. What the fuck. +1

Klaus references the van when only Luther, Five, and presumably Ben know about it. This makes no sense. +1

Votes to kill Mom: Luther, Allison, Ben +3

Klaus hisses at Ben and no one thinks this is weird. +1

Grace definitely heard Luther and Allison voting to kill her. After she made them breakfast too! Luther and Allison are dicks in this scene. (And so is Ben but Grace couldn’t hear him.) +2

Grace tries to prove her worth by making cookies. Fuck Luther, Allison, and Ben for voting to turn her off. +3

Diego and Vanya actually have a civil conversation. Well done for doing the bare minimum, Diego? -1

Vanya’s pills suggest that she was friendlier with Diego at some point. +1

Pogo for sure saw that whole thing and he saw Vanya take the pills. Dr. Complicit. +1

Reginald is a total soccer mom in Diego’s flashback scenes. This amuses me. -1

However, Reginald raised six child soldiers as “crime deterrents” so +6

Luther is casually working out in his bedroom while the mission alarm is going off. +1

“Where’s my knives” was a phrase Diego practiced. Also, Diego would never lose his knives. +1

Vanya’s room is a fucking closet. +1

“Thank you, Mother” Dante Albidone is a treasure. -1

“Boys will be boys” this is the only time that phrase is acceptable. When you’re putting out a fire your son caused for no reason. -1

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” -1

Reginald interrupts this. +2

Diego’s flashbacks were very unorganized, which makes sense. This is probably several years worth of mission flashbacks. -1

“It’s okay if you hated him” “I would understand if you wanted to hurt him”-2

David Castaneda and Jordan Claire Robbins nailed this scene. Two kick ass actors being incredible. -1

Did Five really sit there all day with no breaks? +1

Five is arguing with Dolores and losing. She is a manifestation of his subconscious. And she is winning this argument. +1

Aidan Gallagher looked directly into the camera. We made eye contact. It was weird. +1

Lance straight up sells those illegal prosthetics where anyone could see it. Lance is an idiot. +1

Agnes’s drawing led Hazel and Cha Cha to the Academy. +1

Cha Cha left the window down in the car. +1

Would that air thing actually work? If it wouldn’t then sin on Reggie for getting cheap locks. If it would, sin on me for not getting better locks sooner. +1

Hazel and Cha Cha don’t have their masks on. What if somebody saw them? +1

The portrait of Five comes back to bite the Academy in the ass. Why haven’t they gotten rid of it? Five has been back for three days. +1

Klaus has black nail polish on his toes. -1

No way in hell is Klaus able to have his eyes open in a soapy bathtub. +1

The ghosts are creepy. Sin because Klaus is traumatized. +1

“We’re Through” by the Hollies is one of my favorite songs to play on guitar. It’s a decent coffee shop piece and I like playing it live. Thank you show, for helping me discover it. -1

Klaus is taking a bath with the door open. +1

Luther has been eating his Wheaties, Cha Cha. If you call experimental ape drugs, Wheaties. +1

Luther describing sunrise on the moon. I like this bit of writing. -1

Where were Hazel and Cha Cha keeping their guns and masks? Special pockets? +1

Diego is the only person who could possibly bring knives to a gun fight and win. Diego is a badass. -1

Hazel and Cha Cha continue to have stormtrooper aim. There are so many times when either could have shot Diego, but magically miss because Diego has plot armor. +1

Reginald’s portrait gets shot though. Right in some lethal areas. This amuses me. -1

Grace is so out of it she doesn’t notice heavy gunfire. Reggie, you suck. +1

“Who the hell are these guys?”/”Who the hell are these people?” +1

Diego, Luther and Allison just saved your ass. Less arguing, more fighting the crazy people. +1

Reggie keeps convenient weapons everywhere like they’re lamps. +1

Vanya is still in the Academy hours after the meeting, and she doesn’t think to hide during all this crazy gunfire and fighting. Sigh. +1

Seriously, it’s like she’s trying to get killed. +1

But she doesn’t because she has plot armor. +1

“Hey, asshole” goes back to Five’s “hey, assholes” from episode one. So did Luther learn that from Five, did Five learn that from Luther, or did Reggie decide that that was an acceptable phrase to teach his children? I lowkey want to write all three in a crackfic. Nice. -1

Vanya probably has a concussion. Otherwise, she would have attempted to run, right? Please tell me she isn’t that stupid. +1

You know that b99 meme where shit is going down and Gina is just chilling with her headphones. Yeah. That. Klaus, get some situational awareness, please. Also, what are these magic noise cancelling headphones that can block out the sound of gunfire and where can I buy them? +1

Allison, I understand why you don’t want to rumor anyone, but your life is literally in danger. I think you can forgive yourself if you rumor Hazel and Cha Cha into not killing you and your family. +1

“You wanna rumor this psycho?” “I don’t need to because this bitch just pissed me off” These are both horrible lines. I can’t tell if it’s because of the writers or because of the actors, but both of these lines are genuinely terrible. +1

“We just want the boy”. Nice comics reference, Cha Cha. -1

Diego doesn’t attempt to fight Cha Cha and give Allison the upper hand. He just sort of stands there. What the hell, Diego? +1

And when he does fight her, he doesn’t use any long range weapons. Diego, this is your house. I’m assuming you know where the knife drawer is? +1

Ben attempts to give Klaus privacy. In this situation. That’s a sin. I would risk seeing my brother’s naked body if it meant he wouldn’t be shot. Just sayin’, Ben. Get all up in his face. Put your ghost hands through his head. Get his attention! +1

Luther and Hazel can go hand to hand as equals and the show never addresses why. +1

Vanya really is that stupid. There are plenty of doors. And the fire escape from Five’s room. Vanya, run!+1

Luther had plenty of time to get out of the way of the chandaller. Why didn’t he shove his siblings and follow one of them? The motion would have made sense. +1

This ape reveal makes no sense. It would have worked in episode one, but it’s weird in episode 3. Why didn’t they reveal this to the audience earlier? +1

The dinosaur footprint sound effect. +1

Why didn’t Vanya and Allison hear Grace humming? Also, why didn’t anyone hear Hazel and Cha Cha breaking in. It was established in episode one that there is no soundproofing. +1

Grace is cross stitching the moon exploding. Foreshadowing. -1

She is pulling the needle through her own hand though. +1

Who gave Grace that nice bracelet? That’s so adorable. -1

Diego killed his own mother. +1

However, it is a mercy kill. Who knows what Luther or Allison would have done to her if they had found out how screwed up Grace was. I’m really conflicted about this scene. On one hand, fridging, on the other, it makes sense. Therefore, it’s a wash. -1

What is this magic cloth that Allison gives Vanya to mop up the blood and where can I get it? Seriously, it cleans up blood ridiculously well. To the point where it doesn’t look like Vanya’s been injured. +1

Diego takes out his anger/sadness/frustration on Vanya. Also, Diego would be excellent at cinema sins. Vanya could have been killed and she was stupid to stay, but there is no reason to raise your voice at her like that, Diego. +1

“She is a liability”. And you are an asshole. Diego just said that line to Allison as if Vanya wasn’t even there. As if she was just some inanimate burden. Fuck Diego for this line. +1

Allison doesn’t even attempt to defend Vanya. Even if Diego made a good point, there is no reason to let him get away with that kind of emotional abuse. +1

The show kind of addresses Luther’s body image issues, but doesn’t let him talk about it. +1

When did Vanya get Leonard’s address? +1

“I didn’t know where else to go”. Home perhaps? To your apartment? And not into the arms of creepy Leonard? +1

Hazel and Cha Cha didn’t discuss what to do if shit went sideways. No wonder Five was better than them. +1

When would Hazel have kidnaped Klaus? We don’t see it happen so we should just assume that Klaus appeared there magically? +1

Hazel and Cha Cha have FRC 891 as a licence plate. Neverending Chaos. Google FRC 891 Umbrella Academy. -1

Overall Review:

I forgot just how important episode three really is. Here we learn just how harmful Vanya’s book was, that Vanya is in an orchestra, and more about Leonard. This episode carves out who Vanya is as a character before Leonard sinks his claws into her. We can see the effects of the pills on her ability to connect with others and her ability to play the violin.

We also get a lot from the other characters. The Claire reveal is a big one for Allison. So is the ape reveal for Luther, even if it should have happened two episodes ago.

As for acting shout outs, Emmy Raver-Lampman and Jordan Claire Robbins killed it in this episode. I can’t wait to see more of Emmy in s2 and I really hope that Jordan will return.

There was some excellent use of irony in this episode. Like a lot of irony. What killed me was the Griddy’s scene. Hazel and Cha Cha pretending to care about Five’s well being so they can murder him and Agnes being indignant about someone as young as Five getting a tattoo is just amazing.

As for plot things, this was really a Vanya-centric episode. It establishes a lot of things about her, which makes the twist at the end even more obvious. This is not my first, second, or even third rewatch, so I know what’s coming, but how did I not see it before? When I first watched it I thought that Five was the main character and that Vanya was a self-insert. Looking back, I can see that Five and Vanya had pretty equal backstory and screen time given to them. You could make the argument that they are the main characters. You could even argue that they’re the primary protagonist and antagonist, but to be frank, that discussion should be saved for episode 10.

Total: 133

Sentence: Eating a dumpster bagel.

#The Umbrella Academy #all in good fun #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #Grace Hargreeves #leonard peabody #hazel and cha cha

55 notes · View notes

the-delta-42 · 4 years

Text

Rule of Precinct One Vol. 2

Rules of Precinct One Vol. 2

1. Detective Wilde has been authorized for use with all firearm ballistics, don’t ask how, we’re trying to figure that out ourselves.

2. Detective Wilde has been banned from use of all non-firearm weapons; we are running out of tail splints.

3. Detective Wilde is now required to wear a tail guard on duty, we really don’t need to go to hospital to get the damned thing reattached.

4. Do not underestimate Detective Wilde's ability to harm his own tail, seriously, don’t.

5. Detective Wilde is to stop stealing balls from the sports cupboard, we can’t get his wife to retrieve the balls every time.

6. Detective Wilde and Detective Hopps-Wilde are no longer allowed to take the nightshift together, I’m sure you can figure out why.

7. Whoever took the donuts from Clawhauser, well done, he’s supposed to be on a diet.

8. Do not make Box or Funny jokes with Detective Hopps-Wilde, we don’t need to find out that a Rabbit can actually go savage.

9. No stating Detective Wilde’s full name, there is a reason he dropped the John.

10. No asking why Detective Wilde’s father calls him Junior, at all.

11. Never, EVER suggest, imply, or otherwise insinuate that Officer Wilde is capable, or indeed, talented, at cheating at cards, in front of Officer Hoops. This will not end well.

12. Do not attempt to play cards with Officer Wilde. This includes Black Jack, Three Card Monty, and All forms of Poker

13. Amendment to the above: Cheat, Go Fish, and Snap are not excluded from this, on account of not traditionally being betting games. You may think that will prevent you from losing money. This will not prevent you from losing money.

14. A reminder to all Officers, Officers Schneider and Wilde are not to be in the same room together especially if they're both armed.

15. Whenever Detective Wilde is entering the station don't yell out "The British are coming!" Officer Fangmeyer is still recovering from broken ribs.

16. Reminder to all officers, trying to scare Detective’s Wilde and Hopps is generally a bad idea.

17. Reminder to all Officers, posting photos of new equipment on Furbook is now banned.

18. Don't EVER put a muzzle on Detective Wilde's office desk. Whoever did it, I hope you’re happy that he has to now spend a week in therapy. Seriously, we don’t need one of our best Detectives going into shock.

19. Do not, under any circumstance, show Detective Hopps anything Creepypasta related. The last time she saw Jeff the Kitty, she refused to let go of Detective Wilde until he passed out.

20. No one is allowed to use the Ion Cannon in storage. We don’t know what it does or why it’s there.

21. To all officers, stop trying to setup Chief Bogo with another mammal. Last time we had to rescue him from a cross dressing tiger and his friends.

22. Clawhauser is to stop playing matchmaker. It did well with Hopps and Wilde but not so good with others. See previous rule for proof.

23. Detective Wilde is not allowed to pick the movies on Movie Friday anymore. Many are still in trauma counselling.

24. Detective Wilde is not allowed to sing Happy, it caused every Officers in the station to break out dancing.

25. No one is allowed to play the Police Story Movie Series in the station, except on Movie Friday.

26. No one is to play the British Grenadiers within Detective Wilde's hearing distance, he may be an excellent singer, but it does get annoying.

27. All Officer patrolling the slums must wear a stab proof vest. We don’t need another incident where Detective Hopps-Wilde nearly became a Widow.

28. FOR THE LOVE OF ASLAN DON'T PLAY WITH Detective WILDE'S POISON CONTAINER FROM THE SAS.

29. Who played with Detective Wilde's EMP Grenades again? All the Police Cruiser's electronics are fried.

30. All Narcotics Operations are to be jointly operated with the ZDEA, not go out and do an Anti-Drug War with the Cartel, Detective Wilde was spotted wearing Combat Gear with an M4 during one of the Raids.

31. No matter what, Detective Wilde is not to be disturb during his investigation unless it's important.

32. Stop telling the Rookies that Detective Wilde is James Bond.

33. Who gave Wilde military grade super glue?! He somehow glued his tail to the ceiling of the station and it took a long time to get him down!

34. We all know you like Guns N Rodents, Detective Hopps, but whenever you're entering the Rainforest District don't play "Welcome to the Jungle" through the sirens. Same goes for any officers.

35. If you have a backstage pass to a Gazelle concert, make sure to hide it from Chief Bogo and Clawhauser. Officers Delgato and Wolford were nearly trampled to death last time.

36. Only Detective Wilde is allowed to use the Ion Cannon, it seems that he knows what it does and how to handle it. He also has yet to shoot his tail off with it.

37. Reminder to all Officers, Detective Wilde is only allowed to use a Baton in non-lethal situations.

38. Even though Wilde is British doesn't mean he's a stereotype, even if he does like drinking tea.

39. No one is to bet a Schneider vs Wilde fight, Schneider involved the GSG9 and Wilde involved the SAS.

40. No trying arrest a badger because he "stepped on your tail" this means you, Wilde.

41. Whoever keeps putting up bunny/fox adoption papers, please stop. Detective Wilde and Detective Hopps-Wilde become unavailable for the rest of the day when this happens.

42. Reminder to all Officers to not allow any more male bunnies to be in sight of Detective Wilde or Detective Hopps. We don't need another flirting incident.

43. It is now banned to arrest the driver of the ice-cream truck and "confiscate" all of the truck's merchandise because he wouldn't stop. (We're looking at you Officers Fangmeyer, Wilde, and Schneider.)

44. Whoever put up pictures of Detective Hopps getting changed around the station, be aware that none of us will subdue him when Detective Wilde finds you; he WILL find you.

45. Do not even joke that there is someone named Shere Kahn here to see Wilde about his time in the secret service. Last time this happened Detective Wilde disappeared for two weeks and Detective Hopps-Wilde was crying her eyes out.

46. Detective Wilde is to take home all of his personal gear immediately. We can't keep replacing every computer and electronic device in the precinct every time someone uses an EMP grenade.

47. Detective Wilde is no longer allowed to bring personal equipment to work without permission. A Stinger missile launcher isn't police gear.

48. Detective Wilde is allowed to use the ion cannon. He somehow knows how to use it.

49. Do not ask Detective Wilde about his time in the secret service. Last time this happened Detective Wilde freaked out and disappeared for a week, you know I’m starting to see a pattern here.

50. To all Officers, stop baiting Clawhauser to doing your paperwork through the use of donuts and cereals. Be responsible for your own work and Clawhauser is on a diet!

51. No one is to ever label fox repellent as Genuine Zooisiana hot sauce EVER again, Hopps is still crying in my office and Wilde is still being treated for the blindness that was caused by it.

52. Remember kids, fire hot. Someone should probably make a note on that.

53. Attention officers, attention, remember to work the shaft. Wilde we know this was you.

54. If it wasn’t clear before it is now, By no means are Wilde and Hopps allowed in the copy room together and apparently I need a new secretary.

55. Do not use the mini-gun. Half of our officers are still in the hospital.

56. Do not prank Officer Hopps with anything ghost related. Wilde took an hour to literally drag her out of her home because she believed there was a ghost at the station.

57. Reminder to all officers, do not pull pranks that involve any hot sauce or Ghost Peppers. Some of our officers still have ice packs on their tongue.

58. Don't ask why Wilde has the British Flag and a London Metropolitan Police Bobby Helmet on his desk.

59. New Patrol Cars maybe bulletproof, but that doesn't mean it's a target for target practice.

60. All Officers must use the code 10-8 if you’re on duty.

61. All detectives must have their badges on the at all times, I really don’t want another incident where the Mayor mistook Detective Wilde for some shady business man.

62. I don't care how, but Detective Wilde is forever banned from using TASERS so stop giving him TASERS. We really don’t want another ‘king’ incident again do we?

63. Yes, Detective Wilde, we get that you are a Doctor Who fan, especially Sir John Hurt.

64. We don’t need the constant thing of The United Kingdom leaving the EU, Detective Wilde is still trying to deal with the other British Citizens here who have started to break out in riots. This is quite possibly the first time Detective Wilde has used any standard Police equipment properly.

65. Please do not mention Gazelle in front of either Detective Hopps-Wilde or Clawhauser, it took us three hours to get them both to shut up.

66. Officer Cody, there are no contingency orders that tell you to kill/subdue any of the Detectives on the force.

67. Alright, which one of you lot petitioned for Detective Wilde to be removed from the Force?

68. Please, who ever brought the little Vixen into the precinct, bring her again, she’s adorable.

69. Alright, who gave Wilde (Both of them) Coffee? They’ve locked themselves in their Office and frankly I believe that you can all here them from where you are.

70. Detective Wilde, please call your mother, this is the seventeenth time she’s called in at the front desk. PS. We now know your actual first name.

71. Please refrain from commenting that Detective Wilde acts like Conan from the Anime Detective Conan when he finally solves a case.

72. Who created a real Phantom Thief, who is based off Magic Kaito 1412?

73. Could someone please explain to Detective Hopps-Wilde what the previous rule is?

74. Reminder to all Officers, Detective Wilde is an Authorized Firearms Officer, and his Unmarked Squad Car is a moving armoury.

75. Kevlar Vests are now Standard issue and must worn at all times.

76. This a warning to all racists Officers, you are outnumbered 100 to 1 and Wilde has a Pranking/Torture arsenal.

77. Detective Wilde: you may be a detective now, but that does not give you an excuse to dress up like Furlock Holmes on the job. That bubble-blowing Meerkatz pipe is simply ridiculous.

78. To all feline officers of Precinct One: having roaring contests at the station is expressly forbidden.

79. Officer McHorn: from now on when your office door is jammed please wait for a locksmith instead of charging at it with your horn. According to the contractor that was a supporting wall you nearly destroyed.

80. To whoever pumped helium into the chief's office before he passed out the morning assignments, your commanding officer is not amused.

81. To whoever told Detective Hopps-Wilde about Detective Wilde's Playbunny magazines, he has sworn vengeance.

82. Just because the chief is a Buffalo that does not mean that he is angered by the colour red like a bull gets. The fact that Bogo automatically gets aggravated at the sight of Detective Wilde (Wilde's fur being red and all) is purely a coincidence.

83. The hoses on armoured police vehicles are not to be used as showers. I don't care how clean you may get or how funny it is to see bald patches on Detective Wilde's fur we cannot afford the clean-up from flooding the garage... for the fifth time this month

84. When Detective Wilde warns you about someone conning you, listen to him. The ZPD budget is still recovering after the whole fake Gazelle autograph incident.

85. To the practical joker who subscribed Chief Bogo to the Gazelle Gossip magazine, the joke is on you: he's already a subscriber

86. No one is to mention the word "neuter" in the building. It took the whole day to find the male felines, lupines, and the vulpine.

87. NO VIXENS IN SIGHT OF DETECTIVE HOPPS-WILDE OR DETECTIVE WILDE!

88. Do NOT ask Judy's parents if they had vasectomy yet.

89. NEVER underestimate Detective Hopps-Wilde. We have now learned she can beat anybody to a pulp in a sparring match, including Chief Bogo.

90. Reminder to all officers: just because Wilde is a designated firearms officer, doesn’t mean he's a sniper. Also, don't request for any weapons for the armoury, we can't have a Barrett m107 .50 or an M240, we also can't have AT4's.

91. Detective Wilde is only allowed to sing at Karaoke Saturdays.

92. Please don't disturb Detective Wilde, both of them, when they are explaining their deductions.

93. Reminder to all Racists Officers Detective Wilde is armed for a reason.

94. The new Helicopters are for police work not Romantic Flights.

95. Detective Wilde is not Sherlock Holmes.

96. All officer in Precinct 1 must sign a pact to eat Clawhauser's donut everyday at least once. He was supposed to be 'weight reduced' to normal level of fitness.

97. To any officer out there who using police superbike as patrol vehicle, DO NOT give Detective Wilde and Detective Hopps YOUR SUPERBIKE KEY.

98. To any officer who think bringing Clawhauser's family to 'Bring Your Family To Work' day, DON'T. We can't have Clawhauser being scolded for being 'fat'. It reduces Clawhauser's work productivity. And there's a reason why he doesn't live with his family again.

99. - All officer must not pushes Chief Bogo to give you case. When there is no case, there is no case. I'm watching you, Hopps.

100. For the last time, who brings laser to Precinct 1? The productivity of Precinct 1 dropped to zero just because all officer chased after it.

101. ALRIGHT, WHO BROUGHT THE LASER HERE?

102. To all officers, Officer Moon Moon is to be supervised by at least one officer at all times. He's a new recruit and a walking hazard when left unsupervised. Just ask Grizzoli in the infirmary.

103. No more bringing of pets in the precinct, especially spiders. The giant huntsman spider Officer Fangton brought is still on the loose and a third of the force won't come in until it has been caught.

104. Detective Wilde, do not take advantage of Officer Moon Moon's gullibility. The poor guy lost his first pay check when you tricked him into playing cards with you.

105. If anyone, only Detective Wilde is allowed to refer to Detective Hopps-Wilde as "cute". Anyone else risks her fury.

106. WHY ARE THERE ZOMBIES IN THE PRECINCT?!

107. Whoever dressed up as those zombies, your commanding officer is not pleased.

108. NEVER say that you hate pop-star Gazelle in front of Clawhauser. Even though he is not physically fit, he is still a cheetah.

109. To whoever put the nude photo of gazelle in chief’s paperwork you have parking duty for a month. And I'm looking at you Wilde.

110. No one is to mention Detective Wilde’s ex-wife. It was hard enough to explain to Detective Hopps-Wilde.

111. Detective Garfield we don't care how much of a jerk you think your partner Lieut. Nirmal is, so stop spamming HR with requests to get him transferred to Abu Dhabi.

112. While we are on the subject of Detective Garfield, no one's to tell him when the cafeteria is serving Italian, last time he found out he barricade himself in there and by the time we broke down the door half the food was gone.

113. No Detective Wilde, you did not learn everything you need to know in kindergarten.

114. Notice to the motor pool, for now on all porcupine officers are on permanent motorcycle duty as we can afford to keep fixing car seats every time they come back from patrol.

115. Will you all stop harassing officer Bellwether, he had nothing to do with his insane cousin’s anti-predator plot.

116. Okay apparently you idiots disregarded the last note and now officer Bellwether got himself transferred to Los Santos, claiming he'd rather be shot than harass, so I hope you all enjoy the mandatory week long species tolerance seminar.

117. Don't let Detective Hopps-Wilde drink any form of energy drink (besides coffee). She already has plenty of energy, and doesn't need more.

118. Officer Mchorn is injured at the moment and Officer Moon Moon needs a new partner. Again, don't leave Moon Moon unsupervised.

119. To the one dressed as a Ninja, Detective Wilde and the rest of the Authorized Firearms Unit are hunting you.

120. Will someone catch that Phantom Thief!

121. Reminder to all Officers, if a Military tank got stolen like San Francisco, please do not ask Wilde for Anti-Tank Weapons.

122. Please do not use the Riot Armor to be RoboCop.

123. No, we will not add attack helicopters to our arsenal.

124. Whoever keeps playing those Hyena Gomez CDs please stop, her shrieking gives half the station a headache.

125. To whoever rigged up the riot tank speakers to play 'let the bodies hit the floor' whenever the water cannon is fired, the Chief is willing to overlook this offense if you help setup his home theatre system.

126. If some whacked job manages to steal a tank like that time in San Dingo, don't go asking detective wilde for a rocket launcher, besides that's what the secondary tank full of industrial adhesive attached to the riot tanks water cannon is for.

127. Lieut. Nokiayama the precincts head corner would like to remind everyone that just because he's a raccoon dog, he doesn't have mystical powers like in Japanese mythology, so please stop trying to grab his crotch thinking it will bring you good luck, he has his ancestor’s katana and he knows how to use it.

128. Do not ask Detective Wilde about his family. He does not want talk about. He had a break down last week. If this rule is broken you will be punished by the chief.

129. To all officers, firearms are supposed to be used in emergency situations only, not in trying to kill the giant huntsman spider Officer Fangton lost. It was last seen in the armoury.

130. Do not tempt Officer Schneider with beer, Detective Wilde with tea, and Hopps with carrots. They will find out where you live.

#Zootopia #zootropolis #wildehopps #ZPD #precinct one #Nick Wilde #judy hopps #chief bogo #benjamin clawhauser #delta writes #rules of precinct one

14 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 4 years

Text

Why Evil is the Only TV Procedural Worth Watching

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Evil article contains spoilers. You can read a spoiler-free review of the show here.

Who knows what evils lie at the heart of CBS’s Evil? Shadows know. We consulted a book of shadows (not the one Leland Townsend (Michael Emerson) skims, too many spoilers there) to cut into the left ventricle of the darkness feeding the network’s supernatural series, now in production for season 2. The blood of the police procedural pumps through the veins of the paranormal investigation show, but Evil transcends the statutes of those limitations. Occasionally by papal decree. The series is intelligent, filled with symbolism, and its main character, who is training to be a priest, drops acid on a semi-regular basis. And he’s not microdosing. Look at those baggies.

Evil doesn’t debunk demonic possession, which is the main thrust of the team’s investigations. It never treats it as campy. The series believes demons are real, even giving the audience a breakdown of the six different forms possession take. But it deliciously stops short of giving full commitment. The show also explores how to parse out personal responsibility when there’s a supernatural being to blame. In episode 7, “Vatican 3,” we learn “the court does not acknowledge demonic possession” in determining guilt or innocence. The series further muddies the waters when the crew has to take a hard look at a murder committed by someone who wasn’t possessed, such as when the parents of what they believed is a demonically possessed child kill him. The series further turns the screw because the kid they killed to save their other children was born evil. It was literally in his genes.

Evil shares DNA with The X-Files, and David Acosta, played with charisma and empathy by Mike Colter (Luke Cage), is the new show’s Fox “Spooky” Mulder. He is looking for answers beyond the veil, which has the same letters as evil, and he is putting the pieces together like a hidden map of old Manhattan. There’s a truth out there and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to understand it. He’s not in it to solve any crimes against venal sins. He is looking for deeper meaning, and this alone puts the series above most procedurals. David’s got a bit of the scientist Dodge from original The Planet of the Apes film in his cinematic character. One of the first astronauts to delve so deep into the outer reaches of space, “He’d walk naked into a live volcano if he thought he could learn something no other man knew.” David is the same. He was a foreign correspondent in war-ravaged Afghanistan who got to know the soldiers whose stories he reported. Truth and knowledge are the most noble of callings, and ultimately come before his religious calling.

While the basic premise of a spiritual believer teamed with a dissenting psychologist is procedural trope, Evil is out to debunk the law of its diminishing returns. First, the show teams David with not just one skeptical voice, but two. Katja Herbers’ Dr. Kristen Bouchard plays the same role Agent Dana Scully played to Mulder, and with a similar arsenal. She comes from a different perspective, though. Bouchard does indeed believe in miracles, but thinks they all have scientific explanations. She is confident the only reason something might defy natural principles is because science hasn’t been applied properly yet. Scully, who wore a cross and took her faith seriously, accepted miracles on faith. David and Kristen rarely come to the same conclusion.

Ben Shakir, played by Aasif Mandvi, brings common knowledge, and shades his skepticism with cynicism. The former Daily Show correspondent takes on the weight of all three Lone Gunmen but with more constructive skills. Before joining the paranormal team, he was a carpenter, just like Jesus. Ben knows how things work, and when everyday mechanisms like sinks or faulty wiring are the root cause of supernatural phenomena, he can turn the screws, and spot the mold. Ben, “the Magnificent,” as Kristen’s children call him, is also tech savvy, and quite capable of hacking hackers.

Evil also throws things at Ben which he can’t easily spackle over with even the best of tests. Try as he may, and he tries, he can’t explain the light of an angel in the frame of a surveillance video. There is no evidence of doctoring, even at the most expert levels. “The world is weird,” David passes off as dating advice when Ben asks about potential girlfriend Vanessa (Nicole Shalhoub), who wants to know she if she should detach from her dead sister before committing to a new relationship. Vanessa thinks she is “tethered” to her phantom sister by the right arm.

Supernatural science is bizarre, creators Robert and Michelle King (The Good Wife, Braindead) believe. They push the show to diagnose causes the external evidence of exorcisms and stigmata, the bleeding wounds which correspond to the wounds on Christ’s hands when he was nailed to the cross. Because stigmatics display their wounds as they are portrayed artistically, rather than how the Romans historically would have done the crucifixion, it proves it comes from a psychological source. Internal belief causes the phenomena, not external spiritual forces. Evil explains that, allowing ample room for skepticism, belief, and even poetic reasons for spiritual incursions. David quotes Shakespeare to enunciate his faith. The concept of free will doesn’t come up in most procedurals. Neither does the way sociopolitical issues are turned into supernatural questions and tied to the origins of evil.

Evil is almost a character in Evil, and has relatable entry points. Real demons first get to Kristen’s four young daughters through an augmented reality videogame. A little girl who never takes off her Halloween mask almost gets the sisters to bury one alive. We don’t know how much of the characters’ perceptions is the result of a demon character’s influence on them. Each character is slowly being tempted by the dark side.

Kristen joined the team as a rational thinker but has had to accommodate uncomfortable ideas and adjust her comfort zone accordingly. In her usual line of work, she’s analyzed the criminally insane, but the show has pushed her into close contact with people who are evil in the Biblical sense. She is being pushed incrementally by forces in and out of her control. Her own mother Sheryl (Christine Lahti) sides with a manipulative competitor, Leland, over her daughter, and he’s made direct threats. The first season can be seen as Kristen’s slow corruption. The second season may see Kirsten apply her skills to her own situation, which will delve further into the dichotomy between the spiritual and pragmatic.

This is because Kristen may have already fallen. The final episode includes a telltale blood stain, which she wills Ben to unsee. On any procedural this is considered a clue, but here on Evil, the evidence actually points further than a mere homicide. It is the first sign that a main character has gone to the dark side. It is confirmed when the touch of a crucifix blisters her hand. There’s no such thing as an original sin and Kristen has been flirting with temptation long before this.

Kristen is a married nonpracticing Catholic who lost her faith. She’s sexually attracted to David, a man on his way to becoming a priest. When this subject was broached on the classic 1970s cop comedy Barney Miller, a prostitute who was supposed to be a young priest’s last fling before he entered a monastery said “I break laws, not commandments.” It feels like Kristen reminds herself of this every time the two of them are on screen alone together. Their sexual chemistry is that palpable. Yes, this is very similar to the long-gesticulating romance between Mulder and Scully, but he was no priest and she wasn’t married. Not only is Kristen married, but she’s got half a brood of daughters. Annoying things, really, but at least one of them has an excuse. Another reason Evil is the only procedural worth watching is because everyone on it just might be cursed. That’s not found in the manuals.

Evil towers over contemporary procedurals in how it’s going dark. Most procedurals chase a morally compromised arc, but Evil treats it like an encroaching corruption. Kristen, who is sworn to uphold the law, may have gone more than rogue vigilante. Besides the crucifix-burning season closing, David has visions of a goat demon waiting for Kristen with a scythe. She’d been tormented by her own personal demon throughout the season but when the George, the demon-like creature who visits Kristen during sleep paralysis, falls on the knife, it changes nothing. He is just one of many demons. One of them set up practice and is taking office hours with Leland.

The Demon Therapist is an all-male Goat of Mendes, or Baphomet. The show gets into how different biblical angels look from how they’re perceived artistically and by the contemporary faithful, but won’t present a faithful representation of Baphomet. It’s as patriarchal as Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. Evil keeps it vague whether the goat demon is real or in Leland’s head. The Demon therapist appears in Kristen’s dreams as well. Lexis (Maddy Crocco) disabled the house alarm for the visiting devil therapist when he invites her to “the next level,” making it seem she is at least susceptible to underworldly influence. The kids are irritating, but they are a bargaining chip and their father, Adam, put them up for grabs when they chanted together offering an exchange of souls. Kristen was co-opted into evil through protective motherly instinct. She doesn’t see the mark of the devil as a badge of honor. When Kristen puts the cross in her palm, she doesn’t look like she expected it as much as feared it.

While the network show will never have the freedoms afforded cable series, the acting is top notch all around. Series like HBO’s Perry Mason or even Showtime’s reimagined second incarnation of Penny Dreadful: City of Angels, provide a wider range of emotion and carnality. But Evil gives us muted, for the most part believable performances, very often underplayed. As are the special effects and use of technology as a narrative device. Too many procedurals treat high tech surveillance and other investigative tools like they are all-seeing eyes which can count nostril hairs. It has become normalized. Evil doesn’t waste intellectual space with unreasonable gadgets. The tools Ben or Leland use to their computerized ends are believable. At one point, Kristen asks Ben to record a cell phone conversation which is already halfway over. She is surprised he can’t with all his special skills.

The series incorporates real world horrors into mundane life. Even some of the most normal looking settings carry a sense of unease, to underscore the show’s thesis that the supernatural is natural but never quite normalized. Many of the scenes are shot vertically, drawing the viewers’ eyes upward and inferring something is always going on above. The series’ many wide-angle shots put a distance between characters even in close-ups.

The show isn’t afraid to wear its influences on its sleeves, and on several occasions has a lot of fun with it. For Dr. Kurt Boggs’ (Kurt Fuller) arrival at an exorcism, they recreated Father Merrin’s introductory scene in the horror classic The Exorcist, shot for shot, even getting an exact replica of the light post and the same make car, though different year, from the film. They gave nods to Rosemary’s Baby, Misery, Cabin in the Woods, and Children of the Corn. The climbing ax which Kirsten grabs on her way out to do damage on the serial killer Orson looks like it has teeth. As did the walking stick Lon Chaney’s Larry Talbot carried in The Wolfman. The demon George looks like Freddy Krueger’s good-looking cousin. The tonality of the show is reminiscent of Charles Laughton’s immeasurably influential Night of the Hunter.

The main reason Evil shines above most procedurals is because it is scary, and those scares have been building slowly and deliberately. Commonplace settings feel off, and the world around is filled with conspiracies and coverup. The Vatican asks the team to determine whether a woman who knows the hidden history of the church is a false prophet. The fertility clinic Kristen and her husband Andy used when conceiving Lexis corrupts fetuses with satanic insemination. A witty but innocuous internet meme, Puddy’s Christmas song, is a hummably foreboding earworm. Anything can go evil on Evil.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Evil season 2 is currently in production. Read more about that here.

The post Why Evil is the Only TV Procedural Worth Watching appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3fRxopa

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

3 notes · View notes

221bshrlocked · 5 years

Text

He Who Desires (3)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2533

Warnings: mention of violence. some graphic description of blood? slight flirting. an annoyed Bucky

A/N: The next part will definitely be the last part. I hope yall enjoyed this little extra mini series as much as I did writing it. I’m trying to get back to the other mini series I have so I’m, again, just getting out all the shitty writing so I could reserve the good writing for the other fics/ideas.

Previous Part | Next Part

Slowly, your eyes managed to flutter open enough to look at your surroundings, your mind already attempting to process the last thing you remembered before you blacked out.

Club. Bucky. Ryan.

Fucking Ryan.

“Oh good you’re awake.” You heard someone speak from behind you, heavy steps making their way around until the man himself stood in front of you. Before you could ask anything, a heavy palm sounded across your cheek and you felt pain shoot through your neck from how hard your head fell.

“Tsk tsk tsk, not a word out of you. Wait till the boss herself hears who we have. It’ll be Christmas soon babe, you just gotta wait here.” Ryan massaged the palm of his hand before walking out of the room, leaving you cold and confused with two guards stationed at the door.

Meanwhile, Bucky was already on his way to the warehouse, refusing to wait until Steve and Natasha came to him. Sending them the GPS signal, he raced through the dark freeway up the mountain. If only he hadn’t looked away for that one second. He looked down for the hundredth time and tried to think of anything but them torturing you, most likely because of a stupid mistake he committed.

Your mind ran a million miles a minute, trying to figure out where you and Bucky went wrong. Surely you didn’t make a mistake and there was no way in hell Bucky did either. Suddenly, the metal doors opened and in walked Ryan along with another woman behind him.

“I didn’t believe it when they told me. You were always the best of us, never one to make a mistake, never one to miss a detail, not one to be easily distracted. Then again, I guess you can get distracted after all, considering you’re in this mess because of him. If only he kept his hands to himself, this little baby wouldn’t have been visible.” You shivered when the cool edge of the knife touched your shoulder and your blood began to boil.

“Should’ve known you were behind this.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, you should’ve. I thought you’d figured it out by now but this little piggy got dumber with time.” You screamed and threw your head back when you felt the knife dig into your shoulder where your brand used to be. You felt her hands pull on your hair until your neck was bent at an ungodly angle.

“This could’ve been yours as well. But you just had to go and grow a conscience.”

“At least one of us grew a brain and saw how fucked up they treated us. Come on Delilah, you couldn’t possibly think it was always going to be sunshine and daisies with them did you?” You growled when she dug the knife deeper into your skin, already feeling numbness take over your entire left side.

“Baby, I could have given you sunshine and daisies. But you chose them over me.”

“No, that’s where you’re wrong. I chose myself over you.” You spat at her face and didn’t give her the benefit of knowing how much pain you were in. You were about to say something when you heard the distant sound of gunshots ring through the warehouse, smiling because you already knew who it was.

But the relief was taken away instantly when you felt your shoulder dislocated by two hands, screaming and crying when the pain just kept getting worse. Delilah took hold of your chair and dragged you to the wall, telling her men to stand in front of her before holding a knife to your throat. Tears stained your shirt and you slowly started to lose consciousness, snapping towards the metal doors when you heard a loud thud coming after another.

Within seconds, the doors were slammed across the wall, and you smiled when you saw Bucky furiously step through the pile of dead bodies.

“You better watch your next moves Sergeant or this little piggy is dead meat.”

“You’re going to wish you thought this through sweetheart.” Before Bucky finished that sentence, seven shots broke through the surrounding windows, leaving Bucky, Delilah and yourself the only ones alive.

You could feel her hands shaking and you wished you were awake enough to see what transpired next. As soon as she opened her mouth, Bucky didn’t think twice, throwing his knife your way and watching as it hit Delilah’s throat. He was in front of you within seconds, already trying to get your attention so you didn’t faint.

“Y/N, doll, you with me?” Bucky wiped the hair away from you face to take a better look at you, his heart shattering when he saw how faint you looked

“Y-yeah Buck.”

“This is gonna hurt love but I gotta do it to control the bleeding. On three okay?”

“Ahuhaa.” You whispered and watched as he frantically held your shoulder.

“One-” You bite your shirt when he pushed your shoulder back in its place, crying in pain when he wrapped his belt around your entire upper body to stop the bleeding.

“You said on three you asshole,” you said through sobs and Bucky was torn between laughing at your attempt at humor and watching as you cried while he did nothing to help you. Shifting his weight, he picked you up and apologized again when you asked him to slow down. He kept on talking to you and shook you a bit when you took a longer time to respond. But it was so much harder to stay awake and at some point, before you knew it, your head was falling back, and the last thing you heard were Bucky’s desperate attempts to keep you conscious as he ran to the quinjet.

~~~~~

Shifting around, you brought your hand to your head and groaned when you felt pain shoot through your back to your upper arm, slowly opening your eyes and looking down to see what was happening.

“Hey, hey doll,” you looked up and saw Bucky standing from his chair, leaning down and cupping your cheek. You smiled up at him and leaned into his metal hand, finding comfort in the cool sensation against your skin.

“Hi Buck, w-what happened?” Your voice was hoarse and you noticed the way Bucky frowned at your weak state.

“You passed out on me Y/N, nearly gave me a fuckin’ heart attack when you did. They uhhh, they took you into surgery. Nothing too dangerous, they just needed to make sure the bones were aligned and back in place before stitching your muscles.” Bucky sat near you, making sure you were comfortable before grabbing your hand and kissing it.

“Doll, I’m sorry but I gotta ask, what happened? D-did they do anything?”

“Besides nearly tearing my shoulder out, no. You came just in time as a matter of fact.” You tried to laugh but Bucky was in no way okay with this.

“Who was she?”

“Oh man, I- before my time at Shield, I was part of this...underground clan for lack of a better word. It wasn’t too different from The Red Room except they had a different approach to training and making sure you were recognized everywhere.” You pointed to your shoulder and saw Bucky’s expression change when he saw the scar.

“Delilah and I were friends, or I thought we were, until I realized she was the reason I was constantly chosen for the rather intense training sessions, like a guinea pig, to illustrate what was asked of us. She loved those sessions, especially when I was the one being tested. She’s capable of so much more Buck and that’s why I cannot be thankful enough for you coming at that time.” Bucky was attentive to everything you said and hated that you went through something like this but he knew he needed to continue asking, unable to bring Steve in to question you.

“Doll, what was this clan called?” “Buck, I can’t. I just can’t. If you knew what I did, what I was a part of...I- I can’t have you looking away from me.” Tears ran down your cheeks and you looked up when you saw Bucky wiping them away aggressively before making you look at him.

“Baby listen to me. There is nothing on this earth that will make me feel any differently about you. You know what I’ve done and yet you’re here. With me. Just trust me darlin’, please. That’s all I’m asking you to do, trust me.”

“Besa Avlonya, they were originally Romanian but by the time I joined, they were mostly Albanian.” You looked down and saw Bucky sending a quick text to Steve before standing up. Thinking he was leaving, your heart rate elevated and Bucky turned to the EKG machine, immediately sitting down and taking your hand in his.

“I ain’t goin nowhere Y/N alright. I know how much you hate hospitals and I’m gettin’ you outta here. You said you trust me right?” He waited until you nodded before getting up to call the nurse.

Thirty minutes later, you were slowly standing up to get dressed. You were about to raise your arm when Bucky asked you to wait.

“Doll, let me call a nurse to help you out.”

“No. Just no.” You made sure he knew this wasn’t to be discussed but he continued to ask anyway.

“Please babe it’s okay, she’ll just-”

“You do it then.”

Whatever Bucky thought you were going to say, that was definitely not it.

“Y/N I can’t, it’s not-”

“You’ve already seen me in lingerie Barnes you might as well. What’s the difference?” You raised an eyebrow at his obvious distress.

“I ain’t takin’ advantage of you darlin’.”

“You aren’t taking advantage if I don’t mind you seeing me like this.” Your voice didn’t waver when you said it, wanting to make Bucky understand that you meant it. Without exchanging any more words, Bucky slowly walked towards you, asking silently if he could undo your gown and you rolled your eyes at him before turning around.

Gently, you felt his fingers undoing the back of the gown before it dropped to the floor and you felt him move away to grab your shirt. When he turned around, Bucky’s breath caught in his throat because he didn’t expect you to turn around as well. His jaw clenched and you could tell he was annoyed by your obvious comfort with him, finding it very hard to keep his eyes on your face and not on your bare torso.

Speaking of hard, he suddenly felt his jeans getting tighter by the second and he had you to thank for that.

“God fucking damn it Y/N.” Bucky whispered before approaching you and shoving your shirt down your neck before taking his time with your arm. Before you could say anything, Bucky was kneeling down and grabbing your leg to put through your jeans, taking his time so you wouldn’t trip or feel anything in your shoulder. When you were fully dressed, Bucky stood in your space, breathing down on you before grabbing your neck and pulling you to his lips. You wound your arm around him, moaning in annoyance when he pushed away almost immediately.

“As much as I want this, I know how quickly things will escalate with you.” Bucky grabbed your things before opening the door for you.

“Maybe I want things to escalate.”

“Don’t fuckin’ tempt me Y/N.”

“Is that a suggestion or an order Sergeant?” As soon as you called him by his rank, you heard the metal plates shift, smiling to yourself because you could tell he was both angry and turned on.

“Fucking hell.” Bucky whispered before walking ahead, leaving you amused and happy at how things turned out.

By the time you got back to the compound, you had managed to get on Bucky’s last nerve. Between briefing and dinner, Bucky was, in every sense of the word, done with your teasing and he left without bothering to say good night. You had spoken to Steve and Natasha and told them what happened at the warehouse, trying to give them any information that could potentially help them in finding out more about the secret clan. When you finished and saw Bucky had already left, you decided to go to Bucky’s room, hoping he wouldn’t turn you away because you teased him a little too much.

Reluctantly standing at his door, you were about to knock when it suddenly opened, revealing a still-angry Bucky.

“What do you want?” Bucky practically growled at you and you realized you may have taken it a bit far. When he saw you standing there, slightly afraid of opening your mouth, he held the door open to let you in. You walked in and looked around, noticing that this was probably the first time you’ve ever seen his place.

“I- ummm, didn’t mean to. No that’s not what I want to say. I’m...god this is stupid, I shouldn’t have come.” You tried to walk towards the door but found Bucky blocking it, watching as he slowly shut it before approaching you.

“What do you want Y/N?” Bucky asked again, this time more patiently than earlier.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” You avoided looking at him, shaking your head when you watched him walk away to his bedroom. He stopped at the end of the hallway before motioning for you.

“Well, aren’t you comin’ doll?” Bucky smiled when he saw your expression shift to a rather giddy one, watching as you skidded towards him before walking in to his room. Taking your shoes and socks off, you looked around and realized you didn’t change into your pajamas.

“Here, take this. “ Bucky handed you one of his shirts and saw you just look at it.

“J-James, I still can’t wear it but I don’t want to ask you because then you’ll think that I’m bothering you again and that’s the last thing I want to do considering what you’ve done for me in the last twenty-four hours but I honest to god can’t put this on by myself and I just-”

“Jesus Christ you talk too much.” Bucky shook his head before throwing his shirt on the bed, kneeling down to take each leg out of your pants before shutting his eyes and helping you out of your shirt. He quickly put his own shirt through your arms before walking to the other end of the room to shut off the lights.

You sat down and watched his every move, your heart almost skipping a beat when he took his shirt off and laid down on the other side of the mattress.

“I run hot Y/N and I’d rather neither of us wake up sweating.” He heard your little snort and narrowed his eyes at you before whispering something in Russian, motioning for you to lay do so he could cover the two of you.

“Let me know if I hurt you!” Bucky whispered before scooting closer to you and laying his arm across your body.

“Sweet dreams doll.”

“Night James.”

#bucky fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky/reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #undercover au #bucky undercover au #bucky undercover

173 notes · View notes

honeylikewords · 5 years

Note

Agent Whiskey being interested in a woman, how would he express it?

Aw, that’s so darn cute! Here I go!

(Note: I don’t really like the... uncomfortable, shall we say, and fully unnecessary sexual tone of the Kingsman series as a whole, so I’ve decided to remove it and tone down any overt or excessive attributes the weird writing sort of forced into Whiskey’s character. This is just my take on Jack, and one I prefer, since It’s My Cowboy And I Get To Pick The Canon!)

Jack Daniels is so many wonderful things; intelligent but grounded, confident but well-mannered, steadfast and true. And while his capable, efficient attitude and myriad talents make him a standout in his line of work and a truly remarkable conversationalist and negotiator both in and outside of his job, he’s got a bit of a secret.

He’s an absolutely abysmal flirt.

Now, let’s not be mistaken: he can woo with the best of them for a mission. But it’s not a part of his work he particularly enjoys, nor is all that comfortable with. He’s got a heart so big that he can barely carry it, and the manners and conscience to match, so he feels fairly ill at ease crossing the lines of good taste and treating a woman in any way he could imagine deeming less than ladylike.

It makes flirting (and anything that might come after) very, very difficult for poor Jack, and though he often has to muscle through that gut feeling of wrongness for the sake of a mission, it leaves him with a sour taste in his mouth. And that’s just for a mission: when his heart really gets involved, he’s an utter mess.

Jack’s the sort of man who loves ardently, passionately, and emotionally. He loves with childlike devotion, with utmost adoration. Once he’s fallen in love, truly and fully, it consumes him; he’s a true Southern romantic, one who wants to treat his lady like a princess, like she’s the only woman in the world, and wants to dedicate himself body and soul to her and her happiness. As a result, as his feelings start to grow for the object of his affections, he’ll try his darndest to show her the candor and honesty of his heart, going out of his way to display his most gentlemanly, chivalrous attributes.

For example, he’ll rush to try and open doors for her, pull out chairs for her to sit in, stand up and take off his hat when she enters a room, flash her a big, warm smile if she ever looks in his direction, and refer to her only with the most respectful of terms. Now, that may not sound like bad flirting, but the issue isn’t that he’s corny, it’s that he can’t bring himself to actually, you know, flirt.

The thing that trips him up is that he is, in fact, just so concerned about treating her with respect and dignity and nothing but kindness, and he doesn’t want her to feel like he’s putting the moves on her, as if she’s just an object, an conquest, an assignment. He doesn’t want her to feel like he’s laying out all the stock tropes he lays out for the people he’s meant to momentarily charm for a mission: he wants her to feel how deep and genuine his affection for her is, and that it comes from a place of sincerity, of true desire to know her and be with her.

So he doesn’t ever actually flirt, per se, in the early stages of his investment in their relationship. He’s just painfully, achingly polite, almost to the point of being uncomfortably stiff and out of character. Everyone around him notices the abrupt shift in attitude the moment his beloved enters the room; he sits up straighter and taller, uses his best diction, swears less, and seems almost nervous, like a showdog. Tequila swears that Jack breaks out in hives, though Ginger says it’s just a bit of a flop-sweat. Both agree that he does get substantially redder in the face, especially around the cheeks and ears.

When the woman he’s enamored with leaves the room, he’ll sometimes slump low in his chair or rub at his eyes tiredly, sighing out in embarrassment; he knows he must have looked insane, babbling on about lord only knows what. He just can’t help being so tightly wound up around her; whenever she walks in the room, he can feel his stomach tie in knots, his hands sweat, his tongue lay heavy in his mouth.

As time goes on, though, and as his bond with his beloved strengthens, and they grow from just being coworkers to being friends with genuine closeness and familiarity, he learns to relax and be at ease in her presence. Yes, he still flop-sweats a little (the poor inner rim of his Stetson is always damp after a conversation with her), but he learns to talk to her more openly, more calmly, and lets himself feel less afraid of messing up in front of her. Instead, he focuses on just making her smile and reveling in the moment, enjoying being in her presence.

He still opens doors for her, still stands up and takes his hat off to greet her as she enters the room, and gives her all his gentlemanly attentions with even more enthusiasm, but he does so with less fear in his heart; the fear is replaced with simple, pure joy at seeing her, at being able to do at least some small thing to express that joy, that admiration he has for her.

Jack is also a little bit of a gift-giver, though he tries to do it in subtle ways so she won’t feel like he’s trying to buy her affection.

It may sound odd, but Jack keeps a tiny Moleskine notebook in his back pocket and takes quick notes any time his lady love mentions wanting something, needing a new this or that, or any other details he wants to remember. He’d somewhere heard that Mister Rogers had kept notes on people he loved in order to remember details of their personal lives, and if it’s good enough for Mister Rogers, it’s good enough for Jack Daniels.

So every now and then, when he wants to give her a little nudge of his love, Jack will open up the notebook and look through the pages in order to pick something to give her; say she’d recently complained about how her work computer is too old to properly keep up with her needs: HR will, seemingly out of nowhere, have the resources to replace hers with a nice, shiny, brand new one.

Perhaps she’d mentioned that she didn’t have a scarf suitable for the winter, and, out of the blue, a pretty white box will be on her desk with a prettier scarf inside, the gift only noted as one by a small card reading “To keep you warm. -An Admirer”.

Flowers will be sent to her office, but never big, distinctly romantic bouquets. He prefers to send smaller, more simplified ones meant to brighten the room and her day, not distract her with gauche or gaudy proclamations of love. His favorite bouquet to send is a mixture of white lilies, white tulips, and a bright yellow pop of goldenrod: pure, sweet, and sincere, and close to his heart in their meanings. Yes, he learned flower languages specifically to make sure he was sending her thoughtful bouquets. Can you blame a man for being invested?

In the same notebook, he also jots down other things about her; moments when she looked especially lovely, things she’d said that he wants to remember (like jokes or sweet compliments), her allergies, her favorite movies: personal details. He remembers them well enough on his own, but he likes to have the physical notes to look over, too: they help him remember other details, too, forming webs and recalling details he’d thought he’d forgotten. It makes him feel ever-so-tender, and he loves taking the notes and poring over them again later whenever he needs a spark of her warmth in his chest.

In a different vein, Jack also tends to be a bit of a show-off whenever the situation permits. If there’s ever a chance to display how good he is with his whip or lasso in front of her, he’ll take it, gladly bringing out his splashiest techniques, hoping to get a smile out of her, always checking her expressions as he does his tricks to see if she’s responding as he’d hoped. Sometimes, if she’s watching him use his lasso and he does a particularly impressive trick, she’ll reward him with a round of dainty, polite applause, and his heart will swell (alongside his stroked ego) and Jack will be completely unable to suppress his gleeful, boyish smile.

Similarly, every so often, there’ll be an office party at the Statesman offices, and those are Jack’s opportunity to show off his dance moves. Dancing isn’t at all uncommon for the Statesmen-- they all love a good dance and pride themselves on being jovial people, often inclined to indulge in some good, old-fashioned fun-- but Jack stands out as one of the best dancers. While not as showy as Tequila, he’s got an undeniable grace and charm to his movements, one that issues an air of self-possession and aptitude for the art.

Thanks to the good fortune of his dancing ability and the providence of a social event like a dance, Jack’s been able to ask for his beloved’s hand on the dancefloor a few times. Something about knowing he’s a capable dancer instills Jack with the confidence he needs to approach her; it’s just a dance, after all, and plenty of their coworkers are dancing together platonically, so there’s no pressure on either of them to see the moment as more than just two friends having some harmless fun at a company event. Yet, still, in his heart of hearts, Jack knows that when he takes her hand and guides her onto the dancefloor, he’s not doing it out of mere companionship or camaraderie; his belly flutters with giddy excitement at her closeness to him, and at the intimacy of being able to share a dance together.

She’s not nearly so light of foot as he is, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest: in fact, he quite likes having to slow down and guide her, keeping his hands on her waist as he tells her where to put her feet. He adores the kittenish expression she’ll take on as she tries to follow his lead, staring down at their footwork, but he always relents and allows them to just sway or wiggle to the beat, depending on if it’s a slow song or a more exciting tempo.

His favorites are the slow songs, the ones where he gets permission to put his hands on her hips and feel her arms around his neck, where he can, if only for a moment, gaze down into her eyes and smile at her the way lovers do. He has more than once wondered to himself if this would be the kind of dance they’d do at their wedding, then quickly tucked the thought away in a rush of chagrin. Still, the tendrils of the thought linger as they step side to side, whispering to each other in hushed, playful tones about the others dancing and the events of the night, placing bets on who among the others would be the most hungover come sunrise the next day.

Jack also is always quick to offer to drive her home or, at the very least, walk her to her car every chance he can. He’s a bit of a hopelessly overprotective soul; he doesn’t think he could stand to see her get hurt, so whenever he sees her packing up to go home, he asks if she needs a ride anywhere. If she doesn’t, he asks if she’d like to be walked to her vehicle, and always feels so comforted when she accepts: after all, he’s not just offering for her peace of mind. It’s for his, as well.

He’ll fall into stride by her side as they walk, his hands shifting position as he fidgets, part of him itching to reach out and interlace their fingers, part of him doing its best to keep him in line. Their hands hover dangerously close as they walk, and every now and then an uneven step will cause their knuckles to brush for the briefest microsecond, which kickstarts Jack’s poor, mooning heart, his head rushing with schoolboy glee at the touch of his crush.

When they reach her car, he always opens her door for her and, once she’s comfortably seated, he closes it for her as well. He’ll linger at her window and give her a confidentially lovesick smile, murmuring “Now, you get home safe, alright, darlin’?”

She always promises she will, and he’ll pat the door of her car, as if coaxing a horse into running, and watch her drive away with a forlorn look in his eye, wishing he had the courage to act on the ache in his heart.

Honestly, the car-walking isn’t even half of all the things he likes to do for her. He likes to pretend to be running out to get “everyone” lunch and just “happen” to ask her if he can get her anything, and when she insists she doesn’t want to be a bother, he’ll counter with all his Southern charm, protesting that a lady’s gotta eat, and that a gentleman ought to provide.

Anytime he walks by her desk, he’ll ask if she needs anything, be it more staples or a drink or a break; Jack likes to feel helpful to her, like he’s showing her what a good provider he could be for her should they become a couple.

If she comes in sick, he’ll fuss that she needs to go home and rest, and won’t get to work on any of his projects until he’s gently cooed at her to go home and sleep and drink lots of fluids, and he’s scolded whatever supervisor made her come in when she is so clearly ill. Once she’s home and safely ensconced in her bed, then he’ll resume work; not a moment before. If she comes in stressed or anxious, he’ll come to her side and speak to her quietly, asking if there’s anything he can do, or if she’d like to step outside and just talk for a moment.

In short, Jack shows his care by being present: he lingers near her, listens to her needs, keeps a respectful distance until he knows it’s alright to draw closer. All he wants to do is treat her like the lovely lady she is and give her all his respect, reverence, and devotion. And then, maybe, someday, he’ll find the words to tell her just how much he cares about her, and, maybe, hear that she cares just as much for him. Until then, he’s willing to wait; she’s worth it.

#messages #long post #gif warning #jack daniels #agent whiskey #kingsman #i Almost wanna go longer on this but i have been fiddling with it for too long and i just need to Get It Out and see where it goes ghdkghdg #also posting this at 1 am is Dumb so i'll reblog it come morning just in case anyone with a normal sleep schedule wants to see it #anonymous

68 notes · View notes