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maxwell-grant · 2 months

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do you have any favorite batman henchmen?

I put a lot of stock into how a Batman work tackles the resident henchmen and assistants and organization surrounding any specific Batrogue and how those intersect with each other so yes, absolutely I have Bat-henchman opinions, and favorites per villain. I'm gonna about pick about one or two among my favorites and name a few honorable mentions, with one exception and that's Rhino, Scarface's muscle. I know he's sort of a package deal with Mugsy, and Mugsy's pretty good too, but Rhino's the one I love.

I have a huge amount of fondness for Rhino and Rhino specifically because of his showing in "Read my Lips", as one of my favorite musical pieces for the series is the leitmotif that plays specifically for Rhino's moments in the opening heist and his brawl with Batman in the climax, and frankly he earns a top spot for me solely on the basis that he has his own theme and it's a banger on top of that. Scarface is exactly the kind of Bat-villain you want funny stereotypical cartoon gangsters attached to, and the big dumb grunt archetype is always more fun when paired with a proportionally much smaller partner or boss. And in Rhino's case, not only is he a titanically strong wall of muscle taking orders from a hand-held puppet dressed like a gangster, but cowering in fear when said puppet gets angry at him and relieved when reminded that he's too stupid to betray da boss. They made a lot with very little out of a bit character and it makes me love the episode so much more, and again, he has his own theme song and it opens the episode even, pretty hard to top that.

Penguin: My favorite overall has usually been Lark, specifically the version of her that was introduced in Tony Daniel's run. Like with Rhino and Scarface, the tiny funny-looking Oswald Cobblepot having a tall, intimidating lady chaffeur following him around makes for good contrast, and although I didn't like "Bullies" much at all, I really liked that scene of them being on friendly terms with each other, how much Penguin trusts her with his life and what he does. I like she is not abiding by any kind of formal dress code, like everyone else who tends to work at the Lounge, she's got almost like a punk thing that really contrasts with Oswald's own outfits and I always liked that, her individuality.

A more recent favorite would be Lili Kwan from Penguin: One Bad Day, someone who is far more marginalized than Oswald, and someone who was marginalized and pushed aside BY Oswald, but who joins up with him because he is the best lesser evil she is going to get and because they have enough in common that he can relate to her and respect her and ensure she is respected, but she pointedly does not mince words around him and does not entertain Oswald's delusions and self-loathing. She kinda demands Oswald to be the better class of criminal he paints himself as, to learn from his mistakes and earn having her by his side because "a king can't have illusions", and that's an incredibly interesting dynamic to me, this person with a vision of what Penguin and his empire should be like and in a position to have Penguin listen to her about it, not just muscle by his side but a voice in his ear pushing him to get his head in the game, be someone who deserves the loyalty he has from the underprivileged and the outcasts he claims to be a part of.

Honorable mentions would be the Red Triangle Gang from Batman Returns. I don't think they would really belong in any other version of the Penguin, and I have some very mixed feelings on Returns still, but I like the history they have with this Oswald and I like them in the movie proper, my favorite is the Poodle Lady for no real reason. I would also name the Kabuki Twins from The Batman cartoon, and Mr Decondor from The Batman Audio Adventures.

Joker: I gotta go with Bob the Goon, the Number One Guy. He is not even called Bob the Goon in the movie, he's just become so emblematic a figure for goons everywhere that he earns that name, Bob the Goon. See, I actually don't think the Joker should employ clowns in his gang, I think if you have more than one clown going around doing crimes, then they're not that special individually, I don't see the Joker surrounding himself with people who look or act even half as outlandish as himself, and that’s part of why Bob works for me, this comically ordinary schlub grunt who nevertheless endears himself to our sympathies for putting up with the Joker, being endlessly loyal to Napier before and after his accident. We like him in no small part because the Joker clearly likes this guy as much as he's capable of liking anyone on the planet, which is why it actually lands when the Joker guns him down just to vent. Rest in peace Bob, an example to low-lives everywhere.

If I had to name another favorite, and one I think works better on a reocurring basis, it would be Charlie Charleyhorse, from The Batman Audio Adventures. Charleyhorse has the mannerisms of a smooth-talking wise guy and is the guy who handles the day-to-day businesses of the Joker, sweet-talking recruits and negotiating deals and convincing rookies to eat poison and even hosting his broadcasts, and in contrast to the other villain sidekicks in the show who provide comedic contrast he is this very efficient, very charming and dangerous man, fully cognizant of the cruelty he's assisting and the man he works for. To me he feels like a very organic way of establishing how much more dangerous the Joker is compared to the other villains, that he runs his disorganized crime with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, that behind all the chaos and mayhem there is an unfathomably brilliant mind at work and a smart, affable businessman to act as a conduit between that mind and the city, as if the Joker plucked the ghost of Jack Napier from his soul and found a sweet deal that lets them both happily exist.

Honorable mentions would be Prank, from The Batman cartoon. I think Joker gunning for his own Robin is an idea with legs (Harley never really counted in that regard), I really liked his design, a perfect combination of Robin aesthetics with a clown/jester motif, and I thought he had one of the more interesting set-ups for a "Joker corrupts people into extensions of him" story, definitely one of the better Joker episodes in that show. Other honorable mentions would be Jackanapes and Captain Clown from TAS, because the Joker getting unreasonably attached to a horrible giant clown android is a pretty funny concept to me.

Riddler: God, what a perfect character Miss Tuesday is. Pairing up the self-obsessed artist of crime with the harshest critic of all, the disinterested judgemental teenager, is such a perfect combo and it does so much to breathe new life into a very classic take on Riddler. The fact that she regularly stays in touch and coordinates stuff with other villain interns is amazing and part of the incredible worldbuilding The Batman Audio Adventures has in general. Miss Tuesday is this physical embodiment of ennui to deflate his cartwheeling histerics, manifesting every bit of self-awareness that the Riddler completely ignores, annoying him just as much as he annoys everyone else (her included).

It's punctuated by her being casually murderous to an extent that even surprises him, and the fact that she is just as smart as he is, so by the standards he lives his life by, he can't brush her off as another small-minded knuckle-dragging ignoramus like he does with everyone else, no, he can't tell himself that she simply doesn't understand what he is doing. She does understand him, she is just not that impressed by him, and Eddie will simply have to roll with the barbs and work harder if he is to prove himself. She is the closest The Riddler has to a conscience and thus her job is not to push him towards any kind of moral self-improvement or an approach to his work that doesn't involve murder and terrorism, but to dunk cold water on his head and call him cringe when he gets in too deep or for doing this instead of, like, making money off this crap or something.

The other candidate would be the Riddler's Followers from The Batman. They're not a concept I think would work for a more traditional version of The Riddler, but God they work SO well for that movie and that version of him, marking Eddie Nigma's transition from malajusted murderer into not just a supervillain with a city-destroying plot, not just the rise of supervillains as a thing Gotham is gonna have to deal with forever, but as a sickness aimed at the heart of the city, and a sickness that Batman is indirectly responsible for and that he must owe up to. I really like how The Riddler: Year One elaborates on them with "He doesn't trust people. But numbers never lie." His "henchmen" are numbers, numbers on a screen he never has to actually interact with, but can still send on to be proxies of him, embodiments of how much bigger this is than anything Batman could have imagined it being.

Honorable mentions would be the classic duo of Query and Echo, and much like Bob, we gotta bring up his henchgirl Molly from the Batman 66 pilot two-parter, who tragically died by falling into the Batcave's nuclear reactor. "What a way to go-go".

Two-Face: It's common for Two-Face to have twin sets of named thugs but I can't say any of them have ever been particularly memorable to me, but one that does stick out to me is Benny from Long Shadows. I'm of the opinion that if any Batman villain should be establishing a working relationship with a henchman/assistant, if any Batman villain really needs to be depicted putting in the work as far as convincing people to work for him, it should be Two-Face, the former widely-beloved District Attorney/politician turned crimelord who somehow stays a dominant player in the Gotham underworld despite everything stacked against him (his face, his reputation, his past being public record, the coin-based decisions, etc). I think Two-Face needs to be some degree of charismatic and conversational and convincing, he's someone with more tangential history in this world than the other villains and should be willing and able to engage with people at any level, even if, and especially if, he's going to betray or save them at the flip of a coin, and the closest anyone's ever come to capturing that for me has been Benny, this guy who's willing to question Two-Face's decisions and is smart and sensible and generally pleasant enough that Two-Face lets him do it (with some limits, of course) and lets him in on what he's planning. Being drawn by Mark Bagley, who can convey a lot of expression and personality on any character, is definitely a bonus.

Scarecrow: Not so much of a henchmen since this was technically a villain team-up, but Scream Queen as she was featured in that Brave and the Bold segment has literally nothing in common with comics Scream Queen as debuted in Scare Tactics to the point she is a new character in every way. I like comics Scream Queen quite a lot, and I wouldn't want her to be any kind of underling to Scarecrow, but BATB Scream Queen is a very cool design and concept and in general I think Scarecrow could stand to have some cool and inventive henchmen, I wouldn't be opposed to seeing BATB Scream Queen turn up again so long as she had a different name. I'm also extremely partial to the Strawmen and the idea of him employing former students and offering them teaching exercises mid-crime.

Bane: There's really only one form of Bane henchmen that matter and it's Bird, Zombie and Trogg, the Fabulous Five to his Doc Savage (I always felt like there could be two more members to actually make them five, I know it doesn't have to be an exact reference but). I like them as they are in regular canon but my favorite depiction of them so far has been in the Batman 66 comic by Jeff Parker, which retrofits Bane to fit the 66 aesthetic and tone by further emphasizing his lucha motif, and having his Fabulous Three all dress up in distinct masks of their own referencing existing iconic luchadore characters.

Black Mask: I think the False Face Society is one of the more interesting parts of Black Mask's concept and it really doesn't come up enough, and when it does it gets folded into just being a name for his gangster lackeys instead of the weird cult aspect it acquired when it was folded into his character, I'd like to see that stuff get folded back in.

Hugo Strange: Honestly I love all of Hugo's varied forms of henchmen over the years, all of them have their place in the grand tapestry of his designs (I'm not too big on Sanjay from Batman and the Monster Men, there is stuff to like about their dynamic but I don't think the pulp racial manservant is a thing deserving of the charming throwback treatment). The gangsters from his debut, the androids/mannequins, Night Scourge, the TYGER guards/troopers from Arkham City, the mind-controlled villains and inmates from his Deathstroke arc, and of course the Monster Men. I do prefer the horrific body horror kaijus from Night of the Monster Men, but I also like the mutated giants, especially when they dress up in oversized trenchcoats and slouch hats.

There are a few others but I'm lastly gonna say Mr.Freeze and his polar bears Notchka and Shaka, from Batman and Mr.Freeze: Subzero. I'm not opposed to Mr.Freeze having regular henchmen, or even ice-themed henchmen like in Batman and Robin, there are ways to have it make sense, but the polar bears I think have this sort of almost innocent fairytale logic to them that just fits Mr.Freeze and his imagery a lot better, abstract guardians of the concept of the arctic that Mr.Freeze claims dominion over. Even at their most benign, you can't extricate human henchmen from the inherent brutality of their profession, but when it's trained animals defending a master, it's easier to find innocence and sympathy, traits that fit well with Mr.Freeze. If there's anything in that movie I remember, it's the bittersweet ending where they walk off into a blizzard together, his sole two companions into this new life he's cursed with.

Does it really make any sense for Mr.Freeze's established skillset and character for him to have a duo of trained polar bears on call to do crimes with, the way Penguin and Catwoman have their own trained animals? No. Is it corny? Arguably yes. Do I think it's cool? Is it a cool image? Very much so, and when it comes to Batman, that tends to be the final word in things.

#replies tag #batman #comic books #superheroes #dc comics #dc #joker #penguin #the penguin #riddler #miss tuesday #mr freeze #two-face #scarecrow #hugo strange #bane

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euphoricfilter · 2 years

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omg you’re sooo sweet!! I love your writing and it amazes me how you intend to just do a small drabble but it’s always series worthy & ik that’s not what you plan but that’s how interesting your stories get🥹 but I have so many ideas for the “how time has changed you” couple (you don’t have to do them all or at all, just a few ideas) but maybe you can tell us more about how they met, how she fought him and how he finally got her into Stockholm syndrome, and maybe some smut along the way either right before she fell into Stockholm syndrome so (dubcon/somno) or after and their just so thirsty for each other 😮‍💨

it’s all in your head:

pairing: yandere! yoongi x f. reader

genre: more angst than fluff || mafia au || yandere au || non-idol au

summary: you're the one that let yourself fall

word count: 2.1k

tags/ warnings: kidnapping, implied stockholm syndrome, unintentional mind break/ mentioned disassociation, mentions of minor injuries (bruises)

notes: chronologically happens before ‘how time has changed you’ but i think reading hthcy first is probably better ~ drabble requests closed (peep the gorillaz reference in the title) also!!! thank you??? you're sweet too my love <3 and thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to read my stuff??

drabble masterlist || my main masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Human beings are flawed in design. And somewhere, mingled between all the self-loathing thoughts, somewhat of a god complex had formed.

You wouldn’t ever tell anyone, hot embarrassment too much to handle, but truly you felt as though you were untouchable. Like the universe had a secret little rule written somewhere in the stars that luck was always on your side.

It had been a harsh slap to the face when reality had settled in. It was strange how for days you’d been watching yourself from outside of your body. Someone so familiar yet so different, who had your face, your mannerisms, everything so very you; yet she’d fallen into the claws of a beast. No longer exempt from the evils of the world.

While you covered your ears at the incessant banging at the bedroom door, you from the real world simply curls up further into herself.

You were aware that your captor wasn’t going to open the door. You hadn’t exactly been the kindest in your first few days here, more than a few bruises littering his skin from your outbursts. Sticky guilt seizing your body when you’d catch a glimpse of his arms painted purple from an unjust kick, because somehow you knew he never had plans to touch you if it wasn’t on your own terms.

The little control you had over your life in the form of a lock and key. Yoongi had found himself more than worried when you wouldn’t even open the door for food, never below begging for you to come out even if only briefly because really your health was the most important thing.

Through prickly thoughts of impossible escape and wallowing in self-pity, you’d tried to figure out where you’d met Yoongi. Because even if you had come across thousands of faces between meeting him, surely you wouldn’t forget eyes like his. A thousand secrets hidden behind eyes almost as black as the night sky; eyes that would have no problem picking you apart with nothing but a single glance.

He seemed to know you quite well. Seemingly knowing small, insignificant things about you. Favourite foods, snacks you’d always seem to eye when you’d wander into a convenience store of an evening. Every little hobby you’d picked up in the last six months stacked on a coffee table. Clothes you’d been eyeing online for weeks, sat in a basket that truly you had no intention of buying; a faraway dream that’s not as far as it seems.

A prison disguised as a perfect bedroom. And as much as the bed had looked tempting, silk duvet sure to do wonders for your skin and blankets that were made of velvet; you hadn’t dared fall asleep. Not until your body had begged for rest and you’d spend an hour napping on the woollen rug, only to be woken by a tray of food being slipped through the door.

The first time you become somewhat aware of your physical body again is when Yoongi doesn’t show up one morning. Doesn’t tell you stories of his life, doesn’t sit there as you stare at your food; praying that he would leave you alone. That he’d let you go, or at least answer the questions that have you falling into an endless hole of hysteria.

You shower. A rushed ordeal because you didn’t know when Yoongi would return. And then you’d fallen asleep on the rug until the sun had dipped below the horizon and Yoongi had made himself comfortable outside your door again.

You’d tried to run, dreams of a world so far out of your grasp dying in your hands as you stand there only to find heavy footsteps that stalked the halls, a brutal reminder that you wouldn’t get very far even if you tried.

The windows didn’t open, you’d tried that. Too scared to try and smash them open, sure they were specially made– impossible to break.

You’d lost all concept of time. Days bleeding into nights. Hours melting into one another. Where seconds are nothing more than fine dust, something you relied on truly nothing but a concept. Unattainable no matter how long you tried to count each minute or guess the day of the week. Every day is a repeat of the last. The only difference would be what Yoongi would talk about, gravelly voice ricocheting throughout your mind until you lay there awake hours after he’d gone to bed, replaying everything he’d told you that evening.

You’re not sure when it happens, but you start to expect Yoongi. Knowing that when delicate orange light spills into your room from the window, the sky the prettiest shade of pink, he’d be there.

Yoongi never opened the door. Voice bold enough that you can hear everything he says, walls thin enough that you can hear each deep sigh that passes through his lips when he talks about certain things that irk him just that little bit.

When Yoongi talked, and you listened, the world was shrouded in darkness. And you simply floated, merely existed. No expectations, not that you knew of anyways. And maybe he had a hidden agenda, something a little more sinister lurking behind airy words that silenced every niggling thought in your mind that kept you awake every night.

You don’t think much of it when Yoongi doesn’t show up one evening. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d have done this. Sure to come tomorrow morning with a plate full of cake, maybe those cookies that you liked; way too expensive for you to ever splurge on. Hot chocolate or sweet tea, you’re unsure though he seems to decide based off the weather, and so you’ll have to see what a new day brings you before you hazard a guess.

And so, you deal with the silence of the bedroom for one evening.

By the second day of silence, you’d found yourself staring at the door again, every little creak of the floorboards in the hallway causing you to perk up. Tips of your fingers burning as you dig your nails into the carpet, feet tapping against the floor, bottom lip chewed between your teeth. Every passing hour of deafening silence tugging you further and further into a spiral.

Without Yoongi’s voice your thoughts had amplified.

You hadn’t been here long in retrospect, a month? Maybe a little more. Surely he hadn’t already gotten sick of you? How pitiful would that be? The very man who had shown an inkling of an obsession was already done with you.

Day four, and you’re sat by the door, startling one of the maids who had come to give you breakfast.

You bang your head against the wall once she closed it, the tray kicked away from you as frustrated tears cling to your lashes. Something suffocating grabbing onto your neck, a phantom hand cutting off your air as you tug at your hair.

Self-pity is a terrible thing. An ugly emotion mutating into something a little worse until you can physically feel the sadness, tugging at your temples in the form of a headache, salty cheeks, tight with tears, or a heart that feels infinite times heavier compared to the ache of rocky blue sadness.

As the sun rises on the sixth day, you decide to keep the bedroom door open, in hopes that a breeze from the open windows downstairs would carry some of the wretched thoughts that wouldn’t leave you alone no matter how hard you tried to drown them out.

You’d tried washing them down the drain, scalding hot shower only burning your skin, red-raw and tender to touch– physical twinge of pain still not enough to make the world silent.

You’d sat in front of the CD player for an hour before you’d flicked through piles of plastic cases to find a song you liked. And you hadn’t been all that surprised to find they were all your favourite artists. You’d only managed to blast one song before you’d kept the volume down, always listening out for all the little noises outside the room.

On the seventh day, you’d sat in the doorway of the bedroom, legs tucked up to your chest. You’d only made brief eye contact with the herculean man standing opposite your door before you’d retreated back into your own mind. Because as much as it was tempting, you wouldn’t dare ask where Yoongi was, sickly hatred still gnawing away at the back of your mind.

On the eighth day, one of the maids had asked if you wanted to take a stroll in the garden; that hauling yourself up in the bedroom all day isn’t healthy. And something inside of you had fallen out of place. So completely out of character, you couldn’t recognise yourself.

You’d started flinging pillows and blankets off the bed at Yoongi’s staff, unsure if what was coming out of your mouth was words of sobs or shaky little cries. Your body seemingly moves on its own, free will fizzling in your hands as you act on impulse.

“What’s all this?”

You stop, hiccuping as Yoongi stands in the doorway, blurry; veiled by tears that cling to wet lashes.

“Out. All of you”

You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hands, knees cushioned by long-forgotten blankets as you drop to the floor. Footsteps of those scuttling out of the room drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears.

Yoongi runs his thumb over his bottom lip, your shoulder shaking as you swallow down another sob.

He crouches, still far enough away from you.

“What’s all this about, darling?” he soothes.

“I hate you. I hate you so much” you kick at the blankets underneath you, “first you fucking take me without asking–”

“It’s for your own good” he shakes his head, “I did it for you”

“Bullshit” you laugh, “Normal people don’t do this”

“You and I come from two very different worlds, baby”

You push the palms of your hands into the sockets of your eyes, “I wouldn’t know. I don’t know you”

Yoongi hums, gentle as he takes a step forward, slow so you can see he merely wants to be closer, “But I know you”

“And that makes it okay for you to act like you care and then leave for days?”

He blinks, “Is that what this is about?” a laugh bubbling up his throat, “You were lonely, is that it? Because you could have asked for me and I would have come straight home for you”

“Huh?” your eyebrows crease, and your eyes meet his own, “that’s not–”

“Not what?” he tilts his head, something acutely mocking in his gaze, “Not you waiting for me? Not you slowly losing yourself to your wretched little mind? Always overthinking, so caught up in your own head. I have eyes and ears everywhere– I know every little thing you’ve been doing over the last week”

You swallow, “I hate you”

“Lying is bad, you know?” he hums, “It’s okay to let go sometimes. It’s okay to admit you can’t do things alone.”

You shake your head.

“No?”

“You weren’t here. I was alone.”

“I’m here now. I’ll always be here for you”

Yoongi thinks people have pre-established ideals about him because of his job. Brute force and terror had never been something he wanted to instil in you. Never wanting to wear you down, pull you so far into the darkness that you stray away from the essence of your being. He loved you as you were and simply wanted you to see eye-to-eye with him.

He hadn’t expected you to fall so soon. Had prepared to wait many more months if it meant he could have you where he wanted you.

It’s endearing, how much control you seem to think you have over your own thoughts. The mind is ever so fragile, and truly, we are our own worst enemies. And maybe that’s what he found so fascinating about you. Wanting to weave his way into your own world, stuck inside your own head, so many thoughts and so many ugly feelings that he’d love to just wash away.

And to just watch you find the little piece of freedom from your own awful mind. A fucked up hero that saved you from your own hysteria, because as much as you liked to think you were the one in control, he could see it. Watched as each day you slowly started to lose yourself.

And Yoongi will never say it, will never take the prize of you sinking into his grasp, because you’d brought yourself here. And he assumes you’ll only continue to sink further and further until all you know is him; the way it’s supposed to be.

And very soon, he knows the two of you will find something special.

🧸 thank you for reading!!

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts angst #yoongi imagine #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts non idol au #bts mafia fic #bts yandere #yandere yoongi #yoongi #bts #yoongi angst #bts imagines #drabble game

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stevesjockstrap · 8 months

Text

Somebody to Love

@stcreators event 04: music

Steve/Eddie • rated G • 90s, no upside down, single dad Steve • read on ao3

Eddie loathed the early shift at the record store, but Allan had moved away and the new hire was a college student who had class every morning, so Eddie had begrudgingly agreed when Chrissy had explained the situation.

He was not a morning person. But he figured since the store was usually empty in the morning, he could use the time to write music or work on his D&D campaigns. Then go home and nap.

Everything changed the day the new customer walked in. It was just after nine, and Eddie had had about four sips of coffee when the bell on the door jingled.

“Welcome to Chrissy’s Classics,” he monotoned.

“Mornin’,” the guy mumbled, giving him a nod.

He tried his best not to stare as the man walked aimlessly around the store. He looked younger than Eddie, but had more laugh and worry lines. They suited him. Showed off that he’d expressed himself a lot. He appreciated those things about people. Scars and freckles and callouses and liver spots. Those were the things that made you real, the things that showed you really lived.

The customer’s hair was hidden under a beanie, but his sideburns and the too long tufts on the back of his neck were a gorgeous and intriguing copper color.

They made sudden awkward eye contact when the man looked up and Eddie immediately ducked his head down to his notebook. His closed notebook. He heard a small snicker and he winced. Caught.

Deciding to go for broke, he cleared his throat and looked back up. “You need any help finding anything today, sir?”

The man laughed, grinning over at him. “No, I don’t think. And lose the ‘sir.’ It makes me feel ancient.”

“You’re not ancient,” he argued. If he was ancient then Eddie was already dead.

“Thanks, I’ll take that today,” the man gave him a crooked smile. He held up a record and nodded towards a listening booth. Eddie waved a hand.

That was good. Let’s him off the hook of making small talk. At least until he’d woken up a bit more.

A few minutes later, though, he almost dropped his coffee cup when he heard singing coming from the booth. Not entirely on key, but belting out George Michael without a care in the world, and it brought a smile to Eddie’s face. So new guy assumed the booths were soundproof. They definitely were not.

But over the next couple weeks this became their norm. Usually the first customer of the day, if not the only customer Eddie saw during the morning, Crinkly Eyes would show up, they’d have some pleasant small talk about the weather or a new album release that week, and he’d end up in a booth. Where he’d sing. Usually some pop hit, but sometimes going rogue and choosing The Cure or Van Halen.

While Eddie would pretend like he couldn’t hear. Secretly serenaded while he mapped out his campaigns or doodled. Tried to decide when he’d gather the courage to ask out the hot guy who didn’t know he was putting on a concert for one.

When Chrissy stopped by early to do payroll, she heard him in the booth and raised an eyebrow. Eddie shook his head pointedly at her and she’d just shrugged.

“Whatever, weirdo. Your funeral when he finds out eventually,” she’d scolded quietly as she walked back to the office.

Then on a perfectly ordinary day, Crinkly Eyes walked in with his nails painted. All different colors and what had to be glitter, the sunlight catching on it just right. Eddie couldn’t drag his eyes away, the juxtaposition of the big manly hands and the pretty nails causing his brain to malfunction.

The man blushed so prettily, too. “Oh,” he murmured. “I forgot. Um, my daughter, she- well she only has twenty of her own nails to paint. She was upset that she couldn’t use all the colors.” He raked a hand nervously through his hair.

“Looks nice, very pretty,” Eddie offered with a lopsided grin.

“Hah, thanks,” he stuck his hand out finally and introduced himself. “I’m Steve, by the way. Thanks for letting me come here like every day and annoy you. My kid, she started half day kindergarten around the corner… and I didn’t want to be far, you know, if she needed me? And I can’t stand being home alone anymore. It’s too quiet.” The man, Crinkly Eyes, Steve, realized he was rambling and pulled his lips in between his teeth. Adorably.

“Oh, yeah, of course. It’s pretty boring here in the mornings, anyways. Chrissy would probably be happier if I sold you something, but it’s fine.” He laughed at Steve’s stricken face. “Seriously, it’s cool. At least you’re dusting off the record players for me, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said a bit awkwardly.

“You should bring your artist daughter in some time. I’d love to meet her.”

“Oh? Y-yeah, that’d be okay?” He seemed to be asking a deeper question.

“I’d like it, or maybe we could do dinner just the two of us first. Before I meet the family.” He winked.

Steve sucked in a breath but recovered quickly. “Yes! I mean, yeah, uh, we could definitely do that.” His eyes crinkled up more as he smiled wide.

It wasn’t until after their dinner that he confessed to listening to him singing every day, and he’d watched mesmerized as Steve turned a brilliant red and stammered at him.

Title from the song Somebody to Love, Steve would’ve been stoked about the George Michael release.

#two fics in one long weekend- not bad #event fic #mine #steddie #Steve/eddie #Eddie Munson #record store #Steve Harrington #give steve all the babies #stranger things #stranger things fic

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hannahssimblr · 5 months

Text

“I have to say, this is an impressive body of work.”

I shift in my seat, “By impressive do you mean that it’s good, or that there’s a lot of it?”

This gets a laugh. “Both,” says the man, Paul, flicking through a sketchbook with tattooed hands, fingers stained from nicotine. I notice things like this now. Hands. I notice their lines and their bones, all their interesting details, and perhaps Paul himself could gauge this now as he pours over my figure studies where there are pages upon pages of hands, old and young, my friends, my sisters at the piano, an old woman clutching at a handrail on the train, and my own, a hundred times in different ways, blisters, plasters, hangnails and bruises from the rugby pitch.

The woman, Ida, shuffles through a stack of watercolour paintings I did last summer, mostly seascapes, the beach and the rushes, the whitewashed houses and rusted iron of the Wexford coast. Just looking at them I can recall the grit of sand under my bare feet as I warmed them on the deck of our holiday home behind my portable easel. In three months I’ll return again for one last summer, and after that I expect I’ll miss it there.

“And you said you didn’t do a portfolio preparation year?” She says, peering over the rim of her glasses.

“No, I’m still at school.”

“Highly unusual for a sixth year,” her eyebrows climb up her forehead, “You've clearly dedicated a lot of time to this.”

I shrug, “Yeah, I like making art, I don’t know.”

It’s difficult to tell what this woman is thinking. Everything about her is harsh, dramatic, from the sharp fringe that sits straight and neat above her brows to the slash of her mouth, thin lips, pointy chin, hard eyes, but I have to assume for the sake of my own self esteem that she doesn’t positively loathe my portfolio. She spends some time looking through my work, slowly, methodically, sometimes leaning closer to frown at something, maybe some proportion that’s off, bad composition, a clumsy attempt at ambient occlusion that doesn’t hit the mark…

“It’s beautiful,” she says simply, and I exhale.

“Oh look, a familiar face,” Paul holds a portrait to Ida, “That’s the girl that we were interviewing a few people before this, what was her name again?”

“Michelle,” I say, “My girlfriend.”

Paul nods, “Michelle, right! Good likeness,” and places the notebook back onto the table. Leaning back in his chair, he cracks his knuckles, “Look, Jude, there’s no two ways about it here, your work is outstanding. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a portfolio that hits every mark, every requirement and goes beyond, I mean,” he lets out a puff of air and gestures to the table, “this is nuts. And for a sixth year? Come on. This stuff would blow some of our third and fourth year college students out of the water.”

I feel like I could melt off the chair with relief, but try to suppress my utter delight so that they don’t think I’m too hungry for validation.

“Cool.”

“It’s the sensitivity,” Ida adds, “Your observation skills, your sense of weight, movement, knowledge of anatomy. It’s rare to see this kind of work from a secondary school student. Your efforts are just… so impressive.”

“And look, we know it depends on your Leaving Cert points, and yeah, that’ll be a contributing factor when it comes to acceptance, but, like,” Paul looks over the table again, tossing his hands up conclusively, “as far as I’m concerned, we’ll see you in September.”

Ida’s mouth curls into a smile, “We hope. If you choose us.”

If I choose them? Am I dreaming? How have I become the kind of person who is coveted by an art school? Surely not. Surely soon I’ll wake up and discover that this whole interview has been a product of my dreams. Too much time spent stressing out over art, the requirements, the brief... Almost certainly I’ve fallen asleep somewhere and none of this is real.

“That’s really kind of you to say. I’m glad you liked my stuff.”

“Blown away,” says Paul, and he leaps to his feet to shake my hand like I’ve just won a prize, “all we need is a pass in the Leaving Cert, you can surely manage it.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I do.”

They’re smiling at me as I gather up my work, and still smiling as I give them one last sheepish wave from the door, and I realise I am still smiling too as I face the hallway of waiting students, staring at me with portfolios rested against their knees. I probably shouldn’t look too overjoyed, it might knock their confidence, so I try to look very bored instead as I pass by, though I may explode from the inside out.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #he's back baby #looking cuter than ever #I love hipster era Jude so much??#and c'mon #y'all know what's coming this summer #anyone recognise Ida?

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buckyarchives · 2 years

Text

Little Mermaid | Bucky Barnes

summary: a mission gone rogue, and bucky has to depend on you to save him, with the help of a few unlikely friends found in the middle of the atlanic.

8.5k words

warnings: none, bucky's self-loathing

a/n: avatar has taken over my life so now you guys get a deep sea bucky fic where he bonds with dolphins, yes. It's literally pure fluff, I'm sorry I'm weak. I AM TAKING REQUESTS BTW!!!

Read on AO3

“How long has she been in there?”

Bucky glanced down at his watch. “30 minutes, and 25 seconds.”

“You gonna get her out?” Sam scoffed, his voice echoing around the walls of the dome-like room. The water reflected on the two boys, decorating mostly bucky's faces with ripples of the water as the lights lit up the pool.

“Hmm.'' Bucky hummed. Craning his head to look down into the pool, where your blurry figure sat at the bottom. I the peaceful bliss you'd often escape to. “No, she’ll get mad.”

“We leave for the mission later, make sure to tell her to get ready once she gets out,” Sam said, bucky nodded. “She will get out soon, right?”

“Hope so."

Bucky didn't pay Sam even a glance. his eyes trained onto the waters and a slacked jaw. A sweet and blissful smile painted his face, and Sam noticed, smirking to himself.

Sam has known bucky longer, but you sure knew him better. Nonetheless, Sam knew of how impatient Bucky could be, he spent most of his days being a close-to intolerable grumpy asshole– but once it came to you. it was entirely different. Sam would catch bucky sometimes, like now, just sitting next to the pool for hours on end. just waiting like some lost puppy.

Waiting for you to come up from the water for the breath of air you so rarely needed. Only to spare Bucky a quick conversation or just a glance before diving back down. Bucky would make himself comfortable and rid of his shoes and roll up his pants to dip his feet in. but the majority of the time, he'd just watch and wait with the same love-sick smile on his face.

Yeah, love-sick. Everyone knew it, saw it, hell– felt it in the compound. The tension, the sweet glances from across the room, the way Bucky would find any excuse to follow you to bodies of water– despite his distaste for swimming or being wet. The obvious pining between the two of you, almost knew, everyone except for bucky and you. If that was even possible.

If on cue, right as Sam was about to leave. The loud swish and splash of water brought his gaze back to the pool, where you came up from under with your hair slick back and water droplets falling off your nose. Bucky's eyes didn't leave you once.

“Back to dry land, little mermaid?” Sam snarked, you laughed sweetly as you slowly swam towards the edge, right next to bucky. Bringing your arms to rest on the edge, puddles of water pool around your arms and slowly crept towards bucky. But, he didn't even think to scoot away from you.

“Very funny, bird man.” you replied back, turning your head towards bucky. “You still don't want to get in?”

Not missing a beat in the offer, after the first few weeks of noticing the super soldier hanging around the pool whilst you swam. Eventually, You'd started to offer every time he showed up, bucky always said no, but you'd never stopped asking. Apart from you maybe just wanted to share the one thing you cherished just as much as him.

But he always just sat at arm's length and watched you in your element. Bucky would never say it out loud– but it was one of his favorite things to do. Getting distracted in the ripples of the water, losing himself in the soft sound of you doing laps.

Bucky was quick to shake his head, his long brunette hair swayed with the motion. And almost innocent look on his face. “No, I'm okay. We have a mission, anyways.”

You frowned– but were not surprised, slowly pulling yourself out from the water. Dressed only in a dark blue body suit, water dripping rapidly from your limbs. “Really?”

“In 3 hours,” Bucky replied, and you audibly groaned. You wished for another hour of the stillness that lay at the bottom of the pool.

“What's the details?” you padded over to the table, grabbing a towel from the rack and drying yourself off.

Bucky watches intently, not in a creepy way. Adoration, and curiosity is how he liked to explain it. Your abilities and connection with h2o had always been a mystery to him, to everyone, except maybe director Fury. You could control water, that he knew. I mean, bucky was the one to find you washed up on some random Californian beach. Only to find out you had no memory of dry lands.

So, bucky always had half a thought to wonder why you dried yourself off with a towel, him being close to sure you could get it done with a flick of your wrist. shit, he saw you drain every last drop of it from a Hydra agent that had pissed you off.

“Me, you, Bucky, and Steve are going on a recon mission. There's an unidentified island somewhere in the Atlantic.” Sam started, “rumored to be a leftover Hydra base. You and Bucky are going in on the north end, Steve and I will be arriving on the south end.”

“Over waters?” you ask, a slight perk in your voice. Sam and Bucky nod, and you smiled. Even the closeness of your past home lit a fire inside you. Mumbling under your breath, “not so bad, I guess.”

“Yep, and we leave soon so both of you get ready.” Sam said again. Before turning around and leaving you and Bucky alone.

Wrapping the towel fully around your body, shivering from the sudden coolness of the air. Bucky awkwardly shifts on his feet, the slick floor beneath his leather boots squeaking as he attempts not to slip (because he did once and you've never let it go.)

“Don't slip.” you remind him as if you could read his mind. A smirk painted on your lips and bucky’s under his breath.

“If I do, you’re obliged to catch me.” bucky snarks back.

Your head perks up, “oh yeah? Says who?”

Bucky doesn't answer your question, and leaves the teased question unanswered just to annoy you.

“Whatever.” laughing, beaming up at bucky like he was the world. “See you in a few,” you say, walking past the semi-dazed man as bucky's eyes followed you out of the room, the loud door booms as it closes leaving him alone.

Exhaling a shaky breath, settling the fast-paced beat in his chest. His face feels warm despite the chillness of the pool room. Bucky needed to get a wrap of his emotions before this mission, the first one-on-one mission with you. Bucky likes to watch, and observe with a slight adoration in his eyes. Silence is a familiarity between you two. Bucky’s too used to stuttering around in his brain anytime he sees you, silence and short meaningless banter is better– easier.

Bucky trudged up to his room with the thought of you heavy in his head, along with the warmth you bring him.

*****

Steve and Sam had taken off approximately 40 minutes before you and bucky, you went back and forth in the hanger loading all the equipment needed. You soon realize this was the first duo mission with bucky alone, being alone with him wasn't a strange thing but, this was different.

“Take off in 10.” agents Hill reminds you, “this mission shouldn’t be long, we just need you two to check all security and activity on the north side and get out. No jumping to take any risks.'' Maria eyed Bucky, earning a grumble and eye roll at the obvious poke at his reckless behavior involving Hydra assignments. You can understand why.

Bucky headed up the hanger, you went to follow but just before you could, Maria grabbed onto your shoulder. “I’m serious, Y/N. keep him off the ledge, no fighting unless absolutely necessary.”

Nodding, and sending her a reassuring smile. “If he needs someone to keep him out of his head, why not send Steve?” you ask honestly, eyes glancing back towards bucky as he got the jet ready for take off.

“Believe it or not, I think bucky trusts your opinion more than Steve’s nowadays.'' Maria finished, walking off before you could question the meaning of what she said, exactly. Your eyebrows knotted, turning back to the man adjusting his seat at the nose of the jet.

Surely that couldn't be true? You and bucky were close friends, best friends even. But you've only known him for, what? Like seven, or eight months? Steve’s known him his entire life, grew up with him, and shared memories with bucky from before his life went to shit.

A part of you always thought Bucky only lingered around you because he was the one to find you, like it was an insensible responsibility he held above himself. Because he always held himself responsible for things out of his control, too hard on himself. And you were just there, you were the outsider just like him. You valued your friendship and respected him but you've always assumed part of it was just out of pity.

Heading up the hanger and letting it close behind you, the soft sound of the engines starting up as you strapped into the co-pilot's seat. Bucky was always much better at flying these than you. Your eyes glance over to him awkwardly a few times, settling into your seat as lift-off begins, bracing through the small turbulence before you were flying gently in the sky.

“ETA should be about 30 minutes.” bucky said, hands steady on the gears. You nodded in response.

“What do you think will be there?” you ask curiously, mostly to just fill the silence.

Bucky hummed, his icy blue eyes glancing at you. The ones that never fail to leave you breathless, even from the very beginning. “Zero ideas, I hope nothing.”

“Agreed.” you nodded. Bucky's eyes didn’t leave you, and you met him quickly.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words got lost on your tongue and you, as well, got lost in his gaze.

Seemingly, always having a habit of doing so, from the moment bucky found you on that beach, half alive. The first thing you saw as you opened your eyes was those deep blue eyes that reminded you too much of the only place you've known. From an instant finding comfort in bucky, in his Atlantic blue irises.

As bucky got distracted in your gaze, both of you did. Seconds or minutes could have passed, and the loud noise of fire coming towards you muffled out. That was until it hit you, literally, the loud boom and shake startling you and bringing you both back down to reality.

An instant panic sets in as bucky tried to get control over the jet, the engines are down, GPS is lost and you were declining rapidly. but the shots didn't stop and you were both helplessly freefalling inside the coup.

“Under the seat! The parachutes.” bucky shouted as he desperately tried at the gears. Quickly, turning around to look but it came up empty. You checked your surrounding in a frenzy, every place you think, unable to keep yourself steady as you began ascending towards the water.

You must have tripped as you went for a storage container in search of the parachutes because you fell into warm arms before you could hit your head. Looking towards Bucky as he held you, an obvious set of panicked eyes staring down at you.

“There's none.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knotted, settling you on your feet in front of him. Hands still settling onto your shoulder to keep you steady. “What? What do you mean there's none?”

“There are no parachutes, I checked everywhere,” you yelled over the loud sound of systems beeping as they failed, and your mind as it scattered for a plan B.

“What the fuck!” bucky yelled out of frustration.

Another boom and shake, and you were on the ground. Bucky followed with as he ducked, his arms still wrapped around you, even tighter now. Another shot was fired at you and it was clear whoever was behind the fire really wanted you out of the sky. As the shots hit the sides sliding doors. Bucky held onto you so as not to fall, but that gave you an even better idea.

“Do you trust me?” you shouted, eyes glancing towards the familiar comfort of waters.

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” you shout again, making sure to maintain eye contact as you spoke. Bucky let out a heavy exhale, nodding slowly. His brunette hair whipped around as the harsh winds took over.

“Is this going to be reckless?” bucky asked you, even though he was almost certain of your answer.

You didn’t respond, only grabbed harshly at bucky's hand and dragged him towards the edge. Visible fear showed on bucky’s face, reminding you of how he even got to where he was now.

Bucky wasn't going to lie and say being faced with falling dozens of feet, unsure of survival– didn’t scare the sit out of him. Trying to shake the flashes of the water turning into the snowing alps as he stared down, trying to settle his panic.

A warmth took over him suddenly, as you snuck your hand into his, hoping to comfort him. it did. “Hey, bucky. Just look at me, I promise we’ll be okay. Just trust me.”

Hesitantly, Bucky nodded and kept his eyes on you. Gulping down his nerves as you counted down in your head, cursing to yourself because you were supposed to keep him off the ledge, and here you were– ready to jump off it and dragging him down with you.

“Take a deep breath,” you shouted before harshly grabbing him and hurling both of you over and into a free fall into the water.

Bucky's grasp got tighter around you, and yours around him just before the harsh impact of the ocean submerged you both. The familiar feeling of it filling your lungs and surrounding your body, the dark blue depths– the bliss and peace of it all.

Glancing down at the man in your arms, realizing bucky had gone unconscious.

You really regret not teaching him how to swim like you now.

*****

The gentle whispers of waves filled bucky’s ears, his eyes slowly fluttering open as he took in the bright surroundings. A fresh, salty air filled his nose as he breathed– he could practically taste it on his tongue. bucky's head pounded and made him dizzy. The uncomfortable feeling of wet clothing sticking to his skin makes him cringe, slowly rising his head. Bucky noticed your familiar figure in his line of sight.

“What- what? Where are we?” his lungs and throat burned as he spoke, feeling raw as if he had spent the past hours yelling his lungs out. A feeling all too familiar. Slowly, coming to his senses and he noticed the pure amount of blue that filled his surroundings. “Are we–”

“We’re okay, don’t panic,” you reassured him, noticing your wet hair (as it usually is) and that you were stripped of your tactical suit and now only dressed in a full-body wet suit.

Bucky whipped around, feeling the hard surface under him– what looked like to be rocks? In the middle of the ocean? “Where are we?” looking up to only see water, for miles and miles. Seemingly no land in sight besides whatever he and you reside on now.

“We’re on charlie,” you explain simply, sitting across from him.

“What–” bucky’s words are interrupted by the sudden spray of water in front of his face, getting him all wet again. Shouting as he scrambles away from the blow hole, he screaked. “What the fuck!”

You laugh at bucky, with an aggressive confusion playing out on his face, eyes bulging from his head, as he suddenly realizes what he's on– who he's on. The faint sight of a fin the size of a truck waving through the waters. Bucky begins scattered around in a panic. You noticed, and an exaggerated sigh leaves your lips.

“This is Charlie, he's a blue whale,” you state like it makes any goddamn sense to bucky. “He's my friend.”

“And when were you going to tell me you were friends with a goddamn whale?” bucky asks, still taking in the scary yet– incredible, once-in-a-lifetime sight. Bucky can confidently say he's seen and experienced way too many ‘once in a lifetime’ things, but his history says none of them have been good, or at least resulted in good things. But this, he sat on top of a blue whale in the middle of god knows where sea. Bucky couldn’t comprehend it.

You shrug. “It never came up.”

Scoffing, “it never came up.” bucky mocks you, but with no ill intent. his eyes still darting around the whale's back that you both sat on. The water rose up and down, meeting his legs. Bucky's eyes meet yours again, in comparison to bucky you seemed the calmest person in the world. “Seriously, where are we?”

“Uh.” you inhale, looking around at the vast blue like you'd see any indication of where you were. “Definitely northern Atlantic since that's where we fell. I'd say a couple of miles east of the mid Atlantic ridge. I have backup coming soon to figure out.”

Bucky's head tilts. “You got comms out here?”

In the middle of the Atlantic, on a blue whale after you, both doze into the water. Your coms would have gotta damaged in the fall, and if they did still work– there's no way that wherever you two were it would reach anyone.

“Not that kind of backup”

“Please don't tell me you have an orca whale coming to pick us up.” bucky deadpans, what would be a joke but now he's unsure of everything you can do.

The whale below him lets water out of his blow whole again, almost sounding offended, if that's even possible

A mischievous grin grows slowly as you look at bucky, you mumble quietly “no, they're dolphins”

“Dolphins?”

“Hey!” you try to defend yourself, with bucky narrowing his eyes at you. Either disbelief or genuine shock on his face, maybe both, you couldn't tell. “They'll get us to land and then we can call for real backup and make sure Sam and Steve are okay.”

Bucky blinks once, twice, maybe a third time. Almost in a daze, because how the fuck does he end up in this situation unless he’s died and gone to some weird afterlife. Like his crush is going to make him ride dolphins into the afterlife, and if it wasn't for the uncomfortable feeling of his thick clothes and body armor weighing him down. Or the harsh sun beating down on his neck, he'd be convinced.

Under his breath, he mumbled just loud enough for you to hear. “Fucking little mermaid.”

You giggled at the comment. Sometimes Bucky wonders if you are a siren, because every noise you make sounds like music to his ears, slowly pulling him closer towards you. Bucky shifts uncomfortably as your eyes trail up his body, “are you wearing anything that has any grave importance to you?”

Bucky looks down at his attire, a soaked black leather jacket provided by shield. Kevlar, body armor, and cargo pants full of weapons. “Not really, why?”

“I'm sure it weighing you down.” you say, “I’d recommend taking it off, especially when the dolphins come.”

Buckys pretends that sentence doesn't sound absurd, and hesitantly agrees. Slowly beginning to remove his jacket and vest. “Where’d you get the wetsuit, anyways? Did a squid let you borrow his.” bucky jokes, and you smile fondly. Bucky always liked that he could make you smile and light up so easily. Pride never ceases to spread through his chest.

“I wore it under my uniform, just in case.” your fingers run over the dark blue fabric, “glad i did.”

“Wish you would have given me the memo.” Bucky comments, slowly peeling the fabric that stuck to his skin, and attempting to rip off the vest but he begins to physically struggle. Considering the weird position he's in; bucky's sure that Charlie the whale doesn't enjoy having a 6-foot-something super soldier standing up on his back. But Bucky always felt heavier and much more of a burden than he actually was.

You notice him struggling. “Buck, here, let me help.” you slowly scoot over towards bucky. Your surprisingly warm hand reaches his back to undo the zippers and velcro. A shiver goes down his back, hoping you don't notice the abrupt twitch of his neck when you touch him.

You were one of the few people that walk this earth that bucky would even think to let so close to him, your presence always felt familiar, comfortable to him. You being so close just felt natural. Yet, it didn't subdue the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach or the way heat would rise to his face and tint his ears pink.

“How long was I out?” Bucky asks.

“Around 5 hours.” bucky audibly winches at the answer, “I kept you above water before I found charlie. Couldn't have you drowning on me.”

“right.”

“Why do you always call me that by the way?” you ask innocently, you had finished taking off bucky's outer layer of clothing. Leaving him in just a sleeveless tank top, showing off his vibranium arm as the sun highlights it making it shimmer. But bucky doesn't turn around and your hands don’t leave his body.

No– your hands tangle in his hair as you pull back the wet strands that stuck to his forehead and neck. Beginning to pull his hair into a small bun, similar to the one he wore in Wakanda when it began to grow too long for bucky to handle.

“What do you mean?”

“You always call me little mermaid, Sam too,” you explain and bucky's lips quirk up slightly in amusement.

“You know, ariel? You've never seen that Disney movie about the mermaid who gives her voice for legs so she can live on land with prince eric?” bucky summarizes the classic Disney movie, kindly leaving out the fact that Sam made him sit down for 2 days straight to catch up on every Disney princess movie

“No, I have not. And I’m not a mermaid.” you wiggle your feet and knees to make a point, bucky eyes crinkled in adoration at your gesture. “See, I have legs.”

“I thought you were one when we first met, you know.” bucky says without a thought, a sudden calmness carries over his body as your hands are still playing with his hair, the soft sound of the ocean whispering. Everything around him seems so still, so quiet and peaceful.

“What?”

“When I saw you washed up on that beach,” bucky explain. “your hair was a wild mess and you had no clothes besides some seaweed wrapped around your body. Despite everything and the circumstance, I thought you looked so beautiful that you couldn't possibly be human. Sam had bets you were a siren”

Before bucky can even stop himself from rattling on, telling you his vulnerable and real thoughts of your first meeting. It's like his brain and mouth couldn't contain this confession, and when he tells you, your hands stop working at his hair and he picks up the slight hitch in your voice as you freeze. You go quiet and bucky suddenly realizes he might have fucked this all up, and the calmness of the ocean can’t stop the sudden anxiety that makes him shake.

Bucky’s scared to face you– can’t turn around, but he has to see your reaction. Just so he knows whether or not to expect you to leave him on the back of a whale in the middle of the Atlantic. Slowly, he does.

“You think I'm beautiful?” was the first thing that came out of your mouth when bucky sees you. Your voice is full of sincere curiosity and wide eyes. Your face feels warm.

Reluctantly, bucky nods. His mouth feels dry as he speaks. “Yeah.”

You smile, an ease spreads through bucky's body and the calm comes back to him.

“You don't look too bad yourself, sarge.” you say, a tease to your voice that makes bucky dizzy. Struggling to bite back the smile on his face.

Before either of you can speak another word, the high-pitched squeal of 3 dolphins jumping and swimming towards you. The water ripples around them, and what bucky can only describe as screaming in delight as they come to greet you.

Your hand dips down in the water with the most gentle and soft touch he's ever seen as you rub their heads. You listen and watch intently as they began to squeal, grunt, and creak. Bucky scoots closer to you and the dolphins as you begin to nod in a sense of understanding.

“They should get us to the shore of Portugal by 2 or 3 am, which is a long ride if you're okay with that.” you turn to bucky to tell him the plan.

“Not like we have a whole lot of options, doll.” bucky scoffs, looking around at his surroundings. “-Wait, can you understand them?”

“Yes,” you turn your attention back to the three dolphins fighting for your affection like little children, bucky finds it weirdly endearing. “Every animal in the ocean has their own unique language. I cannot mimic most of theirs, but you'd be surprised how many sea creatures understand English or other languages. They are a lot smarter than humans”

Bucky can only stare at you in udder astonishment. You– this gorgeous being you seem to be able to do it all, your kindness and caring as taken you a long way in life that bucky will never understand. And here you are before him, communicating with animals and treating them as if they're your family.

One of the dolphins leaves your attention and maneuvers its way toward Bucky, her head pops out of the water, and looks at him. You watch bucky intently as he hesitates to put his hand near her. Looking towards you for reassurance.

“Go on, she won't bite.” you encourage him. Bucky could never disobey you when you look at him like that. So earnest. So patient.

His hand grazes against her head softly, keeping his movement slow so as to not scare off the creature. Bucky’s so used to being feared and everyone flinching in his presence, it’s until the dolphin squeals in delight he realizes these animals don’t know him like the rest of the world. Only judging based on how they perceive him now, you've always said animals are the best judgment of people.

“She likes you,” you say simply. Bucky looks up towards you, in awe, to see your eyes already on him. Slowly, warmth grows to each of your faces as you shy away at the eye contact. “I'm assuming you don't know how to ride a dolphin, and I don't have time to teach you. So you'll ride with me.”

You begin to maneuver yourself into the water, practically diving in if Bucky could think straight at this moment. You disappear for a moment, which leaves Bucky feeling way too alone and vulnerable in the vast openness of the ocean. Knowing there were miles and miles under him of things he'd never seen before, possible threats, and obviously possible allies as he looks at the dolphins in front of him.

Makes Bucky realize how much safety and pure comfort he confides in you. That scares him more than anything, but also makes him feel lighter in the chest. Make his heart beat a little quicker.

Slowly, you arise from the water with your hair all wet again and slick back. You've now planted yourself onto one of the dolphin's backs, gesturing towards the small spot behind you. Assuming it was for him.

Bucky recoils slightly, not out of fear or disgust. He is just hesitant, everything is so crazy and new to him and he's still grasping the fact you have befriended a whale. So wrapped up in his own head he misses the way your face drops, looking down. Insecurity grew through your body.

“You think I'm crazy.” you ask, but it comes out more as a statement, and bucky's brain scrambles to correct you.

“What? No! No– never, I'd never think that of you. Never, y/n.” bucky rattles on, shaking his head. “This is just– so new and scary to me.”

You exhale, “sorry.” you force out a smile, and slide off the dolphin and swim towards him. beginning to walk through what bucky needs to do. “Just get in the water, it's okay– no harm. And she’ll go under you and just lift you, simple and easy. You can do it, promise.”

“Okay,” bucky breathes out shakily. Getting absolutely lost in your gentle encouragement from you, lighting a fire in bucky that makes him feel a little more sure of himself. Yet, still, Bucky hesitates as he slowly lowers himself off the whale and settles himself in the surprisingly warm water. Bucky looks up and sees that he needs to hurry as the sun starts to go down.

“Woah!” Bucky is taken aback when the animal maneuvers herself between bucky’s legs and lifts him up, almost losing his balance as he leans back. Quickly attempting to balance himself on her fin, your hand latches onto his thigh in some sort of assistance. It only makes bucky feel dizzier.

“Good job.” you beam up at him and, bucky warms at the praise, “scoot back a bit, please.”

Bucky obeys and you swiftly lift yourself and settle between his thighs. Bucky’s sure his face is beet red now, with you settling in between him and your back to his chest. His brain practically turns to mush as he has to bring himself back down to earth from the abrupt closeness.

“You sure she can handle both of our weights for that long.” bucky asks, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

“Don't like this?” you ask, a vague question, but bucky understands what you mean. “I can-”

“No! No, I'm okay!” no, he's definitely not.

You laugh lightheartedly and bucky swears he must be dead, he can't see your face but he can picture your bright smile and the way your eyes crinkle up at the sides. “Yes, you would be surprised by how strong they are for their size.”

Bucky hums in response, suddenly he's unsure of where to put his hands. Settling on resting them on his thighs, but he's gravely unbalanced like this– especially if he’ll be moving in the water.

“Uh.” your body tenses slightly, “you can– um, just put your arms around me, okay? we’ll be going quite fast and I really don't want to lose you, so get a good grip.”

Hesitantly, bucky wraps his arms securely around your waist. Tight. Your back pressed against his chest, even closer now.

“yeah, like that…” your voice is quiet now, sounding almost flustered.

Your face begins to grow hot, and the tips of your ears turn red. Adjusting yourself, trying not to squirm too much while you sat between bucky's legs. Your more than sure the dolphins can feel the weird sexual tension between the two of you, god– bucky can practically taste it by how strong it is in the air. “Hold on, tight though. I’m serious, if you fall it's your own fault.”

Bucky laughs at the snark in your voice, while knowing you are fully fucking serious. His grip tightens and you attempt to hide the hitch in your breath when he does.

The dolphin begins to swim, speeding away from the whale with her two buddies by her side. Bucky's head turns slightly to see the whale starting to lower itself back into the deep ocean. Utterly astonished by the sight, he must be in a dream.

“You okay?” you check up on bucky. the dolphins bob up and down in the water, conscious of the fact bucky was riding and could not, in fact, breathe under water like you. bucky watched in awe at the ripples of waves behind him. it's so rawly beautiful.

“Yeah, very okay.” bucky replies in an almost dazed sight. You grin in pride. “This is quite therapeutic, actually. Why haven't we done this before.”

The familiar sweet laughter fills bucky’s ears, “I don't know, I'll make time in my schedule to do this later with you.”

Later. With you.

Bucky beams at the statement, excited that there will be a later, and you with him. God– he could shout out in joy. And bucky begins to understand why you spend most of your time at the bottom of the compound pools, or excusing yourself on your free weekends to the coastlines. The pure calm and peace he feels in his body make him dizzy, and it's not all because of you. Bucky feels weightless and an ease he hasn't felt since his childhood. Out here his history is unknown and he is nothing except who he is now, which according to the dolphins. Is a good man.

Bucky feels like a good man for the first time in decades. Out here, just with you.

The slight breeze blows through his damp hair, the warmth radiates off your body. Bucky sees nothing but blue for miles and miles until it meets the horizon and he can still taste the saltiness in the air.

Bucky doesn't remember beginning to slack against your body, dropping his head on your shoulder. He doesn't remember the weight of his eyelids, just for them to eventually close and bucky sure doesn't remember falling asleep, pressed close to your body as he glides through the Atlantic.

But he awakes and the night sky had turned to dark, slowly fluttering his eyes up and rising his head away from the crook of your neck.

Bucky also realizes this is the most he's slept with no nightmares or memories of the soldier plaguing his mind, no– he woke up peacefully. No jolting awake with a dry throat from screaming and muttering Russian phrases under his breath. He wasn't coated with his own sweat from panicking, just the salt water.

He woke up with you in his arms.

“You awake, sleepyhead?” you say, and bucky begins to regain all his senses when he shakes the sleepiness from his body. His arms were still securely wrapped around your waist, and bucky would be dammed if he ever tried to let go.

“I didn't mean to fall asleep.” he says honestly, “sorry.”

“Don't apologize, you slept through most of the ride. We should be close enough to the shoreline soon.” you say, “though you missed some very confused crew ship members.”

“That going to be a problem?” bucky laughs to himself at the thought of a ship full of workers looking down to see a pack of dolphins, only to find two agents sailing across the Atlantic on their backs.

“No.” you laugh. “You snore in your sleep by the way.”

“Shit– I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize.“ you repeat again, “I'm just glad you're getting some good sleep, and your snores are kinda cute.”

“Shut up.” bucky replies, flustered. But secretly he was glad he’d slept peacefully, with you.

“Hey,” you quietly call to his attention, bucky’s head perks up and he hums in acknowledgment. “Look at the sky, the best view in the world.”

Bucky's head tilts up and his breath gets caught in his throat.

The sky was decorated with the brightest array of stars, shining down on them and lighting up the midnight sky. Bucky can notice a few of the constellations that painted the dark sky. It's one of the most beautiful sights he’s seen in his life and it leaves him breathless.

And then he looks back down at you and can't help be choke up a little.

“Thank you,” Bucky says like it's the easiest thing in the world.

Your eyebrows furrow, your hands still wrapped around the fin in front of you, leaning forward slightly. “Why are you thanking me?”

“I don’t know.” bucky replies honestly. Despite the circumstance, it's easy to ignore them because of the fact he's seen beautiful things today. Felt things he'd never even known of, and all because of you. “I just– I feel good, you make me feel good. You always have, but now, I've never felt like this before, so free and secure.”

Your place one hand on his, gently squeezing it. Bucky wishes he could see the giddy smile on your face as you grow flustered at his words. “I’m happy I make you feel like that, and you make me feel good too. Since the day I met you, I think I found a sense of unexplainable comfort in you.”

Neither you nor Bucky has ever felt this vulnerable with each other, but it's hard to feel any sense of burden out here. Hell– Bucky would learn to live out here and run (or swim, I guess) away with you forever if he could continue to feel like this for the rest of his life.

Bucky also realizes Ariel was a fool for giving that up for a silly prince.

“So, I have a question. Can I ask you a question?” bucky speaks.

“Shoot.”

“You've never been very clear on your, um, abilities.” he starts, “I always thought you could just manipulate water, but it seems to be much more now. So what is it?”

You hum, thinking to yourself. “I don't know, honestly. I can't remember anything except the sea. I know the water was there for me as it always has been, the way of the water is there for us before birth and long after death. It takes, and it gives whatever it wants. It's the most powerful thing on earth and it's all I've known. The ways took a liking to me, it claimed me and it's very protective. I can't control water per se, it just listens to me– obeys most of the time.”

“So you don't remember anything of your life before, did you even have one?” bucky asks sincerely. Genuinely astonished by the information he was receiving, realizing how powerful of a person you were.

Bucky can understand why the water chose you. Considering everything, you were the kindest, most sincere, and most caring person he's met. You have an effect on everyone you've interacted with, you're headstrong and slightly stubborn. But forgiving and understanding, something too forgiving in Bucky's opinion. Always there for him, from the very beginning and even after you began to learn of his past

“I don't think so, but I don't remember being fully conscious when I was in the water. Like a baby in a mother's stomach, and it's like I woke up when I washed up on that beach.”

“I'm sure it was scary,” bucky comments.

You laugh, “very. But you were there, and I always felt a weird pull toward you. Like I'd be safe with you.”

Bucky's breath hitched for the millionth time now, he's lost count. Something– a confession of sorts, a tell of his feelings are on the tip of his tongue. He opens his mouth to speak but it is quickly cut off by the shrill of the dolphins. He looks up and Bucky can barely tell in the dark, but the shores of Portugal stood in front of them. An open, empty beach.

“We’re gonna have to swim from here,” you say. the dolphins begin to slow and the water piles near his legs, rising up to Bucky's waist. “That okay?”

You earn a hum in response, and slowly the dolphin comes to a full stop and floats for a moment. You swiftly maneuver yourself out of bucky's grasp, out of between his thighs, and into the water. Bucky feels entirely too empty and cold, without you're heat and touch– bucky's body feels wrong.

“Come on.” you whisper, “follow me, okay?”

Nodding, Bucky manuvers off the dolphin and drops himself fully into the water. You begin the spew out a plethora of ‘thank yous’ and ‘see you soon’ to the now lone dolphin, she squeaks in joy when you rub her nose and head. Bucky can't help but watch, lovesickness dripping from his face. Before tailing it and leaving you and bucky alone in the water, his boots touch the sand beneath him, the water stopping at his shoulders.

Your hands grab at bucky’s, and suddenly the warmth spread through him again. He grins subconsciously and pulls himself closer to you as you both make your way toward the shore.

Bucky wished for anything more than the bliss calm of the ocean to be ripped from him, these quiet moments where it's just you and him. But he needs to call in, make sure Sam and Steve are okay, and let everyone know that you and he are, in fact, alive.

The feeling of stepping on dry sand comes, and water drips rapidly from both of you as you step out of the crashing waves. A few straggled seaweed dragged from both of your feet, looking like fish out of water. Bucky's partially thankful for the fact it's night and the seemingly touristy beaches are empty, he's unsure of how people would reach seeing you two arise from the water. He can imagine it would be pretty scary.

“There's a 24-hour convenience store down the road, we’ll call in from there,” you explain, bucky nods. He begins to feel the weight and burdens settle low in his stomach and high on his shoulders again. Unaware of the fact his hand was still tucked securely in yours, at least that gave him some sense of comfort as you practically dragged him towards the corner store.

“You think Sam and Steve are okay?” Bucky is afraid to ask, afraid that if he even speaks of their well-being out loud, his horrible suspicions would come true. They didn't have a girl that could beckon for whales and dolphins as bucky did.

You squeeze bucky's hand, bringing him back down from losing himself in his head of worries. “Yeah, Charlie asked the others in the area if there’d been any plane crashes beside us. None of them heard or saw anything, so that's a good sign.”

Bucky can't hold back the chuckle in his throat, you step falter to look up at him. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.'' Bucky shakes his head, full of adoration as he looks at you, but doesn't leave. “You're just– you're amazing.”

“I try.” you begin to step forward again but bucky tugs you back to your place, a surge of happiness and confidence rushing through his veins.

“No,” he states, and you stop in front of him. Your bodies and faces are incredibly close now. So close bucky can practically feel you're breath on his chin on this cool Portuguese night. “I mean it, you are amazing.”

Bucky states like it’s a fact– and to him, it is. He’s never been so sure of anything in his whole overextended, fucked up life.

You grow flustered at his reassurance, beaming at his validation. Bucky's hand burns in yours, a good burn. One you couldn't– wouldn’t pull away from if you had to. You're sure Bucky's super soldier hearing can pick up your heart racing as he brings his free hand to your face. Gently cradling your cheek in his palm, you lean into it.

“I'm not good with words, doll.” bucky breathes out, like a confession. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod almost instantly, “please,”

Bucky obeys, he was never able to say no to you anyways. Pulling you in so incredibly close and slanting his lips against yours. He can taste the salt on your lips, feeling the entire weight of the ocean in your touch. Bucky feels the calm and stillness of the water as he moves against you, your noses touching. Bucky feels breathless like he might drown. He begins to contemplate if you really are a siren.

Your lips are softer than bucky imagined, he wasn't going to lie to himself and say he's never thought about doing this. The amount of times proximity has been forced upon you two and bucky’s almost thrown out everything and just leaned into your touch. Bucky imagined you’d be a good kisser, but now it's real and it's happening.

The sweet kiss doesn't last too long, they are still two agents on a mission. Bucky pulls away at a painfully slow pace, leaving you to chase after his touch. You two stand breathless, damp, and a little sandy in the middle of a Portugal street. And you realize you wouldn't want it any other way.

Gulping down your nerves, and swiping your tongue across your lips. A nervous smile painted your face, “let's go, we should really call in.”

“Yeah.” bucky repeats, still in a half daze as you two continue towards the only lit store near.

Bells jingle above as bucky swings open the glass door, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights. Looking towards the counter as a sleepy man hunches over, reading the newspaper. His head perks up toward the two of you, looking at you two as if you grew a second head.

The man speaks up in Portuguese, something you don't understand, but bucky does. Hydra put as many languages in his head as they could, anything for a mission to go smoothly. Walking towards the counter with a squeak in his step as bucky began to ask for a phone.

Grumbling under his breath as the man waddles around in the back, pulling out a flip phone and handing it to bucky as he began to type in the digits. On the other line, “hello, this is Blanca bakery, how may we serve you?” a woman's voice speaks through.

“Baklava” bucky mutters the code word, as the line quiets and clicks to a new one. Tapping his foot impatiently as brown noise plays from the end before it goes silent again.

“Name.” an agent speaks plainly.

Bucky clears his throat, stiffening his back like he would when speaking to someone of authority. “Agent 39, agent 104. James Barnes and y/n”

The line quiets again, and soon a very angry and concerned Maria Hill enters the line. “James, what the hell happened? Are you two okay?”

“We’re alive, I don't have time to explain it over the phone.” bucky starts, glancing towards you as you shift in your spot. “Did Steve and Sam make it?”

“They're okay and back at the compound, I traced the phone, I’m not even going to ask how you got to Portugal.” Maria sighs, “the jets will be out to your location soon, ETA 40 minutes.”

Bucky replies quickly and the line falls silent again. Handing the phone back to the man, he grumbles something under his breath in Portuguese and bucky nods his head in thanks. Turning back to you, taking you hand in hand with no thought, bucky begins to drag you out of the store.

“40 minutes, the beach,” he says, vaguely, but you know what it means. Squeezing his hand gently as he leads you back down to the sand. Not missing the small grin on his face when you do so.

It doesn't take long for you to settle next to Bucky on some random washed-up log, your thighs lining against each other, warming each of you enough. Your head drops on bucky’s shoulder, he relaxes under your touch.

You hum as you grab at bucky's hand, uncurling his finger and setting something in his palm. Bucky looks down in confusion, “what?”

His eyes widen at the sight of the large, shiny pearl in his palm. The moonlight reflected off the milky color, making it shine slightly. It's from you– the ocean, it looks like it belongs in an expensive jewelry shop, a museum, anywhere but bucky’s hand. You smack your lips, “think of it as an offering.”

“Why?” Bucky rolls the pearl around his hand, staring in awe before turning to you.

Your finger nudges at the pearl, feeling it under your skin as you lean closer to bucky’s warmth. “Pearls represent everlasting love, before birth and after death. They represent that fact of the water. I think you deserve that.”

The soft breeze lifts bucky's hair, sending a chill down his spine. His mind sputters for a response as he looks at you, in a daze. Instead, he trades words for a small kiss at the crown of your head. You soak up his touch.

“Thank you.” bucky settles on, “you deserve that too, I hope I can give that to you.”

You beam up at him, before settling close against him again. Letting yourself begin to drift off into sleep on his shoulder with the heavy knowledge of bucky's confession in your head. You're smiling when you fall asleep.

Bucky breaths softly, the calm still present deep in him. Because somehow you've drowned bucky without him realizing it, and he's more than happy to sink deeper as long as he’s with you. You– his calm, his anchor, his pearl, his ocean, his everything. The one who saw him for nothing except the good man he's trying to desperately to be, for you. And the one who constantly proves it to him, showing he is capable of love and all things good. Capable of being himself and at ease, even if it only lies in the middle of the Atlantic on the back of a blue whale. As long as he had you, Bucky would feel that again, feel okay.

As he waited for the jet, he continued to roll the precious pearl around in his hand. Losing himself in the soft sounds of your breath mixed with the peaceful sound of waves crashing against the sand, the taste of your lips and the salty water linger in his mouth.

Bucky knows and understands, that for the first time in 70 years, he’ll be okay.

#bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan #seb stan

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kimboo-york · 1 month

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A Short Treatise on Madam Yu

This is all about Madam Yu as represented in my fic The Bastards of Yunmeng, not canon!

Okay, first off, I need to make clear that I am not a Madam Yu respecter. I loathe the character, probably for very personal reasons. If Madam Yu is your babygirl, I’m sorry, this is not the meta for you.

WARNING: If you have not read up through chapter 11 of the fic, this meta is super spoilery!

This meta is not particularly spoilery for The Bastards of Yunmeng past chapter 11, but does have some information about characters that will become important later on. So, the usual warning about spoilers are in place here.

Read at your own risk, yada yada yada…

Importantly, nothing that happens in this story is meant to redeem Madam Yu. My personal headcanon is that she was a narcissist and unable to genuinely, selflessly love other people, and that is how I’ve written her here. She was in a very unhappy situation, but also she was simply not a good person overall, IMHO. It is interesting to consider if she was born that way or corrupted by circumstances, sure, but in the end, she was who she was. You can slap whatever diagnostic labels on her you want, I’m just saying she was toxic. Some people found that out later rather than sooner.

Honestly, I don’t know the specifics of how her affair with Wei Changze (and, very likely, Cangse Sanren) came about. What I DO know, however:

Jiang Fengman is sterile. She figured that out pretty quickly and took steps. This might be her villain origin story, actually; the only reason she was married off to him was to produce heirs, and so she had to do that no matter the risks. That Wei Changze was a cousin of Jiang Fengman’s and a strong cultivator in his own right made him a very attractive option, as any child of his would at least look like a Jiang.

Wei Changze is a complicated character in this story, but he’s also dead and cannot answer for himself. But here are a few important points: a) He did NOT cheat on his beloved wife. Not sure how that all went down, but it was consensual for all involved. I’m pretty sure Yanli was conceived before WCZ and CS officially got together, anyway. How Jiang Cheng happened, I’m not sure, but there was NO cheating. Well, aside from WCZ cuckolding JFM. I know this doesn’t paint Wei Changze in the best light, but what we know of Wei Wuxian is that he sometimes made outrageously dumb decisions with the best of intentions. (Maybe it’s genetic?) Personally I suspect he always disliked Jiang Fengman, though I’m not sure why. b) Also, I believe that when she was younger, before the bitterness and resentment took over, Madam Yu was very good at manipulating people (as many narcissists are). Yunmeng Jiang needed an heir and she was going to get it done. Anyway, I can’t say if Madam Yu seduced both CS and WCZ or convinced CS to share or what, but consent was given.

Madam Yu’s rage against Wei Ying had a lot more to do with her fear that a direct comparison to her son would reveal her secrets than with the rumors that he was JFM’s bastard.

I’m pretty sure that her feelings for Cangse Sanren were obsessive in nature, flipping from love to hate once she realized that CS well and truly had everything that she never would, including both WCZ and freedom. This definitely played into her hatred of WWX.

Why did she keep the letters? Because I’ve written her as a narcissist, and if there is one thing narcissists believe, it is that they are smarter than everyone around them and that rules don’t apply to them. She wanted to keep the letters, so she did. To be fair, they would never have been discovered if not for a freak lightning strike/fire in her quarters while she was away from Lotus Pier. Bad, bad luck.

I did toy with making Jiang Cheng’s father Wen Zhuliu, but I really wanted to bind the children closer together and I think that would have made JC feel isolated and left out instead. (I will maybe someday write the story of him being WZL’s son and inheriting his core-melting abilities, but that’s not this story.)

In Madam Yu’s favor, she offered to submit to her imprisonment and execution without a fight and make no attempts to escape if Jiang Fengman would at least let her children go free. He agreed, which is what led to their being immediately cast out rather than imprisoned. Would he have had them killed, eventually? I honestly don’t think so, but he might have sold them off or something.

Jiang Fengman offered Jinzhu and Yinzhu the option to return to Meishan in disgrace, but they declined and demanded to be executed along with their mistress as a point of pride. Yanli will find this out eventually, but it's not really important to the plot.

#kimboo's musings #Bastards of Yunmeng #Madam Yu #Yu Ziyuan #fanfiction meta #character meta #spoilery

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stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 2 months

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HIII HI HI MAC!! IN UR INBOX. BEING ANNOYING. hope ur havin a good nighttttt <33 ^__^ i still haven't gotten past the gang leaving to find the other two missing folks in episode 36 yet. but ohhhh i fucking. Have Thoughts!!!!

>what is the deal with the "everyone evacuated instantly left in the middle of what they were doing" thing. was it. deadwood shit [tm]? the trickster? some hero doing crazy unethical but very efficient mass mind control to get everyone to leave quickly?

>shaking the trickster up and down putting him in the FUCKING paint mixer. what does he WANT? what does he want! i still don't understand this. obviously he escaped from the chaos realm and is delighting in causing as Many Problems As Possible (maliciously) but. why!! is it just the chaos realm driving u crazy bonkers regardless of who u originally were when u went in? he is. obviously. not happy. but also doesn't necessarily read as intentionally evil in the same way, like, mal does. was it originally Intended to be superhell or was that just something that happened after the array were deposed? also what was the original intent of ashe's book... was it the whisperer's? or a member of the array? welll-- maybe not the whisperer's, since it can summon duck. but. it's really just like a phonebook for creatures in the spirit realm (another point towards what was the trickster originally??). how did ashe Get It?

>genuinely this whole time i am so stressed and terrified for william wisp. he is power level LOWER THAN AN ALLIGATOR he is just a real boy now!! among all these superheroes who could crush him into paste regardless of the chainsaw and the shotgun. he is. eighteen. i'm so fucking dreading the confrontation with the trickster being smart and full of self loathing doesn't protect u from the trickster's big epic meat fist!!

>my prediction for the last mission they're going on is it's gonna be some freaky deadwood demon shit. the little girl was trickster stuff the other guy was chaos demon possession. i think this one is some good old-fashioned haunted town bullshit. i'll come check back in on this one in a couple hours hehehe.

>around every corner i'm like MARK??? IS HE HERE??? WHERE IS HE. i can't wait for him to appear.... i love u mark winters u suck so bad.. i hope he doesn't have to big participate in the trickster confrontation. well. for his sake i don't for my sake i hope he Does because that would suck SO bad for him <333

ok ok that's it for now i think. still insane over dakota's posession moment. hey remember when i wrote like 7k over him freaking out about the Thing In Him? ok ok BYE going to put the gort to beddddd. will b back in several business hours to liveblog the rest of 36 & u can laugh at mee ^__^

HIIIIIII YAYY YAYY YIPPEEEE I LOVE WHEN MY FRIENDS ARE ANNOYING IN MY INBOX !!!!!!!!

I am having a good night look at this card I made for my intern (her last day is tomorrow 🥲)

(gift card and note emitted for obvious reasons)

I LOOOOOVE YOUR THOUGHTSSS EHEHE dude im sooooo excited for u to see the end there's so many things I cannot wait to get your opinion on >:]c specifically not commenting on Some Of This for Reasons but I am sooooo entertained hehehehehehe

I ALSO WANT TO KNOW HOW ASHE GOT THE BOOK SO BAD. THATS SOMETHING WE DONT KNOW YET. yakko please I want your boys backstory nowwwwww !!!!!! CRYING @ THE TRICKSTERS EPIC HUGE MEAT FIST. YEAH. fuck this not-ghost-boy in particular. I'm sure they'll figure something out :)

mark is! somewhere! don't worry about it! he told dakota he was gonna be there he'll show up. probably..don't worry about it!

IM ALSO REALLY CRAZY ABT DAKOTA GETTING POSSESSED DUDE..... I think abt it a lot. i think abt it soooo much. I ALSO THINK ABOUT YOUR FIC SO MUCH when i was readinf that I was like. ohhhhh they're gonna make this so much worse when they Learn Things..... prime traumatic stress defenders!!!!!!!!

#AWESOMEEEEEEE AWESOME AWESOME #biting @ the bars of my cage j cant wait i cant wait i cant wait. microscope zooming in on all of ur reactions forever #i cannot WAITTTTT for your thoughts. i have so many #also theres a lot of things in this last bit that i cant wait 2 discuss in terms of. nhw :]#asks #friends!!!#intertexts

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x3no9 · 10 months

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For those who have been watching me from the start...

I didn't even know how to sketch stick figures three months ago, then I got inspired by some artists here to try it out. I am a writer (not saying I am good lol) but I have always yearned to draw. So I stayed up day, night, and even during work breaks, teaching myself on paper and an ipad.

The first couple of weeks started out badly, mostly due to my self-loathing. I watched a couple of videos and asked @eyecandyeoz and @judithmactir for pointers. I was moving into my next phase of improvement. Up until last week, things sort of plateaued for me as far as skills. So I tried speed painting and sketching, just letting loose basically. (obviously didn't post any of that here)

Next, I played around with rendering. Since the videos do NOT help me with how to render, I just guessed. Wasn't happy though, so I started using ADOBE In-design four days ago. I use it in ADDITION to Procreate.

So now I sketch and color layers in Procreate, run it through FOTOR with a basic prompt or two using my actual work. It ALWAYS come out weird, but I am not trying to use AI to change my style. This IS the style I have always wanted, but the polished rendering just isn't fully in my skillset yet.

Personally, I find AI to be very helpful, as long as I don't just go with what it gives me. I spend just as long on the "run through" image as I do on the whole process of imagining and drawing it out. Even the latest stuff I posted, wasn't completely finished. I go back and draw all over again.

The reason for this post is to hopefully clarify that my art is NOT AI. I am treating it like an extra tool in the box, like a paintbrush I haven't found yet in Procreate. I hope I didn't upset anyone using some AI in the mid-process, then going over it again by hand. Now that's out of the way, I have a lot to share and am very excited to hear what everyone thinks! CHEERS!

#disclaimer of sorts #thank you for your support #update on my art

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cannedbeefaroni · 2 years

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Why Didn’t You Stop Me? (Edward Nashton x Reader) (Angst)

This is part 1/2. Part 2 heavily contains smut. Read part 2 here

Summary: (Y/N) takes on a villainous altar ego after a severe mental break that leads to murder. An old friend pays a visit after seeing what she’s been getting up to.

Content: VAGUE DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND MURDER, BREAKING AND ENTERING, VAGUE MENTION OF A SHARP WEAPON DRAWING BLOOD, VAGUE MENTION OF ABUSE/CHILD ABUSE, DEPRESSION, PARANOIA, SELF LOATHING, CODEPENDENCY, (Y/N) CRIES A LOT

(Y/N) is referred to as she/her

I look for a picture of you to

Keep in my pocket

But I can’t seem to find one

Where you look how I remember

How long has it been since (Y/N) was in love? She’d be lying if she said she couldn’t remember, but she preferred to not think about it too much. The last person she was with fell off the face of the earth one day and left her wondering what she did wrong. Yes, she wanted a new partner, but after everything that’s happened to her, she has more to think about.

She killed a man. Plain and simple.

If her childhood and adolescent trauma weren’t enough, now she had another reason to seek psychiatric help. No one knew she did it. She had no idea how she got that lucky, but she didn’t know whether to be relieved or ashamed. She felt bad, but did she regret what she did? No. Fucker had it coming. She couldn’t count how many times she had called CPS on him. They never did anything. He was beating the shit out of his wife and kids. Even when she reported him to her boss, they did nothing. She saw the beatings in real time. She stalked him for weeks. Hell, she even recorded it. But when she came forth with evidence, she was the one charged for recording his family without permission. This world was corrupt. She had to do something.

It wasn’t her fault she was there that night, throwing out a broken paper cutter machine; and there he was, walking through the pitch black alleyway. She had a massive blade. She didn’t know if there was a higher being, but she believed she was there for a reason. She had no choice. She had to slice his fucking head off. Sure, maybe dismembering the body, and arranging the body parts and organs into a well designed display for the bastard cops to see was too far. But maybe she was just elated, finally feeling like she was on earth for a reason.

Ever since that night she decided she was done pretending to be like everyone else. She became cold and isolated to everyone she knew, and became a complete shut-in; except for when she’d go out at night. Finally being freed from her own mental shackles, she decided to finally pursue what she really loved: art. The idea of her being an artist was shot down so many times in her early life, she never even considered it in adulthood. But now, she could use it as a weapon. She’d go around rich neighborhoods and important figures' houses to destroy them. She’d graffiti, smash windows, throw rotten eggs, and do whatever vile things she could think of to their property.

Tonight, she was on her way home from a night out. She wore a painter’s filtration mask to keep her identity hidden. She stumbled around, exhausted. She was a mess; physically and emotionally. All of her thoughts were assaulting her head, and she sat on the ground on the sidewalk to compose herself, if only a little. She pulled a spraypaint can out of her bag, staring at the label. She wondered how people managed to get high off aerosol containers. If she could figure out how to do it, maybe it would help her feel less shitty. After pulling her mask down, she instantly regretted her decision as she spray painted the inside of her nose; and possibly her trachea, windpipe, and lungs. So, she threw the can aside and decided to just curl up and sob.

Suddenly, she heard the footsteps of an approaching figure, and jolted up. They sounded close, but when she turned around, she saw a figure directly behind her back. She froze in terror, as they appeared to be some kind of masked thug. In this city, those were a dime a dozen, but she had been really good so far at avoiding them. She stared for a moment before realizing her mask off, and this stranger had seen her entire face. She bolted as fast as she could down the street. No idea where to go, but she just had to run. Not bothering to even look behind, she ran into a subway and hopped on a random train that was about to depart. She sighed a breath of relief as she realized that person hadn’t followed her on.

She spent the rest of the night on various trains, trying to find her way home. If that creepy person had been following her, they must have gotten sick of her spending all night going nowhere. When she finally got back to her apartment, she threw herself onto her couch, filthy and decrepit. She didn’t care what day or time it was, she just wanted to sleep forever. Maybe dream about a better life for a few hours.

Days passed as she returned to her usual routine, which only consisted of going to work for nothing but a paycheck, and sleeping. She held off on the nights out for a bit after becoming increasingly paranoid. She wondered if maybe she should quit and pursue a normal life; maybe settle down and marry somebody so she won't have to be so alone. She thought back to her past relationships of disappointments, especially the last one before she gave up on love. Everything was going so well, but he just disappeared without saying a word. She thought maybe he died, and somehow his death wasn’t on record. But the conclusion she couldn’t help but arrive at was that he abandoned her. She’d rather die than ever have to experience that feeling ever again.

Every time she left the house she got the uneasy feeling that someone was following her, but she chalked it up to her paranoia. She couldn’t help but think that masked thug from the other night was stalking her. She thought about it constantly, and wondered what they could possibly want with her. She worried they were somehow related to the guy she killed, and they’re now out to get her. Sitting in the break room at her job, she stared at the wood grain on the table, going through horrifying possible scenarios in her head. Everyone else in the room ignored her, watching the news on the television. Randomly, she looked up at the screen, wondering what was catching their interest.

News anchors were discussing some new criminal whose picture was on the left of the screen. It was all too familiar. The freaky green mask with glasses atop, and wide eyes with impossibly dilated pupils. He was the one who saw her. And he’s apparently a major threat to society. She couldn’t even pay attention to the broadcast as she lost her shit internally.

Was this her punishment? Was she going to die?

Days passed of intense paranoia. Every step she took outside the house felt like a countdown to her demise. She could barely function at her job and almost completely lost her appetite. She couldn’t understand why she was so afraid to die. Maybe she’d rather have her own say in how she leaves the world. She beat herself up over not foreseeing this: being entangled with dangerous people. There was never a chance she could just discreetly become a criminal without ever having to pay a price.

In the middle of the night, she laid on her bed over the covers, just to stare at the ceiling. Not much went through her head, only vague dark ideas. She was exhausted beyond belief, wishing she could just fall asleep for once and not lay awake for hours. She tried reading, drawing, even just scrolling mindlessly on her phone, but she couldn’t focus on anything.

Suddenly, she heard fumbling outside her window.

She laid, completely frozen in place. Her apartment window had a fire escape, and it sounded like someone was climbing it. She wanted to scream and cry, but her body remained dormant. As the sounds grew louder, she slowly dragged herself out of bed, checking if the window was locked. Figuring a window wouldn’t stop them, she creeped over to a cabinet to retrieve a large kitchen knife. It was dull from use, but she figured it could still work to some extent.

She wondered if it were best to just leave her apartment, but before she could think about it she heard the window lock click.

A person was crawling inside, caught behind the curtains. She held the knife tightly as she held her breath, shaking violently. As he got mostly inside, she finally mustered up the courage to attack, running to the figure and plunging the knife against their back. Her stabbing was too weak, and it ended up only plunging through the coat and cutting along their skin, eliciting a deep, guttural scream. She screamed as well, mortified at what they might have planned for her. She jumped backward, trying to get as far away as she could.

The figure stood up, holding their bleeding shoulder, hunched over. As (Y/N) suspected, it was the same masked thug from that night. They stared into her eyes with the same dilated pupils, making her wonder if they were high on something, or were just naturally that scary. She held her knife, waiting for their next move as they stood panting in pain.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH,” they yelled, voice muffled.

“WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT?” She screamed back, nearly shrieking as she tried to make herself scarier.

“Trust me, you already know who I am,” they sneered. “I’m someone you forgot a LONG time ago. But don't worry, I’m certain you’ve heard of me now.” Their voice fluctuated between screaming and quiet jeering. They lifted themself up, towering over her.

“Y-you’re some criminal from the news… I guess? A killer?” She engaged with him out of morbid curiosity, but she knew it was stupid to do. For some reason, there was something deep inside her wanting to know more about this person.

“Playing dumb gets you nowhere, sweetie. Everyone’s heard of The Riddler by now…”

“Uh… okay… w-was that what you called yourself?” she asked. She genuinely thought she never heard that name before. That news broadcast she saw once was a blur in her memory.

“I forgot how dumb you were…” he scoffed. “Another pretty face with no brain behind it. Typical.”

“W-why are you calling me pretty?” she understood him calling her dumb, but the pretty part confused her. She felt embarrassed getting flustered at the backhanded compliment.

“Because, darling, ever since I saw you that night, I couldn’t help but wonder: what was a pretty girl doing out on the streets in the middle of the night, huffing paint?” He slowly paced closer to her, laughing.

Every part of (Y/N)’s head was telling her to run out of the apartment and get help, but for some reason she was captivated by his presence. Even though she knew this man was dangerous, him speaking the word ‘pretty’ rang through her ears and drove her insane. Besides that, she worried that making a run for it would only put her in more danger if he could catch her; so she ended up staying in place, allowing him to get ever so slightly closer.

“You’re not one to judge what I do.” she responded coldly.

“It takes one to know one, sweetheart. I know you’re doing bad things. You can’t hide it from me. I’ve seen you smash windows, and paint beautiful murals of death and decay on those disgusting bourgeois mansions. You need to stop acting innocent.”

She couldn’t tell whether he was tearing her down or praising her. She hung on every positive word he used toward her, even though she felt incredibly patronized.

“I’m not like you…” she chewed on her lip, face growing hotter from either anger or embarrassment.

“I know you think you’re better than me. You look at me and feel grateful that you’re not as disgusting. You’re just as bad. You’re fucked up but you won’t even admit it. You’d rather play businesswoman all day and keep your dirty secrets in the shadows like a liar.” he circled around her, spitting out the words cruelly.

“I’m horrible…” her voice cracked, staring at the floor as tears pooled in her eyes.

“Oh great, now you admit it and feel sorry for yourself. It’s pathetic. You don’t even know you could have it so much worse. Why don’t you go run to your boyfriend and cry about how terrible you feel?”

“What…? I-I don’t even have a boyfriend!” she snapped, confused at where that even came from.

“Please, you could easily get one if you wanted. It doesn't matter,” he scoffed.

“I’ve been trying for six years!” she screamed. A dead silence rang out. “I tried so hard… b-but ever since my last boyfriend just… disappeared… I can’t move on. I want him back… I want him back so bad. But it doesn’t matter if he came back, he’d never want me again... I’ve ruined myself. I’m a monster. No one will ever want me again!” She whined desperately and heaved. She dropped the knife to the floor and covered her face with her hands.

“What did you do?” he spoke after moments of silence.

“I can’t say,” she rubbed her puffy eyes.

“You’re becoming like me, aren’t you?”

“No! I won’t, I can’t! I don’t wanna do it ever again!” she cried out.

“I can tell you killed someone just by how you’re reacting, sweetheart.”

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT,” she shrieked as she punched him across the face, knocking his glasses off his masked face.

He fell backwards, grabbing his nose as he groaned. Once he got up, he stared at her intensely for a few moments. She buried her face back into her hands and sobbed heavily.

“Hey, look at me,” he demanded. She picked her head up and wiped her eyes. He pulled off his mask and dropped it on the floor. She stared for a minute as tears ran down her face.

“Eddie- Edward.” she croaked. “But… why?”

“I could ask the same to you.”

“Oh, Eddie…” she approached him slowly, reaching her hand to his face as he stood motionless. Back when they were together, she always worried about him hurting himself; doing things that’d he regret. He was almost never happy, and his trauma got in the way of almost every aspect of his life. She thought back to all the times she wished she could’ve helped him, but she didn’t know how because she was also broken. “I wish I could’ve saved you… I'm sorry…”

Her shaky hand cupped his sweaty cheek as her thumb caressed his face. She wept as she stared into his cold eyes.

“(Y/N)… you were my angel. I never loved anyone like I loved you. I thought you deserve someone better, that's why I left. But… look where we are now.” he spoke somberly, resting his face against her hand. “I never wanted you to sink to my level… I thought you would have moved on and had a family by now.”

“I can’t…” she cried. “I tried but I just couldn’t love anyone else. You’re the one I want to be with. If I’m going to be a monster-” she choked on her sobs. She sniffed deeply and wiped her tears and snot. “I want to at least be a monster with you.”

“Sweetheart… I’m not the same man you fell in love with…”

“Please, let me try to love you again. I missed you so much. I needed you.” she sobbed.

Edward grabbed her arms firmly and pulled her close into a tight hug. It didn’t feel like it used to, between the layers of dirty clothes and thick gloves. Despite the smell and the roughness of his coat, she held onto him for dear life. She wailed into his shoulder as tears stained it.

At this point, there was nothing to do. Neither of them had any idea of what would come of this. Even trying to imagine what the next day would look like was impossible. (Y/N) couldn’t help imagining leaving everything behind with Edward so they could finally live peaceful lives together. The thought only made her more sad. She hadn’t a clue what he even thought of her now. She didn’t even know how she felt about him anymore.

Part 2 (smut)

#the riddler x reader #the riddler #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton #paul dano riddler

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