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avvail-whumps · 9 months

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‘guns for hire’ — twenty minutes #29

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content warnings: multiple whumpers, punishments, gags, past whipping wounds/scars, broken bones (fingers), graphic violence, mention of slurs, blood, strangulation, passing out, stockholm syndrome

Twenty minutes.

That’s how long he was going to have with each mercenary. Bran, Joey and Beard, whatever his real name was. They were allowed to do whatever they wanted, Roy had told him. He assumed those sordid rules of his would be in place, most likely of the “no killing” sort.

He was tucked in the corner of the room, trying to ignore the pulsing pain from his fingers. Now that he was by himself again, it wasn’t as easy to push it to the back of his mind. Roy had left after the kiss, leaving him alone and miserable again. He couldn’t stop thinking about exactly what had happened, how much of a mistake he might have made. This twisted part of him was yearning for it, though — everything Roy was willing to give him, every little affectionate gesture and words. He hadn’t felt so strongly about the man since he came back from his contract, the echoing words of “wait for me” heavy on his mind.

It was horrible waiting. He didn’t know when to expect them to appear, who was going to be first, or what horror they would inflict upon him when they had their chance. He sniffled softly, immedietly wanting Roy to come back. He needed someone to tell him it was going to be okay.

The door clunked open. His eyes darted upwards, breath hitching in anticipation as to who it would be. His stomach sank to his feet when he realised it was Beard. The man looked grim as he entered, eyes flicking instantly towards Leo, before glancing around the rest of the basement.

He tried not to let his breathing pick up. Being the basement was bad in of itself, but now that he was trapped in such a tiny space with nowhere to go? It was so much worse. Much more daunting.

Beard shuffled on his feet, taking a look at the chair, and then the tools on the wall.

He didn’t look too happy.

Beard had only ever liked hurting him when the others were watching. He would have to endure their taunts and heckling laughter, all while taking the torturous pain he’d inflict on him. Some part of Leo hoped that whatever pleasure he got from hurting people with an audience, might put him off from doing too much damage. From the irriated look in his eyes, he wasn’t sure if that was the case, or if Beard was going to take this frustration out on him mercilessly.

He swallowed uneasily, head filled with cotton. He just wanted this to be over already.

The man tapped his foot impatiently, reaching for his own pocket instead. He pulled out a cigerrate and lighter, pressing it between his lips with a drawn out sigh, and flicking it on. Leo feverishly counted the seconds, praying that by some miracle, the twenty minutes would be over by the time he decided to make use of him. Obviously, there was no such luck. The man plucked up a long cloth, before finally making his way over to him.

His boots thumped against the ground, matching the racing of Leo’s own heart. He attempted to press himself closer to the wall, but Beard’s hand shot out to grab his shirt before he could make any kind of feeble escape.

He suppressed a quiet whimper as he was dragged forward, and shoved roughly into the ground. His eyes burned with tears as he landed on his hands, biting down so hard on his lip that it drew blood. The copper taste lingered on his tongue, squirming when a hand fisted into his hair, yanking his head back. A pained cry tore from his throat, but it was cut off when the rag was stuffed roughly into his mouth. He choked, vision splitting when his head was released, thumping against the concrete.

Beard tutted. “Just shut up. I want to get it over and done with.”

Leo squirmed, but the sweltering pain in his fingers was making his stomach heave, threatening to empty itself across the floor. He felt the heavy man on top of him, flicking the lighter on with a quiet scowl. The back of his shirt was yanked up, and Leo tried to resist the urge to press his hands into the ground to steady himself. He considered kicking and squirming his way out from under him, but those thoughts were swiftly squashed.

There was nothing he could do but endure this. When it did, it would all be over. It was his fault this was happening in the first place. If he hadn’t ran away, then Roy wouldn’t have been so mad, and he wouldn’t be in this position right now. He ground his teeth against the gag, feeling the lick of the lighter against his shoulder blades. He tensed, a clammy sweat beading across his forehead. His mind drifted to the whip.

He didn’t even want to imagine what his back looked like with so many terrible scars and wounds. He was suddenly frightened the flame would brush against the sensitive skin, and it made his whole body shiver in anticpation. A sharp, bright pain seared against his skin, and he jerked, a muffled whine echoing through the basement. Beard scoffed, his weight pressing uncomfortably in his ribs.

“Stop squirming,” he snapped, voice low. He could smell the putrid tobacco from his cigarette invading his senses and stinging his eyes. Leo scrunched them shut, and even though the lighter only covered a fraction of his skin, it still burned wildfire. It felt like the flames were digging under his skin, setting the nerves alight with agony. His body jerked and squirmed under each flame, no matter how much Beard threatened him to stay still. The gag dried his mouth out uncomfortably, making it difficult to even suck in a single, needed breath to relieve his aching lungs. Hot tears tracked down his face, though they felt icy compared to the sting of the lighter.

Beard seemed to grow bored by the time Leo was sweating and panting, choked sobs muffled by the uncomfortable gag. It seemed that without an audience, he didn’t find much purpose in what he was doing. He finally stepped off of him, but not without sending a sharp kick to his stomach as he went. Leo’s eyes bulged, a strained wheeze catching in his throat as he desperately curled in on himself to push the pain away. He couldn’t even reach up to pull the gag out of his mouth.

He desperately wanted to sooth the painful itch spreading along his back, his shaking breaths puffing against the disgusting rag stuffed between his teeth. A crippling pain was still gripping his stomach by the time Beard lazily tossed his cigarette on the ground, and left the room.

The loud bang of the metal door forced Leo’s eyes open, a miserable groan tearing from his lips.

The silence returned, and Leo could barely even find the strength to move from his curled up position. He pressed his head into the ground, fighting the cotton returning back to his head, bloating against the back of his eyes. He tried not to look at the door. He tried not to let the panic of another mercenary wandering inside cloud his judgement, otherwise he would start hyperventilating against the gag. It was hard enough to breathe through his nose at the moment.

Another horrible wait stretched by.

His mind tossed the last two in his mind. Bran or Joey. Joey or Bran.

God, Bran was going to be so pissed. He already seemed to blame him for Finger’s, or Rafi’s, death, and no doubt he was going to make him pay for the bad mouthing and vase cracking against his head. He remembered the flash of red blood he’d seen under his hair and—

Leo bit down hard on the gag.

He was shaking.

His fingers were throbbing and his head was swimming with nausea. His thoughts were chanting in his mind, too loud in the all-too quiet room, rocking through his skull like alarm bells. He wanted to slam his hands over his ears to block it out, but he couldn’t. He just wanted to come out of the basement, and he just wanted Roy back.

The familiar screeching of metal ripped him from his mind. Panic instantly set in when he squinted at the familiar figure, who was probably the last person he wanted to see right now. Bran was staring at him with this narrowed, furious look in his beady eyes, but his lip was twisted into a sadistic grin.

Leo let out a terrified whine, waiting for the inevitable twenty minutes of torture he was going to inflict on him. Bran didn’t waste a second tucking in.

His meaty fingers yanked him up by the front of his shirt, jarring his neck uncomfortably from the sheer force. His fist smacked into the side of his face, and before Leo could even register the explosion of pain, he drove his knuckles back down into his jaw for a second time.

Then a third.

And then a fourth.

Leo’s ragged screams were muffled by the gag, feeling the skin tear from the impact, birthing a new set of dark bruises along his pale skin. The man shoved him back down onto the ground, the back of his skull bouncing against the concrete. He couldn’t even move to protect himself before a kick swung into his stomach, and Leo was gagging.

Bran was relentless, somehow worse than he had ever been. His beating didn’t let up for even a second, only pausing to spit derogatory slurs or mock him for crying and snivveling. The blood in Leo’s head was swimming, the pain bright and crippling along his body. It was hard to blink back the spots on his vision, and so his mind eventually shut itself off halfway inbetween. It was only when the man was done with him, cursing under his breath, that he let what was happening barrel back into him.

“Twenty minutes ain’t enough with your sorry ass,” the man hissed under his breath, giving Leo one final parting kick that cracked against his nose. A broken whimper tore from his throat, lying in a panting, tangled heap of blood, splattered across the ground. His left eye was already swelling, feeling it ache uncomfortably every time he blinked.

The harsh slamming made him twitch, but it was all he could manage. Everything was going fuzzy and dark, the gag discarded and his dry mouth wheezing for air. A numbness throbbed across his face, briefly fearing the stitches would have become ruined from his never-ending assault.

It wasn’t long before Joey came in next.

Leo couldn’t even move, his body wracked with aching pains and exhaustion, even as he approached him with a somewhat grim expression on his face. He just seemed to observe him for a long while.

Leo didn’t really care. He needed a moment. He just needed a second to breathe, to collect himself before he inevitably crumbled again. He was so tired of all of this.

“I’m not interested in hurting you, Leo,” he murmured under his breath, causing Leo to pry his stinging eyes open. There was a subtle change in his breathing, but if Joey noticed, he didn’t say anything. He instead slowly reached for the gag, uncaring for the blood on it, and unravelled it. It was a long piece like that. “But I have to. So I’ll make it as easy as possible.”

Leo didn’t really understand what he meant by that, but an arm was suddenly around his shoulder, helping him sit up. It pressed uncomfortably against the lighter burns on his back, causing him to suck in a sharp hiss. It rattled his ribs as he went, and Joey seemed to adjust his grasp on the cloth.

It was suddenly being looped around his neck, and Leo choked on a delayed gasp as it cut off the air from his lungs. Joey twisted his wrist, the material wrapping around the joint, jerking him back forcefully. His mind was suddenly kicked into overdrive, instinctively reaching up to pry the sharp cloth from his neck, but Joey seized his wrists, pulling him closer.

“You’ll just make them worse,” he murmured under his breath, and Leo frantically struggled against his hold. The spots were consuming his vision now, cotton building in his brain, no matter how much he kicked and thrashed through the crippling pain. A small, choked wheeze was the last thing he heard from himself, before his eyes were rolling to the back of his head, and he slumped still.

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#guns for hire #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump series #whump fic #whump tropes #whump community #whumper #whumpee #leo and roy #my writing #writing #avvail whumps #i couldn't get into writing this one #so i don't really like it #oh well #🤭

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secretlittl3whore · 3 years

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Out Of Bullets

summary: Y/N has always had a crush on the man who beat her record on the range. So what happens when he returns from a mission to find that the little lady has taken his words to heart and gotten better?!

Warnings: it’s smut y’all. P in v. Unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it). Fingering. Virgin sex.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem/reader

Totz my first smut! Critiques appreciated! Luvs y’all!

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The compound was pretty quiet during the twilight hours, and that was the absolute preference of Y/N. She did love people, don’t get her wrong, but there was something about her boots echoing off the empty hallways that brought solace. She continued her path to the shooting range, but almost turned around when she heard that distinct sound of bullets flying towards the paper targets.

“Ugh.” Y/N groaned. Then she caught a glimpse of a figure and couldn’t stop herself from drooling at the sight. He must’ve just returned from a mission, cuz he was still clad in his tactical gear. Holsters still attached and filled with weapons. Her eyes traveled downward resting on his thighs. Even those pants couldn’t hide those delicious features. A fire pooled deep within and subconsciously y/n started to rub her thighs together trying to create some sort of friction.

Did she hate him for beating her in everything? Yes, but that didn’t mean she hated him. No, every fiber of y/n’s being wanted him to bend her over the table and fuck her within an inch of her life. Not caring if someone walked in and saw, though someone definitely would eventually see cause of all the damn cameras Stark installed.

Almost as if he had heard her lustful thoughts, the man turned to look at her. He nodded a greeting and then went back to his drills. Must’ve went bad, y/n thought to herself.

She came to a stop beside him and watched him empty his clip before turning to her.

“Good morning Buck,” she stated cooly. Bucky just stared. “Bad mission?” His nostrils flared. Bingo.

“Sam is...fuck. He never has a fucking plan. Just jumps in.” He roared, gloved hands coming to pinch the bridge of his nose. Y/N stayed quiet, knowing to let him rant and not interject till he was finished. She learned the hard way that by doing so, he would shut down and not talk. Y/N prided herself on being a confidant. “He’s going to get someone killed!”. Absentmindedly he started twirling a vibranium knife in his gloved fingers before sinking it into the target that he had just been shooting at. Y/N closed her eyes quickly, knowing her pupils had blown out and stifled a small moan. Could he be any less sexy when he was mad?! Bucky took a deep breath, a sign that he was done ranting and y/n could talk.

“We both know that he’s stupid and reckless.” Bucky let out a gruff laugh, “and that’s why you are his partner because you balance him. The missions are most always successful with you two. It’s just going to take a few to get the rhythm right.” His eyes narrowed at y/n. She spoke truth, and he hated it. With a smug smile, y/n dumped her bag onto the other half of a table.

“Looking for a challenge or you done for today?” Bucky’s eyebrow raised quizzically and he smirked.

“A challenge? Have you been practicing what I showed you?” Y/N grinned and shook her head,

“No.” But that was a total lie. Before he had gone on the mission three weeks ago, they had spent around 6 hours in the range. It was grueling but he pushed her through drills and training. Since then, she had been in the range every day from twilight till noon practicing. Something flashed across his eyes, but disappeared just as quick. There was no way he could know she was lying...could he?

“You first doll.”

By the time y/n was nearly out of bullets, a small crowd had gathered in the viewing box. She was sure that she could see a certain redhead watching intently as y/n performed drill after drill. So focused on the target that she was missing the fact that his eyes hardly ever left her. How they softly caressed her figure and imagined stripping her, being inside her. Watching y/n go through these drills smoothly caused his dick to strain painfully against his pants.

Y/Ns gun clicked and that was it. She was officially out of bullets. She turned to Bucky and caught his eyes immediately. Had they always been that dark? She shook the thought out of her head and went to retrieve the targets. Bucky joined her silently. As they pulled down their targets he briefly dragged a digit along her hand, the leather feeling strangely cool against her skin. It caused a shiver and immediately a blush formed red hot across y/ns cheeks. No stop it! She told herself, it was an accident. Wasn’t it? Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of his profile. His eyes were still dark and he looked almost like he was in pain. Turning back to her target, she grinned widely. Her splatter of shots were centralized around the winning position. No outliers. She had certainly improved, and he had definitely noticed.

“I think you might have actually won this one.” He said through gritted teeth, enunciating the last word almost painfully. Y/N couldnt stop herself from celebrating out loud!

“Fuck yes! Told you I’d beat you Sarge!” There it was, that flash across his eyes, but this time it didn’t disappear as quickly. Y/N gulped as the man stared at her with such ferocity that she actually felt small.

“Want to try that again?” He asked, his voice quiet. She looked behind him and notice that the entirety of the audience had disappeared, almost as if they had never been there.

“I’m out of bullets.” Y/N said softly, her eyes.

“Did I say drills?” He said darkly, leaning in closely. She tried to sputter out a response but his lips captured hers in a gnash of teeth. Her response was immediately, letting that winning target float to the floor out of sight out of mind as she wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck.

Their lips moved with each other rhythmically. She felt his tongue on her lip and she welcomed him in, his taste intoxicating her, sending her head spinning. He pulled away suddenly, earning a small whine from her lips.

“Doll, I need you.” He said almost in a whisper as he leaned his forehead against hers. She almost gasped when she felt it, his dick pressing against her leg. Eyes darting she found the locker room and grabbed his hand, leading him quickly towards it. She found that small medical bay and locked them inside, pressing him against the door. Y/N leaned upwards to kiss him,

“Let me taste you.” She said seductively. He groaned throwing his head back against the door. She took that as a yes and dropped to her knees, making quick work of his pants. Her release was almost ripped from her when she released his dick and it slapped against his stomach. For a minute she paused. He was huge! Thick and glorious. The tip pulsating red and precun dripping. Was now the time to say she was a virgin? Would that make him stop? No, she had done enough research to know how to please a man...she hoped.

Languidly, she kitten licked along his shaft, taking in his scent and the taste of his skin. Bucky’s breathing quickened and she could hear the whirring of his vibranium arm as he clenched his fist. She licked a long stripe on the underside before taking his tip into her mouth. His breath hitched as she sucked.

“Doll,” his breath strangled, “doll you’ve got to move.” Fear struck, but she fought it and started bobbing her head. “Fuck, yes like that doll.” His flesh hand came to rest on her head, threading into her hair making a makeshift ponytail. He started taking over her movements. Y/N hollowed her cheeks like she learned, but it didn’t help when she felt him touch the back of her throat. She gagged painfully and pulled backwards roughly. Bucky stared down at her, eyes full of concern as she coughed harshly.

“Fuck doll. Shit I’m sorry. You just felt so good.” He cooed as he leaned down, grasping her face. She offered a small smile,

“I’m sorry.” Bucky grimaced, kissing her forehead softly.

“No y/n, it’s my fault. Nat said you were a virgin and I should’ve remembered...” he stopped dead in his tracks at the look upon y/ns face.

“She told you?!” She gasped. Bucky started scratching his the back of his head against he sat against the door, dick still hard and angry at being left without attention. She wasn’t angry at the fact that he knew, more so confused at all the conversation came up...or did Nat just offer that information freely l, that devious Russian mink.

“Ugh, yeah, she um...I’m sorry.” He made a move like he was gonna to get up but Y/Ns hand shot out and grabbed him by the vest.

“Don’t go. I...” she paused to collect her thoughts, Bucky looked at her sadly, pondering at what her response would be. “I still want you.” Bucky’s eyes snapped to hers,

“You do?” He asked surprised. Y/N chuckled at his response and leaned in towards him,

“I wouldn’t have sucked your dick if I didn’t.” The darkness returned to his eyes.

“I’ve wanted you for so long doll, are you sure?” She kissed him ferociously,

“Yes James,” Bucky groaned at the sound of his real name dripping from her lips. So low and sultry. He wanted to have her saying it over and over. He pulled y/n onto his lap, straddling her legs over his hips. He captured her lips as he kicked his pants off, but not before grabbing a certain leather strap.

Y/N’s whole body was on fire. This man’s smell, his taste, the feel of his skin, was so intoxicating she felt drunk and high at the same time. Was that even possible?

Suddenly her legs felt cold and then something warm was pressed against her ass. She pulled away and looked down, no he fucking didn’t. Looking back up, y/n noted a shit eating grin as he embedded the knife in the door behind him.

“You owe me new leggings.” She murmured, reaching down to unzip his vest. He shrugged it off and then took his shirt off. She couldn’t help but letting her hands explore the new territory, even taking a moment to trace the area where the metal met flesh. Y/N placed small open mouth kisses after the trails of her fingers, the scarred skin and metal creating a tingly texture against her lips.

“I’ll owe you a new shirt and bra too.” Before she could protest, they too were ripped from her body, that knife now embedded in the wall behind her. She tried glaring at him but couldn’t help but laugh at his grin.

“You are trouble Sarge.” He rutted his hips into her at the pet name and y/n bit back a moan. The movement caused his dick to slip underneath her and now it rested against her stomach, the red tip pleading with her for attention. She sighed and gripped him softly, before pumping. Bucky’s head hang low against his chest as his hands came to rest at her back. She hissed at the metal’s coldness but didn’t stop pumping. His breath quickened as she quickly spat into her other hand before switching them.

Bucky threw his head back against the door, eyes slammed shut and mouth agape, taking small uneven breaths.

“Doll...doll please,” he begged, his metal hand coming to clasp hers, stopping her actions. “I...want to feel you.” Y/N gulped, she was much smaller than this super soldier, he was going to rip her apart. Slowly she raised herself on her knees and Bucky gripped himself, pumping slowly. “Are you ready?” He asked gently. Despite the pounding in her ears, she nodded, but he didn’t move his dick forward. Instead she felt his flesh fingers touch her lips.

He gathered the wetness on his fingers and then gently circled her clit. Y/N felt her whole body shake and she leaned forward to grip his shoulders. As he leaned forward to capture her lips, he entered her with a single finger. Y/N threw her head back and let out a moan. Bucky took the opportunity to latch his lips against her neck, kissing, licking, biting, ensuring that she was marked. A second finger was entered and she could feel him working in and out of her. Breathing quickening, hands gripping, Y/N felt that she was going to explode. Then his thumb began playing at her clit.

“Ah...Bucky...I....” she moaned and he stopped. She groaned when he removed his fingers and stuck them in his mouth. Licking plump lips, he smiled deviously at her,

“Delicious,” he whispered. Leaning his forehead against hers he gently placed his hands on her hips. Guiding her onto himself, slowly, allowing her to get used to the feeling. Y/N felt tears on her cheeks, she felt full but also a dull burning pain. He kissed her cheeks, licking the tears away. And he was fully inside. He groaned at the feeling, burying his face within her neck.

They stayed like this for a moment before y/n felt a surge of confidence and, as Nat told her, started to rock forward. Bucky moaned against her neck, bringing his flesh hand to grab her ass while his metal tangled within her hair. Y/N quickened her pace, enjoying all the noises she heard from him.

Gripping y/ns hair tightly, he started to rut up into her, creating a rhythm. Y/N bit back a moan. He trailed his lips up to her ear,

“No doll, don’t hold those back, let me hear you.” As he said that, he hit a certain spot and Y/N saw white, moaning loudly. Such a promiscuous sound, she felt embarrassed, but as he continued at that angle, she forgot all embarrassment.

The feeling started in her stomach and started to grow. Her breath quickened and her heart started pounding again.

“Please, please, please” she moaned over and over again. “Buc...James...I, shit, I...”

“I got you doll, just let go. Cum for me.” And she did. He felt it on his legs and smelt it. God she smelled good. He continued his pace, going quicker now, chasing his own release. He pressed hard into her as he groaned her name against her shoulder, biting down on her clavicle.

Y/N leaned her forehead against his, eyes hazy. His blue orbs looked back at her and he chastely kissed her swollen lips.

“That...that was better than I imagined.” She whispered finally. Bucky chuckled,

“Oh so you’ve imagined riding me y/n?” She knew he was teasing her but she still blushed crimson. “You’ll have to tell me what else you’ve imagined and you’ll have to tell me which is better.” Oh she definitely knew now, which was better, but she couldn’t deny that she was excited to feel him inside again.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier smut #tfatws #Sebastian Stan smut #winter soldier #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

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Three Strikes, You’re Out

Pairing: Yelena Belova x reader

Warnings: Black Widow spoilers, use of guns, and killing (and therefore death)

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: Sorry for not posting anything in a while! I realize from the warnings that it sounds like angst, but I swear this is overall fluff :)

Yelena saved your life. Not once, not twice, but three times. And not in the “watch out, there’s a car!” way or the “let me save you from the bad guy coming to kill you” way. Yelena had saved your life in the “Y/N, you’re forgetting something” way and the “no, Y/N, you cannot do that” way.

---

“L/N, the person of the hour, I see…” You choked down the rising bile as Dreykov dragged a fingertip down your cheek. You refused to make eye contact with the man, firstly out of hatred and secondly because you knew that if you did, you would shiver. You hadn’t made that mistake since you were 8.

A sign of weakness, they called it. Utter, worthless, garbage, they yelled at you as they beat you in front of the others, being so ungrateful to the only man willing to give you any purpose in life. You took it like a champ, not flinching once. You learned not to do that from the girl who had gotten beaten before you.

“And have you figured out why you might be so special today, my little one?” Not gagging took so much more effort once he introduced the pet name, but you forced yourself to keep looking ahead, keep staring at the faint cracks in the dull wall ahead of you.

“No, sir.” You wished more than anything that he could be talking to one of the other girls in line with you. But here you were, with the man you hated most in the world staring you in the eye, his hand resting gently under your cheek.

“Hmm, respectful, this one,” he cooed to Madame B, as if you wouldn’t have been punished had you not addressed him properly. “Well, L/N, you see that man over there?” As if he had orchestrated the whole thing, a man was immediately dragged into the room, his whines muffled by the burlap sack over his head. The footsteps of the older girls who had brought him in were barely audible, making the man and Dreykov the only things you could hear in the large hall.

“Today is the day you kill. And he, my darling, is your victim.” Dreykov waited for a reaction from you and sighed when he got nothing. “No words, L/N?”

“Wh- where is he from?” The second you opened your mouth, you were expecting punishment—how could you be so stupid as to stutter—but it didn’t come for the reason you thought it would.

“You do not question my orders!” You barely heard his yells above the pain that erupted in your jaw, but your feet didn’t even move an inch. Further pain would come if you were stupid enough to do that. Dreykov quickly gripped your chin in between his grubby fingers. His face now centimeters from your own, he opened his mouth again. “Listen to me, little girl, it does not matter where he comes from. If I am gracious enough to grant you with a task like this, you will do it with no question. If you’d like to respond, it better be a ‘thank you’ or a ‘yes, sir.’ Am I understood?” But he didn’t give you a chance to answer, shoving your face to the left and pressing a gun into your hands. “Now. Let’s go. You’ve got an audience.”

Dreykov stepped back to stand next to Madame B, who watched you like a hawk. You already knew what she was thinking. She must’ve recommended you for this, told Dreykov you were ready for the next step. This was supposed to be a moment of pride for the both of you, but you were just embarrassing yourself and her. She’d probably take it out on you later.

The man had stopped struggling since he’d been brought in, probably realizing that there was no way out of this. At least they’d left the burlap sack over his head. But the second you started walking towards him, begging your hands to stop trembling so you could make the shot—and it had to be a perfect one—he started thrashing in his confines, screaming, begging, and pleading for his life.

“No, please! Please, you don’t want to do this! I have a family! I have a wife! And my kids, they-”

“Kill him now, L/N. I am not very patient.” It’s just like training, Y/N, focus, you told yourself as you focused in on the man’s head. Even though it moved, continuing to whip from side to side, your hands were no longer shaky as you brought them up to aim. Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before. The other girls were at least ten feet away from you, but with how hard it was pounding, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were able to see the rapid rise and fall of your chest. You wanted to apologize, untie the man and set him free, let him go back to his family… but Dreykov was waiting. So your eyes narrowed, your diaphragm relaxed, and your finger pressed down on the trigger. Twice. Once to the head, once to the heart.

Just like that, he was gone. His pleading stopped. His breathing ceased, and his head lolled to the side.

Just like that, you had killed a man.

You had little time to think as Dreykov approached you, clapping his hands slowly. The slow, steady rhythm disgusted you. The dark red stain growing on the burlap sack made you sick. You needed out.

“Congratulations, Y/N. I expect great things from you.” He squeezed your shoulder before sweeping out of the room.

“Y/N.” You whirled around at the sound of Madame B’s voice, stern but gentler than Dreykov’s. “Take the body outside. Yelena,” Madame B called the name of the girl closest to the door. “Help her. I expect you to both be spotless when you return. Make it quick, girls.”

By the time you finally brought yourself to look back at the man, the blonde was already on her knees working on the ties around his ankles. You’d never talked to her before. It wasn’t like girls really made friends here, but she was in your class. And she was the best in your class. But the two of you had never interacted with each other beyond a sweeping glance over each other’s faces before moving on to the next girl. You’d never even partnered together for fight training.

But you didn’t have time to worry about Yelena; your focus was on pushing yourself to get closer to the man. If you got there fast enough, maybe you’d make it in time to hear his last breath, to say sorry. But you were devastated to find that you were a few minutes too late, your hope making you as naive as a toddler. Instead, as your fingers fumbled with the rope around his wrist, you felt a wet drop land on your hand. You looked down expecting to be repulsed by the blood, but the drop was crystalline, clear. A tear. But, with no more ties to support the man’s body, the corpse fell into your arms, and you were forced to focus on helping Yelena support the dead weight.

You and Yelena brought the body out of the room, taking it around the back to where it would be dealt with as you slept that night. Neither of you said a word the whole time. Your hands shook, and you were certain Yelena could see it as the torso of the man shakily rose and fell, never quite matching the stilted rhythm of your steps. You dropped the body, but Yelena replaced your empty hands with her own as she silently led you to a bathroom. The faucet handles squeaked as you turned them. Your stare into the mirror was as empty as your earlier gaze at the wall, but still, something was missing.

There was no more determination, no more strength. And whatever scrap of innocence you had managed to maintain up until this point was gone. You were no longer a girl, not even a woman. You were a monster.

But your hands were clean. Yes, a long study of your hands told you that all of the man’s blood was gone, washed down the drain. But the begging? The completely desperate pleading of a man who knew he had no other choice, that even sobbing for his life was practically hopeless?

You reached again for the bar of soap, pressing it into your skin. Your nails dug into the backs of your palms, a last-ditch effort to somehow cleanse the inside of you. If you went just a little harder, you’d make yourself bleed. But that would be good, yes, that would be good because the soap could mix with your blood and-

“Y/N.” Yelena reached for your hands and pulled them apart. Your right hand was still clenched around the soap, not letting it go even though it was begging to slip through your grip. “Stop.”

You turned to her, your eyes wide. She’d done it before you. The first of your year to do it. Madame B swelled with pride when she had taken the shot. But she was fine. Yelena was standing in front of you, her hands dried long before, her knees were stable. How’d she do it?

“You’ll be okay,” she murmured.

“H- how are you…?” You couldn’t finish, but she knew what you were saying anyway.

“The pain only makes us stronger, I think. You’ll be okay.” You nodded slowly, allowing Yelena to take the soap from you and shut the faucet once all the bubbles left your skin. You moved to leave the bathroom and return to the hall, where you would have to return to training as if nothing had happened. A firm hand pulling on your elbow stopped you.

“Y/N, you’re forgetting something.” Yelena turned the faucet back on and wet her thumb before brushing it along your cheek. “There. Spotless.” You couldn’t see what she had wiped off until you noticed the red staining her skin. Oh.

“Yelena, his voice…” The blonde rinsed off her thumb and shut off the sink before turning back to you.

“The pain only makes us stronger,” she repeated, giving your shoulders a firm squeeze.

“The pain only makes us stronger,” you whispered. Your voice betrayed you, though, cracking on the last word as if it knew something was wrong.

The man stopped begging when the bullet entered his brain. But his voice would never stop. No, it would forever live on with you. It would forever haunt you.

---

“I don’t understand why we have to do this.”

“Because if we don’t, we’ll die.”

“So what? What if we do?” The blonde stopped looking out of the scope of her gun to turn to you. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth hung slightly open, but you simply rolled your eyes. You had seen this look many times.

“You did not come this far in the Red Room to give up now, Solee.” And there was that nickname again. Yelena gave it to you after she helped clean you up that one time, and from then on, she rarely used your actual name unless if others were around. But she never explained what it meant, even now, years later, and you could never figure it out.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. The pain only makes us stronger.”

“Good.” The spy, now satisfied, turned back to her gun.

“But it’s killing everyone else around us.” Yelena sighed, putting her gun away once more.

“It’s called self-preservation, Solee. We do this to stay alive.” Yelena wasn’t sure why Dreykov’s mind control didn’t work as well on you as it did on the others. You still had to do whatever he ordered you to, of course, but your mind was never in it. You didn’t have the singular focus about it that all the others did. You still had a heart, had morals.

But she also wasn’t sure why she listened. She could easily turn you in to Dreykov and rat you out for questioning his orders; she’d certainly be forced to if Dreykov had ever asked her about you. There would be no question about your fate. You’d be killed immediately, written off as just another failure.

Yet, Dreykov had never asked, and when she helped you after you took the life of your first victim, it was like some part of her was forever stuck to you and she couldn’t pull away if she tried. So she did her best to appeal to you, convince you to stay on the mission, even tried to adjust the mission plans so that she was the one taking the kill and not you. But this time, both of you needed to infiltrate, and you’d likely be the one pulling the trigger.

“Besides, it’s not like this one has any good in him. He had it coming.”

“But his family,” you murmured. From your stakeout point, you had the perfect view of the house’s kitchen. The man’s husband and his two kids laughed around the table as they got ready for their day. Someone had turned on the radio a bit earlier, and they danced as they prepared their things. You wouldn’t be taking their lives, but you sure would be ruining them. “They’ve done nothing wrong. They don’t know who he really is. This will destroy them.”

Yelena stayed silent as she continued to fiddle with her weapon. You two wouldn’t move in until later, when the target’s family had left for the day, but she liked to be prepared.

“Maybe I can leave a note or something.” That had Yelena looking up instantly.

“No. No, Y/N, you cannot do that.”

“It won’t be long, just a quick wri-” The blonde stood up and clapped a hand over your mouth.

“Writing a letter could be used to track us down. We cannot leave something like that behind. We can’t leave anything behind. Dreykov wants us in and out. Do you understand?” She could tell from the way that your eyes started to shine that you did. There was no other way about it. And she didn’t mean to be harsh, but she had to if you were going to stay alive.

“But they deserve to know, Leni.” Yelena knew exactly what you were talking about.

“This man is not the same one as the first you killed, Solee. He is not innocent. His family will find out the truth, they always do.” When you finally nodded, she lifted her hand away and returned to her seat beside you.

“You’re quiet.” Yelena’s concern was clear from the way she pursed her lips together. The gravel dug into your palms as you leaned back even further onto them. You looked at your feet before responding, rolling your ankles as if sitting there for less than an hour was the most arduous thing you ever had to do.

“I’m just tired.” Someone else might’ve asked how much sleep you had gotten the night before or asked you if you had your morning cup of coffee. But Yelena wasn’t someone else, and she knew you never really slept and you hated coffee. And she knew physical exhaustion wasn’t your problem.

“It’ll be okay, Solee.”

“Who’s going to tell them that?” You nudged your chin in the direction of the group of three as they ran into the car. They were running late, but they all still had smiles on their faces. You wondered how soon that would change. Yelena didn’t respond; she didn’t know how to. So she settled for resting a hand over yours as the two of you watched the family pull out of the driveway. It was time.

“Solee, what are you doing? We need to get out of here.”

“I can’t just leave like this. I can’t leave them like this.” Your hands were practically shaking as you paced the length of the kitchen, the same one the target’s family had been in that same morning. Technically it was still morning. You had the letter drafted. You’d been thinking of the exact words you needed to write. All you needed was Yelena’s approval, and-

“They will be ok-”

“They will not be okay! Pain doesn’t always make you stronger, Leni, it doesn’t!” Yelena froze as you collapsed to your knees in tears, but she quickly burst into action, pulling you up and into her arms. A glance at the window told her that you two were safe for the time being, but you had to get back before Dreykov became suspicious.

“Solee, now is not the time to be having this conversation. You will be killed if you do this, you know that. I’m sorry, but we really need to go.” Part of Yelena’s heart shattered when you pulled yourself together in less than a second, going from a sobbing, devastated girl to a composed spy in the blink of an eye. She hated that you had to do that. That you knew how to do that. But the other part of her heart soared because it meant that you were still trying, still pushing. And if she was honest with herself, some part of her hoped it was because of her that you were still going.

“There is never time to have this conversation, Leni. And is all this really worth it?”

“Yelena, Y/N! Dreykov wishes to see you. Now.” The two of you met Madame B’s gaze, each giving her a slight nod before slipping away from the rest of the group to find his office. Neither of you spoke as Yelena fell into step with you.

“Another mission, you think?” You shrugged, your face indifferent, causing the blonde to frown. You’d been closed off, cold even, since the two of you had come back from the mission. She’d been trying to get you to crack even the smallest of smiles, but all of her efforts had been nothing but futile. “Solee, what’s wrong? Please, tell me.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Leni. Let’s just see what Dreykov wants, yeah?” The spy finally nodded when the corner of your lip curled up slightly. It was barely noticeable, but it was something, and that was the best you’d given her or anyone else these past few days. So she forced herself to push past the tight knot forming in her gut and walk with you silently to meet Dreykov.

The second the two of you made it into Dreykov’s office, the door was shut, and Yelena almost let out a yell when you were hit across the face. Wow, whatever you were hit with was hard.

“Which one of you let it slip?”

“I- I don’t- what are you talking about?” It took everything in the blonde to not let her temper get the best of her. Of course, she couldn’t do anything, but she sure as hell wanted to. Rather than explaining verbally, Dreykov launched a live news feed on a screen that covered the entire wall. The camera focused on the target’s family as a headline below read: “Family Blindsided By Assassination of Major Mob Boss.” The two of you had mere seconds to soak up what was going on before Dreykov spoke up again, his voice now more even.

“A betrayal like this could get us revealed. So, which one of you pathetic fools let it slip?”

“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” you spat out after composing yourself. “Neither of us said anything to anybody.” Dreykov narrowed his eyes at you as he approached.

“Listen here, Y/N. You may be one of my best, but don’t think for one second that I won’t have you killed. Those lies will not work here. Tell me the truth.” He could threaten you all he wanted to, force you to tell the truth no matter how badly you wanted to keep a secret; he could do anything to you, make you do anything. But you weren’t scared. Adrenaline was rushing through your veins, but you were tired of the Red Room and its horrors. You were done.

“I. Am. Not. Lying.” You barely noticed it, but a flash of surprise swept across the man’s face for just a moment. You weren’t too surprised by it; it wasn’t like the other girls had been so bold when they addressed him. And you supposed the blood dripping down your face made you a bit more intimidating. But just as quickly as the look appeared, it was gone, and he turned to Yelena.

“Yelena? The same thing goes for you. You are good, I’ll admit, and it would be such a shame to lose you, but if one of you doesn’t come clean, there could be… consequences.” Yelena opened her mouth to deny it. She knew nothing about how the reason for the assassination could have been discovered; to her knowledge, neither of you did. You were both innocent. But, as she opened her mouth to talk, Dreykov turned away, one hand to his ear. Seconds later, he turned back to the two of you, a smile on his face.

“Never mind, my darlings. You may go now. I will handle this. Oh, and Y/N? Go get that cut checked out. I’m afraid it looks rather deep.”

Several days later, it was publicly revealed that the target had numerous deals slipping through. Many people were mad at him, and he was getting desperate. A suicide note was carefully slipped into the target’s home—how could the police be so careless as to miss that?—and everything was forgotten. But the permanent scar you had going across your eyebrow would never let you forget it. It would never let you forget how, once again, Yelena had saved your life.

---

You looked down on the brightly lit kitchen and were immediately hit with a sense of deja vu. It was a woman this time, and the kids were older, but it was the same.

No. No, it wasn’t the same. Because this man was innocent. He’d done nothing more than pick up a hard drive one of the rookie Widows had dropped. And while she’d been punished, he now had to be dealt with.

It also wasn’t the same because Yelena wasn’t here with you.

It’d been two months since Yelena had “gone rogue,” or at least that’s what everyone else called it. But you knew what it really meant. Yelena had been freed. She was no longer trapped under the influence of Dreykov. She didn’t have to be a killing machine anymore. But she also didn’t have to be with you. She can’t be with you, you reminded yourself. If you saw her, you would have to kill her whether you wanted to or not. And if not having Yelena with you was hell, then killing her would be… killing her would be the end of you.

But hell certainly wasn’t fun. With Yelena gone, that left you in charge of most missions. Dreykov was supposed to be overseeing, but you hadn’t heard much from him recently. Nevertheless, the missions kept coming, which meant you still had a job you had to do. A job you couldn’t do. You didn’t have the same objectiveness as Yelena. You couldn’t cut out your emotions to see the bigger picture, and with Yelena gone, it would be so much easier to just… be done with everything. But there was always that one thing nagging you. It rang in your head every time your hand brushed just over your brow and every time that man’s pleas rang in your ears.

You did not come this far in the Red Room to give up now, Solee.

So you’d do your best to stay alive in hell, but to be completely honest, you weren’t sure how much longer you were going to last.

“Y/N, you ready? Target is in place.”

“I’m ready. Remember, we make this one quick. This man died of a tragic heart attack.” You had the syringe in your pocket. Normally, Dreykov would prefer you to stage it as murder. But this man was innocent, and Dreykov hadn’t been responding to your communication attempts in ages. So the team followed your lead. “Understood?”

“Copy.” With confirmation coming in from your earpiece, you made your way down from your hideout, taking care to avoid being spotted by the occasional passerby or home security camera. You had several Widows posted around the area to alert you of potential obstacles, and two Widows would enter the house with you in case of any unforeseen troubles, but this should be an easy job. Once again, this man was innocent. How many precautions would a man take for his safety if he had no reason to believe he was in danger?

But when you had your eyes locked on the target and asked for a report from your accompanying widows, your earpiece stayed silent. A quick check-in with those in the perimeter showed that nothing suspicious was going on inside, which meant there must’ve been something, someone else, in that house.

A quick glance at your watch had you cursing. You’d been staking this man out for a few weeks now, and his mother was scheduled to come to the house in less than thirty minutes. You didn’t have much time to find out what was going on with the other two Widows. Get the man first, worry about them later, you decided. They were highly trained; whatever was going on couldn’t be that bad. But just as you swung out, syringe in hand, you were tackled to the side, and the needle flew out of your grasp. So this is what took out the other Widows. But you weren’t going down that eas-

“Leni?” Your eyes widened in shock for a second before you immediately charged at her. And no matter how loudly your brain was screaming at you to stop, your body was on autopilot, and, now, completely submitting to the orders of someone that wasn’t you, it was the most ruthless it had ever been. It was demonstrating in full force just how you had earned your reputation as one of the Red Room’s best. And while this was a reputation you had always been ashamed of, you had never hated yourself so much as you did when you attacked Yelena. Luckily for you, she was also one of the best.

“This is so completely and utterly stupid, Leni,” you managed to grit out as you tripped her to the floor. “What are you thinking?”

“Don’t,” Yelena paused to avoid another punch in her direction, “worry about me. I’m trying to help you, you fool!”

“You’re trying to get yourself killed!”

“I’m sorry, Solee.” Before you had time to retort, the two Widows you’d been looking for stumbled into the room. Unlike attacking Yelena like you thought they would, they slammed you to the ground before you had time to land a kick to Yelena’s torso. The shock of their attack was enough to keep you down for a second, just fast enough for a vial of red dust to explode across your face.

Yelena studied your face as you were exposed to the chemical agent, waiting desperately to see the telltale signs of disorientation that showed it was working. Much to her dismay, they never came, but she soon realized why as your eyelids slowly shut. When they reopened, your face was brighter than she’d ever seen it, a small smile gracing your lips.

“It’s over,” you laughed, immediately jumping into her arms. “It’s really… it’s really over?”

“It’s over, Solee. You’re done. Never again.”

A knock at the door brought your eyes away from the window and towards the blonde, a smile automatically growing at the sight of her. “Hey, you comfortable? Do you need anything? I brought a sweatshirt. It’s one of mine, but you should borrow it. It gets a bit cold at night.” You took the gray piece of clothing from the former spy with a grateful nod.

“So this is where you’ve been all this time?” You looked around the bedroom once more. It was nothing special, literally just a room with a gray dresser and a bed in a wood frame surrounded by white walls, but it was yours. Well, technically you didn’t own it, but you would get to sleep here, by yourself; Yelena had even told you that the two of you could go out to get some decorations for it later.

“We move around as we need to, but yes, we’ve been here for some time.” She paused, the silence not quite like the comforting one that usually fell between the two of you. She was waiting for something. To ask something. “Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding me?” The blonde relaxed at your laugh. “I love it. And the other Widows do too. That’s seven of us that you’ve saved today, eight if you count that man, and eleven if you count his family.” Yelena shook her head gently at the last part of your sentence. Nothing meant more to her than her family, but she was amazed at your compassion, caring not just about your family, but the family of every person you ever came across. “Do you always save this many people in one day?”

“Only on the good days,” Yelena sighed softly.

“Today was a good day then?”

“The best.” When Yelena’s hands slipped into yours, you watched the link just as carefully as she watched you as she made the connection. You weren’t pulling away, but you weren’t… you weren’t moving. Yelena could feel her heart stop beating, her throat closing, her diaphragm freezing. You guys had never moved past a friendship, but she’d always assumed it was because you never could. But maybe the real reason was that you didn’t want it to be anything more than that. Maybe-

“Why, because I’m finally here to make things fun?” It was that one joke, accompanied by a squeeze of her hands, that brought her body back to life.

“No, because we had mac and cheese for dinner,” she scoffed. “Always so humble, huh?”

“Yep, that sounds just like me.” The two of you fell into a fit of giggles, just like you always did when you were together. But this time it was different. For once in your lives, there was nothing holding you back. There were no targets to eliminate, no families to destroy, no Dreykov or Madame B telling you to stop being so pathetic and get on with it already. You were both free at last.

“Leni,” the soft call of her voice had the blonde meeting your eyes. You pulled her hands closer to you before you spoke, effectively pulling Yelena closer to you. “Thank you-”

“You have nothing to thank me for, Solee, I-”

“I have everything to thank you for, Leni. You saved me the first time you helped me, and that time you didn’t let me write that letter, and now today. I don’t know how much longer I could’ve kept going if you didn’t free me today. You saved my life.”

“And you give me life, Solee. Nothing in the Red Room was real. The fake pity Dreykov gave us, the ‘purpose’ that they gave us, none of it. But you were, and you still are, the only thing I knew to be real during all those years in that hellhole. You are my heart and soul.” Oh. Soul-y. That was the nickname. “You are the reason I am here today. So thank you.” You watched as she brought the palm of your hand up to her cheek. But when she turned to press a kiss to your hand, your eyes closed on their own accord, as if they knew it was too much to watch her perform the intimate action. You didn’t want to watch it, you needed to feel it.

And feel it you did. The warmth of her lips against your calloused hands, the gentle yet strong support of her fingers wrapped around yours... in less than twenty-four hours you had gone from hell to absolute heaven.

You slowly opened your eyes when her lips were replaced by her cheek.

“Feel good, Souly?” The former spy asked with a chuckle. You hummed, studying her face before responding.

“I can think of something else that might be better.” Yelena simply quirked an eyebrow at you, but the slight smirk on her lips told you she knew exactly what you might be referring to. So with one last flicker of your eyes from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes, you closed the gap between the two of you—or maybe she did, you honestly weren’t sure—and your lips melted into hers. All the emotions you had felt, were feeling, and could ever feel were poured into the kiss. It was sweet, gentle, and pure, your stomach aflutter with butterflies and your chest swelling with joy, but it was also raw, passionate, and emotional, saying more than two emotionally constipated former assassins ever could.

You two finally separated with your foreheads pressed together, puffs of air being exhaled against each other’s lips as you attempted to fill your lungs with the oxygen it had been deprived of for so long.

It was a while before either of you even thought about speaking again. But there was no need to, not right now. You could talk about what you were later. For now, both of you were perfectly content to stay in each other’s embrace; she, having your whole heart, and you, her soul.

-----

🏷 : @vancityfire13

#tbh not too sure how I feel about this one #but too late now :')#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x fem!reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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leora-rambles · 3 years

Text

The Road I Have Traveled On: The One Where Melone is Weird (La Squadra/Reader [Multiple Chapters])

i am vertebrae.

Previous/Next

TW: Gun violence in this chapter.

“I think I fell in love.”

The group looks back at their teammate. The ones there raise their brows in confusion. The ones that weren’t there would’ve gagged at the words.

Risotto sits on the couch, the laptop seated nicely on his built lap, while Formaggio and Pesci watch the television.

“What. Did a woman show you her ankles today?”

Melone ignores Formaggio’s joke and collapses on the seat beside Risotto, careful not to accidentally nudge him.

He’s flushed. His lavender hair is splayed across his forehead, his skin shimmering with a dewy layer of sweat. The band around his head is slightly askew, as well.

A low chuckle escapes Melone as he covers his eyes with a gloved hand.

“How did it go?” Pesci asks, focused on the screen rather than his overjoyed coworker.

Melone stares at the ceiling.

“Amazing.”

Now he has caught their attention. Who talks about a hit like that?

Risotto squints his eyes when he hears the exclamation. At that moment, Melone was nothing short of a giddy school girl with a crush.

“He executed that hit perfectly. He completely subverted my expectations,” the lavender haired male gushes.

Melone raises a hand up to the sky, as if reaching for something he saw.

“Leche is perfect…” He places a hand over his heart, “He’s the perfect father for my Baby Face.”

Melone relives the moment you raised your pistol at the other's forehead. Even though he’s back at the base, he feels the icy breeze of the night air whistling through his dress shirt.

“I’ll hurry it up, like you asked,” you had told the man.

It was like you were playing a role with how heartless you sounded, like Melone was just someone in the audience watching your movie.

He made a point to look away, averting his eyes from the upcoming sight of gore. Melone prepared himself for the sound of gunfire, until he instead heard you sigh.

Oh no, he thought.

Oftentimes, there would be some recruits that seemed up for the job but simply weren’t. They were the kind that gave up after acknowledging their target. The ones too afraid to take another’s life

Melone witnessed this a few times, the worst part being that they gave up the moment their target had spotted them. This only reared itself out as a hindrance for Melone, having to kill two times the people he was supposed to take out.

He prayed that you weren’t like those idiots.

“You know what, here. As a present.”

Well, he’d learn that you were not like those idiots. You were much worse.

Melone glared at you with a livid anger in his eyes. If he hadn’t been so shocked, he would’ve asked you what the fuck you were doing.

He didn’t know why his feet remained planted to the ground as you waltzed towards the man. He didn’t know why he made no move to take you down and finish the job himself.

All he knows is that he’s watching you as you gingerly place the pistol in the target’s palms.

You walk behind the target, placing your hands down on his shoulders, the same way a mother would while introducing her little boy to a new friend.

“Consider this a gift,” you mused, savouring the fear in your partner’s eyes. “We both hate that pigtailed bastard Illuso, so this can be our revenge.”

You’re patting the man on the shoulder, encouraging him to raise the gun. “The team would be devastated losing a member, so make sure your aim is good.” Melone, despite wanting to flee, remained the same.

He was frozen in time. Just one practiced swing, and he could take both you and the target down.

But he couldn’t move.

You took your place on the alleyway wall, leaning on your shoulder while the man heaved. “Sir…” He trembled, looking at you with utter desperation.

If the target wasn’t drenched in sweat before, he sure was after you handed him your gun.

“What’s the matter?” You called, crossing your arms.

“ Shoot , signore.”

The man flinched at the hidden threat in your voice.

In one quick movement, he pointed the gun with two shaky hands. Melone still couldn’t move.

Melone’s life flashed before his eyes. Months searching for computer parts, hours looking into parental guides, seconds catching his breath after barely escaping a flurry of bullets. It all came back to him in that one moment

“The team would be devastated.”

He doesn’t know why those were the words that rang in his ears when the gun stared at him in the face.

Melone shut his eyes. There were some instances where a person would survive a bullet to the skull, having a few seconds to dwindle as they watched blood pour out the bullet wound. Though living seemed enticing, he did not wish for brain matter and blood spewing from his wound to be engraved into his memory.

A loud bang echoed through the walls.

But he was still alive.

“… You’re getting off on nearly being killed?” Formaggio raises a brow, lowering the volume on the tv.

Melone shakes his head, feeling the warmth of his cheeks on his palms. “I wasn’t in danger,” he muses, “Right then, Leche had already secured the kill.”

Formaggio cringes at his teammates words, but keeps any thoughts he has to himself.

Melone reminisces on the way you had sighed as the man's body fell over. The way you wiped the blood off of your cheek in annoyance.

Other than the blood sprayed on your face, the kill was relatively clean. It appears as a suicide from a bystanders view.

“I’ll be honest, I was a bit upset after the hit, but after some pondering, I’ve realized Leche’s genius.”

Melone turns to his higher up, “Risotto, would you mind asking Leche for a blood sample?”

Risotto’s tapping on the laptop falters for a moment, not to consider Melone’s question, but to ponder on the hit just described to him.

“I’ll have a firm talk with Leche about his behaviour,” he states. Melone hears the hint of frustration in the larger man's voice, and changes his attention to the tv.

As he thinks back on Risotto’s attitude, he realizes that he may have just put you in a bit of hot water.

‘Oops.’ Melone smirks. ‘Guess we’re even now, cutie.’

—

Your shoulders shudder in fear, the lingering aftermath of your earlier meeting with Risotto.

“Melone informed me of your hit.” He stared at you with his crimson eyes, scrutinizing your reactions as you panicked to come up with an excuse.

It was like there was a metal ball in your throat with how much you were choking on your words.

“It— I was testing… The target was… I had good—“

“If my men ever complain about you pulling a stunt like that again, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

You stomp your feet on the cement as you trekked your way home. “That snitching asshole…!” You bite your thumb in an effort to alleviate the anxiety.

“Annoying piece of shit…!” you mutter under your breath, feeling the lava-hot anger rush to your face in eruption.

You turn to see your face in the window of some mirror shop. Looking at your disgruntled reflection only frustrated you more. You remember for a brief moment when Melone whispered into your ear, perverted face blushing, “How did you know about my fear of gore?”

An annoyed cringe makes its way onto your face. “What kind of assassin is afraid of blood…!” You bite your knuckles, holding back your curses. You’ll save the yelling for once you’re home.

The house is quiet, apart from the sound of your hat hitting the wood flooring and the colourful array of your choice words (some in a language you didn’t even know you learned). Your jacket falls to the floor as well, and you take a running jump on the couch.

You groan, knowing you have to shower before getting to your bed. Slinking to the hallway, you rip your jacket off and prepare to stay in the bath for at least an hour.

The shower washes away the ache in your shoulders, taking the dried up blood and dirt with it. Even after scrubbing meticulously in the bath, you don’t know why you can still see the mess on your hands. It’s a kind of grime that you can’t wash away.

You don't realize you’re crying until the stinging in your eyes becomes unbearable. You’ll have to live like this for a while, if not, forever. Everyday, whether you like it or not.

It was easier when you had your brother around to talk with.

When you breathe, your chest feels lighter. Your shoulders don’t ache as much as they did before, and though you can still see the stains on your hand, you’re cleaner.

‘Why is getting out of the shower harder than getting in?’ You think to yourself, towelling the droplets of water on your face.

Your small moment of peace is disturbed when you hear a crash in the kitchen.

A sudden surge of adrenaline rushes through your system as you sprint to the noise, droplets of water still dripping down your body.

The vase beside the window is in a myriad of tiny pieces, sparkling on the floor like a broken disco ball.

You curse beneath your breath, holding the towel firmly in place. You thought it was an intruder or god forbid one of your new coworkers , but it was probably your neighbour’s demon cat again. It’s not the first time that that scheming little gremlin waltzed into your home and broke something.

You recall the time you had to replace a mirror after the angry furball somehow rammed itself into the thing.

In hindsight, it might’ve been your fault. It was careless to leave the window open, and even more careless to just place the creaky antique mirror right beside the opening.

Have you learned? No. You squint your eyes at your reflection after shutting the window and locking it. Those eyebags weren’t budging, no matter how much you slept.

You shrug off the shards of porcelain on the floor. Tomorrow’s you can worry about that.

With all the tiredness colliding in with your thinking, it’s no surprise you brushed off the feeling of being watched the same way you did with the porcelain.

—

The phone rings. Risotto runs his hands through his hair before picking it up.

He hears the sound of glass shifting on the other side of the phone, little shards cracking as Illuso steps on them.

“Illuso?” He asks, attention drawn away from the papers in front of him.

“I visited the newbie, like you asked,” Illuso says, his voice even. He stares at the hallway that leads to your room.

“I’m sitting on a pretty big amount of information.” He boasts, twirling a lock of his silky black hair.

“I think you’ll be happy to hear that…” Illuso stares at the smiling pictures of you hanging on the wall, the majority taken with your brother beside you.

“Our dear Leche has a sibling.”

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #la squadra x reader #la squadra #melone jojo #pesci jojo #risotto jojo #formaggio jojo #x reader #jjba x reader #jjba la squadra #jojo golden wind #golden wind #jojo vento aureo #vento aureo #sorry that I was gone

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mrvdocks · 4 years

Text

Nightcall P.2

Summary: Kurt is obsessive over a model and kidnaps her, taking her along for the ride of the night. P.2

You feel the tiredness behind your eyes when they flutter open, your chest rises and falls slowly as you take in your surroundings. You were home. It was close to six now, but some light still came in through your shades and illuminated your living room sunset orange.

You sit up in confusion, was the whole Spree a dream? More like a nightmare.

Your head is killing you, almost as if there’s a jackhammer in your skull.

You rub at your eyes tiredly, standing up too quick and needing to balance yourself on the arm of the couch you were just laying on.

The apartment’s empty, save for some background noise coming from your laptop.

That’s odd, you didn’t remember leaving your laptop on.

Your vision blurs for a moment but sharpens on the image in front of you. The chat in the live stream is going nuts with all sorts of comments ranging from “when are we going to see some gory shit?” to “bring back Bobby!”

That’s when you realize the person on the live stream is you.

The comments change to asking you if all of this is real and if Kurt is coming back.

Your eyes widen as you read his name.

That’s when you hear him.

“Oh good, you’re awake. I was starting to get scared that I used too much of the stuff.”

You don’t know how much tensing your body can take. You put the screen down, meeting a smiling Kurt who’s dressed in Bobby’s clothes. You know it’s his because of the sponsors you helped him get.

You grab at the nearest thing on the table, brandishing a leftover metal fork at him.

It merely amuses him as he puts your hand down with ease and takes the fork away.

“Come on, did you really think I was going to hurt you? You, of all people? I have no reason to do that.”

“You’ve done worse for less,” you shudder, glancing behind you to find a way out.

“You’re not in any danger with me. You’re safe, okay?” He takes small steps towards you, hands out in a gesture to relax you.

It doesn’t work, it only makes you more nervous. For every step he takes forward, you take one back.

“I bet you’re hungry.” He says, disappearing into your kitchen.

You take this chance to run into your room, remembering there was a landline you never paid attention to there. Maybe you could get out of this still.

Much to your dismay, the line’s been cut by Kurt anyway.

“I didn’t want us to be interrupted.” He says, bringing in his concoction of food.

You don’t have the strength in you to fight and your stomach grumbles at the sight of the food. He holds it out in front of you, waiting.

You stare at it, trying to figure out if anything’s wrong with it.

“I didn’t poison it or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

When you don’t believe him, he takes a bite out of the sandwich and scarfs it down immediately. Nothing happens.

You take it from him slowly and bite at it before completely devouring it whole.

“Good. You’re going to need energy for later.” He leaves you alone to go back into the living room.

You don’t understand what he means until you hear something drag against your floors. He reappears in your bedroom dragging the body of the same man from the earlier Spree.

You instantly feel sick to your stomach, the food you just ate reaching your throat as you gag at the smell.

You shudder lowly, feeling your shoulders shake and your chest heave as you clasp your hand over your mouth in an attempt to calm yourself.

The dead body in front of you was very much freaking you the fuck out and you didn’t know whether to scream or to cry about your situation.

Kurt makes quick work of the man’s possessions, pocketing them to probably discard them later.

“People are just so rude,” He says. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Kurt killing someone for demeaning you is something you didn’t see coming. Then again, you didn’t really see yourself being kidnapped on the list of things that would happen this week.

“This makes you worse than Bobby. No, worse than anyone.”

You don’t know where the sudden fuel to comment on his actions came, you were still scared but somehow it came barreling out.

He stops what he’s doing, looking at you in disappointment.

He really couldn’t expect you to go along with this, could he?

“Bobby and I are different, you know that. This is different.”

You didn’t know him.

“So what? You don’t like how the world treated you so you just do whatever you like? Murder as you please?”

He doesn’t argue back, he doesn’t need to. You’re right.

“I’m not just doing this for myself.” He rubs at his temple.

“Kurt,” you muster enough courage to look him dead straight in the eyes. “Do not do this and say that it’s for me. I won’t hesitate -”

“To leave? Go ahead, you’ve had all this time.”

He renders you speechless. He was right, you could’ve easily overpowered him with anything in the room. But if he was so infatuated with you the right thing would’ve been to let you go without consequence.

“You said you trusted me.” He murmurs.

“You ran a fucking light and now you’re a serial killer! It doesn’t apply to both!”

“I’m - I’m not the bad guy here!” He huffs incredulously, as if everything he did wasn’t affecting him psychologically the way it was you. “If anything, I’m doing the world a favor! These are scum of the earth people!”

He calms down. “They get it.”

He points presumably to the laptop mere feet away from you both. The sounds of the stream popped up one after the other.

“Really? Because as far as everybody’s concerned, they all think this is some kind of fucked up joke!”

“Let them believe what they want to believe. They’re finally watching me!”

It doesn’t matter to him that they’re insulting him in the comments, or that he killed someone he considered a friend.

“So everyone has an expiration date for you.” You conclude.

He was only going to use people up. That should’ve been common sense. You don’t understand why that fact made you feel a little dejected. You wish he could revert back to the Kurt you met.

“Do I have an expiration date?”

“No.” He assures. “But if this is going to work I need you to be okay with this.”

“I’m not.”

Fighting him was futile. You were forced into it. You wanted so desperately to warn these people and get the word out. But that's also what he would've wanted. He wanted you to give him exposure. The officer still thinks you did it all willingly, but the footage was more than enough to help you get off with a few repercussions.

You wish you could forget the screams of the people in the car, a thousand washes with soap couldn’t get rid of the blood on your hands. Even if some of them really were assholes, shouldn’t they have also had a chance at redemption?

With each spree, Kurt only was egged on by the audience and those that found the livestream later. Many of them called for you to do something equally as horrifying but you couldn’t. Many suggested for him to get rid of you since you were being ‘boring’. He wouldn’t do it.

And that’s when he set his sights on Jessie. After promptly kidnapping her and trying to convince her to join him to no avail, he takes both of you back to his house. You had enough. You wanted a way out and Jessie was it. You just didn’t know everything would end so bloody.

There’s an ensuing fight, she strangles Kurt with the phone charger and knocks you back in an attempt to stop it. The back of your head collides with the passenger window harshly, forcing you to screech in pain.

Kurt doesn’t take it well.

She swindles Kurt, taking the gun he kept in the glove compartment and arming herself with it. This wasn’t how you wanted it to go. You just wanted her to scare him enough to turn himself in.

But the crazed look in her eye suggested that wasn’t happening.

The final battle takes place at his home. Where all his dirty secrets are let out.

“I’ll shoot you both if you don’t move!”

You keep your hands up, shielding Kurt with your body.

“Jessie please, let’s think about this.”

“And let him get away with all of this? He’s brainwashed you already.”

“He hasn’t - listen he won’t get away with this. Jessie please, give me the gun.”

She wavers, the barrel pointed directly at you. Your heart is beating so fast you almost think you’ll die from a heart attack before the bullet even reaches you.

“No! No, this has to end. He’s fucking crazy, can’t you see that??! This was always going to end with one of us dead anyway, and it’s not going to be me.” She points behind you and almost pulls the trigger but is stopped by you lunging at her.

“No!” You yell.

You tackle her onto the floor, the back of her head bouncing off the leg of the pool table and knocking her unconscious.

You press your index finger against her neck, feeling her pulse. You sigh in relief.

“Why didn’t you let her do it?” Kurt asks suddenly.

“She was going to kill you. I don’t know how I’d feel about that.”

Kurt had no problem having these people on his conscience, but you did. Maybe killing him would be good, but him facing justice for what he did would be better. He could atone for all of this.

“Even after what I did to you?”

You don’t answer and instead prop Jessie against the wall. You were honestly very sorry for it but you were optimistic about the outcome of all of this.

Kurt bends to your level and takes you into his arms, squeezing you tight.

“We did it!” He celebrates prematurely, Jesse’s not even dead but it doesn’t matter to him. He thinks you’re on his side, that’s more than enough.

You smile nervously, his forehead touching yours in what he believes is a tender moment.

“What are you going to do to her?” You’re afraid of the answer.

Kurt’s mood shifts immediately, serious now.

“I have to get rid of her now obviously. If she won’t join us then there’s no point to her.”

His quick response is enough for you to discard all hope that he would walk away from this. You grip the gun in your right hand, sure that he hasn’t seen it.

“This is going to be great! We’re going to be even bigger than all these assholes. And you can finally be by my side, as it should be.”

Your blood runs cold. He’s a dead man walking at this point.

You say fuck it as you abandon all morals. With the free hand you have, you bring it to the nape of his neck and press your lips against his. He’s so distracted by it that he doesn’t feel the front of the gun pressed against his abdomen.

It’s only when you feel your finger pull back the trigger that the shot startles you both and he opens his eyes to looks at you in shock.

You unload another shot into him. He crawls away from you and applies pressure onto his wound, howling in pain.

He looks at you again, hurt and confusion clear on his face. He reaches for you, calling for you in between coughing fits and cries of pain.

You empty the last bullet into his shoulder, sending him backward.

There’s a ringing in your ear that drowns out the sirens in the distance. You don’t know who managed to call them but you’re thankful to end this nightmare. You’re still holding the gun out but it only takes you a second to realize you’re screaming. Absolute guttural and gut-wrenching wailing.

When they arrive, the paramedics have to sedate you to calm you down. Jessie is taken in the ambulance while an officer tries to get you out of the house while you’re still conscious. Kurt’s body lays limp in a pool of red, his hand still reaching and glazed eyes staring back at you.

It haunts you.

“People like Kurt needed a partner. We believe he was targeting Ms. Adams previously before his attention turned to you. Do you know why that is?”

You lie. “No.”

It’s easy to say you never knew his intentions. They were spur of the moment decisions. Everything was chance. You can't explain yourself or Kurt’s psyche to her, there’s no easy way to do it.

She sighs. “Listen, whatever good you think you saw in him, whatever ramble about the real world you think you understood - was never there.”

Her words should make you feel better, comfort you in the fact that you developing some sort of twisted attachment with your kidnapper wasn’t your fault. You don’t know how to feel, you just feel...empty.

“It doesn’t matter now.” You shrug.

“You said Kurt told you something before he died. What was it?”

You let your heavy eyes close in exhaustion. You don’t remember why you told them that, but it must’ve slipped out in questioning.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

Unsure if she believes you or not but knowing there’s nothing else to keep you here, she dismisses you. You trudge out of the interrogation room and out of the station into the cold. You don’t bother with ordering a ride, it’s been ruined for you.

Instead you walk it home, feeling yourself go into autopilot. You think you see his face in every driver that passes you.

You’re sure you look catatonic to people but you don’t care. You just want to rest.

As soon as you’re home you slip into the bathroom, turn on the shower until it’s steaming and let everything out.

In the weeks that follow, you and Jessie are thrown into the stratosphere of fame. While she’s more content with her newfound trajectory and takes advantage of it, you decline every interview and prying noses that ask you to explain your relationship with Kurt. It’s all part of their circle jerk of tragedy, milking the victims for information and glamour.

Kurt’s regarded as a loser by those who are saner than he was and a god by those on the internet. You’re not entirely surprised.

You think it’s all over when months pass without incident until one day your friends send you a link to something on Reddit, which you don’t think twice about.

You regret it as soon as you see Kurt’s face in the thumbnail. Someone took all the footage from that night and was going to broadcast it later to show off their own documentary.

You don’t use social media anymore.

#spree #kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle #well here it is

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ducktracy · 3 years

Text

187. daffy duck & egghead (1938)

release date: january 1st, 1938

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: mel blanc (daffy, turtle, duck), danny webb (egghead)

starting off the new year with a bang—the first cartoon of 1938 is one of my favorites! two tex avery creations, daffy and egghead, make their second appearances paired together.

both characters have gotten a makeover, though egghead’s is more drastic: he now has hair and talks in a dopey drawl courtesy of danny webb. daffy, on the other hand, now has blue irises and a matching ring around his neck—this design would be exclusive to this short only. but, it IS the first cartoon to pen him as daffy duck! he’d appear in a number of looney tunes shorts with porky as the year would go on.

like so many other “hunter vs prey” shorts, egghead is determined to hunt daffy. daffy, however, is prepared to do everything in his power to make egghead miserable.

ben hardaway, who would have been directing his own cartoons at the time of this cartoon’s release, is the writer, and it shows throughout. ben is notable for his more hayseed sense of humor, relying on puns so corny you’ll be flossing your teeth for a week to remove the kernels. his punny touch is noticeable right at the start, with daffy and egghead bursting out of literal nutshells in an odd little introductory sequence. irv spence does some nice animation here: daffy shakes his fists in the glory, soon to be interrupted by the fire of egghead’s gun. egghead chases after a HOOHOOing daffy, the smoke from the gun spelling out to the audience “DUCK SEASON STARTS TODAY”.

the scene is odd, but more so out of uniqueness rather than perplexity. one wonders how tex really would have prefaced the cartoon if he were paired with another writer instead.

in a tradition that would carry out into tex’s MGM days, one of our first impressions of the short is a facetious disclaimer:

a sense of tranquility is established through a soft, sweeping rendition of “morning song” from the william tell overture. various gorgeously painted backgrounds fade into each other to convey the passage of time and rise of the sun, each background absolutely stunning in its own right. in a tex avery cartoon, such peace and harmony can only mean one thing: chaos is soon to follow.

our eponymous hunter creeps onto the screen, remarking aloud on the eerie stillness of his surroundings. “i wonder if there are any more hunters out here this morning.” right on cue, a swarm of hunters pop out of the reeds, reciting a popular catchphrase from the ken murray show reused in many a ‘30s WB cartoon: “whoooooooooa, yeaaaaah!”

the sound of quacks ring out from the recesses of the reeds, turning egghead on the alert. just as he prepares to hunt his prey, a signature avery gag of epic proportions interrupts the scene... literally.

tedd pierce’s silhouette darkens the screen as he makes his way to his movie seat--a latecomer. egghead spots him and urges him to sit down and not scare away his prey. the latecomer does so, only to rise up again and change seats. our frustrated sportsman urges the silhouette to sit down again, which he does so. the silhouette never utters a word, and that’s the best part. the matter of fact delivery of the gag, the control of it all is what makes the gag so funny. such even temperament from the silhouette juxtaposes starkly with the wild nature of avery cartoons. the normal is now the ridiculous.

when the silhouette snoops around for a better seat once more, egghead loses all patience and fires his gun straight at the silhouette. tedd pierce’s theatrics are hilarious--he twirls around, clutching his heart, hamming up his injury to the last drop. the anticipatory drum-roll as egghead looks on brings the entire act together. finally, pierce collapses, much to the contentment of egghead. he merely rubs the dust off his hands in a job well done and continues where he left off.

cartoon characters shooting audience members isn’t an alien move in warner bros. cartoons (bugs in rhapsody rabbit, daffy in the ducksters), yet the inclusion of the silhouette and its subsequent dramatics brings a new level of inclusion with the audience. imagine what an uproar this would get in a packed house! it’s a great way to break the barrier between cartoon characters and the audience. WB did a great job of making the audience feel included. hell, a majority of daffy’s character throughout the ‘40s hinges on this! but that’s an analysis for another time.

speaking of daffy, he’s the perpetrator of those quacking sounds in the reeds. egghead parts the plants to see if his prey is still there. he is—daffy gives him a viscious bite on egghead’s bulbous nose before going back into hiding.

“that duck’s craaaa-zy!” daffy pops his head out of the reeds again, shrieking a reply of “you tellin’ me? WOO WOO WOOHOO!”

daffy’s voice is significantly more shrill than his dopey guffaws in porky’s duck hunt. in fact, it’s so shrill that this could easily be considered one of his most annoying cartoons. though his 100% screwy, totally out of his mind personality isn’t my favorite personality for him, it’s still pretty damn great! so if you like obnoxious daffy (like me), this is a short for you. if you can’t stand him being a lunatic, stay away!

with that, daffy takes an exit, whooping and shrieking all the way in a direct throwback to his ecstatic exit in porky’s duck hunt. this is a game-changer for the merrie melodies series—the screwy, lunatic antics were typically reserved for the black and white looney tunes shorts. and here we have daffy, splitting the ears of his patrons and being a royal nuisance in the more expensive, esteemed merrie melodies, typically reserved for song and dance numbers! this ain’t your mother’s merry melody.

when daffy takes refuge within a cluster of reeds positioned in the middle of the lake, egghead uses this as an opportunity to lure out his prey with a decoy. specifically, ONE LOVE-LURE DUCK DECOY.

egghead sends the obnoxiously feminine duck decoy out into the water, quacking in time to the beat of stalling’s “the lady in red” underscore. the decoy disappears into the reeds, and there’s a pause.

a flurry of aggravated, warbled quacking cues us in that daffy is pissed off. the action is all hidden behind the plants, leaving details of their altercation is up to the audience’s interpretation. what we do see is daffy’s physical anger: he pops out of the water at the bank of the lake, throwing the decoy down at egghead’s feet. a makeshift sign cleverly held up by a cattail echoes a beloved catchphrase from the radio show fibber mcgee and molly:

bubbles rippling on the surface indicate daffy’s presence. he pokes his head out to heave a teasing quack at the befuddled hunter before dipping back down again, prompting egghead to stick his rifle in the lake. cue a tried and true gag that was likely much funnier then than now: the ol’ tie-the-gun-into-a-bow trick.

the next gag is one that tex avery would refurbish in his MGM debut, the early bird dood it!: egghead physically lifts the lake up like a blanket, where daffy appears just in time to give his nose another honk for good measure. cue crazed laughter and intricate water aerobics. daffy halts, addressing the audience directly with a flimsy reassurance: “i’m not crazy, i just don’t give a darn!”

irv spence takes the next showdown between hunter and duck. look at how much more appealing egghead is in his hands! egghead leans down to retrieve his gun he tosses aside, when daffy zooms into frame and fights him for it. daffy’s consistent smile as he and egghead battle for dominance, both trying to reach higher and higher on the gun, is hysterical—he’s absolutely getting a kick out of egghead’s frustration. though it was clear he was reveling in porky’s own anger in porky’s duck hunt, here his enjoyment is much more blatant. he loves being a pest.

daffy slides the rifle beneath his legs and out of sight, bopping egghead on the fist and causing him to slug a haymaker against his own head. signature irv spence grawlixes add a nice level of two dimensional graphic design, like something straight from a comic.

out of nowhere, a random turtle disrupts the altercation. the turtle is a parody of parkykarkus from the chase & sanborn hour, speaking in a thick accent and slightly butchered grammar. he opts to settle daffy and egghead’s fight once and for all, posing as a referee. “just a minute, chums. just a minute!” he supplies the two with pistols, both fitted for their respective sizes. to daffy, “turn around.” to egghead: “now you turn around.”

i love how daffy’s curiosity with the turtle’s interruption is noticeable. so noticeable, in fact, that the turtle grows hostile, getting up in his face and shouting “KEEP YOUR NOSE OUT OF OTHER PEOPLES BUSINESS, AIN’T IT!” it’s rare to see daffy lacking control of the situation, even this early on.

the two put their backs together per the turtle’s command, walking ten paces backwards in time to the turtle’s countdown. just as the turtle reaches ten, daffy jumps behind egghead, who fires. a potentially gruesome conclusion is avoided as the bullet hits the turtle’s chest instead, causing his head to rocket upward, hit a branch, and shrink back into his shell. in a hardawayian touch, daffy hands egghead a cigar, walking off screen, satisfied.

random as the scene is (hardaway’s influence seems to be particularly strong throughout this whole middle section), irv spence’s timing and appealing animation makes up for it. the switch to another animator entails an inevitable downgrade in draftsmanship.

after egghead realizes he’s been duped, he retrieves his rifle and prepares to shoot daffy. though initially startled, daffy thinks on his feet, and eagerly places an apple on his head for egghead to aim at instead. stalling’s fitting accompaniment of “william tell overture” raises in key each time egghead fires (and subsequently misses), a pattern that sounds almost identical to scott bradley’s scores under the direction of tex at MGM.

egghead shoots a tree, the lake, a barn, and even straight past daffy, who grows increasingly irritated at the hunter’s incompetence, moving closer to him with each effort. hardaway’s influence is strong with the next gag, matched with tex’s fast pace to prevent it from overstaying its welcome: daffy thrusts pencils, sunglasses, and a sign that says BLIND on it before turning to the audience and tssking. “too bad. too bad!” harsh indeed. i imagine this gag would have been prolonged had hardaway directed this cartoon or wrote it under another director.

if anything, this cartoon certainly displays the importance of the relationship between director and writer. writers have a much bigger influence on the cartoon than one might believe! there’s a reason as to why chuck jones and mike maltese are touted around as a dynamic duo. i wouldn’t call hardaway a bad writer by any means, but his influence is certainly potent. tex is a strong director, and thankfully he could cushion the blows of hardaway’s corniness as much as he could, but it’s also evident that certain decisions were made that tex wouldn’t have made in other circumstances.

decisions such as daffy singing an entire ode to his lunacy as the cartoon’s song number. this is definitely a hardawayian insert--a prototype, hayseed, screwball bugs bunny sings his own nutty anthem in hardaway’s hare-um scare-um just a year later. full song numbers have been making their way out the door in avery’s cartoons, and by either this year or next they’d be absent in total from the merrie melodies series. it’s unlike avery to write a whole song about characters explaining their nuttiness.

that is why i have qualms with the scene. at his zenith, daffy never attempts to explain or justify his screwiness. even in the mid-’40s, when he’s able to think and speak coherently and isn’t a mere caricature of his name, he showed no self awareness for his condition. the “look at me, ain’t i a crazy one?” jokes with him were out the door by 1939. half the fun with him is how unaware he is of his daffiness--he lives in it constantly, always zipping from emotional extremes, but never stops to tell the audience just how crazy and fun he is. here, his self-awareness seems ingenuine and prideful. daffy is my favorite character for his humanity and relatability (even--if not more so--when he’s a total loon). here, he lacks that dynamism. he’s merely a stock reflection of his namesake.

with that said, daffy’s rendition of “the merry go round broke down” is my favorite merrie melody song number, period. i’m certainly biased due to my undying affinity with daffy, but irv spence’s animation is genuinely fun to watch, and mel blanc does a wonderful performance. i know all of the words by heart! essentially, daffy’s justification for his daffiness is because the dizzy pace of the merry go round went to his head and made him nuts. while this sense of bragging is relatively out of character for him, it makes for a contagiously fun song, and also, this is his second film ever. they still had much to explore.

the scene concludes with daffy shaking hands with his reflection in the water and diving back in. fade out and in to egghead, still furiously attempting to pursue his prey. cue a fun little avery gag where our hunter nonchalantly opens the reeds he’s hiding behind like a pair of blinds. daffy’s carefree quacking and swimming in the lake almost seems to mock him. in a gag that would be reused in avery’s lucky ducky over at MGM to a greater extent, daffy puts on a mask to scare away the oncoming bullets. indeed, the bullets retreat into egghead’s gun, prompting befuddled stares at both the gun and the audience.

daffy engages in another round of spastic water aerobics, HOOHOOing all the way. he only pauses to cling to a cattail, echoing an averyian daffy catchphrase that he would also shriek in daffy duck in hollywood, “ain’t i some cutie? ahah! i think i’ll do it again! HAHAHA!”

a nice, jazzy score of “bob white (whatcha gonna swing tonight?)” accompanies yet another endeavor by egghead. he’s either stupidly bold or boldly stupid to keep up such a tiring charade--or both! egghead loads a pair of gloves tied to a string into the barrel of the rifle, cleverly using a cattail as a bore brush. and, despite the absurdity of his makeshift fishing pole, it works: one gloved hand grabs daffy by the neck, the other konking him on the head and knocking him unconscious. egghead reels in his prize, dumping daffy into a net and letting out a handful of gleeful “WHOOPEE!”s.

avery’s timing is succinct--immediately after egghead snags his duck, the sound of a siren drowns out his celebration. a duck nearly identical to daffy approaches the scene in an “asylum ambulance”. “gee, t’anks a lot for catchin’ dis goof!” duck confiscates his fellow duck comrade. the decision to turn the conversation confidential, complete with the lowering of the voice and shifty-eyed glances is great. “y’know, we been after dis guy for months!”

despite everything that egghead has endured, he seems genuinely shocked at the duck’s claim that daffy is “100% nuts”. “oh YEAH?” he echoes, daring to believe it. duck nods. “yeeeeah!” with that, he gives egghead a honk right on the nose.

daffy, completely unscathed, wastes little time in joining the festivities as both ducks beat the tar out of egghead from both ends, literally kicking him in the arse and honking him on the nose. both ducks head to the lake, HOOHOOing in shrill unison as they bound off into the horizon. egghead only has one more option... to join them. thus, we iris out on our brave hunter HOOHOOing into the horizon himself.

as i said at the beginning of this review, this cartoon is one of my favorites--for this era, anyway. despite its imperfections, it’s still a rather fun and rousing cartoon. it’s exciting to see daffy becoming more recognizable, in terms of voice, demeanor, and appearance. the same can be said for egghead as well, though i doubt anyone has the same attachment to him as they do other characters. i certainly don’t.

admittedly, porky’s duck hunt is a more solid cartoon. this cartoon feels much more like a string of gags than anything, though i suppose that could be said for many a tex avery cartoon. he wasn’t known for his moving stories. hardaway’s corny, hayseed sense of humor serves as the biggest detriment to the cartoon, but luckily tex is a strong enough director to try and work around those weaknesses as best he could. and even though i disagree with the reasoning behind the song number, the song number will always be my favorite merry melody song.

i didn’t mention the backgrounds very often, but they’re STELLAR. the colorful, whimsical palette brings a lot of energy and vitality to the table. if you were to describe the cartoon in one word, “energetic” would certainly be it.

so, with that said, go watch it! this is a really fun cartoon that serves as an interesting look into early daffy’s character, obnoxious as he may be.

link!

#lt #daffy duck and egghead #looney tunes #reviews #avery #long post

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ichorizaki · 4 years

Text

part of your world—s.d.

꒰ ❛ genre ❜ ꒱ — fluff. just, pure fluff

꒰ ❛ pairing ❜ ꒱ — timeskip!sawamura daichi x f!reader

꒰ ❛ warnings ❜ ꒱ — uhhh some curse words and teeth-rotting fluff, asahi’s terrible fashion taste

꒰ ❛ word count ❜ ꒱ — 2.7k

˚ ༘ˀˀ ꒰‧⁺ a text from sol — ✎ˀ !!! my first req!!! ily ily hehe i had so much fun with this; i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! thank you so much for being patient, @ceo-of-daichi huhu

-`,✎ synopsis! ; ♡ disneyland is just as magical as anyone dreamed for it to be and more.

One of the things that you love about Sawamura Daichi was how he calculated different factors to make sure that his intended outcome was accurate and to his satisfaction. Maybe it was the way his dark brows furrowed in concentration as he mapped out the plans, or perhaps it was in the way he had that small grin that boasted pride when he was done. You didn't know why he was planning so intently for a quick weekend trip to Disneyland Tokyo, but you didn’t quite care because it made for the perfect setting for you to pop the million-dollar question. While you would love to have the trip be just the two of you, you required an audience and moral support, which was why you had Sugawara Kōshi happily laying down in the backseat of the rented car and Azumane Asahi waiting for your arrival at his condominium complex at Ginza, Tokyo.

“Dai, how much further from Tokyo are we? I wanna ride the rollercoasters!” Kōshi complained from the backseat, propping himself up on his elbows. It was a miracle that both you and your boyfriend had heard him over the booming stereo that blasted the Disney playlist curated specially for the trip. He noticed that Daichi had his hand gripping your thigh where it was exposed by your denim shorts and made a gagging noise. “I thought I wasn’t gonna third-wheel.”

“We’re not even making out, you drama queen,” Daichi snorts. His eyes drifted from the rearview mirror to the GPS he was following on his phone next to the steering wheel. “We’re about fifteen minutes from the checkpoint.”

“Finally. Fifteen minutes more and I won’t be the only third-wheel.” You laughed at his comment as he went back to laying down in the backseat, scrolling through his phone and singing along to the songs. In his impatience, you knew it was excitement. Partially for Disneyland, but you knew the real reason behind it: the small velvet box sitting in your Kanken bag that sat by your feet.

Kōshi has been your partner in crime ever since your Karasuno days. You knew he had your back when it came to anything that consisted of the element of surprise, as you had his. You’ve said it a thousand times and you’ll say it again: the Karasuno VBC should be glad that you weren’t one of the managers. Otherwise, you were sure that their productivity would fall drastically.

Feeling your boyfriend’s calloused hand give your thigh a slight squeeze dragged your eyes from your phone screen to his beautiful face. You raised your eyes in question before he nudged his chin towards what lay beyond the glass windows, eyes fixated on the road. You followed his gaze and a small gasp of surprise left your lips.

It was by no means your first time in Tokyo but it never fails to take your breath away every time you near the border. Silver buildings line the landscape, blindingly glinting as they reflected the meridian sun. Billboard signs were but a blur of colours as Daichi drove past. You could practically smell the metallic scent of the metropolitan metal forest.

“Kōshi! Look!” You cried out, the palms of your hands flat against the glass along with your cheek as you tried to get closer to the scenery in the confines of the car. The second you passed the checkpoint and were cleared, the excitement was blatantly obvious in the way it seemed to send jitters down your spine. “Ah, I can’t wait to see ‘Sahi. I’m so glad he agreed to come out of his shell and spend time with us.”

“Right?” Kōshi got up from his position to squeeze his torso in between your seat and Daichi’s. “Man, I can’t wait to go feral at Disneyland and sleep for free in a downgraded hotel.” Daichi couldn’t help but laugh at the statement that his friend had made in reference to Asahi’s place. He had offered his condominium as accommodation for the night. You guessed that he was tired of being so lonely in such a spacious living space. The last time you checked, you were sure that he had two guest rooms which was perfect for the three of you.

Daichi continued driving into the city, easily finding his way to Asahi’s condominium complex. He was waiting there, scrolling through his phone in what could easily be the most tourist-y getup. He didn’t notice the vehicle pull up before him, which prompted you to wind your window down to call for him. Kōshi mirrored your actions, calling for him by his favourite nickname since high school.

“Oi, Negative Beardy!” He giggled as the bigger man looked up from his phone. His hair was cropped short, his previous peach fuzz now a well-groomed beard. He got up from his seat and you couldn’t help but notice the neon green fanny pack standing out exceptionally from his ensemble. You didn’t hold back the laughter and neither did your boyfriend as the clumsy man slid into the backseat next to Kōshi, the apples of his tanned cheeks a bright pink.

“Five months and the first thing you do is tease me . . .” Asahi sighed.

“How can we not when you look like a tourist?” Daichi countered as he began to drive out of the complex. “For a fashion designer, you sure do have a terrible sense.”

“Yeah, ‘Sahi,” you chimed in. “Isn’t the neon green fanny pack a little overkill?”

“Huh? Then where am I gonna put my wallet and phone on rides?” The three of you laughed it off, leaving a resigned Asahi shaking his head. Years may have passed and there may have been distance among the four of you but the chemistry was still there.

The drive from Ginza to Urayasu was about twenty minutes, but time seemed to fly by when you’re having fun because the next thing you know, the four of you were climbing out of the car with entry tickets in hand and standing in line. It was late into the season of spring and you could smell it distinctly in the air. The breeze was nice and chilly against where your skin was exposed as the sun cast a mighty glow upon the citizens of Tokyo, excitement buzzing in your veins like static electricity as you bounced back and forth on the balls of your feet.

Kōshi was the only other person who was being loud about his excitement, running as soon as he was granted entry into the magical grounds of Disneyland. You bounded after him, your voice disappearing into the large expanse of space as you screamed out loud.

“Y/N! People are staring, you idiot,” Daichi called out after you, taking your hand in his as soon as he caught up. You gave him a cheeky grin and wink along with a finger gun with your free hand. Now that you were finally at Disneyland, all you had to do was wait for the opportunity to make this fine man yours for the rest of your life. Kōshi gasped when he saw your linked hands and immediately turned to look at Asahi who tucked his hands behind his back in response.

The four of you started off at World Bazaar, taking a tour on the omnibus around the plaza before deciding to go in hard and strong at the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Adventureland. Needless to say, Asahi was the only one who emerged trembling like a leaf. You felt like a high school student once again, spending time with your best friends and your crush in what appeared to be a fantasy-like wonderland. Your laughter filled the air as screams and children’s excitement harmonised along.

Regardless of where you ventured in the theme park, you were smiling and laughing and running around like a child with Kōshi as Asahi and Daichi both looked on. The former was visibly embarrassed by the commotion that the both of you were causing while the latter simply bemused by how happy you were. Hell, simply ‘happy’ didn’t cut it. You were in absolute childlike ecstasy as you pulled him along to the different rides and exhibitions, asking him to take your picture with Daisy Duck or Peter Pan or some character whose name he had forgotten. He was completely enthralled by you and knowing that you were his simply sent his mind reeling and his heart thumping against his ribcage as he fondled with the navy blue box nestled in the pocket of his bermuda shorts.

To say that you were nervous was an understatement. You were about to ask the man you love if he wanted to spend the rest of his natural life with you. You kept telling yourself that you had no reason to be nervous, that no matter what his answer was, you’d respect it. It was only natural that you were restless, right? The adrenaline that flowed through your veins was keeping you on your toes at every exhibit, show, ride, and parade that the four of you spectated with bright, eager smiles.

It was only when the stunning blue of the sky began to mix with swirls of salmon pink and golden melting through fluffy whites were the four of you sitting on one of the benches outside Cinderella’s castle. Families of both locals and tourists had ice cream crêpes in hand as they strolled languigly. You had an ice pop in hand, sharing it with Daichi as he sat next to you whilst cooling himself with the electric handheld fan that you had brought along.

Kōshi was staring dead into your eyes, his silver eyebrows furrowing just the slightest bit as he nudged his chin not-so-subtly to an inattentive Daichi. You scowled silently back at him, wordlessly telling him that it probably wasn’t the right time. Probably. But then he went ahead and gave you a smug look that called you a coward for chickening out whenever the opportunity presented itself by neatly dropping into your laps.

He wasn’t wrong. You had the perfect opportunity to propose just about an hour ago during one of the parades at Fantasyland. Mickey had pulled you in for a dance on the road, and after your little grooving session, you had dragged your boyfriend who was reticent but never tried to hide the fond smile on his face. Poor Kōshi had wasted a good percentage of his battery filming several almost-proposals only for you to chicken out at the last second. You were sure that you weren’t going to hear the end of it if you didn’t get down on one knee to propose in the next hour.

“Do you still want the ice pop?” Daichi asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned to him, shaking your head. Now’s the time, you told yourself. No more backing out. You were going to ask this man to be your partner in life and that was final. How could you not? You’ve known this man close to two decades. He had been by your side the whole time, through the ups and downs, never once letting go of you even when you told him to. To you, he looked no different than he did when you first met him at the shy blossoming age of 15. He bulked a little and sure, there were smile lines and some wrinkles, but that was it. He’s still the same Sawamura Daichi that you fell in love with. “My love, is everything okay? Is there something on my face?”

“Huh?” You blinked. Crap, were you staring at him too obviously? You quickly told him that no, there wasn’t anything on his face other than absolute beauty, to which his cheeks flushed red. Kōshi was staring at you—you knew it from the glaring burning on the side of your face—and you finally reached your arm behind you where your bag was, nervously trying to take the violet box from the confines of the small pocket. You heard Kōshi whisper-yell a not-so-subtle “Yes!” as he fumbled around to fish his phone out.

Daichi’s ochre brown eyes never left your face as he watched you get up from the bench to sink down onto one knee before him. You felt your heart stammering in a jittery, shaking, quaking panic as your cheeks burned beet red. He was patient, waiting and watching you slowly rest your hands over your propped knee. Only then did you realise that the words that you had painstakingly memorised were beginning to disappear from your mind like a drawing in the sand erased up by waves.

“Daichi,” you began. There’s no going back now. “I never thought I’d ever find someone who’s my best friend and lover. I wouldn’t say that you’re my saviour or some shit cause that’s really cringey.” You briefly paused, swallowing the lump in your throat as you tried your best to fight back the tears. Why did you have to get emotional now? You cleared your throat, “Um. Listen. I’m in love with you. I had a script and I forgot what were the specific words on it, but I know this for sure: I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to watch you grow old and have kids who are gonna have kids, who are then gonna have kids, and then we’ll be sitting on rocking chairs at the patio of our house in the countryside, watching the sunset.

“I– fuck, this is embarrassing. But, yeah. I love you, and I’m just here to complete the final objective. I’ve taken your jackets, your firsts, and your heart, and I think it’s time I take your last name.” From the corner of your eyes, you noticed there were a few people standing by to watch. Some of them were obviously tourists and the fact alone made your entire face flush pink. Your eyes were trained on Daichi’s handsome face as he let a lone tear escape before quickly wiping it away and sniffling. He had that smile on his face—the very one that made your heart throb and sing hallelujah—and you couldn’t help but smile too as you revealed the golden ring seated intricately in a sea of white silk of the velvet box that you were holding. “So whaddya say, Dai?”

The second he got down on one knee and took out an identical velvet box from the pocket of his shorts, you let out a loud groan, throwing your head back to stop the tears from flowing freely down your face. You heard the spectators cheer and laugh, and also Kōshi screaming right behind you. Your teeth abused your bottom lip when you returned your tear-filled gaze to him, arms going limp by your sides. You refused to believe this was happening. It was the last thing that you had expected from Daichi, but life was full of surprises, wasn’t it?

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he mused. The corner of his lip curled upward into a sly smirk but the amount of love brimming in his eyes told a different story entirely. “What do you think?” By then, you had tears raining as you folded your feet underneath you so you could sit down and process everything. Even then, you were bawling your eyes out, holding his calloused hands in yours as he heartily laughed, kissing your tears away and pushing your hair out of your face.

“I think I wanna marry the fuck out of you, Dai.” Your shoulders trembled as your heart sang a euphoric tune that you never thought you’d be able to achieve. His bare, warm arms wrapped around you to guide you to sit down on the bench. He took his time wiping your tears and putting the ring on your finger before he did the same for himself.

“Tsk, babe, there are children here.” His teasing chides fell on deaf ears as Asahi and Kōshi joined the both of you, congratulations and teasing filling the atmosphere. You didn’t care that there were children there. Disneyland is one hell of a magical place, and you were just beyond thankful it turned all of your dreams into a reality.

#sawamura daichi #sawamura daichi x reader #haikyuu x reader #sawamura daichi x you #haikyuu fic #hq #꒰⚡️꒱ ⨾ zeus’ thunderbolt #bbthots

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onebadwinter · 3 years

Text

The Joker Tropes Part 2

Taken From Here and here

Nether Realm Studios especially seems to love making Joker out to be evil incarnate. In Injustice: Gods Among Us and its sequel, he loses all his cred (and life) once he nukes Metropolis; Harley ditches him entirely, Batman just completely gives up on indulging him any more, even Guest Fighters like Hellboy consider him worthless, and non-Batvillains such as Grodd and Brainiac and even Darkseid loathe him for either Metropolis, or just in general principle. Mortal Kombat 11 shows that even the MK cast see him as a scourge upon the realms, and also express distaste toward him for either his nuking, a previous outing, or because he's seen as a buffoon who cannot be taken seriously (this is usually the case for other villain characters).

About the only person who can tolerate him for long is Lex Luthor, only because they both have the same level of hatred for their respective enemies. Even then, Luthor prefers to keep his distance from the Joker, if only because a bored Joker screws with everything For the Evulz.

In the animated series, he claims to have been beaten as a child when interviewed by Harley Quinn. It is unknown if this is true. According to Batman, he's simply making it up.

In one issue of New 52, he claims to have been driven insane by an abusive grandmother, who also bleached his skin to its present pallor.

In the same continuity, he is one to a baby gorilla he adopts, trains up as a gun-wielding henchman, and ultimately gets killed off for laughs.

In the comic book adaptation of Injustice, it's implied Harley fears Joker would be one, and gives their daughter to her sister, lest he kill the child. It's left ambiguous whether the Joker's even aware of the ruse.

Averted in one story, wherein one of Arkham's doctors realizes Joker's faking insanity just to piss off Batman as revenge for his disfigurement. Another doctor finds the report and excitedly reveals it to the current head doctor, only to learn that the Joker left it for everyone to read, since the paper's written by Harley Quinn, and therefore worthless as evidence.

In Batman: The Man Who Laughs, it's established that the name "The Joker" was given to him by the media, and he liked it so much that he decided to call himself that.

The same happens in Joker (2019), where Murray tells the audience to "look at this joker" when talking about Arthur. Arthur took it to heart.

Batman: Arkham Knight takes this even further by revealing that being forgotten is the only thing the Joker truly fears.

Just to demonstrate how much disregard he has for his henchmen, a reoccurring motivation for offing his own lackeys is failing to laugh at one of his jokes. Or laughing too late. Or laughing for too long. Or laughing at the wrong joke. He's... unpredictable.

The Joker loves it when people laugh with him, whether genuine or not, but if someone laughs at him, they're most likely already dead.

Joker loves attention and being above the normals, so never imply that he's not interesting or unique. Terry exploits this flaw in Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker just to drive him to a Villainous Breakdown.

The Batman Who Laughs. Since the character's first appearance in Dark Nights: Metal, the mere mention of him is enough to put The Joker in an uncharacteristically un-jolly mood and is a good way to get on his bad side. In fact, the dislike of this twisted version of his archnemesis is so great, that when Lex Luthor and The Legion of Doom started cooperating with him against Joker's protests, he quit the legion (after non-lethally jokerizing every other member of it) in disgust.

If you're going to hurt Batman, do it right. One of the supplementary stories for Joker War had him beyond furious with Bane - to the point of promising him he'd kill him in a way he would never see coming - for showing so little imagination in killing Alfred in City of Bane without even letting Batman listen to it to torture him. By his reckoning, if you have a great gag to break the Bat, use it to break the Bat - don't blow it by having Robin be the only one to witness it.

Originally Conrad Veidt from The Man Who Laughs.

Later portrayals base themselves on his actors, with Cesar Romero a popular candidate, and after Jack Nicholson came in, artists such as Alex Ross base him on him, such as the actor's distinct widow's peak and slicked back hair.

During Knightfall he and Scarecrow killed several members of a SWAT team, and one of his last actions in Batman: No Man's Land was to kill Commissioner Gordon's second wife, Lt. Sarah Essen.

One of the alternate realities seen in Zero Hour! was one where he killed Commissioner Gordon instead of crippling Barbara.

Part of the reason Gordon takes over the post of Commissioner in both The Dark Knight Trilogy and Batman: Arkham Series is due to the Joker killing Gillian Loeb. Additionally, the first game in the latter series, Asylum, he sees several of Arkham's guards killed by him and his men.

He's holding a dead cop's corpse in his intro in Injustice: Gods Among Us and using it as a puppet. He also talks to the body of one of the Regime enforcers who captured him once he breaks out and heads to Gotham.

Whether he was driven insane or was already insane and became completely bonkers.

Where he is on the spectrum between "wacky prankster" and "utterly depraved and sadistic sociopath and murderer".

Whether he is a senseless, performative terrorist wreaking havoc for kicks or a deceptively cunning and competent criminal mastermind. Or both. Usually both.

He's no Batman, but sometimes he is a proficient hand-to-hand combatant, Knife Nut or marksman, and other times a flimsy wimp who goes down in one punch. In some of the grittier settings, his raw strength, numbness to pain and viciousness are enough to level the playing field with Batman.

Whether he actually loves Harley Quinn varies. In the animated series, (where Harley first appeared) the writers haveoutright said he's a sociopath incapable of loving anyone, and just sees her as a useful mook. Some other works imply he really does love her on some level (although he's usually still an abusive asshole.)

He can either be Faux Affably Evil, Laughably Evil, just a Monster Clown, or some combination of the three.

At least one such incident implied he would be interested in Batman... but only after he was dead. Again this may only have been a tactic to get under Batman's skin or truthful admission. The readers will never know for certain.

His plot in The Killing Joke is to put Jim Gordon through the wringer hard in the hopes of driving him mad. He'll also try to drive Batman over the edge (particularly, drive him to break his "no killing" rule), sometimes by cutting off all of Batsy's human connections.

The Dark Knight reworks it into Driving Gotham To Senseless Violence with wanton acts of destruction or terrorism, just to prove everyone's as bad as him deep down.

Ironically, a 1952 story has the Joker get himself falsely committed to an insane asylum, to question a patient who knew the location of a cache of money. The end of the story has him Laughing Mad due to a prank Batman used to disguise his identity.

He didn't have his signature laugh. This seems to have been a way to "goofy up" the character to make him less terrifying in the days of the Comics Code Authority. Later on, he'd learn to giggle while remaining terrifying.

He actually committed crimes for moneynote , and wasn't really interested in causing chaos or terror for a joke's sake.

Building off of that, his plans weren't really "insane" until the Silver Age (at which point it's not even fair to say this was exclusive to him), nor was there any question of the character's mental stability.

His obsession with Batman wasn't there, much less the idea that he would pass up chances to kill the Bat or learn his identity. This aspect was probably introduced to explain the Bond Villain Stupidity he (and every Batman villain) had become infamous for in the Silver Age.

His clown-like complexion was actually makeup in his early appearances. He even removed his makeup to disguise himself as a cop, which was referenced in The Dark Knight. It's later revealed that the look is permanent after falling in a vat of chemicals.

The Brave and the Bold #111 and #191 have him team up with Batman to clear his name after being framed for several murders. The first instance turned out to simply be a framing the guilty part occasion but the second instance was actually genuine on Joker's part (except the person Joker seemingly murdered turned out to be faking their death).

He also does this with Batman whenever The Batman Who Laughs is involved (specifically in the Dark Knights: Metal series).

He abruptly ends a partnership with Red Skull when his Nazi affiliation comes out. Red Skull simply wonders why he is so surprised when he thinks that the Joker would make a great Nazi. The Joker is NOT happy about this, proclaiming "I may be a criminal lunatic, but I'm an American criminal lunatic!" It even provides the trope's image. And yes, folks, even an equal-opportunity murderer like the Joker despises the Nazis!note

The exception is mentioned again in the Last Laugh arc where the Joker immediately refused to join the American Neo-Nazi Aryan Alliance group in the Slab after he was offered membership. Joker: I'm evil and all that, but you guys are just plain mean.

Will not harm dumb animals and doesn't condone it. There's no humor to be had in that. Higher primates apparently do not qualify but a lot more effort went into that one.

While in Arkham with villain Warren White, AKA the Great White Shark, Joker calls him the worst person he ever met. He states that while he may kill people, even he doesn't steal their kids' college funds.

Sees nothing funny about someone parking in a handicap spot when they're not handicapped. However, he does think it's hilarious to hurt them in ways that will make certain they'll always be able to park there.

A girl named Janey Bennett, whose class was studying criminal behavior, became pen pals with the Joker while he was in Arkham. When Janey revealed that her father, the mayor of Motor City, was abusing her (exactly how isn't specified, though it was implied to have been really bad) the Joker broke out and, convinced that the authorities would be of no help, tried to force the mayor into admitting to his crimes and giving him Janey (so that he could find a better home for her) by threatening to contaminate the city's blood supply, going through with it (because the ends justify the means) when the mayor refused to give in to his demands. He originally intended to give her to Batman as well so he could protect her but at the end decided to give her to her mom. Joker: I mean, stealing a city blind is something I can admire... but being mean to one's own daughter... that just makes my blood boil.

For a rather literal form of "standard", the Joker's team-up with Carnage in Spider-Man and Batman: Disordered Minds fell apart in part because the Joker, known for his love of theatrics, found Kasady's desire to get straight to killing boring. Conversely, Kasady didn't like the Joker's flair for theatrics.

The Joker absolutely loathes The Batman Who Laughs, to the point where he drops his usual joking demeanor and is deathly serious whenever directly referring to him, even willing to work together with Batman to face him when it comes down to it. When Lex Luthor goes behind his back to make a deal with The Batman Who Laughs (going against the only condition Joker has for joining his plan), Joker responds by Joker-gassing the Legion of Doom, putting Lex into a series of deathtraps, trashing Lex's Power Armor, and quitting the Legion. In the process, he tells Luthor how he had planned on ruining the Legion utterly on the verge of victory, and as nightmarish as his plan sounded, he claims it is nothing compared to what the Batman Who Laughs is going to do.

While he still gloated about it and found Commissioner Gordon kneecapping him funny after remember that he'd crippled Barbara, the actual act of killing Sarah Essen in the penultimate issue of Batman: No Man's Land is one of the few times the Joker wasn't happy with something he himself did, considering he's seen walking away while scowling afterward, leaves the babies he originally planned to murder unharmed and immediately turns himself in to the police.

Emperor Joker sees the Joker disgusted with a corrupted Jimmy O Lsen tormenting the Superfamily and Batman when they're turned int animals.

Later one he is disgusted when his minions vandalize the Moai on Eastern Island.

Again, when he rescues Lex from The Batman Who Laugh's infected minions in Hell Arisen, the mere mention of his alternate universe rival prompts him to have a very uncharacteristic Freak Out. The Joker: I told you. I told you not to deal with him. You should have shot that thing in the head the second you had it in a cage! It is wrong. It is a wrong thing.

Played more straight in his relationship with Punchline. Only time will tell if it lasts.

There’s also a comic storyline when Hush informed that a dirty cop Office Halmet killed his wife Jeannie. The Joker wanted nothing more than to kill said cop in revenge. Then there’s Batman: Three Jokers where, despite it being being heavily implied he was abusive, the “Comedian” Joker is seen setting up fake tea parties with dolls, clearly trying to substitute them for his wife and child showing that he does miss them and desire to be a family with them.

While The Dark Knight is one of the few times the Joker's clown-like appearance is the result of make-up, he does sport a Glasgow Grin.

While Joker still has the permanent clown look, it's combined with the Glasgow Grin.

While Batman: Endgame would see the skin of his face restored with a chemical called Dionesiumnote , at the start of The New 52, the Joker had the Dollmaker skin his face and then, after he recovered it, spent Death of the Family wearing it like a Leatherface-esque mask. And even in Endgame, his restored face ends up badly burned as the result of the finale battle between him and Batman, though it still ends up restored again.

Gotham sees neither Valeska escape this. After his death in season 2, Jerome (the proto-Joker) ends up resurrected in season 3, but because Dwight thinks his attempt to revive him failed, Dwight ends up cutting off Jerome's face ala Death of the Family and Jerome ends up stapling it on when he catches up with Dwight and while he later has it properly reattached, there's still scars from what happened. Jeremiah, Jerome's twin and the show's true Joker, ends up with the "perma-clown" appearance due to Jerome having the Scarecrow brew something up to spray in Jeremiah's face, but season 5 sees his fateful fall at Ace Chemicals badly scar his face and sear off most of his hair with only stringy patches left.

Averted entirely in Joker (2019), where his clown appearance is entirely makeup, and the worst it gets is painting his iconic smile on his face with his own blood from a car crash. Not even a Glasgow Grin or anything, the blood is from his hand and his face only has a few normal cuts on it.

While Batman is a rather serious character who refuses to kill anyone, The Joker is a rather comical character who revels in death.

Joker's gadgets tend to be rather goofier but much more lethal, such as the Joker Venom that he often uses to kill his victims.

While Batman gets along well with his sidekicks Robin and Batgirl, Joker frequently abuses his sidekick Harley Quinn and has tried to kill her before, not to mention all the times he has been a Bad Boss by killing his henchmen for any reason you can think of, sometimes for no reason at all.

While Batman's backstory is well known, even by the citizens of Gotham who know of the tragedy of the rich Waynes' in Crime Alley, no one knows anything about the Joker's backstory, but most versions he tells are consistent in two things: he was a nobody, and possibly someone poor.

In most adaptations, his voice is high-pitched in contrast to Batman's Badass Baritone.

Why he went by the name the Red Hood has changed over the years: The Killing Joke claims he was a failed comedian driven to crime to support his pregnant wife. The trauma of his disfigurement from jumping in the acid and his wife's earlier accidental death drove him insane. However, even this backstory is questionable, as the Joker himself calls it "multiple choice".

In Injustice 2, an intro with Atrocitus has the Red Lantern wondering what drove the Joker to nihilism.

In the animated series, he claims to have been abused as a child when interviewed by Harley, but according to Batman, it's just another ruse to escape Arkham.

The purple suit and matching pants with either an orange and/or green shirt with a bowtie or tie, remains the definitive Joker look one that many artists and costume designers have given spin on. He is sometimes known for wearing a cool hat but other times goes hatless. Heath Ledger's custom-designed purple long-coat, trousers, blue shirt and green Waistcoat of Style with a tie has likewise become iconic and famous for its contemporary and downright stylish update on the classic look.

The original Red Hood outfit which is a black suit, white shirt, bowtie with an opera cap and a bizarre red dome is also quite famous.

The Hawaiian tourist outfit he wore in the notorious scene in The Killing Joke.

The white suit he wears in Miller's The Dark Knight Returns as well as the white nurse maid outfit with red wig in The Dark Knight is also quite notable.

The Future Joker look from Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker which went with a mime look (black body suit, slicked-back hair) is also quite distinct and unique.

The first issue of Batman with Joker's debut has him described as having "burning, hate-filled eyes" and the moniker, "the harliquin of hate".

The Man Who Laughs had Bruce dosed with a light version of the Joker Venom and he felt his perspective shift into a paranoid vengeance were he felt everyone deserved to be punished for his parent's death just for existing.

Death of the Family had Batman describe how Joker's irises are always narrow when looking at anyone but Batman and that it is usually an indication of negative feelings toward something with Bruce mentioning that his eye are the eyes of someone who hates everything he sees.

In the Justice League storyline "Rock of Ages", Martian Manhunter has to put in incredible effort to reorganize Joker's mind long enough for him to give up the cataclysmic Philosopher's Stone. The briefly sane Joker immediately says My God, What Have I Done? verbatim as he hands it back, before quickly losing his mind and going back to the laughing madman.

The famous example from the end of The Killing Joke, where Batman tries to convince him to allow Batman to rehabilitate him before their vendetta kills them. Joker considers it for a long, somber moment before quietly reflecting that they're both too far gone.

Batman: Cacophony ends with Joker being pumped full of an inhuman amount of antipsychotic drugs to keep him under control while in recovery from a near-fatal stabbing. Batman takes the opportunity to have a relatively-sane conversation with him, though it's somewhat subverted by Joker still being a homicidal sociopath even while heavily sedated.

He even gives multiple reasons on how he came Back from the Dead in Injustice 2 and will go along with whatever his opponent thinks is true, despite being Dead All Along in story mode and only appearing as a hallucination to his ex-moll.

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns sees him kill David Endochrine and Ruth Weisenheimer, who were clearly based on David Letterman and Dr. Ruth Westheimer.

During Knightfall, once he realizes that Azrael isn't Batman, his plan's gone to hell, and one too many criticisms from Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert stand-ins, he kills the stand-ins.

In one of the issues for the The Batman tie-in comic, The Batman Strikes, he terrorizes a stand-in for Conan O'Brien. This becomes darkly Hilarious in Hindsight as the real O'Brien voiced Endochrine in the animated version of Batman: The Dark Knight Returns. In the series proper, Harley's debut had the two of them terrorize a stand-in for Dr. Phil for the climax.

If you want to know how truly terrifying The Batman Who Laughs is, look no further than the way Joker acts whenever discussing him. He doesn't laugh, he doesn't smile. He becomes calm and serious and simply tells whomever he's talking to that the TBWL is "a wrong thing that shouldn't exist". Someone HAS to be scary if the very thought of him makes Joker act like a calm rational sane person.

In Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker, the clown has a massive Villainous Breakdown when Terry mocks him for his failed attempts to break Batman.

On the rare occasion Joker gets bored and leaves Gotham, expect everyone to think of him as just a silly clown, until the bodies start piling up.

One issue of the Robin Series had him talking about having Abusive Parents, only for a psychiatrist to tell him it's the seventh story he's told now.

Batman lampshades on this to Harley in the animated series, thinking it's another lie to gain sympathy.

The Killing Joke claims he was a failed comedian driven to crime to support his pregnant wife. The trauma of his disfigurement and his wife's earlier accidental death drove him mad. However, even this could be a lie, as he himself calls it "multiple choice".

It's even discussed in Injustice 2, as Atrocitus wonders what drove the Joker to nihilism. Despite only appearing as a hallucination to Harley in story mode, he spews out multiple theories for his Unexplained Recovery and will say Sure, Let's Go with That in non-canon fights. Was he resurrected by someone, or is he from another universe? Did he escape from either the Source Wall or the Phantom Zone, or is he just an apparition?

Shadow of the Bat #38, Tears of a Clown: He celebrates his anniversary of the day he was a still sane, but hapless comedian, and was thrown out of an exclusive Stand-Up Comedy club for an unfunny act the patrons mercilessly heckled. It was the last straw as he agreed to provide to his family by pulling a job for the Red Hood gang. So he kidnaps all the patrons and reenacts his act with control collars that will kill them when they laugh. Oddly enough, the patrons are hardcore Stand-Up Comedy fans, so they can't remember the number of times they've booed someone. However, even this origin story could be a lie.

It's come to be his primary disfigurement over the original skin bleaching.

In Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker, Terry McGinnis exploits this by delivering an epic Boring Insult so the clown will have a Villainous Breakdown.

King Barlowe proved to be a big one in his Thanatos Gambit in the episode "Joker's Millions" of The New Batman Adventures. In a spiteful Video Will, he gives the clown his millions, revealing in his tape that most of it was fake. Expecting the clown to splurge on it, he won't have enough to pay off the IRS, allowing Barlowe to get the "last laugh" after his death, without the Joker coming after him.

Alan Moore's "I go Loony" from The Killing Joke, an in-panel song-and-dance tune that was eventually made into an actual song belted out in Batman: The Killing Joke.

Batman: The Brave and the Bold has "Where's the Fun in That?" from the episode "Emperor Joker".

Batman: Arkham City ended with him covering The Platters' "Only You (and You Alone)", Batman: Arkham Origins had him cover Hank Williams' "Cold, Cold, Heart" and Batman: Arkham Knight had him provide an original composition, "Can't Stop Laughing".

Action Fashionista: This incarnation of the Joker has a wide variety of garish outfits for every occassion — most of them straight from the comics.

Adaptational Attractiveness: Metal teeth, lack of eyebrows, and tattoos aside, he's still being played by the youthful-looking real life Pretty Boy Jared Leto; especially since the last two cinematic Jokers were a creepy middle-aged gangster with a botched face-lift and a filthy, scarred vagrant (even the mentally unwell clown-for-hire doesn't scream Mr. Fanservice one bit). This version looks more like Marilyn Manson.

Adaptational Nice Guy: A very downplayed example. While he's otherwise the same Clown Prince of Crime we all know and love to hate, he appears to genuinely care for Harley, and even throws her out of a falling helicopter to save her life. Almost any other iteration of the Joker would do that to save his own skin or rid himself of her.

Adaptational Skimpiness: This version of the Joker tends to be shirtless a lot more than he has in any other medium. It mostly seems like an opportunity to show off his tattoos.

Adaptation Distillation: Leto's Joker seems to be less of the "evil philosopher" that Heath Ledger portrayed him as in The Dark Knight, and instead seems to be a cross between the garish, larger-than-life Mark Hamill version from the animated series and the Arkham games, and the creepy, deeply twisted Brian Azzarello version. David Ayer had also stated that he looked specifically to the Golden Age Joker for reference, providing reason for many to believe that Leto's Joker is a modern re-imagining of that incarnation.

Advertised Extra: Heavily featured in Suicide Squad promotional materials, barely appears in the film for more than seven minutes. According to Jared Leto, several of the scenes he shot were not included in the theatrical cut.

Ambiguous Disorder: In Suicide Squad, most of the time the Joker seems... not all there compared to Harley. In addition of psychopathic tendencies, the Joker has random bouts of maniacal laughter, confusion, and slurred speech-like patterns. All attributes that stem from punch-drunk syndrome. Considering he has faced Batman one too many times, it makes sense that the Joker's mental stability is finally catching up to him.

However, come Birds of Prey, they broke up, mirroring the comics where they do have an Relationship Revolving Door. It appears to stick, as Harley publicly calls it quits between the two of them.

His tattoos are very reminiscent of the Joker in All Star Batman and Robin.

Ax-Crazy: Like all the incarnations before him, calling him a violent psychopath is one of the biggest understatements you can make.

Bedlam House: Spent some time at Arkham Asylum, where he met Harley. Then he broke free from it with the help of both Harley and his gang.

Chewing the Scenery: An important part of the character is his theatricality.

Cool Car: A bright purple sports car with underglow lights and a "HAHAHA" license plate.

Dented Iron: It's subtle, but the numerous scars on his body and metal replacement teeth in his mouth are clear signs that his frequent run-ins with Batman are taking their toll.

Disney Death: He seemingly dies in the crash of his helicopter... only to come back to free Harley from her high security prison at the end of Suicide Squad.

The Dreaded: In true Joker fashion, everyone is terrified of him.

Establishing Character Moment: One that takes place before he even makes his official debut in the setting - he killed Robin (a minor) and vandalized his outfit to mock Batman over his inability to save him.

Even Evil Has Loved Ones: Insofar as much as the Joker can love anyone, anyway, but he does seem to genuinely care about Harley. Eventually, subverted.

Evil Has a Bad Sense of Humor: He considers the brutal murder of a minor as a joke he played on Batman. When he's torturing Harleen Quinzel, he promises not to shatter her well-kept teeth while flashing his own hideous metal dentures. When Harleen later has him at gunpoint, Joker just says "please don't kill me, I'll be ya friend" in a snarky tone.

Evil Is Hammy: It's not The Joker if he's not Chewing the Scenery. And, sure enough, he does.

Evil Is Petty: The graffiti on Robin's costume seems to imply that Joker murdered him just to prod at Batman. It is confirmed in Suicide Squad that Joker and Harley killed him.

Evil Laugh: It's kind of his thing. One notable example is when he chuckles while surrounded by an arsenal of weapons.

Fake Shemp: Indie rocker Johnny Goth stood in for Jared Leto in Birds of Prey, in the flashback where he and Harley torture and tattoo the big mafia thug Harley later bumps back into.

Foil: To Batman as usual, but with some new additions. After 20 years, Batman became more jaded and cruel, while the Joker somewhat mellowed out and his criminal activity became more professional. Batman didn't settle down until the death of Superman while the Joker grew attached to Harley Quinn.

In Suicide Squad Griggs' smug indifference about his gambling debt immediately becomes pure terror when he realizes the Joker has gotten involved.

He is so feared that even the likes of Black Mask would rather steer clear of him. Harley's enemies only start gunning for her in Birds of Prey when it's become clear that she's no longer with him.

G-Y

The Ghost:

There is an allusion to him in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice ("HA HA HA Joke's On You, Batman" painted across the chest of the dead Robin's empty suit in the Batcave), but he doesn't actually appear.

He gets mentioned a lot in Birds of Prey, but he's only seen very briefly in some flashbacks, always from the back (including footage from Suicide Squad). There is a whole Deleted Scene where he and Harley have a domestic dispute. Harley leaves the house through the window and the Joker throws her stuffed beaver out through the window. In the film proper, she's just kicked out of the house, with no shot of Mr. J.

Greater-Scope Villain: His role in Batman v Superman. Despite not actually appearing his murder of Robin by this point has driven Batman down a darker, more vengeful path that goes against Batman's traditional moral code; the one that the Joker is always trying to prove is wrong. Batman's rage towards Superman blinds him to the possibility of Lex Luthor being the real threat long enough for Superman to die fighting Doomsday. In a way the Joker's actions contributed to Batman's failure.

Guttural Growler: This Joker is noticeably more snarly than previous incarnations.

Handshake Refusal: He doesn't like to shake hands, as Monster T finds out.

Hell-Bent for Leather: Wears a purple crocodile skin duster at some point in the film.

Jerk with a Heart of Jerk: Despite being a homicidal sociopath, he seems to truly love his girlfriend Harley Quinn. Then in Birds Of Prey, he coldly and violently breaks up with her.

Joker Immunity: He appears to die when his helicopter is shot down about halfway through Suicide Squad. To absolutely no one's surprise, he shows up alive and well in the final scene. It helps that he's the Trope Namer.

Knife Nut: And by God, does he have enough blades.◊

Lean and Mean: This Joker, while muscular, is quite lean, especially compared to the heavily muscled Batman.

Love Epiphany: Well, "love" is pushing it, but Joker realizes his affections for Harley when she dives in the chemical bath that ultimately turned Joker into what he is. Symbolic in the sense she was agreeing to join him in madness. Further adding to the complexity of the scene; Joker was tying up a loose end, having used Harley to escape from Arkham. He lead her to her demise and intended to leave her for death but at the same moment realized she had entered his world and his madness. Joker never anticipated the amount of utter devotion Harley would have for him, something inside him just couldn't walk away from her, so he jumped in to save her.

Manipulative Bastard: He manipulated Harley into helping him escape Arkham because she fell in love with him. When she served her purpose, he would have had her kill herself jumping into a bath of chemicals to prove her feelings. He instead saves her from this demise because he has a Love Epiphany in the moment.

Monster Clown: Like the previous film versions, Joker is an Ax-Crazy criminal with clownish makeup. Green hair notwithsanding, his white makeup, red lipstick and absence of facial scars make him look closer to a mime than his predecessors.

Noble Demon: In Suicide Squad, his whole motivation is to rescue Harley Quinn. His commitment is so strong he doesn't even waste time with pranks or petty acts of cruelty. Everything he does is for someone else.

Only Known By His Nickname: He's only known as The Joker, or "J" / "Mr. J".

Outlaw Couple: He and Harley Quinn are lovers and partners in crime.

Sadist: Even though there was only a few select scenes of him, one of them is him torturing Harley. It's disturbingly obvious that he is positively gleeful over it. And he doesn't seem to have lost any sleep over murdering Robin, either.

Pet the Dog: David Ayer confirms that while he did push Harley out of the falling helicopter, his intent was in fact to save her life.

Satellite Love Interest: To Harley Quinn in Suicide Squad. His characterization revolves entirely around Harley, not even getting involved with the main plot.

Scary Teeth: Several of his teeth are made of metal. According to David Ayer, Batman punched his teeth out after he killed Robin, leading him to replace them with metal teeth.

Screw This, I'm Outta Here!: Although he has a presence at the start of the film, The Joker appears to have left Gotham City to be controlled by Black Mask in Birds of Prey, with Roman saying that Joker has already skipped town.

The Sociopath: He's chaotic and remorseless, much like his previous versions. Special mention goes to his murder of Robin, which he topped off by spray-painting a cruel taunt for Batman onto the boy's costume.

Tattooed Crook: His torso is covered in jester-themed tattoos. He also has a few on his arms and face.

Villain of Another Story: He mainly appeared in Suicide Squad, but his biggest act of villainy to date — killing Robin — happened some years before Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, in which he doesn't appear. The spray-painted message on Robin's empty suit ("Ah ah ah joke's on you Batman!") in the latter film can't be anything else than his doing.

Where Does He Get All Those Wonderful Toys?: Is seen with a rather impressive arsenal of guns and knives. And even says to warden Griggs, at some point, "I can't wait to show you my toys." note Notably, he manages to hijack the gunship which was sent to extract Waller and the squad so he can rescue Harley.

Would Hit a Girl: In the past, the Joker electroshocks and manipulates Dr. Harleen Quinzel into allowing her to fall into a vat of chemicals, in order to become Harley Quinn.

Would Hurt a Child: He killed Batman's sidekick, Robin, while the boy was an underage minor.

You Gotta Have Blue Hair: His hair is bright green.

"Knightmare" Joker

"You won't kill me. I'm your best friend..." Appearances:

Zack Snyder's Justice League

"You need me. You... need me... to help you undo this world you created, by letting her die."

The Joker meets up once more with Batman in the nightmarish alternate future where Darkseid has conquered the Earth and Superman turned evil. But things aren't the same anymore between the two legendary foes.

See also the Knightmare page for more on that setting's characters.

Break Them by Talking: He deliberately tries to agitate Batman by reminding him of how many people have died on his watch.

Cop Killer: He wears a bulletproof vest with at least two dozens police badges on it. Whether these were good cops killed prior to the apocalypse or servants of the oppressive regime of Superman after the apocalypse is not detailed.

Costume Evolution: He has ditched his garish gangster suits for what looks like either a medical gown or a butcher gown, complete with orange gloves and a bulletproof vest with a dozen police badges pinned on it. He got rid of his "Damaged" forehead tattoo, let his hair grow and put red makeup around his mouth, looking closer to more common depictions of the character.

Enemy Mine: He and Batman had the worst kind of enmity imaginable, but the Earth being conquered by Darkseid is enough of a Conflict Killer for them to call a truce and work together to try undoing this mess.

Evil Has a Bad Sense of Humor: He utters the line "We live in a society" while gazing upon the devastated landscape in the trailer. This is clearly a Meme Acknowledgement, and it's quite awkwardly used given the context (is there really any society left in this post-apocalyptic world?). It doesn't appear in the actual film, however. The line was improvised by Leto.

Evil Laugh: Even with the world being in such a sorry state and him still being sane enough to acknowledge how bad the situation is, he'll still let some laughs out, even though they sound more subdued than ever.

Evil Versus Oblivion: Even he sees the necessity of teaming up with Batman to try undoing what Darkseid did to Earth.

Future Badass: He survived the apocalypse brought upon Earth by Darkseid and looks like he's geared for guerilla actions.

My Card: He gives a Joker card to Batman as a symbol of their truce. Shall the Dark Knight want to break that truce, he'd just have to tear that card up. The card could be seen strapped on Batman's assault rifle in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice.

Nice Job Breaking It, Hero!: Joker gets a high reminding Batman how costly his mistakes in the past have been.

The Nicknamer: He nicknames Mera "my little fish stick" and Robin "Boy Wonder".

Progressively Prettier: Despite being worse for wear, this Joker is arguably even better looking than his previous appearance, with his over-the-top tattooed gangster image toned down and his androgyny played up. Ironically, this version also more closely resembles the Heath Ledger incarnation.

Thousand-Yard Stare: He has such a stare when looking at the devastated horizon as he starts talking to Batman.

Villain Has a Point: While he’s the one who killed Robin, he gives Batman a minor What the Hell, Hero? for sending “a Boy Wonder to do a man’s job.”

Vocal Evolution: His voice is much softer and higher pitched than it was in Suicide Squad.

#TheJokerInformation

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botherkupo · 4 years

Text

rednana august 2020, day 27

27: banana peel slip gag

Floria approached the bed with a tiny smile. August was asleep in his cot, and Louis was already settled in their bed, scrolling on his phone while he waited for her. She’d thought it would be more awkward to share a bed with Louis, but he’d accepted the fact so easily that it helped her to relax as well. (Though her stomach still fluttered when she slid under the covers and shuffled closer to him.)

“Louis, look,” she said, and showed him her phone screen. “It’s you.”

He glanced up from his phone, only to groan and fall back against his pillow, dropping his phone on the blanket and covering his face with his hands. “Where did you find that?”

“The internet.”

“Please delete it.”

She snorted and glanced back at the screen. A video of him as Mr Banana slipping on a banana peel was playing on repeat. Every time he tripped, he’d fall dramatically into the splits and make a big show of being hurt while at the same time not showing it. Instead, he’d pull finger guns at the camera and tell the audience to “Stay peachy!”

“This was your first show, wasn’t it?” she said.

“Yes.”

She leaned closer, peering down at him. “Are you that embarrassed of your grand introduction?”

He lowered his hands and sat up—faster than expected. Their faces were close now, and her heart stumbled on its rhythm, so clumsy and quick to change to his beat. He arched his eyebrow and took the phone from her hand, fingers brushing hers in the whisper of a caress. “Look,” he said flatly, and showed her the clip. “Look at that and tell me everything about it is not cringe.”

“I dunno. It’s impressive you can do the splits.”

He snorted. “Not what we’re focussing on here.”

“But you can do them?”

“Yes, Floria. I can do the splits.” His lips curved and he leaned back on his palm. “I actually wanted to be an action star when I was little. Do my own stunts. The whole works.”

She smiled. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah.” His expression softened, turning more distant as if he was thinking of old memories. “Mum and Dad hated it, of course. Made a rule I wasn’t allowed to parkour in the house.”

She laughed and leaned against him, taking her phone from his hand. “Your poor parents.”

“What about you?” he asked, glancing at her. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“Promise you won’t laugh.”

A twinkle entered his eye. “Oh, I don’t know after hearing you say that. I don’t think I can make any promises.”

She grabbed his arm. “Louis.”

He laughed and leaned back more on his palms, making her follow the motion since she was pressed against him. “I promise I’ll do my very best not to laugh.”

She bit her lip, fighting back a smile. “I wanted to be a secret agent. You know, for the DGSE.”

He didn’t laugh, but he did smile in that warm, crooked way that made her feel like he’d wrapped her up in his arms. “We make quite the pair, don’t we? An action hero and a secret agent.”

Flutters stirred inside her, sweet and soaring. A pair. The words felt so right.

Her gaze dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Guess we do,” she murmured.

The hush that settled was like silk wrapping around them, soft and fragile. Her heart pounded faster. It would be so easy to lean in. Terrifyingly easy. But no. She was not going to kiss Louis when they were sharing a bed and she had asked him to be her fake boyfriend. No matter what all the thrumming, fluttering beats inside her wanted, she would not break his trust like that.

She pulled away and shifted to put more space between them, even though her side was left cold and exposed to the loss of him like a tree that had lost its twining neighbour. “Well,” she said, her voice a bit croaky, “we clearly didn’t achieve those dreams. I’m a receptionist at a dental clinic, and you’re a part-time barrister and, uh … what would you call Mr Banana?”

“A man who really needs money.”

She laughed. “Well, for what it’s worth, August loves Mr Banana. He gets excited every time he sees you on television.”

The cheeky glint returned to Louis’ eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, then bit his lip, clearly deciding against it.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing. Just if August is my number one fan, I guess I can live with that.”

She was dead certain that wasn’t what he had intended to say, but she decided not to push it. Maybe he’d been going to bring up how she’d fancied him when she’d only known him as Mr Banana, and she really didn’t want to risk that.

He yawned and settled back against his pillow, placing his phone and glasses on the bedside table. “It’s getting late. We should probably get some sleep.”

She made a humming sound of agreement and handed him her phone so he could place it with his, then she settled down beside him. The light was flicked off with a soft click. Darkness blanketed the room. It was the perfect conditions for sleep, except she couldn’t relax. Every inch of her was hyperaware of the man lying barely an arm’s reach from her. He had might as well have been a magnet and she was his twin, helpless to his pull.

She sighed and rolled to face the other way. No good. It was too close to the edge and somehow made the pull that drew her to him worse. At this rate, she’d just end up feeling more awake.

She shifted onto her back. Lay there. Stared at the ceiling. Fidgeted with the sheet. Glanced at the sliver of light creeping through the gap in the curtains. More staring at the ceiling. A shift of her feet. Scratched her chin. Glanced to the side at his shadowed form.

How much time had passed? A few minutes? An hour? She couldn’t tell.

She sighed again.

“What’s wrong?” he said softly.

“Huh?”

“You keep sighing.”

Heat crawled over her face. Lucky it was dark.

“Are you uncomfortable?” he asked. “You don’t have to stay so close to the edge, you know.”

Her heart thumped faster and she shuffled closer, pulling back like a hesitant butterfly—the non-creepy kind—when her leg brushed his. “Sorry.”

He laughed softly, and his voice was low and husky with tiredness when he spoke. “Relax.” A yawn. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d have to tell you that. Thought you’d be the cuddler type.”

Oh, she was. Most definitely. She just didn’t know if she should snuggle up to him. Too bad her mouth had decided to act on its own.

“Is that an invitation?” she said.

He hummed sleepily. “Don’t care what you do. Just don’t punch me in the face in your sleep or something.”

She laughed. “Has that happened to you before?”

“Mmm.”

She took that as a yes.

Heart pounding, she closed the last few centimetres until her back was pressed to his chest and their bodies were curving together. It was like all the tension drained out of her. This. This was what she had wanted. He threw an arm loosely over her waist, and his chin brushed the exposed skin on her shoulder as he shifted to find a more comfortable position. But even if the unexpected touch sent her pulse stuttering, she soon relaxed into his hold. Into him.

“Night, Floria,” he mumbled.

She closed her eyes, a small smile curving her lips. “Night.”

i cannot do fake dating and not include And There Was Only One Bed for my trope bingo. That is just wrong

#ml #rednana august 2020 #rednana #my writing #and there was only one bed

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caracalfeather · 4 years

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WARNING- Cats and Birds is a mob AU fanfiction of the Arcana game, and is not meant for young audiences and is not meant to offend anyone. Some writing choices were made so characters are out of their canon way of acting and thinking. Please do not be offended by character choices made by the authors and content creators, this story was made for fun and in the way we wanted it to be. The story was not hijacked by any of the authors to make any ships or characters overshadow any other. All content contained in this story has been agreed upon and accepted by all parties in it’s creation.

TW- Cats and Birds contains scenes that may not be suitable with some readers, including themes of violence, smoking/drug use, sex, cursing and various other strong themes. Special warnings for scenes will be posted with chapters. Proceed with caution and Reader’s discretion is advised.

The next morning, Rose shivered against ilya, waking up to a cold room. She wrapped herself in the blanket.

Julian stirred awake, he just laid there and didn’t bother to move, the barking had stopped sometime in the night so Julian wasn’t completely sleepless.

Morning darling.” Rose purred and kissed his neck, smiling “You were rough last night.”

“Hmmmm….you think?” He sighed, caressing her face.

“It was good. But that nickname wasnt your best idea. It was cute though.” She sighed

Julian blushed and hid underneath his pillow. Damn her. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?!??” He groaned into his mattress, her haunting was becoming increasingly annoying as long as that goddamned photo wasn’t burned to ash.

“D-did i do something again?” she looked at him, her smile dropping from her face.

Julian sat up in a hurry and cupped Rose’s face. “No! No darling! It’s not you! God it could never be you.” He sighed, “I think I’m being haunted is all.”

“.......” She looked at him, skeptical and stood up “Im...going to shower…” She picked up her clothes and mumbled.

With rage boiling in his blood Julian dug through the waste basket and tore the photo up. “Good riddance to you, you're ruining everything!” He shouted, the pieces fluttering to the floor. He tore the photo in a few big chunks but Julian was more disappointed in himself more than anyone.

As Rose showered, Plume was downstairs making plans for Rose's next trip heist. It would be a little longer than her last.

Julian was on torture that morning, he slipped on his black gloves, and faced the cell. His mind was not in the right place but a job had to be done.

“Alright. Our queen is heading out for a month or two to chicago. She’s going on a supply run and needs a companion.” Plume set down the map of the route as a few guys volunteered. Meanwhile, Rose was toweling off and packing her bags, mumbling to herself and trying to think if she’d done something to upset ilya. She hurt on the inside and wished she could just disappear into her bed.

He opened the cell and was met by two brown eyes. The woman who was handcuffed was big and she looked….really familiar.

The woman looked up, “look….if you’re here to torture me I already told the big fella that it was all a misunderstanding-“ her eyes flashed and she laughed. “Noooooo…..yes? It can’t be???”

Julian looked into the eyes of...Bèatrice.

“Bèa….what the hell are you doing here?” Julian growled.

Bea spat blood into the concrete. “I could say the same to you, you son of a bitch. We all thought you DIED.”

Julian could not handle this today, he rubbed his temples, “but that’s not why you're here.”

“Right…..I’m here because I was looking for Madeve your dog.” She explained, “he’s been getting out a lot recently and I’ve been helping get him home.”

He nodded and Bèa continued.

“What would she say if she knew you were here? Would she ever forgive you-“

Her words were cut short by a bullet to the head. Julian held the gun with shaking hands and stepped out from the cell. He was probably going to get a scolding from Plume, but it was worth not having to deal with this matter anymore.

Plume looked up from the map at the sound and growled “Damn it. Alright everyone, prep the queen and get ilya.”

Like clockwork Ilya was dragged to Plume. Julian with a blood splattered face was so done with everything and everyone.

“Who the fuck did you kill now you usesless dog?” Plume hissed, tossing the map into a bag and glaring at him.

“A trespasser.” Julian hissed crossing his arms over his chest.

“Whatever. Rose is leaving for a few months.” He pushed Julian into a chair “We’re getting her things ready.”

“I take it, I'm going with her.” He sighed, “I am pretty sure I’m the last person she wants to see currently.”

“It's up to you. She’s getting her clothes from your room right now.” He mumbled. Upstairs, rose was bending down to grab her shirt, pausing as she noticed torn pieces of paper on the floor. Carefully she looked at them, her heart sinking slightly as she saw a beautiful face she’d only seen in magazines. Her mind began to wander as she put the paper in her pocket. What was he doing with her torn picture? Was it an infatuation? Maybe it was just remnants of an old magazine…

Julian found Rose in his room. He smiled, wiping some stray blood from his cheek. “Well, I took care of the trespasser.”

“Huh? Oh...thanks.” Rose put her jacket on and fixed her hair, unimpressed.

“Did I piss you off again?” Julian frowned, “Rose, this is becoming a pattern and I would like for it not too.”

“No, I'm just busy and sore...sorry.” She sighed, going to the door, the ripped pieces in her pocket.

Julian sighed and began packing himself, meeting Rose out in the garage when he was done. “So we’re going all the way across the country. For supplies. “

“We? You're coming with me?” She put her bags in the back as plume nodded “Yes. and You two are fetching more artillery from our Chicago pride since we can't ship them anymore.”

“Perfect.” He smiled, tossing his bag in along with Rose’s. “Are we going in disguise this time?” His smile widened into a mischievous grin.

“Yep. Once you're in the city rose will be dressed as Mistress thorne and you” Plume tossed lingerie looking close at him “Will be her collared sub Thomas.” Plume laughed “No one questions the mistress.” It was a joke, but he didn't doubt ilya would play the part anyway.

Julian laughed, “ha! Good thing it’s a long drive it will give me plenty of time to get into character.”

“You'll keep your mouth shut.” Rose mumbled and got into the driver's seat.

“As my Mistress commands.” Julian bowed dramatically and got into the car.

Blasting music, rose took off to the highway, opening the window as they began the trip.

“The city seems strangely quiet today.” Julian sighed staring out the window, “we haven’t gone on a long trip together in a very long time.”

“Yeah… almost a year now.” she mumbled and glanced at him “New york last time.”

Julian chuckled, “That’s Right! That mission was an absolute disaster….but it was fun. And you had fun fucking me into oblivion.”

“Mhm. next time i'll gag and peg you with a strap.” She weaved her way through the streets, listening to an old rock song.

He unbuttoned his shirt slightly, his charismatic smirk on full display. “Just hearing you say that makes me hungry and excited.” He traced a gentle line from her cheek down her neck.

She slapped his hand away and huffed “I'm not touching you until we get to chicago.” Her voice growled “Then I'm going to make sure you submit and learn your place.”

Julian held up his hands in full surrender, shutting up. He instead brought his attention to the passing streets.

The ride was a long 10 hours until they finally stopped at an inn. It was pitch black outside as they got a room, Rose spent another hour nursing a blunt on the balcony. Her mind was full of memories of old lovers. Each had ended up leaving her for Hollywood models and performers, saying they were better than her. They had called her an alley cat, a mangy stray. And after finding that picture, rose was sure ilya was fantasizing about being with a performer. Someone prettier and more talented. She finished smoking and dropped her head, looking at old scars on her arms.

Julian wrapped his arms around her and hummed into her neck. “Someone is in the pits of despair” he chuckled, “ I thought I was going to get punished once we arrived.”

“In chicago. You have 15 more hours.” She looked at him “Cant a girl smoke in the night in peace?” She looked at the dark night.

He let her go, “alright I get it. You're upset I’ll leave you be.” He retreated back into the room. Mulling over what he did this time. Each answer leading to the one thing he had been fighting these past 2 weeks.

“It doesn't feel good, does it?” She whispered and looked at the moon “Gods, my papi would kill me for being this petty.”

Julian heavily sighed, “you think I haven’t been suffering? Your suffering makes me suffer! And aside from that, I’m still just suffering.”

Rose went into the bathroom to shower, sitting on the tiles as warm water hit her back. She got lost in thought, a few tears mixing with the water.

Julian flopped back on the bed. Rubbing his eyes in frustration. He wished that bullet had killed him, it would spare a lot of feelings and memories that were now causing issues.

Rose came back to the bed, laying down with her back to ilya, browsing her phone quietly and yawning.

He looked over at her, “I’m sorry.” He muttered.

“For what?” She mumbled, setting down her phone on the nightstand.

“For everything.” He sighed, “I’m sorry I stumbled upon your branch in Spain, I’m sorry you had to save me while I was bleeding out. I’m sorry I have made life so much worse for you. Rose I love you, but there are things that….haunt me. They have come back and it has affected our relationship, and I’m sorry!!! So so sorry!!”

“....Believe it or not… You're the best thing that's happened to me ilya.” She mumbled, looking at the wall “And i know there's shit that both of us deal with…. But i don't regret saving you. Or falling in love.”

Julian shook his head, “what if I regret being saved?”

“NO.” she sat up and glared at him “You shut the fuck up right now ilya. Don't ever say that.”

“...I CAN’T HELP IT ROSE!” He shouted sitting up. “I have been suppressing so much pain!”

“THEN WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LET IT OUT?! IF NOT TO ME THEN TO SOMEONE OR SOMETHING ELSE?!” She got out of bed, her eyes stinging as she went and locked herself in the bathroom.

Julian punched the wall and fell back into the bed. Rubbing his eyes, he tore his eye patch off and rubbed his bad eye. Trying to prevent everything from coming out.

#the arcane game #arcana apprentice #the arcana #the arcane julian #julian devorak #arcana #the arcane mc #the arcana julian #rose sagenea #rose the apprentice #lyra the apprentice #cats and birds #mob au #caracaltalks

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shirtlesssammy · 5 years

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2x01: In My Time of Dying

Then:

Sam and Dean Winchester: Monster hunters

Now:

We pick up right where we left off last season, only this time Netflix got the rights to the proper music. Bad Moon Rising, indeed. Sam, Dean, and John are all unconscious or dead in the now destroyed Impala. The possessed trucker jumps out to double check. Sam’s actually awake (aw, baby Sam Fucking Winchester emerges!) and threatens the demon with the Colt. The demon smokes out leaving Sam to call for his family while the horrified trucker looks on.

Cut to Rescue 911. The Family Winchester is airlifted to a hospital. Dean wakes in the quietest hospital ever. He starts wandering around trying to find somebody only to find the world’s rudest reception station. It dawns on him that the woman can’t see him. He races back to his room, only to find himself with tubes everywhere and monitors beeping. Oh dear.

Sam rushes in and Dean starts talking to him, but just like the receptionist, Sam can’t see or hear Dean. A doctor comes to tell Sam that John is awake. Sam wants to know about Dean though. He tells Sam they won’t know the full extent of Dean’s injuries until he wakes up --if he wakes up. Dr. Doom and Gloom doesn’t know Dean’s love/hate relationship with death. If he’s alive, he often wants to be dead and if he’s dead nothing is stopping him from coming back alive.

Sam visits John and discusses Dean’s status. He’s as determined as Dean to save him. (Go, codependency, go!). John says that they’ll look into alternative medicines and then he asks for the Colt.

That doesn’t sit so well with Sam. But he tells him it’s in the truck of the Impala and Bobby’s on his way to tow it back to Sioux City. John tells Sam to get the Colt and to pick up some things for protection (Oh, how young Sam had NO CLUE what the ingredients were for.) Sam asks if John knows anything about what the demon meant when he said he had plans for him and children like him. John doesn’t know.

Dean was watching the whole exchange through, and he ain’t buying it.

For Skeptical Son Science:

Sam and Bobby meet by the Impala and Bobby, needlessly cruel, admits, “This just ain’t worth a tow.” DEAN’S SOUL IS ALWAYS WORTH REPAIRING! (Natasha: Preach!)

Sam then gives Bobby the list of ingredients and tells Bobby they’re for protection from the demon. Bobby ain’t buying it.

John visits Dean. Ghost Dean starts pleading with John to help. He hasn’t called anyone, hadn’t done a thing but sit there. “I’ve done everything you have ever asked me. Everything. I’ve given everything I’ve ever had. And you’re just gonna sit there and you’re gonna watch me die?”

He hears a noise outside the room and checks it out. A flash of something rushes by and Dean heads to investigate.

He finds a woman choking on the floor. No one responds to her weak calls for help, and no one can hear him yell. (What kind of hospital is this, just letting a lady die on the floor like that?)

Sam comes back and Dean keeps trying to talk to him, with no luck. John notices Sam’s mood. Sam tells John he knows what those ingredients are for --summoning a demon. John’s got a plan (Good lord, Sam is his father’s son.) Sam is GOING OFF on his dad, and I mean, in retrospect, oops (but you kind of deserve this for not telling Sam your plan). Dean gets so frustrated watching the exchange he knocks a glass of water off the table. And then lets the audience know that he TOTALLY watches chick-flicks (I know, I know, Swayze always gets a pass). He starts to glitch out and people rush past John’s room. Sam follows them to Dean’s room where he’s flatlined and they’re trying to bring him back.

Dean sees a reaper hovering over his body and tries grabbing it but is pushed away. It then rushes from the room and Dean gets a pulse again. Whew. He tells Sam that he’s going to get it before it gets him.

Wandering through the hospital, he finds a woman yelling at others. “Can’t you see me?” etc. Her name is Tessa and she wants to know if she is dead. Dean takes her to her room. He tells her that they’re spirits but if they hold on, they don’t have to die.

Meanwhile, Sam is telling John he felt like he sensed Dean and wonders if it’s possible. John says anything it possible.

Dean and Tessa wander the Hospital of Young Adult Nearly Dead Angst.

Actually, Tessa is handling this whole almost dead thing really well. HMMM. “It’s out of my control. It’s just fate.” Them's fightin’ words, Tessa. Dean doesn’t take kindly to “fate”. “That’s crap, you always have a choice.”

Sam’s back in Dean’s room with his handy “Mystical Talking Board”.

Dean feels like he’s at a slumber party, but dives right in to talk with Sam. Remarkably, Dean doesn’t take the opportunity to immediately spell out B-O-O-B-S. He takes control of the pointer to spell the word H-U-N-T.

Through the board, he tells Sam that there’s a reaper after him. Sam knows that if it’s there naturally, they can’t defeat it. “You can’t kill death,” Dean says rather famously. LOL those were the days.

Sam spins into Winchester denial mode because there’s always another way! He heads in to talk to John but that little chicken has flown the coop.

Down in the boiler room (never go into the boiler room, kids!) John unloads a bag of supplies. He takes out a piece of chalk and begins to draw sigils on the floor.

Sam heads back into Dean’s room with John’s journal. Dean thanks Sam for fighting to save him (as opposed to his absent dad). Dean reads over Sam’s shoulder from the section on reapers, mutters “son of a bitch,” and then heads out on his own mission.

Dean finds Tessa back in her hospital room, but this time it’s empty and sterile. He drops some interesting facts about reapers, like that they can alter perception. A reaper can appear in any form, which is why we see Tessa in the form of Neil Gaiman’s Death.

Tessa explains her subterfuge as the only way to get Dean to listen to her (instead of stabby stabby knifey knifey). She’s the spectral presence he’s been seeing all over the hospital, gently reaping souls. “Death is nothing to fear,” she tells him. “You’re living on borrowed time.” Once I finish digging the knife out of my own heart because I just sat around remembering the episode Faith, we cut to John.

John has finished his craft project and slices his hand with a blade while chanting. (I pity the custodial staff who’s going to have to come clean this mess up.) His ritual appears to fail when a custodian does show up and orders him to get out of the boiler room. John levels the Colt at the guy. “How stupid do you think I am?”

Well...stupid enough to lone wolf this demon summoning.

Two other demons flank John. Yellow Eyes mocks John, pointing out that he only has one bullet left. John doesn’t care, though. He’s there to make a deal.

Upstairs, Sam talks to Dean’s body, telling him that he’s hit a dead end in trying to save him. “I’ll keep trying as long as you keep fighting. You can’t leave me alone here with Dad. We’ll kill each other.” Sam begs him to stay.

Dean begs Tessa for an exception to the reaping rule. They’re still in the middle of fighting Yellow Eyes; he can’t leave his family now. Tessa tells him that the world keeps turning no matter who she reaps. The world will go on without Dean in it. (Stares directly at the camera.)

Dean refuses to leave and Tessa drops her final bomb. Dean can’t get back into his body. He’s really almost very much mostly dead.

She gently explains that angry spirits are created by ordinary souls who try to stay behind and eventually go mad. If Dean stays, he’s gonna join their ranks.

John offers Yellow Eyes the Colt and its last bullet if he’ll heal Dean. Yellow Eyes scoffs at John’s offer. He doesn’t think much of Dean or Sam. He then asks John if he knows about the other children. YEAH DUDE. But John definitely hasn’t told Sam or Dean about it. John’s all business. He demands to see that Dean is healed before he’ll hand over the gun. Yellow Eyes is intrigued, but he demands one further concession.

For Vulnerable Dean Science:

Tessa tells Dean that it’s time to go, or time to stay. Whatever his choice, it’s decision time now. Dean turns to her, about to say…………..something. And the lights flicker. Black smoke floods in and possesses Tessa. She looks back at Dean with yellow eyes and smacks her hand on his forehead.

In Dean’s hospital room, he wakes up and gags on his life support tubes. YIKES.

Cut to later: the doctor reviews Dean’s miraculous recovery. “You’ve got some kind of angel watching over you.” (Listen, I know this is supposed to be ironic because har har a demon saved him, but…. DUDE Dean you’ve really got some kind of angel watching over you. Wink wink.)

Dean doesn’t remember a damn thing about when he was near death. He just has a bad feeling about…something.

John checks in with Dean, glad to see that he’s recovered. Sam grills him about taking off but John begs for them to not fight. It’s a mark of how little gentleness they see from their father that John begging quietly for peace makes Sam ask if he’s okay. (#JustSayin)

John sends Sam on an errand to get a cup of coffee. Once Sam’s gone, he tells Dean about something that Dean did when he was young.

When John returned from hunts, messed up and scarred, Dean would comfort him and tell him it was all okay. (I need a minute to cry right in your FACE.) John apologizes to Dean for putting so much responsibility on him at such a young age. Dean is being SEEN. John tells Dean that he’s proud of him. Dean double checks that it’s his father. I’ve drenched my pillow.

John gives Dean one last mission: to watch out for Sammy. He leans forward and whispers into Dean’s ear and when he pulls away, Dean looks horrified.

John leaves Dean’s room and walks up to Yellow Eyes. He sets down the gun. Says, “Okay.”

Sam, walking back with a cup of coffee and finds his dad lying dead on the floor.

______________________________

Quotes: The High Cost of Living:

Screw you, doc, I’m waking up.

Dude, I full on Swayzed that mother.

You’re much prettier than the last reaper I met.

______________________________

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 2x01 #in my time of dying #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #tessa #azazel #bobby singer #supernatural season 2

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lintheotaku · 4 years

Text

Current Watch- Isekai Review

Season: Fall 2019

Anime: Ascendance of a Bookworm Genre: Isekai/Fantasy Plot: “ vid bookworm and college student Motosu Urano ends up dying in an unforeseen accident. This came right after the news that she would finally be able to work as a librarian like she had always dreamed of. When she regained consciousness, she was reborn as Myne, the daughter of a poor soldier. She was in the town of Ehrenfest, which had a harsh class system. But as long as she had books, she didn't really need anything else. However, books were scarce and belonged only to the nobles. But that doesn't stop her, so she makes a decision... "If there aren't any books, I'll just create “ Thoughts: I freaking love this one!!!! It starts off in a sorta slow pace, but it’s so you can gain an understanding of characters, build of the setting and situation of this fantasy-like world. Unlike other isekai fantasy adventuring types, Ascendance of a Bookworm is focused on the protagonist’s thirst for knowledge and to read books. From the first episode we are shown that Myne succeeds in creating her own book, and we are looking into her memories of how it all began. Before I knew it, after each episode I was craving the next episode to see Myne’s dream come true. Each character she meets have importance throughout the story. Heart goes out to Lutz as best boi <3 Overall this series is a refreshing stance of the isekai genre while still being intriguing, fun, and clever. A High recommend for a steady series and can’t wait for Season 2!! Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ [5/5]

Anime: High School Prodigies Have It Easy Even In Another World Genre: Isekai/Fantasy/Fan-service Plot: “Seven high school students are involved in an airplane crash. When they woke up, they found themselves in a parallel world where magic and beastmen exist. Of course, they panicked at their sudden unexpected predicament... or not? Instead, they create a power plant in a world that doesn't have electricity, they did a little extra work and managed to take economic control over a metropolis, they managed to repay their gratitude to some oppressed citizens by upending a corrupt government, and basically do whatever they feel like?!” Overall Thoughts: If you don’t mind turning your brain off to have something to occasionally watch and don’t mind the fan-services moments, this one isn’t too bad. Far as story- What’s probably something than can turn you off is the characters. Most of them don’t have much depth to their characters and their abilities are exaggeratedly over the top. And no, I don’t mean exaggerated for high school kids, but for any humanly possible. A samurai female running along side and guiding a missile sort of over the top- It’s one of those, you either hate it or love it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And fans are probably there for the ecchi moments. (which I didn’t initially realize there was so much of it until looking back) Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♡ [3.5/5]

Anime: Didn't I say to make my abilities average in the next life Genre: Isekai/Fantasy/Comedy/Adventure Plot: “Kurihara Misato was a little more capable than other high school girls, and as a result, she was always alone and couldn't live her life the way she wanted. When she was reincarnated in another world after a tragic accident, she wanted a chance to make normal friends and live a normal life. So she asked God for one thing... "Give me abilities that are average for that world!" But the abilities God gave her were not "average" at all... And now this girl, who's been reborn in a world where magic is real, struggles to find simple, ordinary happiness” Overall Thoughts: This is a really fun one. I really like how Milie’s friends look like they would be your stereotype party members but don’t follow that mold. The comedy is very well received and Milie’s Anime references was a blast to see. I personally about died over her using ‘spirit gun’. The four girls are all sweet and wonderful watch. Another high praised series for the season. Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ [5/5]

Anime: Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun Genre: Isekai/Fantasy/Comedy/Shōnen Plot: “The story follows the life of Iruma Suzuki, a 14-year-old human boy, who is sold to a demon by his parents. The demon is known as Sullivan, who takes Iruma to the Demon World and officially adopts him as his grandson. He then enrolls Iruma in the Babyls School for Demons where Sullivan is the headmaster, and where Iruma quickly befriends the demons Alice Asmodeus and Clara Valac. However, Sullivan tells Iruma to never reveal that he is a human, since he will be eaten if anyone finds out that he is not a demon. Iruma then vows to blend in during his time in the Demon World, although he only stands out due to all the situations and adventures that arise.“ Overall Thoughts: A lighthearted series of fun adventures of Iruma attending a demon school. Although not a new concept (Hells, Rosairo+Vampire, etc) but with it being a shonen type, it’s quite a fun watch with light hearted moments. Personally, I find the lack of depth of the setting and backgrounds to be a bit too vague- but is fine for a casual watch, colorful characters, and comical moments. Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ [4.5/5]

Anime: Kemono Michi: Rise Up Genre: Comedy/Isekai/Fantasy Plot: “Genzo, Japan's number one animal-loving pro-wrestler, gets transported to another world where magical beasts run rampant. In order to save the kingdom, the princess asks him to rid the world of the beasts, but he refuses and wants to save them instead! Genzo opens a pet shop for his new beast friends, but he gets too attached to them and is unable to sell them which leads to constant financial problems for his new shop! Join Genzo and his cute demi-human employees as they find loving homes for the many beasts of the kingdom!” Overall Thoughts: While the wrestling aspect is what truly drew me in, this one can be a bit close to the Furry/Bestiality line... often... It’s a fun nonsensical series that isn’t too high strong on the ‘death the demon lord’ route. I did find this one to be fun despite a couple of running gags feeling a bit stale after the 2nd time. Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ [4/5]

Anime: The Hero Is Overpowered But Overly Cautious Genre: Comedy/Isekai/Fantasy Plot: “In the world of Gaeabrande, Goddess Ristarte is tasked with summoning a hero to save her world. The hero, Seiya Ryuuguuin, is an OVERLY cautious hero who’s obsessed with muscle training and buying armor before setting out to deal with low level creatures. It’s simply one overly cautious mission at-a-time for this invincible hero!” Overall Thoughts: This one... Literally this gif image sums up the entire series- I personally was getting tired of some of the ‘overly cautiousness’ gags, but it soon shifted. Although still cautious, it was more clear (for the audience) to see there was more to this hero. And then I got towards the final 2 episodes... I’ll say this is one show that’s gonna continue to haunt me. Final Thought: It’s worth finishing tbh. Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ [4.5/5]

#current watch #anime fall 2019

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darkredehmption · 5 years

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Not What We Seem

@DamagedBrother and @OfFeatherNFang

Mal:

Caldwell was like any other city as I wasted the day away. Resting for a few hours in the morning, rolling around on a bed that probably needed a fresh set of sheets, I took the afternoon to recharge, finding a clear rooftop and sprawling out to bake. It’d been a while since I’d just lounged in the sun, so maybe I should be thinking of this as some sort of vacation, rather than an obligation to my mahmen.

As day turned to twilight, then to evening, I wandered the city streets, killing time for once instead of monsters. Cafe’s were open, and I had a coffee, something sweet, and then went ‘fuck it’, and ordered some frappa-whappa-whatever, which would’ve been sweet enough to give me diabetes if that was possible for an angel slash vampire. And it was all courtesy of Bert Aframian, the credit card serving as money I’d never touched, and never would.

With every hour that passed I grew more impatient for my audience with the King, my footsteps taking me further from the polite cafes and diners to the gritty alleys and side streets, the pulsing nightclubs with their barely restrained bouncers all too eager to break something. Or someone.

Lines stretched around the corner for several, and I stopped shy of entering one that looked borderline promising: The Iron Mask. It took a minute for my mental voice to be heard over the pounding music that pushed out the doorway, but when it was it reminded me that showing up to an audience with the King of vampires, reeking of sweat, sex and alcohol, was probably a bad idea. No doubt classed somewhere in the zone of ‘disrespectful AF’. I could even feel my mahmen’s frown from here.

Grumbling about propriety, I stalked on, stuffing my hands in my coat pocket and holding out for a better distraction. Ironically, it only took another three blocks for it to appear.

As I rounded a corner into yet another run down, lamp shattered street, the wind pushed into me, and with it the foulest scent I’d encountered for years; not counting the wendigo snack bar I’d had to burn down after killing the thing. Something like rotting meat and baby powder wafted toward me on the breeze, and as my gag reflex got a work out, my eyes zeroed in on the culprit. He was on the corner, leaning against a graffiti laden brick wall. His face was lit by the phone he held, and his hair looked faded, like a blonde with a bad dye job that was finally washing out.

Every story my mahmen had ever told me, about rancid demons of ichor that hunted vampires coalesced, and the vision before me was… anticlimactic. This thing was what had hunted my mother’s kind for centuries? This… thing… with its pale hair and eyes and lazy gait, no doubt peddling drugs to humans… was the threat I hadn’t been allowed to face?

I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief. The noise caught his attention, the phone forgotten as he looked up. I wasn’t sure if he could scent me or not - was that something a Lesser could do? - but I saw the flare of recognition in his eyes as easily as he saw it in mine. Well, give or take a little of my breeding…

The phone was forgotten as he reached into his coat, the piece he pulled out a sleek, dark nin mil. I didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, dropping into a roll as my heart rate kicked into high gear. The first shot went over my head, a thunderclap in the street as I came up and launched myself skyward. The second shot hit the pavement, the third grazed my boot. And then I was invisible as I summoned my wings and threw them wide, using the launch and my feathers to close the twenty meter distance between us in two seconds.

His wild, sweeping arc of the gun as he tried to spot me again was for nothing as I crashed out of the sky to land on him, resuming a visible state as I batted the gun aside and bared my fangs in a snarl, black wings spread wide over him. He stared up, agape, whatever fury he’d been ready to unleash forgotten at the sight of me.

“Get a good look?” I spat, drawing a blade from my boot and bringing it up, then down, right for the heart.

He twisted at the last second, my blade glancing off the bone in his arm, his shoulder, as he tried to reach for the gun. Black blood spurted, and I ducked another shot, my ear ringing as I grabbed the wrist holding the gun and twisted with everything I had. He screamed as the bones shattered, the hand connected to his body only by flesh as it hung at a gut churning angle.

Slamming a palm to his throat, I cut off the scream with a squeeze as I pulled back the blade and drove down again. This time I found the mark.

I wasn’t expecting the light show. Mahmen certainly never warned me about ‘that’. The burst seemed to fry my retinas as I reeled back, the body now just a scorch mark as I tried to blink away the blaze.

“What… the fuck…” I muttered, rubbing at one eye with the hand that didn’t clutch the blade, ready for whatever came next.

Which, as it turned out, was not another Lesser. My phone pinged, an alarm to remind me my meeting was five minutes away. Cursing, I looked around. I’d planned to be there already, to linger outside in the cool air and only enter at the sound of that alarm, but now here I was, in some dead street at the edge of a city and reeking of the black blood that spattered my leather jacket sleeve.

Fucking hell.

Wings still out, I leapt up into the air, landing on a nearby roof that clearly had only seen pigeon activity for a long time. Shucking off the coat, I set it and the single blade I’d bothered to bring against the edge, then looked down at myself. There was nothing else to be done, time not on my side now as I launched into the air, winging myself across town to the Audience House.

Making the door with a minute to spare, I sheathed my wings and raked a hand through my windswept hair, taking a deep breath and wincing at the lingering stench of sweet, rotting meat.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, stepping into the receiving room and offering courteous smile to the male behind the desk, who seemed relieved to see me. He waved me forward, and only then did I notice the huge, hulking male at the next doorway. The one between me and the King.

I was grateful for my years of training, because it was the only thing that kept my face impassive as I stared up into golden yellow eyes, a lip twisted by a scar that stretched right up to his forehead. The scar didn’t bother me though; it was the set of those shoulders, the look on his face that told me one wrong move, and he’d gladly break my neck to protect whoever was behind that door.

Dude was definitely committed to this King.

Stepping forward, I bowed as mahmen had shown me, then stood and extended my arms. The male grunted as he stepped forward, a shiver rolling down my spine as he stood behind me. A spark leapt between us, and I couldn’t help but gasp at the shock, shooting him a sharp glance like it was his fault. Then he was patting me down, thorough with hands that had no doubt killed a thousand Lessers just like the one I’d dealt with on the street. When he was done, his hand closed around my shoulder, all but shoving me through the door, into a room with… King Fucking Kong, apparently.

The male was huge. With a capital H-oly Fuck. Seated on a throne, and with two additional warriors in the room, he still dwarfed them not just with his size, but his presence. He commanded attention, and as the black wraparounds looked in my direction he took a deep breath and leant forward.

“Speak your name.”

The two males at his back stiffened at the sight of me. One had eyes like diamonds, and a tattoo that curled around one eye as he narrowed them at me. The other had hair of impossible colors, a glorious mane that look touchable. My fingers even twitched. But they still paled to the male in the throne.

Before I answered I bowed low, as was proper for a nobody civilian.

“I am Malys, son of the Chosen Elieanora,” I said evenly, rising from the bow. “And I have come to seek a pardon from your majesty for her fleeing the Sanctuary a hundred years past.”

Zsadist:

[Tonight I was on King duty. Instead of heading out into the field, I found myself playing bodyguard to Wrath. Which wasn’t as thrilling as going out and killing lessers, but it was still an important job. We must serve and protect not only the race but our King as well. Guarding Wrath with me was Vishous and my twin. While Cop, Rhage, and Tohr were out in the field. I was hoping that tonight would go smoothly and there wouldn’t be any problems on our hands. It was always nerve wracking having Wrath out though. He was not only the King of our race, but a brother, and a lot of people wanted him dead.

Cracking my neck as I try to remember how many meetings we had tonight. We should be wrapping it up soon. I could feel daylight growing near and we would need to get Wrath home. Digging into my pocket to grab my phone. I glanced at the time written across the screen before I check to see if I had any messages. Without Vishous’s knowledge I gave the shifter my actual number. Then again, maybe V already knew that. Snorting at the thought then pushes the device back into my pocket. He hadn’t texted me so I assumed that we were still on for training later in the week. You could do it Z, just had one more to get through and then you could be at home with a book.

My ears prick as I hear a muffled conversation at the end of the hall. Straightening up as I watch a male turn the corner and head down the hallway towards me. Tilting my head as I take in the site of him. Interesting. I’ve never seen this male around before. Not that I really knew all vampires in this area, but there was something about him that screamed he was not from here. An outsider. What business did he have with the King?

I let out a low grunt as the stranger bows to me then holds out his arms so I could pat him down. Moving to his backside, I blink as I feel some sort of jolt. Was this some kind of power he had? Was he trying to pull a fast one on me? On the King? Biting back a growl as my hands move roughly over the male. Not caring as I grabbed and pushed my hands all over his body in search for weapons. I didn’t trust him one bit. I practically shove him into the room and get a hint of a scent that clouds my senses. Baby powder. The enemy.

My golden eyes go wide as I watch him stumble forward towards the King. Who the fuck did I just let enter this room? Fuck. Quickly I move in and stand close to the male. Vishous eyes me as he tries to read what’s doing. I see his eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up what I discovered. We keep it cool though. Listening to what this fucker had to say but also being ready at a moment’s notice if we had to strike. Slowly I bring my hand to my chest. Keeping it close in case I had to pull a dagger on this fucker. I would not let my King get hurt. Not on my watch. Nope.

I watched as he bowed again, a more pronounced one then the bow I received moments before. When he rises the King orders him to speak. My brows draw in as he speaks the name of a Chosen. A chosen I’ve never heard before. Phury blinks then shifts in his spot. He was the primale after all so all matters involving chosen he dealt with. Well it was a good thing he was present then. She was not just any chosen, but one who left. It made me wonder if Tohr knew about her. Maybe it was a chosen he came across with Darius. Though it sounded like she fled and went into hiding without a trace. I was intrigued by what the mystery man had to say, but still kept my guard up. The stench of the enemy still all around me. As my eyes roamed his body I noticed that he looked a little disheveled. Similar to what I looked like after fighting. The only problem was which side was he fighting on? And even if he was taking down a lesser who the fuck was he to do so?]

Mal:

The King grunted his acknowledgment of my words. I was beginning to suspect that standing on ceremony was not what happened with this guy. He had all the pomp and pageantry of a steel blade, and twice as sharp.

At my back I could feel the tension of the golden eyed warrior, and it took every lick of self control I had, and every lesson my mahmen had ever taught me about manners or propriety, to not turn around and eyeball him like I was ready to throw down right here, right now.

Cause I was. And I would. If it wasn’t for the woman who raised me needing this boon.

“So your mother was a Chosen that fled the sanctuary,” the King intoned, leaning back in that massive chair and tilting his head toward the male with the luscious locks, like he wanted him paying attention. “Why did she leave?”

Clearing my throat, I took a second to check my tone. It was, after all, a reasonable question, even if /I/ didn’t want anyone questioning her.

“Pardon me, my Lord, but it would be rude of me to attempt an explanation of my mother’s motivations at the time, not being her, or sharing that… experience. From what she has deigned to tell her son, it was to do with the desire for freedom and not wanting to… perform.”

Y’know… as in… be the Ehros she’d been trained to be. Sweet fuck please don’t make me say it out loud. Damn it, I could feel the faintest trace of a blush on my cheeks, but c’mon, who wouldn’t get embarrassed talking about whether or not their mother wanted to be a professional sex doll. Motherfuckers…

Instead of letting them get a word in, I continued, hoping the damn blush faded faster than the stupid Lesser stench I kept catching a whiff of.

“I understand that under your reign, things have changed, both for your civilian people, and for the Chosen. It is my hope that, with that in mind, my mother would be free to return to her people without facing persecution.”

Wrath inhaled again, and I had to wonder if he was catching all that stinking baby powder smell. I hid a wince, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“You got balls kid, I’ll give you that,” he said finally. “What if I wasn’t as benevolent as they say, hmm? What if I demanded retribution from your mahmen and her location? What then?”

“Then you have her son as a prisoner to serve whatever sentence you deem necessary,” I say coolly, eyes narrowing, “and I will have to suffice, for I will not ever reveal my mahmen’s location. I’d rather die.”

Every word rang with truth even as I stared him down - for all the good that probably did. They had to call him ‘Blind King’ for a reason. Not to worry though, cause the three other males around us were all kinds of ‘watch your fuckin’ mouth kid’ after I spoke.

“Phury,” Wrath said finally. “What do you want to do about this?”

Zsadist:

[This kid has way too much sass talking to the King like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? He came here on behalf of his mother, a chosen, to pardon her from fleeing. Now I know shit has changed and the King will most likely have no problem with this, but he still should have some respect. And then on top of it he’s gonna come in here reeking like lessers? Nope.

My attention is drawn to my twin when Wrath calls him out. Ah yes, the primale. What would he think of all this? He had to be curious about this Chosen. And I’m sure the other chosens would be excited to meet another, have another sister. I watched as Phury shifts beside the King. He eyes the stranger up before speaking.

“I don’t wish for any punishment to be brought to your Mother. I understand her reasons for fleeing.” He scrubbed a hand through his long locks of hair. “Things are different now and I have a sanctuary of my own for the chosens.” He gave a small private smile as he thought of them all. “If she would like to return, I would be happy to bring her in and introduce her to the others. I know they would be just thrilled to meet another sister.”

What he said was true. Phury cared deeply about the chosens. It’s funny cause when we first learned that he was going to be the primale we were unsure of what that would entail. But he found love, with Cormia. And I was glad that my brother was finally happy. Now only if he could stop trying to introduce me to different chosens every time I fed. Like I would do the same and get mated or some shit. Yeah right.

I snort at the thought then turned my attention to the stinky fucker in the room. I knew Wrath wasn’t dumb. He could smell what we smelled and probably even more so with his heightened senses. Even though I was on guard and ready to strike at a moment’s notice I kept my cool. Wrath might not want to make a scene in the audience house but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t elsewhere. My hand stayed close to my blade regardless. Just cause we didn’t want bloodshed didn’t mean this fucker doesn’t. Chosen mother or not, I’ve learned in my lifetime that you could trust no one. Anyone could turn on you or have other motives.]

Mal:

While the King looked like he could make a meal out of me and still use my rib as a toothpick, the male with the rainbow hair adjusted his stance and looked me over. He still looked like he wanted to put something sharp somewhere I wouldn’t like it, but when he spoke of the Chosen, of my mother having the freedom to return and see them, there was no malice, no aggression. His compassion and care for them was plain in the look on his face, the tone of his voice.

Relief ran through me as I thought of my mahmen, of being able to tell her she could come back to this past she’d fled so long ago.

Aware of each male in the room /wanting/ a reason to hurt me, I very slowly bowed my head, then lowered myself into a bow, my knee on the floor. I couldn’t speak the Old Language - I didn’t know a word of it - but I tried to make sure the sincerity of my gratitude rang through as I spoke.

“My Lords, your kindness knows no bounds.” Okay, it probably knew plenty of bounds, but go with me on this. “I am incredibly grateful for the mercy and compassion you’ve shown my mother. I apologize if I, at any stage, seemed ungrateful. My concern was only for the woman who raised me alone in the human world, and that she might find some solace in returning to the people she knew and loved.”

Lifting my head but not rising from my crouched bow, I looked first at the Primale, and then to the King.

“I thank you for taking the time to see me. For gracing me with an audience.”

And yeah. I guess I meant it. There was truth in everything I said. But now I was done. I could go home, go back to the hunt, and forget about Caldwell unless it housed a poltergeist.

Rising to stand - again, so much more slowly to avoid getting shivved - I made to turn on the spot when the King’s voice rang out.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been doing tonight, son.” My eyes flicked to those black wraparounds, then to the male’s either side of him. Otherwise, I didn’t move. “If you’re not from here, what have you been doing in town?” the Blind King continued softly.

Swallowing, I kept my voice even. My heart rate barely twitched. I’d faced down the worst kinds of monsters, seen horrors I wouldn’t wish on my enemies as nightmares; I could face this King… and his warriors. After all, I’d faced the Lessers they’d spent centuries fighting, and I’d barely broken a sweat to do it.

“I’m sure the activities of a wayward civilian would be of no interest to his Majesty,” I begin, tone courteous. “You honor me just in the asking. If it please the King to know, I have stayed in a simple motel, partaken of the city and its cafe’s, and walked through the Nightclub district.”

Wrath took a deep breath again, then gave a slow, cool smile.

“Well… I hope you enjoyed your stay in the city then. Be sure to pass on my blessings to your mahmen, when you get home.”

That was it? I blinked then bowed my head again.

“Of course, m’Lord. You’ve been most gracious.”

Zsadist:

[Narrowing my golden eyes as I hear the male give some kind of excuse. So that’s how it was going to be huh? I listened to the King as he dismissed him. Wrath didn’t want to cause problems in here, but that didn’t mean he was off the hook. Not by a long shot. He was withholding information from the King. Chosen mother or not that was something you didn’t do. My eyes flicker to the stranger who reeked of the enemy, I hold back a growl as I stare him down. Watching as he exited the room. Quickly I draw my attention to my brothers]

What do you want to do my Lord? [Vishous finally let out a growl as Phury just looked like he was deep in thought. My twin was probably wondering who this mysterious chosen was. I have to admit that I was curious as well. Wrath chuckled and shook his head slowly. A vicious smirk formed on his face before he spoke.

“Get him. Bring him back to the mansion, but keep him in the tunnels. Put him in one of the PT suites and have someone guard it until I can deal with him.” Nodding before I turn to head out. Pausing in my tracks as I hear Wrath again. “And Z..?” Turning to look back]

My Lord? [His jaw clenches. “Knock him out if you have to but don’t kill him. Not until I get to the bottom of this.” Vishous chimes in. “Contact Butch and have him bring the SUV when you get him.” Nodding at my brother before I exit the room. I take a deep inhale, smelling the trail the stranger left. My fangs elongate and I quickly move through the building. Once outside I take another whiff before bolting off in run.]

#SLS

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thefloatingstone · 5 years

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In 2012 I did not think I’d be able to make this list as I was convinced anime was on a permanent decline towards nothing but trash, but I am so happy that has changed! And so I give you a quick list of;

Favourite Anime made in the last 4 years!

Mob Psycho 100 (2016)

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A no brainer, really. With a 2nd Season having JUST premiered earlier this week, MP100 is easily one of not only best LOOKING animes in a very very long time, but also one with an extremely strong empathetic message that’s completely opposite to most shounen anime. The theme of “having outrageous powers doesn’t make you any more or less special and important than any other human being” and how all the villains in the show are people, either super powered or not, who believe themselves “more important” than others is at the heart of its story. And our protagonist who is a person with horrifically strong powers, but who is trying to develop as a human being, and finds himself to be a rather emotionally brittle person who relies very heavily on others for emotional support. As well as focusing on the people willing to grant him that. It’s got some strong influential roots in the Earthbound and Mother 3 games and despite never saying anything along those lines, I can bet you anything the original Mangaka, ONE, drew heavy inspiration from their tone and presentation, as well as emotional core despite the oftentimes wacky setting.

The anime should also not be overlooked for its incredible Sakuga sequences, as well as using mixed media in its animation from pencil drawings, to paint of glass, to charcoal to sand, cementing it as easily one of the most visually interesting and ambitious shows in the last decade or so

Made in Abyss (2017)

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An anime that understands concepts of Scope and Scale and manages to bring what is normally reserved for feature films to an episodic storyline. Made in Abyss’ entire theme and story is that of exploration of the unknown and everything in this anime’s power is honed to bring across that feeling. Its art direction headed by Osamu Masuyama whose previous work include working on the background art for both Spirited Away and Howl’s Moving Castle, is painstakingly rendered to bring as much gravitas to the setting as possible, aided by the soundtrack written by Kevin Penkin which is just as much atmospheric as it is musical in nature. Every ounce of talent is focused on making Made in Abyss’ world, culture and characters feel solid and real. And unlike other anime with cutesy art styles but dark subject matter, Made in Abyss’ darker tone is established right in the first episode and gradually builds to its first season’s climax, rather than blindside its audience out of nowhere.

I sincerely cannot sing this show’s praises enough.

It also doesn’t hurt that the animation itself is fluid and lively.

Re:Creators (2017)

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When I gave this to an animator friend of mine, one who is NOT as big a weeb as I am, he referred to it as “if Ready Player One actually knew what it was doing.” Re:Creators is one of a trend of some anime where the narrative is extremely meta in nature, but rather than use this as a form of parody, Re:Creators instead focuses itself on using its meta storytelling to shine a light on Japanese popular media as a whole, both from the side of the creators who MAKE such things, as well as the side of the fans and not only their response to media, but their interpretation and addition to popular media. And unlike the more critical approach several horror anime have taken in the past, Re:Creators also shows the positive effect stories in the form of anime, video games, manga etc both on those who read it as well as those who create it. And show how fan creations and their responses and reaction to media are just as important and enriching to works like this as the very people who create them.

It’s also one of the first shows from any country that correctly portrays what online fan culture is like. Both good AND bad.

Erased (2016)

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HOO BOY. The Big Guns. Most mainstream anime set in a modern setting inevitably seem to involve high school or at least characters who are high school aged. Erased, however, deals with a protagonist who is 28 years old. Due to time travel shenanigans, he is transported back to 1989 when he was 11 years old growing up in Hokaido. So already, this anime is complete skewing the generic setting for stories of its type, further hammered in by the fact that the show has no romantic subplot in it. There might be a smidge of something like “preteen romantic feelings” among the children but as far as “female hero the protag is going to fall in love with at the end” goes? Yeah there’s none of that.

Erased is an extremely dark anime, but not in the way Made in Abyss is dark. Whereas Abyss’ dark tone comes from things like getting eaten by monsters and body horror caused by the Abyss’ curse, the dark theme of Erased on the other hand is much more horrifying as it comes from “reality”. And it’s because of this I WILL have to warn people about its plot points because it WILL and DOES get uncomfortable.

The plot of Erased is our 28 year old protagonist gets hurled back in time to when he was 11 years old in Hokaido, as I said. In the winter of 1989 there were a string of child abductions and murders, and it’s up to our main character, again in his 11 year old body, to solve these crimes to prevent a tragedy in modern day. Not only does the show deal with the very uncomfortable topic of child abduction and murder, but a MASSIVE part of the plot revolves around the would be murder victim, Hinazaki Kayo, who is living with her physically abusive mother. And unlike shows like “Magical Girl SITE”, the abuse is not shown as “suffer porn” and blown up to be so over the top in how bad it is, ut is instead extremely grounded and feels waaaay to real to the point of being very upsetting. However, the abuse is not there to make the audience sad. The abuse is in the plot to further press upon the audience the borderline helpless state our main character is in. As a child, he has to rely on his experience and ability to think like an adult to try and prevent the serial murders, as WELL as try and get Hanazaki out of her abusive situation. It also serves as a learning experience for our main character, and him figuring out how he hasn’t changed at all since he really was a child, and how his own stagnation in life itself needs to change and be redirected. The show is bursting with tension and every episode exists to turn the stakes up just a little bit higher.

I’ve heard some people are extreme disappointed by the show’s ending which I will not spoil, but personally going into it completely blind, I didn’t find any of it to be a let down and its very quickly become one of my favourite anime of all time.

The Ancient Magus Bride (2017)

(I actually don’t like the intro to Ancient Magus Bride so it only gets a link since I can only embed 5 videos)

https://youtu.be/KuZbmLLv1vM

Based on a manga by Kore Yamazaki, who has stated that her reason for writing the story was out of frustration that in “Beauty and the Beast” type stories, the beast always turns back into a human at the end. However this anime is far more than just a monsterfucker’s romance novel (although it... DOES follow a LOT of those tropes but hear me out.)

Set in the English countryside (although our female MC, Rise, is herself Japanese) the show makes heavy use of english folklore. Faeries are a constant presence throughout the show, and these are not the “nice” kind of faeries you’d see in Disney. Despite theyr good nature and honest want to help, these are the kinds of faeries that will kidnap you to their realm if you so much as let your guard down. We also have excellent portrayals of Titania, the queen of the faeries, and her heated relationship with her husband Oberon. Several other creatures from folklore make an appearance too, as well as old traditions such as faerie rings, seeing stones and the magical properties of herbs and flowers.

But beyond all of that, and even beyond the romance tropes or monster protector who is also a threat and powerful lead female who also needs protecting, the core theme of the show is on life. Or more specifically, death. Rise is a girl who is suicidal. And despite her not making any kind of suicide attempt in the show, this is a fact. The majority of the show is focused on Rise learning to “be alive” again, as well as process what life is, as well as what death is in its many forms. The show is a slow build of Rise reclaiming her will to live, not because of a romantic partner, but for herself. Reclaiming her own importance as a person removed from who she could be useful towards, and a slow coming to terms with a truly terrible event in her past and letting go of a traumatic past.

The show has some pacing issues here and there, but I still qualify it as one of the better modern anime shows to have come out in years, and can only praise its life-affirming message it’s trying to tell.

Osomatsu-San (2015)

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I am.... not entirely sure how to explain Osomatsu-San.

Based on a manga published in the 1960s by Doraemon Creator Fujio Fujiko about 6 identical sextuplet brothers and their friends... the current and newest anime adaptation has borderline nothing to do with its original incarnation which was more your typical Showa era “hi-jinx” type gag manga. I think the very first episode of Osomatsu-San (which is not available for official purchase last I checked due to copyright issues) sets up the entire show perfectly, as the 6 boys and their friends learn they have a new anime adaptation coming up and realise that nobody in the modern age will want or even understand Showa era manga. So, instead, in an effort to be like “a real anime” they go about parodying literally every popular trope and show that’s out at the time. From yaoi-incest baiting to Jpop boy band to Attack on Titan to Sailor Moon, they keep cranking up the “modern anime” aesthetic until it literally explodes and collapses in on itself. And after realising they don’t have what it takes to compete in a modern anime word, the characters resign themselves to being losers who will never achieve anything in life.... and that’s where the show starts.

I can only refer to the show as “Millennial humour: the anime.”. 90% of it is just comedy with our 6 main characters who are, at their core, pretty terrible people. However, their issues and struggles of trying to be adults make them some of the most relateable anime characters out there. The show bounces from parodying popular culture both in anime as well as in movies to outlining the problems of trying to be a late 20-something year old in modern society to actual hard hitting drama that actually makes you angry because how DARE this stupid show actually make you FEEL things???

It’s borderline impossible to try and explain this show because, just like its 6 protagonists, it doesn’t seem to have any direction in its life. Which is exactly the point.

#anime #Long post #image heavy #video #recc #modern anime

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ducktracy · 3 years

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189. my little buckaroo (1938)

release date: january 29th, 1938

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: mel blanc (the terror), tedd pierce (pig, narrator)

erroneously titled my little buckeroo upon the short’s blue ribbon re-release, this cartoon is the third last cartoon directed by friz freleng in his first stint at WB. he headed off to MGM in 1937 to reconnect with former colleagues hugh harman and rudolf ising, only to return to WB back in 1939.

here, the notorious terror has been tormenting the town of boiled beef, texas. it’s up to a shrill-voiced, wimpy, andy devine caricatured pig and his trusty steed to put a stop to the evildoers doings.

the cartoon begins with a montage: a monotone droll “calling all sheriffs, calling all sheriffs--be on the lookout for the terror. that is all” narrates the action as we spot said terror riding into town on his horse and mercilessly robbing a bank, shooting guns wildly as he exits. overlaid footage of the terror riding his trusty steed and leering into the camera attempt to elevate the theatrics of the sequence. the montage is short and lacks substance--while it does a fine job of exposing the plot, it’s not nearly as masterful nor careful than the montages present in frank tashlin’s cartoons.

(my little buckaroo, 1938, on the left, and gold diggers of ‘49, 1935, on the right.)

fade out and in to the town of boiled beef, texas, 1872. a keen eye will notice that the pan of the village, from trucking into the calendar hanging in a covered wagon to sweeping over the town itself, is directly ripped from tex avery’s gold diggers of ‘49 back in 1935, merely repainted and lacking the snarky commentary brought on by tex’s subtitles (”the time”, “the place”, etc.)

according to the narrator, the town has been terrorized by “a notorious desperado known as ‘the terror’”. focus on a wanted poster of said terror, not without its own witty commentary:

a crossfade and pan out reveal the terror himself perched against a cactus brandishing the wanted poster. mel blanc (of course) voices the terror in a thick, stereotypical accent: “that’s me--the great jose cuervo santa barbara la cucaracha smith.” he hardly breaks eye contact as he rolls himself a cigarette. “i put anybody on the spot for seven-fifty and a quarter a day.” he chuckles, then adds after a pause, “...mother in law, two-fifty.” the animation is hilariously nonchalant, full of character while almost feeling too natural at the same time.

once more, fade out and back in to the 4th national bank, protected by the keen eye of a guard dog... who’s fast asleep on the rickety wooden porch, a sash peddling him as the “burglar alarm” wrapped around his stomach. with the suddenness of a rattlesnake (narrator’s description, not mine), the terror gallops into town, firing his pistols and screeching to a halt in front of the gate. the guard dog awakens, all too happy to see some company. as the terror raids the bank of its good, the dog excitedly wags its tail, to which the burglar alarm (a cowbell) rings. definitely a clever bait-and-switch.

the terror rushes out of the bank with his goods, before heading back in again. he slides in to collect a spare coin sitting in the payphone, eyeballing it eagerly before darting off again on his horse. the inside of the bank is a refreshing change of scenery, if only for a bit--the layouts seldom change of the terror going to and fro.

finally, the citizens of boiled beef texas poke their heads out of the buildings and opt to take action, charging together to get their horses. suddenly, they screech to a halt--the horses glare on as they lounge inside their pen, all touting picket signs (”we’re on a sit down strike”, “we balk--you walk”, “we’re sitting because we can’t stand for it!”, “no feed--no steed!”, etc). stalling’s sardonic score of “the old gray mare” is a nice touch.

according to the narrator, the terror has now fled the border and seeks refuge in his hideout. his hideout is merely a gambling ring--the terror himself loads up one of the slot machines with his good. however, he halts. a close-up painting reveals a slug coin (a counterfeit coin), much to the outrage of the terror, who rants and raves, throwing his hat on the ground in defeat. yet another fade-out-- the pacing of the cartoon feels rather disjointed with all of the fade ins and outs.

friz’s artistic sensibilities start to eke their way out as we cut to nighttime, a lone rider silhouetted against the dark night sky and the moon. the terror pops out in front of the rider, snarling “STICK ‘EM UP!” a gorgeous head-on shot of the terror--the lit cigarette is a small but lovely detail, especially juxtaposed against the deep blue sky. the rider screeches to a halt, and all of his horses stack on top of each other, one by one, balancing on top of the rider’s wagon.

an iris wipe showcase the sheriff and his posse “close on the marauder’s trail”, a bunch of spherically designed cowboys riding on their horses (has the strike ended already?). nevertheless, the terror and his horse share snide grins as they take off into the night. a refreshing change of pace as the terror and his horse slide across the border line, a baseball umpire popping out of nowhere to declare “SAAAAFE!” with that, the terror sticks is tongue out to the sheriff’s posse, orlando martin trombone gobble sound effect and all.

while the cartoon has been largely unremarkable thus far, the introduction of a new character, a silhouette riding his horse against the sunrise, provides some much needed lightheartedness. tedd pierce switches from narrator to character as the silhouette screeches sings an obnoxious rendition of the title song.

a close-up reveals a pig caricature of andy devine, ‘30s western star often satirized time and time again for his shrill vocals. the blank expression on the pig’s face juxtaposed with the grimaces of disgust on his horse as the pig wails to his heart’s content is nothing short of priceless. the vocals are so shrill and obnoxious that it’s impossible NOT to laugh. one can only imagine what an uproar this would have brought to the movie theater in 1938, when devine was a much more well known figure.

thankfully for the audience’s ears, the pig’s shrill singing is interrupted by the telltale sound of gunfire--the terror is at it again. he darts right past the pig on his horse, cueing a hilarious gear-up run from the pig and his horse as they chase hot on his trail. each time the pig fires his gun, he’s sent flying backwards on his horse, stars and other grawlixes taking his place. even though the ricochet gag is a tired gag, the insertion of the grawlixes add a nice touch of two-dimensional design and cartooniness to the equation.

after having his hat shot off a few times, the terror retaliates. in another gag similar to one in tex’s gold diggers of ‘49, the terror’s gun is revealed to have a built-in slot machine, reflecting his love of gambling. the slots spin: two peaches, two shots. he eventually hits the jackpot, firing a (n admittedly underwhelming) barrage of bullets towards his foe. he repeats the “hat getting shot off” gag with the pig, who replaces his hat with a top hat, a boater hat, etc.

conveniently for the terror, he stumbles upon an escalator built into a nearby canyon, complete with WATCH YOUR STEP signs. he and his horse board the escalator no problem, followed by the pig and his own. a funny gag, but the lack of urgency does little to punch it up to its full potential. the chase sequence feels like a game of monkey see, monkey do: the terror rounds some sharp curves with his horse, momentarily defying gravity as he turns the bend on the canyon. the pig rider does the exact same thing with his own horse, the speed of both anticlimactic and slow.

nevertheless, a bright spot--the terror and his horse slide down a steep slope, followed by the pig and his horse. ken harris does some hilarious animation of the horse as he grins into the camera, trademark ken harris excitement marks decorating the scene as he jumps up and down, whinnying and clapping his hooves together in jubilation. he gallops up the slope to a jaunty, broken score of “the merry go round broke down”, turning around and sliding back down on his butt, hooves in the air in excitement.

the fun doesn’t stop there. the andy devine pig scolds the horse for wasting his time, prompting the horse to give a full on tantrum. “AWWW, GEE! I NEVER HAVE ANY FUN! OTHER HORSES HAVE FUN! I NEVER GET TO DO ANYTHING!”

finally, the pig gives in. “aww, ALL RIGHT!” with that, the horse runs off to repeat his exercises offscreen--and we never see him again.

in yet another reprisal of gold diggers of ‘49, the pig, horse-less, captures the terror by shooting a makeshift gun/fishing pole. a lasso shoots from the barrel of the rifle, tying around the abdomen of the confused marauder. the pig, with a few struggles, finally reels in his prey, who flops around on the ground like a fish. (friz would later perfect the absurdity of the fish flopping gag in his 1944 entry duck soup to nuts, with daffy in place of the terror.)

a happy resolution: the pig proudly whistles the eponymous song as he leans back in his chair in his office. pan along the wall to find a row of mounted animals: a boar, a moose, some fish... and the terror. the camera pans out to reveal the terror behind bars, his head wedged in a mount as he struggles to break free. fade out.

while not one of friz’s best efforts, this cartoon still has bits and pieces to appreciate. the pig’s introduction and the horse’s ecstasy at riding down the slope are the definite highlights to the cartoon. tedd pierce does a fine job as both the pig and the narrator, especially the former. ken harris’ animation is lovely, too.

however, this isn’t as indicative of friz’s talents as other shorts. while trying to feel like a tex avery cartoon (down to recycling gags and layouts), the short instead comes off as a disjointed segment of gags. the pacing is staggered and slow--the chase sequence during the second half of the cartoon lags and lacks any real sense of urgency. while there are bright spots, this feels more like a quota filler than anything. friz is a wonderfully talented director and criminally underrated in my opinion, but this isn’t a knockout from him.

so, with that said, i would skip this cartoon. the highlights i’ve already posted--there’s not really much else of interest. however, with that said, it wouldn’t be a total waste of time to watch it, either.

link!

#lt #looney tunes #my little buckaroo #freleng #reviews #long post #I DIDN'T FORGET ABOUT THESE I SWEAR #i'm gonna make a point to get better about doing them

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