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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Starting Over Chapter 2 ~Sassenach~

"Weel, weel if it isn't my favourite sportsman, James Fraser."

Christ! What now?

He groaned inwardly and turned to find a petite blonde walking towards him. Jamie had just escaped a group of old family acquaintances, evaded some uncomfortable questions about his disappearance, and the last thing he needed now was some more awkward conversation with a person he vaguely recognised. Prior to that, he'd briefly spoken to his parents, Brian and Ellen and his brothers, William and Robert. Like Jenny, they hadn't mentioned anything about his long absence. Instead, they'd welcomed him with open arms as if he'd never ignored their calls during the past few weeks. Grateful for the breathing space and respite, he knew eventually he would have to talk.

The blonde girl waited for him to say something as she sipped her white wine. With so many things occupying his thoughts, he could only summon an absentminded nod in her direction.

She flipped her long hair back with a flick of a hand and laughed coquettishly. "Ye don't remember me, do ye?"

"Eh ...ye look sorta familiar," he replied without matching her smile, his gaze briefly drifting somewhere else. "Ye're at my nephew's party, so I guess ye're a friend of Jenny."

Her cool floundered for a split second, but she quickly recovered. "Our parents are friends, and we went to the same school together. Laoghaire ...Laoghaire MacKenzie. Our families sometimes attend the same parties. I'm here with my nephew."

"Ah, right," he said flatly. "That explains why."

There was an uncomfortable silence, but he made no effort to ease the strain. He was thinking about the girl with the crazy, big hair. And the mindblowing kiss.

Undeterred, Laoghaire stayed put. She looked like she was waiting for him to make some sort of move. Shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans, he dragged in an impatient breath. Here at Broch Mordha, the village was somewhat removed from the rest of the world. What happened outside its bubble only mattered when it indirectly affected its inhabitants. Looking at her expression, his image as a ladies' man had penetrated that bubble. It's true, he'd had a few casual affairs in the past, but nothing long term. He'd appreciated them for what it was, treated whoever he was with well and was always forthright about not wanting anything serious. His focus had always been on rugby and everything that entailed the sport.

Unfortunately, the media had made him out to be an unrepentant philanderer, thanks to the reputation of his uncle Dougal MacKenzie, a retired rugby union great and a former mentor when he'd first started out. Like Uncle, like nephew, so they'd whispered behind his back. Dougal had been a notorious womaniser back in his days, and his antics were often featured in the sports column. How many wives had he had? Jamie had lost count. So much for promoting a public persona that had nothing to do with his passion for rugby! Since when did hard work, glory and distinction in sports become synonymous with the shallow world of celebrities? In Jamie's case, ever since the camera had panned a close-up of his face during a televised game and the social media had erupted into a frenzy. Suddenly, Jamie's looks and his relation to his uncle had become as important as his rugby skills when it came to attracting the lucrative endorsements and sponsorship deals that made him wealthy. But at what cost? A reputation that refused to shift. Maybe there was a certain amount of truth to what was being said about him. After all, his uncle's womanising ways had soured the idea of him committing to a relationship.

"So, ye're back," the blonde girl continued, seemingly unfazed by his lack of interest. "Maybe we can meet up for coffee or maybe..." Face turning red, she squared her shoulders. "...ye'll probably need help refamiliarising yersel' with the village and surrounding area."

"Why? Has Broch Mordha changed much?" He knew he was behaving like a complete prick. Over a year ago, his charm would have turned on involuntary around people, especially with pretty girls like the one in front of him. Good old Jamie, the golden boy of British sports, always up for a picture or two or lay with some female celebrity or fan. Everyone had wanted a piece of him until he'd announced his retirement. Then his phone had stopped ringing. But his agent had wanted to milk whatever was left of his fame by suggesting to go on the popular British television dance contest for celebrities, Strictly Come Dancing . What the fuck did that have to do with rugby? Nowadays the only newsworthy thing about his name was his love life or some rehashed stories of his past. But here's a girl showing genuine interest so why couldn't he muster an ounce of enthusiasm? "Look, I'm so sorry. I haven't seen my family for a long while and ..."

"Ach, nae bother. Think nothing more about it," she interrupted with a wave of her hand. "But if ye change yer mind, call me." She rummaged through her handbag and extracted a card, handing it to him. "I've a boutique shop in the square. Sew in Style. I usually take a break between one and two in the afternoon."

Jamie forced a smile, shoving the card in his pocket without looking at it. "Aye, if I ever need a perfect wee black dress, I'll let ye know."

She laughed out loud as if he just uttered the joke of the decade instead of a sarcastic comment. "And, by the way, I'm home tonight so, if ye fancy a glass of wine or two after yer nephew's party...my private number is at the back of the card."

His forced laughter was toneless. "A wine."

"Jamie! A moment please." A voice behind him called out. Joe? Ach, thank fuck!

Jamie knew instantly his African-American friend was swooping in to save him from Laoghaire, and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. They weren't close, but Joe was more than a professional acquaintance and team doctor. In and outside his training, it was their talks that had kept him grounded throughout his career. And it was he who had kept in touch with his family during his therapy. When the title Rookie of the Year had threatened to inflate his head, Joe had reminded him not to get too cocksure as rugby career tended to be very short. Quickly making an apologetic shrug at Laoghaire, Jamie turned to face Joe, this time a sincere smile, if not relieved, plastered on his face. "How are ye, mate? Good to see ye."

Realising she was being dismissed, Laoghaire's expression went flat; nevertheless, she smiled, and with a small nod, and a muttered, "see ye around," she turned and left. Part of him felt awful for being rude, but the other half felt good to not play the charming ladies' man as portrayed by the newspaper.

Joe let out a whistle. "Whoa! Who are you and what did you do to James Fraser?"

"He's still here somewhere." Jamie clapped him on the back as they made their way to the table where his brothers and brother-in-law were sat. The guests were already starting to leave, and his parents have retired to the house.

"Jenny said you might come. So I stopped by," Joe said, grabbing his drink from the table.

Ian, Jenny's husband, stood up and offered Jamie a beer, but he shook his head and zeroed in on the whisky instead. "I sent Joe to get ye. Ye looked like ye were suffering from a bout of gout talking to Laoghaire," he chuckled.

Jamie smiled pensively, pouring himself a healthy measure in the tumbler, and taking a seat between Rabbie and Willie. Despite his moodiness, he was glad to be around his brothers. Willie, the oldest of the Fraser siblings at age thirty-four, had his own construction company, W.Fraser while the youngest, Robert, better known as Rabbie, age twenty-three was studying Biochemistry at the University of Edinburgh. But Rabbie's passion was more into the woodwork, and in his spare time, he helped Willie create masterpieces out of wood or restored antiques. And so that left the Fraser Distillery to Jamie. Although unspoken, Jamie knew he was expected to take over the family business now that his rugby career was over. "Just a lot to take in at the moment. I didn't realise there would be plenty of guests."

The men nodded sympathetically as they supped their drinks.

"Here, ye wanted this," Rabbie said, breaking the silence and sliding a business card on the table "Got it from Jenny. Ye planning a party or something? Mind, it's a children's party company."

Sassenach! Jamie grabbed the colourful card, read it and flipped it twice between his fingers. Giggle Beans Children's Party Planner. "Geillis Duncan ...the name doesnae sound English to me," he said thoughtfully.

Joe took a swig of his beer and frowned. "Geillis Duncan? I know her. She's a good mate of mine. The party planning is a new business she just started."

"Aye? Brown-haired lass?"

"No. Geillis is ginger. Like you."

"Weel, I heard Jenny calling the entertainer Geillis. Maybe she dyed her hair?" Ian suggested. "I never saw her face. I thought it was bonkers she had that dog mask on the whole time in this heat. I guess she didnae want to disappoint the bairns."

"I can call her if you wish. Like what I said, she's a close friend," Joe offered, taking out his phone. "Is it for a party?"

"Ahh, no. I ..." Jamie didn't know what to say, so he took out his phone instead. "No. I'll call." Reading from the card, he tapped the number on his phone screen and glared at everyone in warning to shush. No answer. Just an answering machine. After a while, he placed his phone back on the table. "What kind of business that's just starting out takes a week off?"

"Ah! It's to do with the wedding," Joe explained. "Our friend is getting married this weekend. I'm the man of honour and Geillis is the bride's maid."

Everyone laughed, and Rabbie's eyebrow shot up. "Man of honour. Never heard of that before."

Jamie ignored his brother. "Mmm, doesn't she have the staff to answer phone calls? It would make perfect business sense if she wanted to succeed."

"Not yet, but she has a few close friends helping her out for now," Joe shrugged. "I have no idea which friends though. Want me to call Geillis' on her private number?"

Jamie shook his head. "No, it can wait."

"If it's not about children's party, what is it ye calling for?" Ian asked.

"Wait a minute," Willie interrupted as if something just dawned on him. "Has this something to do with wee Jamie telling me that ye snogged the dog? His words. Not mine."

"Fuck, he said that?" Jamie choked.

"Aye, my wee lad told me something along those lines," Ian piped in, suddenly perking up. "I thought he's making stories up."

"Ye snogged the children's entertainer? The one in Paw Patrol costume?" Rabbie asked. "How'd ye manage that?"

"Alright, Jamie. I'm all dog's ears. What happened?" Joe dead-panned.

Everyone at the table burst out laughing.

"Fuck off!" Jamie split a frustrated look between his friend, brothers and his brother-in-law over the rim of his whisky. His younger brother, Robert, looked like he had tons of follow-up questions which Jamie could really do without.

"He definitely snogged the dog," Rabbie confirmed with a smirk and a wink.

"Jesus, Jamie. Ye come out from yer cave for the first time in a long time, and ye snogged wee Jamie's party entertainer? Ye definitely need yer head looking at," Willie quipped, shifting on his seat. "What the hell happened?"

Although Jamie promised his mother to cut down on his alcohol consumption, suddenly, he wanted to straddle his hangover with a fresher one in an attempt to forget the kiss with the fiery English lass and to veer the conversation to something else. Feeling cornered and left with no choice, he complied and told them the whole story.

When Jamie was done, everyone shook their head like he'd just been crowned idiot of the year. "Ye actually bribed her with 30 quid?" Rabbie asked, slapping his forehead in disbelief. "Man, she must be a student like me, forever hard-up for dough. She must think ye're a self-entitled prick for that. Does she even know who ye are?"

"Aye, she does. She was actually nice. She's the first person since I retired from sports to mention the subject of rugby."

Actually, Jamie had liked her even before she had taken off the mask. She'd had this mixture of vulnerability and tenacity that had grabbed his attention the moment she'd started speaking. He could have talked to her all day and not been bored. And then she'd taken off the mask, and he'd known there, and then he was flummoxed.

He remembered her big amber eyes flecked with grey flashing in anger and thought of how her lips had felt moving with his. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.

"So, tell me, how did she grab the hundred-pound note? With her furry paws?"

Willie threw a beer bottle cap at the younger Fraser. "Leave it to Rabbie to ask the mechanics of every minute detail. Jamie had a snogging session with a dog, so let's just appreciate it for what it is."

Jamie took no notice of the jest. "It wasn't even a proper snog. It was more like take-that, ye-prick kinda snog."

"Oh, man. This is bad. Look at ye. Ye really have it bad, Jamie lad. Ye're paying for yer past mistakes. Aye, that's it! That's karma. That's what happens when ye leave a trail of broken hearts in yer wake. A taste of yer own medicine." Willie shook his head at his brother in mock sympathy.

"What do ye plan to do then if ye manage to get hold of her? Ask her out? Do ye even want to have a girlfriend? " Ian asked, seriously this time.

So what's the plan? If for no other reason, he wanted to track the English lass down just to correct her misconception of him. And if he was downright honest with himself, he craved to kiss her again—a lot. "I have nae idea. Truly, nae idea. But one thing for sure, she and I aren't done," he muttered before downing the rest of his whisky.

..........

I can't do this. I have to get out of here.

The four walls of the room felt like they're closing in on her. Claire tried to regulate her breathing as panic slashed mercilessly at her guts. The bodice of her dress dug into her ribs, and the choker pearl necklace felt like a noose binding her. She started to hyperventilate, and she reached up and ripped off the pearl-encrusted lace veil. Bending at the waist, she placed her hands on her knees and gulped in air.

In fifteen minutes, she was getting married to Frank. She tried to picture him in his tuxedo, his chocolate brown hair neatly brushed back, flashing his perfect smile at their waiting guests, most of them his associates and friends. Earlier while she was getting dressed, a box of white orchids from her fiance arrived with a handwritten note. It read: I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Beautiful. So why did those mere words sent a shiver down her spine? Everything was perfect. Frank was perfect. So what was wrong?

She thought of the people in her life. There were not many of them. Sure, there were plenty of acquaintances and work colleagues at the hospital, and she was well-liked. But those she held dear and was closest to, she could count on the fingers of one hand. Orphaned at the age of five, she was raised by her only living relative, her father's brother, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, also known as uncle Lamb. Having spent her childhood travelling the world with her guardian while working on archaeological sites, their nomadic lifestyle didn't allow much room for close friendships and ties. At least until she started her medical studies when her uncle finally settled down to teach history at the University of Edinburgh. Although a loner, she had bonded with Geillis Duncan and Joe Abernathy one night while watching a televised rugby game at the local pub. Scotland had just won. After hugging as strangers in celebration and debating about the man of the match over pints of Guinness, they became steadfast friends ever since.

And then Frank came along. He was a specialist surgeon at the time when they first met. He was her boss and her mentor when she started her internship. Their shared love for the intricacies of medical and surgical art of healing brought them closer together, first as friends and eventually as lovers. He was a patient teacher, and she was an eager student, lapping up his knowledge and experience. But that's where their common interest ended. Outside work, they had different interests and sets of friends. Claire loved sports, hanging out in a pub, reading books and night-ins watching movies. She was laidback whereas Frank loved attending formal charity events and socialising with the upper crust professionals of Edinburgh. More often than not, their differences made her feel she had to make a choice between him and her friends.

Claire closed her eyes and tried to calm her rioting nerves. Over the past year, almost every instant she attempted to meet up with Joe and Geillis, Frank gave her a difficult time. Her fiance pointed out how limited time they spent together with their hectic work schedules and her little get-togethers with her friends were causing a division in their relationship. Although Claire considered herself independent, gutsy and opinionated, her resolve turned into mush whenever Frank turned on his charm and wholehearted devotion in getting his point across. And so she'd started making excuses. She hated lying to her friends, but Frank soothed her guilt by being more attentive and generous with his gifts.

He doesn't like your friends. He wants to change you.

The voice in her head got louder, and her breathing became more erratic.

Run now before it's too late.

Lightheadedness threatened, and she staggered to her feet, swaying a little. She needed air so badly. Maybe the wedding pressure was finally getting to her. With her demanding job and long hours at work, she was bone-tired from fretting about every final detail of their wedding. Frank was a perfectionist, and he disliked disorganisation and lack of care. Every aspect of their nuptials needed to be perfect. And with almost four hundred guests, including the local press and his high-society associates, it was an event too important to muck up. It was her job to make sure everything was flawless.

What matters more, Beauchamp? Pleasing a bunch of hoity-toity or your friends? Is this really the world you want to live in?

She knew Frank didn't approve of her friends. "They're a bit rough around the edges, darling. I hope they will not embarrass me at the wedding," he had said casually. But Claire had stood her ground and defended them. Besides uncle Lamb, Joe and Geillis were like family to her. They were her people.

The sound of violin music and the drone of voices drifting into the room alerted her. She knew Geillis, Joe and uncle Lamb were waiting outside, and soon the door would open. They left earlier when she told them she needed a moment alone. Any time now, they would come and fetch her. Feeling sick, she lurched toward the stained glass window and jiggled the knob. It budged a few inches, allowing hot air to flow through. Breathe! Why was she having second thoughts? Together they would be a power couple saving lives, attending charity events and helping change the world. So, what was the matter?

Nothing is the matter. I love Frank. He's great, and he makes me a better person.

Ya-dah, ya-dah. What do you know of love, Beauchamp? You kissed the Fraser lad. Maybe the hot Scot is not for you, but if you really love Frank, the kiss wouldn't have happened.

The hot weather and lack of sleep muddled my brains.

Yeah, right. Get a grip, Beauchamp.

What now?

Get the hell out of there and run!

Sunlight caught the sparkle of her diamond engagement ring, making her wince. Quickly, she took it off and placed it on the table. No time for weighing the consequences, the rights and wrongs, the cost. No time to draw up statistical or pie charts and mull over percentages.

Trust your gut, Beauchamp. It has never failed you on the operating table.

But I can't leave him waiting at the altar.

Listen, you fool. Once you walk down that aisle, it's over. So straighten those panties and worry about the consequences later.

Her head was spinning in a frenetic circle, making her dizzy. Claire looked at the closed door and swallowed hard. What she was about to do would change the course of her life and maybe, the career she had worked hard for. But there was no time.

Go, go, go, Beauchamp!

Bugger it! Heart pounding, Claire yanked the window with all her might, and to her astonishment, it opened like a shot nearly knocking her backwards. She didn't have time to analyse if it was her physical strength or the adrenaline increasing the blood flow into her muscles that made the window budge. Ignoring the judging eyes of the Blessed Virgin Mary statue, she squeezed her body through the opening and wriggled her way to freedom.

..........

"Thank you, Jamie. Sorry again to call you on such short notice. I owe you big time, mate," Joe said, saluting him as he opened the passenger door.

"Nae worries, Joe. Happy to help. Now, go before you miss the wedding," Jamie replied.

Joe smiled one last time and got out.

Jamie waited and watched his friend run and disappeared through the door of the church before easing his car from the curb. The church bell rang, letting him know the ceremony was about to commence. There were a few reporters with cameramen lingering outside and thought, whoever Joe's friend was marrying must be well-known and newsworthy.

Joe had called Jamie earlier after his car broke down. Apparently, the bride's uncle had forgotten to bring something important, and Geillis had sent him to retrieve it, by hook or by crook. Luckily for Joe, he caught him as he was about to leave for Lallybroch for the weekend.

Jamie was just turning right at the junction when a cloud of white material hanging out of a window on the far side of the church caught his attention. What the fuck? Not stopping to think, he slammed his foot on the brake and got out of the car, leaving it stranded in the middle of the road. He started to jog across the grassy area and over the bed of flowers, keeping his eye on the wriggling figure coming out of the window. Christ, is that the bride?

Then his heart stopped and faltered. The person in the white dress was falling. His perception of time became distorted, slowing everything down until there was nothing, only the figure in white that was about to hit the ground. No! No! Please, God! Pushing himself, he bolted like a sprinter at the start gun, covering the uneven ground with a precise speed of a disciplined athlete, knowing full well his thighs had enough power to make it in seconds, each of his strides at least worth two of an untrained person. Barely breaking a sweat, he made it in the nick of time and caught the body in his arms.

His heart knocking uncontrollably against his ribs, he let out a massive sigh of relief and looked down at the bride. Her porcelain skin was flushed, and her fancy hairdo lay lopsided to the side with pins sticking out, making the dark curls spring wildly around her face. His gaze briefly landed on her parted lips before settling on a pair of snapping amber eyes. He fought past his lack of speech and wondered if the weeks he'd spent in a drunken stupor was causing him to hallucinate. "Sassenach!?!"

#melodyheart #startingover #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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isaacdian · 4 years

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hope you don't mind me asking, do you have any Isaac and Miria headcanons? i'd love to read some from you. you appear to have a good grasp on the characters, and great love for them. :)

aw thank you so much for the ask, sure thing!

some of these will probably get into theory territory as well, because i’ve had the novels sitting in my mind for years now, and there are a few details i’d like to mention (beware of baccano light novel spoilers, just in case).

this could get a bit long, so you can read it below the cut:

i’ll write my headcanons/thoughts in no particular order. more people might have come to similar conclusions, but i don’t think i’ve seen any posts or had any discussions with anyone regarding these (at least in depth), so!

- i like to think that miria and isaac ran away from their then (seemingly) unhappy lives after they got to interact with each other for quite a while, and not spontaneously upon meeting for the first time.

there isn’t much evidence to back this up beyond some characters commenting that they “were probably runaways” or that “maybe they eloped”, so they might have escaped together on the spot, since we already know they can be very impulsive. however, i get this feeling that their bond took some time to develop, and i’d love to see some of their interactions as isaac dian —and— miria harvent before they ever became isaac & miria, if that makes sense.

i doubt they met too long before their string of robberies, though? this is such a weirdly specific and probably meaningless thing to pinpoint, but in 1935 miria asks isaac if he’s ever been to the circus, and he responds that he does remember animals, but he doesn’t remember if that was the circus or the zoo. this hardly means anything, but their circumstances overall don’t really make me think that they’ve known each other since they were too young.

- whatever optimism and general exhilaration regarding life isaac has is innate. on the other hand, miria has mostly acquired her own sense of hopefulness over time, with isaac’s help.

miria is a 100% confirmed literal ray of sunshine and this indisputable. it just hasn’t/doesn’t always come to her as effortlessly as it may seem. bloody to fair isaac and miria magic show color page.png

this is somewhat related to the next one (and also the last point i’ll mention at the end of this post):

- when isaac gets arrested and he and miria get separated in 1934, they’re both having an equally hard time dealing with this.

okay this one is like. obvious ksjksk. but i wanted to talk about how they deal with this situation, because at first glance it looks like miria got the shortest end of the stick here. and in a way, that might be true! i’ve already mentioned that miria herself has been shown thinking about how much isaac helped her to be happy, and narita has been deliberately vague regarding the nature of their silliness, on top of hinting at the possibility of their shenanigans being a kind of mechanism to escape the harsh realities of life from the rolling bootlegs (very first novel), if i recall correctly.

(btw:

i recall that somewhere in the 1935 arc, graham starts talking with the usual “let me tell you a sad, sad story” prelude. however, isaac and miria are upset by this, and they tell him that he shouldn’t tell sad stories, because if you do it, your happiness will run away. meanwhile, this part in cloudy to rainy living rent free in my head:

i have to laugh..........)

that being said, i couldn’t help but feel like isaac was having an equally bad time, even if he displayed it in a different and not so blatant way. while i was rereading the novels after i got to buy the official english release, i felt very strongly that something was definitely wrong about their separation, which, again, is obvious to us readers and to the characters who know isaac & miria. but it extends beyond that. there was this general feeling of knowing that whoever came across an unaccompanied isaac would magically feel like there was something missing. i don’t know how else to explain this. he’s still full of energy and optimism and he’s fueled by his desire to reunite with miria, but every time he’s shown hesitating or doesn’t reach a satisfying conclusion while thinking about a frivolous topic, it hits you like “oh... right” (firo didn’t help much on that last front, either, so miria and isaac must have had to discuss what exactly happens to fellas who don’t believe in fairies after their reunion... lol)

in short, he needs miria just as much as she needs him. this is something i’ve seen other people mention as well: isaac might be the “force” factor in their relationship, but that force won’t amount to much without miria’s “direction”, and viceversa. the lift each other up, and they keep each other grounded, too.

i’m also remembering isaac and sham’s conversation and just. there’s a self-esteem/confidence factor in there. Fun Game of Spot the Difference

and this is getting ridiculously long, so i’ll spare you from having to read my dumb thots about isaac’s (possibly real) fear of miria not liking him, as the narrator implies, which i subconsciously ended up linking to that one impossibly crack ending in the ds game, where you pick the option of him not knowing frankenstein’s monster’s real name, so miria leaves him after realizing how “cheap and uncool” he is LMAO

- isaac’s father might have been an academic of some sort, as well as a stern man who disapproved of his son’s flighty and childish tendencies.

???????? besides miria’s implied tragic backstory, the most we know about both of their pasts is that isaac comes from a wealthy family with whom he seems to have a bad relationship with, so even though i’ve tried to work out other details (his parents’ provenance for instance?) i can’t really elaborate on this. even if isaac’s knowledge on the topic is pretty scrambled (to put it nicely lol), he knows a lot about “the orient” as he puts it, and the “dian” surname is pretty unique so who knows!👀 i’ve only mentioned his father because isaac, too, has only mentioned his "old man” twice so far in the novels, if i’m not mistaken. in my opinion, it also speaks volumes how flustered isaac got when molsa apologized to him, because it was the first time someone older than him has done this. and this is pretty arbitrary, but if isaac started robbing and getting into trouble before he and miria even met and/or before he got kicked out/ran away from home, that whole deal about “being used to dealing with policemen” (in the unofficial translation i read back in the day it was something along the lines of “this isn’t my first time being interrogated by the police”) in 1934 would make sense, i guess, considering that miria didn’t realize what was going on at the moment even though she’s a fairly perceptive person.

anyways it’s too bad we don’t know that much about miria on this front, also!! i get the vague feeling that she might have also come from a wealthy family (probably not a good environment, though), since in 1935 it’s mentioned that the closest they’ve ever gotten to working/having a job was when they were digging for gold, apparently. that’s why i can’t really think of anything too specific regarding miria’s past and upbringing... i have a feeling that she might have felt alone, trapped and/or overwhelmed. let’s just hope that when she said her bruises would heal up fine with ice in 1935 it had nothing to do with this “i should have died” business :(((

- even though isaac and miria love their friends and would do anything for them, they aren’t particularly attached to anyone (or any place) besides each other.

this is more of an observation than a headcanon, but i find it really interesting: they would definitely do anything for their friends, and they do enjoy life very intensely, but that’s precisely why they don’t seem to be fixed in one singular spot? basically, i feel like they’re the personification of “home is where the heart is” taken to the extreme. they could go anywhere and do anything as long as they have each other, and they will never make any attempts to actively do things that make it easier to label their relationship, such as getting married, which is heavily implied by firo (i think) in 2002 bullet garden (i think!!). that’s also part of the reason why i’m sure they’d never find themselves commiting to things like taking care of a pet, or a child; it’s more like they instantly “adopt” everyone they run into, as if they’ve always been friends, even if they won’t meet again for months, years, or ever again. anyway, isaac and miria are extremely good and they are literally going to be happy together forever and ever! they don’t need to prove that.

that doesn’t mean they’re not sentimental, though! i like to think that they keep some meaningful objects that remind them of fond memories of their friends. and this is hardly canon because it shows up in the anime And in a background at that, but shoutout to the rocking toy horse in their california mine lol.

- miria knew about her own immortality (as well as isaac’s) before the 2000s.

THIS IS PROBABLY MY SPICIEST TAKE and i tried to back it up in the next point of this list. i still keep thinking i’m reading too much, into this but

i can’t stop thinking about the implications, folks

which brings us to:

- miria is smarter than isaac is and actually has a fairly good idea of when he’s making stuff up, but is happy to let him take the lead.

i won’t deny that isaac and miria dedicate a huge chunk of their day to doing moronic stuff, and they are pretty dumb, but i feel like people don’t give them enough credit for how perceptive they are. even though that’s true of the two of them, i feel like this mostly applies to miria.

among other things, we’ve learned that she knows ronny isn’t human and has supernatural powers (wow), which is why she comes to him for help after isaac’s arrest. she’s very good at paying attention to small details, such as the kind of programs ennis watches on tv, or chané’s feelings, when the two talk in 1934. miria also “really knows her way around japanese” and has been shown to --apparently?-- multiply large numbers in her head in 1935... while isaac was talking about how good of an idea it would be to use the martingale betting system. not to mention how isaac stated he “doesn’t know how to count money” earlier in this arc. my god ksdjgjks. i want to know what’s up with this, if anything.

so, yeah! there’s probably more stuff that i could mention, but i am exhausted lol. thank you for your patience anon, i have no idea how long this has been sitting in my inbox. always happy to get baccano questions <3 i apologize for any typos/errors and the like.

bonus headcanon: miria grabs ennis with one hand and chané with her other hand and they go out with their arms linked and excited and they learn more about having fun, as friends do. no printer just fax

#Anonymous #baccano #headcanon

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thebibliomancer · 4 years

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #207: Beyond a Shadow...

May, 1981

“After countless centuries HE LIVES AGAIN! THE SHADOW LORD COMETH!”

He cometh riding upon a tornado like its a mighty sand worm. What a guy, this Shadow Lord.

Honestly seeing the Avengers tumbling about in a tornado cracks me up every time. Especially Wonder Man who looks nonchalant about it aside from being ass over head.

So I don’t think we’ve really talked about it but this period of Avengers is kind of between main writers.

Since issue 200 and its four writers, we’ve had David Michelinie and Roger Stern on the two-part adaptation of that Ultron novel, David Michelinie for that weird story with the Crawlers in the sewers; Jim Shooter, David Michelinie, and Bob Budiansky for the Yellow Claw two-parter, Bill Mantlo for the everything is on fire story and now Bob Budiansky and Danny Fingeroth for this issue and the next. We start getting a consistent writer again starting in #211.

I wonder what was going on behind the scenes around this time.

Anyway, onward.

So we start the issue with who I assume is the Shadow Lord. But he’s not riding a tornado, like Pecos Bill. He’s standing on an invisible ocean structure of some kind. Apparently a mysterious invisible ocean structure of some kind that hasn’t been seen for almost two millennia.

And yet, someone has kindly painted the title of the issue in English on the mysterious invisible ocean structure of some kind.

Some guy, maybe the Shadow Lord: “The dreaded time has at last arrived, the moment I prayed would never come... the moment I knew would surely come. He is soon to return, and only the power entrusted to me is capable of stopping him. And even that power may not prove sufficient.”

“With every passing second, my city and myself pass ever more fully into the Earth’s plane of existence. Would that the cause of my return here from the barren vastnesses of the Shadow World was as joyous as the glow of this new day’s sun.”

“But the grim responsibility of an entire race is my unwelcome inheritance. It is a duty I cannot shirk. Alas, I must take what comfort I can in knowing that no matter what the result of the coming debacle, I will at least be free to rejoin Ayshera, she whom my heart holds most dear... though whether our reunion will be in celebration of victory -- or in darkest mourning for the ashes of this planet -- none willy truly know until the final battle.”

Some Guy sure is helpfully monologuing his entire life story here. And even so he manages to be vague, inside his own mind, about the nature of the threat he faces. Way to preserve the mystery, Guy.

Also, he’s from the Shadow World so he may be a Yugioh.

Anyway, as one might expect, a city appearing in the middle of the ocean out of nowhere is of alarm so US aircraft carrier Poseidon shows up and starts yelling at Some Guy.

Some Guy decides that they sound mad but he doesn’t have time for lengthy explanations so instead he gestures and the winds and waves start whipping up.

Welp! Seems like the US Poseidon is going on an Adventure!

Meanwhile, Mt. Vesuvius!

Yup. Its that kind of story, the kind partially set at Vesuvius.

Some archeologists are digging in the foothills of the mountain in what has been a fruitless several weeks of archeology but one of the archeologists finds a hand shaped object which may be a hand.

They mistake it for a statue at first but realize its actually a perfectly preserved lava mummified corpse.

And while they’re busy congratulating each other about how wealthy and famous this discovery will make them, they fail to notice the hand moving its finger shaped fingers.

And elsewhere again, the best damn thing.

A cowboy shouts “SLAP LEATHER, YA GALOOT!” and then gets shot by a cannon.

This isn’t the Wild West of the America, this is a spaghetti western film set and the director is very upset at Black Bart’s shitty death acting. How hard is it to get hit by a cannon and then to fall down and pretend to die like you just got hit by a cannon?

You wouldn’t think there’s a wrong way to get shot by a cannon but you’d be wrong.

Simon Williams, Wonder Man: “I’m sorry, Mr. Bertolini. It’s just that, being Wonder Man, it’s hard for me to pretend those cannonballs are hurting me when I can hardly feel them.”

Mr. Bertolini: “True, signore Wonder Man, but I hired you because I thought you could-a act!”

Oh yeah, Mr. Bertolini talks like Mario. So that’s another tally for Marvel’s respect of other countries and cultures.

Aside from this being the seventh take on a ‘guy gets hit by a cannonball, beefs it’ scene, cannonballs are expensive. The cannonball that bounced off Wonder Man’s midsection looks fine but maybe you can’t just reuse them.

The filming breaks for lunch and Wonder Man wanders over to where his moral support is.

His moral support, of course, being Beast.

And he is moral supporting but he’s also multitasking with some women because even in Italy, women are just fascinated by blue fur. Furries are universal.

Wonder Man doesn’t feel supported though and this lousy spaghetti western film is a good opportunity for him.

If you remember, the last project we saw him get was as a cheetah print leotard wearing muscle man on a kids show and he got fired for making the host Uncle Elmer look ridiculous.

(Revealed to Simon’s chagrin in #194, lost to mishap in #201)

Being in an actual movie, even a spaghetti western, is the boost his career needs.

(I think we need to confront the actual possibility that Wonder Man is not a very good actor. But he might be a good stunt man if he can learn to act like things hurt)

Wonder Man’s publicist Rachel Palmer shows up as well and wow. Rachel has never appeared before and given the fillery nature of these chaotic no consistent writer times may not appear beyond this story. But you instantly get the sense of their working relationship.

And they have good banter too.

Wonder Man: “Wait. There she is -- Rachel Palmer -- the apple of my eye, the light of my life, the bane of my existence!”

Rachel: “If you delivered your lines that well in front of the cameras, Simon, you might actually keep this job -- which’ll make it just a little easier to hype you as a star back in the States.”

Wonder Man: “Your encouraging words are a constant source of inspiration, Rachel. But I’d appreciate it if you’d confine them to your press releases.”

Rachel: “You’ve got me all wrong, Simon. I hope this whole thing turns out well for you. Really.”

Wonder Man: “And for yourself. After all, if you make me a big name, you can ride along on my coat-tails and become a media hotshot -- instead of being stuck as a flak for Grade D Westerns.”

Rachel: “No, Simon. I--”

Wonder Man: “Forget it, lady. I’m a big boy. I know that all’s fair in love -- and show biz.”

And then he walks off towards his trailer, satisfied at getting the last word with someone whose job it is to make him look good. Beast says that he thinks Wonder Man was too hard on her and that Rachel probably digs Wonder Man.

Wonder Man: “Maybe you’re right. But I still can’t get over feeling that Rachel’s motivated by sheer self-interest and everything else places a distant second.”

(I’m pretty sure she does dig Wonder Man because unbeknowst to Wonder Man and Beast, she follows them to the trailer, wanting to convince Wonder Man that she’s not as self-serving as he thinks and also to invite him to a romantic dinner)

Anyway, Wonder Man’s social life isn’t important. At all. And not right now. Because when he and Beast go into Wonder Man’s trailer and discover the Avengers’ emergency signal briefcase is BEEP BEEPing.

It’s Cap and there’s an emergency situation that demands immediate investigation.

A brand new island city has just popped up in the middle of the Mediterranean slash off the coast of Majorca from out of nowhere and the government wants the Avengers to investigate.

Presumably the US government.

Because if I know anything about mysterious island cities appearing from nowhere - and I know exactly one thing - by jingo, they start wars!

Beast is enjoying his vacation so asks why the US Sixth Fleet doesn’t handle it instead. They’re actually paid to do things while on an ocean. But Iron Man just says that the fleet has had problems.

And with a little reading comprehension we can guess what problems. Because we’ve seen it. Its not a mystery.

Iron Man has a Stark plane sent to pick Beast and Wonder Man up and fly them to Majorca. Or somewhere thereabouts. I don’t know if Majorca has or had an airport.

Wonder Man bemoans that he’ll never be a movie star if he keeps leaving the set to go have exciting comic book superhero adventures.

Which is a little like complaining about being too handsome. Ya jerk.

And remember how Rachel Palmer was peeping on them? No? Scroll up a little and look at the above panels again. Back? And remember how Rachel Palmer was peeping on them?

Her media senses are tingling and telling her that she should definitely go check out the city that appeared in the middle of the ocean. She’s much intrepid for not a reporter.

Meanwhile, some slice of life filler fluff that doesn’t matter but that I find delightful.

And if this liveblog isn’t about sharing things that I find delightful then what is it about? Exhaustively recounting plots to comic books from decades ago? That’s just a side benefit!

The call to action back at Avengers Mansion comes right when Wanda is having Vision move a couch.

Vision: “Wanda, while it may be true that I am capable of moving this couch about all day, it seems a gross misuse of my android abilities to do so.”

Wanda: “Maybe if we just move those shelves then you just put it down there. We’re Avengers, not interior decorators.

This is the content I eagerly crave.

So back in not America, Beast and Wonder Man complain about the plane ride but passing over the ocean they see what trouble the Sixth Fleet was having.

Some Guy, Possibly Shadow Lord managed to strand the Poseidon aircraft carrier fully on a deserted island.

And I was wrong about the plane taking them to Majorca. Its apparently taking them to Poseidon because it lands on the ship’s airstrip so the two Avengers can consult the stranded sailors about what the heck is going on.

Captain Paul Garrison tells them that they were investigating the mysterious new island/city (not mentioning that they were also yelling at it) when a tidal wave suddenly swelled up and carried the Poseidon several miles and left it on this island.

And apparently the same thing happened to any other plane and ship that attempted to approach the island. Thwarted by winds and waves.

Damn you, nature!

Anyway, its all rather mysterious but Wonder Man figures

“Well, we were sent here to investigate. So... let’s investigate.”

And Wonder Man rockets off to investigate the city. While giving Beast a piggyback ride.

Which. Amazing image. Bless this issue for its bounty of amazing images.

Bear in mind that the captain said that the aircraft carrier was carried several miles. Wonder Man’s belt rockets have impressive duration considering he can’t be carrying much fuel on his person.

When they reach the city, they find a localized hurricane hovering right above it. But Wonder Man just flies down through the eye of the storm to get to the city.

Some Guy Shadow Lord is surprised because he had been expecting big boats and planes. Not a guy with rocket pants and a blue gorilla riding on his back.

But he’s able to shoo them away just as easily as any big thing, with a wave of his hand summoning a wind that carries Wonder Man and passenger Beast away from the city.

Meanwhile, Rachel Palmer is also here. She spent all her money renting a plane and then a boat but she’s going to get to that mysterious city and get an exclusive inside story!

So is she a journalist? Or what? She’s Lois Laneing but as far as we’ve heard her job is to convince people they want to see Wonder Man do stuff in movies.

Wonder Man spots her and tries to fly to her rescue but two water spouts spurt up to ruin this rescue plan.

The first one launches Rachel’s boat into the air and smashes it to pieces. The second blasts Wonder Man out of the sky preventing him from saving Rachel from falling to her death.

But unseen by either of the Avengers, a strong breeze safely lowers Rachel to the ground of the city.

Because what is an Avengers comic without men developing weird and intense feelings for a nearby woman.

Some Guy: “How beautiful she is, how like my own Ayshera. And, also like Ayshera, she is courageous... and more than a little headstrong.”

Cool. I hope this doesn’t get weird. Or that we’re not asked to sympathize with a guy whose only ‘sympathetic’ trait is a possessive attraction to a woman. Looking at you, Living Laser. And, I guess, Graviton.

Anyway, Wonder Man doesn’t see Rachel getting rescued by an airbender so he works himself into a lather.

Wonder Man: “That sinks it! It’s one thing to attack naval ships and planes... one thing to attack Avengers... But when he kills an innocent woman who could do him no harm -- that guy’s gonna answer to WONDER MAN!”

Honestly, I think you’re selling Rachel short. I’m sure she could do harm if she put her mind to it. Like, what if she covered him in bees. That would suck.

Anyway, Wonder Man rages through the city’s protective winds and then gets SAFUUSH!’d between two walls of solid water.

He’s left sputtering and disoriented in the ocean. At least until some hooks hook down from the Quinjet, hook Wonder Man, and then hook him up into the ship.

I didn’t know that the Quinjet had hooks for grabbing people out of the ocean but I am thrilled.

Ideally, the Avengers would use their newfound ability to vaudeville hook people into orbit more often. I can think of so many instances where it would be useful, or at least hilarious.

Anyway, Wonder Man apprises the other Avengers into the situation.

Meanwhile, not dead Rachel Palmer wakes up and finds the Shadow Lord brood slouching in a chair and watching her while she was unconscious.

She is alarmed that he’s just sitting there staring but he basically goes ‘DON’T WORRY I READ YOUR MIND TO LEARN YOUR NAME AND LANGUAGE’ and then decides to explain his entire backstory.

Shadow Lord: “The city in which we stand is the Shadow Realm and I... I am called the Shadow Lord!”

DAMMIT I KNEW HE WAS A YUGIOH!

Anyway.

THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO! Give or take! An ancient tribe decided to move to an island to isolate themselves from “primitive, superstitious neighbors who feared [their] more advanced society.”

Off to a good start with this guy.

Free of the mundane concerns of living in a world that hated and feared them, they were able to peacefully ALL BECOME WIZARDS WHO COULD CONTROL THE FORCES OF NATURE.

Maybe the X-Men are onto something.

So the Shadow Lord’s people learned to control, winds, waves, earth, and maybe fire so what I’m saying is that it was an entire island of Avatars.

Boom, sequel idea. Give me millions of dollars, Nickelodeon.

“Though veiled in mystery, rumors of our existence spread throughout the world. We were feared and shunned by the other peoples of the Earth -- which allowed us to continue our studies undisturbed.”

“Those who mistrusted anything they could not comprehend... they called us witches and sorcerers. Those who knew and understood us called us... the Earth Lords!”

“For centuries our sole purposes were to augment our knowledge of the Earth’s forces and to maintain the natural balance between these forces. Otherwise, we had no interest in the day-to-day affairs of the outside world.”

Maybe I was wrong about them being Yugioh. Maybe they’re the Time Lords from the Doctor Who.

Anyway, the Earth Lords were happy sitting on their island being Avatars but over the eons they sensed a disturbance in the Force, for I must reference all the things.

"Over the eons, we became aware of a seemingly immortal, human force of awesome destruction, one who could potentially plunge mankind into an irreversible slide to its doom.”

“Singlehandedly he could destroy towns. With an army beside him -- countries. Time and again, he did. It was when he finally joined the legions of Rome at the peak of the Empire’s power... that we first feared the balance of nature was in danger of being destroyed. Rome could forever take over the world.”

The Earth Lords tried on several occasions to destroy this menace. We don’t get to know what constituted these efforts and that’s disappointing because of what the final successful attempt was.

By 79 AD, they knew he was on the slopes of Mt. Vesuvius so they caused it to erupt, just to bury this one guy under hundreds of tons of rock and ash and lava.

Mission accomplished.

Except for the little thing where the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius also wiped out Pompeii and Herculaneum and other cities people know significantly less about, killing over 20,000 people.

As things go, that’s pretty dire amount of incidental deaths to kill one person. And the Earth Lords realize that this was a pretty major fuck up.

So they decided that they couldn’t be trusted with their powers and that they would disperse into the outside world to live and die as people do and have their powers dissipate over the years.

But before they did that, they discovered that the seemingly immortal guy they hit in the face with a volcano was somehow still alive somehow. Just trapped. Under hundreds of tons of rock and ash and lava that cooled into rock.

They killed thousands and didn’t even permanently kill the dude they were trying to kill? That’s pretty incompetent. They really can’t be trusted with their power.

Since he eventually might get out and resume being a dick, the Earth Lords drew lots and chose one of their number, the Some Guy later known as the Shadow Lord from the Shadow Realm, to forever watch over the city alone and await the day that the immortal guy would again walk the land.

And to help him solo the dude that took an entire city of people and a volcano to deal with, the Earth Lords concentrated all of their powers into this one Shadow Lord guy and taught him how to send himself and the city into a twilight plane of nothingness which is back to being called the Shadow World.

So this might also be Twilight Princess.

For two thousand years the Shadow Lord in the Shadow Realm in the Shadow World observed Earth and waited. And now, it seems that the seemingly immortal dude is back.

Rachel: “But I don’t understand. How can one man threaten a whole world -- and live for thousands of years in solid rock?”

Shadow Lord: “This is no mere man, my dear... this is the Berserker!”

And speak of the devil and we scene transition to him because we scene transition to Pompeii.

The lava mummified human figure that seemed to move before has stopped beating about with finger twitches and has gotten up to rampage around and backhand archeologists.

Don’t feel bad though. They were in it for the money and fame, those fiends.

Back at the city of Shadow Realm, the Avengers suddenly show up as a full team and basically enter swinging. Iron Man even blasts a wall for no reason.

Rachel tries to tell the Avengers that Shadow Lord means no harm but the Avengers can’t hear her over the sounds of Wonder Man loudly reassuring Rachel that they’re here to rescue her.

Iron Man exploding a wall for no reason probably also didn’t help.

So Rachel instead tries to tell Shadow Lord that the Avengers are a force for good. While he can hear her, he chooses to ignore her.

Using his powers of being the Avatar, he tries to pull a rocks fall but nobody dies. Rocks falling is something the Avengers deal with panache and also lasers and punches.

Some panache. Beast’s skycycle gets hit by a rock and he ends up leaping onto one of the spires of the city to avoid crash. And then, like a cat who climbs a tree except its a building in this context, Beast has a hard time figuring out how to get down from there.

While the larger Avengers punch and laser boulders and jump onto spires, Wasp just flies right in and shoots Shadow Lord in the eyebrow.

Amazing. Another good use of Wasp powers, being able to get in close while the opponent thinks the team is distracted at a distance.

Shadow Lord is none too pleased to be shot in the eyebrow by a tiny insect-sized flying woman and decides that a particularly karmic punishment is required.

Shadow Lord: “An insect-sized flyling woman! What sorcery is this? But if an insect you be, then it is only fitting I ensnare you in a cocoon of living wind... a cocoon which will grow and envelop your so-called fellow Avengers!”

And as Rachel still pleads with Shadow Lord to knock it off, he summons a giant tornado that suck in all of the Avengers (save Beast stuck up on his spire).

Shadow Lord even has the tornado carry him along, the better to continue mocking the Avengers as he carries them to their doom.

Shadow Lord: “You hopeless children! Did you actually think to defeat me, to deter me from my purpose? I who who command the earth and wind themselves to do my bidding?”

Yeah, dude. Definitely not sounding like a supervillain now. Cannot fathom why the Avengers are assuming you are one.

Iron Man manages to escape the tornado by firing his boot-jets at maximum, sending him flying free with a SHA-BOOSH! but also carrying him far away because momentum.

Shadow Lord then creates a whirlpool in the ocean and has his tornado carry the Avengers towards it. The whirlpool goes to the bottom of the ocean. Which then cracks open to reveal bubbling magma.

That’s right. The Shadow Lord is going to shoot them out of a tornado, into a whirlpool and into magma beneath the ocean floor.

Its. At least more precise than hitting them with a volcano, I’ll give him that. Definitely feels like overkill to go from rocks to tornado-whirlpool-magma execution but its definitely more precise.

Somewhat more precise.

Because when Iron Man manages to slow himself down to turn back he notices that a yacht is being swamped by the waves Shadow Lord is churning up.

And because of heroism, he takes the time to scoop the yacht out of the ocean and rest it safely on an island.

Geez. There’s a lot of boats being beached in this story.

Shadow Lord actually sees this. And a thought starts penetrating his thick skull that maybe he should have listened to Rachel.

Shadow Lord: “The armored one paused in his attack on me to save those people -- innocent people... which is more than we were able to do 2,000 years ago. Perhaps, as Rachel says, they are not agents of evil...”

He decides that he’ll stop throwing them out of a tornado into a whirlpool into magma but he doesn’t get the chance to put that train of thought on the tracks.

Beast waves Iron Man over. From his perch on the spire he’s noticed that the building he’s on is cracking from the strain of all the power Shadow Lord is throwing around even though he’s not been throwing it at that building.

So Beast deduces that the city is key to Shadow Lord’s power in some way and should have the shit beaten out of it.

And as Iron Man starts punching some wall, Shadow Lord doubles over in pain and the tornado he was about to dissipate dissipates.

The other Avengers get free and decide hey, follow the leader.

Jocasta: “The battle has truly just begun. Malevolent power such as this must not be allowed to exist. We must follow Iron Man’s lead and destroy the city -- totally!”

So unnoticed by the Avengers as they level the city into a pile of rubble, Shadow Lord staggers and swoons at Rachel’s feet.

But even dying, he still has some exposition bottled up.

To be fair, he’s been isolated for 2,000 years with no one to talk to.

He explains that the powers of an entire population of Avatars was way too great to be contained in one squishy mortal body so the powers were instead imbued in the city itself.

And with the city destroyed, it can no longer serve as a source of power and also can’t keep him alive anymore.

He’s honestly not too broken up over it. Since the Avengers are valiant and worthy, they can pick up his unfinished business while he goes and dies and gets to reunite with his girlfriend who died sometime during those 2,000 years.

Shadow Lord: “But please understand... I am as much to blame for today’s events as anyone... I bear you no malice... we misjudged each other. I have done my best... no more can be expected of a man... perhaps you will succeed... where I have failed. So do not mourn my passing... for me, death is but the long-awaited door that opens to my beloved... Ayshera.”

And the Avengers realize belatedly ‘we done goofed.’

“A sad -- and confused -- group of heroes grimly watches the passing of the Shadow Lord... and only then does the cruel truth reveal itself to them: what they had thought to be one of their greatest triumphs is instead... one of their most bitter defeats.”

Oh, and as I expect they’ll soon find out, the Berserker has been kicking the Italian army’s ass near Pompeii so that’s probably escalating into a bit of a situation and they just accidentally killed the guy who could have helped with that. Although in fairness, he deliberately ignored Rachel when she told him that the Avengers were heroes.

Like he said, he fucked up too.

Still, while its a bit of a Marvel tradition to have mighty misunderstanding fights, I don’t think they tend to result in people dying. One for the history books.

Next time: the Berserker.

Follow @essential-avengers. Also like and reblog. And send me Avengers triumphs that are way more impressive than beating up a city.

#Avengers #Essential Avengers #Wonder Man #Beast #SHADOW LORD #essential marvel liveblogging #Iron Man #Wasp #Captain America #Jocasta #Vision #Scarlet Witch #huh its been a while since they've gotten to do much #from the volcano thing and the tornado whirlpool depths of the earth thing #i think that the Earth Lords just had no grasp on subtlety at all #go big or go big

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lostsoulobsidian · 4 years

Text

She likes detective stories

ElongSue fanfic, Ralph Dibny/Sue Dearbon (kind of, implied I guess). The Flash CW

After an interview with Sue’s former boyfriend, Ralph thinks about her and he's shocked to notice he's starting to see her as something else than a case.

It hadn't been easy, getting an appointment with Mr. Wladon. He was quite busy, being the head, in Washington, of the consulate of Modora, a tiny but wealthy republic in Eastern Europe.

He was also the man whom Sue Dearbon had had her most serious relationship with, according to her parents.

Ralph had had to call to the consulate several times, but his secretary kept giving him the round around, because he was a nobody, until he decided to throw discretion away and say it was about Sue’s disappearance. After that, the secretary rushed to call him back to make an appointment.

Once he was, at last, at his magnificent (and maybe a bit pretentious) office, he got to study the guy. Bito Wladon was a handsome, well dressed and dark-haired man, with a fancily trimmed beard and almost as tall as Ralph himself. Obviously, that young lady was used to have only the finest in everything - clothes, jewels... and boyfriends.

"Mr. Dibny". He greeted, extending his hand to him; his English had a weird accent. "My secretary informed me that you want to talk about Susan Dearbon. I-I didn't know she was missing. I thought she was on a trip across Europe''.

Sue's parents had spread that excuse around for all the not-so-close friends, relatives and acquaintances for the sake of discretion. Starting a nationwide search when she could have just fled for her own will would have entailed a scandal for both the Dearbons and Sue herself.

"When was the last time you saw Miss Dearbon?"

"In July of last year, when we broke up. We went separate ways since then."

He sharpened his senses. Being dumped is a good motive for revenge.

"I know this could be a little personal to ask, but why did you break your relationship? Was it a mutual decision or...?”

Wladon seemed embarrassed but answered anyway.

"She did break up, but it was my fault. I... proposed to her, I think before she was ready. Maybe I scared her. She said she was sorry but didn't want to tie herself down to anyone."

"Sorry to hear it", Ralph tried to sound sympathetic.

"I knew she didn't believe in marriage, but I had to try. She is the most amazing woman in the world, and I would have been the luckiest man if she had accepted me. But I doubt there’s someone so lucky. She never got too attached to anyone. She’s a free spirit".

For some reason, Ralph started to feel uneasy.

"Do you know if she had enemies, anyone who would want to harm her for some reason..."

"I don't think she has enemies; she is the kind of person who everybody likes. But she might have gotten into trouble".

"Trouble?", Ralph raised his eyes from his notebook. "Could you explain that?"

"Well, she has a thing for detectives".

He blinked in confusion.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, she likes detective stories, mysteries. With passion. She has read all the books about mystery and crimes, and has watched every movie and show with detectives, especially the noir genre. Though her favorite are the ones of The Thin Man series."

"The Thin Man?"

"Yes. You know, the classic films with William Powell and Myrna Loy. They are her favorite movies."

"The Thin… all right". Ralph wrote the title on his notebook. He didn't know whether it would be useful but knowing his target's thoughts and preferences could help him to track her steps.

"She liked this detective thing so much that she liked to play it in the real life. She used to think her life as a mystery, adventurous story; and see herself as a detective amateur."

"Like Nancy Drew, you would say?", Ralph pointed out.

"Sort of", Wladon nodded with a smile. "She used to see hints for crimes or conspiracies everywhere and liked to follow the tracks she considered to be the most important, like it was an actual investigation", he recalled. "Her friends and I didn't mind that hobby of hers, it was one of her little eccentricities that made her so special. But now I think she might have run into something dangerous. Maybe, a real crime."

"I see", Ralph answered. "Do you remember something she could have said about those so-called 'investigations' of hers? Anything remarkable?"

"I don't know, she liked to follow up so many seeming clues... I remember once she told me she thought there was a dark, criminal organization wherein the highest echelons were involved. I didn't pay her much attention; she was always with those conspiracy theories. I'd wish I had listened to her so I could provide you with more details. I don't know whether she was right or wrong, but I couldn't forgive myself if something has happened to her."

Should he follow up on that "dark organization" track? Maybe he should gather more information from other sources. Until that, it seemed too vague for centering his investigation on it.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Thank you for your time, Mr. Wladon."

Ralph was quite sure that Bito Wladon was not responsible in Sue Dearbon's disappearance. Husbands, boyfriends (including former husbands or boyfriends) ... used to be the first suspects when a woman went missing, and usually not without a reason. Ralph's instincts didn't use to fail him. He used to know, just looking into the suspect's eyes, whether they were innocent or guilty. Many times, the husband or boyfriend was the culprit, like Regan Gimlin.

But that was not the case. Wladon's eyes didn't show guilt nor fear. He seemed to be ambitious and condescending, sure, and there was something in his eyes that Ralph didn't like, but he felt it had nothing to do with Sue. He seemed truly worried about her, maybe a bit more than worried. If he had to, Ralph would had bet that he was still in love with her.

Maybe he didn’t like him simply because he was a politician. Ralph had never liked politicians.

He turned to leave, but Wladon called him:

"Mr. Dibny?"

"Yes?" He turned again to him.

"Please find her and make sure she's safe".

"I will", he promised.

His suspicions were correct: Wladon still loved his ex-girlfriend and couldn’t cope with having lost her. Ralph couldn't blame him, though. He would have felt the same if he were in his place. Not that he would have the chance of knowing how it would be like, ever. He never was able to make work his relationships with regular girls, so a top-class one like Sue Dearbon would never even look at him.

That night, he looked again into the file of his case. He took a photo of his target and looked to it for a while. It was a pretty recent one, maybe from a couple of months before she went missing.

He had to admit she was quite attractive. No, she was gorgeous: her dark hair framed an angel face, and she had beautiful blue eyes and a cheerful, sweet smile. Her features were classy and somehow fragile, the kind that made you want to wrap her in your arms forever, to protect her. And something in her eyes was inviting and defying at the same time.

"A free spirit", Wladon had said.

The kind of girl who could drive any man crazy.

The kind of girl who could become any man's dream.

"She has a thing for detectives..."

He shook his head. What the heck was he thinking? Those thoughts were out of character for him. He was a professional, and she was his target. Nothing more.

He would have to be careful or would end up like the guy from that classic movie he watched ages ago... Laura, it was called. In that movie, a detective investigates the murder of a pretty, classy woman (not very different of Sue Dearbon), and he obsesses so much over her that he ends up falling in love with her memory...

(Later, it was revealed that she's alive, but that was not the point).

Sue Dearbon was not dead, he could feel it. She was alive somewhere, but she surely was in trouble, like Wladon said. Why else had she vanished with no trace, nor telling a thing to her worried parents.

She was alive somewhere, waiting to be found. Waiting to be rescued.

And he was the right person to do it.

"She likes detective stories"...

He searched for The Thin Man first movie and found it in one of those TV on demand channels. The main characters, played by Powell and Loy, were Nick and Nora Charles, a married couple who investigated mysteries together. The story was a little predictable and Ralph solved the crime much before the end of the movie, but he liked it. It was quite funny, and the Charles' relationship was couple goals.

But later, when he went to sleep, he had quite a weird dream. He was in The Thin Man universe, he was Nick Charles, and Sue Dearbon was Nora, his wife. And, just like the Charles, they lived an adventurous life, investigating mysteries together. And they were madly in love.

He woke up abruptly, sweating on his futon. Even more than usual.

"What the..." he muttered astonished. "Stop with this nonsense, Ralphie. Now", he ordered himself.

That dream was totally stupid, of course. But somehow it made appear a strange feeling of longing in Ralph's soul that didn't go away for a long time.

TRIVIA:

Bito Wladon, in DC comics, is the ruler of Modora and the villain Sonar. In The Elongated Man miniseries (1992) he's the main antagonist and in Justice League Europe issues #46 to #50 he even tries to steal Sue away from Ralph to make her his consort.

It is stated that Ralph and Sue Dibny characters are inspired in Nick and Nora Charles, from The Thin Man book (by Dashiell Hammett, 1934) and its subsequent film adaptations, starring William Powell and Myrna Loy.

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qtyanan · 6 years

Text

Gateway || KNK Chapter 1 - Drunken Encounter

“I’ll never go to one of those parties.”

Word count: ~2.5k

prologue | chapter 2

"Okay, we're done for the day, you have the rest of the class period to yourself," said my teacher as she waved her hand in a dismissive way. In that very second, everyone in the class pulled out their phone and a low buzz of conversation filled the room.

I pulled out my phone as well, but only for a moment to check for notifications (which i had none of course). I kept my notebook and textbook open, trying to finish as much work as possible so I didn't have to worry about it later.

It was the last class of the day, almost 3 o'clock in the afternoon on a Friday. Everyone around me had already packed their things and were talking about their weekend plans, or making such plans.

And then there was me, sitting in the back of the room with my head low and scribbling away with my pencil. I didn't really have friends in any of my classes, and I liked it that way, because let's be honest, I'm not much of a people person. I mostly just wanted to go home and drink a bottle of wine and binge watch Netflix. I was slightly praying that there wouldn't be a party tonight, because I really wanted to just go home and sleep a lot.

I had finished up the last of the page I was working on and packed my things into my computer bag. After all that, I sat on my phone, looking through different social medias to pass the last few minutes of the class period. Usually the teachers were pretty lenient about class times and would let us leave once they were done, but this old lady was pretty strict and wanted us to stay until exactly 3 o'clock.

I got bored of my phone so I put it down and just picked at my chipping nail polish, and without even thinking of it, I tuned into the conversation going on next to me.

"C'mon man, why won't you go?" A guy said in a slight begging tone, and I turned slightly to see that he was sitting on the table along with a couple other guys, and one guy was sitting in his respectable seat, his head in his hands.

"Ehh... I was planning on staying home tonight so," said the boy sitting in the chair, avoiding eye contact with everyone surrounding him.

"I've been to one of these parties before, they're pretty fun, and the booze is pretty great," another said, causing me to inwardly laugh. Who says booze anymore?

Are they talking about my neighbor's parties? I hope the fuck not. They don't need more people going to those parties!

"Dude, come on! You've been single for a while now. It's time to go out and get laid." One said, causing me to grimace. I thought it was disgusting, using him being single as a reason for him to go to the damn party.

There was silence among them, and I looked in the corner of my eye at the boy they were pestering. His hair was parted neatly down the middle and he had clear, tan skin, cute cheeks and pouty lips. He looked nice, sweet - too sweet to be dragged to one of those parties.

He leaned back in his chair and huffed, "Okay, fine, I'll come tonight," right away the guys cheered, patting on him in encouragement.

Ugh, tonight? I was hoping for a night of silence. I felt bad for the cute kid, but hey, what can I do?

With freezing cold hands and a runny nose, I unlocked my front door and stepped in, a wave of warmth hitting me, making me sigh in relief.

Kira was sitting on the couch with the TV on, but she got up once she heard the front door open.

"I got groceries, help me bring them in," I told her whilst putting my phone on the small table by the door and dropping my computer bag. She didn't say anything, just slipped on her slippers and braced herself for the cold.

We brought in the several bags and set them randomly in the kitchen, recovering from the unforgiving cold that was outside.

As we put away what I had bought in silence, I realized she was still wearing her work shirt. It was a plain, black, collared shirt with a small Starbucks logo. Kira doesn't go to college classes with me, she works full-time at Starbucks that's pretty close to campus. I do too, just part-time. I don't really have to work, I come from a pretty wealthy family and my parents are helping me pay for classes and such, but it's always nice to have some extra money, right?

I tried to figure what to make for dinner, but everything I suggested, Kira rejected.

"Chinese takeout?" I finally suggested, and she smiled at me, nodding slightly, causing me to chuckle.

I was putting away the last of the things, as well as organizing the pantry, and Kira sat on the counter and watched me.

"So," She suddenly broke the silence, "have you heard anything about a party next door?"

"Yeah, I heard some guys talking about it. I think there's gonna be one tonight," I kept my eyes on what I was doing, and she paused a moment before answering.

"... How about we go this time?" I turned to look at her to see if she was joking, but she had a smirk that told me she wasn't bluffing.

"Um, no. I hate those parties. I plan on never going over there." I bluntly rejected her, turning back to the pantry. I finished my organization and closed the door, then leaned against it and looked at Kira.

"Aw, why not? I don't want to just sit here all night, and I haven't done anything in so long." She was vague, but I knew what she meant - she wanted to get laid. I think it's kind of weird, but that's just me. I hadn't had an actual boyfriend in years. So basically, I'm as untouched as a virgin.

I kept my disgust to myself, because she would probably tease me for my innocence, "Then you can go by yourself."

"Oh God, no thanks," She scoffed, making a funny face then jumped off the counter, then looked down at her phone, "So, you want to order food now?"

No more than an hour later, we sat in our dimly lit living room, Chinese takeout boxes littering the coffee table in front of us along with Kira's soda can and my wine glass. I did say I was craving wine, right? Using wine glasses makes me feel fancy, shoot me.

It took us a while to agree on something to watch on Netflix, but eventually we chose to re watch New Girl for probably the third time.

We didn't say much to each other, just stuffed our faces with food and paid attention to what played on the tv, but then we started to notice the buzz of that horrible techno music. As if that was an alarm, Kira jumped up and picked up her takeout dishes and made her way to the kitchen

"Well, time to sleep," She announced, and I glared in her direction, even though the corner wall had cut her from my vision.

"Seriously??" I looked down at my phone to see the time, "It's not even 10 o'clock!"

"So? I'm tired," She said nonchalantly, thankfully cleaning up after herself. I didn't get up from where I sat, since I was in a little blanket nest with my knees pulled up to my chest.

"Jesus, how do you sleep so much! Teach me your ways!!" I yelled dramatically, causing her to roll her eyes and laugh lightly.

"Whatever. Goodnight," she made a little finger heart towards me and I did the same, muttering a 'ni ni' to her. Once she closed her bedroom door behind her, I reached for the controller and looked through Netflix once again. I chose what I really wanted to watch. I turned the volume down so Kira wouldn't hear the voices speaking in Japanese.

Yeah, I really love anime, but Kira hates it so I don't make her watch it. And she likes to make fun of me when I obsess over it, calls me a nerd.

I may have gotten a little carried away. I had re watched almost all of The Seven Deadly Sins, and drank almost a whole bottle of wine. Because of the small bit of alcohol, I began to get a little sleepy. I had begun to tune out the annoyance coming from next door, aside from the occasional yelling that sometimes startled me.

Are you still watch 'The Seven Deadly Sins?'

Yeah, jerk, I'm still watching it. I don't have a life. fight me.

I reached for the Xbox controller so I could resume the show, sitting in the quiet a moment whilst I waited for the controller to turn on.

But in that tiny bit of quiet, I heard something weird outside. Well, everything I heard was weird, because of that damn party, but what I had just heard was... weird. You know, a different weird. It stood out and I turned my head towards the door.

It was yelling of some kind, but it was closer than everything else, like someone was in front of my house. Usually most people were respectful and stayed away from my house, but this person wandered a little too far I guess.

But it was a lonely voice, I didn't hear anyone else.

I honestly got really curious as to who was out there and what was going on. So, I finished what was in my glass and left the warmth of my nest, shuffling towards the door and putting on my slippers. I pulled my sweater sleeves over my hands and opened the front door, and saw that there was a flurry of snow in the air.

There he was; in the middle of my yard, tripping around and yelling something I couldn't understand (I'm not even sure if it was in English). I couldn't tell who it was, but it's not like I know a lot of people around here.

"What the hell...?" I mumbled to myself, watching how he wandered alone. I noticed he didn't have a jacket; he just walked around in a white t-shirt and skinny jeans. Jesus, he's gonna freeze to death if he stays out there.

Maybe I should go help him...?

Without thinking it through, I stepped outside and through the grass, treading carefully towards him. In the middle of his weird, random shouting, I think I heard him say a girl's name, but I couldn't be sure.

"Um, h-hey?" I shouted to him to get his attention, and he slowly moved his eyes to me. he stopped walking, stumbled in his stance. "It's really cold, do you want to come inside?"

I couldn't really understand what he said in response, but as I came closer to him and touched his arm, he didn't fight against me, just leaned on my shoulder and allowed me to lead him to my house.

I realized he was much taller than me, and with him relying on me to walk, he was much heavier.

If it wasn't so cold, I would have been sweating. I kicked opened the door in a huff and dragged him to the couch, allowing him to drop onto the upholstery.

I turned the nearby lamp on, and realized - it's that kid from my class today! The one that those guys convinced to go to the party. I didn't know his name, but at least I didn't bring a total stranger into my home.

While looking at him, I noticed his ears and (cute little) nose were bright red, and he was now shivering, his teeth chattering. I rushed around and put a big blanket over him, which he quickly grabbed and cuddled into (which honestly, I found really fucking cute). I went to get a bucket and put plastic bag in it and set it on the floor by his head (because let's face it, throwing up is inevitable). His eyes were barely open and his hair was an absolute mess, little mumbled still falling from his lips. It was very obvious he was wasted, who let this poor child drink so much??

I sat by him to make sure he didn't die or something, and some of his little mumbles were slightly coherent.

"Sophie... Why did you leave me? <hic!> I loved you so much... Why wasn't <hic!> I good enough?... I miss you so much...." His voice was painful to hear, so full of sadness. His lip trembled as he spoke now, and I think I see a little wetness around his eyes.

I didn't really know what to do, but without much thought I scoot a little closer to him and brought my small hand to his cold forehead, soothing his hair away from his face.

As I did the soothing action, his mumbling became quieter, and tears just fell to the couch cushion. Slowly but surely, his skin started to warm up, and he started to stop shivering.

It felt like forever of me just sitting there, but I started to hear little snores and heavier breathing, which made me think he had fallen asleep.

Slowly I moved away, shuffling to the recliner on the other side of the living room.

My first thought was to stay awake until he wakes up, so he doesn't freak out on me. I could at least tell him what had happened and make sure he's okay then he can go home, and then I'll sleep all day.

But then I had the most intense yawn I've ever had. I looked at my phone, which was almost dead, and saw it was past 3 am.

After that, I don't really remember falling asleep, I slept like a rock.

#knk #knk imagines #knk scenarios #knk heejun #oh heejun #kim youjin #park seungjun #kim jihun #jung inseong #oh heejun scenarios #oh heejun imagines #kpop #kpop writing #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #gateway

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brittababbles · 7 years

Note

Have you ever done a soulmate au? If so could you do one for Frank Castle? Maybe the reader is a vigilante like Frank? 😊✨✨✨

Gun in the Face of Destiny – Frank Castle xreader.

Author’s Note: I hadn’t done a soulmate AUbefore. I actually had to look up what it was. Interesting concept. I’ll tryit.

Firefights were… well, you wouldn’t say theywere fun, but they certainly were a good alternative to a zumba class when itcame to getting your heart rate up.

Maybe laughing from behind the metal table youwere hiding behind wasn’t exactly subtle. Probably would have been wiser tokeep your mouth shut. You poked your head out from behind the table and tookvague aim at the two guys shooting at you. They had better guns than you. Youhad better luck than them. You heard the bullets ricochet and then a shout ofpain.

Gotcha, you thought.

You glanced back over your shoulder at theterrified kitchen staff huddled behind you. A total of five of them, not asingle word of English spoken between them. Your two semesters at NYU and onefailed Spanish class didn’t exactly prepare you for this situation.

But they made a damn good Ropa Vieja.

You were sort of hoping that the pair of 8mmswould’ve been sufficient tonight. The fact that you’d packed a backup .22 inyour back pocket was inconsequential – a .22 wasn’t going to take these idiotsout.

There was a deafening bang from the oppositeend of the galley kitchen that made everyone jump.

“Keep your head down!” a deep voice echoed.

Fair enough. You ducked back down behind yourupturned table and mimed “keep down” to your Cuban friends. Some things must’vebeen universal; they all nodded and managed to get lower to the floor.

Keep your head down. There was something vaguely familiar about that phrase.

Bullets flew overhead. Big ones. Whoever thisguy was had even better guns than your opponents. Sure, you’d think with yourconnections you’d be able to get your hands on better firepower than the twohandguns you’d toted along tonight. A skinny daughter of a local mob boss thatliked to go out looking for a fight ought to have better protection than ametal prep table and a pair of handguns.

But what was the fun in playing fair?

You shrugged at the cooks behind you. Theygawked back, apparently flabbergasted by your casual response to being shot at.

The fiasco at the other end of the kitchendidn’t last long. Whoever was taking out these dudes was a pro. When therepeated cracks of automatic weaponry came to an end, you popped your head backup to see what the damage was.

You hoped the Cuban cooks had hazmat suitsstored somewhere.

“Overkill much?” you called to the onlyremaining standing figure.

He was dressed head to toe in black, standingwith his back to you. From this angle you couldn’t identify the exact weapon hewas carrying, but it was big. Your stomach tightened, once again regretting openingyour big mouth as he turned slowly to look at you.

That’s when you saw the skull painted acrosshis chest. The Punisher. Shit.

Well, great. Panicking, you hid again, turningto the kitchen staff and waving your hands to get their attention.

“Get out! Get out!” you hissed, waving towardthe door frantically.

They seemed to get the message and, one at atime, began to crawl in the direction of the back door. When the heavy, bootedfootsteps behind you stopped, however, the five of them looked up, theirexpressions horrified.

You looked up, directly into his face.

“What’d you say?” he asked, his nose wrinklingslightly as he scowled down at you.

“I said, ‘overkill much?’” you answeredthoughtlessly.

His expression went from a scowl of annoyanceto a slightly disturbed frown, like those two words were bizarrely significant.You couldn’t imagine why. Nothing that ever came out of your smart mouth waswhat you’d consider significant.

“What’re you doing in here?” he finally said,his voice still tantalizingly wary.

“Um… trying to stop a robbery?” you saidhonestly, “Though you kind of took care of the stopping part for me.”

Hegawked at you for a moment longer, the offered you a hand. You took it,puzzled, and allowed him to pull you to your feet. On the way up you caughtsight of the mark across your wrist.

Keep your head down.

There it was, scrawled across your wrist inuntidy writing that’d you’d never anywhere beside that spot on your wrist. Youdidn’t remember ever not having it. Your mother had explained that it was thefirst words your soul mate would say to you. Hers had faded after she’d met youdad, but you’d still been able to read it when you were little. “Excuse me,miss. Is this yours?” You remembered it so clearly. You’d wondered all yourlife why your soul mate would open with “Keep your head down.”

This situation really wasn’t clearing that up.

He didn’t let your hand go when you were onyour feet, instead opting to awkwardly shake it.

“I’m Frank,” he said, still looking a bitstunned.

“[Your name],” you answered letting thehandshake carry on for far past the point of convention.

Apparently he realized how long this handshaking business was going on and released you hand hastily. You just stared athim, unable to think of anything to say. He tugged at his jacket, pulling upthe sleeve to reveal his right wrist.

Overkill much? You recognized your own loopy penmanship.

“Huh,” was all you could say.

Your staring at each other was interrupted byscrambling and Spanish babbling in the background. The cooks had stood,evidently under the impression that the violence had come to and end, anddiscovered the mess of human remains at the opposite end of the kitchen. Youcouldn’t understand a word of it, but their tone suggested that they were lessthan thrilled with the discovery.

“We’d probably get out of here,” you said toFrank, “Before the cops show up.

“Oh. Yeah,” he said, visibly shaking himself.

You grabbed your guns from the floor and thepair of you dashed out the backdoor just as the sound of sirens echoed from thefront of the building.

“You wanna hit the roof?” he offered.

“Yeah, I guess. My apartment isn’t far fromhere.”

The climb up a nearby fire escape was stilluncomfortable. He followed you as you leapt from roof to roof, surprisinglyquiet for his size. He wasn’t particularly talkative, which you appreciated,since you were trying to work through this startling development.

You’d only kind of believed the whole soul matething in the first place. You knew it happened, but some people never foundtheir matching person. And with such an oddly specific phrase across yourwrist, you’d assumed you’d be one of those people.

You hadn’t expected this.

You considered yourself a B-class vigilante.You didn’t have powers, didn’t have any particular special skills. You’dlearned to fight coming up in a mafia family, sure, but mostly you’d just beentrying to help out where you could. You’d been trying to make up for some ofthe horrible things your father and brothers did every day.

You’d been alone for a long time. There’d beenboys occasionally, particularly when you were younger, but few of them werecomfortable with the variable bloodshed that surrounded you. You’d sort ofgiven up on human companionship in favor of a good fight.

Reaching the roof of your apartment, you poppedopen one of the glass panels and climbed down onto a ladder that was proppedagainst the skylight. Once upon a time, your apartment had belonged to a verywealthy man with a very large obsession with exotic plants. The currentlandlord had converted the building into a series of rather quirky apartments.Since he owed your father more money than you cared to think about, you’dgotten the spacious former-greenhouse.

Your feet hit the floor of the loft and youlooked up to see Frank calmly following you down the ladder. You watched him,admiring the easy movement of his body.

The Punisher. Jesus Christ. You reflexivelyrubbed at the mark on your wrist.

Once he was all the way down, you took theladder in hand and use it to poke the open glass panel, causing it to snap backshut. You then paced to the wall and picked the light switch.

“Excuse the mess,” you said casually, headingfor the spiral staircase that led to the lower level.

The sound of the skylight closing had eliciteda loud bark from downstairs. The barking only increased in volume as you camedown the stairs.

“Hey, Peaches,” you said to the boxer mix asshe met you at the bottom of the stairs.

Peaches had been your exclusive companion sinceyou’d found her a year ago. She’d been a tiny, crying little creature thatsomeone had left in a trash can. She’d had her eyes closed still when you foundher. It’d taken several trips to the vet, more puppy milk replacer than you couldcalculate, and a rather shamefully taken loan from your father for the expensesto save her, but you’d do it all againfor the dog. Now a little over a year old, she was still a gangly puppy with abit more growing to do, but she was strong and sleek and considerably moreaffectionate than you thought you deserved. You were maybe a bit too lenientwith the “no jumping” rule, and let her stand on her hind legs to lick yourface. It was good to have someone that was happy you were home.

Frank was circling the spiral staircase as youand your dog had your nightly reunion. At the sight of the strange man,Peaches’ hair went up on the back of her neck. She gave a deep, warning growlas he approached.

“Easy, pup,” Frank said.

“Peaches!” you scolded.

The dog looked at you questioningly, and thensniffed Frank’s outstretched hand curiously. Apparently deciding that he hadn’tyet merited losing any fingers, she gave him a mistrustful look before trottingback to her food bowl in the kitchen. You followed her, flicking on the lightsof the lower level of your apartment.

“Like I said, excuse the mess,” you muttered.

What you were referring to were the paintings.At every vertical surface, and several of the horizontal ones, canvases ofvarying sizes and states of completeness were leaning, laying flat, or hanging.Your paints were scattered haphazardly across the floor. The cacophony of colorwas reflected back in the glass that made up the entire western wall of theapartment.

“Did you paint all of these?” Frank asked,taking in the sight.

“Most of them,” you called back, your headburied in a cupboard in the kitchen, searching for a can of dog food forPeaches.

“They’re amazing,” he muttered.

You looked over your shoulder to watch him forminute. He’d stopped in front of one of your closer-to-finished pieces.Variations on a theme by Van Gogh. The canvas was mostly back, with red andbrown swirls of paint. You’d been aiming for some kind of expression of what aparticularly nasty night on New York’s streets looked like, whilesimultaneously trying to filter it through what you’d imagined yourschizophrenic idol would have seen.

“They’re alright,” you commented.

You lapsed into a comfortable silence as youdished out Peaches’s dinner and Frank took a seat on the sofa, gazing around atthe paintings. After making sure her water bowl was full, you reached up intothe cupboard and pulled out a couple of k-cups.

“Coffee?” you asked, “Hope you don’t mindblack. I don’t keep cream in the place.”

Frank smirked at you.

“Smartest thing you’ve said all night,” hesaid.

You nodded and, once it was brewed, brought himthe first cup of coffee. You watched him carefully as he took a sip, his nosewrinkling slightly. He kept his eyes on you, tracking your movements as youbrewed a second cup for yourself, then cross the room and sank into the chairacross from him.

“So now what?” you asked, cupping your handsaround the mug of steaming liquid.

Frank shrugged, taking another sip from his ownmug.

“I don’t know. Are you actually expecting tobase a relationship off a few words carved into our wrists?”

“No,” you said quickly, staring down into yourcoffee.

You glanced up at him. He was really ratherhandsome, in a way you’d never considered. Not pretty at all, but there was acertain strength in his face. Strong features, not without scarring. His darkeyes were fixing you with an intense stare powerful enough to make even yousquirm. Usually being the focus of someone’s attention didn’t bother you. Butnot everyone was Frank Castle.

“Maybe,” you mumbled.

You heard him sigh.

“Sweetheart, you don’t deserve this,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Me,” he said simply, “You deserve someonewhole. Someone not so fucked up.”

You gazed at him blankly for a moment, then putyour coffee on the end table and stood up in front of him. You pulled the edgeof your shirt off, showing him the still-healing slice just above your lefthip. Then you turned to show him the scar across the right side of your neck,then the dappled burn scars that stretched from your right shoulder to your midback. There were more, in places you weren’t ready for him to see.

“Do you know why I do this? Why I go out everynight and let someone beat the shit out of me?”

“Because you want to help people?” he guessed.

You shook your head.

“Nah. I wish I was that selfless,” youcommented.

He frowned at you. You sighed.

“I’m doing this because when they land a punchon me, at least I’m feeling something. Look, soul mate you might be, but youneed to be at least a level four friend to unlock my tragic backstory. Let’sjust say I didn’t grow up in a situation where I was around of lot of…nurturingpeople. I guess I didn’t learn to feel things like a normal person. And now…”you sighed, “Pain is a feeling. I can’t even say it’s a feeling I like. It’sjust a feeling.”

Frank looked at you, his eyes a bit empty.

“So,” you finished, “I wouldn’t say anybodydeserves this either.”

He shook his head at you.

“There’s no way to talk you out of this, isthere?”

You flopped down into the couch next to him.

“Look, I’m not asking for forever. I’m justsaying,” you held up your wrist, showing him where the words marked your skin, “Maybewe should give this a chance. Maybe we should just see if this isn’t purelyrandom chance. Maybe it’s more than mathematics. How will we know if we don’ttry?”

“And if it doesn’t work out?”

You smirked, leaning over to reclaim your coffeecup.

“Then you seem just as likely to put a gun inthe face of destiny and pull the trigger. But I know I’m miserable and you don’tlook like you’ve been having the time of your life lately either.”

He looked at you skeptically, then raised hismug in what appeared to be a toast.

“To destiny?” he offered.

You smiled and clinked your ceramic mug to his.

“To destiny.”

#frank castle #frank castle imagine #frank castle x reader #soulmate au #swbwrites #request

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