#Nel is more complicated but love indeed is her thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gascon-en-exil · 1 year

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Idk man, it reminds me more of a kind of scenario where Kana and Morgan could S support all their potential siblings. regardless, i dont' care. I'd have to unlock their S support to complete the game anyway. but really if Intsys needs to come up with excuse even this complicated to make it clear to the audience that they should not suspend their disbelief into thinking that those characters are related (because fictional character don't exist so how the heck can they be literalt siblings) I am sure they themself know that they can't put actual incest without having problems. Heck, I married a 2nd gen in Awakening and even shipped the avatar with it, I shall be able to survive.

Oh dear, it seems that my inbox has exploded. That doesn't happen often. Lots of anon answers here.

You know that there will be people adding Alear/Nel and Alear/Rafal to their lists of pairings you're not allowed to ship, alongside all those I mentioned earlier as well as any Avatar/2nd gen, Azurrin, Dimigard, Byleth/their students, and all of the eyebrow-raising Pact Ring options in base Engage. I can't imagine being that uncomfortable with IS being as carelessly tasteless as they always are while still playing these games.

Kink ? Nay. It's just that Instys are cowards. they knew that some palyers would be disappointed to not be able to marry them, so they decided to over complicated things to make it sure that we understand that they are not siblings event though their are Sombron's kids. It's for the player's satisfaction. Just like how we could marry the Royals in Fates.

Incest kink is indeed a thing; do some searching on Pornhub or AO3 and you'll quickly find a wealth of examples. Some players will like having that out, like the whole thing with Byleth not S ranking their students until after they're no longer students just ignore that they keep calling them "professor". Some players will whole-heartedly embrace the incest.

I knew that the whole Nel/Alear Rafal/Alear was gonna sparks up between people saying it's incest vs those saying it's not. I personally don't view it as an incest relationship not only because I am buying Intsys's excuse since I have to suspend my disbelief into this, but because in their interactions, they don't act at all as such nor consider themselves to be related in any way. Heck in her supports with Veyle, Nel literaly friendzone her when Veyle ask her to be her sister. Moreover I am not into that kinks boat, I just like Alear x Rafal.

...And some will see the implication and condemn anyone who ships those pairings, even if they're not being read as incestuous. It's a no-win situation all around, although I could just say that that's in the nature of fandom to argue endlessly about these kinds of things. The best thing you can do is ignore the wankier voices and ship who you like, however you like them.

"even though I haven't seen any of Nel or Rafal's supports yet I'm confident in guessing that their Alear supports lean more in that direction than Alear/Veyle does." oh no. In their S support, Nel strays up says "I love you" and has a ring on her ring finger. Rafal is ring findered too while in Veyle CG she had the ring on her middle finger. It seems the localization did buy Instys's explanation... still think it could have been less weird to make Nel and Nil part of Sombron's species to explain why their are fell child.

"provided you want to read it that way". well I have unlocked their supports and Nel is being like "we are not family we do share an heritage" and the others try so hard to make it clear that they are not siblings i can't tell if it's just to appease the player's conscience or if it's part of worldbuilding. After all one could argue that relationship like Pygmalus dating Galatea is incest because he created that statue or something like this...

Yep, that tracks. Online shipping culture is all about finding any excuse you can to bash ships you don't like, so that's definitely going to be happening here.

Never mind the non incestuous explaniation and the ship wars. Will we ONE DAY know what on earth is going on with Sombron/Emblem 0 ?

My silly headcanon for that is that Sombron's missing Emblem is the player, and that when he's added to Heroes the dialogue will tease at him finding the summoner familiar. It would be delightfully meta.

How is Alear supposed to be Lumera's child in that universe ?? Like it make sense because of their hair being full blue and things having gone different but how is it even possible ?? Maybe I should not ask that because this whole alternate world is giving me even much more of a headache than the Awakening multiverse kids being the shepherds kids but at the same time, not their kids.

It's probably meant to be inferred from the solid blue hair. I'm not going to bother looking any deeper than that; FE dragon lore has never interested me much, and we already know that Engage is extremely on the nose when it comes to color symbolism.

Remember how we nearly escaped the whole "jean anna S support" while people were genuinely confused that 17 year old Alear could marry 45 year old Vander but not 16 year old Clanne ? They really had to bring Kaga's vision. Would'it not have been easier to just make the twins belong to the same species without having the ambiguity of them being an alternate Sombron children even if it's not Alear's father ? No ? to easy to simple ? make it more look like Morgan and all the 2nd gen ? ok

The specific ages thing seems mostly about being sensitive about censorship. It doesn't make much logical sense, but at least the ages don't appear anywhere in the game itself so I suppose you could ignore them if you like. I've never been an active Avatar shipper, so I wouldn't really know how that goes. The twins being Sombron's children was I guess done so as not to complicate the worldbuilding, with the Divine and Fell Dragons being essentially two family lines (also mage dragons exist on the side, but the story never does anything with that). See my above note on my disinterest in FE dragon lore.

I guess no one ever tried the argument "well technically those characters are not biologically related because they are ficitonal character that doesn't exist and therfore have no blood nor actual parentsand believing they are the same family is just part of suspension of disbelief just like when I use 2 doll; pretends they are siblings when i play with it and when I am done i totally rewirte their relationship" because it is way too realistic and is the simple true for any anti to ever acknowledge it. would spare the justification though

Pointing out that fictional characters aren't real never leads to anything, aside from sometimes the accusation that liking certain ships hurts real people. This came up in Three Houses wank on occasion, so it can apply to liking/disliking certain characters.

#Fire Emblem #FE17 #Fire Emblem Engage

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dustedmagazine · 5 years

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Dust Volume 5, Number 3

Photo by Rene Block, Courtesy of the John Cage Trust

In like a lion, that’s how we’ll do March at Dusted, which is to say in a gigantic leap, with blood and innards trailing from a toothy predator’s mouth. Well, that’s the hope, but actually, we’ll probably just listen to some music and write some reviews. Case in point: this edition’s Dust candidates, which include sci-fi techno, a blissed out dub version of “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” a Portuguese guitar duel, some churning stomach fluids and a percussive interpretation of koan-like John Cage. This time, the team was limited—just Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Jonathan Shaw and Peter Taber—but mostly enthusiastic. We hope you’ll find something to like, too.

CMD — Obscure Worlds (Several Reasons)

Obscure Worlds by CMD

On the face of it, CMD’s Obscure Worlds is a sci fi-themed techno album, which doesn’t do much to separate it from the broader genre. Scratch the surface, and you find an album of detailed techno vignettes that refuse to stand still. In less than three minutes, “Uneven Landing” layers crushed static onto knocking digital debris, with a rapid-fire kick added to the mix two minutes in. On “Obscure Manifestation” a foundation of pulsing static sets the stage for otherworldly peals of feedback. “Death of a Galaxy” reaches toward the undulating bass engineering of an Yves de Mey track. “Through the Wormhole” hints at industrial fuzz a la AnD while maintaining a bit more restraint, with a switch-up in the kick pattern four minutes in that isn’t exactly characteristic for techno. Given the density of musical ideas, many of the tracks could have been extended, but they last long enough to satisfy. If the album’s concept was intended to prompt a creative, concise set of techno variations, it did the trick. Obscure Worlds feels like getting a glimpse into a techno sound-design obsessive’s sketchbook, in the best possible way.

Peter Taber

Julien Desprez / Luís Lopes—Boa Tarde (Shhpuma)

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The title translates from Portuguese as Good Afternoon, and from the sound of this record it was. Both Julien Desprez and Luís Lopes are known for bringing the electricity to jazz ensembles, but when you put a couple of guitarists together it’s possible that they will connect around the instrument, not any particular genre. So it is here, but just what instrument are we talking about? The electric guitar? The amplifier? The pedals? Or all of the above? Let’s go with the latter, because this music is more about the interplay of timbres, textures, contours and sound waves than melodies, harmonies or beats. Imagine the jousting of train sounds issuing from converging valleys, the shudder of twin flexing suspension bridges or maybe just the shared sweet spots of a couple guys who probably wore out more than one CD player spinning Thurston Moore and Nels Cline’s Pillow Wand. Or don’t imagine at all, just listen to this artifact of one good afternoon in Lisbon.

Bill Meyer

Carol Genetti / Gwyneth Zeleny Anderson — Chyme (Suppedeneum)

Carol Genetti’s vocals operate beyond the boundaries of language. On Chyme, which is named after that gurgling stuff that sloshes around in your stomach after you eat, she electronically manipulates and juxtaposes sounds that humans have been making since before they thought up the first words. You might get disoriented trying to make sense of her pre-lingual exhalations and utterances, so visual artist Gwyneth Zeleny Anderson has prepared a listening score for each of the CD’s four tracks. Each score is a vibrantly colored, circuitously shaped paper cutout, the handling of which will put you (back?) in touch with the experience of pre-GPS, map-based navigation. Anderson’s combination of vibrant colors and text cues prod you out of passive listening and into a vocal / visual interaction with the sounds, which are by turns eerily beautiful and absolutely hackle raising. You will not encounter another record like Chyme.

Bill Meyer

Golden Daze—Simpatico (Autumn Tone)

Simpatico by Golden Daze

Hold up, you don’t need musical difficulty all of the time. No, there are hours and days and (occasionally) weeks when you don’t want propulsion or tension or contradictory impulses in your tunes. Life itself is full of that shit. You want something easy. You want something like Golden Daze’s Simpatico, an edgeless, frictionless, limpid pool of baroque pop, with soft whispery vocals and sumptuous clouds of guitar flurries and bright bars of electronic keyboards, unending prettiness, unconflicted lemon-y wistfulness. “Blue Bell,” the single, is like the Clientele with the bones picked out, an enveloping haze of pastel colored sound. There’s a bit of drumming in a song called “Drift,” but it only seems to heightened the disembodied floating-ness of the song’s breathy sway. “Simpatico,” at the end, emerges out of haze and fog, with warm, brushes of guitar and soft, dreaming verses, then slips out of sight. Golden Daze indeed.

Jennifer Kelly

Golia, Kaiser, Moses, Smith, Walter — Astral Plane Crash (Balance Point Acoustics)

BPA 18 Astral Plane Crash by Golia / Kaiser / Moses / Smith / Walter

p>Henry Kaiser, Damon Smith and Weasel Walter are Plane Crash, a guitar-bass-drums trio tough enough that it doesn’t have to act tough. The musicians’ common bonds are an appreciation for the atomized activity of vintage English free improvisation and a shared determination to communicate intensity through intent and focus, not bluster. Things get cosmic when you bring in West coast woodwind veteran Vinny Golia and drummer Ra Kalam Bob Moses, who played with Rahsaan Roland Kirk at an age when most kids are first trying to cadge their parents’ car keys. Moses and Golia had never played together, but they roomed in the 1960s, and their presence complicates Astral Plane Crash’s prevailing MO of quick micro-interaction in interesting ways. The flutes and saxophones run thick and slow under APC’s dust devil swirl. And Moses and Walter sound like their having a blast making like converging storm clouds, each pelting hail stones from a different direction so there’s no way you won’t get a chill down your neck. At two tracks and a hair under 80 minutes, this is all-in stuff, but when the changes come as quick and compelling as they do here that’s a feature, not a bug.

Bill Meyer

Matt Hannafin / John Cage—Four Realizations For Solo Percussion (Notice Recordings)

Four Realizations for Solo Percussion by John Cage & Matt Hannafin

In a life of ideas that spans 79 years, a guy might change his mind. John Cage famously expressed disregard for jazz, the most notable American manifestation of musical improvisation in the 20th century. But his problem was more with corrosive expressions of the self and human prejudice than it was with improvisation per se, thus his preference for chance operations. You can’t impose your personal bullshit when you submit to the random. Near the end of his life he dropped his opposition enough to write compositions that invited improvisation, which was distinct from chance operations. If that sounds like a convoluted process, consider the name of this tape’s first piece. “c Ȼomposed Improvisation for One-Sided Drums with or without Jangles” reads like a koan, which makes some sense given Cage’s engagement with Buddhist teachings. That’s just one of the four pieces that Oregonian percussionist Matt Hannafin recorded for this tape (or download, which is probably a more Buddhist format than a tape). In his hands, Cage’s music becomes a vehicle for feeling both the presence of a healthy blow and the unoccupied presence of the variably proportioned spaces where Hannafin isn’t hitting anything.

Bill Meyer

Gerrit Hatcher — Parables for the Tenor (Astral Spirits)

Parables For The Tenor by Gerrit Hatcher

One listener’s marvelously wigged-out sound is another’s torture. An audience member’s transformative listening experience might be in response to a sound producer’s moment of hollow display. You might hate a person’s most sincere expression or be deeply moved by something they do with their fingers and lungs while they try to remember where they left their bottle opener. Chicago-based tenor saxophonist Gerrit Hatcher had these existential quandaries in mind as he recorded the six solo tracks on this tape, and who’s to say if that’s why this music has such bite? Maybe it’s better to note that he makes sounds that feel linked to the work of certain Sun Ra associates and Archie Shepp into statements that don’t sound irrelevant at the tail end of the second decade of the 21st century. Hang with him while he blows and you might be changed, either because he’s ripping transformative shapes in the air or because that’s already where you’re taking yourself. Either way, what do you have to lose?

Bill Meyer

Hübsch Martel Zoubek — Otherwise (Insub)

Otherwise by Hübsch, Martel, Zoubek

There’s a world of improvised music that never crosses that precious Yankee border, and this is group is part of that world. Take one German tuba player, one Canadian viola da gamba player and another German on piano, throw in some pitch pipes and a synthesizer and what do you have? You have the raw material for a session of highly refined interaction. On the spectrum from process-oriented to outcome-oriented improvisation, these musicians tend more to the latter pole. The piano has been prepared to render gamelan-in-a-box sonorities, the tuba’s tones consistently gravitate towards ground-liquifying depths and the strings buzz in splintered contrast. The music unfolds patiently, never lapsing into clutter or confusion, and yet it never telegraphs the next move.

Bill Meyer

Jäh Division—Dub Will Tear Us Apart…Again (Ernest Jenning)

Dub Will Tear Us Apart...Again by Jäh Division

A jokey side hustle with an aughts all-star psychedelic pedigree, Jäh Division grooved hard, if obscurely, joining a love of dub, a reverence for Joy Division and a clutch of old keyboard gear. The line-up well exceeded solid with Brad Truax on booming, reverb drenched dub bass, Barry London manning a garage sales’ worth of vintage electronics (Roland RS-09, Realistic Concertmate MG-1, a Moog) and Kid Millions busting up organic and synthetic drums. This disc collects songs from a 2004 12-inch, plus bonus material including covers of Desmond Dekker’s “Fu Manchu” and Jackie Mittoo’s “Champion of the Arena.” These two are trippily wonderful, but the heart of this goofy fever dream is a nodding, pulsing, synth wreathed version of “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” It’s a jam that could go on for days or last only a second (technically it goes ong a bit over four minutes), as it distills post-punk and reggae and experimental art rock into an unending now.

Jennifer Kelly

Miscarriage — Imminent Horror (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Imminent Horror by Miscarriage

Much alike Stormy Daniels’ description of the Chief Executive’s fungoid phallic member, the world didn’t really need this tape from international doom metal crew Miscarriage (who hail from Sweden and the United States) — but now that Imminent Horror is here, it’s sort of hard to ignore. And once you’ve heard it, you’ll have a hard time removing it from your memory, much as you might like to. Lots of metal bands like to talk about how “disgusting” and “putrid” their music is. Miscarriage do more than talk. The noises they make sound and feel like a huge bubble of noxious gas painfully working its way through a diseased intestinal track. It’s slow. It’s gross. It doesn’t create any sort of pleasure. It’s only minimally more coherent than listening to the aforementioned Chief Executive attempt to speak in complete sentences. In all those ways, Miscarriage have made music for our times. Good luck to us all.

Jonathan Shaw

Shady Bug—Lemon Lime (Exploding in Sound)

Lemon Lime by Shady Bug

Shady Bug, out of St. Louis, makes a mathy pop so stretchy and bendable that you expect a bo-oi-oi-ing when its wandering melodies snap back into place. Under the guidance of classically trained Hannah Rainey, the band sets up intricate, jerry-rigged machinations that work by their own logic. Yet though complicated, these tunes have a vulnerable sweetness to them, mainly due to Raines’ hiccupy sincere delivery, which tips and lists as the wind blows. “Make It Up,” the single floods the sonic plane with power-washing blasts of amplified guitar, then cuts to a jittery next-to-nothing of angling, cross-cutting guitar lines. It’ll remind you of Pavement and, more recently, Speedy Ortiz, except in a fetching, kid-sibling-ish way that tugs at your sleeve and your heart.

Jennifer Kelly

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anightflower · 6 years

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A Compromise

Summary: The Widows, an organization of women that are trained to seduce, marry, then kill some of the most powerful and corrupt men of the century. Get in, get out, don’t be found. Things become more complicated for Y/N, the Nightingale when powerful mobster James Buchanan Barnes discovers the organization and hires them for his benefit.

Characters: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

So I am attempting to write a series!!! What a time. I will be using 1920′s slang to make more authentic. If you some slang you don’t know you can find it here:

http://mollsanddolls.blogspot.com/2007/10/1920s-slang-dictionary.html

Part One

The man sat at his mahogany desk, his face a mask of frustration as he glanced down at the crisp white paper before him.

A Compromise

May 19 1924

Base Territory Bid: Half of Broadway to Block 184.

BARNES,

IN REVERENCE TO YOUR VALUABLE TIME, I’LL JUST JUMP ON THIS ONE. YOU WANT MY BOYS TO LAY OFF YOUR SIDE OF TOWN? GIVE UP HALF OF BROADWAY TO 184. WE CAN SHAKE ON IT AND WASH OLD BLOOD OFF OUR HANDS PAL. START A NEW EMPIRE ON THE RIGHT FOOT.

REGARDS,

MELEGARI

The deal before him was shit and he knew it, hell it was barely a fucking deal at all. His glass of whiskey shook as he slammed his fist down. “Damnit!” he yelled, grabbing the crystal glass and hucking it at the wall. It shattered into a million pieces, glittering like stars as they fell to the ground.

The gleaming black rotary phone on his desk let out a shrill cry, snapping him out of his angry reverie. He growled as he ripped the phone off its cradle.. “What is it, Penny?”

“A spot of bright news boss! We found one,” his receptionist cherrily replied.

His heart sped up as a smug smile crawled across his face. “Then you know what to do, Doll.”

“I’ll ready the boys.”

“Atta’ girl, Pen. Blow em’ a kiss for me. And remind them that I don’t want a pretty hair on her head yanked or damaged; we need her on our side,” he reminded her.

“You got it, boss.” He could hear the smile in Penny’s voice as she hung up.

Good news indeed.

______________________________________________________________________________

She had always believed that human beings had an ancient instinct that tells them when they were being tracked or to followed.

Y/N? She knew she was being followed since Maywood Street. She could see her stalker now. He tried to look inconspicuous; his dirty blonde hair tucked away into a navy cap, that he pulled low to cover his eyes, but no, especially her, could be oblivious to that hideous pinstripe suit. She wanted to laugh. Hiding in plain sight my ass.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled the green collar of her peacoat up more. Nat was right; I should have just gone with black instead of green, She thought, irritated at herself. The thing was, she liked to be conspicuous out in a life of secrecy and lies.

She decided she would take a detour at the bakery and see if her stalker was truly after her or if it was all a “mysterious coincidence.” She snuck a peek at him from the corner of her eye as he pretended to look at some of the wares of the vendor next to the bakery. Resisting the urge to rip off her heel and huck it at him, she went inside.

“Ah Y/N, the usual?” Nellie called out to her. Nellie ran this bakery like a well-oiled machine, not to mention, she made some of the best strawberry danishes Y/N had ever tasted.

“You know me too well, Nel,” She beamed as she handed Nellie some cash. “I’ll take it to go today. Don’t forget-”

“The extra strawberry jam will be packed in there for you don’t you worry,” she replied, winking playfully.

“Nellie, you’re a doll,” Y/N praised, grabbing the bag from Nel’shand and making my her way back out into the street. Her eyes scanned the busy market street before her watching as people bustled two and fro like ants.

Ah, and there was Pinstripes, pretending to admire some tie samples outside of Calvin’s. And what do you know? The ones he was looking out stuck out just as much as that god awful suit.

Y/N kept scanning, looking for any exits to take to avoid him. Her key to leave was walking up the street: a large group of chatty girls lost in their shopping haze. As they passed in front of the bakery, Y/N hopped in with them. They hardly even noticed, all of them were too lost screaming about “Johnny’s new haircut” and “How was Marie’s date last night?” It was difficult for Y/N not to have her eyes roll into the back of her head. These girls were lost in a fucking fantasy life; she doubted they had to lift a finger for a thing.

She looked back at Pinstripes, whose head was swiveling around trying to find her. Y/N let out a joyful laugh, which quickly went away when his eyes met hers.

That’s when She took off, pushing the glimmer girls out of the way, ignoring their cries of “my shoes,” or “ouch my hair!” and sprinting down a random alley.

She heard Pinstripes yell something, most likely a profanity. She glanced over her shoulder again only to see him rushing after her.

“Shit, shit, shit,” She hissed under her breath, weaving through different pathways, people, ANYTHING that could make him lose me. There was no way she could go back to the Nest and risk her following her there.

Y/N slowed a bit when she realized she didn’t hear heavy footsteps behind her. Actually, she heard nothing?

She stopped, looking around the alleyway realizing she had lost her way. She didn’t recognize a damn thing. SHIT! It was too quiet here, she had to figure out how to get back to the Nest-

Y/N yelped as she felt two huge arms wrap around her waist. Her instincts kicked in and she slammed her head against the man holding her.

“FUCK!” He growled. His arms released her and she whipped around to face him in a bristling fighting stance.

“What in hell do you think you’re doing? Are you a copper?” Y/N hissed.

“Quite the opposite.” Pinstripes laughed, his hand cradling his nose. He looked up at her and smiled, Y/N had to admit, it was an stunning smile, it complimented his blue eyes.

“Miss Vogue, I have someone who wants to meet you,” he said gruffly. “I’d rather not have to do this the hard way.

“Plenty of men want to meet me Pinstripes. Give me one good reason why I should meet your man?” Y/N smirked.

“Because nobody says no to James Buchanan Barnes.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Y/N was forced into a lovely little black Rolls Royce. She was stiff as a board, her body’s fight or flight response on full alert. She eyed Steve, Pinstripes actual name, warily watching him through the rearview mirror. He had been a gentleman, however, he had opened and closed the door for Y/N, even going as far as to offering her champagne, which she quickly passed on. She needed a clear head to work my way through this situation.

How on earth did James Barnes find her? How on earth could she evade him?

The car ride had little chatter, the only noise being quiet jazz playing from the radio. A car with a radio - Barnes clearly liked to show off his money. Y/N swallowed hard at the thought.

______________________________________________________________________________

Her heart nearly stopped when the car pulled up to the mansion before her. I am in some deep shit, she thought to herself.

Steve opened the door for her, gesturing toward the front door and guiding Y/N into the mansion and down a series of hallways.

They stopped in front of an ornately-decorated door. Steve knocked once.

A deep voice from within called out. “Come in.”

He was facing the fireplace. His crisp navy suit glowed in the warm light.

Y/N took a deep breath and composed herself, pasting a natural smirk on her face.

“Now, a dame loves a good chase every once and a while Mr. Barnes, but that was a bit of a whirlwind even for me. Care to tell me why I am here?” Y/N asked

Steve gestured to the seat in front of Barne’s desk. Y/N gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. Steve just nodded toward the chair, his face saying, I would sit if I were you. Y/N rolled her eyes and sat down gracefully.

“You know who I am?” the man asked, turning to Y/N with surprise, his deep blue eyes inquisitive.

“I doubt there isn’t a person in New York who doesn’t know who you are,” she answered with a bright grin. Y/N knew she had to keep the charade up if she wanted to get out of here.

“Well, then, since we know each other let’s just skip the pleasantries, Miss Y/L/N. I believe you are familiar with a group called the Widows?” he stated simply as he sat across from her..

Y/N daintily crossed one leg over the other, her face crinkled in innocent confusion. ‘I can’t say I am, Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh, don't play coy with me, Doll.” He threw a thick file onto the desk. “Or should I say, Nightingale?”

Y/N shoulders tensed slightly, but she kept her face a mask of innocence. “As I said, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

He opened up the file. “You’ve been called by many names, had many hair styles and colors, yet those pretty eyes; always the same. And what a beautiful color they are in person.” He threw a few black and white photos on the desk. Y/N face staring back at her in each one. “Such pretty wedding dresses in each one. You have exquisite taste. What number husband are you on now?” He smiled like the cat that got the cream.

The soft look on Y/N’s face disappeared. “What are you looking for, Barnes? Is this a threat?”

He got up, grabbing two crystal glasses and a pewter filled with what Y/N could only assume is bourbon. “Drink?” he asked as he filled the two glasses. She glared at him coldly.

He sighed at her silence, placing the amber-filled glass before her. “It doesn’t have to be a threat. To put it simply, I have a job for you, Miss Y/L/N,” he proposed.

“Something tells me this isn’t optional. Then again from what I have heard, nothing is optional with you, Mr. Barnes,” Y/N quipped back, crossing her arms across her chest.

He leaned back in his chair and took a deep swig from his glass.. “I am glad you’ve done your research.”

“Anf what if I still said no? I am not afraid of you, Barnes; you’re not the only one with a few aces up your sleeve,” Y/N growled, starting to get up to leave.

“You may have a few jacks up your sleeve, but you have so much to lose, Nightingale,” Y/N paused at his words. His use of her code name digging into her.

“One misslip of the tongue, and you and your lovely lady widow friends can be caught in the act, which would be nothing short of a shame, considering how much I admire the wonderful work you have done.” Y/N turned back to him, her whole body tense with rage. Barnes’ shit-eating grin only grew wider.

He knew he had her on the ropes.

“What do you want, Barnes?” Y/N hissed through gritted teeth as she plopped herself back down into the overly-expensive brown leather chair with a huff.

He stood up placing both of his hands on the desk, each big rock on his finger reflecting the firelight. “For years, the Widows have been an invaluable organization going after unjust leaders, horrific mobsters, and anyone who does not meet their standards. You send one of your girls in, seduce, marry, then kill, conveniently covering it up with the husband never seeing it coming. You, Nightingale, are the most successful one of them all, with over 25 successful missions in five years. You’ve become a Widow prodigy, and I need you to do it again.”

He was met again with my silence.

He continued on. “His name is Charles ‘Charlie’ Melegari. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

A million images flashed before Y/N eyes: lavish parties, a dark smile, slicked back bronze hair. “We have met a few times. He has a decent piece of New York, doesn’t he?” Y/N picked at her nails casually, looking calm even though the idea of going into his territory made her heart stop.

“I suppose you could say that. You see, he’s been giving me and my boys some problems lately, and I would love to have these issues- well let’s just say- removed from my life. I have a business to run, and this man has been trying to fuck up my business and conquer my territory. I don’t have time for petty problems like those,” he drawled.

“And I’m supposed to take care of your little problem?” Y/N scoffed.

“Exactly.”

“You act as if I’ll do this out of charity, what’s in it for me?” She leaned forward placing her head on her hand, batting her long lashes up at him.

He laughed, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief. “Besides protection for your girls? I can give you whatever you want doll: money, protection-”

“How about a piece of your empire?” His smile disappeared at my words. “My ladies and I could use a little bit of this. We live a life of luxury, but murder can get tiresome,” Y/N sighed.

He stroked his chin, deciding. “That can be discussed.”

“Fine.” Y/N said promptly.

She got up again and headed towards the door. She paused, her back to him. “While when you’ve decided, you apparently know where to find me, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky smirked at her sass. “Until our next meeting, Nightingale,” he replied. As an afterthought he added, “Oh, and doll?”

Y/N turned her head towards him, eyebrows raised in question.

“Next time we meet, wear something that will make those pretty little eyes of yours pop,” he winked.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the comment and strutted out into the hallway, making sure to slam the door behind her.

A compromise then: Wear something pretty for him, then get what she wants.

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