#Black Sheep is a CODENAME after all

[moonybeasty]

Carmen Sandiego but she's a maned wolf

[holydreamvoid]

Blacksheep HC’s for the gang? 😁

YESSNSNBDBSBSN :3

Carmen Sandiego (Black Sheep) HC's

Out of all the people in the group, (Tigress, El Topo, Crackle, and Le Chèvre) I'd like to think that she helped them make their codenames though

When she found out El Topo and Le Chèvre were dating (most likely when she had an encounter with them when they tried capturing her), I think she was slightly shocked but then just shrugged it off like "Oh, You guys are dating? Congrats but that does not mean I'm letting you two get me back on that wretched island."

Canonically though, She was a great "model" in that one episode (forgot which season and ep) which makes me think that she might have had a few lessons back as a training V.I.L.E. Operative OR just watched Countess Cleo from afar.

Sheena (Tigress) and her canonically didn't have a good start but I'd like to believe that she was always up for "girl talks" with her (which is just them insulting some other V.I.L.E. operatives or planning to play pranks on the boys)

Antonio (El Topo) is probably the only V.I.L.E. Agent she doesn't exactly insult even after years have gone by, Her and Antonio were probably just chillaxed with each other and were pretty close. I firmly believe that Carmen DIDN'T apologise to him because she left but she made her understand why and he accepted it wholeheartedly since at the end of the show, we see him and Jean-Paul selling in a Taco truck meaning he and him might've already planned not long to change for the better<33

Graham and her are like two peas in a pod or like a bundle package back then, They would always be at each other's back when one of them got in trouble (Mostly it's her who gets in trouble and he feels pity for not having someone with her) Also, Him and her were definitely always talking in class that even most of the professors or the V.I.L.E. faculty found them inseparable from eachother even if they were so far off from their seats.

Mime Bomb and her aren't exactly the closest but I'd like to think he cheers her up sometimes by playing charades, as well as him playing charades with the others while they guessed what he was describing in their free period or lunchtime. He was a tad bit disappointed but he was probably much more loyal to V.I.L.E. now than her :((

Jean-Paul (Le Chèvre) absolutely did NOT like her at first but I believe he started to do so slower than how the others did with her, from "Shut it, Little Lambkins" to "Don't get in trouble, Black Sheep" type of slow. Sure, He didn't exactly accept her leaving all so sudden even with good reason but Antonio may or may not have convinced him to change as well with him. He was all in for pranks but he was probably the "What if we get caught? I am so not going to take the blame for you morons" on the group

MWUAH I love these little fruits sm you don't understand :3

[cs-oc-blank-random-posts]

FUN FACTS WITH BLANK

my CS-AU related stuff (CARMEN SAN DIEGO OC AU)

MORE ABOUT ME AND VILE ACADEMY (in my CS AU)

- i was 10 years old when i first started stealing, opening the gates to my long path to a life of crime 😋

Player: what.

- my first time driving a motorcycle was when i was 12

Carmen: Blank. WHAT

- Before Vile, i used to work with various groups for big heists and i rarely worked with the same person, i had a pretty big reputation for being one of the youngest thieves in the criminal underworld and my former Codename was "Chameleon" 🦎 😋 ✨

Zack: you were a famous thief?!

Shadow-san: Believe it or not, he's telling the truth. <- saw his interview with Maelstrom + was aware of Blank's reputation because he was recommended by another Seasoned Operative

Player: woah, he ain't lying! <- just searched about it on the dark web

- in some of my former Groups and Affiliations, i was taught how to use guns 😍

Ivy: that's concerning. you weren't even a teenager yet but they taught you how to shoot??

Blank: at first it was more difficult than i thought at first. but i'm a natural with a revolver

Carmen: why in the world would they even trust a kid with gun?

Blank: because i'm amazing, that's why

- my favorite color is Violet/Purple 💜

- because i've been through allot of different Groups, i got to meet allot of different people! i learned allot of skills that help me with thievery. such as: Gun Shooting, Knot tying, Basic self-defense, Disguising myself, making my own Gadgets and stuff like DIY smoke bombs 😋

Ivy: it's nice to have someone around who knows how to DIY stuff

Blank: well, Versatility never fails!

- My Vile Codename is different compared to my Former Codename because i kinda found "Chameleon" abit cringey for me. i couldn't think of any other code name. the Faculty noticed that i didn't have a codename yet and had a talk about it so they could help me out. They couldn't think of a good Codename that i liked until Countess Cleo said "well we can't leave his code name blank, can we?"

Shadow-san: you preferred "Blank" over "Chameleon" because you were no longer interested in your former Codename? Blank, it took an entire Faculty meeting to find you a code name and out of all of the better Code names to choose, you chose a word that was said by Countess Cleo in a sentence? that's what took you to finally pick a code name?

Blank: well, it beats having a basic codename like Shadow-san 🖕

- Fun fact about Vile, the reason why there are only a few well known operatives on the field like Tigress, Mimebomb, Paperstar, Etc. out of the 40 thieves that graduate Vile per year was because they were elected as Specialist Operatives. because they had Specific Talents. (they only say Operatives because saying "Specialist Operatives" is a mouthful) the rest of the graduates became cadets for Vile (the guys you usually see in helmets and uniform)

- I was a Cadet for Vile for a few months after i graduated even if i was originally supposed to be a Specialist Operative (because Vile couldn't trust a 14 year old for bigger Heists even if they're aware of my History in big heists) Shout out to Shadow-san who recommended me to become a Cadet instead of an Operative btw

Shadow-san: it was for your own good. we couldn't let a child running on the field.

Blank: hah, i guess that's why they officially made me a Specialist Operative a few months after, huh?

- The faculty had a Meeting about letting a 13 year old Study at Vile academy, having another advanced placement shortly after Black sheep. guess who was like "Bitch, Naur"? Coach Brunt and Shadow-san 😋

Carmen: honestly, it was concerning that two of the most Dangerous faculty members were at your throat the entire time we studied at Vile

Blank: I know, right? Biggest compliment i've ever received

Shadow-san:

- Just Like Carmen, i also had a Holdover year! thanks to Shadow-san..

Shadow-san: Black Sheep and Blank were the hardest to stall during the exam. <- this man was proud of himself for a reason

Carmen: well past is past. and eitherway, it was nice not being alone.

Blank: yeah, until you left a few months before the last semester. thanks for that.

[lilyissuswritings2]

Baba Chops In My Au!

(@onyxonline for their au which I made this offshoot of)

Name: Baba Chops

Codename: Black Sheep

Uniform Accent Color: Black

Symbol: Skull

Height: (undecided but she's in the middle of two extremes. She's like average height.)

Age: (again, haven't figured out age yet, but is kinda in the middle of all the others)

Eye color: Stone gray.

Role: Scout.

Weapon: Sickles.

Celestial Power: None. At least none known or active. But, unknown to the others at the time this picture was(which would be when they were still on missions but before her betrayal), her sickles are coated in a distilled form of the protoype's red smoke, specifically a strain to cause paralysis for a few hours. She also has a bit of immunity due to the tattoo marking(which you can see on her stomach as supposed to be the protoype's claw marks but she's covering it with makeup in the pic) and it makes her immune because of yet to be determined reasons. I'm trying okay?

Home planet: Baba grew up in many of the cult's different compounds, so she didn't have a home planet really. Though it was most likely she had been born on a planet that had been destroyed by the protoype's red smoke, where the cult decided to station a compound.

Upbringing: For being raised in a cult, it was.. somewhat healthy-ish. Aside from the obvious bad stuff, she actually grew up pretty happy and healthy, physically. Mentally is... Questionable. She was actually tutored by the protoype's second in command, The Doctor (who's name in this au escapes me even though I feel like he got mentioned?), since she showed immense potential. She was trained to infiltrate the Space Riders.

School Life: Was definitely a loner, most of the school didn't even know she went to school with them type of loner. Had no social life and didn't want any. She only occasionally hung around the nightmare critter crew(as this would've been when they also attended the space Rider school) in large group settings, but they weren't really friends. She got really good grades and was always on time. The counselor recommended she not be given a gun.

First Mission: she actually joined later than the others on the Nightmare Critters crew, but her first mission was very tense since the team had been well established at the time and she kinda threw them off. She did well on the mission, despite not listening to a single word he others said. The mission was a failure for reasons unknown to the others, but Baba absolutely knew why.

Last Mission(aka, the one she betrayed them on) Took fucking pride in taunting them, especially Simon. She was ruthless and savage in the attack, as was Yarnaby. But she enjoyed watching the betrayed looks on the others faces. She insulted and attacked their vulnerabilities. After Simon's attack that 'killed her'(at least it seemed that way to the Space Riders) Yarnaby had to drag her away to safety, despite her protests that she could fight more.

Orientations(did they go to any for the younger space riders?): nope. Not once. Stayed back to do maintenance on the ship. Would have rather stabbed herself than breathed the same air as those people.

Injuries(inflicted from the last Mission): Lots of burnt wool, bald spots, and burn marks. Most of her bald spots have been covered by yarn from Yarnaby, but she still is so salty about it. She also has a slight limp, but will deny it fiercely if asked.

Family: Unknown. As she was raised in a cult, she was taken from her mother at a very young age, and even then from her caretakers when the prototype took her under his wing. But she doesn't really care. She only ever wanted to know for medical reasons.

Solo Missions: Never went on them, since she always needed an alibi and honestly didn't wanna do rock, paper scissors, with another cultist to figure out which one of them had to lose.

Reputation: Had the worst reputation as she was blunt and harsh with everyone but her crew. She didn't care though, her goal was to cause discourse.

Feel free to ask me questions about her! ^w^

[veetyuh]

Another really strong relationship in the polycule, outside the complicated NornScotIre web, is probably EngSea. Especially from a historical perspective, good fucking god the amount that England is literally obsessed with a tiny fort is incomprehensible. Pretty much a Belarus-Russia situation, except Peter actually reciprocates.

The first and most obvious thing is power dynamics. Peter is 18, he's just reaching adulthood, he's super isolated with few social skills, facing his mortality as that 100 year expiration date ticks closer. He's ungodly old for a micronation (81!), too young for a "real" nation, and he's the UK brother everyone forgets. He's a black sheep. He's alone. And he's been fighting for his life since day one, left by his older brothers to fend for himself.

Arthur gave this kid his identical trauma. But because of what Peter is -- a fort made to protect Arthur at all costs -- he didn't develop npd or bpd like Arthur. He internalized it, and tied his self-worth to it. Arthur marooned him at sea for a decade. Well, it must be because Peter didn't fight hard enough! He should have killed more Nazis, maybe then Arthur would love him -- never mind that it was a horrible, unfortunate mistake that no action of his could have prevented.

And so Arthur's love and attention is directly tied to Peter's self-esteem. That's only reinforced by Peter's fort instincts; being made to serve and protect him, naturally, his brain is hard-wired to revolve around him. So when they do get together, it's mostly Peter fretting over him 24/7.

Their history of fighting is so fucking painful and it's 100% Arthur going full yandere mode. He thought Peter died after his sailors were withdrawn, and learning that he was not only alive, but stolen away from him and in the hands of a fucking lunatic? He had to "rescue" him at all costs. Bomb threats to scare them out, trying to steal it while Prince Roy was gone by sending a boat literally codenamed Big Brother, trying to starve them out by making Roy go through customs and ruining their supplies. One outright failed bombing attempt. Offers to buy it. Then trying to fight them in the court system and failing. A significant part of the British government was focused on the reacquisition of that fucking fort. I cannot stress the sheer amount of effort focused around a pair of concrete pants in the ocean. It's like Arthur was having a complete meltdown.

Of course, they're quite friendly now, so I interpret that as Arthur and Peter having reconciled. And with those two, they get super close at an unnaturally fast pace. Because?? They're the same.

But another thing that makes the bond so strong so quickly is that Peter is genuinely always on Arthur's side, in everything that matters. He can't help but be. So, even though Peter falls head over heels and enthusiastically consents, it's inherently dubcon; so much of his love and admiration comes from basic instinct to serve his country, and it's impossible to tell the ratio of instinct to earned love. But that also makes the relationship more stable in a fucked-up way, because Arthur knows he can trust him at a deep, base level. And to someone as unstable as Arthur, having that stability is very important.

Culturally, they're identical. Peter is English. So now, Arthur isn't an outlier as a Germanic in a family of Celts. And

Peter is taking Arthur's place as the youngest. Both have abandonment trauma, so they're co-dependent and need each other very close. Similar tastes, with playful bickering over the smallest of differences. Same sense of humor, so their quips are always well-received. Fuck, they even look alike.

And so he values the relationship so much that he gets more than a little unreasonable. Peter is practically half-German after many years of German immigration -- at one point about half of all Sealanders were German or Austrian. He has all these little habits he picked up, speaks the language, and looks up to Ludwig, the same man he was built to kill. Does that imply Peter can overcome his instincts to some extent? Does that mean he might betray Arthur? And Peter is awfully economically close to Spain, which stirs up old feelings about fighting over colonies. So Arthur gets possessive. Some of the old yandere tendencies between them come out. Except now, Peter isn't being kept from Arthur, but being kept from his friends. Anyone who might "steal" him. No, he is English property and Arthur will make damn sure he never leaves him. Isolating him by spending a ton of time with him, because Peter will always drop whatever he's doing or planning if only Arthur asks.

But it isn't all fucked-up angst. Arthur helps Peter overcome his lingering cptsd, helps him regulate his drinking, and overall improves his quality of life. Peter gets Arthur to open up and be a bit more authentic around himself and others -- albeit, by hyping him up and stroking his ego, which Arthur is prone to seeking because of the npd. Outwardly, they both seem so good, they're smiling more and work so well together, that it's hard for outsiders to see the more unhealthy dynamics that are kind of the foundation of the relationship.

With sexual dynamics the sky is the limit, simply because Peter will do whatever Arthur wants. Submissive, dominant? Service top? Power bottom? Peter is certainly more skilled in some areas than others, but he will break himself to fit into whatever mold Arthur casts for him. Whatever Arthur wishes, he will receive.

Overall the dual healthiness and unhealthiness of the relationship just fascinates me. And the sheer level of co-dependence puts them firmly in the do not separate category, along with WalesEng and NornScot.

[preciouslandmermaid]

cold heart, warm hands (simon “ghost” riley x f!reader) - part 1/2 

First off, I haven’t played a Call of Duty game in years. But, I remember crushing on Ghost back in idk?? 2010? Anyway, glad to see he’s getting the white boy of the month treatment. Glad we’re all totally NORMAL about him. Feedback is definitely encouraged and appreciated :) 

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader!Assassin  

Rating: Mature/Explicit (18+)

Fic warnings: angst, injury/bodily harm to reader + some hypothermia, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing/explicit language, knives as metaphors for sexual tension, reader is lowkey feral (I am channeling my inner Princess Monoke), slowburn, the inherent eroticism of catching feelings while running for your life, touchstarved!ghost, bonding, (there will be smut/porn in part 2) i needed a light plot because I cannot function without it, all the names of politicians are fake/do not relate to any living or deceased person.

No use of Y/N. Reader is described as muscular/toned with scars from active combat/torture, though no other descriptors are used. Author isn’t well-versed in other languages, they’re just a sucker for Slavic mythology. Reader’s undercover code-name is “volchitsa” which translates to she-wolf (or bitch-wolf) in Russian. 

Summary: Lt. Ghost is tasked with the extreme mission to extract code name “volchista” from her undercover mission in St. Petersburg. They briefed him on what little they knew of you, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the reality. 

READ ON AO3 || 🔪🔪🔪

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is how it begins. You are a girl made of snow. You carve a pretty smile from the ice. You flatter the diplomats. You trick them. They believe you can be melted and molded. You impress the headmistress of the school. You trick her, too. A man from America comes. They replace your ballet with ballistics. You suspect they offer money to your family, your school. They roll your tongue until you can call upon any accent and shape around any language. When you’ve impressed them or pleased them, they give you tasks, and you carry them out with little question of who at the top of the pyramid pulls the strings. You are better with bullets than you ever were at ballet. 

You thaw, in pieces, until the girl from the snow is a shadow, a puddle, a glistening drip of an icicle from the rooftop. They give you a name. A point of contact. A promise of extraction once intel is gathered. You don’t merely go “undercover.” You go underground. You enmesh yourself. They call you a wolf and release you among the pretty, bronze-polished sheep. After all, this is what your training was for. 

Only now it’s finally time to go home. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Three years undercover?” Ghost says, reviewing your file, “you sure we can trust her?” He glances at your old photo. Pretty thing. He suspects that’s why they assigned you to rub elbows with high-ranking military officials and defense contractors. Three years is a hell of a long time to be someone else. 

Price says, “I know you’ll make the right call if you think she’s compromised.”

“Naturally.” Ghost replies gruffly. He checks the intel for your rendezvous spot. A cemetery at the edge of the Vyborgsky District. At the stroke of midnight. How morosely dramatic. He’ll be a ghost in a graveyard. Is this Price’s attempt at humor? He considers asking Price why he’s not sending someone else out. Someone who shows their face in case some nosy do-gooder comes up asking questions. He shakes the thought from his head. It’s a stupid question that he already has the answer to. 

Price selected him because the target, codename volchista, is one of the most dangerous operatives in the country. If anyone can take you down–if things get nasty–it’s him. 

“You’ll be going in dark on this one until you reach the border,” says Price.

“Not a problem.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s gray everywhere you look. Storm clouds loom over St. Petersburg and block the starlight. Gray and dark gray tombstones. The barren trees appear like black skeletons in the night, like echoes of lightning. Your breath mists gray in front of your lips. A family of gray moths dance around the ground-level lamps. The air tastes like impending snowfall, brisk and sharp on your tongue. 

You check your watch. Three minutes until midnight. There is no one here but you. You are alone, with the gray ghosts, and the gray tombstones, and your gray, foggy breath. 

The hair at the nape of your neck prickles. 

Your knife flashes silver in the gray. Your blood roars in your ears. And you pivot like a dancer, like an acrobat, lethal and light on your feet. The resounding clang of your knife meeting another reverberates through the silent, empty cemetery. You lurch your body forward. You assume your cover is blown and they’ve sent this masked man to kill you. He matches your momentum and avoids your strike. You snarl. He is big but not as clumsy as you hoped. 

A gloved, strong hand grabs your wrist, “steady on, volchista.” Their accent deepens their voice to a rough and pleasant burr. It’s like drinking whiskey. You stare at him. Only your contacts know your code name.

You say, “Lev sent you.” You pause. “You’re early.”

“If I'd known you’d try to skewer me, I’d have been punctual.” He slowly releases your wrist, though what little you can see of his gaze is dark and wary. Lev told you nothing beyond the meeting spot and where he stashed your equipment. It was safer (or so he said). He could’ve at least mentioned your point of contact would be wearing a costume so you wouldn’t assume it was an assassination attempt. Your eyes scan the graveyard, unable to shake the sense of paranoia that slithers around your spine. Whenever something felt too easy, you got anxious.  

“Sorry.” You respond without expression. “Let’s go.”

You’ve walked these pathways hundreds of times. You know them in the dark, you would know them blindfolded. None of Petrovich’s men bothered you when you went to the cemetery. Though, they were never far. You incline your head faintly toward the familiar tombstones, to the names you’ve memorized as a game to keep yourself sane during these past three years of espionage.

You shoot a glance over your shoulder. Skull-man is walking eerily quietly behind you despite the bulk of body armor you can tell he’s wearing beneath his white, camo coat. His hood is drawn up over his head. Probably to hide the mask. 

“What do I call you?” You ask once you’re close to the church.

“Ghost.”

You laugh softly. Although you will never see Lev again, you wish you could. You wanted to praise him for such a stupid, funny joke - setting up your extraction in a cemetery with a man named Ghost. You come to the church door where Lev has stashed your supplies. He’s left the key for you beneath a snow-capped rock. You kiss its cold, metal teeth in farewell before sliding it into the lock. The old, oak door creaks beneath your palm. 

Ghost watches your back, checking behind you before you both go inside. The air smells of incense and candle smoke. The effigies on the altar glow with ethereal, flickering light. You crouch onto the ground and start tapping your knuckles to find the hollow floorboard. Lev said it would be about ten paces from the entrance. 

Rap, rap, rap, rap. A flurry of snowflakes drifts across the mosaic, stained glass windows. You knew you tasted snow in the air. You idly wonder if the snow will feel different once you’re home again. You wonder if everything will be different considering the intel you gathered about Petrovich and all his followers. 

Ghost asks, “why’d they give you the name she-wolf?”

Your smile is a knife. 

You say while looking up at him; “I used to bite a lot during my training.”

Your knuckles find their treasured spot. You jam your knife into the edge of the floorboard, wiggling it, and it gives underneath your pressure. You tug on the backpack, holster your pistol and knife and hide your face in a scarf. You pull the rest of Ghosts' equipment out with a small gruff. The keys to the snowmobile parked in the shed outside bite into the soft flesh of your palm. You and Ghost will ride to the next point. And God willing, you’d make it over the border before anyone noticed you were gone. 

Ghost, silent beside you, stiffens.

“Shit.” You hiss. You duck sideways, throwing yourself into the space between the worship pews. Ghost crouches into the one next to yours. The door to the church swings open. There is a burst of cold air and snowflakes and bright, roaming flashlights. With your back pressed against the hardwood and knife in hand, you glance across the aisle to Ghost and wait for his lead. 

He signals the number three with his fingers. You nod. You track the lights as they move through the church, elongating shadows, and bouncing from the pews and pillars. Two have moved to the side of the church. A single target is walking down the main aisle. They’re trying to pincher you. Could it be Petrovich? Or were you betrayed internally? Or were they police officers? You hadn’t gotten a good look before hiding. Ghost’s entire body is taught like a loaded weapon. You feel it in your own spine and shoulders. The familiar, tense coiling. The single and narrow simplicity of setting a task and then completing it. You are going home. And nothing and no one will stop you. 

A voice calls out in Russian. “Petrovich is looking for you. It’s too late for prayer. It’s time to come home.” It sounds close to the doorway. You roll onto your stomach and signal to Ghost: ‘Enemy’. Perhaps it’s presumptuous to assume he doesn’t know Russian after being assigned to a Russian-Evac Mission. You make a mental note to ask him what he knows (if you both survive). He tells you to ambush right, then signals the go-ahead. 

You wiggle beneath the pews, getting behind your target, and crouch-walk toward him. You stay low and silent. From this vantage point, you can see they’re Petrovich’s bodyguards. They aren’t wearing tactical gear or body armor. They’ve got flashlights and pistols holstered at their hips. They aren’t expecting any sort of fight. You almost feel bad for them. Almost. 

You are a deadly viper hidden in the grass, a wolf stalking her prey, an arrow finding its mark. Your knuckles tighten around the grip of your knife. The church is dark, save for the flickering candlelight, and the blue-white shine of their flashlights. You slam your boot into the back of your target’s knee, causing him to crumple. He grunts, in surprise and pain, and that is the last sound he creates because your knife lodges into his carotid artery. A warm gush of blood covers your glove, and it arcs upward, splattering and spraying onto the fine stonework when you dislodge the weapon. You kick the rolling flashlight aside and run on quick, crouched feet toward the door. You don’t even bother to check if Ghost is alright. You assume he is. If not…well…you’ll claw your way out of Russia yourself. There is no returning to this place. 

The man at the doorway is panicking. He wildly waves his flashlight around the church while holding his cellphone to his ear. You snatch his wrist in a bruising grip and drag him toward you. He shouts. Your forehead smashes into his nose. His cellphone clatters to the ground. Your knife finds purchase through the thick fabric of his turtleneck. The gray sweater blooms deep, dark crimson–nearly black in the low light. He moans, you shove him aside and pick up his phone. He’s calling Petrovich, but the line hasn’t connected yet.

Ghost is suddenly before you. You meet his eyes. There’s a splatter of blood on his white camo hood. Your chest heaves with exertion, and the adrenaline of combat floods your senses until you are woven within it. If you don’t shake off Petrovich, then your extraction becomes thousand times more difficult. 

You grab the bodyguard by the root of his hair, jerking his head back, and snarl into his face. “Tell Petrovich you’ve found me. Tell him I’m coming home.” You say in Russian.

“Traitor.” He spits blood at you. You haven’t removed your knife from the juncture of his shoulder and neck. You twist the blade a little. He grits his jaw from screaming. Prideful to the end. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the dark, hulking shape of Ghost with his knife in his hand. 

“Last chance.” You warn. “I will feed you to the wolves.”

“I am dead either way.” His eyes flick to Ghost behind you. “He will kill you.”

You are uncertain if he is talking about Ghost, Petrovich, or someone else. You don’t care to ask. You click the bright red ‘end’ button on the call screen before it connects. Wordlessly, coldly, you yank your knife from his shoulder and spear him below his jaw. A torrent of blood gushes over his sweater, and your wrist and hand, and onto the shiny wood. He slumps, on his knees like a man in prayer, and you shut your eyes briefly. You take no pleasure in the killing. It was either them or you. Wolf versus sheep. It was survival. A singular question tightened around your neck like a noose. Who betrayed you?

Ghosts’ voice is low from somewhere over your shoulder. “What’d he say?” 

“That I’m a dead woman.”

He shrugs his massive, bulky shoulders. You can’t ascertain how much of it is him and how much is his gear. 

You sheath your knife. “Petrovich will come looking for me.” You nudge the fallen bodyguard with your boot. “No use hiding them. We need to leave. Now.”

He extends his hand, “keys.”

“Who said you were driving?” You scoff.

“I’m the one taking point.” He says. “You’re the escort. I drive.”

You drop the keys into his waiting palm. You simply don’t have the time to argue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You get an impression of his true size when you’re perched behind him on the snowmobile. Your arms encircle him (as best you can), your cheek is pressed against his broad and muscled back, and the cold wind cuts through your scarf and bites your ears and nose. It’s dangerous to drive in the dark, but you have no choice. No alternative. You must take a risk with the dark forest full of birch trees and lonely pines to avoid the checkpoints at the borders. 

Ghost is, at the very least, efficient. Your stomach swoops each time the snowmobile crests over a small hill and the vibration of the motor purrs beneath your legs. The world is a blur of grayish-white. Snowflakes and branches whip past your field of vision. You force your eyes to remain open, as snowflakes crystalize on your eyelashes, and try to keep watch of your surroundings. 

You release a soft “oof,” when the snowmobile jolts over a hill and freshly fallen snow crashes over you and Ghost like a wave. The trees start to thin. Your fingers tingle inside your gloves from your lack of circulation due to how tightly you're holding onto him and the overall icy chill in the air. You suspect you’re about an hour from the second point. Possibly less, you hope, with how fast Ghost is driving. 

A whirring sound, like a beast waking from its slumber, rises above the rushing wind. You twist your spine to look behind you.

You yell above the engine and the wind, “fuck me.” Above the treetops, a helicopter is risking the storm, its searchlight roaming through the forest. Only one man is hunting you. Only one man is desperate enough to send a helicopter in the middle of the night with little visibility.

“Ghost! We’ve got company.” You shout.

“That was quick.”

The snowmobile banks with a hard left turn. You bury your face in his shoulder blades to protect yourself from the sharp wind. You recall the map Lev showed you. You memorized the route to the second point. Something tugged at the corner of your mind. The helicopter’s searchlight scanned the thick, snowy landscape. It will catch up to you soon. Ghost weaves through the trees, but they provide  little cover. 

It’s dark. It’s snowing. The helicopter is faster than you. These are the facts.

If you stop, you risk Petrivoch’s men finding you. He sent a helicopter; you have no doubt in your mind that he also sent out snowmobiles and ATVs. The darkness is your best cover. 

If you continue, you risk Petrivoch’s men finding the safe house. The only silver lining is that Petrovich doesn’t know who you work for. He doesn’t know you have help. He might assume you’ve been kidnapped. But, what if Petrovich thought you were dead? He wouldn’t chase after a dead woman. 

You say, “Ghost, I have an idea. But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

He grunts.

“We need to crash the snowmobile.”

“You’re mad.” Is it the wind filling your ears, or does he sound a little…impressed? 

You squeeze your fingers around your wrist when Ghost takes another sharp turn. You suspect he’s double-backing and confusing your trail while avoiding the oncoming helicopter. 

“My other plan involved a sniper rifle and blowing out the searchlight. However, seeing as we don’t have a sniper, I’m going to plan B.”

“Crashing our only means of transportation sounds more like Plan-fucking-Z to me.”

“You have a better idea?!” You snap.

You continue, impassioned, “the storm will cover our tracks. We can walk the rest of the way. Petrivoch’s men won’t follow us if they think I’m dead.”

He mutters something under his breath. It’s too quiet for you to hear. 

“Find a good place to stop with tree coverage and I’ll do the rest.”

“Jesus.” He grumbles. 

You wait for the inevitable argument. The discussion about how the snowmobile could outrun the helicopter and whoever else might be pursuing you. You brace yourself, drawing counterarguments inside your head, preparing yourself as you have your whole life. The pine trees thicken, and the snowmobile gradually slows. His back is tense. You wiggle your tingly fingers inside your gloves. You slide your arms away from his solid, firm midsection and scoot to the edge of the seat when the snowmobile finally stops. 

Ghost twists around, looking at you, his eyes fathomless beneath the mask.

“Your plan. What is it?”

You tell him. It involves tipping over (or crashing) the snowmobile, lighting it on fire, ripping pieces of your clothing and burning other remnants to imply that whatever was left was eaten by wildlife.

You peel off your bloodied gloves, “it’s not a perfect plan.”

“It’s bloody insane is what it is.”

You shrug, “and yet you agreed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the picture of mental stability, now am I?” He tears one of your shirts between his hands. You work quickly and silently in tandem. The helicopter is searching the less forested areas. It’s loud enough to hear, though you can’t see it or its spotlight through the thick evergreens. You tie together several pieces of fabric and shove them into the gas tank. After it detonates, although the helicopter won’t be able to land nearby, Petrivoch’s men will likely find the remains before dawn. 

You reach under your shirt, toward your collar, and your fingers encircle the charm on your necklace. You tug. The thin golden chain snaps. It was your first gift from Petrovich. A symbol of your loyalty - false as it was. You hold it aloft and the tiny eagle charm glitters above the flickering flame of your lighter.

“I hope I am there the day they burn you.” You whisper with the trees, and the cold snow, and your silent Ghostly companion as your witness. You drop the broken necklace. You light the edge of the fabric. The smoke singes your nostrils and your eyes water. You run toward the trees and don’t look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Ghost put as much distance between yourself and the snowmobile before its explosion. Your muscles strain, your skin glistens with sweat, and you are hot and stuffy beneath your warm clothes. The pace he sets is brutal. You push yourself to keep up, never complaining, though your mouth tastes of copper from how many times you’ve bitten your lower lip. The storm rages and covers your tracks. 

“The storm’s getting worse.” You say. You’ve never endured in silence for this long before. Not since your youth, you think. The howling wind cuts between you and him, dragging snowflakes in their wake. 

Ghost barely glances at you. “Hadn’t noticed.” 

If you squint, he blends into the world. A white-and-gray Grim Reaper here to collect your soul.

“Were you going to kill me in the church?” You ask. You remember how he approached you and the bodyguard. His cold lethality. The silence that shrouds him. His eyes were dark, too far to discern what emotion lay within. He doesn’t answer, but he does look over at you. You are mirrors of another. His face is covered by his strange, macabre mask. Your face is covered, in a heavy scarf, your eyes visible through the slit in the fabric. You speak through your eyes. Nonverbal. Expressive. Weighted.  

You tilt your head slightly to the side as if to say ‘well?’ 

You wonder if he smiles beneath the mask. You wonder if he smiles at all. He turns away and checks his compass. For several minutes only your crunching footsteps and the wind screaming through the branches keeps you company. You don’t think Ghost (and by proxy the US government has betrayed you) but you aren't certain. Not until you have some type of proof or motive. The only people who knew about your meeting location were Lev, yourself, and Ghost. You know you didn’t slip up. And you’ve been in this field for too long to chalk Petrivoch’s appearance to coincidence and dumb luck. Someone is compromised. 

You glance sidelong at Ghost through your snow-covered lashes. He’s big, he’s strong and efficient. You’re not a person who doubts their abilities and you’re not an idiot. You know a losing fight when you see one. In close-quarter combat, his reach is longer, and if he pins you then it’s over. If you plan to incapacitate him–it’ll need to be an ambush. It’ll need to be quick. You store the thought away for later. You’re not going to ambush him in the storm.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The snowstorm starts to ease, and he’s forced to admit that your plan to torch the snowmobile might’ve saved them. There’s a chance that the weather made it impossible for the helicopter to keep pursuing. However, he won’t know until sunrise. Either he’ll have Petrivoch’s men on his ass or it’ll be smooth from the safe house to the border. He prepares himself for the worst. Petrovich isn’t a man who gives up easily. Price’s file on him was stacked. Although most of the intel you gathered undercover was on a need-to-know basis, he knew the man was powerful, controlling, and deranged. A dangerous cocktail. It gives him all the more reason to wonder if you’ve been broken and brainwashed by Petrovich. But the thought holds little water. Your behavior has been motivated by survival. You handled yourself with extreme grace and brutality in the church. Price said you were good. He didn’t realize you were that good. The takedown of your target was effortless and clean. A thing of beauty, really. You function well under pressure. And you smile often for a woman trained to be a covert assassin. You’re nothing like he expected. 

He announces, “we’ll take a break here.”

He watches you drink from your canteen. Your face glistens with sweat before you wrap yourself back up in your scarf and hat. You pack your canteen with snow and store it away, but he notices your hand flinch near your knife, the brief tenseness of your shoulders. He scans the darkness for threats. He meets your eyes with an unspoken question. 

Your breath fogs in front of your mouth, hazy, obscuring your gaze from his for a moment. When the mist passes, your eyes are cold and narrowed, and you look like you want to skin him alive.

“I didn’t give Lev everything.”

His brow furrows, “what’re you telling me for? I’m not your superior officer.”

Your gaze softens imperceptibly. 

“Someone ought to know in case Petrovich is still hunting me.”

“You don’t need to bargain your worth to me, she-wolf.” He says plainly. “I’ve got my orders.” He’s not sure what game you’re playing. And he doesn’t rightly care. Once you’re across the border, you’re someone else’s problem. Whatever intel you have, or don’t have, it doesn’t concern him. His only concern is making it out of this tundra with you alive. You adjust the straps on your backpack and nod, signaling with your hand that you’re ready to move.

The blue-black sky lightens, and stars fade from view. Tiny, blackbirds flit through the air. The terrain flattens. He recognizes this location from the map. The safe house is over the hill. It was a less straightforward route than if he had the snowmobile, but at least you’ve made it. He keeps checking your six–part of his job–and scanning the open sky for threats. The snow crunches underfoot.

He says, “we’re almost there. Come on.”  He jogs ahead. 

Something cracks under his foot. He spins, looking for you, and discovers you’re a few paces behind. Your arms and legs are spread akimbo and when you meet his eyes, there is controlled panic, and he can practically hear the gears turning within your mind.

“We’re on the lake.” You exclaim like it’s a brilliant revelation. “I remember seeing it on the map!” 

The storm must’ve covered it. Fucking hell!  

“There’s a USB in here.” You strip your backpack from your body and slide it easily across the hidden ice. “It’s more important than I am.”

Another crack reverberates beneath him. He’s hyper-aware of his size and the dangerous risk of getting wet at this temperature.

“What’re you doing?” He beckons with his hand while lowering his body, “this way!”

“Yeah, yeah, working on it.” You take a tentative step forward. Despite the logical distance, it feels like a chasm has split you from him. 

“You need to get low.” He’s on his stomach on the ice and the next crack vibrates beneath his gut. “Spread out your weight.”

You nod. You start to crouch, but lady luck isn’t on your side. The ice ruptures. The crash, your yelp of alarm, and the splash of cold water are like a pike driving through his eardrums. He army-crawls toward your flailing arms. Your gloves scramble for purchase on the flat, slick ice as your head disappears underwater. Ghost unintentionally shouts your name. 

He grabs you, pulling you up. You sputter and gasp, water saturating your scarf that’s peeled partially away from your face, and revealing your wild, stricken eyes. 

“I’ve got ya.” He says, “I’ve got you.”

You cling to him and kick your legs underwater while he lifts you out of the ice trap. Your shivering body crawls across the ice alongside him, though he tracks your sluggish movements and rapid breath. He needs to get you to shelter immediately. The second you’re clear of the lake, he crowds you into his arms and lifts you in a fireman's carry.

You protest weakly through chattering teeth, “I can walk.”

“This is faster.”

He trudges up the short, small hill while carrying you and both backpacks. The sight of the safe house is like fucking salvation. It’s a squat, modest little wooden cabin. He can spot a chimney sticking up from the roof. If it doesn’t have wood, then he’ll start burning furniture. He needs to get you warm before you drop into severe hypothermia. The cold wind cuts across the air like a cruel cosmic joke. Draped across his shoulders, he can practically feel your desperate, galloping heart against his back. 

“Stay awake.” He commands, voice brusque and sharp.

“Aye, sir.” You mumble.

“That doesn’t sound awake to me.”

“Fuck you.” You say this time, with more emphasis, more feeling.

He grumbles. “Atta girl.”

He shoves open the front door with his shoulder, kicking it closed, and deposits you in front of the cold, empty fireplace. You’re trembling worse than earlier, but you’re lucid. You tug your wet scarf off of your face and struggle to unlace your boots. Unfortunately, there are no logs beside the fireplace. He huffs. Plan B then. The cabin is a single, large room with the kitchen and sitting area sharing the space and a door that presumably leads to the bedroom or bathroom. 

Ghost grabs one of the wooden stools and uses his tactical knife to hack a small divot in the wood so he can snap it with his foot. He breaks the stool into pieces, shoves them into the mouth of the fireplace, and starts the fire with his emergency fire starter kit. He shoots a glance over his shoulder to you. You’ve managed to get your boots and socks off, though the rest of your clothing appears to be a challenge.

Ghost shoves your trembling hands out of the way. He yanks your zipper down.

“O-oy!” You shout with surprise and indignation.

He says, “arms.” 

You relax your shoulders, and he tugs the heavy coat off your body. Wordlessly, you lift your shaking arms, and he pulls the drenched mess of your sweater over your head. Your shirt and tank top comes next, then your sports bra, until you're naked from the waist up in front of him.

Your toned stomach muscles clench. A mapping of scars decorates your skin like battle trophies. If this was any other moment–he might’ve taken a second to appreciate the solidness of your form, the shape of your tits, the honed lethality of your biceps and forearms and stomach. There’s nothing waifish or delicate about you. You’re a weapon of flesh and muscle and hot blood. Your eyes focus on some spot behind him, and the firelight reflects and shifts in the depths of your dark pupils. 

You lift your hips and (with his help) drag your soaked pants and underwear off your body. He does not think about your thighs or your calves. He removes a blanket from his bag and drapes it across your legs. The key to overcoming hypothermia is gradually warming the body. He strips himself of everything but his mask and underwear and sits behind you–bracing his knees around your legs and caging you with his body heat. He shucks his gloves off and gently rubs his palms along your freezing arms. The fire crackles before you. The knobs of your spine and the curve of your shoulder blades press lightly into the planes of his naked, muscled chest. You’re weirdly quiet. 

“No cheeky comment?” says Ghost.

You blurt, “Lev’s the traitor.”

Ghost blinks. 

“Enlighten me.”

“You saved me, not the USB.”

“USB means fuck-all to me. I don’t want you dead, she-wolf.”

You laugh weakly. A full-body tremor wrecks through you. He can feel it across his entire chest and straight to his groin with how he’s got you melded into him. His hands slow. He can feel each individual ridge of the scars on your arms. He can feel the fine, thin hair along your forearms. Your wrist bones and knuckles are the only fine-boned, delicate piece of you that he can touch. He glances down at the sleek musculature of where your neck meets your shoulder. 

Unless he chops more furniture, the fire isn’t going to last long, but it should be enough to get you stable. That’s all that matters.

~~~~~~~

Between the fire raging in front of you and Ghosts’ solid heat at your back–your skin tingles as it regulates temperature and your circulation returns. Your eyes drink in the muscles of his thick thighs, braced on each side of you, and the peek you get of his black-and-white tattoo when his arms move. He hasn’t stopped touching you. His hands travel up and down your arms, to your wrists, and shoulders. How come you never noticed how big his hands were? A flush of warmth burns at the nape of your neck. You feel like you’re being surrounded by a large, jungle cat. And it’s tempting to close your eyes and melt into his warmth. You’re at the safe house. You’re almost home. It wouldn’t be so terrible to sleep, would it? Ghost would keep watch. He’d look out for you.

“Talk.” Ghost orders. “You’ve gotta stay awake.”

“About what?”

“I don’t care.” He huffs. His voice is warmer, as close as you are, and it drips like honey and vibrates across your back.

“I memorized names in the graveyard to keep sane.” You say, surprising yourself with the confession, your secret little game. “I can recite those.”

“Do it then.”

You stare into the flames until your eyes start to water and repeat their names. They were your first ghosts before you met this one. You numbly scratch at one of your scars. You repeat the names again. Ghost isn’t rubbing your arms, but he’s still touching you. His large, calloused palms have settled. One is on your hip, the other is clutching your shoulder and that arm squishes into your breasts. Your back is snug against the hard, muscled planes of his chest. He’s holding you?! You’re not sure why this realization comes as such a surprise. He’s sharing his body heat. There’s nothing tender or romantic about it. You’re his mission. Yet, this is the first time in three years that you’ve allowed non-transactional physical contact. Usually, if someone touched you, it was because they wanted something (or you were manipulating them to get what you wanted). Ghost’s motive isn’t ulterior. It’s transparent. He wants your continued survival. That’s it. 

“You got quiet again, she-wolf.” He says with a breathy edge to his tone. “Better not have fallen asleep on me.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m awake.” 

To add to your point, you wiggle your toes beneath the blanket. At least, you no longer feel like an ice popsicle, but you selfishly want to stay here–in the warmth, muscled solidness of Ghosts’ body. You close your eyes momentarily and try to absorb this moment into the fibers of your being, your essence, and your bloodstream so you can remember it on the cold, lonely nights ahead. Ghost’s breathing deepens. You only notice because of the proximity of his ribs to yours. His thumb glides along the raised bumpy edge of a scar near the end of your clavicle bone.

You say slowly, “that one was from Petrovich.” 

If he wasn’t wearing the mask, you would feel his breath on your skin. His touch withdraws. He rests his palm on your forehead, checking your temperature before his hand glides below your jaw and registers your pulse with two fingers. Everything he’s doing is clinical and tied to survival. Yet, that doesn’t explain the slowness of his movements. It doesn’t explain why his touch lingers below your chin. Your pulse jolts and your breath hitches. His chest rumbles against your back in a low, deep hum. 

“We need to change our route.” You say with Ghost’s thumb and two forefingers loosely wrapped around your throat. “Lev betrayed me. And he knows my exit plan. We need to find an alternative to the border.”

Ghost says, “then we better move before we waste any more daylight.”

His hand recedes from your jaw, and you are bereft of its soft pressure and warmth. Ghost stands up. And you twist your spine, drawing the blanket over your chest, and allow yourself the very selfish and human privilege to see him half-naked. As expected, he’s a fucking massive specimen of virility. You bite the inside of your cheek at the sight of his broad muscled chest, his strong biceps, veiny forearms, and capable hands, the cut of his v-line into his waistband, and the trail of dark hair that travels down from his belly button. Your eyebrows lift in surprise and appreciation. You don’t mind the mask hiding his face because his body is fucking spectacular.

He pulls his shirt over his head. You watch unashamedly at the play of muscles as they ripple across his chest and flex. The low-burning fire snaps loudly and sends a flurry of sparks up the chimney.

“Careful,” His eyes spark behind the mask, “you’ll drool on my nice blanket.” His tone brightens with gentle teasing. Somehow, the sound of his voice like that, deep and teasing, is hotter than the sight of his abs. 

You smirk. “See, I thought you were cute until you got cocky about it.”

He scoffs. “Cute?”

Ohh, you found a little nerve. How delicious. 

“Cute.” You affirm and say no more. You dig through your backpack and procure your last set of clothes. There’s no room for shyness or modesty in an active combat situation. Sure, no one is shooting at you. But that reality can change real fast. You shimmy your underwear and pants over your hips and quickly pull your bra over your head like the house is on fire. You feel Ghosts’ gaze on you. And it blazes like a hot brand across your skin. Forget the fire, the shared body heat, the blanket, all you need is a few seconds of Ghosts’ undivided attention, and you are burning up.

“Here, take this.” You underhand toss the USB to Ghost. He catches it effortlessly.

“Why?”

“In case you fail your mission, I don’t want to fail mine.” You open the closet door and pull a mothball, musty-smelling coat from the hanger. Your clothes drying in front of the fire need a few more hours before they’re wearable. Those are hours you don’t have.

“Lost faith in me already, have you?” says Ghost. 

It’s your turn to scoff. “Hardly.” You level him with a serious gaze, “I’m trusting you with it, Ghost.” 

He says, “Riley.”

“What?”

“My name. Simon Riley.”

Your heart stutters inside your chest. You weren’t expecting him to give you anything in return, let alone his name.

“Okay, Simon.” You smile tentatively, “let’s get the hell out of here, yeah?”

<Part Two>

[jade-eclipse-lithium]

Carmen Sandiego, the greatest on earth, present you a blog filled with Carmen Sandiego content!

I am Carlos Valdez, Jade, Eclipse, Carman Sandiego’s twin. Child of Dexter Wolfe and Carlotta Valdez. Adoptive child of Shadowsan-sama and formerly all VILE faculty.

Isabella and Carlos were brought to the Isle of VILE, as babies by Shadowsan, raised among thieves as Black Sheep and Jade.

Doctor Bellum always had her crazy plans so she took a baby and weaponized it, filled it with deadly science.

Black Sheep and Eclipse, Lambkins, one joined the academy naively, one was already on the dark side.

Note:

The squad at school include Graham, Antonio, our big brothers figures, me and my twin, Lambkins, lastly Ginger who didn’t graduate from last year.

He isn’t really Ginger but nobody knows his name and he is cool with the nickname i gave him.

While Black Sheep hangs around the campus, i go to assassinations or assistant missions. A more active Cleaner.

Back to narrative:

After escaping from VILE, they steal from them as the same person, Carmen Sandiego. When apart is “A” instead of “E”, Carman Sandiego.

By Eclipse who was a faculty-in-training, Cleaner-in-training, he knew all the dirty things he needed to know.

The Twin still sees Shadowsan as their father, Carlotta Valdez who was dragged into this madness as their mother, Hideo who was also dragged into this madness as their Uncle.

Narration done:

I’m not actually he/him. Biologically i am non-binary but someone gotta man up be-twin.

Also VILE has too many girlbosses i mean there’s a coach that could snap you in half and two lesbians.

I haven’t even count Tigress, Paper Star specially my sis, not to mention Lady Dokuso who dad “had a toxic relationship with”.

I’m pretty sure that was a joke about she uses poisons too much and it got on dad’s nerve.

Also, quote Professor “Shadowsan don’t really wanna get laid”

Main reason i prefer addressed as a boy:

That would make me gay but not in a way. I could hang with the gang at the bay. Hang with the girls and slay.

The true reason?

I walk on my father, Dexter Wolfe’s path.

Profile:

Carlos

The very first name i was given, simple birth name from my father, Dexter Wolfe

Jade

VILE gave me this name because i have beautiful green eyes and i like the shiny jades

Lamkins

When i am with Black Sheep, we are one as “Lambkins” but not at the same time for the “s”

Eclipse

Codename when i was recruited as Doctor Bellum’s bioweapon, VILE’s finest soon-to-be Cleaner+Faculty

Carman Sandiego

When i am on caper alone, i refer myself as Carman Sandiego and dress as Fedora the Explorer

Carmen Sandiego

When me and my sister are together, it is hilarious to see the look on people faces when they see two Carmen Sandiego.

Shadows

When i am with Shadowsan, my dad and idol 5ever since we use shadows as our cover and we both have shadows in our names

The Cleaners

When i am working with the other two Cleaners, Vlad and Boris to clean up messes, or to assist on missions, capers, or simply when we mess around

Crowley

Moose Boy, Otter Man, Neal The Eel, Dash Haber, my babysitter when i was younger call me because i hold grudges.

Appearance

Identical twin with Carman Sandiego, so basically the same

Can adjust height due to adjustment of metal bones

Can change the colours of my skin and eyes due to i am a cyborg

Normally 🟢, strong emotions/kill mode/trigger words 🔴, sad 🔵

Six fingers, so double thumbs up, double finger guns and double middle fingers with just one hand

Fangs that can tear metal off

Weaknesses

Anything can be if you try hard enough

Trigger words, lose control of myself

Highly functional sociopath, put the hot in psychotic

Dolls, they are TERRIFYING

Nap, eat too much, it’s a bad habit

“Vile” and wide issues that can’t be called “issues” cuz they can’t be fixed

Here We Ship

Jean Paul/ Le Chevre 🏳️‍🌈 Antonio/ El Topo

🏳️‍🌈 Jeantonio 🏳️‍🌈

“Some French guy” and “dear boy”

Carman Sandiego ❤️ Ms. Julia Argent

“Jules” and “my head is in the game but my heart isn’t”

❤️ Carulia ❤️

Countess Cleo 💚 Saira Doctor Bellum

“Saira” and “Keeping the crown warm”

💚 Cleobellum 💚

Jade/ Eclipse ❤️‍🩹 Mime Bomb/ Ginger

❤️‍🩹 Ginade ❤️‍🩹

“Snitched on my sister” and “heart fingers”

[yui-kuromori]

Mafia AU aesthetics

Based on this AU I wrote.

Because Hatter is extra like that, he likes to keep a very specific wonderland aesthetic for his group, and works hard to keep it while fitting their own personal tastes.

Danma Takeru – Mad Hatter - Hatter goes all out. He has this colorful, patchwork trench coat he wears all the time and multiple color lenses sunglasses he changes every day. From time to time he’ll wear an actual top hat. He sometimes uses temporary hair dye to get some colorful streaks. When he does have to wear formal clothing, it’s a brightly colored suit. The only other outfit he owns are psychedelic boxers and silk robes. It’s not unusual to see him walking around half naked in the gang’s hideout. He has typical yakuza tattoos mixed with bright, watercolor abstract tattoos from his arms, to his shoulders to his chest. Every member has a specific piece of jewelry and his is his “boss” ring.

Aguni Morizono – Bandersnatch - Listen. Aguni doesn’t like to dress up. He owns five black tank tops he wears in rotation, no matter the weather. He does have the Bandersnatch tattooed on his left shoulder blade. He will sometimes wear fuzzy socks that imitate the beast’s pattern. He also has an apron with it printed on him, that has mysterious stains that no one has the guts to question. His custom piece of jewelry his a thin chain with a claw charm that he wears under his shirt.

Chishiya Shuntaro – Cheshire - Chishiya is surprisingly open to Hatter’s antics. Because his work is mostly going undercover, he can’t have anything that’s too flashy. He has Cheshire Cat smiles embroidered on the edges of all his hoodies. He has very minimal, single line tattoos behind his ears, and Niragi’s been talking him into getting his neck covered. I feel like he’d have custom stamped sneakers and a cat eared hoodie. Smudgy eyeliner, always. His jewelry is a simple hoop earring with a smile engraved on it.

Kuina Hikari – Caterpillar or Absolem - Kuina is a fashion queen. She takes one look at the movie’s caterpillar and goes with the blue color pallet for most of her outfits. Butterflies, butterflies everywhere, in her tops, in her bras, even in her makeup, with butterfly shaped glitter around her eyes. She has a puffy jacket that imitates the caterpillar’s body. She has butterflies tattooed on her upper arm and shoulder and the trans flag on her ankle. Her piece of jewelry is a cocoon shaped charm that she hangs on her hair.

Niragi Suguru – March Hare - This man’s fashion sense is a mess, crazy shirts, colors and tight pants. His guns are all engraved with hares and hare ears. He has this blood red coat inspired by the animated movie that Hatter gave him. He has patchwork tattoos all over his body. His piece of jewelry is surprisingly simple, his tongue piercing that Aguni did when he first joined the gang. That’s why he’s always so proud to show it.

Samura Takatora (Last Boss) – Jabberwocky - Scales, scales everywhere. On the hilt of his sword, on the leather of his vest, on the soles of his shoes. His tattoos are very obvious, so when he’s on civilian duty, he actually has to cover them up with makeup. He looks so different that he can easily slip by police. His piece of jewelry is a dragon shaped ear cuff.

Ann Rizuna – White Queen - Pristine white suits and shirts and blood red lips. Her iconic white lab coat gave her her codename. Her sunglasses have little crowns on the frames. She has the human skeleton tattooed from her shoulders, across her chest and stomach to her hips. Her scalpels and tools are all engraved with icons representing the other members and she’s named them after them (a small sharp one named Arisu, a loud bone saw named Last boss). Her piece of jewelry is actually her sunglasses, that are way more expensive than anyone would guess.

Kodai Tatta – Dormouse or Arganaz - His cap has little a little mouse embroidered on the flap and he’ll often wear a loose purple bow tie around his neck. He has mouse keychains and teacups painted on his sneakers and coats. He wears a lot of jeans and T-shirts and he lets Hatter and Arisu paint whatever they want on them. He has a needle thin small knife he barely uses, that is covered in Ann’s special brand of poison. His tattoos are small and scattered. Spirited away smooth spirits on his wrist, starts behind his ears. His piece of jewelry is a small Dormouse ring he wears on his pinky finger.

Usagi Yuzuha – White Rabbit - She has rabbits everywhere! Surprisingly cutesy stuff too! On her peach hoodie, on her tank tops and gym shorts. She has a soft pink bunny stamped baseball bat that definitely became red once or twice. Hatter tried to get her to wear bunny ears, but failed after one glare from her. Kuina does her nails every week, and it’s their cute little moment. She gets sparkly sailor moon inspired stuff. She has cherry blossoms tattooed on her back and a letter from her father on her forearm. She also has a quote from Alice in Wonderland on her wrist that matches Arisu’s. Her piece of jewelry are customized brass knuckles Aguni got her and a pocket watch from hatter.

Arisu Ryohei - Alice - Pastel blues, white and red. A lot of trump card inspired accessories. He wears a lot of T-shirts and he has graphic stamps for every character from the books. His computer has Alice’s silhouette on the back of it. He’s got a pastel blue hoodie that he may have or may have not stolen from Chishiya. He has flowers tattooed covering up his top surgery scars, a minimal homage to “Pong” (first videogame ever) in one ankle, and a small wolf on the other (Shibuki, Karube and Chouta all have sheep. It’s an inside joke no one ever figured out), and an Alice in wonderland quote that matches Usagi’s. His piece of jewelry is a bracelet with the trump suits charms.

Extra: sometimes, when he’s working, he’ll get into the zone and not notice what’s around him, and Kuina will jokingly put Usagi’s bunny ears on him. He’ll just spend hours working and walking around with them on, not understanding the weird looks he’s getting.

[aspoonofsugar]

Red and Gray in a Black and White World

Carmen Sandiego likes playing with colors.

In particular, VILE is black, while ACME is white.

This is why Carmen’s codename is Black Sheep, which later becomes ironic when she grows to be VILE’s literal “black sheep” and their thorn in the side. At the same time, Shadowsan too has a codename suggesting something dark in color. Of course, his name also foreshadows that he is the one protecting Carmen from the shadows.

Similarly, the ACME’s agent closest to Carmen is Julia Argent aka “silver”. She is not completely “white” and she is able to see the complexity of the world, differently from Devinaux and Zari.

As a matter of fact the whole point is that Carmen refuses a black and white vision of things. She doesn’t want to join VILE, but she doesn’t want to be a part of ACME either:

She wants to use her “wicked skills” for good.

This is a fitting theme for a show whose aim is to help kids learn about geography and how rich Earth is. It conveys the idea of complexity.

In other words, Carmen explores the world and its wonders at her own pace and with her own rules. This is expressed by her color being “red”. Everything about her is red. Her codename, her clothes and even her adoptive family:

Similarly, Gray is another character, who is neither black nor white, but (obviously) gray (duh).

This is made clear in Chief’s speech above and his moral complexity is also what makes his dynamic with Carmen so interesting.

“GRAY” AND “BLACK SHEEP”: NOT MY NAME ANYMORE

Carmen and Gray’s relationship is one of mutual attraction (platonic or romantic does not matter), but also of conflict.

They want the other by their side:

But they can’t agree on which side they should both be:

This is because they both refuse a part of the other. This refusal is well expressed through the name symbolism of both characters.

On one hand Gray keeps calling Carmen Black Sheep:

He refuses her new identity because he does not understand it:

On the other hand Carmen refuses Gray’s VILE persona, but also his civilian one.

This is interesting because her refusal of “Crackle” is something Carmen does willingly:

She does not genuinely understand it, just like Gray does not understand her being Carmen Sandiego.

At the same time, though, Carmen somehow also refuses Gray’s civilian identity and keeps calling him Gray instead of Graham:

Even if the brainwashing makes their friendship easier, Carmen still feels something is amiss. The person in front of her is not really “Gray”, but somehow a “white” version of him. It is not by chance that she is able to partially rebuild their past relationship by involving him in a dangerous mission:

And in this mission Carmen needs Gray’s “wicked skills” that are still a part of him. She becomes Gray’s link to his previous world:

Just like he is the one who symbolically introduces her to what truly means to be a criminal:

And to its harsher aspects:

At the same time, it is interesting that when brainwashed Carmen still refuses the codename Crackle:

And she only uses it when she thinks he has betrayed her:

In that moment it is as if Gray truly became “black” for her and changed from her partner in crime to an enemy.

In short, both characters can’t truly pintpoint who the other really is.

Who is Carmen really? And is Gray good or bad?

The answers to these questions are difficult because Carmen and Gray themselves are not sure until the end of the series.

THE MISSING MATRIOSKA AND BROKEN LIGHTS

Carmen does not know who she is, while Gray is caught up between his wish to be a criminal and his empathic side.

These internal conflicts are well conveyed through specific motifs linked to the two characters.

Firstly, Carmen’s journey of self-discovery is commented by the burnt matrioskas motif:

The matrioskas are what links Carmen to her biological family. They’re the only things she has had since she was born and it is later revealed they’re a toy her father used to calm her down.

At the same time, the matrioskas symbolize Carmen herself. Like her “oldest traveling companions”, she too is made of multiple identities who live inside her and change as she grows. She starts as Lambkins, grows into Carmen Sandiego and finally discovers her identity in  the finale:

Both in terms of her origins and who she wants to be:

The missing matrioska represents both. On one hand it is the link to Carmen’s past and it is symbolically the smallest one (like a baby). On the other hand seeing it makes Carmen remember who she wants to be.

In short, the matrioska is Carmen’s missing piece both when it comes to who she was and to who she will be.

As far as Gray is concerned, him being caught between “light” and “darkness” is conveyed by his electrician’s motif:

Gray’s criminal career started when a light bulb went off. This is an ironic inversion of a light bulb switching on when one has an idea. Still, it also symbolizes a fall to darkness. Gray’s job was supposed to switch lights on, but he chooses to turn them off, so that he can steal.

This motif comes back in season 2 ep 7 where Carmen’s mission is to stop Doctor Bellum from causing dangerous black-outs. This is tied once again to Gray’s character. As a matter of fact not only the objective is to avoid physical blackouts, but also to stop Graham turning back into Crackle once again. The blackout which must be avoided is the one of Gray’s personality.

At the same time, this motif is not as straightforward as it may seem:

As a matter of fact the whole reason Gray has turned into Graham is a metaphorical “black-out”. This is an interesting idea. Gray has left criminality and can have a new beginning and Carmen sees it as a positive thing. However, this whole new identity is a lie built through brainwashing:

Carmen has good intentions and is ultimately proven right about Gray’s good nature. However, she is still ready to accept a persona constructed through an unethical method.

She meets an idealized version of Gray, she realizes something is missing, but still accepts it. This is why she needs to see this illusion shatter and to confront the real Gray once more.

This happens when Gray gets his memories back:

The one on the Himalaya is the second real confrontation between Carmen and Gray after the one on the train.

At this point, we are shown how they have changed and how they have not.

On one hand Carmen is finally forced to accept that Graham was nothing, but an illusion:

However, she does not completely give up on Gray:

Even if confronted with the truth she still hopes Gray will change. It is just that this change to be true should happen because of her friend’s free will and not through a coercion.

On the other hand Gray has grown enough to accept Carmen:

And to realize she will never come back to VILE. However, he still begs her to stop fighting the organization. In short, he has grown a little, but is still asking Carmen to give up on her life mission, just like she wants him to give up on criminality.

The two characters have clearly grown closer, but they are still unable to see eye to eye and this is why they end the episode as enemies, despite this:

There is clearly affection between them, but this affection is not enough to let them overcome their rift. At least not in that moment.

THE FLYING DUTCH AND THE RED PHANTOM

In season 4 ep 4, while Gray is about to make his choice, we hear a song from The Flying Dutch in the background. This is not a surprise because Graham and Carmen’s relationship has also an Opera motif.

Graham works in a operahouse and famous operas pieces comment his relationship with Carmen while brainwashed. They meet at The Carmen, are reunited through The Swan Lake and finally Graham turns into Crackle again while The Flying Dutch is playing.

This last opera is important not only for Graham’s story, but also for Gray’s overall arc. As a matter of fact the story of this opera is one whose main theme is about how love leads to redemption.

This is precisely what happens to Gray in the end.

In particular, he finds himself in the position Carmen was just a while before: he meets an idealized version of Carmen.

Brainwashed Carmen is who Gray has wanted Carmen to be all along. She is loyal to VILE, close to him and in love with stealing.

However, despite Gray having all he ever wanted he quickly realizes he does not like it at all:

Black Sheep realizes she does not want anything to do with VILE after she sees how the organization has transformed Gray.

Similarly, Gray decides to betray VILE after he sees what they did to Carmen. This is interesting because, while Carmen refuses to work both for VILE and for ACME, Gray ends up working for both.

Anyway, in the end Gray leaves VILE out of love.

Not only that, but he shows to have been influenced by Carmen on a deeper level:

It is because of this that Gray survives his final confrontation with his old classmate.

All in all, Gray manages to save himself and he and Shadowsan are the two people that helped Carmen to save herself the most.

At the same time, Gray and Carmen’s story ends on a bittersweet note. They have both hurted each other, but still clearly love each other:

Despite this, they are avoiding each other. This is not something new, if anything Gray’s final choice:

Perfectly mirrors Carmen’s one in the first season:

Both times the two characters decide that the best thing for the other is for them to walk out from their lives. However, I think that both times this is wrong.

Carmen’s decision is later on proven wrong by how the story develops. Gray would have never truly changed if Carmen had not walked in his life again and he would have stayed prisoner of a lie forever.

Gray’s decision happens at the end of the story and seems to be built on this idea:

The idea is that Carmen deserves a normal life. She deserves to stop being a symbol aka Carmen Sandiego and to become a person. She can now live a normal life and meet her mother.

However, even if it seems Carmen will do just that and she even disbands her gang aka her adoptive family, in the end we are shown this:

Carmen has not given up on being Carmen Sandiego and on fighting criminality. Whatever happened after she met her mother, she goes back to her previous identity. This is because Carmen Sandiego is not just a mask she has worn all this time, but it is genuinelly a part of who she is. The difference between the beginning and the end is that Carmen previously was Carmen Sandiego because she did not know who she was, while now she is because she knows.

Carmen will always be both a good person and a thief. She is both and ironically she has told us (and Gray) this since the very beginning:

Because of this, Gray’s worrying he will make Carmen’s life complicated if he even just contacts her is probably false.

Anyway, in the end their relationship has an open ending, but both characters have both realized who they are and who they want to be and they have done so with the other’s help.

[pawsitivelymiraculous]

Have you ever thought of a fic that involves marinette as carmen sandiego. She is trying to find her parents Selina and Bruce while falling in love with Adrien or Peter Parker while trying to defeat the League of Assassins with Chloe and Kagami while Nino or Max is Player. Her background could be that she was kidnapped by the League or by Talia or Ra's for revenge. her codename was black cat instead of black sheep. What do you think?

Hey anon? You are a genius.

I would change some things though:

I love bio dad bruce but instead of Selina as Mari's mother... How about league of assassins!Sabine? Like maybe she became pregnant and tried to leave the league, she ran away and the league killed her (after giving birth) and took her child.

Damian would be her Gray, but like they are literally siblings. Marinette tries to destroy the league, Damian tries to stop her but rather than hurt her, he tries to convince her to go back to the league.

Also I think I would be interesting if mari left the league, but before leaving, she stole the miraculous box from the league because after seeing it's power she knew that it wasn't safe to leave it. She uses them to destroy the league. (Ladybug themed Carmen Sandiego outfit? Slskdjskjs)

(or go the heist route and mari finds and steals the miraculous form all around the world before the league gets them)

I would have the miraculous crew help her destroy the league. And as for player.... I don't know who he should be.

But this is very interesting and I would love to maybe write it someday however would someone want to collab? I think that would be really fun.

Feel free to add any ideas as well :D

[bonteris]

hold on, i still want you.

redcrackle through the years through carmen’s eyes + the ending we deserved :)

The first time they meet, she’s still Black Sheep and he’s still Gray, and she nearly breaks his neck pulling him over the back of the chair he’s sitting on.

Coach Brunt is initiating the newest class of students, and for the first time, Black Sheep is among them. She’s a few years behind them, and already a head shorter than half the people in the room, so she opts to sit under the cover of darkness in the back and pretend she’s new like everyone else.

Then Coach Brunt announces that they’ll have to earn their codenames, and her gaze turns to Black Sheep. “Ain’t that right, Lambkins?”

Any hope of going unnoticed turns null as forty heads swivel in their seats and eighty eyes scrutinize her. Her insides turn to slush and she sinks deep into her seat.

“Lambkins?” the boy in front of her scoffs. “Who knew VILE had a mascot?”

Indignation moves Black Sheep’s arms for her, and before the kid can even try turning back around, she has her hands firmly planted on his shoulders. In the first second, she sees his eyes widen with surprise. In the next, his head is only a few inches above the floor and she’s glaring down at him.

“Only my friends call me ‘Lambkins’,” she snaps. “My code name’s Black Sheep. Do you understand? Nod if you understand.”

By the time she’s finished, he’s nodding vigorously, and she feels certain she’s established a healthy bit of dominance over the class. Coach Brunt laughs, moves on, and she forgets about the kid, whose name she still doesn't know. Why shouldn’t she? He’s just another reminder of how different she is to everyone here.

She’s settling into her dorm when she hears footsteps behind her. It’s the boy from earlier, sheepishly running a hand through his muted brown hair. He holds out a hand, wincing. Out of the dark initiation hall, she can see he has two dimples that widen when he smiles. Now they seem to burrow into his cheeks. “Uh, Black Sheep, was it? The name’s Graham.”

She studies him, wondering if this is another joke. But any response she might make is cut off by another girl—Sheena, she thinks her name is?—standing by her dolls. “This where you hide your pearls, little girl?”

Black Sheep instantly stiffens. “Please don’t touch my stuff,” she says, careful to keep her voice calm but firm. Her hand curls into a fist involuntarily, but she can’t help it. She doesn’t let anyone near the nesting dolls that came with her to VILE. Anger pricks at her fingers, daring her to throw the first punch.

“What, these?” Sheena replies innocently. Her hand lingers dangerously close to the dolls now, and she knows it.

“I said,” Black Sheep starts, voice low, “keep your paws off.”

The blonde’s smile deepens, eyebrows slanting with the glee of someone who knows they’ve got leverage. Black Sheep readies her stance. She’s better than half the class already; she can take her easily.

Surprisingly, it’s Gray who cuts in, subtly pushing Black Sheep behind him. For a second she wants to barge forward, but then she realizes: he’s placating Sheena, distracting her from Black Sheep’s obvious aggression. “Play nice, princess,” he says, and though his voice is cheerful, the warning is clear. “We all have to room together.”

Sheena mutters something and walks away, but Black Sheep watches Gray. As if he can sense her, he turns, smiling, and flashes her a wink that says, Friends?

Black Sheep smiles back. Friends.

Over the next few months, she and Gray become inseparable. He’s there when they start their first classes together, and he’s there when she aces all of them. He’s there when introduces him to her monthly pranks on Cookie Booker and drags along the others to join them, and he’s there when they get caught. She’s there to see him reinvent himself in Crackle, and she’s there when he passes… without her.

And then, suddenly, he’s gone.

Black Sheep spends most of her time alone now, and she hates every second of it. She hates Shadowsan for failing her, because she knows, she knows, she knows that coat was empty. Tigress isn’t better than her. No one is.

So she follows them. Leaves the globe she grew up with under her pillow in place of her head, yanks the sewage door from its hinges and stows away in the helicopter’s closet. They’re not going to see the world and leave her behind to be failed by Shadowsan, again. He doesn’t get to do what she can’t.

She likes the surprise on his face when he sees her barrelling towards him out of the shadows. It glints brighter than the stars around them as they go sprawling over the side of the helicopter and down towards the ground below.

“Black Sheep?” he yells over the sound of the wind in their ears.

She clutches him tighter. “Don’t let go!”

It’s there, in the ruins at Morocco, that she realizes what stealing really means. It’s there she watches him raise his weapon and aim for an innocent man. It’s there she realizes what kind of person he is, what he’s willing to do.

But all she sees on his face is determination, and the knowing look that comes right before you’re surrounded, and then the Cleaners are behind her.

All of her former friends look angry. Le Cheve and El Topo’s faces are taut with annoyance. Tigress adjusts her now-broken scanner, glaring. But not him. No, Crackle—that’s who he is now—just looks sad. Pitying. She hates him for it.

I will never forgive you, she thinks as his face drags her down into the dark.

...

The second time they meet, she’s now Carmen Sandiego, and she’s just escaped the smarmy Interpol agent she left face down against his own car, still struggling to get up. The high that comes from outsmarting VILE is still following her, and she smiles as she opens the door to the cabin Player booked for her. “First class? Sweet.”

“My treat, Red,” he says through her earpiece. “You earned it.”

Carmen sets her bag down and takes out the black-fabric satchel inside, not wanting to break anything. She’s just about to open it and revel in her prize when she hears the doors slide open behind her.

“Well, well.” Carmen straightens at the familiar voice, turning.

Gray looks exactly as he did when she last saw him—give or take a few years. But the smirk he gives her is all boyish charm as he says, “Blast from the past, eh?”

He shoots the bag out of her hand and it falls to the floor. But Carmen refuses to let any emotion show; she won’t let him see how nervous that makes her. “Dude, seriously? Static cling?”

“Side effect of the directional EMP,” he responds smoothly. “So you can forget about reaching for your phone or fancy toys. They’re dead.”

Resentment shoots through her. “I know how an electromagnetic pulse works, Gray. You aren’t the only one who passed Dr. Bellum’s class.” The satisfaction she gets from seeing his jaw work when she calls him Gray is fleeting, but she keeps it close as she sits, gesturing for him to do the same.

“And you didn’t really think I’d take any of your bait without checking for a tracking device, did you, Gray?” The shock that comes over his face is completely real, and Carmen grins. “That’s right. I wanted you to find me.”

She doesn’t say any of the things she’s been dreaming about for years, such as (but not limited to) How could you almost kill someone? How could you think this is all a game? How could you be okay with hurting others?

How could you be okay with hurting me?

But if these last three years have taught her anything, it’s patience, so she lets him ask her questions, all the while gloating that he’s caught the elusive Carmen Sandiego. She winds him up, allowing him to think he’s won this round.

When she’s finished recounting where she’s been, his face softens. “We miss you, Black Sheep. VILE wants a truce.”

The way he won’t call her Carmen grates on her nerves. “They want me stealing for them, instead of from them,” she counters.

Unbothered, he taps the crackle rod absently. “You’ve proven yourself. It’s all you ever wanted, isn’t it?”

Isn’t it?

Maybe once, but not now. Not when she knows what stealing can do to others, what it can take. He still doesn’t see. Maybe he never will. Maybe all they’ll ever be is two people on two different sides of a war.

She leaves him wrapped in Cookie’s coat (it was high time she got one that didn’t stink of crime, anyways) and breaks the rod. The Interpol agent will come after her soon, so she might as well leave a mark.

Goodbye, Gray, she thinks as she watches the officer realize it’s not her underneath the hat. Then she disappears into the night, leaving the last of her connection to him behind.

...

The third time they meet, a few months have passed, and she’s in Sydney, scouting the Opera House that Dr. Bellum is supposed to be targeting. The intel Player has sent from the files she got him has been impeccable so far, but she has no idea what Bellum is planning tonight. Carmen feels blinded. Nervous.

“Nothing suspicious so far,” she tells Player under her breath, pushing back the plush crimson curtain so she can get a better view of the stage. “If a VILE operative’s here, they have yet to show their face.”

“You there!” someone yells. Carmen jerks to attention, lowering her opera glasses long enough to look up and see him. Gray.

“Scratch that,” she says automatically, surveying him. He’s in an electrician’s uniform, the kind someone working in an opera just like this would wear—some kind of disguise? A cover the faculty created?

Gray looks her up and down, mouth set in a hard line. “What are you doing back here?”

Carmen frowns. “You first.”

That seems to confuse him. She watches his face switch from shocked, to dumbstruck, then to angered until he finally says, “What? I’m working.”

“I know,” she deadpans. “‘Lights out, baby’? Come on, Gray. What job are you pulling tonight?”

The anger has bled from his face, but now he looks oddly… not-evil? She can’t place it. Her bewilderment only grows as he points to the name tag stitched to his uniform. “First, it’s Gray-ham, and second, since electricians don’t seem to intimidate you, I’ll be more than happy to have security escort you out.”

“Wait, what?” Carmen asks. “You don’t expect me to believe this innocent act, do you?”

He reaches forward and takes her arm, grip surprisingly strong for someone who relies so much on tech. Carmen is too surprised to do anything but be dragged along. “No wristband, no backstage access,” Gray informs her as they walk. “I don’t make the rules.”

She gives him an appraising look as they round a corner. “You really don’t remember me.”

It’s only half questioning, but he stops and examines her anyway, dimples amplified in the shadowed corridor. “Fashion statement aside, mate, you’d be hard to forget. If there is a next time, I promise not to make that mistake again.”

Flattery, she thinks, full of wonder. Or… flirting?

“Guess you just, uh, remind me of someone I used to know,” she lies weakly, but he seems to believe it.

They reach the door, and he says goodbye, and the door almost shuts, but she races through it as he walks away, head reeling. Le Chevre arrives, they fight (she wins) and all is well.

Except.

When she doesn’t see him exiting with everyone else, Carmen scours the famous Opera House’s grounds until she spots him in the distance. She lands her glider before he can notice it, but the moment her heels hit the ground he turns and smiles. “Hey, I remember you. Ol’ Red Sneakeroo.”

“Good memory,” she says lightly, trying not to think of how strange this all is. He doesn’t remember her. She remembers the best of him. They’re at an impasse, but he’s unaware. It’s odd, being the only one who knows the whole story. Carmen isn’t sure she likes it.

“Not really,” he sighs, and for a second he looks so impossibly sad she’s not sure what to say for once. Then it passes, and his eyes are back on hers. “So, looking to get backstage for an autograph?”

The corners of her mouth tug upwards. “No. To the outback for some sightseeing. Thought you could be my guide.”

“I wish,” he says regretfully, taking out a slip of paper to write something down. “Something fried the soundboard tonight. I have to pull an early morning shift to troubleshoot.”

Le Chevre, she thinks, annoyance lancing through her, but tamps it down. “You mentioned having a bad memory. Why is that?”

For the first time since they’ve spoken today, he falters. The pen slips in his hand. “Well, I—I kind of messed up on the job a while back, got a little ‘jolt’, as we sparkies say. Complete blackout, long hospital stay, blah, blah.” He laughs ruefully. “There’s more than an entire year of my life I can’t remember.”

“A whole year,” she marvels. That’s enough time for her to be gone. That’s enough time for VILE to be gone.

He’s still talking. “I’d say I’m lucky to have my job back, if ‘electrician’ weren’t such a dangerous occupation.”

“Oh, I can think of worse ones,” Carmen quips. He finishes writing and hands her the slip of paper. “Is this the address of an outback guide?”

“A good guide’s easy to find online. This is the address of my favorite café in Sydney. I’ll be there Friday night at 8 p.m. You?”

Carmen ignores the ache in her chest. She has him back. The Gray from before. Her Gray. “Let’s see if I make it back from my tour in one piece.” She starts walking away.

“Hey!” he calls from behind her. “I never got your name!”

“Carmen,” she replies without looking back.

That Friday, at 8 p.m. on the dot, she stands across the street from the café written on the paper he gave her. The ache that formed in her chest the night she left him standing on the Opera House’s steps has widened to a crack. She has so many questions. So many things she wants to say. How is it fair that she gets to know everything about him, and he doesn’t? Who did this?

Even as she thinks it, she knows the answer: VILE. Carmen hates them for ruining him, molding him into a killer that she cannot believe he is at heart. It’s not him, not really.

Across the street, Gray looks up, eyes lighting up when he sees her.

She can’t do this.

So when the bus drives by, she lets it take her, too.

“I can’t let VILE see me with him,” she explains to Player, once she’s a healthy distance away. Her hood is over her head and her hands are shoved deep in her pockets. Her voice wavers. “But not for my safety, for his.”

“What? Why?” Player asks, confused.

The reality hits her like a kick to the stomach. “For whatever strange reason, Gray has a fresh start now. And having Carmen Sandiego back in his life would… only complicate that.”

Carmen shuts her eyes against the cool night air and imagines she’s back at school for the first time since she left Gray on that train. I’m sorry, Gray, she thinks as she watches him get up from his seat at the table and leave.

...

The fourth time they meet, she comes to him, and it’s because she needs help. A caper involving dangerous EMP technology is worrying her, and he’s the best person she knows for the job. But the idea of dragging him back into all of this is scarier than facing off with Coach Brunt again.

It’s a perfect day, cool and sunny, and Gray sits sipping a cup of coffee as he reads a book. His eyes flick up as she approaches, and a small smile forms on his mouth. “You’re late.”

“Fashionably, I hope.” She takes the fact that he hasn’t thrown his coffee at her as a sign that it’s safe to sit. “I’m sorry I stood you up, Gray.”

He holds up a finger. “Um, it’s—”

“Graham,” she finishes, sighing. She has to get used to calling him that. “Right. Look, I was called away on business at the last minute.”

At that, he puts the book down and turns to her. “What kind of business?”

“I run an international charity for abandoned children,” Carmen says. The lie slips past her lips easily. “In fact, that’s the reason I came to see you today.”

“Oh?” He says, angling his head the way he does whenever his interest is piqued. It’s somehow both familiar and completely foreign on his face.

“I am sponsoring a big fundraiser in Auckland, New Zealand, this week. Selections from Swan Lake.”

His face shows the barest hint of recognition. “Tchaikovsky. I’ve lit a few Russian ballets at the old Sydney Opera House.”

Carmen leans back. “Fortunately for me, our lighting technician dropped out, and I’m hoping you can help.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “On one condition.” She waits, and he points a playful finger. “You have that cuppa with me afterwards.”

Carmen raises a brow in answer. “I’ll have the foundation book you a flight.”

Things go well—she has VILE’s agent trapped and gets through the grids easily, thanks to Gray’s help. For a moment, she even imagines it’s like old times, her taking the lead and him backing her up. “Player, I’m warm. How’s the ballet?”

Then she hears Player’s voice in her ear. “On indefinite intermission. Our lighting tech walked.”

“What?” she hisses, voice low despite being the only one in the room.

“Zach and Ivy are combing the grounds for him,” Player says.

“Find him,” she says. “I’m too close to turn back now.” And too close to save him if they realize he’s involved, she thinks, but leaves that part out.

She makes it to the EMP sphere, hands hovering over the control panel, when she hears a familiar voice.

“Carmen?” Gray asks, bewildered, at the same time Bellum yells, “Sandiego!”

She doesn’t wait to see what Bellum has planned. Carmen runs.

“What kind of concert hall is this?” says Gray as they round the corner, him keeping up easily.

“Experimental!”

They hit another corner and a gaggle of VILE guards—Neal included—look their way. But Carmen has Gray behind her before any of them can even see there’s a second person there, and she shoots forward.

Neal effortlessly sidesteps her punches, sliding out of reach the harder she tries to hit. Carmen rears back, foot swinging up, but he has a hold on her shoulders before her foot can hit its mark. She thinks he says something, but the words start to muddle together as he pushes her head farther than it should go. Her breathing turns ragged. Carmen sags—

And is released. Neal’s body crumples to the floor next to her, and she looks up to see Gray, holding a crackle rod in two hands.

Fear spikes through her, hot and bright. Does he remember?

Then his face contorts with disgust and he tosses the rod. “You… don’t run a children’s charity.”

She smiles. “I’ll explain over that coffee.”

Together, they sabotage Bellum’s sphere and step off the platform, Gray holding tight to Carmen, who ejects her glider. She has a sudden memory of her being the one holding tight as they fell, Gray’s eyes on hers as the ground rushed up to meet them.

Now, she hugs him tight to her as the glider loses altitude. At the last second, it retracts from her back, and they go sprawling, her head hitting the ground hard.

When she comes to, Carmen looks around, panicked, and sees him lying a few feet from her, completely silent. The woods loom around them, shielding them from VILE’s eyes, but Carmen forgets everything at the thought of him being hurt. “Gray? Gray?”

His eyes crack open. “It’s—Graham.”

She doesn’t think she’s ever been happier to hear him argue with her about something.

Later, they sit at the café he first mentioned, watching the opera house in the distance. Carmen likes the way the moon reflects off the water, a line of milky light that traces its way over the bay.

“Carmen, I have to know,” Gray confesses. “Are you a spy? Part of some kind of… secret service?”

She mulls over what to tell him for a moment. “I do provide a service, and it is secret, so… yeah, something like that.”

“But we are the good guys?” he asks cautiously.

The crack in her chest yawns open. There’s so much she wants to say. So much she wants to tell him. But would he listen? Would he care, if it turned that awful part of him back on, the part that nearly killed that man that night?

I will never forgive you.

“Absolutely,” she says, full of surety that she doesn’t feel.

Gray says something else, but she’s only half listening, and when he looks back, she’s gone. He laughs to himself, seemingly unbothered, but Carmen watches him get clear their table, wiping their meeting from the café’s memory.

I forgive you, she thinks, and though he wouldn’t understand, the crack in her chest closes over a little.

...

The fifth time they meet, she learns that he’s in Iceland from Player. He tells her the tab he’s kept on Gray was tipped off, and her heart does a little jump. It’s been so long since she last saw him. So long since they spoke. She misses the way his dimples deepen when he smiles, the way his head tilts to one side when he’s interested, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. But, still. Iceland. Player tells her he’s been arrested.

She tries working through what might have happened. That dangerous game of What If. What if VILE has found him? What if he’s reawoken some part of him… No. She won’t go there. Carmen refuses to hand him back to VILE, not when he’s been given a second chance.

When she gets there, it’s easy to remove him from their records, easy to read the file.

Easy to see he’s in jail because he robbed someone.

Her mouth tightens, but Carmen is too focused on getting him out, away, to do anything but continue on. Even when Devineaux arrives, oddly complacent considering the last time they spoke he was screaming at her as she ran away. (It seems that’s how most of their meetings go, nowadays.)

Gray sits in his cell, bent forward far enough that she can see the crease of his brows easily. He pinches his nose as if trying to remember something, and he almost looks like he’s going to cry.

Sharp as always, he hears her coming and looks up. “Carmen? How did you know I was here?”

I’m a spy, she thinks bitterly. And I can’t even keep you out of trouble. All I can do is watch.

What comes out instead is “All in good time, Gray. We need to get you out of there.”

She holds up the keys, dangling them for him to see, and he shakes his head fondly. “It’s Graham—” Then he cuts off, eyes widening. “Look out!”

It’s the cleaners. One’s hands snake around her arms to hold her in place, terribly familiar. She realizes that this—the cleaners knocking her out, Gray watching—is just a replay of that night in Morocco, and that thought forces her to bring her heel down, hard.

Instinct shoves the one holding her back, kicks the second in the chest. He spins back into the wall, and she raises her fists. She’s not losing this time. She refuses.

She staggers back and the room spins. Her hands close around the mop nearby and she levels it at the cleaners. She barely holds on to her consciousness as the world turns to a blur of red and grey. Carmen manages to fend them off, keeping her back to Gray, but before they can advance further, they get a call and retreat down the hall.

The mop clatters from her hand. “Carmen!” Gray pleads. “Are you okay? Do I know those guys? Who were they?”

“Guys who never leave before the job is done,” she says, voice paper-thin. She starts trying the locks, the sedative the cleaners gave her finally wearing off.

That’s when something cuts through the ceiling.

Gray scrambles back as a neon-green light slices through the stone. Carmen’s senses are still too slow, too slow, too slow, and Gray is stuck, and he’s yelling something that she can’t understand, and why aren’t these keys working?

The severed ceiling hits the ground with a thud, almost loud enough to conceal the metallic one that follows. But not loud enough.

The robot stands, surveying the scene before it with mechanical disinterest. Carmen’s hands move without her needing to think, flying over the lock as she tries key after key. Come on, Come on—

The robot takes Gray in one hand, ignoring his struggles. Carmen’s voice shakes, and she wonders if Gray understands why as she screams, “No!” She fires her cable towards him, but the robot catches it instantly, yanking her forward.

Pain explodes up Carmen’s arm. Nononononononono—

The cable is ripped from her hand, and Gray calls her name. There in one second, and then gone in the next.

Her voice is drowned out by the helicopter. I’m sorry, Gray, she thinks, but there’s only silence greeting her where he used to be.

...

The sixth time they meet, they’re in the Himalayas, at Bellum’s lab. She hates it here. Hates the way everything is so drained of life and color, so muted. Scrubbed of emotion. She sneaks past the robots, easily overtaking the guards, but her mind is elsewhere. Gray. What if he’s not the way she last saw him? What if he remembers? Worse, what if he doesn’t?

Carmen heaves against the door with all her might and it gives under the pressure. “Gray? We have to move.”

He doesn’t turn. “The name is—”

“Gray-ham,” she finishes, fondness bleeding into her voice against her better judgement. She’ll never get used to calling him that. “I know, I know.”

“No,” he says slowly, and stands. The click of a crackle rod being turned on registers in her mind, and Carmen’s confusion only deepens. Then she sees the look on his face, devoid of warmth, and dread starts to settle in her stomach. “It’s Crackle.”

Her mouth drops open, but she can’t bring herself to say anything. Didn’t she know this was coming? Didn’t she think over what she would say, hour after hour, because she knew at some point VILE might not want him to be so oblivious anymore?

She has no idea what to do.

“I assume you prefer I continue to call you ‘Carmen’?” he asks, raising the rod in her direction.

“Gray, no matter what they told you, you’re not that guy anymore,” she croaks.

His face, illuminated in the green light turns pitying. She remembers when he used to look like that. She remembers that night in Morocco, when the last thing she saw was his sad face before she was pulled into unconsciousness.

“But I am that guy,” Gray whispers, shaking his head. “I’ve always been that guy.”

Carmen can’t seem to make sense of this. Graham. Gray. Crackle. She’s losing him to VILE, and everything is muddy, and this is worse than Reykjavik because he’s choosing this, choosing them, and she can’t save him because he doesn’t want to, and—

“No,” Carmen says forcefully. “Sydney, the café, we’re the good guys, remember?”

He scoffs a little, but there’s no malice in it, just resignation. “When you finally had that cuppa with me.” Then his eyebrows furrow. “Being good only mattered to me because Bellum rewired my thinking, programmed me to be some sort of… innocent fool.”

“It’s never too late to change,” she insists.

He hasn’t lowered the rod, and somehow Carmen knows that he won’t hesitate to use it. “I’ve had time to reflect. Piece together the fragments. And there’s only one thing I’ve ever regretted doing for VILE.”

Carmen’s eyes flick from the rod to his. Suddenly, he powers it off.

“Trying to hurt you,” he whispers.

Her lip quivers, and she knows he sees it, because he continues before she can say anything in response. “I know you won’t come back to VILE. We’ve had that chat, on the train to Paris. But I’m begging you: give up trying to stop us, because I don’t ever want to be put in a position to hurt you again.”

The breath is gone from her lungs.

The hope is leeching from her.

She’s losing him.

Maybe he’s already lost.

“Then, apologies,” she says shortly, voice miraculously steady. “Because I won’t stop trying to take down VILE. Not ever.” Her hands tighten around the table. “And definitely not now.”

She holds up the fuse for him to see, and feels a terrible kind of satisfaction from seeing his eyes widen in realization as she presses it.

The bombs she set on her way in explode in a flurry of sparks and ash, and alarms start to ring before she’s even gotten up. Behind her, Gray pulls himself up, forward, face smeared with soot. Pain flashes across his face, but she doesn’t think it’s because of the rubble around him.

Despite the alarms ringing around them, when the words come out, they greet dead silence. “Goodbye, Gray.”

But all she can think is, Please forgive me.

...

The seventh time they meet, Carmen watches through someone else’s eyes as he smiles and flirts and acts as if everything is normal. Does he know? She wonders. Does he know I’m not in control?

She watches, as if underwater, as she takes and steals and moves on. She’s always been good at thievery, but with everything she’s learned since she left, she’s devastating once she’s fully on VILE’s side. Carmen pounds against the cage around her, but it only seems to get tighter the harder she tries to fight. A vice she’ll never be able to escape. A hold she’ll never be able to break.

She sees herself back with her old friends, not content but restless, wanting out of the easy life that’s been handed to her by the faculty. This Carmen wants a challenge, a fight. She relishes the way people resist when she comes after them. She sees only a chance to prove herself worthy in everything.

She watches this Carmen leave her friends. Watches her trick Zach into following her to the ferris wheel, the hope shining on his face. He thinks she has control. He thinks she needs his help.

She screams as she realizes why she’s brought Zach to the top of the wheel, the lights shutting off around them.

She pounds against the control they have over her as she lands a roundhouse on him so strong he barely manages to hang on to the ledge.

And as Carmen turns away from Zach’s sharp yell, she crumbles, unable to do anything about it.

She’s only half paying attention, huddled in a dark corner in her mind with her arms around her knees, drawn in tight, when she hears that familiar cry behind her.

Carmen’s eyes snap open and Gray’s shut and both of them struggle as he brings the device down on her head.

“Please come back,” he’s murmuring into her hair, even as her elbow digs into his gut, even as she slams the two of them back into the wall, even as she pulls him over her head and levels the rod, the device broken, control restored, even as she pulls off her gloves because she has to do this herself—

“You sold me out, Gray,” she hears herself say, voice gravelly with pain.

His hazel eyes widen. “No! I’m trying to help.”

Underwater, she’s underwater, she’s—

She raises the rod.

“It’s finger-print activated,” he says hoarsely. “It won’t work for you.”

“It’s finger-print activated. It won’t work for you.”

The memory hits her, unbidden. They’re standing in a train. She has the rod against his neck in warning. He’s watching her as if he’s never seen her before, because in a way, he hasn’t—Carmen is as foreign to him as a stranger. Darkness closes in—

She staggers, trying to regain control. But in real time, Carmen has barely moved. She smiles at him pityingly, mirroring the look he’s given her so many times over the years. The look of someone who knows they’ve won. “Won’t it?”

Realization dawns on his face at the same time she opens the rod, turning up the power. “Being VILE faculty has its perks.”

Underwater, Carmen screams.

“You’re a dirty traitor like Shadowsan,” she says.

“This isn’t the real you,” he pleads.

She doesn’t care. No, she does. No—

“Goodbye, Gray.” Carmen smirks. “No, wait. You prefer Crackle.”

The last hope of reaching her in his eyes dies as he reaches out a hand. “Please, Carmen—”

The rod fires.

Gray flies back, head cracking against the floor.

His hand goes limp.

His body stills.

And as Carmen walks away, she’s not thinking anything at all.

...

The eighth and final time they meet, Carmen is walking through the corridor of a train, hands rubbing her arms to ward off the cold. She’s wearing her usual red sweatshirt, and her hair is tied up in a knot on her head. The dark jeans she wears are warm enough that she’s not cold, but the breeze coming from one of the cabins is very much trying to undo that statement.

Her hands shake and she absently checks the note Chief gave her, even though she’s already memorized where she’s supposed to go. “Just in case,” Chief had said, handing it to her with a wink. ACME’s fearsome leader, it turns out, has a weakness for meddling. Figures.

Still, Carmen is grateful. Chief has been nothing but helpful regarding her true parentage, and her own side of the story from the night of her father’s death gave Carmen a sense of fulfillment she’s never felt before.

She stops in front of one of the rooms, a smile curving her lips. “First class? Sweet.”

“My treat, Red,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “You earned it.”

“Is it weird that I’m nervous to be back in Paris?” she asks absently, setting her bag down. “Be honest.”

“I don’t think so. You have a lot of history here.”

Carmen laughs. “Understatement. But you’re right. I guess I’m just thinking about him.”

“Gray?”

Her mouth droops at the mention of his name. She knows he’s fine, Chief told her so weeks ago, but the courage to visit him still eludes her. “Yeah. I wish things had turned out differently. Maybe I should ask Chief about where he is…”

“You might see him sooner than you think.”

Carmen’s brow furrows. “What?”

But the device has gone silent in her ear. Player is gone.

And the door behind her slides open.

“Well, well.”

Carmen pauses, afraid that if she turns there will be empty air. That she’ll be imagining things.

But then she sees the reflection in the window.

“Blast from the past, eh?” says Gray, and his smile is still the same: all boyish charm, now mixing with something kind, assured.

He seems to realize she doesn’t know what to say. Those dimples reappear. “In case you were wondering, you can call me Gray.”

And as the crack that has followed her since the night she saw him at the Sydney Opera House begins to close, Carmen finds herself smiling. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Carmen.”

[mengyan]

shadowsan and his brother are the two village kids for their year, and they end up becoming nemeses... also chase would never know peace again thanks to shapeshifting carmen, he'd just be having a good day before seeing a cat and stopping to pet it and then it turns into a huge dragon and he screams. i have no idea who school master would be but chief as head of good and having to deal with her top student falling for evil's top student and player's unconventional methods/talent of do-gooding

AHHSHSHJDKDK??£?£!£! I LOVE THAT OMGG hideo in good faculty and shadowsan in evil would be so good... but also shadowsan not wanting to fight his brother maybe?? like they were supposed to fight during the circus of talents or his nemesis dreams kept getting worse and he couldn’t take it anymore so he defected and left?? so many thoughts holy shit

im actually losing it at that like aksjs chase becomes so scared he sees a regular animal during their animal communication class and is like “AH!! JULIA DO YOU SEE THIS!! ITS CARMEN IN OUR SCHOOL AGAIN!! HOW DOES SHE KEEP GETTING INSIDE” and julia doesn’t even blink and is like “thats a squirrel, chase.” and carries him throughout the assignment so he doesn’t get ranked 20 ((headcanon that he’s good at every class except animal communication because of carmen 😭))

chief would be absolutely exhausted askjdfjdj like objectively julia liking carmen is... not ideal, and the entire good staff keeps hounding her for not putting an end to it, and so she’s kind of just always hovering around them when they’re together like Do Not Pull Any Shit and carmen is always one step away from putting a hex on her but julia is like please don’t

and player. oh boy this kid is something else.

he’s a year or so younger than the rest of the first years (slightly different than canon but it’s fine) but his test scores didn’t lie and... well. the school master actually requested for his admission; they cannot deny that.

he keeps to himself at first, but then carmen pulls a stunt like two days into the school year and he’s intrigued, but he doesn’t say anything.

player and jules bond in fairytales and history class (i forgot the canon official name) and after at lunch, carmen comes up in conversation. (literally everyone on the field where they eat are whispering about her.) they’re both interested because of how the stunt carmen pulled is.. strange.

there’s nothing really malicious about it when you look at it. she’d somehow gotten into good (as evident by the red graffiti spelling out ‘black sheep’ across the walls by the gardens) and from the unlocked doors and opened drawers, you could tell that she was looking for something. nothing was reported missing, and so the students were mostly talking about the graffiti and the codename.

player and jules linger on the fact that she was looking for something, though. she’d gone through the effort of breaking in just to find the item, so it must have been important. player suggests they just ask her, and julia’s like what?! do you hear yourself right now?! absolutely not. and makes him promise to not contact her, and he agrees (lying, obviously.)

he uses his talent- breaking barriers (whether it be physical, magical, sound etc)- and enchants his messenger bird to be able to get past the barrier spells blocking good, and sends it to evil’s tower where he found carmen’s room (wasn’t hard, considering she’d spray painted her window with the same black sheep statement.)

carmen shapeshifts and drops a reply back on his head as a bird at lunch. he immediately tries to look for her, and sees a flash of red disappear around the corner.

carmen points out his ability to get the letter to her in the first place, says “you seem like you’d be pretty useful” and he’s like “i could help you get in, on one condition. you tell me what you were looking for.” and eventually him and carmen come to an agreement but only if he helps her get in once first to prove he can do it.

carmen gets in through the connected sewer tunnels, which is not the best experience in the world, and so player breaks a space in the halfway bridge wide enough for carmen to fly through.

carmen drops her shift and takes him to the good library and archives. she’s looking for information about her father because all mentions of him have been wiped from evil’s own archives and she wants to know why.

oh wait but guess who else is at the library at one AM because of course they are! it’s julia. she sees carmen and just kind of stares for a full minute, calmly bookmarks her page, and turns to player like dude what the fuck

i need to stop this here before this gets out of hand but yeahshjdjd player is powerful and ranked second after jules (though they usually just keep switching between first and second depending on the day) and they help carmen out and it’s so good :’)))

also player’s fingerglow is white or gold. elaborate on that? no

[watchathon]

Carmen Sandiego S1E1: Becoming Carmen Sandiego Part I

In case you’re finding this post just by browsing the tags I’ve used for this post, this is the Watchathon, a blog where I’m hoping to watch an episode of a TV show every weekday, with a short blog post where I write down my thoughts as I watch. Each new thought starts with a hyphen and a bolded first word.

- Like so. Now that the introductions are over with, here’s my thoughts on the first episode of Carmen Sandiego, Becoming Carmen Sandiego Part I:

- First off, before I even watch the episode, it’s weird that the seasons are out of order on Netflix. Like, Season 1 is listed as the second season. And it wasn’t always that way; when Season 2 first came out the show was in the right order...

- I like when the first episode or two of a series skips the theme song. It makes it feel like, when the theme song does come in, the show’s really gotten started.

- “Perhaps stealing’s a game to her.” No, no, no, Jules. That was a decade or two ago, nowadays stealing’s a Netflix original series to her.

- Chase Devineaux is mildly annoying, but in a way that only makes him more fun. If that makes sense?

- I like this whole sequence of Carmen’s heist. It establishes Carmen, Player and Devineux’s characters and dynamics perfectly.

- Carmen’s got the perfect mix of stylish and skilled. She’s easily able to evade capture while still keeping cool.

- “Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?!” I appreciate the reference, but... it seems like a pretty easy answer. A couple miles at most that-a-way. Then again, this is Chase Devineaux we’re talking about.

- Maybe it doesn’t hit as hard as it would if we were a few more episodes in, but Player calling Carmen by her name instead of Red is already apparent as something out of the ordinary which means the situation is serious.

- I like the mystery for these first two episodes surrounding why and how Carmen left VILE Academy. In-universe, even her best school friend Graham has no clue until Carmen tells it to him (and by extension, us, the audience.)

- I like the idea of Carmen being raised by VILE thieves on an island that was home to a school for VILE thieves. It makes it more meaningful when she betrays VILE and starts using her thieving skills for good.

- “I always suspected it was Coach Brunt [who found me as a baby].” See, the fun thing about doing these rewatches is that I have knowledge of all the twists that are gonna come up later on, rendering this line kinda funny with the benefit of hindsight.

There are also a couple other moments that’ll come up which read differently after having watched the series before, but I’ll get to that when I get to it.

- So weird seeing someone with little-to-no experience with or knowledge of cell phones and hacking get a phone call.

- “I have wicked hacking skills, but I use them for good.” I wonder if this is (at least part of) what inspired Carmen to steal for good instead of just leaving thievery behind completely.

- It’s real funny seeing Player so confused about what’s going on with Carmen, who introduces herself as Black Sheep and insists that’s her real name, then simply says she’s at school. A school that needs twenty-seven layers of security.

- Another thing that reads differently with future knowledge is Shadow-san in this episode, and his attitude towards Carmen as a VILE Academy student.

- So, during the montage of classes, we see Carmen and her roommates attending, but then there’s also some unnamed redhead. I was wondering what’s the deal with him, then it hit me: Could it be that he’s Mime Bomb, without the makeup? Just an offhand thought, could be that they look completely different side-by-side.

- I like the setup for Cookie Booker before she becomes more important in Part II.

- “Who would take us seriously if we had puns for names?” Technically, if I’m understanding this right, nobody outside of VILE is supposed to know their codenames. Graham totally could’ve gone for Graham Crackle, and I’ll be the first to say that he should’ve.

- Okay, odds are looking good that unnamed redhead was Mime Bomb before he took up the mime motif.

[brookreader]

Headcanons for Maelstrom and his favourite student Paperstar (platonic of course). How did he realise her potential? And what was his relationship to Carmen before she left? Was he a mentor and if so what did he teach her? I would be happy to hear your thoughts on that matter. :)

Maelstrom & Carmen

They generally got along pretty well, but they weren’t SUPER close. Their relationship was more akin to an uncle and niece than a father and daughter

He saw Black Sheep as something of a pet project or experiment. He was toying with the idea of trying to raise more children on the island, since that way they would be able to learn thieving skills earlier and going out and recruiting would need to be done less and therefore cost them less resources.

Even after Carmen went rogue he still considered the project at least a partial success, though he wants to acclimate any future children they take in to more violence at a younger age so they aren’t shocked and horrified like Carmen was - If he’d had his way Black Sheep would have been raised like that too, but Coach Brunt and Shadowsan insisted on not exposing her to things like murder until she was older

Gunnar was the closest of the faculty members to Dexter Wolfe, and often when he was spending time with Black Sheep all he could see was a mini Dexter. This made him proud but also concerned that she’d end up defecting like her father

Because of this he was the least effected when she DID leave. Of course he was still disappointed and saddened, but since he’d predicted it he wasn’t SHOCKED like his colleagues (sans Shadowsan) were

He taught Carmen how to put people at ease and get them to trust her, or alternately to intimidate without violence or direct threats, both skills which have helped her greatly. He TRIED to teach her to lie seamlessly, but that was never her strong suit. She did learn how to dodge questions like a pro, however

A lot of the strategies Carm used to thwart VILE are things she picked up or adapted from Maelstrom. In spite of his anger at being foiled all the time, Gunnar can’t help but be a little impressed by how clever she’s become

Maelstrom & Paper Star

Maelstrom liked Paper Star well enough from the start, but she didn’t immediately strike him as anything particularly special

When Shadowsan stalked into the faculty room grumbling about how she was butchering his origami lesson, Maelstrom’s interest was piqued

He called her in to talk with him after class the next day, and was very impressed by her creativity in using paper as a weapon and her absolutely unintimidated demeanor

He encouraged her to continue to refine her origami (much to Shadowsan’s annoyance) and spent extra time teaching her how to get into people’s heads

Paper Star wasn’t very interested in subtlety at first, she just wanted to cut people and be feared. Maelstrom, however, was able to show her that in many circumstances a lighter touch can be even more devastating

Paper Star often chose to take her lunches with Maelstrom instead of her fellow students

Maelstrom often had her and Black Sheep work together in class with the hope that they’d become friends and Paper Star would rub off on Black Sheep. That, obviously, did not work

At her request, Maelstrom allowed Paper Star to start going by her codename only a little more than a month into school, long before other students were allowed to

Being Maelstrom’s favorite, Paper Star actually got away with a LOT of stuff others wouldn’t, in some cases even more so than Black Sheep

Maelstrom spent upwards of two hours lecturing Paper Star about following procedure at first and working her way up to being trusted to bend the rules after her first caper, which she... SOMEWHAT took to heart. He also made a point to be more strict with her, after that

He did praise her for getting the ACME card, though

Maelstrom believes that Paper Star would be a good canidate for his eventual replacement in the faculty, though he hasn’t said that to her yet because he knows it would only make her harder to handle

[violetwolfraven]

27 for the lyrics for red crackle ^^

“I hope that you see right through my walls. I hope that you catch me, cause I’m already falling.”

((Sorry I took so long to respond I’ve been busy over in Six of Crows land obsessing over a book series I found and finished in under 3 days.))

...

Gray Graham was unconscious on her couch and Carmen had no idea what to do.

She was mad, obviously. ACME could mess with her all they wanted. They could get their best hackers to mess with Player, though they would have to have an insane amount of luck to so much as find his presence on the dark web. They could mess with Zack and Ivy in the field, even; those two could handle themselves.

But touching Graham, a civilian with no memory of her or even of VILE, that was over the line.

At the moment, Carmen didn’t know what they’d done to him. She’d found him in an interrogation room, a bit banged up but with no lasting injuries, and unconscious. She hadn’t been able to wake him up.

Shadowsan was on his way back from Hong Kong, where there was apparently had a doctor who owed him a favor, but at the moment, she had no way of finding out what was wrong with her former best friend.

Carmen had no idea what to do.

Take away the bruises, and he looked exactly like the last time she’d seen him sleeping—and not in a creepy way, they’d shared a room for almost a year; it wasn’t like Carmen had ever intentionally watched him sleep.

Well, maybe she had once. Maybe she’d watched all of her roommates sleep the first night, marveling at how they could drop their guard that much in a room of thieves.

“Still asleep?” Ivy asked, coming in.

Carmen nodded, “How far out is Shadowsan?”

“He just landed. Zack just picked him and his friend up from the airport. That’s actually what I came in here to tell you.”

Even having said her piece, the redhead lingered, and Carmen could practically sense the question brewing.

She sighed, “Speak your mind, Ivy.”

“I don’t get it,” Ivy blurted, “You look at Crackle—the guy who tried to kill you once—like you’ve got a million shared stories, and you’ve never told me or Zack about them. We’ve known you two years, Carm. Sure, maybe you’ve known Player longer, but he’s not always here to talk. So... why don’t you ever talk to me?”

Carmen smiled faintly, “So, what, we’re just supposed to have girls’ night like normal kids?”

“I never said that,” Ivy sighed, “Look, we’re here for you. I just need to make sure you know that.”

Carmen did know that. She knew she could trust Ivy, and she knew she could trust Zack, too. The two of them had practically adopted her into their little family within a day of knowing her. They fascinated her, with how easily they trusted and how deeply they loved. They’d both almost died multiple times for her.

But talking about VILE... that was the one thing Carmen couldn’t do. She’d only told Player because he already knew most of it. Carmen had been a different person there. She’d had different morals and different friends.

“I know that,” she assured Ivy, “But I can’t talk about it just yet.”

The redhead still looked bothered, but nodded and left.

VILE had been mostly bad memories, but somewhere in there, there’d been Gray, who had morals at first then changed.

Maybe the change had never been obvious. Maybe it was so slow you couldn’t even see it until suddenly you looked at the person you thought you knew and realized that you weren’t looking at the same person anymore. Carmen didn’t even know for sure when it had started or if it was permanent.

But she did remember the Gray before. She remembered the Gray that lit up like a Christmas tree when Dr. Bellum praised his engineering skills and the Gray that was so friendly he’d somehow made friends with both her and Tigress. She remembered the Gray who picked the lock to Dr. Maelstrom’s classroom at midnight just because he claimed that room had the best acoustics.

That had been a fun night. It was before the change, before the night when Carmen realized her friends were killers. It had been before they’d even come up with codenames to hide behind when they did terrible things.

They’d all pitched in to help Gray hack the computer, and the five of them from the mainland looked up karaoke tracks, teaching Black Sheep their favorite songs until dawn, singing their hearts out. Miraculously, they never got caught for that.

Carmen smiled at the memory. It was one night of fun without rivalries or complications. Just six teenagers messing around and rebelling.

Carmen remembered them passing a hairbrush around as a pretend microphone. Jean-Paul dared Antonio to sing Despacito, Sheena danced on a desk as she belted out Hollaback Girl and All Star, Gray sang countless corny love songs with a few classic rock songs mixed in.

Mostly, she remembered one song he’d taught her, saying it reminded him of her, but he didn’t know why. Sheena had said she kinda saw it, but not really, but Jean-Paul and Antonio had agreed.

As much complication as it brought, a part of Carmen wanted Gray to remember her. And that part knew that if he’d remember one thing, it was that night.

Maybe that was what made her quietly sing the first couple sentences of that song’s chorus.

“I hope that you see right through my walls. I hope that you catch me, cause I’m already falling.”

She stopped there, realizing how stupid this was. Even if Gray heard and some part of him remembered, there was still that part of him that had changed. The part that had tried to kill people— had tried to kill her—and probably had killed at some point after she left VILE.

Even knowing that, she still wanted him back.

Maybe it was stupid, but she wanted Ivy and Zack and Player to know him as he’d been.

And maybe she wanted that part she remembered back for herself, too.

[grahamcarmen]

I'm rewatching and when Carmen says "like the big brother I never had" Gray's face changes from closed off/angry to something else then back

highkey when i saw it i’m like “oh so you’re surprised too huh graham?”

because for like the entire first episode i had been reading their dynamic as black sheep and crackle as a friendship and carmen herself had been defining it as a friendship up until this moment

“i was making new friends” she narrates over graham coming to her defense when tigress tries to touch her russian doll set

“he’s my best friend” she excitedly tells player before amending the statement to “school friend”

while Graham’s not unaware of carmen being younger (ex. he calls her kiddo, ruffles her hair when he’s trying to cheer her up) he more or less treats her as an equal due to her abilities and straightforward attitude. she’s as much his friend as the others on the VILE squad

the hair ruffle is probably when carmen had decided that their relationship’s definition was probably closer to family than it was friends (remember when a random kid in ep 1 did a head ruffle and she pants-ed him and it was all ok because VILE’s just a playground with “family” passing through) and kinda plays into the interesting thing about these 2? they keep redefining their dynamic in an attempt to understand exactly what it is. 

if we’re doing color theory i’m kinda suspicious that white = unknown (ex. white hat hacker player doesn’t know about carmen, zack’s the one i feel understands carmen the least and his shirt is white, and VILE’S uniform is white/gray) and probably when she gets her green and black colors does she feel comfortable in what everyone’s roles are aka. after they choose codenames. but the moment she stopped considering him “like a brother she never had” and discovering unknown things about VILE she’s wearing the white uniform again.

but Graham was probably aiming for friend. just friend. so he’s probably taken aback that this was how carmen had viewed their dynamic for any amount of time, especially after having the friendship aspect have more of a role for a huge part of her retelling...

and  probably why he glosses over it to instead address her accusations at his actions