#I mean he did eventually save [redacted] but it makes me laugh

[ormymarius]

He was such a bitch here, I was giggling in glee (slight spoiler under the cut)

[cooloddball]

This is going to be a super long analysis of jib3 starting with the opening ceremony to the closing ceremony so brace yourselves. 

Please note I believe in the breakup theory so maybe my opinion in this one might be biased so please don’t come for me, lol.

I will put it under the cut to avoid overcrowding your dashes with cockles shenanigans. 

Also, watch out for profanities and mature language.

And so it begins...

Opening ceremony

The camera used to record the opening ceremony is shaky. 

Misha, Jason Manns, and Jarpad seem to be having a lot of fun together and Jensen is just looking at his besties talking to the man he loves and he knows he can’t have that so he just stands there looking at them. Poor guy.

Jarpad asks who took Misha’s riffle? Things are awkward, I honestly don’t know what’s going on.

Misha kisses a plushie while making eye contact with Jensen and Jensen is like “oh, oh, wow” while making eye contact with Misha. LOL. Jack help me. This is a lot!!!

Jensen takes a plushie from Sebastian and Jared takes the one Misha had.

Are you guys flirting about trying to see whether you can keep plushies alive?

Misha throws something at the fans, I think he was throwing treats from earlier or whatever it was and Jensen says “Misha is still throwing” I mean why?

Cockles Panel

Jensen is so extra in this panel.

First of all, when he and Misha come out (no pun intended) a song starts playing and he starts dancing. Jensen is usually so poised while dancing but he is over the top throwing his back and shaking his tush for the mish.  I think he was trying a little too hard. Misha spares his ex-boyfriend’s tush a glance smiles and looks away. LOL. The whole thing was cringey, tbh. It was so unlike Jensen.

When Sebastian touches Jensen’s shoulder and says something to Jensen, he [Jensen]  laughs way too hard. I would say he laughs abnormally-it’s loud and he throws his whole body into it like he’s trying to prove what Sebastian was funny and it probably wasn’t. He laughs so hard he ends up right on Misha’s side. and Misha laughs at that though.

Rich says something about something in the sac that hurts(It’s incoherent) and Jensen says it hurts right here pointing at his heart (I can’t hear what they are saying exactly so if anyone knows please let me know)

I don’t know if Mark P. was going to hug Jensen or not or he was pointing at something behind Jensen, but at that moment, Jensen sees Sebastian going to hug Misha and whips his head away from Mark P’s direction so fast he almost broke his neck.

Sebastian humps Misha (these two are so playful I love them) and Jensen is just there acting awkward 

There’s a comment by Rich about “It’s over, the convention’s over I’m no longer your bitch” I don’t know who this is about.

Now, now, now. This whole time Rich is doing a kissy mouth with his fingers on the monitor behind Jensen and Misha. His hand is right where Misha is standing (you’ll understand once you watch it) so Jensen makes a kissy face back and Misha is blushing? Ummm wtf is going on here?

Jensen also does something strange that he never does during cockles panels he pulls his seat away from Misha.

Misha makes a very weird comment about Sebastian’s libido drying up and they have a weird conversation about libido and Viagra ads. It’s weird.

It gets even more awkward Jensen talks about bringing a total stranger, and a blind date. And it goes downhill from there with them. The it wasn’t you it was me speech. It was special. So heartbreaking. It was clearly not about the show but about their relationship. I always have a difficult time getting through that part. It’s so awkward that the fans are just there wondering what the hell is going on.

They decide to take questions and the fan is all over the place so Misha interjects but Jensen won’t let Misha say what he wants to say so he says, “This is why you make it awkward. You never let people finish what they are saying.” Ouch. Domestic dispute vibes anyone?

The way Jensen is looking up at Misha when he’s answering that question. It’s like he wants to sear his face into his memory before they leave Rome.

Jensen is explaining to a fan how one of the four sound stages they had on set was full of furniture and Misha adds “and soiled mattresses”  I mean what was the reason? Did they soil the mattresses with their [redacted]

A fan mentions something about Dean and Cas so these two adorable dorks smile and share a look. Things are starting to look up. Thank Jack.

The fan says something again (I can’t make out what he’s saying) but it must be something nice because they look at each other with smiles on their faces again.

Jensen playing with the head of his microphone. Is it just me or did the temperature rise a notch higher?

The way they look at each other when the fan says to help him choose the hottest female cast member on the show 

Then something freaky happens they say the exact same thing as twins or bffs do sometimes. LOL.

When they start talking about the hot women with the fans Misha moves his entire body and now instead of looking at the fans, he is seated facing Jensen.  The tension is simmering down.

A point to note is that in all their panels they always sit angled facing each other as opposed to facing the crowd save for this panel and DCCON 2019. But for DCCON I can understand that they weren’t comfortable being meant to be a J/2 panel and a creation event. So you know some people in that crowd are super mean to Mish and others to Jensen, so they had to tread carefully. But I digress back to the chaos.

They ask who wants to have a cockles panel the next year and they both raise their hands. I thought that was sweet

 It’s adorable how Jensen keeps repeating everything Misha is saying.

Misha forgets himself and moves too close to Jensen to listen to the song on the phone. Jensen turns to look at Misha, I don’t know what that look is but Misha backs away laughing.

Jensen’s face journey while listening to that song is gold.

Misha moves closer to listen to the song.  I have to say the way they are standing is not usually how two bros listening to music usually stand. If you know what I mean

 Misha agrees that’s definitely Jensen singing. Of course, he knows because Mr. “Jensen sings to me all the time”

He looks so proud of him.  I’d venture to say he’s happy to hear Jensen sing because he has always been so shy about that fact about himself. He even gives him a standing ovation. That’s so adorable. He loves him. My heart.

Jensen is so cute trying to deny it’s not him singing that song.  Yeah, it’s you, Jensen. Even your ex agrees it’s you and we bet he knows how your voice sounds in all kinds of situations ;)

we get a tingly feeling so we know it’s you. Jensen’s adorable smile when Misha says that. Aww.

The way they are not even looking at each other but they are seated the exact same way.

Allow me to explain to my friend here. Explains how his parents didn’t know whether he was a boy or a girl. Misha with the steel chair, “when did they figure out that you were a boy?”

How many years did they call you holly?

For six to seven years

Is it just me or is this conversation a flashback of teenage twink-lesbian Jensen years?

Fan asks whether Dean will ever forgive Cas. Watch Misha’s body language, he is trying to pacify himself by rubbing the back of his neck and fumbling with his shirt.

When Jensen says “ No!” without a moment’s hesitation, Misha looks distraught? I don’t know maybe I’m reading too much into this but I feel like this hit too close to home being that they were most likely broken up.

Misha however has a different opinion, “I think he has” 

Jensen says, “Wishful thinking” and that elicits a smile from Misha.

A fan asks about Dean giving Cas the trenchcoat back and things get interesting.  Weirdly, that Jensen can’t say the word gay out loud. He literally uses the word “unmanly” in its stead in the guise of censorship? It’s not a bad word Jensen you can say it. However, Misha and the fans say the word so I’m wondering who is censoring Jensen’s use of that word. He eventually says it but super fast.

Jensen says that saying “I always knew you would come back” is not something he would say to another human being, especially a man. Jesus, there’s nothing wrong with saying that to another human being you care about. He’s the one making it gay. He was extra when answering that one.

They spent one and half hours making that scene just to end up not saying anything and it ended up looking gay anyway. Anyway, that’s interesting.

 Jensen angles his body towards Mish and says in a very low soft and sexy voice “I guess I really hoped that you would come back some day” I would venture to say that Jensen at the moment in the panel was actually saying them to Misha. Who knows though?

They talk about it a whole lot for something that bothered him that much. 

Misha being so excited about recreating a scene when a fan told Jarpad he’s amazing and Jarpad said "you are welcome. 

 “I think I understand what she wants. I’m not sure what she’s gonna get.” This is a very good line Misha. I will be using it often.

The way they awkwardly stand too close and whisper to each other. Umm…what is going on here?

Jensen folds over laughing because of something Misha says. They are back. The tension is almost 90% gone now and they are in their element.

The chaos of recording the alarm ringtone for the fan was just great to watch. They kept getting closer and closer and I think they might have shared spit at that point. Gross….LOL

The way Misha is sitting is he you know.

Jensen asking Misha whether he was saying anything or just screaming while they were recording. I think he just wanted to see Misha smile.

Jensen’s joy when a fan mentions that they have Misha’s résumé.

Jensen saying the word shit made my day. I curse a  lot and it made me feel validated somehow.

Misha calls him dickhead in return and Jensen stops functioning and laughs instead . He also gets all hot and bothered trying to fumble with the lapel of his shirt.  He does this a lot when he is turned on. He has a humiliation kink I think.

They start talking over each other about Misha’s special skills. Looks like Jensen might have known beforehand because he went straight for that. Or maybe he didn’t know but he knew since Misha is a mad genius there must be some amazing things in there. Either way, it was a good moment.

OMG Jensen is so excited and the way he motions to Misha to bring that résumé to him, LOL. This man was thirsty AF.

He even goes down from the stage to meet Misha and invades his personal space trying to reach the résumé. I think this is the moment the tension between them dissipated completely and they were back to some form of normalcy.

Misha holding Jensen’s shoulder trying to get his résumé back. Unsucessfully, I should add.

They read something funny and they fold over laughing and spin around like overjoyed seals. It is far removed from the mollusk family but at least it’s still a sea creature (I don’t know what I’m saying please don’t mind me)

Jensen is still on his knees laughing and can’t get up. As I said, he is being too extra in this panel.

 Misha is trying to talk but they both can’t stop laughing. I think Jensen laughed so hard he got an extra set of abs that day.

Jensen is still laughing and you know what he is laughing at? Misha’s special skills being acting on camera. I mean it’s funny but man, prayforjensen.

 They are still laughing. Jack, help them.

The way Jensen looks at Misha with pure adoration here makes me so happy and reminds me of the fictional characters they played being all heart eyes for each other.

 Misha laughed so hard he cried.

Jensen trying to read the next ‘special skill’ Misha has but he can’t even talk because of how funny he thinks it is. He’s trying so hard not to laugh but he can’t help himself.

Jensen agreeing and also asking the audience to agree that Misha has a knack for certain accents. Accent kink anyone?

 Jensen is so excited when Misha starts Tibetan throating singing and does the unicorn laugh facing away from the crowd. Bet he has experienced Misha’s Tibetan throat singing skills on a personal when they are (loud overhead helicopter noises followed by thunder rumbling)

Jensen falling to the ground after feigning a heart attack once he saw that Misha is a certified EMT. I mentioned before that I honestly, 100% think he wanted mouth to mouth. There’s no other explanation. He could’ve feigned a nose bleed or just about any other illness but he chose to fall on a dirty floor and lay down so Misha could either give him the breath of life or straddle him. Luckily for him his dream came true 7 years later at Jib9 when straddle gate happened. But I digress

Too bad Misha was still mad at him and heartbroken so he kicked him instead.

Jensen knowing that Misha kayaks seems to be part of his personal knowledge. Maybe they did it together sometimes.

Horseback riding. Hmm is it just me or do they seem awkward here?

 Misha is so close to Jensen’s armpits. Must be missing his man’s musk and being held in those muscular arms again. Poor baby.

Misha can’t talk because of how funny he finds bicycle touring. I mean…I don’t see what’s funny but I guess he knows why it’s funny.

Misha laughing and raises his legs because Jensen is elaborating on the bicycle touring. Maybe it’s an inside joke or maybe it’s no longer funny to me because I’ve watched this panel like 5 times.

 I think Jensen’s goal was to see Misha laugh and be happy because he turned to look at Misha who was still laughing hard and the joy on Jensen’s face. Aww.

Misha gravitating towards his man again. He must smell really nice Misha. And those arms. Bet he used to lift you against the wall and (this fucking thunder won’t stop rambling. Are chuck and Amara fighting again?)

Jensen marketing his man’s carpentry skills but then makes sure to make it ‘no homo’ by saying he would never sit on anything Misha has built. Sure Jan. Then he circles back and says that he knows that he can build things.

Misha walks away from him and he looks up to make sure where he is going. Maybe he was afraid Misha was walking out on him. (PTSD from their breakup?)

They mention acting on camera again.

And laugh 

Jensen keeps talking about the acting on camera and watches to see if Misha is still laughing  He still is and Jensen is happy that his baby is happy. He looks at him again and he is still happy that Misha is still happy. Then once the laughter dies down he starts talking about bicycle touring  and checks again to see if Misha is laughing which he is so Jensen throws his head back  unicorn laughing and then looks at Misha again to see that he’s still laughing. Then they look at each other and say something maybe it’s about that was a good laugh. Jensen is wiping tears from his eyes because of how hard he laughed  Misha does the same. That entire thing was insane and they seemed to love it.

 Jensen starts saying that being this happy or goofing around is how they are on set sometimes and have to take a 5-10 minute break and Misha doesn’t seem too happy at the mention of the set. 

Jensen knowing that you can buy résumés on eBay. Did he buy Misha’s and then plant someone in the audience to bring it up or? Okay, yeah I know I’m reaching here but it’s probable.

 I guess my theory wasn’t farfetched because Jensen says that he’s pretty sure that Jarpad put it on eBay the previous night so maybe he is the one who did all that to win Misha back?

Jensen knows the appellation clogging is a stretch. Seems like Misha has told him about it before.

Jensen looking at his watch to see if they have time for  Misha to be telling a story about his high school sweetheart and now wife. I bet he wishes Misha could tell their love story so openly. He can’t stop looking at Misha.

The way Jensen is looking at Misha here. WTF man? He’s literally confused about what the question is.

The personal space question. This whole thing was just so many things. It was awkward, cringey, thirsty, funny.

when the fan asks whether there’s a funny fact between Jensen and Misha. I almost fainted. What? And Jensen repeats it. The two men are so stoic. They are not even looking at each other. They are looking at the fan like the way a statue stares at you, unmoving. Cringe.

The room is so quiet. Poor girl, I hope she didn’t feel awkward afterwards because if it were me, I would’ve cried from how stoic they looked and how quiet everyone was.

How they both scratch themselves, Misha on the head and Jensen on the nose. Maybe the question hit too close to home

Jensen turns to look at Misha as if to say ’help me out here man. We don’t wanna disappoint our fans.”

Misha gets it because he gets up. This whole thing is gold.

The way Jensen breathes out in anticipation. I know it was like they were playing a skit about personal space but why was he breathing like that? Shouldn’t he have been playing it as ‘uncomfortable’ not ‘turned on.’ Boudoir mannerisms.

Moving on Misha is unsure on where to touch Jensen 40.31. This is weird in and of itself because usually, they don’t have a problem touching each other’s faces, tush, eggplants, (jib4 anyone), backs et cetera. But now it’s weird? *cough* breakup *cough*

Misha touches Jensen’s ear and Jensen literally moans. He frigging moans people. In case it is not clear in the video, here is an isolated audio version of it. Jensen is also fumbling with his shirt like he’s all hot and bothered. Just like Misha did earlier. Was Jib3 their couple’s therapy that reminded them how happy and horny they made each other?

Jensen is really not answering the question, to be honest. He’s fumbling for words and trying so very hard to make sense but his word are  incoherent.

Misha going in for the nose dip. I know friends do this all the time but you have to be very close and familiar with someone such as a friend friend or a sibling for you to poke a finger in their nose. I mean noses are slimy and eww…anyway. That happened. They seem so comfortable with it. Jensen I love you but please stop talking.

The way Jensen looks at Misha. He has the cutest smile on his face as if saying thank you for making that fun and making me horny, I still want you.

Misha wiping his pinky that touched Jensen’s nose on his pants. (I wanted to add something disgusting about what heshould’ve done with that pinky but I won’t so let’s move on)

Jensen wiggling his nose.

When Misha suggests that Spn moves to Nickolodeon. Jensen laughs a bit too hard.

Misha talking about spn being a puppet show reminds me of how he mentioned them having a puppet show in Jensen’s backyard after the show is over.

Jensen also saying that in a way spn is a puppet show. I mean is someone making snide comments about how their strings get pulled and sometimes they are not happy about it. Like how they fired his boyfriend. It seems like it’s an inside joke.

They named the plushie Zippy aww :))

For jack’s sake guys, the way they look at each other when they mention that the  résumé was the highlight of the panel.

Jensen saying the more dirt you dig up on Misha, the more rewarded you are. Aww, someone’s trying to win his man back by any means necessary. You go girl…I mean Jensen.

He talks more about how he’s looking forward to next year when fans have more dirt on his friend Misha. Jensen didn’t want to leave the stage, he was lingering so he could spend more time with Misha.

It’s over guys.

Closing Ceremony

I know you didn’t ask for the closing ceremony but here you go. It’s a free gift.

Can I just mention how Jarpad is an overactive puppy? He has to play with anything and everything he finds.

The mc announces Misha twice for some reason. The second time Jensen looks in Misha’s direction with a small smile on his face. He [Jensen] is also chewing vigorously.

Jensen and Jarpad being typical dude bros and karate chop Rich. This is why the difference between his relationship with Jarpad and Misha stands out. He would be too busy making heart eyes to Misha to kick another guy. LoL.

Jensen hulking out when Jarpad is taking a video of everyone. Lol. This video keeps reiterating my point that his relationship with the two men is just different.

Jensen keeps looking in Misha’s direction, Misha who is busy talking to Steve and having fun. Let me also mention Steve is Jensen’s bestie and so are Jarpad and Misha, but I’m sure that Jensen felt some type of way, jealous when they were having so much fun with his man and he couldn’t. Jarpad also takes a while filming Misha for Jensen of course. They remind me of me having a crush back when I was in school. Wait, did Misha look at Jensen? It’s hard to see because the angle of the video is not expansive but I guess he was.

As soon as Jarpad gets back, Jensen takes the camera from him and starts filming fans. I’m sure he just wanted Misha to look at him

Rich mention’s Misha and something about acting on camera and Jensen licks his lips looking at Misha (I think).

Jensen then vigorously grabs the microphone from someone immediately and mention’s Misha. Jarpad’s reaction at that moment tells you everything you need to know about what’s going on between Jensen and Misha. It looks like he is pleading with Jensen in his head saying, “Don’t embarrass yourself bro. Please don’t” but it’s too late.

Jensen again talks about Misha’s résumé and specifically about acting on camera, the thing that made Misha laugh out loud during their panel. Someone’s smitten. Defending his ex-man.

Jarpad goes to whisper something to Misha. And they laugh while Jensen is thanking the jib staff for doing an amazing job. But when he sees the duo laughing, he loses track of thought and says “and they are all getting married”  dude what ??? How do you go from thanking people who worked on the convention and in .1 seconds you are talking about they are all getting married? Who is? Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? No one gets it, he says he’s kidding and gives Jarpad the microphone, spares a glance at Misha and he seems distraught from that moment on. I wish I could see Misha’s face through all this.

He’s glancing in Misha’s direction again. Man’s got it bad. What?! Oh to be loved by Jensen Ackles. Misha must be a prize, I know he is a mad genius and gorgeous and sexy as hell with that golden skin that looks like it was dipped in gold and honey, big blue eyes that are bluer than the bluest blue, but Jensen wtf man? You are in public.

 I think Jarpad is telling Jensen something maybe it has to do with what he and Misha were talking about earlier?

And it’s over people.

Overall, I agree with the breakup theory. I mean the way these two were acting around each other was very strange. If you watch Misha and Jarpad, they seem okay from the opening ceremony up till the end but Jensen and Misha are just being weird.

The panel was mostly fun but their body language told a story that something was definitely going on between them. 

@littlewolf2703

[tillitbreaks]

OMG hi baby i just saw the prompts u asked us to send u and maybe,, 27 with tsukki but if you want make it angst??? tho if you'd prefer to write fluff i understand (^^) thank u angel!

a/n: ahaha hiiii so umm I’m kinda back maybe possibly?? I’m honestly not 100 percent sure bc school is beating my [redacted] but uh I wrote this! i’m a little out of practice so I’m not sure if it’s any good but nonetheless I hope u like it!! ^^

warnings: angstangstangst omg this one hurt me writing it lolol, also there’s a fem!reader for this one I hope that’s okay!

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♡ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Maybe it was he who had let go first. Maybe it was he who had gotten too comfortable, complacent, stopped being a lover and started being a burden.

But those are uncertainties, speculation, and he needs fact, something solid and true to bring him back to reality. And the truth he chokes on like bitter medicine is that you were the one who had called it quits, not him. You were the one that gripped his heart over the line and tore it out with the words I can’t do this anymore, Kei.

Your back is the one he saw drawing further and further along the road you two used to take together and seeing is believing, after all. Your contact is the one he’s staring at, your smiling face staring back. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it, he doesn’t know why he’s doing much of anything, really, when you’re not there to be with him. To give him sharp, warning looks whenever his jokes go a bit too far and to hold his hand when he can’t be as cold and detached as he tries to be.

You had seen all those soft, raw parts of him, had wrapped yourself around them like armor and now that you’re gone he feels cold and exposed. He hates it- he hates you for making him feel so vulnerable, so weak.

Maybe that’s why he’s still staring at your contact. Even though it’s been three months since you broke up he still hasn’t changed it yet, my one and only y/n is still your contact name (you had changed it, from the simple y/n it had been before). It’s ridiculous, but still not nearly as ridiculous as his thumb hitting the call button.

“Hello?” Is your groggy response, your voice still thick with sleep.

Right, it’s nearly four in the morning. Time seems to slip past him these days.

He doesn’t say anything- he doesn’t know what to say, a foreign feeling that leaves him floundering a bit.

“...Kei? Is that you?” Your voice is softer now, soft in the way only you can be when his name falls from your lips.

“Yeah.”

“Are you alright? Did you need something?”

“I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror.”

It’s stupid, such a stupid thing to say in the current situation but he can’t seem to feel the slightest bit embarrassed, he can’t seem to feel much of anything without you to remind him how.

“Kei. You can’t keep doing this.” You breathe out, and your voice isn’t as soft now - it’s impatient. “This is the third time this week.”

“I know.” He chokes through gritted teeth, and he does know. He knows a lot of things, really, but just because he knows doesn’t mean he wants to accept it.

“I-I’m with someone else, Kei, and I really like him.” Your voice is gentle, careful, but no amount of care could make plunging a knife through someone’s chest feel like a pinch, a bit of pressure until it‘s over. “This has to stop.”

“Who?” It’s the only question that comes to mind, the only thing he can think to ask, and he almost laughs at himself, at the pathetic, pining mess you’ve reduced him to. He’s never at a loss for words, there’s never not a witty remark perched at the edge of his tongue, but there isn’t now. Even as he wracks his brain for something to say that’ll save the few shreds of dignity he has left, he comes up empty.

“Kei, do you really want to know that?” You’re just trying to save him any further heartache, but he hates the patronizing tone of your voice, like you’re talking to a child crying over spilled milk.

“I asked, didn’t I? So clearly, yes I want to know.” He snaps, anger flaring in his belly. You only sigh on the other end of the line, hardly registering the harshness of his tone.

“Fine, since you’re so dying to know.” You hiss, and there’s a shuffling noise on the other end of the phone before another voice, deep and equally thick with sleep, rumbles in Tsukishima’s ear. “Hello?”

He feels like he’s suffocating, like the air was ripped from his lungs in his shock, because he knows that voice. He knows a lot of things, after all, and he knows that that voice belongs to none other than Kageyama Tobio, the boy you had told him not to worry about.

We’re just friends, Kei. You had reassured him after he caught a glimpse of the numerous texts you had been exchanging with the setter. There’s nothing to worry about, I promise.

I promise. He does laugh now, a bitter, nasty thing that burns in his throat like bile. “Of fucking course it’s you. I should’ve known.” He spits into the receiver.

“Tsukishima?” Is all Kageyama says in response, sounding confused. “Why are you calling my girlfriend at 3 in the morning?”

My girlfriend.

Unable to take a second more, Tsukishima quickly hangs up, launching his phone across the room. He tucks his knees to his chest in an attempt to stop his chest from heaving, but it’s not working, and hot, salty tears spill from his eyes despite his desperate attempts to keep himself together.

He’s not sure how long he stays like that - a sobbing wreck, but eventually his breathing calms and his cheeks dry and a heavy feeling of resignation settles in his chest where there was only pain and rage before.

He knows what he has to do. He knows a lot of things after all, and now he knows that it’s time to move on.

[darling-has-a-smol-heart]

🌻 tell me whatever you'd like, i would love to listen <33

THANK YOU HACE I LOVE YOU SM--

After ages of thinking, i decided i want to nerd about Bojack horseman.

You don't need to read all of this essay, just the chance to actually PUT these thoughts somewhere makes me happy <3

*rubs hands*

OK SO

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE CHARACTER ARCS

I am trash at wording so don't be surprised if this is poorly redacted.

(A LOTTA SPOILERS AHEAD)

Bojack is by far the most relatable character in the show, for me at least. It's funny how this series teached me how to make relatability via struggles. I've never seen such an accurate representation of depression, and some episodes hit real close to home- for example, the "Stupid piece of sh-t" monologue at the beginning of the episode of the same name. They don't dramatize it, like OTHER SHOWS DO- (Yes 13ReasonsWhy I'm looking at you), and paint an accurate picture of how this illness holds Bojack back from being the better person he wants to be. His relationship with his mom was... Interesting to say the least.

The old Sugarman Place episode was haunting. Showing how the abuse from Beatrice's father shaped her into the person she ended up being. And how the cycle of abuse painfully repeats for generations. Her brother's death, her having to deal with his mother's grief and depression alone since her asshole dad didn't do sh-t to help the family move on after Crackerjack's death, and her mother's eventual and tragic lobotomy.

Just,,, Jesus this show.

Another thing I love about it, is how it made me understand that it was okay to emphasize with Beatrice, but one needed to understand that it didn't justify all the horrible abuse SHE put on Bojack, forever hammering in his head the "Don't stop dancing" motto.

Now, back to Bojack cuz BOY this is going to be a long essay.

The moment i knew this show was special was in season 2's "Escape from LA" another 'fuck-your-mind-up-and-move-on' episode. The things Bojack did were so terrible that- I mean i couldn't believe it. I was thinking all along "Nah, he wouldn't do it, he's the protagonist, he can't be THAT bad-"

AND THEM BOOM.

The mf almost sleeps with a 17-year-old and the show slaps you in the face with the realization that THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED-

Something that makes me laugh are the consequences, not because they're stupid or anything like that. But were painfully accurate.

I think my mind was as anxious as Bojack's. Once the ACTUAL truth about his involvement in Sarah Lynn's death, and the cycles of abuse of power in his relationships came to the public eye, came what I expected: people actively shutting him out, insulting him, giving him those horrid judging looks,,, urgh- i felt that. (That second interview that revealed everything could have gone better, but it also could have gone worse. They didn't even explore the Escape from LA incident, or Gina's strangling in Bojack's opioid lash out.)

But yeah, once after the events of The view from halfway down (THAT I'M NOT EVEN GOING TO COVER CUZ OH GOD I WON'T FINISH) things start,,, looking up? Sure, Bojack gets arrested for trespassing (even though he affirms that he thinks it was for a but if everything) and he spends a good time there with the other inmates, they participate in plays, and even Bojack himself admits that he would go as a volunteer once he was out of jail.

I thought the consequences were going to be WAY worse, but when you look back at it you go: "Huh, well that wasn't that bad-"

Now, the final episode.

I LOVE the relationship between BJ and Mr. Peanut butter. The lad finally decides to dedicate time to himself and to not to worry about his marriages. You just gotta love this dog.

Then, Princess Caroline.

I LOVE HER OK?

Her entire character arc about being a mother and finally letting go of his codependency on Bojack was magical.

Seeing the roots of her impulsive "i have to take care of everything" attitude through the 6 seasons allowed me to see her grow, change. Seeing her triumph and fail (very painfully sometimes, man).

In the final scene with her it's so wonderful to see Bojack cheering on her, and Princess Caroline openly admitting she won't work with him anymore. And both just, dancing peacefully to the vals, accepting that their relationship is over with such big smiles... *Sobs*

God. This. SHOW.

And now, good boy Todd.

I kind of relate to him too, and it gives me hope to see him being so independent after everything.

After Bojack ruined his Rock Opera so he wouldn't leave, after he also rescued him from that Improv cult, after all of the good, and ALSO the bad. He leaves.

He goes to make his new life, with his girlfriend, in a new apartment, and now in a good relationship with his mom. It's so wholesome I love Todd sm-

And even after actively pushing back from Bojack, he's still there to support him and cheer him up, even backing off so he doesn't get pulled into that again.

His words in his final scene always stuck with me "It was nice while it lasted right?"

Perfect.

And now,,,, Diane.

Holy cow where do I even start.

I do agree with most fans about how she wasn't "as good" in the first season, and how that changed in season 6, where we see her in a more domestic environment.

Now, I always loved Diane. I emphasized a lot with her struggles of being a writer (those episodes made ma laugh), not appreciating the little things we have, and wanting to do great things but- not- quite reaching it.

I always found interesting how she never let go of Bojack until it was "too late"

They always brought up the worse in each other, two people with the same unhealthy coping mechanisms isn't exactly a good combination.

I teared up when she moved out with Guy and actually learned to trust the feeling of safety, after a whole life of being used to abuse, that was everything that made sense to her. But it didn't have to stay like that. It was hard for her to start taking her antidepressants again but she did and she got better! (Shame Bojack pushed her into breaking point-)

The last scene, of her, of Bojack, of the entire series, I always rewatch "Nice while it lasted" for this scene only.

She confronts him on how he called her before he almost drowned in a pool. She thought he was dead, she thought it was her fault for not saving him. But as Bojack said "It was never her job". But he always made her feel like it was.

Oof... You can't actually fix that, can you?

Diane's "You can be grateful for the people around you, even if they weren't meant to be in your life forever" hit me like a truck. It actually helped me to learn to cut ties, that it was okay to be grateful, to not forgive horrible things, to move on and wish the other person the very best.

And then they sit, staring at the night sky, Catherine Feeny's Mr. Blue starts playing.

And I am bawling my eyes out.

That moment of silence, when there's nothing to say, when you both understand that this is it, and there's nothing else to do than to admire the night.

God. THIS. SHOWWWW,,,,

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

And lastly, thank you so much for this opportunity Jace, i love you so much <3

This series has helped me a lot (like you have <33) and I'm just so happy to share my nerdiness of this show <3

[hollypastl]

the disappearance of [REDACTED] ch.1

miya atsumu/reader

Summary: "MISSING: MIYA Y/N" It reads. Underneath is a picture of yourself. Age, height, weight. Everything important is listed. How embarrassing.

Genre: angst/mystery

Warnings: missing persons, time skip spoilers

Notes: crossposted on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726002/chapters/70432233 

chapter one: love is so short. forgetting is so long

He wakes up painfully aware that your weight is missing from his arms. It’s a little unusual. Most mornings, you two end up dragging each other out of bed. He’s not a morning person and you’re more than content to occupy him with your entire body weight. The flutter of your breath on his face and the gentle, but firm way you play with his fingers is soothing. Eventually, responsible thought wins out and one of you will bribe the other with a hot shower or an omelette. Usually.

But not today. His feet land on the floor after a good horizontal stretch and Atsumu yawns. He squints at the clock. 10:24 AM. “Hey, babe? Didja screw with my phone?” He calls, getting up from bed and heading towards the kitchen.

There’s a muffin and a bottle of iced coffee sitting on the kitchen counter, which he hungrily digs into. A part of him is resigned and ready to get caught red handed, scarfing down something which you were saving , but the second the banana flavor hits his tongue he knows it’s intended for him. Your distaste for the flavor is something even ‘Samu hasn’t been able to sway.

His eyes wander around the messy apartment you two share while he lazily munches away on his muffin and throws back the drink. Even through the mess, his gaze lands on a neatly folded slip of paper that’s stuck to the fridge with a Hello Kitty magnet. (And as much as he insisted to everyone ever invited over that it was yours, you both knew it was his. A leftover remnant of his childhood collection of random festival prizes.)

It’s a reach from his seat at the counter to the fridge, but he makes it without standing up or tipping over his chair. The coffee still slips from his grip and shatters on the floor.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

The safety hazard is ignored as he forces himself to reread it slower.

You’ve signed your name at the bottom, but the ink is blurred. It’s just a single drop, and he’s always known you to shed tears at the drop of a hat. He wonders what could’ve restrained you to not have wet stains all over the page.

It’s a joke.

It has to be.

The wedding ring on his finger suddenly feels tighter, like his blood flow is being constricted.

Your phone number is his first call.

He doesn’t know what he expects, but the vibrations of your phone on the table by the front door isn’t it. Whatever. Move on. He calls your parents house, but they haven’t heard from you. And you’re not at work either. In fact, when the boss gets on the phone, he explains he got a text early this morning that you quit out of the blue.

A myriadic list of other people to question is filling up in his head but he can’t quite bring himself to call.

The Jackal’s manager is buzzing him next. It’s rude, but he sends him straight to voicemail. Who cares that he’s late to practice?

He’s much too busy wondering where you’ve disappeared to.

Which is how he ends up nervously twiddling his thumbs in a police precinct.

The officer is rude. Actually, he’s not. He just thinks the guy is being a jackass because he’s not being particularly helpful.

“We’ll be happy to search for signs she was taken against her will, but judging by the note she left and that you found no signs of a break-in, it sounds like she left of her own volition.” And the absolute gut punch of, “Miya-san… Are you sure she didn’t run off with another man?”

He can’t wrap his head around it. The detective recognizing him barely makes him feel better. “Miya… MiyA-SENSHU? We’ll have our best investigators on this, I promise you! Can I get you a cup of coffee? Did you walk here? Someone will drive you home.”

He watches absently as the officer who drove him back pokes around the apartment. Pictures are snapped and locks are inspected. Your hairbrush is bagged as DNA evidence and Atsumu silently notices your sneakers and his favorite hoodie gone from the closet.

It doesn’t seem real. You should be on your lunch break right now, sending him a text or even calling to ask if he wants to go visit his parents next week.

When the man finally leaves, Atsumu’s pocket starts buzzing once again.

His breath catches when it turns out to be your phone and not his. The number isn’t listed and he stops breathing entirely at that. A desperate part of him hopes you’re on the other end of the line as he brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“This is Kitano Medical Imaging Center, I have information regarding scans for Miya Y/N.”

“She’s-” He chokes from the lack of air. Isn’t breathing supposed to be something he doesn’t have to think about anymore? “She’s not available at the moment. M’her husband though, I can pass it along.”

They’re silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, but I’m unable to release medical information to anyone but the patient at this time. Thank you and good day, sir.”

He chews on his bottom lip at that. The hell did that mean? What name had they given? Kitano? Osaka General was closer.

And what about these scans you had gotten done?

Knocking at his door busts him out of his head. What was it now? He considers ignoring it but, “C’mon, open up ‘Tsum-tsum!” Bokuto isn’t one to be easily discouraged.

But the shattered glass still lying on his kitchen floor steals his attention and mutes the shouting, if only slightly. Bokuto will have questions that Atsumu doesn’t care to or just doesn’t have the answers to. Instead, he lets his teammate tire himself out while he sits at the kitchen counter, staring blankly at the hazard he has yet to clean up.

He shows up to training half an hour early the next morning, getting a headstart on lat pull-downs before anyone else has even arrived. The team trickles in slowly and it would be a lie to say he didn’t notice the little glances they keep giving him. Everyone is on edge and the scowl marring his face probably doesn’t help the mood.

“Whaddya’ mean it’s written all over m’face?” He frowned, shouldering his bag.

“Atsumu.” Even though your back was to him, he could tell you were rolling your eyes as you locked up the gym. “You’re chronically easy to read.”

“Am not!”

You rested a hand on your hip, narrowing your eyes. “C’mon, I think it’s cute how you wear your heart on your sleeve,” The door clicked shut and you swung around, keys and lanyard in hand. “If you want, I’ll let you in on the secret of how I mastered my poker face.” You offered, elbowing him.

“Hah! Yeah, right! Last week ya cried when Kita-senpai said ya weren’t good at cleanin’ water bottles.”

It was true, you had burst into tears. “Please. Fake crying is a much more advanced skill. I’m talkin’ about a good ‘ole blank and neutral expression—”

“Wait, ya mean ya did that on purpose?” He threw an incredulous look your way.

You rolled your eyes once more. He was so naive. “Senpai did end up washing the whole crate for me, didn’t he?”

Atsumu stared at you, jaw slack.

“Atsumu?” You waved a hand in front of your face.

“Atsumu, you good?”

“Huh?”

“I asked why you went AWOL yesterday.” Meian’s brow furrowed and Atsumu forced out an answer he had decided hours ago.

“Just a family issue, sorry I didn’t get the chance to call, man.”

He could almost hear your voice now, congratulating him on keeping cool. He feels sick. Like a kid who’s eaten too much for their lil’ stomach to handle and is about to vomit all over the floor. That exact thing had happened to ‘Samu once. It was someone’s birthday in their middle school class —he couldn’t remember who— and the idiot had eaten five pieces of cake while nobody was looking.

It wouldn’t have been a problem on it’s own. The glutton wouldn’t dare waste food by throwing it up. The problem came when he washed it all down with spiked punch.

The class had gotten in so much trouble for that.

Nobody had seen it happen and the culprit wouldn’t come forward. The entire class was forced to endure cleaning duty for a month and they were banned from participating in the sports festival. He had been so pissed.

Now it’s just a bad memory in the bad of his mind. Thoughts absentmindedly trailing back to you, (like they always seem to) he wonders where you had been during that incident. You hadn’t been friends with him yet. He didn’t even know your first name at that point. But you had been in his class. He distinctly remembers arbitrarily voting you for class rep because you were pretty.

And, now that he really thinks about it, he remembers seeing your arm slowly rise.

“It was me. I did it. It was a really bad joke and I’m sorry.”

He’d been sitting a couple rows behind you, so he couldn’t see the look on your face, but he knew it must’ve been painted with shame.

Nobody believed you. Without missing a beat, the assistant principal had kindly told you it was noble to try and take the fall. Your friend had tugged on the edge of your skirt, beckoning for you to sit down. Just like that, it was over. He’s surprised he can recall it. The whole thing, start to finish, must’ve been less than fifteen seconds. He doubts anyone else remembers but you.

He considers your words from back then. How you had said it was just a bad joke.

His immature ass, having stomach pains from laughing so hard, would beg to differ. Your jokes never fall flat.

He finishes his set and moves to the leg press.

Desperately, he needs to believe the past twenty four hours have been a joke. That you just left to visit a friend, or needed some space. But the items on the list keep adding up.

His eyes start tearing up and he wipes the sweat from his forehead.

[hippomanblog]

Three Houses Characters, Ranked On Their Likelihood To Dab: Part III: Golden Deer and Church

Everyone, I have done it.  They tried to hunt me down, planted explosives in my dab lab and bees in my car, but I escaped the bombs and befriended the bees and now I’m here, here to present you with the final installment in my magnum opus, a comprehensive ranking of how likely each playable character in FE3H is to perform The Dab. Perhaps you thought I would stop at the Leicester Alliance and its students, surely finishing on the upbeat note of lighthearted Claude and pals, but much like von Riegan himself, von Hippoman has a scheme.  Like a [SPOILER REDACTED] fired from [SPOILER REDACTED], I’m gonna blow your minds with all the Church of Seiros aligned characters too.  Because you deserve to know.  Let’s save Fodlan together.

Minor Spoilers For Post-Timeskip Will Follow!

The list, as always, is Canon.  Thank you.

Claude: 14/10: The Master Tactician, the Golden Deer, the Schemer, the Dabmaster.  There are many challengers to the throne, but Claude von Riegan sits comfortably upon it, arm bent, face in elbow, unleashing the one and only God-Shattering Dab.

(gravityemblem314 suggested a ranking of 69/10 for Claude, but please, this is science,not NICE science.  @camelpimp​ mentioned that Claude likely instituted a mandatory pre-battle dab for the Golden Deer, that’s also canon.)

Alois: 12/10: The kids...they love to dab.  Alois wants to be hip and cool with the kids, and if his jokes aren’t enough to do it, surely his sweet dabs will do it!  Especially if he mixes them together.  He can frequently be seen in the dining hall, asking for some extra sauce on his meals.  When the students ask how much, he replies “Oh, just a...DAB” and he JUST FUCKIN’ LETS LOOSE.

Hilda: 10/10: Claude’s faithful (if not dependable) sidekick and friend shares in his affinity for the dab, but not quite to the same degree.  Claude’s sick dabs require a level of effort frankly beyond the Goneril scion, so she’s more into casual usage.  That said, it’s A LOT of usage. Raphael: 9/10: The big man of the Golden Deer loves to dab.  He’s absolutely jacked, so the sheer power contained in those moves could shatter stone, and once did, resulting in a renovation of Raph’s dorm room and a migraine for Seteth.  Despite his enthusiasm, he’s very, very bad at them, but nobody wants to point it out.  He’s just so happy.

Flayn: 8/10: Flayn is absolutely in for this.  She is totally, 100%, definitely a Young Human after all and this is what Young Humans do, they dab. Flayn does it all the time, often in a big circle with Annette, Caspar, and Claude.  Seteth is yearning for the sweet embrace of death.

Catherine: 7/10: She’s usually pretty jazzed about something, and all that excess energy has to go somewhere.  One time she impaled a man with Thunderbrand mid-dab but she doesn’t like to talk about it.

Manuela: 7/10: Manuela is at a crossroads.  On one hand, it’s not the classiest thing in the world, and she’s a pretty classy lady with some standards, you know?  But on the other hand, the students love it and they do say it makes her look younger.  The debate is meaningless because when she gets drunk she just lets loose anyway.

Leonie: 6/10: High energy Leonie is always ready for a challenge, and this counts.  She’d never seen a “dab” before coming to Garreg Mach, but it’s so much more fun than the usual high society shit people try to foist on her so hey, why not?  Plus, she heard from Byleth that Jeralt knows how to hit the dab too.  He was just covering a cough, though.  He can’t convince her of that.

(thanks to kokorikopi for assisting in this fascinating Eisner Family Trivia)

Ignatz: 5/10: Sure, Ignatz never really had any interest in dabbing.  It seemed sorta silly to him.  But Raphael kept begging him to try it, and he wasn’t going to turn down such a pleasant request.  So he did, and wait a minute.  You could do something artsy with this, right?  Ignatz is in search of a dab that is truly effervescent, an aesthetically pleasing pose to delight the senses and advance the culture of Fodlan through its grace.  Godspeed, you young visionary.

(Raphael and Ignatz ideas contributed by gardenvarietyfox!)

Seteth: 5/10: Seteth got caught sneezing by Caspar once and he started chanting “DAB SETETH DAB”.  It became a monastery meme for a while and Seteth could not leave his office without being hounded to perform the accursed dance.  Flayn likes it, though, so he doesn’t mind.  Too much.  Okay he minds a lot.

Lorenz: 4/10: At first Lorenz Hellman Gloucester would rather have been eviscerated by a weedwhacker than do something so base as dab.  However, through his experiences with his classmates, he came to realize that the dab is a powerful diplomatic tool.  It speaks much with little effort and helps to connect with commoners across Fodlan.  He still sucks at it but he’s trying.

Cyril: 4/10: Cyril wasn’t born in Fodlan, and frankly he finds their trends weird and doesn’t really care for them.  But they’ll usually start cheering and get out of his way to let him get to cleaning if he does it, so hey, when in Rome...

Lysithea: 3/10: Lysithea is already extremely short, meaning her arms have little dab power.  Whenever she dabs, someone calls it “cute” and it absolutely infuriates her.  So dabbing is for fools, obviously.  That said...after defeating a certain mounted masked marauder...she may have let herself indulge a little bit.  Don’t tell anyone.

Hanneman: 2/10: Ain’t no Crest of Dabbylad now is there?

Marianne: 2/10: Oh, poor Marianne.  She’s having a bad day, and a bad week, and a pretty crummy year.  She doesn’t feel like she has anything to dab about, and if she does, everyone will probably just laugh at her and point their fingers at the bad dabber.  Thankfully, the other Deer are there for her, and they gave her time.  Eventually, slowly and carefully, she did it.  It was terrible, but only one person told her that.  Hilda Goneril was later seen tossing a mysterious sack into the Garreg Mach pond.

Shamir: 1/10: Catherine won’t stop doing it.  She just will not stop doing it, and she’s so absolutely sick of it.  She’s this close to shooting an arrow through one of her partner’s arms the next time she does it.  Seiros hasn’t done anything about it yet and that’s why Shamir is an atheist.

Gilbert: 1/10: Dab?  What is that?  Does my daughter do that?  Hmm.  Didn’t get it from me.  I ABANDONED HER. And so we reach the end.  Through a comprehensive knowledge of the cast’s dabability, surely they can find a way to put aside their differences and work together to make a brighter future for Fodlan. By reading these posts, you have unlocked the Golden Ending.  I had it all along.  Thank you and goodnight.

[devilsknotrp]

Congratulations, Ruby! You have been accepted for the role of Connie Romano (FC: Natasha Liu Bordizzo). My God, you understand Connie perfectly. Everything, from your writing sample to your headcanons, fundamentally demonstrated how much thought you’d put into her and how she will relate to the other characters in play. I think you emphasised her softness - and though it would have been too easy to make her too gentle, you struck just the right balance between her sensitivity for others and her quiet resolve. Connie might be uncertain, but she’s not always a pushover. You also dealt with the theme of peer pressure really well. We’d love to see her continue to struggle with that as the group develops, especially because, at some point, she will have to make a choice... Altogether a wonderful application. Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Ruby Age: 19 Pronouns: She/her Timezone: NZST Activity estimation: I’m enrolled full-time in university so my workload fluctuates week-to-week. I don’t like to really estimate activity because I can’t make promises that it will always remain the same. But I do strive to be active to some extent at least once a day. Triggers: [Redacted]

IN CHARACTER

Name: Connie Denise Romano constancy  // devoted to Bacchus // from Rome Age (DD/MM/YYY): 20th of July 1978. CANCER sun, AQUARIUS moon, SCORPIO rising, VIRGO venus. Gender: Cis female Pronouns: She/her Sexuality: Bisexual. Connie has uncomplicated feelings about her sexuality. It has always just been something that has existed within her, devoid of complication, unlike much else of her psyche; she is constantly plagued by complicated feelings about everything else. But she has always known she’s had crushes on girls and on boys. It’s not something she’s ever come out and said to anyone, but she thinks she’d be at peace with it if it came out, or if she dated a girl. It doesn’t seem like a secret that needs to be hidden, but she hides it anyway. She hides a lot of things.

Occupation: High School Senior; aspiring NYU theatre applicant – eventually she wants to be a theatre actress, possibly film but she has no real overwhelming desire for the need to be seen like that. She definitely wants to venture into filmmaking and screenwriting; she has hoards over unfinished manuscripts stuffed in her drawers, most are roles she writes for herself.

Connection to Victim: Brian Goode had always been a bright kid. Connie remembers him in snippets: riding his bike down the street, or down at the arcade, or talking with David. That’s the real thread of connection she has to Brian. David. Connie has always liked David. He’s always kind and she sits next to him in a few of the classes they share together. She had only seen him as a sort-of-maybe friend until he asked her out. Taken by surprise, she had awkwardly turned him down, fumbling her way through an excuse. Connie had still felt too new then, too hurt by everything that had gone down, and David was sweet; she wasn’t ready for sweet. But then it was like he was everywhere, and now she can’t help but look for him in every crowd, or think about what he might say about something. It’s only a small crush, but it makes her feel young and alive and a little shy. Now she feels like they share something. There are moments since Brian’s disappeared that she’s thought about telling David she understands, but that would mean opening up about the gruesome crime, and that’s the secret she holds closest to her chest. Instead, she bakes cookies for his family and has spent time trying to be there for him. As a friend. But she can’t shake the feeling that Brian’s disappearance is connected to her own family’s murder. She’s terrified of what it all means, and she’s determined to help discover what really happened.

Alibi: What were they doing the afternoon Brian Goode disappeared?

Connie had been in the theatre room when Brian Goode disappeared.

“What were you doing?”

“I was practicing my monologue. Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte.”

Pause. “It’s Catherine’s bit. You know, I wouldn’t be you for a kingdom!”

“Was anyone else there?”

“It was just me.”

“And what time did you arrive? Did anybody see you? When did you leave? Can anyone confirm that you were there?”

“I must have gotten there at around 2? I’m not sure, sorry. I think I got home around 8? My brother saw me. Em. He was there when I got home. I don’t know if anyone else saw me,” Connie shrugs, “maybe a teacher? I’m sure someone would have been working.”

Connie had been on a bus back from Sioux Falls. Two days earlier she had lied to Emilio and told him she was going to be staying at a friend’s house, throwing out Kelly Shah’s name. Then she hopped on a bus and headed back to her hometown. In the mail she had received a curious post-card, a simple I’m so sorry, baby in sloppy handwriting she could only guess was her mothers. Her bones trembling she had made the snap decision to go back to Sioux Falls. It had her grandma’s old address scribbled as the return address. Her mom must want her to come home. And Connie needed answers, security, her mom.

But Sioux Falls didn’t provide any answers; just dead-ends. Her mom wasn’t there and all that lingered was an air of misery. She walked around the block she grew up and bought a milkshake from Bugsy’s and cried behind her school’s old shed. It felt like a million years ago that she had lived there. And it felt like just yesterday her parents had been brutally slaughtered.

She had gotten on the first bus back to Devil’s Knot after that. She was never going to know what had happened to her parents. She was never going to know where her mom went. She was never going to fully belong to this world. But she could go home and laugh until her stomach hurt with Em.

Her bus had pulled up in Devil’s Knot at around 6PM. When had Brian gone missing again? Connie hadn’t gone home straight away. She got off the bus and headed out to “The Clearing” – she had been to countless parties there, fooled around with boys she wasn’t interested in, spent hours practicing her scripts. The creepiness that lived there felt safe to her, somehow. It felt like a loose connection to her own trauma. She couldn’t visit the site her parents had been murdered at, but she could find solace in the space another gruesome crime had taken place. She was a little entranced by the mystery of the case, wanting desperately to be able to bury herself in the facts and knowledge of the Silverman legend since she couldn’t know the details of her own.

Connie didn’t spend long there. She sat on one of the couches and cried until she felt okay enough to clip on her happy, cheerful, popular girl façade and she went home. All the lights were off by the time she returned to their little suburban home. Em tried. But sometimes Connie just wanted to scream out at the absurdity of trying to build a life while they ignored their past. He wasn’t home. He didn’t see her coming in. But it didn’t matter, he’d protect her.

Connie doesn’t know why she lies but she can’t take it back once it’s out of her mouth. Maybe it’s to protect her mom, or maybe it’s to protect her past, or maybe it is to protect herself. Wouldn’t people see her differently if they knew the truth of where she had come from? Couldn’t they suspect her? She knew how mass hysteria worked. She was an intelligent girl.

Faceclaim: Natasha Liu Bordizzo

WRITING SAMPLE

Connie’s got her legs splayed out on the floor of the drama room. Her knee jutted out at an awkward angle, her thigh starting to cramp. Fingers raking through sheets upon sheets of discarded scripts. All the words are blurring together. Either she can’t concentrate or she’s started to cry. Connie feels so detached from her body that she couldn’t tell you which one it is.

It makes her feel a little sick, being squashed up in this room. It used to be her sanctuary. If Devil’s Knot was starting to overwhelm her, the past sneaking up in her mind, her friends starting to drive her stir-crazy – she could always escape here. An easy lie tossed over her shoulder, ‘You know I have to practice!’ and then she’d indulge herself in reading scripts, curled up in the disgusting bacteria-ridden green couch in the corner. The room was nearly always empty, save for a few other theatre kids who’d come and go from time-to-time. But Connie had started to learn the hours in which they came and went, always aiming to be there by herself. From 11am to 1PM was usually a safe bet if she wanted some time for herself.

But now she’s sitting on the cold floor and her stomach is doing somersaults. She’s almost certain she’s going to be sick soon. Her breakfast making its way back up. She can’t stop thinking about Brian. That cute little kid just gone. His name on the tip of everyone’s tongues, the stifling silence around his disappearance, the haunted clutch-hold his presence has had on this town. Connie knows all the rumours about the past tragedies, she had studied up on the Silverman case as best as she could before arriving, and then the gaps had been filled in by eager classmates ready to divulge all the sick, twisted mysteries Devil’s Knot had to cough up.

She sees her Dad’s mangled body. Her stepmom’s headstone. Her mom’s own vanishing from her life. Connie knows all about tragedies and mysteries and satanic ritual cult bullshit. Part of her feels like a bad luck magnet. She’s been reading the same line on the script Mrs Rubens had written for her for half-an-hour. Fed up, she crumples it up in her hand and throws it across the room. Some days she wishes it was acceptable to screech until her lungs hurt. Connie has this sudden overwhelming desire to douse herself in gasoline and sink under water. To throw her body across the room and see how it lands. But instead she presses her lips together and lifts her body up off of the ground. Does a quick stretch to release the tension building in her muscles and fetches the screwed up piece of paper from across the other side of the room.

She just hopes Brian isn’t suffering. She wonders if it would be better if he was found dead or alive. Is he being tortured? She’s read all the books on satanic cults. She’s not sure if she believes in any of what they say – the sex orgies and torture and animal sacrifices. It was all started from puritanical religious ideologies. But part of her does wonder. She wasn’t allowed to see the case files from her parents murder but she knows it was something satanic. Connie shakes her head in an effort to rid her head of the thoughts, threading her fingers through her hair and brushing out any knots that have gathered. Shut up, brain! She wants to yell. It’s always going too fast for her liking. Her brain is still stuck on Brian as she goes to twist open the door to leave. He was such a sweet kid, and even if he wasn’t, no-one deserves to go missing. It’s horrific.

She checks the time on one of the clocks hanging up on the wall before she leaves. If she hurries she might catch some of her crowd still at Patsy’s Diner. She doubts she could keep any food down, but they’re all expecting her. Connie doesn’t know if she can handle having to talk about the case like it’s an enthralling gossip fest tonight, sometimes she wonders if her friends have any hearts at all or if they’re all made of ice. But she plasters on a bright mega-watt, charming smile and works herself into a happy state of mind.

It’s easy to pretend. But she wonders how long she has left until she falls apart at the seams she’s meticulously stitched herself together with. It’s starting to feel like any minute this wild wolf within her will be unleashed. The days are become longer, more tightly coiled around her, and there’s still no sign of a missing child. It’s not normal. Connie isn’t sure how to act like everything can still be the same when something so sinister has taken place…again. In this town, in her life.

She pulls a piece of gum out of her bag, a simple black square shoulder bag she’d picked up as a treat for herself last week, before all this chaos had been unleashed. Carefully she unwraps the mint flavoured piece of gum and pops it in her mouth, throwing the wrapper away in the nearest bin. The act of chewing soothes her nerves, the pop of flavour giving her something more interesting to taste than the rising vomit trying to push itself out of her.

ANYTHING ELSE?

NOTE: Since a lot of Connie’s life is entwined with Emilio’s, I’ve taken a lot of liberties in imagining what her childhood and present day living situation etc. looks like! This would be fleshed out better in conjunction with Emilio’s player & story, obviously, if I was accepted.

BIOGRAPHY.

BEFORE.

Connie Denise Romano was born on the twentieth of July, 1978, as the clock struck a quarter past three in the afternoon, in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Her parents were on the brink of a divorce, Grease was still on top of the charts and the stage had been set for her arrival.

Her birth mom was a loose cannon, a firecracker, a live-wire. Connie remembers being enamoured by her, wide-eyed, watching her mom flit around their living room in her dressing gown, belting out Call Me by Blondie, drenched head to toe from the rain outside. But she also remembers the screams in the middle of the night, the long periods of time where she’d disappear for, the terse fights between her parents in their living room at one in the morning. By the time Connie was six her mom, Annie, had left for good.

Emilio will never understand that part of her: the sliver of Annie that lives underneath her skin, that aches to come crawling out on the middle of the stage, the screeched monologues where she shuts her eyes and channels the energy of the woman who’s DNA runs through her. Emilio’s mom is lovely, he’ll never wonder if she was responsible for the murders. It haunts her at night sometimes, a bubbling question mark underneath the surface of her skin. Her memories are clipped, dream-like, half the time she wonders if Annie wasn’t even half the nightmare she remembers her to be; sometimes she’s curious if she was worse, and sometimes she swears these bursts of anger that flare up within her are from her.

It was just Connie and her dad for a while then. He was her best friend, her confidant, her hero who could do no wrong. He tried to teach her to be fierce and resilient in the face of danger, strong and confident and sure of herself, but that’s just not the kind of kid she was. Connie was shy, she was bright and personable around the right people, but she always fit in better at the adult table than the kids table. Clinging to her Dad’s leg at parties, mumbling her name when asked, declining the offer of a birthday party. He enrolled her in drama classes to help ease her out of her shell, or maybe, because he was scared she had that same pent up energy bubbling under her and he wanted her to have a healthy outlet to channel it into. It didn’t matter, she fell into the role of theatre like she was born for the stage.

He remarried when she was ten. Connie had craved a mom so badly, she had spent every night praying at the altar of her bed to stars for one. This intense, sensitive desire that ran through her to be loved. Julia was kind and she took her shopping and they had movie dates, just the two of them, together on the weekends but Connie could still sense the distance. Julia was marrying her Dad, not her. She liked being an easy kid, knew even then how to shut up and play the right part. She went along with being tolerated and not loved. It was an easy role to play.

Her journey into adolescence was rocky. Connie didn’t know how to fit in at first. Her mind has always jumped miles ahead, inquisitive and adept at reading her own emotions. She struggled through middle-school, teetering on the edge of a million different friend groups, playing the shy girl, the weird girl, the outcast girl, the friendly girl, the popular girl; she kind of knew everyone, and no-one ever really knew her. It wasn’t the way she preferred it, her bones ached for settlement but all she could find was restlessness.

In her first year of high school she had no-one. She struggled to make friends in Sioux Falls. The same people she had known her entire life flitted in and out of her life like revolving figures in a play, she reached out to grasp them and they all just slipped away. Her friendships grew away from her, their common interests and shared histories fading into oblivion to make room for those awkward silences of knowing there’s no mutual understanding left anymore. It had left her sad, but Connie always moved on from everything without pushing it, a smile on her face. It was all for her to digest silently, not in a fit of rage.

She made friends in her sophomore year: a bad crowd, her dad had called them. It had been her rebellious stage. Connie had quietly embarked on a journey of destroying herself for fun. It was the year she began to detest everything inside of her. Her insides recoiled and she couldn’t stand to look at herself in the mirror. Every morning she woke up fatigued and nauseous with the thought of having to exist in the world. She had met Peter in one of her drama classes. He was older, and he smoked, and his friends liked to go out to the woods late at night. He kissed her and she felt like she was permanent, her feet stuck firmly on the ground. Then he’d go days without calling her and she’d let herself go stir crazy inside her own brain. They never got up to anything wild. It was never that sort of rebellious phase. Connie would just hang out past her curfew with them, smoking cigarettes she hated the taste of, laughing along when the boys wrestled on the ground.

But by junior year they were gone and she was stuck with herself again. And then her world got shifted upside down.

DURING.

They are hazy memories she can’t quite recollect. A bad dream she tends to forget about. Connie liked to buy the cover-up of a random attack. It goes down better for her. Peter had called her afterwards, to ask if it was satanic, he talked her ear off about the occult. Connie didn’t care. She pushed the event to the back of her brain and reworked herself into a new woman. This would not define her. It would not become her. It is always on her mind.

Police officers. Lawyers. Social workers. God, the fucking social workers. Connie remembers them all in bits and pieces, like watching a film she’s only half interested in. The open mouths, the silent words, the folded up case files she couldn’t look at. The funeral. The faux sympathies from her classmates. The rancid vomit she would throw up every night.

Emilio filed for custody of her and they moved to Devil’s Knot to start a new life.

Connie made herself a list of rules before leaving: no-one was going to know about what had happened, she was going to find herself with a group of friends, she was going to stop thinking about her missing mom and her dead dad, she was going to stop hurting herself for fun. Her life was going to become easy, despite everything.

AFTER.

Emilio is all she has left. He’s quickly turned into her best friend, the only person in the world she thinks she trusts, but it still makes her stomach twist and turn when she remembers he’s responsible for her. He’s overprotective sometimes, and she’s gotten good at lying to even him. It just doesn’t feel like this is her life sometimes.

It would have been easy to fade into the background. Connie has been doing it her whole life. She’s too quiet, sometimes, and her head is always racing too far ahead. She’s always caught up in her own little world. Entering Devil’s Knot she thought she’d immediately fall in with the outcasts. That’s where she belongs, right? But instead she was easily swept up by the most popular kids in school. She doesn’t know how it happened. One minute she was nervously getting ready for her first day, freaking out, and the next she was being pulled along by Kelly Shah.

It had been nice at first, to belong somewhere. There are moments she genuinely appreciates her friends. Then there are moments she feels like such an imposter it makes her want to scream. They don’t know the first thing about her and Connie doesn’t see the point in putting on appearances, it’s starting to wear her down. All she wanted was to live a normal, boring life. But she’s starting to see it’s going to be very hard to achieve that.

Especially with Brian now missing. It feels like only the start of something deeply sinister.

HEADCANNONS.

                       i.         Connie’s wardrobe consists of lots of turtlenecks, solid colours, lilac cardigans, lots of miniskirts, chunky boots that hit right under the knee, navy track pants with stripes down the side, lots of sweater vests, mood rings, flower and butterfly charms and hair-clips, empire waist dresses, low heels, plaid patterns, her favourite cream and baby pink floral long skirt, cropped chunky cable knit sweaters, floral patterns. Her main colour combinations are: black, lilac, peach, navy and red.

                     ii.         Her top artists of the year have to be Alanis Morissette, Goo Goo Dolls, The Smashing Pumpkins, TLC, Oasis, No Doubt, Aaliyah, Hole, Jewel, Bikini Kill, Madonna, Fiona Apple, Modest Mouse, Bjork and Belle and Sebastian.

                    iii.         Connie is a major fan of The X Files. The week Brian Goode went missing was the first episode she had missed since her dad’s death.

                    iv.         Her other staple favourite shows are: Seinfeld, the newly airing Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Beverly Hills, 90210 (she’s a secret Brenda Walsh fan; like she just gets it), Party of Five, The Nanny, Melrose Place and My So Called Life.

                     v.         Connie had been a feverish reader in her youth, devouring all the books she could get her hands on. Her dad had said her mom used to love to read. It had bought her closer to her somehow. But then she hit fourteen and couldn’t stand the sight of words. It’s only after her dad’s death that she’s been getting back into reading again.

                    vi.         Connie hated hiking before her parents died. Now it’s one of her favourite secret hobbies.

                  vii.         She loves to bake.

                 viii.         She had been obsessed with the O.J. Simpson case the year before.

                    ix.         She had bought all the Satanic ritual books she could grab her hands on right after the murder. Everyone wanted to shield her from the truth but she needed to know. Nobody would tell her anything so she had to find out for herself.

                      x.         There is something about ‘The West Memphis Three’ that unsettles her. She has to look away every-time they’re brought up.

                    xi.         She’s a social drinker but a secret smoker. It’s only habitual, a stress-reliever, the only tie she has left to Peter and his crowd. Em has no idea.

                   xii.         Her day-to-day life has been very boring lately: school, theatre practice, listening to what everyone else is doing and going along with the crowd.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS.

                       i.         EMILIO: It’s funny how quickly tragedy can bond you. Connie has always looked up to Em. He’s her big brother, how could she not? They were as close as they could be, considering the age gap and the intervals of missing time between visits. He was still her big brother and she still wanted him to like her and he still annoyed her constantly. But now he’s all she has left in this world. Her very best friend. Her guardian, now responsible for her well-being. It’s like walking a tight-rope with him sometimes. She loves him and she hates him all in the same breathe, and then she feels bad when she knows he’s just doing the best he can.

                     ii.         HEATHER: Heather is unlike anyone Connie has ever met before. There is just something about them that draws Connie in. It’s electric. Their determination, drive, commitment…Connie envies and admires all of it. She thinks the world of them. The brightest part of her day is when they have debate or are studying together or Connie catches her eye from across the room. There’s just something about them that makes Connie glow warm and happy, inspires her to strive to be a better person.

                    iii.         ELIAS: Connie immediately felt a connection to Elias as soon as she met him. He seems to be the only like-minded person in this town to her sometimes. He’s her trusted confidante when it comes to the arts. Some of the rumours about him have limited her from being able to develop a deeper friendship with him the way she wants, her group would just never allow it, but she always feels at peace in his presence and wishes she could just ditch her friends some days and hang out with Elias.

                    iv.         DAVID: He hadn’t really made her radar, other than he was nice and new like she was, and they sat in the same classes together. But then he asked her out, and she turned him down, and now she can’t get him out of her mind. It’s only a small crush, not anything near what she feels for Heather, but it’s there all the same: blossoming in her chest. Since he’s asked her out, she feels like they’ve grown into better friends, and now with Brian missing…well, she’s been spending a lot more time with him.

                     v.         KELLY: Kelly is probably the closest thing she has to a best friend here in Devil’s Knot. Connie both loves and loathes her. There are times where she swears it’s just the two of them against the world, a genuine, real friendship. And then Kelly goes and does something that completely makes Connie pause and wonder who the fuck this girl is. But at the end of the day, her arm is gonna be slung around hers, and they’re gonna giggle at the back of class together, and go shopping together, and Connie is gonna spend her weekends curled up in Kelly’s bed. There’s so much pressure that comes with being friends with Kelly Shah. It always feels like too much sometimes, like Connie is gonna mess up and get kicked out of town.

                    vi.         HOMER, SAM: As much as Connie feels uncomfortable by being in the same group as the popular kids – there comes an immense amount of pressure and responsibility and anxiety with the job – she genuinely does like both Homer and Sam, even if sometimes she feels not good enough in the group or she questions what they’re doing, she thinks the two of them have good hearts and she finds her friendship with the two of them mostly an easy ride.

                  vii.         MILTON: Connie secretly hates Milton. She can’t stand him. He makes her blood boil and rise and she has to bite her tongue every time he speaks. She doesn’t understand why Kelly is still with him at all.

PLOT POINTS.

I’d love to see Connie somehow get tied up in the Chapter business through Em; I don’t see her being truly a part of it, but I think it could be fun to explore maybe her opposition to it and how that affects her relationship with Emilio.

An exploration of the Sioux Falls drama and how that ties into Devil’s Knot’s mystery, if it does at all.

Her complicated relationship with her birth mother – possibly going to see Karen Shah to deal with it or going to see Karen Shah regardless, actually. I’d also love to see Connie trying to find a mother figure through some of the other women in town. It’s something that she’s always desperately been searching for.

I can definitely see her getting involved and trying to figure out what happened to Brian since her own past is still a mystery. It’s going to be easier for her to try and get the truth out of a situation she’s removed from while still feeling like she’s gaining peace of mind from her own trauma. I can see this leading her to work with the younger kids or some of the past generation that was involved in the Silverman case.

I’d also really love to see some sort of connection to Pete Silverman. I think they’d both be characters who carry a lot of guilt. Pete, for his past. And Connie, for the past she’s hiding. Somehow they’re very different but feel similar.

I’d also love for her to get involved in Brian’s disappearance through her lie about her alibi – did someone see her on that bus? Did someone see her out in the clearing? Does someone know about Sioux Falls? I’d love for her past and her lies to come unravelling.

I think a lot of constant themes have popped up in this app with Connie – her past, her commitment to theatre and the arts, her sense of being lost and not belonging, curiosity / avoidance about satanic rituals, her need to belong somewhere, guilt / regret / avoidance / overthinking, her ties to her different family relationships, the friendships she’s made here – I think these are all important parts of her that will be explored in various different ways and plots. I think my overarching goal for Connie as a singular person, not involved within the mystery, would be for her to find a true sense of belonging and confidence rather than playing the role of whoever is wanted from who in that moment. Connie needs to discover who she is.

[takadasaiko]

Breathe Again Beneath the Flames: Chapter Eighteen

FFN II AO3

Summary: Dumont takes a look at Navarro's eye, Howard gets himself into some trouble, and Tom and Liz go to the Post Office to fill the team in and ask for some help.

Chapter Eighteen

Dumont DeSoto was everything Tom had described him as and Liz couldn't help but laugh as he regaled her with stories from the past year that she had been separated from her husband. Listening to Tom she could have easily believed Scottie and Howard had held him prisoner in a dungeon of some sort, but Dumont painted a little less menacing picture.

"So he was on a cane for what….?"

"Months," Tom grumbled from his corner.

Dumont grinned. "You see how that went."

"Oh, I've been with Tom through enough injuries that I know how that goes," Liz said with a grin, ignoring the look she received from her husband. "Taking it easy doesn't mean the same to him as it does to everybody else."

Tom glared over the files that they had picked up from the storage unit on the way over to the safe house. "Like you're any better."

"Yeah, but we're talking about you right now, babe."

Dumont snorted a laugh. "I like her. I think we should keep her around. Can you image her and Nez?"

"Trying not to."

"You won't get away with anything."

Liz couldn't stop the laugh at that one, watching Tom scowl a little at the thought. "I'd like to meet Nez. Tom said she helped save his life?"

"Oh yeah. She got into the ER and administered the drugs. Howard wouldn't trust anyone else."

"You guys took good care of him. Thank you."

Dumont looked up, a little startled by the soft thanks, and mumbled something that sounded like he was brushing it off as that's what you do for a teammate. He turned back to the project at hand and Liz leaned against the desk to get a better look. His computer program that was reading data off the eye, wires stretching out from it, gave a loud warning and he reached over.

"What was that?"

He looked up at her. "It's giving off a GPS signal."

He said it so casually that it took Liz a moment to catch up to it. "What?"

Tom was already on his feet. "GPS? They can follow that thing here?"

"Breathe, Tom-Tom. What do you take me for? An amateur? I blocked the signal first thing. It's not makin' its way out."

Tom seemed to relax at that, sinking back into his nook now that Garvey wasn't going to be knocking down their door.

Liz forced herself to relax as well. "Can you trace it back? Use it to find something useful?"

"Maybe. Still working on it."

She knew a dismissal when she heard one and Liz turned back towards Tom. He was focused on the notes in front of him and she inched over. She couldn't do a damn thing to help Dumont, but she could handle a good mystery. "Anything yet?" she ventured.

Tom didn't look up. "No. I've run the name through every database we have access to."

"Which is all of them," Dumont offered.

Liz lifted an eyebrow and Tom leaned back, waving a small file as he spoke. "It means it's been redacted somehow, which doesn't make sense. We have people that specialize in reversing redacted documents."

"You got nothing on the search?" Dumont asked, suddenly interested.

"No files found," Tom confirmed.

"Yeah, that's been wiped. Must have been at the top levels to be that thorough though. Whatcha looking for?"

"Oleander," Liz said, watching for a reaction.

Dumont shrugged. "Not something I've come across."

She pushed a long breath out through her nose. "If Halcyon wiped it, that means it's just in their systems. They can't wipe federal databases, right?"

"Well, probably not all of them."

"Reassuring," she grumbled.

"What are you thinking?" Tom asked and Liz found his gaze locked on her

"I'm thinking that your wife works for the FBI," she answered, her lips tipping up at the corners. "We can run the search without tipping anyone off."

"You'd have to tell them you're alive though," Dumont murmured thoughtfully.

"Ressler already knows. Cooper too, probably."

Liz turned to him. "When did you see Cooper?"

"I didn't, but Boy Scout-" she glared at him over the nickname and he pointedly ignored it- "was convinced he had to tell his boss."

"Are you okay with this?"

"Long as they keep it away from Reddington."

Liz's expression darkened. "We'll make sure of it."

"Good. You kids go play with the feds a while. I'll have somethin' for you by the end of the day."

"Is that your way of telling us to leave you to your work, Dumont?" Tom teased as he started gathering his files and Dumont grinned.

"Scram. And call if you need me."

"Will do, buddy."

She had been careful. For thirty years she had been meticulous in the way she covered her tracks and in the way she moved from one identity to another, never staying with one too long. She had no attachments, she had no roots. Every move was planned and guarded, and it had allowed her to stay alive and off of the Cabal's radar. Until now.

If she traced it back, Katarina thought her mistake was going to see Masha in the hospital. The first visit had been against her better judgement, but she had been drawn to her daughter for the first time in years, and she had been spotted by her federal agent partner. Donald Ressler had seen her face and now he was looking into her. The timing linked him with Prescott, but it made a mess of everything. It would continue to make a mess if she had to do away with him too.

Prescott wasn't one to give up information easily, but in his business that should be expected. Eventually she did find the link, and interestingly enough it connected Donald Ressler to Laurel Hitchin. Perhaps Christopher's faith in the fed was misplaced. He'd killed the woman and hired a fixer to cover it. It was better news than she had hoped for. A cop so easily put in a fixer's debt didn't have the Cabal to back him. He hadn't been sent by them to handle Hitchin. A fluke, bad timing, it really didn't matter. He could be useful now that she had every file to force his hand. A fed that had worked against them before could prove much more useful to track the Cabal than a fixer was any day.

Scottie had someone waiting to escort her up when she arrived at the New York offices and Katarina tried not to bristle too badly as she was frisked and told that she would be taken to the Hargraves. She avoided the cameras as best as she could and followed her escort to the elevator that took them all the way to the top of the skyscraper. She was released into a conference room, her escort leaving her there.

Pale blue eyes swept the room, finding that it looked almost lived in. Toys were scattered and there were childish drawings scrolled across the whiteboard and even the windows. In one of the oversized chairs at the long table sat a little girl who looked just like Masha had at her age with the exception of those dark blue eyes that must have come from her daddy. Those eyes were fixed on Katarina and she stood very still under the intense gaze.

"I thought you might want to meet your granddaughter," Scottie offered from her place at the head of the table. "Say hello, Agnes."

"Hi," the little girl said obediently.

"Hello," Katarina responded carefully, wondering what her old friend might be angling at.

"Did you find what you needed? Howard said that he was able to pull Nez away to help."

"I imagine you've already received a full report," Katarina answered and her daughter's daughter's eyes were still fixed on her.

Scottie offered a thin smile before turning to Agnes. "Sweetie, why don't you finish the movie that you started a little bit ago? The laptop is in the corner with the headset."

"I don't wanna watch the movie."

"Oh? What do you want to do then?"

"I wanna see Daddy. Can we go see Daddy?"

Scottie's amused expression gave way to a sadness. "Not just yet, sweetheart."

"When?"

"Soon. Right now the grown ups need to talk. Grandpa will be back from his meeting soon and he can take you to the park. How does that sound?"

"Can I feed the ducks?

"I'm sure we can work that out."

Agnes seemed to think on that for a moment before nodding. "Okay."

And just like that she slipped off her chair and settled in the corner with a set of what Katarina could only assume were noise cancelling headset in place.

"She's a little bargainer," the former KGB agent murmured.

"And she has a built in lie detector. It's impressive."

"She'll do well in the family business someday."

"I doubt Tom and Liz will let that happen. They're desperate to keep her away from all of this."

"It finds you," Katarina said softly. "No matter where you go, it always finds you."

Scottie made a small sound of acknowledgement. "Nez tells me you killed Prescott."

"He knew too much."

"Meaning that he saw your face?" She tilted her head, fidgeting with a pen between her long fingers. "Where does that leave Agent Ressler?"

"Chris worried about him?"

"Your daughter won't forgive you if you kill her friend. She's very protective over her team."

Katarina's lips stretched into a charming smile. "You put too much weight on what our children think about us. If they like us, if they hate us, that really doesn't matter." Her gaze drifted to the little girl in the corner. "What does matter is keeping them alive as best we can."

"Killing Agent Ressler won't keep Elizabeth safer," Scottie said pointedly. "All it does is protect you."

Katarina grinned at that. "Will it ease your mind if I tell you I won't lay a finger on the man?"

"Not particularly. I've known you too long to trust you, Kat."

Her smile faded just a little. "Then I'll say that I will keep Masha's feelings in mind while handling the situation."

Scottie nodded slowly. "You understand this is give and take, yes? Howard and I supplied you with the manpower to do this. We expect to be kept in the loop as to what you find."

"As soon as I find something worth sharing, you'll be the first to know. If that's all?"

"If it is," Scottie murmured, her tone tired.

It never was and both women knew that. They were checking in on each other, reminding the other of what was at stake in their own way. Katarina risked only the briefest glances at the child in the corner as she turned to leave. She'd done what she said: she had followed up after the op. She couldn't allow herself any additional distractions.

Whitehall was a nervous man, and Howard's alliance with Scottie had made him downright paranoid. He had missed the last check in and he wasn't picking up his burner. Either of them. It had started as a source of irritation, but the longer the scientist went without answering, the more of an issue that it became.

A call to Dumont and a sweep of Whitehall's credentials put him at a motel in Jersey and Howard turned down the offer to send someone ahead. He was already spooked, and if they came at him with the force of Halcyon he might go completely to ground. Or worse, he would refuse to work with Gramble to ensure Tom's medication remained in balance.

The last recorded ping on any of his cards had been just down from the motel at a coffee shop not five minutes before Howard's car pulled up. He redirected his approach and stepped out when he spotted the man sitting at a table outside the shop, sipping on his latte. He was watching for someone, but if it was someone that he was expecting or just a general paranoia, Howard couldn't be sure yet. He rounded into Whitehall's line of sight, but by that point it was too late for the other man to slip away.

Dark brown eyes watched him carefully as Howard flashed a charming smile. "May I?" he asked as he was already pulling the chair from where it had been tucked under the table.

"I'm meeting someone," the scientist countered.

"They'll have to wait. I'm the one that pays your bills and you've been ignoring my calls."

Whitehall risked a glance in either direction. "If they see you here…"

"If who sees me here, Richard?"

The other man's jaw tightened at that. "Consider this my resignation from Halcyon, Howard."

"If this is about Scottie-"

"Scottie, you, your boy… you're all on a collision course and I have no interest in going down with you."

Well that was interesting. "Who have you been talking to?"

"Not another word, Dr Whitehall."

Howard kept his movements smooth as he looked back around at the new voice, hoping to hide the way it had startled him. He found a woman standing there, her cool grey eyes locked on him. Between her perfectly tailored suit and the way that her blonde hair was pulled tightly against her head to tie in the back, he couldn't help but conjure a few of the images from stories that his father had told of occupied Poland. Howard had seen his share of enemies over the years to know one, especially when they stood out quite so boldly.

Her lips tilted in an uncomfortable way. "Mr Hargrave, I've heard so much about you. Won't you join us?"

Howard stood, pulling himself up to his full height and buttoning the front of his own suit jacket. "I'm afraid you'll need to make an appointment with my offices."

"I have."

"Oh?"

"Through Dr Whitehall. I always heard you didn't like to share your toys. Looks like the rumours are true."

"Who are you?"

She tilted her head a little. "Names don't matter. They're like snake skins that you shed as soon as you're done with them. You know a few people like that, don't you? Your wife being one, your father another."

"Then who do you work for?"

"That's the question you should be asking." Her smile stretched a little. "I'm an enforcer for an organisation that you know well, and they're not willing to go through your office to speak with you."

"I thought you had the stench of the Cabal all over you," he said with a smile more charming than the words should have warranted.

"We don't like that name," she said flatly and her gaze shifted. "I could tell you that the snipers positioned all around this block are for you, and they are, but don't think for an instant that we won't move on what's left of your family. Susan is a traitor with a longstanding hit on her just waiting to be called and I understand that your daughter-in-law sent sweet little Agnes to her grandparents to keep her safe."

"Your superiors used to know what they risked if they came up against Halcyon," Howard warned lowly.

"Halcyon couldn't even save your son twice over. What makes you think it'll protect you or anyone else?" She moved quickly enough that Howard didn't see the taser until it was too late. The jolt of electricity hit him hard and his knees gave way. Someone behind him caught him before he fell and supported his weight towards a car that had just parked on the curb. As he struggled to hang on to consciousness her words battered around in his mind, linking together questions and possible answers for what little good it would do him if they killed him that day.

Liz had called ahead to make sure that Reddington wasn't expected into the Post Office and that her team wasn't out on a case. Tom had sat in the the passenger seat of the car as she drove, quietly listening to the one-sided conversation as she stressed the importance of the the visit and what she needed to share with them. Dumont may have done some work on her line to be able to call out securely, but there was no guarantee that Garvey - or even the Cabal - hadn't gotten a tap on the Post Office's lines. It wouldn't have been the first time that someone had.

She pulled the SUV around into the parking garage just above the Post Office after providing her credentials to do so. She nodded at the guard at the door and he didn't stop them even when Tom ducked his head a little to keep the bill of his baseball cap in position to hide the majority of his face. They let him enter with her and he waited until the big, yellow, metal doors had clanged shut behind them and the lift jolted into action before he peeled it off.

"He wasn't going to recognize you. They've changed out all the guards. The first time I came back there were all new faces."

Tom glanced over and he saw the intentionally blank expression she was wearing. He'd lost so much time with his family, but so had she. Perhaps even more so by the fact that she'd slept through ten months of it. One minute things were normal and the next her world was upside down all over again. He reached over, his fingers brushing hers and she gave him a thin smile. "Better safe than sorry," she acknowledged. "I guess we never know which one of them is in Reddington's pocket."

A lopsided smile tilted his lips, but he didn't have a chance to respond as the lift came to a shuddering stop. He felt Liz squeeze his hand, both giving and taking reassurances all at once, and the doors opened.

While everything had changed, in a way nothing had too. The Post Office's war room that they emptied out into looked a lot like it had the last time Tom had come through it, with the exception of fewer feds flittering about. It was getting late and most of the staff had either gone home or were out on various assignments. There were familiar faces, though, and one of them turned to look directly at him.

Aram Mojtabai's elated expression quickly turned to shock as his jaw dropped, his eyes widening, and he stood slowly from his perch at his computer. "Tom?"

"Hey, Aram," Tom managed and he hated the feeling of guilt. It still wasn't something he was overly accustomed to, and certainly not outside of a very small circle of people, but Liz's team was family. They were his daughter's godparents and the ones that supported Liz when he couldn't. They had her back no matter what came down around them, and even if he hadn't planned this, hadn't tried to lie to them, the assumption was there. For everyone. Ressler had certainly believed that he set everything up. It wasn't a surprise that Aram would too.

The technician let out a shuddering breath as he ghosted his way across the war room and towards them. Tom stood still, not sure exactly what was about to happen, and suddenly found himself being dragged into a hug. After half a beat of surprise he returned it, a soft chuckle escaping him as he patted Aram on the back. "Hey," he said again and Aram seemed to take that as the signal to let go.

He pulled back, shock still resting on his features. "Mr Cooper said, but….. wow. You're really here. You're really okay. You're okay right?"

That finally pulled a real smile from the younger man. "Yeah, I'm getting there."

"We haven't had a chance to hear the full story." Samar's voice drew his attention to where she stood with her arms crossed and her expression guarded.

"And I'm sure we will," Cooper said as he made his way down the stairs from his office, Donald Ressler in tow. "Good to see you, Tom."

"Kinda nice to be seen," he answered with a shrug. "When the Hargraves decide to keep survival a secret, they go all the way."

"Is Halcyon going to be a problem?" Cooper asked.

Liz shook her head. "Scottie and Howard are a lot of things, but they saved Tom's life and they've been able to uncover some intel that we couldn't."

"Agent Ressler was just telling us," Aram said, scurrying back to his desk and his fingers flew across his keyboard as he spoke. "I've been doing some research on this Ian Garvey - don't worry, I did a full security sweep before I did - and he's had several reports filed against him with IA, but nothing's stuck. For a dirty cop, he's kept his nose pretty clean."

"That's because Garvey has ties with the Cabal," Tom said bluntly and the war room fell silent. His dark blue eyes moved around the room, making quick assessment of each reaction. They had fought this enemy once before and it had nearly cost them everything.

"When did you get that piece of information?" Ressler asked, his voice bordering on accusatory.

"Solomon took a bullet to get it," Tom countered.

Liz took a small step forward, her motion pulling the attention around to her. "A lot's happened. Tom and I have been compiling what we've each found out about Garvey and about the Cabal, but there's a lot we still don't know, and that's what we're trying to find out."

Cooper nodded from his place. "You made it very clear you didn't want Reddington involved in this meeting. Why?"

"Because he's at the center of all of this," Tom answered carefully. They'd discussed just how much to share on the way over there. The Task Force needed to be brought in on Garvey and the Cabal. Their safety was at risk just as much as the Keens were, but to tell them everything was a risk in and of itself that might put them into more danger. Reddington had been lying to them, to Liz, and to everyone, and that was information that the Concierge of Crime had killed over. They couldn't be sure what the body count was but Tom was sure that Sam had died to keep that secret and that it had been the real reason behind Reddington taking the shot that was supposed to have killed Kate Kaplan, which in turn had led them down this path. Letting that secret go was going to need to be managed carefully. They both knew that, but keeping it too close could cause just as much trouble. Tom had promised to trust Liz's instincts on it. She knew everything now and this was her team. It would be her call how much she divulged and to whom the information went to.

"How so?"

Dark blue eyes flickered over to the Deputy Director of the FBI, but it was Liz that spoke. "He's still after the bag that Garvey took when he attacked Tom and me. It's a secret that Reddington wants kept badly enough to kill for it."

"But not you. Mr Reddington wouldn't hurt you," Aram argued, his voice bordering on a nervous laugh.

"Just everyone that I love," she said firmly and the implication was clear enough.

"So what do you want from us?" Samar asked.

"In part to loop you in," Tom said, catching the Mossad operative's gaze and holding it for a moment. "The more we uncover, the more twisted it gets, and it's going to come crashing down eventually. We just want to figure out what's coming before it does. Maybe even get ahead of it to stop it."

"Alright," Cooper said, nodding back to his office. "I think it's time you filled me in. Agent Keen?"

Liz glanced back at Tom just a moment before she nodded and followed Cooper back up the stairs and into his office behind closed doors.

"Tom, if you've got a second?" Ressler said, and the dark haired man finally looked back around.

"Sure." He followed Ressler around to his and Liz's office, and he could feel Samar's gaze on him even as he passed through the door and the ginger agent turned to close it behind them. "How much do they know?"

"The basics: Howard saved your life and you just got back out into the field and have been looking for Liz."

"You told all of them?"

"No, I told you I'd only speak to Cooper. I keep my word," Ressler said pointedly and Tom smirked a little.

"I know you do. So what's up?"

Ressler pulled in a deep breath and turned going for a locked drawer in his desk. The key turned and the drawer popped open, allowing him access to a file that he had tucked away in there. He didn't put it down, though, but instead he turned a look on Tom that was much more guarded than it had been before. "I need you to be honest with me on something, Tom. No dancing around it, no half truths. If you can't, tell me now."

"Ressler-" He swallowed his argument as the FBI agent's expression shifted, that guarded mask cracking to reveal the struggle underneath. He had known something was up since their trip to Alaska, but exactly what that meant he still didn't know. He'd offered to help him before. He had to give trust to get it. "Okay."

"Did you do something to Prescott? Or have something to do with him dropping off the face of the planet?"

The name hit hard, jerking back memories of a woman in his mother's office that had had claimed to be the one Howard had called to help him fake Tom's death. "Henry Prescott?"

Ressler loosed a shaky breath. "Hell, Tom… What did you do?"

"Nothing. I swear. Scottie called me a couple of days ago and introduced me to a woman that was asking about you. She dropped the name Henry Prescott, but I hadn't heard of it. She said he was a fixer that you had called."

"What did you tell her?"

The question hung in the air for a long moment, Ressler becoming more anxious with each passing second that Tom didn't answer. Finally he loosed a breath. "Just that you're a good cop and there was no connection."

Ressler looked like a man that had kept a painful secret too long and the weight was finally doing him in. He stared at Tom for a long moment, his gaze a little desperate and his fingers closing in around the file between them. He swallowed hard, tossing it down on the desk. "Is that her?"

Tom reached for it without a word, flipping it open to reveal a photo of the woman who had called herself Katherine Nichols. There was another name attached to the file though. This one was Katherine Mills, and as he flipped through the photos he saw a few other names. Natalie Vanderbilt, Amanda Thompson, Martha Catchings….

"Those are just the ones I've been able to link in the system so far. No criminal records attached to any of them and all I know is that Prescott met with her and wanted me to find her."

"Then you are in his pocket." Tom regretted the words as soon as they'd left his lips and he looked up at Ressler. "I'm not judging you."

"I am."

"What happened?"

"A mistake. They took my badge a while back after an incident. It was brief, but Hitchin-"

"She was with the Cabal, right?" Tom asked, relatively sure he knew the face that belonged with the name.

"Yeah. She was trying to use the situation to control me, she grabbed for me, I pulled away and…. It all happened so fast, but she fell and hit her head. She was dead within seconds and I was the only one there."

The question of why he would have jumped to call a cleaner died in Tom's throat. Panic. Panic made good people do stupid things. Not that calling a cleaner was necessarily the wrong move, but obviously the one he'd called had gotten him into more trouble than he'd started with.

"Prescott figured out who I was, my connection to the FBI, and he… fabricated evidence to make sure I'd stick around. He's been calling in favours since. Tracking down this woman was one of them. Who is she? You said Scottie knew her."

"She called herself Nichols when I met her. Said she was the one that helped Howard fake my death." Tom flipped through the last of the files, finally coming across an older photo that forced him to stop. The readout only called it a partial match, but it was the puzzle piece he had needed to make it make sense. "Holy crap," he breathed.

"What?"

Tom held up the photo of the woman that looked to be a good twenty years younger than the one that he'd met recently. "Did a name come back for this one?"

"No. Why? You recognize her?"

A knock startled them both and Liz poked her head in. "Hey, I've filled Cooper in. He's going to look into Oleander for us and see what he can find."

"There's more," Tom said tightly and waved her in. Liz shut the door behind her and he held the photo out. "Tell me that doesn't look like the photo we were trying to track down a few years ago. A little older, but that's her."

From the look on his wife's face he knew that she saw the same thing he did.

"Who is she?" Ressler pushed again and the Keens both looked up at him, Liz's voice small as she answered.

"This is my mother. This is Katarina Rostova."

Notes: My beta likes to tease me over my cliffhangers because I do love them, and I managed two in this chapter. :D

Next Time: Tom and Liz receive a surprise visitor, Scottie makes plans to rescue Howard, and Reddington receives some shocking news.

[isabellaflynns]

A green envelope was neatly tapped to the door of Isabella and Harley’s place. A hand drawn black question mark was neatly written on it. If Isabella got to it first and it wasn’t confiscated by her girlfriend. It would say in neat cursive writting:

My dearest, Isabella.

I am pleased to discover your interest in what I am doing and I realize that I am indeed incredibly impressive but due to your diminishing mental health I am afraid I can not utilize you this time around. You may think your validation does not mean much to me but I am honestly thrilled that you still think so highly of me. Receiving your letters is quite the joy. It is not often I get fan mail after all! 

Certainly, I was at the time aggravated to know that my riddles were not posted  on social media or written in the paper but at the same time. I am glad. It means that there will be no interruptions from the public like say, someone – for example a blonde librarian – chooses to solve them before my intended target does. I know you are aching for my attention, but we both know it is best not to give it to you.

Envy is an ugly emotion, sweet girl. You underestimate the Penguin because of your blind love for me and it is not something I can respect. Isabella, you have to trust me when I say Oswald Cobblepot is a worthy opponent for my games. He may not be able to solve my riddles as quickly as you but there is worth in the Penguin.

Beautifully said! You are my equal. What you lack in the same incredible intellect I possess you make up for in creativity and brute strength. You can take me on and provide to me a proper challenge my dear, but currently Oswald is my priority and that is the way it must be. Actually, just thinking about it now there is   somewhere you can

Eventually you will be better enough to be at my side again. I do believe that. It just takes time… perhaps one of the reasons I am going after Oswald now is because you are unavailable to me as a playmate and because of how he has treated me during our short lived romantic relationship. It wasn’t nearly as lovely as the one I shared once with you. Anyway…

Riddler is now outed to the public and there are still things I must attend to. I  hope you do not mind if I keep this briefer then I normally would like. I am a very busy man after all! 

Going forward, it is smart of you to keep your distance from me. Thank you for considering me and writing me! Unfortunately, I’ve run out of time to lounge about and I must be going now. You can continue to write me if you wish. I always look forward to hearing from you again.

Yours,

Edward.

The moment Isabella saw the envelope taped to the door, she dropped her satchel, completely forgetting about the library books inside it. Her whole world narrowed to that envelope, with a black question mark on it, and she walked over to it and pulled it off. Her hands were trembling a little, and she barely remembered to pick up her satchel before walking inside. She shut the door behind her, and put her satchel down again, and just stood there, not walking further into Harley’s home. Nothing else mattered except this.

He had written back. It had been days – she’d given up hope that he would respond to her, and now she chastised herself for her disloyalty. He was probably very busy. Of course he hadn’t had time to immediately respond. But he had written back to her, and he had been here, and left this for her. She could hardly believe it.

She opened the envelope carefully, wanting to save it, and held the letter in her shaking hands, staring down at it, terrified and excited to read it. She didn’t even breathe. My dearest Isabella. Oh God. Her knees went weak, and she heard his voice in her head, silky and smooth like melted chocolate, like he was whispering to her in secret. Due to your diminishing mental health I am afraid I can not utilize you this time around. And, suddenly, it was like being punched in the gut. He didn’t want her help because he thought she was too sick? A sound like a sob, or a groan, left her throat, and her lungs felt like lead.

She was well enough! She wasn’t sick. She would never hurt him again, like she had done in the farmhouse. Was that what this was about? Edward was worried she would damage him? She read on, her eyes desperately skimming the page, drinking in his flawless handwriting. He was pleased to receive her letter? He was thrilled that he still thought highly of him? Of course she thought highly of him! Her whole world revolved around him. He knew that, didn’t he? Yes. He knew. Reading his words, which were so rich with love that she could hardly stand it, she knew that he knew. And he felt it too. After all this time, he finally admitted it.

Envy is an ugly emotion, sweet girl. She gasped, and felt so weak that she knew she had to sit down, or risk just sliding down the wall and onto the floor. Not even aware of what she was doing, Isabella wandered into the living room, and collapsed onto the couch, her heart slamming and her thoughts spinning out of control. Sweet girl. He still cared. She could hear him saying it, so gentle and loving, brushing his lips against her ear as he murmured to her. She closed her eyes, and let the adoration wash over her. She knew he still loved her. She had always known.

After a moment, she opened her eyes and kept reading. He couldn’t respect her blind love for him? Of course she thought nothing of the Penguin! That man was an idiot! But the Riddler respected him. Edward didn’t underestimate him. He couldn’t respect her if she disagreed with him. She understood, but she knew, in her heart, that she could never respect Oswald. He was a moron, unworthy of Edward’s attention. But she had to accept what he was saying. He wanted to focus on Oswald, and it wasn’t her place to argue.

He called her his equal, and said that one day she would be well enough to be by his side, and she covered her mouth with one hand to hold back another sob. You are my equal. Eventually you will be better enough to be at my side again. I do believe that. He was willing to wait for her. He thought she was his equal. Finally, he saw what she saw. That they were soulmates, that they belonged together. They just had to wait for the right time, for her to control her adoration for him, and for him to tell her when he wanted her. God, she would wait forever. Finally.

She didn’t miss the redacted part of the letter – he had hardly made an effort to cross it out. There was somewhere she could what? He wanted her to go somewhere? Where? She wished he hadn’t cut himself off, and she wanted to scream in frustration. What did he need her to do? She would have done it. She would have done it in an instant.

It wasn’t nearly as lovely as the one I shared once with you. When was the last time he had called their relationship lovely, or even acknowledged that they were once in love? Isabella just stared down at the words, her heart jack-hammering, and her breath coming in quiet gasps. His relationship with Oswald had been bad? How had Oswald treated him? She knew that Oswald wasn’t good enough for her darling. She had always known. If Oswald had hurt him, she would kill him. Anger mingled with reverence, and she read on, a familiar hatred for the Penguin nestling deep inside her heart.

Oh, but Edward loved her. He missed her. She wasn’t trembling anymore. She was sitting utterly still as she read the rest of the letter, and she understood. Of course, he had things he needed to attend to. Though she hated it, she understood why he couldn’t write as much to her as she had to him. Besides, what he’d given her was the most perfect thing she had ever read.

And he still wanted to hear from her! He was looking forward to hearing from her! She smiled and laughed to herself, a little manically – a strangled sound. He had written yours, Edward, and Isabella stared at it, and gently traced his name with her fingertips, and a feeling of almost unbearable longing opened in her chest like a chasm. What she wouldn’t give to be with him right then, to hold him again, and thank him for being so good to her.

She held the letter to her chest, careful not to crush it, and closed her eyes. He loved her. He was hers again, and she was his, and he knew it. He had called her his dearest Isabella, and himself her Edward. He had admitted it. She didn’t move from the couch for a very, very, long time, and simply sat there, holding the letter, and then re-reading it again and again, until she had the most breath-taking parts memorised.

[storiesbyaya]

Story of A Hero- 23

{First}{Previous}{Mobile}{Next} Jazz was sitting on Will and the twins’ table monday at Lunch. She held a mysterious cardboard box on her lap and, for a moment, Will was confused…

Until he saw the familiar green lightning bolt logo. Instead of confused, he became excited, and nearly bounded over to the box. Jazz grinned at him, but continued to hold it close even as he approached. “So… Weird thing, but my sister came outta her room this morning. She gave me this. Made me promise not to let anyone but you touch what’s in it. And then, she ate breakfast with me and walked me to the bus. I don’t know what this thing is, and I don’t care. But I know you did something, and because of it, I got to see my sister, and hear her laugh and stuff. So whatever this is? You take good care of it.” She spoke with a serious tone, yet also seemed happy. Will was happy for her.

He nodded. “I know you said you don’t care to know, but… that box likely has my parents’ research,” he explained. “Oh,” Jazz said, understanding blooming on her face. She gave him a cheerful smile. “Explains why it’s so important… And why she’d only trust you with it.” Even though she didn’t know Will, as far as Jazz was aware. He held the box with the same care she had. “She trusted you with it, too. I think that’s a good thing?” “I think so too.” Their conversation ended when Percy and Lily arrived. She rejoined her table, and they ate together. It was hard to concentrate through the rest of the day, with the anticipation and fear all welling up at once. What could it contain?

-x-x-x

The box contained an external harddrive, as well as a note, written in green glitter pen. William decided to start with that first.

“Fun fact,” it read “A friend of mine has ‘Anaesthesia Awareness’. Waking up during the herein described procedures caused damage to his Adex. (Read up on subject KX-023) This break is what allowed us to break free.

I believe in you, William.  Let the mistakes of our past become the tools to build a better future.

Tessa Nickols (xxx-xxx-xxxx. Let me know if you need any more help. Give my number to Kat too. I miss that brat.)

PS- For privacy reasons, many names and faces have been redacted. Hope you understand.

PPS- Hard drive password is your sister’s middle name.”

Diana. The password was Diana. William wondered if that was done by Tessa or by his parents, but he only wondered briefly.

The amount of stuff here was… Intimidating. He didn’t even know where to start. He had to take a deep breath and center himself to even try to tackle this. Maybe… weed out the unnecessary stuff? Grant applications. Letters to investors. A bunch of other money related things. That was irrelevant to his studies. It went into a special folder. Just in case. Facility descriptions… As the document began with nothing but maps of the facility, William was going to ignore it, until he noticed that there were several pages. The building only had four floors, if he remembered correctly. There should only be four pages, if it was nothing but maps.

“As this is a foreign field of research, much of our equipment has required upgrades, and some custom equipment has been needed to advance our research.”

The section below the maps continued on, describing what kind of upgrades and changes had been made to existing equipment. It was all incredibly fascinating to William, but one very specific section caught his attention.

It described, in great detail, a special instrument created to measure and observe resonance.

“Tests have revealed that Adex exude a special energy. It has been named “resonance” due to the way it reacts within human subjects. With this, resonance can be observed and measured. This advance has increased the success rate of forced symbiosis to 98.7% Forcing symbiosis with two subjects who’s resonances do not match almost always results in MEIR-Type entities, and/or loss of one or both subjects. Forcing symbiosis with a subject that exudes no resonance at all results in failure 100% of the time.”

“So resonance has… types. And this thing they made shows them in different colors,” he said to himself, and scribbled this fact into a notebook. To his surprise, Imshael hopped onto his desk. “Hello,” they greeted, before curling into a ball near the keyboard. “I want to help.” “You… want to… help?” William repeated, confused. The words themselves were not confusing, but rather the ‘who’ they were spoken by. Even after the first time he’d heard Imshael during training, they’d still stayed so quiet Will almost forgot they COULD speak. “Well, yes. Bayesh and I feel I may have answers to questions you might have. I am, after all, an Adex. You’d assume I would know a few things about myself.” “I think assuming that would be kind of silly. Humans have to learn about their bodies, I’m sure you guys do, too. But...unlike us, there is no school for adex.” “True,” they said, swishing their tail to and fro, “But you learn things with age. Like the fact that resonance’s color matches the color of the adex itself. The color of the thing within you. It also tends to dictate what kind of abilities we will grant. I’ve come to notice white adex mean white light, for instance.” William scribbled that down, and gave her a few small pets as thanks.

Then, he continued to read.

None of it was nearly as interesting as the resonance testing equipment, and most of it made him grumble in disgust. The schematics for Meir containment cells. The dampeners that kept the ‘subjects’ from using their powers. All kinds of resonance sapping weaponry.

“Oh. Hey, maybe that could be useful for… I don’t know, fighting bad guys?” Harley suggested. For a moment, William considered keeping the documents and then sending them to Angel. She’d know what to do with them, and how to make them into weapons that could be used to fight metahumans and meirs without the need for HeroNet. But William turned to Tessa’s letter once more, and sighed. “We promised we’d never let anyone else see this research, Harley. I’m not going to betray Tess’ trust…” William reminded her. Harley looked down, and would probably frown if her muzzle would allow. “Oh. My apologies. Shall I leave?” Imshael asked. William looked down to them, then back to the screen, and then to Harley. “Immy’s technically not another person… They’re an Adex.” While true, William gave a sigh. Technicalities didn’t sit well with him. But he had Tessa’s number, so he decided to ask her.

[Will] Hi Tessa, this is William Kray. We received the hard drive safely, but my father’s Adex wants to help. You said not to let anyone else see what’s on this drive.

[Peony] Oh! A wild Will! Right down to business, I see. Call me Peony, kay? Wow. She answered pretty fast. But Jazz did say that she never left her room, so she likely always had her phone.

[Peony] Would Kat trust this Adex? Knowing who your parents are, I would say there’s no one more trustworthy. But ultimately, I kept this stuff safe FOR your sister.

[Will] Right. Thank you, Peony.

Kat… She wouldn’t be angry if William let Imshael see the data. But she WOULD be angry if it was used to hurt anyone. So, ultimately, Wiliam chose to put a pin in it and continue to read.

He moved on to the folder that contained actual test results.

“KY subjects?” William read out loud. There were twenty entries, but no indication what the KY stood for. William had to examine them, and after a few, he noticed the pattern.

“These are… Older than me. The subjects were all adults… This must be the initial testing for forced symbiosis… Look, this person is deceased,” he pointed out. The other four sets of eyes looked to where he was pointing.

“Of course. Adults can’t fuse with us. The necessary changes can not be done to an already fully formed body. That it took them twenty people to notice,” Imshael grumbled. “Well… I guess… The good news is that they only resorted to using children because nothing else would work… Granted they could have just… Not continued their research on forced fusion.” “Not every question needs to be answered,” Harley agreed. “Like… I don’t actually want to know how many bugs I can fit in my mouth?” While Imshael and Harley continued to list off examples of things they did not need to know the answer to, William skimmed through the rest of the KY files, but they were ultimately more of the same.

He moved on to the KX subjects. Those he knew. “Kx-01 subject. 12 year old female. Volunteer, informed consent (See risk waiver) blah blah…” William read out loud, frowning. “This girl became their first Meir… But they ‘learned a great deal about Meirs, how to contain them, and how to destroy them’ thanks to her… I… Don’t…” William had to step away for a moment. Destroy. They meant kill. Murder. End a life, maybe even two. He couldn’t bear to read about the tests they did on the meir. He closed the file and moved on. More Meirs. More deaths. Some children saved at the cost of their Adex being destroyed. Few successes, until... “This one’s different. KX-14,” Will eventually said, his brow relaxing from the ever deepening frown he’d had previously. “Different how?” Imshael asked. “Successful symbiosis with ANB72… Result, the ability to mimic the abilities of other Adex. KX14’s ability has allowed us to predict the type of abilities an adex will have-”...Basically, this says she’s the reason we know Adex colors correspond to what kind of power they’ll give. She also… ‘claims to see a faint colorful glow’ coming from the Adex.’... She could… See resonance?” Though Harley was wagging her tail enthusiastically,  Imshael showed no sign of interest. Their tail just… swished lazily. “Immy, there’s people who can see Resonance! Isn’t that cool?” he asked, putting his hands near them, but they didn’t move. “I suppose?” they said. William frowned. “You knew already.” “Yes. Sorry. I see you’re excited. I do not mean to detract from your excitement.” Imshael’s apathy aside, William continued, noticing that there was a small note at the end of kx-14’s file. They weren’t the only person to see Resonance, but it took until subject 19 to realize that this phenomena was a real thing and not a stress induced hallucination or something of the sort. From there, there was a lot more successes. 22, however, was an outlier.

Succesful at first, the stress and isolation turned them into a Meir. “Dr. Evergarden decided to use the Meir to test out the powers of successful subjects, beginning project Nightmeir.” It linked to the project, but this William refused to click. He continued.

Kx-023. William picked up Peony’s note and looked again. She’s mentioned this subject, told him to look.

“Subject awoke during procedure. Panic caused a small scuffle until he could be sedated again. No lives lost, but Adex suffered damage. See Incident reports.” And dated later, a note had been added stating :”Subject releases small amounts of Resonance even with Dampeners. Without dampeners, subject can not control his ability and destroys anything he touches. (Re: Request- Wall repair in B2-B wing,)” And a little later still, “Subject experiences blackening of veins in hands (What??) Sent to medical examination immediately, but no medical reasons have been found. He is perfectly healthy. Maybe this is caused by the Adex damage? Continue monitoring.”

William looked back to the floor plan, on an inkling that this wall that needed repairs might be one that resulted in the collapse.

Unfortunately, he realized that he was not an architect and couldn’t really figure it out, so he returned to his reading.

There were few deviations. Meirs, successes… He could tell that it was around there that they’d managed to get the Resonance measuring machine working. Hell, even the number of consenting subjects rose the closer he got to his sister’s number.

There wasn’t much to learn, but he did notice a naming pattern for the Adex, and understood they were named by their color. From there, he compiled a list of Adex colors and their abilities… But there was one strange code he didn’t understand. Some adex codes started with an “A”, but they were few. 14, 24,72…

Wait.

72? 72 was…

Kat!

[erickmalpicaflores]

Erik Malpica Flores Erik Malpica Flores recommends: SUITS Recap: The Real Samantha Wheeler

Photo by: Ian Watson/USA Network

While SUITS has been dragged down by a lack of forward movement — beyond the usual circular storytelling — for its longtime characters, the series’ latest episode finally cleared up some of the mystery surrounding eighth-season-newcomer Samantha Wheeler. In Sam’s first several episodes as a major player at Whatever This Firm Is Called, any backstory she provided was almost immediately erased by some other Insert Firm Name Here employee’s discovery that she told a completely different tale to someone else. Not so in “The Greater Good.” This time, it was Sam‘s turn to find out that something she thought was true about her past wasn’t exactly as she’d remembered it; and SUITS viewers had the unique chance to see some actual facts about where this newest name partner had come from.

And, of course, there were the subplots involving otherwise intelligent folks’ repetitive inability to make good choices.

On SUITS, we develop one character. If, when Katherine Heigl’s addition to SUITS was first announced, you had told me that the best part of the series’ eighth season — or at least the first 81.25% of it —  was her character’s development from obnoxious Woman of Mystery to Real, Complex Human…Well. Let’s just say the response wouldn’t have been great. In fact, recaps of SUITS season 8’s earliest episodes weren’t exactly kind Heigl or Wheeler. But here we are. So, let’s do this thing.

Sam’s attempt at being a responsible adult and getting to work on time was a failure. But unlike some folks, she actually had a legitimate reason for leaving home a bit later than planned: a visit from her foster mother, Judy O’Brien. Judy was in trouble because Corey, one of her current foster children, had been pulled over in her car with a bunch of pills. Rather than see Corey’s life ruined, Judy was trying to cover for him; but she needed Sam to keep her out of any criminal trouble in order to be allowed to continue to provide a stable, loving home for her remaining foster children.

Right from the start, Sam wanted Judy to let Corey face the consequences of his own actions, but Judy didn’t want to see Corey face the same fate that Sam once did: “I lost you all those years ago, and I have never regretted anything more. I can’t let something like that happen again.”

(My notes: “I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THIS!” The SUITS team: Ok! But you have to sit through the Catrina and Donna being very unDonna, too! Me: I’ll take it…for now.)

Because she was conflicted about whether or not she should even take Judy’s case, Sam’s first stop was to see Papa Zane, who was the absolute perfect support system for her throughout the entire ordeal. If the lawyers’ history seemed fake when this new character suddenly appeared, it was certainly validated here.

After a failed attempt at shaking down the prosecutor left Samantha with the realization that this case wasn’t going to be the slam dunk she had hoped, she visited Judy at home — the very place where Sam herself had once lived — in order to deliver the bad news. Things went from bad to worse, though, when Judy let it slide that the state hadn’t exactly ripped Sam away from her all those years ago. She was given a choice and ultimately decided to sacrifice her troublemaking foster daughter for the good of the other children. And Judy refused to repeat a decision that she had come to regret, meaning she refused to accept any deal that involved hurting Corey.

Unable to deal with the news that one of her worst memories was even worse than she’d ever imagined, Sam left Judy and planned to drop the case. This would have made for a pretty short SUITS episode — or, even worse, one with more time for shenanigans — though, so it was time for a bit of an intervention.

Back at The Law Firm of Names and Changing Names, it was Papa Zane who was, yet again, ready to be the  best of mentors. He helped Sam to realize that it must have killed Judy to have to admit what happened, and “sometimes, being a parent is living with choices that break your heart.” Ultimately, though, Sam turned out pretty well; and it was this knowledge and her own (redacted) rap sheet that wound up helping keep Judy out of trouble.

While the prosecutor had initially thought that Sam was just some hotshot lawyer, it was her own criminal past that helped her save Judy without ruining Corey’s life. Using her own success in the face of so many early mistakes, Sam was able to convince the prosecutor that taking Corey — or any of the children — away from Judy would prevent from having the opportunity to become a productive member of society like she, eventually, had. Because sometimes, making a tough choice, like the one that Judy made in giving Sam up, is what it takes to be the best possible mother.

Through Sam, SUITS told a great story about the pain that’s sometimes involved in doing the right thing, the many ways just one mistake can change a life, and the possibility that even the biggest screwups can become the greatest successes. Maybe there’s hope.

Speaking of big screwups: Harvey Specter. In SUITS’ seventh season, Harvey finally dumped Paula had Donna ask Stu to do something shady involving a stock. If you forgot about this, you’re not alone. Now, a full season later, that bad move came back to haunt literally everyone. Who’s surprised? Nobody? Good.

Nick, a guy who was basically out for Stu’s throne, spent the entirety of “The Greater Good” trying to blackmail Stu into stepping down, all while Harvey and a barely-focused Donna scrambled to patch things up. It was almost as if they should have learned by now that breaking the law, even if it means helping innocent people keep their jobs, is a terrible idea that will cause trouble later. But why learn, when you can keep doing the same thing over and over, all while having the ego to expect different results?

Harvey’s latest attempt at keeping himself and Donna out of jail involved…trying to get Mike Ross’s former prison boyfriend, Kevin Miller, to try to get Nick to back off. Something about giving him the “hey, Harvey Specter’s someone you don’t mess with” line or whatever? I don’t know. Nobody does — least of all Harvey himself.

Mr. Best Closer In The City also asked (demanded for) Sean Cahill to step in; but that meant admitting to breaking the law, which Cahill promised he’d throw Harvey in jail for if he ever came back asking for another favor like this one. Of course, just as it seemed inevitable that Stu would have to step aside and live on only the massive amount of wealth he’d accumulated thus far, rather than making even more, Harvey realized that he could go to Cahill but with a different take on the whole situation: prove that Nick was out to blackmail folks, which was worse than undercutting stocks.

Rah, rah. Everybody wins…except for SUITS viewers, left wondering why this with so few episodes left.

Of course, it wouldn’t be SUITS if some personal matters weren’t leaked into the legal drama like breadcrumbs to feed those of us just starving for meaningful content. There was the realization that Donna Paulsen, the woman who had always loved her job and fought for it so hard — even when it meant her ruining her whatever-he-is’ relationship with someone else — was suddenly totally fine with being late for work because she’d had a late night with a guy she’d known for five minutes. And, of course, it was predictably exciting to see Harvey get on edge the second Nick brought Donna’s name to the list of people he was taking down.

Perhaps the best part of the whole saga was the shot of a successful, yet lonely, Harvey Specter making calls to Mike’s voicemail about Cahill and the prison boyfriend, just before Donna ignored his two — two! — calls to get ready for another night with Sir Thomas The Presumptuous.

But if all of this has zero payoff, as it has for eight seasons, then it’s just about as pointless as getting Kevin Miller out of prison, only to ask him to risk his newly-stable life to help you save your own sorry hide.

So, we’ll see.

This and that.

“Samantha, when you care about someone, you fight twice as hard.” Mhm.

See also: Harvey fighting for his platonic coworker.

“Be careful what you say next and who you threaten.” GO HARVEY GO. “Looks like I touched a nerve.” HE DID.

We’ve seen all of that before, and yet.

Imagine being so hellbent on keeping a kid from selling some pills that you’re willing to ruin a 65-year-old woman, who you know to be innocent, and her other current and (potential) future foster children. Can’t relate to the system! Don’t want to!

Regardless of where anything else does or doesn’t go, or how frustrating it all may be, that “I miss you, buddy” was golden. As in, it receives a gold medal for creating pain. That may just be the theme of this SUITS episode, honestly.

“Let me just get this straight: Rather than fight for me or even tell me the truth, you gave up? And then years later, walk into my home to have me save you from making the same mistake again.” This performance had me on the floor. Good job, Katherine Heigl.

Also, everything about that previous line, up to and including “you gave up,” could have been from a certain dumb male to a certain just-as-dumb female. I’ll see myself out.

Ok, I’ll admit it: I laughed at the “severance package” Harvey showed Nick.

“I always thought it was the state that took me from her. It turns out it was Judy. She put me back in the system, just when I thought I had a real home. So, tell me: Why should I stick by her, when she didn’t stick by me?” Everything hurts, and I loved this.

“You raised this?” “I did, and I’m proud of her.” CRYING.

“This is where the gravy train ends, and if you ever threaten me again, I’ll take you down on the spot.” Shoutout to Neal McDonough’s Sean Cahill, as always.

I didn’t get a chance to weave the Catrina (Craig from Degrassi x Katrina, for those of you just now joining us) drama into the rest of this, but Louis’ reaction was beautiful. “The only thing I think about you is that you are the same brilliant, wonderful, quirky woman that I’ve had the honor of working with all these years. And that’s never going to change.” I LOVE LOUIS THE WORK DAD. Still not a fan of Louis the ass-slapper, though.

The other takeaway from the Catrina drama? Donna Paulsen needs help. Like. Let’s examine: “I mean, I know what it’s like to have complicated issues with someone you work with — especially when that person can’t have a real conversation about it.” POT, KETTLE, BLACK. Does a “real conversation” involve kissing someone who’s in a relationship, then lying about how it meant nothing?

“Are you talking about…?” “You know who I’m talking about, Katrina.” Yes, we all do. It’s exhausting.

“Sometimes, the answer is to fall for someone who has nothing to do with this place at all.” I’m. Is Donna sick? Is she being held hostage? Is this a pod Donna? Did she borrow some of Craig from Degrassi’s drugs or, like, Corey’s pills??? Clients now have “nothing to do with this place at all,” I guess?????

Ok. Enough of that. Samantha Wheeler and Robert Zane deserve better than to have this SUITS recap end on a low note. So. Let’s talk about the awesome scene where Louis chewed Robert out for bailing on his case was. “That’s enough! I’m not going to listen to another word of your delusions. Because from the minute I stepped down, all I’ve done is help you.” That’s what I’m talking about.

And Vulnerable!Louis? That’s some gourmet shit right there. “It is just…so…much. The pressure, it’s just. Too much.” Been there, hated it.

Catch more SUITS on Wednesday, February 13, at 10/9c on USA.

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[anonarat]

The Rose Court, Promise, Prologue, Chapter 1 and Aside:

Promise

Masquerade dies, and the Storyteller is the reason for this.

Prologue: The Storyteller

Something that looked like a man opened the door to the dingy room. This being wasted no time, heading directly to one of the chairs. Pulling the chair out and sitting down with a sort of measured strength, the being looked across the table that he was now seated at.

With a smirk on his face, he spoke, “well now, it’s nice to see you here after you’ve been on such a long journey.”

The other person at the table just looked at him flatly.

“There’s no reason to be like that. Why don’t you just sit back and relax,” said the Storyteller, “I’ve got a story for you that will completely stretch what you believe. Do you want to hear it.”

The other person remained silent.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” said the Storyteller, drawing his chair in closer, with a genuine grin spreading across his features.

“Just tell me at any point if you want me to stop and I’ll leave you alone and be out of your hair. But until then, I hope you are ready for a story that, to the common man, should seem impossible. I suppose that I should really begin at the beginning, and one of the few instances where I actually involved myself in the story…”

Chapter 1: Prologue

Sometimes the wheels of fate only need the tiniest bit of grit for the future to change. And sometimes the wheels of fate need a really good kick, quite literally in this case.

The hallway was the sort of place that looked like it should smell of antiseptic, but it didn’t. Partly because no-one who mattered cared about the humans in this place, and partly because changelings are made of much sterner stuff than humans.

It was a neat little corridor, acting as a path between testing and the general creche of the changelings. Admittedly, there was the slight flaw that this corridor was also the best path between Research and Development and the testing facilities for baby creatures. I say ‘creatures’ even though it was used almost exclusively for changelings because of the one non-changeling thing that was also being tested.

This non-changeling thing, that to this day isn’t properly speciated, was on it’s way back from being tested, being wheeled in a tiny cot by one of the human nurses. At the same time, another nurse was wheeling a changeling in to testing.

As far as their rather pathetic human eyes could tell, both of them were alone in the corridor. As you should well know, aren’t exactly the most astute of creatures, so when I gave one of the cots a solid kick, it careened into the other.

It was basically chaos then. ‘Babies’, though I hesitate to use that word to describe either changelings or whatever Masquerade is, went flying through the air. Not literally flying I hasten to add, changelings are entirely without glam, and Masquerade never did go out of her way to learn how to form wings, lighten bones and so on.

I divert myself though, bed clothes also went all over the place, the cots twisted out of the the nurses’ hands (helped by me) and they landed on their sides. All of this was just set dressing for the real sleight of hand. Importantly neither nurse knew which baby-like thing was which. Fortunately for them, the pajamas of the two creatures they were moving about were differently coloured, so it should have been easy to tell them apart.

Unfortunately for them, I was there. A couple of quick bits of glam and each creature looked as if it were the other. With a rather more ridiculous amount of subtle glam I made it so the changeling reacted to the future tests exactly as Masquerade would have done, at least for a time.

It’s worth mentioning that Masquerade hadn’t fully come into her power, so didn’t have anywhere near the magical consumption then as she does in later parts of the tale. Without that consumption, the resistance to glam that it represents, well the glam settled into her. Unlike with the changeling, this magic was designed to naturally trigger her to change appearance rather than having the glam linger on her. That would have still eroded to quickly.

When the glam disguising the changeling eventually wore off… well. To say that the fae were pissed off would be like saying a drop of water was an ocean. A jolly good laugh to be had there, watching them run around like headless chickens, cross-referencing records. A bit of redaction on my part helped the process of Masquerade not being found along.

Again I go off on a tangent. Needless to say, both the changeling and Masquerade started bawling and generally causing something of kerfuffle. Both nurses were fair worried that the noise would attract one of the fae. In their panic, it was very easy for the swap to take place.

Quite why I wanted to get Masquerade out of there… well, that is something that I’ll touch on later. Much later.

My choice in changeling was intentional, for it was one ready to be shipped out to replace a spark. That gave her plenty of time to get lost in the wide world of the lands ruled by the courts.

***

Masquerade grew fast. Naturally fast for whatever you want to call her species, but fast for humans. And she learned. When you can change your body, and are told to remember something, well...

To say that Masquerade was a cold child would not be wholly inaccurate. Oh her body temperature was fine enough, but she showed no emotion save those she chose. That would be because she could choose when and what emotions to have, so naturally she was usually a logical engine acting only for her own benefit.

As she grew, she began to understand the necessity of emotion to blend in with humans. One week she gave herself a deep-seated joy, not to the fullness of how she could change herself, but enough to leave her smiling all the time. After that week, Masquerade came to the conclusion that it made her vulnerable, and her survival instinct was strong.

And that, dear listener is why she didn’t live her life as a constantly blissed out mess. I mean, I feel it would have been rather a waste for her to live like that, and doubtless she would have been scooped up by one of the courts pretty quickly. Despite the benefits, the questions about why she hadn’t been taken younger might have led to investigations, which would inevitably turn to dissection. Fae are nice creatures like that.

So it was that Masquerade rarely used her emotions in her early life, when she was uncertain of how to control them and what they meant. Even when she did use her emotions, Masquerade kept them muted to protect herself. That would be emotional protection, because emotions easily morph from one to the other and creatures like Masquerade, well it takes time to make sure that her emotions stay fixed to what she wants.

Without emotion, well, Masquerade wasn’t exactly the most driven of people, nor could her adoptive parents use fear as a motivator. Besides, one does not simply control a changeling, and there is enough superstitious fear amongst humans that they would not dare.

Really, it makes you wonder how she got to where she was at the proper start of this tale. Well, let me illuminate it for you dear listener. Something that was not quite dissatisfaction with her lack of purpose arose within Masquerade. It was more the knowledge that she was a tool, but she was not being used, and without use, she would rust away as such. This should hardly come as a surprise, when she was first conceived Masquerade was always going to be a tool of the fae, so them building in an innate desire to work would only be natural.

Granting herself some drive and motivation; whilst away from others Masquerade began to experiment. As an entirely unnatural creature, such experiments were breaking new ground, though no-one else was available to recognise how significant the results were. I mean, it is not every day that you come across a genuine shape-shifter. To my knowledge there have been exactly three creatures of this world who could shape-shift, and she was one of them. Another was sealed somewhere dark, and full of pain. The last, well, I’ll leave that as a surprise.

Oh, Masquerade was limited, partly by her own thinking, but she never really tried to look like anything outside of fae or humans. Given that the two are the same basic shape, it’s hardly surprising that she could also mimic the hair colours and the like of the fae. It did have other advantages though, healing for Masquerade was much more rapid than for humans, though slower than fae. As I mentioned she could memorise things rather easily, and could access brutish strength or a dancer’s grace with ease.

When you’re giving yourself drive and motivation, but think of yourself as a means to an end, you really need a master or mistress. Masquerade pondered this conundrum for a short while, thinking about all the people she knew, as well as of the courts. She reached the own logical conclusion, she would be her own master. Mountains really should have trembled at that decision because it twisted the entire history of the courts away from what would have been their fate. To say it was momentous was an understatement, even if the decision was made by a six-year old whilst looking at the river that flowed near the village where she had lived until that point. Though as I said she grew quick, so she looked closer to seventeen or eighteen.

The entire village really paid no heed to her, and aided her parents in caring for this strange creature. To them, she was a changeling. They didn’t know any better. Given that the only time a fae would visit the village would have been to claim a spark and replace them with an actual changeling, it is hardly surprising that the court that created Masquerade never did learn what happened to their wayward science project.

I mention this to highlight how little of a difference her departure made to the village. She was strange, and her vanishing, well, it was something of a relief. Her parents were worried for a time that some fae lord would come along and strike them down for not taking care of what it saw as their child. Such fears were unfounded, with my meddling the courts didn’t even have a record of the village. Besides, punishing people for not taking care of a changeling was really only something that happened whilst the Iron Court ruled, and that was to heighten those feelings of burden, despair and fear on those who cared for changelings. Fae are nice like that.

So it was that this young creature made their way to Buutar, one of the major commercial hubs of the lands ruled by the courts. It sits quite neatly on the border between courts, with lands held by the Court of Vapours to the south, to the north-east (roughly), was Rose Court lands. Finally, to the north-west was Steel Court territory.

Given that trade did need to flow between the courts, and the courts were all technically united together, a city was built at the nexus. There were no fae in residence in Buutar outside of travel. That made the city a very attractive place to people who weren’t up to much good, or those who just wanted to lose themselves. It was also a fantastic location for the headquarters of the Human Resistance. Needless to say, it wasn’t the sort of place you would usually leave a child unattended, especially not one who looked like an adult.

Fortunately, Masquerade could take care of herself. As I mentioned she could grant herself silly amounts of strength, agility and resilience. Moreover, with her head mostly unclouded by emotions, she could methodically take down any threats. I say ‘methodically’ but I should point out that whilst methodically usually implies a lack of rapidity, that was not the case in this instance.

The first few gangs that saw Masquerade passed her up as a target, suspecting she was too obvious a bait. The gang that actually tried to mug and rape her, they all died in fairly short order. By the time a few more attempted muggings occurred, Masquerade had begun to get a solid understanding of the city.

Whilst she technically could have made an honest living, when you can literally change your appearance, so many other avenues open up to you. Seeing a niche that she could fulfil, Masquerade started an acquisitions and murder business. And by acquisitions I mean theft. No-one looks twice when the master of the house orders a painting taken down, or an heiress walks out to a ball with her very jewelry.

Given that the only known people who could change their actual appearance without disguise were the fae, Masquerade quickly became known as someone who could disguise themselves as anyone. After all, no fae would be wandering around Buutar stealing things through disguise when they could simply demand the item that caught their fancy.

This was a reputation Masquerade cultivated, even starting rumours that she only ever met clients in disguise. Whether you can call something a rumour when it is the effective truth, well that’s a debate for politicians or philosophers or someone who actually cares about the distinction. This reputation kept Masquerade safe. No-one would be willing to cross purposes against the false facer. And no-one would know what she looked like, because she could look like anyone.

Despite her notoriety, it only really existed in the underworld. Instead, Buutar was terrorised by the sneak thief and the bloody hand for almost fifteen years, before the spate of theft and murder ended. That was when Masquerade got her last job. The biggest job. The job that starts this tale, though the job is not how the whole tale ends. It was a job to infiltrate The Rose Court, and it is here that we begin our tale proper.

Aside - The Way of Things

I feel like before we continue dear listener, I should make some things clear so that you are not labouring under any false impressions. Also so that there is some clarity as to who is talking to whom. Believe me, when so many of the parties involved can look and sound like others, things can get rather confusing rather quickly. So I’ll give you a little bit of information that any reasonable, sane person should have, and I’ll throw in the conventions I’ll be using for names and genders.

I have already stated quite how far above a regular human or spark Masquerade is. You might think, out of ignorance perhaps, that Masquerade could maybe fight one of these fae, maybe even defeat one as she was at the start of this story. Nothing could be further from the truth.

You see, Masquerade against an army would have to resort to guerilla tactics. If she alone faced them on the field of battle her death would be assured. Now compare to the fae. The last recorded battle between humans and fae was a roughly ten thousand strong army raised by Enitan. She took to battle and was met by three well fed fae. The human army was wiped out to a person. None of the fae even felt the prick of the unworked iron that the elite cadre had to strike at them, let alone any other blades. It would be a match against a bonfire.

Oh, and assassination is right out, fae can use glam to heal from virtually any wound.

Basically, if you want to kill a fae, you need another fae. Given that all the fae courts are technically united, you might have a bit of trouble with that. This is also why the human resistance is just such a foolish idea. If the humans truly wanted to be free of fae rule they should flee north. Granted it’s unlikely they’d survive the border crossing, but hey, they’d still be free.

Now we come to the other, slightly sticky matter of names. To start with, unless someone is expressly using someone else’s true name, I’ll use their chosen name. As most humans, including sparks, are too ignorant to know better, they’ll just get their true name used, as that’s what they go by. Masquerade is a shortened form of her true name, and it is how she calls herself.

Nice and straightforward right? Well what if someone has taken on the appearance of another character? What am I to say then? I shall say that Tamara with the appearance of Fedi entered the conversation. Obviously changing the names as appropriate. Or something similar to that when the character first appears, but after that I shall refer to them as the name of the person they are appearing to be. Simple!

For pronouns, I’ll go with what Masquerade’s preference was, someone with the appearance of a male shall get hes and hims, females will get shes and hers. In the general case, I’ll use that person’s preferred pronoun. For example, I use female pronouns for Masquerade despite her technically being genderless, or all genders or whatever. This is because she prefers female pronouns. Given her nature, she dislikes a ‘they’ because she can be so many people, and ‘they’ is also a group pronoun… she likes to be an individual. Helps keep her sane.

At any rate, my aside is finished, and now we might return to the meat of this tale.