#acting much like a kid in that they are desperate for recognition and appreciation through any means necessary

[trainingdummyrabbit]

wanting to avoid the infantilization of adult characters vs the deeply compelling nature of "they never really got to grow up."

[ninadove]

feligami and chlolila!!!!!

Great choices, Noctie. You know me well.

Chlolila ✅

1. What made you ship it?

Let’s be honest. This is not a ship you get into because it’s cute, or because you hope for a happy ending. And I’m not exactly known for my appreciation of Toxic Yet Fascinating Dynamics ™.

THAT BEING SAID — they are a great plot device. Just like I don’t enjoy whatever Gabeminath had going on, but recognise how it pushed the story forward. So I am likely to write Chlolila in the future (When? Who fucking knows. Certainly not me), as part of a bigger project, purely because the narrative potential is through the roof.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

See above! ☝️

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Despite everything I stated above — I can totally see how they could have been written as an evil, yet healthy duo. More on that here.

Now that this is done. Let’s move on to serious business, shall we.

Feligami ✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅

1. What made you ship it?

This iconic exchange from the Diamonds’ Dance, which I stumbled upon with exactly zero (0) context a little over a year ago.

Listen. I was so prepared to be annoyed. I, too, was an aro Felix truther. I, like many others, was a Marigami enjoyer before anything else.

ALL OF THAT GOT THROWN OUT THE WINDOW SO FAST WHEN I SAW THESE 20 SECONDS OF INTERACTION.

Everything is there already!!! The instant recognition of someone who has been messed up by life in the same way you were (child abuse, queerness, neurodivergence, you know the drill)! The challenging of each other’s worldview! The softness of her hand in his! Disobedience as an act of devotion!

And upon watching the episode — is there anything more beautiful than this evil genius/desperate kid abandoning the masterplan he dedicated his entire life to, the scheme he threw away all moral considerations for, just to make this pretty and deeply hurt girl he just met happy?

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Every. Single. Aspect.

What can I say that I haven’t said before.

They are incredible representation (AH!!!!! See what I did there?) for basically every marginalised group ever.

They are incredibly soft, even though they were created to be perfectly emotionless (Kagami) or perversely cruel (Felix). Not only is their relationship forbidden, their capacity to love itself is an infraction to the blueprints crafted by their parents.

The ease with which they switch moral alignments for each other, which is majorly overlooked on Kagami’s part. More on that in another post on another day.

Felix willingly following her guidance in Representation is the ultimate proof that he has achieved freedom; devotion is meaningless if it is not freely given.

THEY HOLD HANDS SO MUCH. WHEN THEIR AMOKS ARE FUCKING RINGS. IF THAT ISN’T THE ULTIMATE SHOW OF VULNERABILITY AND TRUST I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS.

And much more. I am slightly drunk right now, so I’m probably forgetting a lot.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Shipping Feligami is controversial in itself, somehow. Let me tell you, many people out there have weird grudges against 14-year-old characters, and absolutely zero reading comprehension. DO NOT READ THE COMMENTS ON BUGGACHAT’S LATEST CHAPTER, Sunny. You would be shocked by how many advocate for violence against our boy.

Other than that, as you said yourself — childfree Feligami for the win. There is no way these queer (!) abuse survivors (!!) who defy any and all societal norms (!!!) would have kids. I rest my case.

Thank you for the ask, Sunny! 🖤☀️

Ask game here.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Yamato/Tenzo

I love that Yamato's story begins as one where he's just sort of there to replace Kakashi while Kakashi's recovering from overusing the Sharingan, but then it evolves into this huge backstory where he was raised by Danzo to not feel emotions and to always put the mission over everything (even his own life) but then Kakashi came crashing into his life and showed him that 'actually it's good to care about people and I'm willing to break rules and risk my life for you, someone who just tried to kill me'. I love the depth of Yamato's story and how he clawed his way from being no one unknown by anyone in the village except Danzo, to being his own person with an over-expressive personality and a desperate need for a vacation.

I love that his dream is just to simply be loved and wanted. To have a sort of family that he can return to. That he can love. After everything he has been through and done, Yamato deserved to be loved. He deserved to be appreciated and adored.

That no matter how many times Kakahsi asks him to stop calling him 'Senpai' he refuses. It's like his own little rebellion against Kakashi. He would do almost anything for Kakahsi, except stop referring to him as Senpai. That's just never going to happen and I adore it.

How he comes into Team seven telling Sakura that he's not going to baby them and that unlike his precious Senpai he's not there to protect them. He looks her straight in the eye and tells her she's a Shinobi and has to know how to take care of herself, and then he turns around and becomes the most caring big brother to team seven (specifically Naruto). The man was ready to yell at Sakura over her confession. He watched over Naruto and cared for him after his panic attack. He only ever wanted the best for those kids and he showed it in everything he did for them, even when his efforts weren't recognized.

I love how chill he is with Gai. Kakashi is 'Senpai', Asuma is 'Asuma-enpai' and Gai is- Gai. He's comfortable enough to shove Gai's arm off of his shoulder, knows him well enough to know how the use of the gates affects his body, and yells at Naruto not to touch Gai while he's recovering, and he's even comfortable enough to laugh when Kakashi tells him about Gai's 'acorn'. The two of them didn't get nearly enough screen time together and that's always going to be a pity because they had such a good bond in what little we saw of them.

How protective he is. As stated, Yamato is someone who was raised to not care about others. The mission comes first and everything else is secondary. His last mission for Danzo was to kill someone he considered a friend and ally and he had even accepted that he would have to do it until Kakashi talked to him. But then as an adult, Yamato is completely different. He's the guy who catches Sakura while she's falling even though he should focus on the fight. He's the one who gets captured in the war because he chooses not to focus on his own safety, but to shove Aobe out of the way of Kabuto's attack. He learns from Kakashi that friends are precious and must be protected, and even though he acts like that's not something he adheres to it's all an act. He loves his friends and he's willing to give everything for them, including his own life.

His desperate need for recognition/praise. This makes sense given the way Yamato was raised, but I love how easily he falls for Kakashi's sweet words. You know this boy needs a little bit of love because as soon as Kakashi says something sort of nice about him he melts. He's done for, and I enjoy it so much.

Drunk Kareokee Singing. This speaks for itself. Yamato's rarely allowed an opportunity to relax and unwind so the karaoke scene is a blessing (even if it is Anime only) and I enjoy every second of it. Would absolutely listen to his bad drunk karaoke singing.

(Movie only: lost tower) that moment he got back at Kakashi for years of bullying, by hitting kid Kakashi for being a little brat of a bully. Love that for him. He deserved to get in that single hit.

[joshuas]

sue me

♫ pairing: han jisung x gender neutral reader

♫ genre: college/university student!au, slice-of-life, crack, fluff, best friends to lovers

♫ word count: 3.9k

♫ warnings: nil of note!

♫ summary: just chaos and lawsuits?

♫ tagging: @fluffyskzclub​

♫ a/n: the seventh addition to my christmas drabbles! i don’t really know what i’m doing anymore ;-;

♫ skz christmas drabbles: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

The door jingled as three figures huddled through the store together,

“It’s so cold!” One of them — Jeongin, exclaimed, bringing your attention to them from your organising,

“Lucky it’s warm in here. Hey, guys!” You waved as they approached, looking at the display of records and CDs behind you.

“Y/N!” Jisung approached you first, pulling you in for your signature handshake.

The taller boy, Seungmin, scoffed, looking down on the two of you,

“I can’t believe the two of you still do that elaborate greeting.”

“You’re just salty that you haven’t been friends with someone since childhood and had the awesomeness to come up with something like this.” Jisung defended.

Bitterness bubbled in your stomach,

Right. Friends.

The two of you had established your friendship way back in daycare when you lent Jisung your crayons... reluctantly, at that. But you were kind of desperate to make friends, so you accepted his request. What you had underestimated though, were his motives. Jisung had no intention on actually giving your crayons back. Long story short, hair was pulled, paper was thrown, including scissors at one point, all resulting in Jisung eating your crayons so that you would never get them back. You had never been more shocked in your entire life... well you were two-years-old, so there wasn’t much that you had experienced. However, your parents, after hearing of this fight, insisted on taking you to visit Jisung in the hospital (he had just digested crayons, it’d be concerning if he didn’t at least get it checked out), giving him a CD of your favourite songs for him to listen to. How a two-year-old was supposed to appreciate that was beyond you, but when he came back to daycare with a set of colour pencils and drew pictures beside you, the two of you were inseparable since.

However, once you had gotten into university, the two of you had exchanged more than friendly comments, making you reconsider his place as your best friend after all. I mean, did he make your heart flutter? Yes. Did you miss him whenever he wasn’t around, even when he was being a pain? Yes. Was he incredibly talented, handsome and amazing that you couldn’t help but fall for him?... Yes! You had been trying to figure out ways to hint to him what you really thought of him, but he was about as clueless as Cher in the movie Clueless. And seeing as New Years was round the corner, you had resolved to yourself that you’d confess to him as one of your New Years resolutions... It was now just a question of how...

As Jisung pulled you in for the final part - a hug, you inhaled his familiar scent, interrupting your internal monologue, your mind calming from its racing, seconds before.

“How may I help you guys today?” You brushed your clothes, trying to maintain an air of professionalism.

“Jisung dragged us all the way here to get some of your famous ramen.” Jeongin explained, sighing.

“You came all the way to a music store... to try my ramen?” You asked confusedly.

“I don’t understand the logic behind it as well. But we did come all this way, in the snow as well.” Seungmin looked at you pointedly.

“...okay. Wait here, I’ll make it.”

“Oh my god, I love you Y/N,” Jisung called out as you went to the staff room, your heart skipping a beat at his comment.

Sighing, you turned on the kettle,

Why is he like this? How does crayon eating boy have this much power over me?

“Be careful, it’s hot!” You passed the steaming bowls of ramen and chopsticks to each of the boys, as the four of you sat around the till.

Bowl dangerously balanced on his elevated leg as he tried to pull apart the wooden chopsticks, Jisung flashed you a grateful smile,

“You know, Y/N, one day you’re going to make someone extremely happy with—“ He yelped as he jolted from the force of taking the wooden chopsticks apart, the bowl tipping off his leg and onto the carpeted floor. The red ramen soup soaking into the light carpet, staining it.

“Oh no! Y/N, I’m so sorry!” Jisung exclaimed, frantically grabbing at tissues from the counter, dabbing them on the ground.

You bit back a smile,

Of course, it was Jisung. But ugh it’s going to be a pain to get that dry cleaned...

“I might just have to sue you for that!” You said sarcastically.

Jisung looked at you wide-eyed,

“Oh! I— isn’t there anything else I can do? I can help out at the store for the rest of the break!” Jisung said frantically.

“Ohhh, no I’ll have to have sue you. Company policy.” You hid a smile, deciding to tease him further.

“Oh. Um, okay.” He blinked, unaware, “Let me just get a lawyer to represent me— Seungmin! You’re a lawyer, right? You need to represent me for this case.” Jisung grabbed Seungmin’s arm, looking at him pleadingly,

“I’ve literally only had one class and isn’t this a jo—“ Seungmin broke off as you stared him down, imploring him to partake in the practical joke you were playing on the other boy.

You sighed, “Okay. Seems like it’s sorted. We’ll meet up in two weeks. Hopefully, you’ll have your money ready, because I’m going to win this.”

“It’s Opposite Day. So you won’t, and I will, okay?” Jisung gave you a quick smile, dragging Seungmin towards the door.

“But, my ramen!” Seungmin complained.

“No time, we need to win.” Jisung dragged Seungmin out of the store.

You shared a glance with Jeongin,

This is going to be interesting...

“You aren’t a parent, nor a teacher, what are you doing here?” Jeongin warily watched you approach, narrowly avoiding the little kids running through your path.

“I need your help.” You said solemnly.

“How did you know I was doing work experience at the daycare?” Jeongin raised an eyebrow sceptically.

“Believe it or not, Seungmin can be extremely candid and direct when Jisung is harassing him on the other side of a phone call. Also, you’re working towards your teaching degree. It doesn’t seem too weird that you’re working at a daycare.” You noted, taking in your surroundings.

“Oh, alright. What can I help you with?” Jeongin said reluctantly.

“I need you to dress up like an old businessman and pretend to be my lawyer.” You said quickly, thrusting a back-rubbing cane into his hands before getting ready to bolt.

“Wait! Why?” Jeongin looked at you sceptically yet again.

You sighed,

“Look, I need Jisung to think it’s the real deal, otherwise...” You stopped, squinting at the two figures attempting to act casual outside the daycare.

“Oh my god, are they spying on us?”

“It was most definitely Jisung’s idea.” Jeongin joined you, staring as Jisung attempted to casually lean against a car, trying to converse with a stony-faced Seungmin, not long before setting off the car alarm and yelling at Seungmin to run.

You watched the two of them take off,

“Looks like we’ll need to up our game, Mr Yang. Or should I say... Prosecutor Yang?” You smiled pleadingly at him.

“Fine...”

“Let me get this straight, we’re spying on them now even though this whole lawsuit thing isn’t actually going to happen?” Jeongin asked, bringing his jacket closer to him as he entered the University café.

“Well, it’s not like we can’t put any effort in because then we’d be admitting defeat to this... joke? Regardless, we need to win.” You pushed your cap further down after nodding at Chan in acknowledgment.

You sat down in a secluded area of the café, Chan approaching to greet you,

“Why is it always that chaos is brought to this café by this friendship group?” Chan looked pointedly at Jeongin as he shrugged.

“How do you know that shenanigans are to take place? Can’t we just enjoy our coffee in a secluded area of the cafe in our spy clothes without suspicion?” You asked, slightly defensive.

“...no. Anyway, what can I get for your spy mission?” Chan asked, eyes glinting with amusement.

“I’ll have an iced americano.” Jeongin.

“And I’ll have a—“ you broke off as Chan interrupted you,

“New York Cheesecake? I know. Jisung and you come here to get some like every Friday. Speaking of Jisung, why are you sitting over here instead of with them over there?” He pointed to the two boys huddled at the table, Seungmin slightly bored, checking his phone regularly, and Jisung talking animatedly to him. Jisung, noticing Seungmin’s disinterest, grabbed his phone, getting up and placing it in the trash can before heading back to a very much annoyed Seungmin.

“It’s... a long story. Very chaotic! You probably wouldn’t want to hear it.” You ushered Chan away, Jeongin looked at you smugly,

“You and Jisung, huh? It’s almost as if you were... soulmates. Now I think I know why you need my help.”

You scoffed,

“I don’t need your help.”

“Oh really? Then I guess I’ll get going—“ You pulled him back into his seat, the chair scraping as it was pulled erratically from both directions. The commotion caused Jisung and Seungmin to pause, looking at you two, eyes widening in recognition.

You looked at Jeongin, panicked, before throwing the money at a stunned Chan and rushing out of the cafe.

“Don’t give my cheesecake to Jisung! We both know that he’ll eat it instead of giving it to me.”

[09:38] (Jeongin) Hey, make sure you come on time.

[09:40] (You) Why do we have to go to the shops for this?

[09:41] (Jeongin) sadly the courts were all booked out with proper criminal cases, so the shops will have to do to resolve this fake lawsuit. just get ready and come quickly!

[09:43] (You) fine, fine. I’ll get my finest attire on. See you soon.

You placed your phone on your bed before dressing up to the best of your ability, steeling yourself as you looked in the mirror,

I will tell him how I feel... no matter how complicated this lawsuit thing becomes.

“Look who finally decided to show.” Jisung drawled, sipping at his soft drink. You looked him up and down appraisingly, ignoring your beating heart... he cleaned up more than nicely.

“Okay, shall we get started?” You clapped your hands, sitting opposite Seungmin and Jisung... and next to a very poorly disguised Jeongin.

“Interesting outfit choice, Jeongin.” Seungmin noted.

“What’s even more interesting is that Y/N selected Jeongin as her representative. He’s not even a lawyer!” Jisung looked at you triumphantly.

“Neither am—“ Seungmin interrupted, Jisung shushing him before he could complete his sentence.

“I thought you were going to dress up like a business man! Not some young mobster. This isn’t a fanfic. You’re not the main character.” You hissed under your breath, leaning slightly towards Jeongin so he could hear.

“And what? You are?” He scoffed, before smiling widely at the two in front of him.

“Right, so Jeongin and I have discussed the case beforehand.” Seungmin nodded at Jeongin.

“We’ve decided that we’ll put together a bunch of trials, and whoever wins those will win this lawsuit.” Seungmin proposed.

“I... feel like this isn’t how lawsuits work.” Jisung said doubtfully.

“This is what I was taught in law school!” Seungmin defended.

“Gotta trust the guy who attended law school.” You pointed out.

“What do you mean attended? He’s still at law—“ Jisung broke off as Seungmin cleared his throat, pointedly.

“The first challenge being, who can make the two of us the best milkshake.”

“Ready to lose, Y/N?” Jisung raised an eyebrow competitively at you.

“You wish, Han Jisung!” You sprinted to the other side of the food court, lining up as Jisung hurried after you, ending up directly behind you.

[20 minutes later]

You sighed loudly,

This is taking too long.

You politely pushed in front of people to the front of the line,

“Hey, are you guys right or do you need help? Because I can help out if you want. It’ll help you get through this queue a lot faster.” You asked the worker at the register.

“I can too!” Jisung sidled up beside you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

The worker looked at you sceptically before sighing in defeat,

“You know what, you may as well help because we’re so swamped. Grab some gloves and a hairnet and get started.” The worker let you through.

That was easy enough.

This is not easy.

“Chocolate ice cream thick shake for Sara!” You called out, frantically pushing the lid on the shake before handing it to the customer. Jisung rushed beside you,

“No-fat, non-skim, skinny latte with soy milk, one and a half sugars and a drizzle of vanilla for Jacques?” Jisung called out,

“Actually, can I change my—“ Jacques started.

“No.” Jisung deadpanned.

“Ready to admit defeat?” You smirked.

“Never. We’re yet to make the best milkshakes for Seungmin and Jeongin.” Jisung ran to the blender, chucking in as many ingredients as possible.

“Two can play at that game.” You said resolutely, approaching another blender, using as many ingredients as possible.

This is either going to be a disaster or a five star Michelin dish in the making.

“Stop. Stealing. The. Caramel. Sauce.” You gave Jisung a death glare as you wrestled the sauce bottle, the manager of the store glaring at the both of you,

“Alright, that’s enough. The two of you need to leave. You basically ditched serving the customers and did this. I don’t even know what this is but you need to stop using our resources for it.”

“Wait but it’s the finishing touch!” Jisung pleaded as the manager shook his head resolutely.

You scoffed,

“Whatever. It’s not like we’re getting paid for this or anything. Which we should! In fact, I have a lawyer friend that could help me sue you. He’s very good and wins about... 100% of his clients’ cases.” You threatened.

The manager pinched the bridge of his nose,

“Half of the orders that you served came back with complaints so you really did nothing.”

“The people really don’t appreciate our talents.” Jisung gasped, offended.

“If you guys think you’re talents are in milkshake making, you really should reevaluate your...um...life choices.” The manager said sheepishly.

“Whatever, be prepared for a lawsuit! Let’s leave, Jisung.” You grabbed your milkshakes, grabbing Jisung’s arm and dragging him out of the store.

“100% track rate, you say? Have you admitted defeat already?” Jisung raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up, Jisung. I was obviously talking about Jeongin.”

“Right...”

“Um. What is this?” Seungmin scrunched his face in disgust, looking at the... mess of two drinks in front of him and Jeongin.

“Milkshakes!” Jisung said excitedly.

“I know that. But why did it take so long to make... you didn’t poison it, did you?” Seungmin looked at the two of you skeptically.

“Just drink it and tell us who wins.” You sighed as they picked up their drinks, tentatively sipping and then tasting the other,

“We need time to confer, so we’re going to give you the next challenge. You’re going to have to... pick out the best present for each other, and we’ll judge that once we see it.” Jeongin shooed the two of you away, winking at you as Jisung took the lead, striding towards a craft store.

As you browsed around the store, closely following Jisung, you stopped at the crayons section, exhaling a small laugh.

Jisung turned around, confused, eyes wide, settling on the packet of crayons,

“I dibs getting that for you.”

“You can’t dibs getting a present for someone.” You said incredulously.

“Um, well if it’s a competition, yes I can.” Jisung retorted, hands on hips.

“So you’re telling me, that the best present you could ever get me is crayons? You wouldn’t get that for me normally?” You rolled your eyes, exasperated.

“Why should I?” Jisung said, confused.

“Let me remind you. Twenty or so years ago, a young Jisung eats my crayons in retaliation for getting told to give them back. Young Y/N visits young Jisung in hospital, giving him a free record as a gift. And Jisung never reimburses Y/N with another set of crayons. You know, with your track record, it’s not even accidental. It’s serial. Like serial killing but serial property damage. Honestly, I could extend that to this lawsuit, as well.” You defended.

“Okay one, it’s too late to do that... isn’t it? I don’t have enough money for both! And two, is all you’re saying that your ideal gift is a pack of crayons?!”

“Are you admitting defeat already?” You smirked.

“Pfft no! Give me— that—“ He grabbed the pack of crayons from you, heading to the counter to pay as you grabbed another pack, lining up behind him.

“You both bought each other the same gift?” Seungmin raised an eyebrow at the two of you.

“Not intentionally! Please don’t disqualify us.” Jisung defended, apologetic.

“You literally went to the same store.” Jeongin deadpanned.

“That’s—“

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this. I need to go to the hospital in a bit. Okay, here’s what you can do. Explain to us why you bought the gift for said person, and we’ll judge based on your response.” Seungmin checked his watch, leaning back in his chair.

“Jisung, you go first.” Jeongin gestured for Jisung to start.

“Okay, well the short story is that Y/N told me that it was their ideal gift. The long story is that Y/N called me a serial property damager, and I really can’t afford that being added to my list of offences and be sued further.” Jisung said a matter-of-factly.

“Oookay... anyway, Y/N! What’s your reasoning?” Seungmin turned to you.

“Hmm... okay well when I was a child, Jisung stole my crayons and ate them, somehow we became friends, and he never bought me crayons to reimburse me, so I decided to be the bigger person and buy him crayons to share. Honestly, you’d think he’d know how to by now.” You tutted as a soft pink colouring flooded Jisung’s cheeks.

“...what?” Jeongin blurted out.

“It doesn’t matter! Jisung and Y/N are both... odd personalities. I mean, no wonder they’re best friends.” Seungmin dismissed.

There was that “f” word again...

“Anyway, I don’t have time for this. We’ll deliberate again as you do another challenge. You’re going to have to race each other around the entire shopping centre. Whoever comes first, wins... that round. Obviously. Otherwise, there would’ve been no point to these other challenges.” Seungmin dismissed the two of you, getting you to start at the same time.

Is this what my life has come to? Racing the literal love of my life to show that I’m serious about a fake lawsuit?... I really need to reconsider my lifestyle choices... and friends.

You and Jisung were neck and neck, you huffed as you sprinted next to him,

“Why are you so caught up on this whole lawsuit thing? You and I both know that it’s fake.”

Jisung glanced at you through the corner of his eye, “Hff— I— hff— know that but fake lawsuit or not, it was one of my New Years resolutions to win it.”

You stopped,

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.” He stopped in front of you.

“Well— I... who am I to stop you from achieving your goals? I forfeit.” You stepped back, relieved to be out of it.

“You can’t be serious,” Jisung said, slightly shocked,

“I need you to finish this! I can’t just win by default. That defeats the whole purpose. Actually try.” He challenged.

“This is so stupid, though.” You grumbled.

“You’re the one that proposed it. Why did you, if you don’t want to do it?” Jisung raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“I— ugh. To be honest, it started out as a joke but then I saw how serious you got about it! So, I decided to play along so I wouldn’t let you down.” You sighed.

“You’re right, I paid Seungmin $100 to represent me.” He sighed in sync with you.

“...you really need to stop doing that. First Minho, now Seungmin? Are you going to pay the entirety of your friendship group for being your friend?” You looked at him disappointedly.

He rolled his eyes, “Speaking of friends... why did you play along?” He asked, curious.

You inhaled sharply,

Now or never. No more friend-zoning.

“Do you know what my New Years resolution was?” You asked.

He shook his head, clueless,

“It was to confess my feelings for you. I’m not as great with words as you are, but Han Jisung, I like you. A lot. Even if you do crazy things like eating my crayons.” You closed your eyes, unwilling to view his reaction... only for a slight pressure to meet your lips.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to meet Jisung’s as he kissed you softly.

He pulled back, bringing you into a hug,

“You’re always going to hold that against me, aren’t you?” He chuckled, whispering that to you.

“We just kissed and that’s what you’re concerned about?” You lightly smacked his chest.

“Well, what else am I supposed to say? I kissed you. I don’t think that best friends do that. Do I need to say it explicitly? Okay then, I like you too!” He said, confused.

You rolled your eyes,

“Whatever. We better get going if we want to finish this race, and help you achieve your life goals!”

“Oh my gosh, Y/N. You’re such a supportive... lover? We’ll figure it out.” He held out your hand, dodging past people as you both sprinted down the mall.

You slowed as you approached Seungmin and Jeongin, dropping your hand from his grasp. Jisung turned back to you, confused.

You ushered him forward, smiling encouragingly,

“Go! Finish first. Achieve your goals.”

He paused, before taking your hand again, dragging you over to Seungmin and Jeongin, they looked up, equally as confused as you.

“We both forfeit.” He said, in between catching his breath.

“What? Why?” Jeongin started, as Seungmin groaned,

“You’re telling me, that I spent the time that I could’ve been sleeping, only for you to forfeit. You know what? It’s fine. Neither of you won anyway because drinking your milkshakes was the worst thing we had to suffer through since the time you both made us cake!”

You reeled back in mock offence, Seungmin sighed,

“I’m sorry if that was harsh. I’m working nights at the hospital.”

“Wait. What does a lawyer have to do at a hospital?” Jisung questioned, confused.

“Do— do you guys even listen to the things I say? I quit law school after one lesson and went back to medical school.” Seungmin said, exasperated.

“And no! You can’t have your money back. We’re leaving now anyway, so bye!” He grabbed Jeongin, running away from the two of you as fast as possible.

“You know, I lied about my New Years resolution.” Jisung spun you around to face him, your hand meeting his bicep.

“Oh no! How could I ever trust you again?” You sighed dramatically.

“Y/N— I was trying to be sentimental and tell you that our resolutions were the same but you ruined the moment!” He pouted, annoyed.

You laughed, grabbing his cheeks (jeekies ahhhhhhhhh they’re so cute right—),

“I’ll sue you if you don’t stop being so cute!”

“Ha! I’d like to see you try.”

➳ part eight?  |  masterlist!

[51kas81]

Twelve Dreams of Dr Sardonicus by Spirit

My parents were desperate for me to like classical music, but I just couldn’t buy into the length of the pieces. Then they played me Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber and it was so beautiful, I cried. My school music teacher, Mr Vassal, asked for our favourite composers; I said Samuel Barber and he laughed at me. But eventually everyone caught up.

There was a Beatles versus Stones vibe at school. I was on the Beatles side. The first single I bought was Wild Thing by the Troggs and the first album was Bookends by Simon and Garfunkel. I loved Father and Son by Cat Stevens, because it made me think of me and my dad. My tastes weren’t shocking; they just needed to open up. Then, when I was 17, I went to hospital to have my tonsils out and my brother bought me some records and this mobile turntable in a suitcase.

Twelve Dreams of Dr Sardonicus by Spirit had the most amazing way of manipulating stereo. I was just blown away. I have to thank my brother; he turned me on to Joni Mitchell, Andy Pratt and Little Feat and opened up my boundaries.

Little Brother, Little Sister

My mother, Helen Shingler, was famous during my teens for playing Madame Maigret in a BBC series based on the Georges Simenon stories. My father, Seafield Head, was a producer and director at Verity Films, the documentary film company. Every year, a family friend’s mum would hire this huge barn and put on a play. I had a bit part in The Jackdaw of Rheims. The next year, I got to be the Emperor in The Emperor’s New Clothes. As I walked through the audience, all heads turned towards me and I remember thinking: “This is what I want to do for a living.”

I applied to the National Youth Theatre and the Central School of Speech and Drama, but I didn’t get in, so my father hired me as a runner and assistant editor. Working in the cutting rooms was fascinating. Then I enrolled at The Young Stagers at the Thorndike theatre in Leatherhead, run by this lovely woman called Joan MacAlpine. She directed me in an extraordinary piece called Little Brother, Little Sister, which got me into the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art. My teacher said: “If anybody can make me cry, I’ll take them to the theatre.” I did my piece again and made her cry.

The Rocky Horror Show

I remember being taken to The Rocky Horror Show on Kings Road when I was at drama school in my late teens. Tim Curry was playing Dr Frank-N-Furter – the role that he repeated in the film. Watching The Rocky Horror Show ignited something in my core. I knew I had acting in my blood because of my mother. Now I couldn’t wait to finish drama school and try to make it in the real world.

I finally got to play Dr Frank-N-Furter when The Rocky Horror Show came to the Piccadilly theatre in 1990. The exciting thing about acting is that you shouldn’t know what’s coming out of the actor’s mouth next – and I didn’t hold back. I just let whatever was going on inside of me come out in the character. That was life-changing for me as an actor. It made me realise that there’s nowhere that you can’t go.

Friends would come to see me perform and later say that they hardly recognised me, I was so out of character. As an actor, that’s a huge compliment.

Judi Dench

Judi Dench and Maurice Denham in 1966’s Talking to a Stranger. Photograph: Everett Collection/Alamy

One of Judi Dench’s early roles was this show on BBC Two called Talking to a Stranger, with Michael Bryant, Maurice Denham and Margery Mason. It’s about this family who are at odds with each other. Each of the four parts focuses on one family member’s view of what is going on around them. I thought it was beautiful, amazing and absolutely genius and I just fell in love with Judi. I thought that she was the most amazing actress – and still do. Judi taught me that acting can be at its best when it is very subtly underplayed. The core of believing an actor is buying into the fact that they’re not acting.

I got to play the rather unpleasant suitor of one of her on-screen daughters in Love in a Cold Climate on the BBC in the early 00s. I’m sure I must have said to Judi: ‘I think you’re so wonderful.’ Actors need appreciation and recognition. I suppose for me that will always be for Buffy, because Buffy was so different and so pivotal for its time. The episode called The Body, where Buffy’s mum dies, is the most extraordinary piece of writing and misdirection. I’m very grateful to have done so many evocative things that so many people have latched on to.

Paul Newman

Robert Redford and Paul Newman in 1969’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Photograph: Photos 12/Alamy

I love Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Each act is so brilliantly put together; it’s a stunning piece of writing. Both Robert Redford and Paul Newman are phenomenal, but Newman especially I’ve always loved, because he’s so believable that he instantly transports you into the story. I also loved Henry Fonda in Once Upon a Time in the West, in which he plays the baddie, which is unusual.

I often get cast as baddies. I don’t know why. I play Rupert Mannion on [the Apple TV+ sitcom] Ted Lasso. He’s a particularly unpleasant character and a complete narcissist, but you know where he’s coming from. To make somebody believable, you have to see their point of view. You don’t need to like them, but you have to be on board with what’s driving them.

I’m also in an episode of the new series of Back with David Mitchell and Robert Webb. I get to play a totally self-absorbed character called Charismatic Mike, who was great fun to play. It’s always been my theory that actors are hugely insecure, which is why we love dressing up and being someone else, because we don’t have to be in our own heads and bodies. Then we can express things that we may feel deep down and blame it on the character.

Lord of the Flies

At drama school, I really liked the people on the stage-managing course who were studying things like costume, lighting and prop-making. People used to say: you have to behave like a star to be thought of as a star. So, traditionally, a lot of actors take stage managers for granted.

I get very cross with actors who just throw their clothes on the floor. I said to one actor recently: “Costume are here before you, setting up your clothes, and they’re here after you’ve gone. Pick up your clothes, put them on a hanger in your cupboard. It’s not a big deal.” Teamwork is important.

At school, one of the books that blew me away was Lord of the Flies. It’s also about teamwork and not necessarily someone standing in front becoming the leader. In your teens, the world is yours to do what you want with. As you grow up, you realise you’re just part of something much bigger. Now more than ever, life should be about teamwork and for the cause of the greater good.

School’s Out Forever is available on digital from 15 February and DVD and Blu-ray from 12 April

[silverwhiteraven]

Wings of Broken White - Ch. 3

Tag List: @marichatmay

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 4 ]

[ Summary: Literal and Metaphorical dirt. ]

Hawkmoth had learned the lesson Monarch did not. Do not mix the positive power of a Blessing with negative emotions. Instead, enhance those negative emotions with the power of something else. Let his Champions be fueled by the opposite of a Blessing, something that haunts and feasts on darkness.

Give them Demons; give them an Akuma.

But still. He knew that he had to pick carefully what emotions he harnessed and the people behind them. Hawkmoth couldn’t afford to lose control of another Champion. And Gabriel refused to risk his son.

So he bided his time, researching and studying whatever he could. And while he waited, he built his public empire, funding his underground renovations and the care needed to keep his wife healthy.

Still alive, Emilie was kept that way in a chemically induced coma to prevent further deterioration. To the public, she was missing. In private, she was under the care of doctors from the world’s best medical center, Mayo Clinic.

Adrien would have been aware of her whereabouts were it not for the mistake and loss of control over Monarch’s Blessing. Gabriel had delayed telling his son the truth, and now there was no way to tell what would happen if he knew; what powers White Rose had truly gained beyond what was originally planned.

The thing is, Hawkmoth would have never surfaced if Gabriel could have prevented it. He was ready to let his wife go. But he still needed to find a way to remove the Blessing from Adrien, so he continued to use the Butterfly Miraculous, continued learning about it and the others.

But Adrien just had to go missing one early morning, barely before the sun had risen. Gabriel couldn't find him, neither could Adrien’s ever-present bodyguard. So in an act of desperation, Hawkmoth was brought to be. He then Akumatized the worried and protective bodyguard, granting him an ability to track down their shared ward.

This only furthered things along and also put them to a grinding stop.

The wielders of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous arose to combat Hawkmoth’s Champion. Rather than admit why he was using the Butterfly in a dark way, he decided to reveal his last-ditch plan that he thought he would never bring himself to use, anyways.

He demanded their Miraculous. He was glad they refused, because he would not trust anyone so willing to give up such dangerous powers so easily instead of using them to protect.

So while plans to experiment with the use of Akumas were furthered, it was the mix of one Blessing and one Hero that halted everything.

Paris had very few albino citizens. It would be almost too easy to track down the potential civilian identities of Chat Blanc. But those white wings tipped in blue, so similar yet so contrasting to the black Starling wings of a younger Adrien? There was no way to deny such a similarity. And the Black Cat Miraculous itself would not change it’s own color scheme on a whim, either. Monarch himself had experimented with designs and color palettes, learning that only significant enchantments and magical interference could cause anything even a noticeable difference, not to mention such an extreme as turning Black to White.

The last nail in that theory's coffin was how Hawkmoth could feel the whispers of the Blessing influencing Chat Blanc. Certainly, it could have been a much older Blessing from a previous Butterfly Holder, but Gabriel highly doubted such coincidences could stack like this.

So, Gabriel accepted the facts. He felt heartbroken for his son that had to fight him, even if Chat Blanc didn’t know who he was fighting behind Hawkmoth’s mask. But he was so proud of him, too. Monarch’s Champion White Rose was doing what he was meant to; protect others from the harm of the Miraculous. And Gabriel’s son Adrien was free to be happy, as happy as he never was when inside the Agreste mansion, even when Emilie was still walking its halls. So Gabriel and Hawkmoth did nothing more than play his part as the fatherly villain.

He really didn’t mind how long it would take for it all to come to a close.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Despite her semi-disastrous first time as Ladybug, Marinette rather enjoyed the side-job.

Akuma’s were few and far between, and oftentimes could be talked down instead of fought head to head. Their abilities oftentimes got dangerous, yes, but Ladybug and Chat Blanc, not to mention the rest of Paris, were more than thankful that their Supervillain seemed to have at least some sort of moral code. He would prevent Akumatized villains from causing mass amounts of damage. Once, he had even taken back the powers and the Akuma that granted them, all because the Champion he had made was being unreasonably dangerous to innocent civilians.

Sometimes, she swore Hawkmoth would Akumatize students just so the whole district would have to let school out early due to the emergency. Maybe he had a soft spot for kids, maybe a child of his own? Either way, she appreciated the breaks.

Soon enough, a whole six months had passed since Hawkmoth first appeared.

The most recent attack had been earlier that evening. Marinette had to distract her Akumatized friend Nathaniel. He was akumatized because of Chloé. She had made fun of his art, at first. Then, to make things worse, she told him that he was right to have his and his boyfriend Marc’s hero-sonas to both be wingless, because the ones Nathaniel had were ‘wasted on his talentless existence’ and ‘if Marc wasn’t already wingless, then they would be utterly useless on him, too’. In general, it was a rather nasty scene.

Marinette had been quick to tell her to back off and leave Nathaniel and Marc alone. Adrien has sprung up right after her, telling Chloé not to talk to his friends like that, and even if she is his oldest friend he wasn't okay with her actions.

Marinette was proud of Adrien for standing up for others in the face of someone important to him. It was brave.

Unfortunately, their combined efforts didn’t prevent the Akumatization. Luckily, Evillustrator wasn’t a bad villain, he just really wanted to mess with Chloé with revenge-pranks.

Marinette got herself caught up in it by distracting him with other ideas. For example, using his power to create objects to set up a date with Marc. Chat Blanc had shown up part way into the setup of said date, and as a way to prevent Evillustrator from starting a fight, she had roped him into helping with the decoration ideas and music selection. He turned out to be a natural with romantic set-ups, and an even smoother talker, convincing Evillustrator to hand over his Akumatized item in exchange for them escorting Marc to the date’s location.

Marinette had managed to step away long enough while Blanc went to find Marc to transform into Ladybug, and called for her Lucky Charm just in case. It was nothing more than a red rose and she laughed happily to have a simple item with obvious intentions.

When Blanc returned, she showed herself and offered the rose to her partner, trying not to be flustered by her own romantic gesture. “Hold this for me, Kitty? I need to make sure their date goes well, and that means Nathaniel has to be here for it. Don’t want yours and Marinette's efforts to go to waste, now do we?”

Then, she took the Akumatized item from Blanc and broke it, purifying the butterfly within.

“What about the Lucky Charm?” Chat Blanc looked a tad confused. “As soon as you call for Miraculous Ladybug, everything Evillustrator made will disappear. Their date will go poof!”

Ladybug smiled knowingly. “Already thought that through. You hold on to that rose, okay? Or maybe let Nathaniel hold it? As long as I can find it again later, just make sure it’s safe. I’ll use Miraculous Ladybug long after their date is over, so nothing will get spoiled. Gotta go, Bug out!”

She returned to the scene as Marinette once more, finding a de-Akumatized Nathaniel on a successful date with Marc, and Chat Blanc still watching over them, happy for the couple. Satisfied, she made her way home, away from the setting sun.

Now, it was completely dark out and Marinette was drinking a thermos of hot chocolate on her balcony, wrapped in a warm blanket. The quiet night got interrupted by a shadow moving over the rooftops, followed by white boots lightly thumping onto her balcony. She sat up, surprised to see Chat Blanc still lurking about the city. He bowed theatrically with a gentle smile.

“Princess, what a lovely evening to see you! I presume I have found you safe and happy in your tower tonight?”

Marinette couldn't help but laugh. “You saw me maybe two hours ago, pretty-gryphlet, you know I’m perfectly fine.”

“True, but as your loyal, trustworthy, and handsome White Knight, I am obliged to check on you anyways.” He had bowed again and taken her hand, kissing the air above her knuckles ceremoniously. She had to fight back both her blush and her wing’s desire to flutter bashfully where they were hidden under the blanket.

“Silly gryphlet,” she smiled, before noticing his gloves were stained and had left some of it on her fingers. Then she noticed the dark spots on his boots and knees as well. She frowned in confusion, inspecting what was on her hand. “Why are you covered in dirt?”

“That dirty little secret,” he deflected the question easily with his pun and a cheeky smile, “I will explain soon. But first, I gotta ask, why do you call me ‘pretty Griflet’? I already know I look amazing, but is Griflet a reference to one of the knights of the Round Table? If so, I am honored to have such recognition.”

Marinette laughed and shook her head. “No, not a knight, a gryphon. You know, a mythological creature with the body of a lion and the wings of an eagle? You’re a cat, and you have wings, hence, gryphlet!” She explained proudly, before realizing how embarrassing it was to nickname one of the local Superheroes and retreated into her blanket.

Chat Blanc blinked owlishly at her explanation, but soon a smile bloomed on his face, and she could swear he was blushing under his mask.

“I like it,” he said softly, looking gentle and earnest.

“S-So anyways! Blanc Chat, I mean, Chat Blanc, I uh, You say were? Were saying? About the, uhm, dirt?” She turned away, grabbing her thermos to keep her hands busy.

“Oh! Right!” He brightened even more, his eyes starting to look like that of an excited kitten. “Come with me somewhere, Princess? I know it’s cold out so I won’t keep you long, but I wanted to show you something.”

She nodded, standing up and setting the thermos aside. Then she hesitated, once more remembering her wings. “I...Blanc, can you keep a secret for me?”

“Of course, what is it?” He looked curious and just so innocent. She couldn’t do it.

“Uh, never mind, next time, okay? I don’t think I’m ready. To say anything, I mean, not that I don’t want to see what you want to show me, but also I’m not ready to go yet for that either, wait, i meant-!” She closed her mouth with a snap, sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly. “What I mean is, let me just get something from my room real quick? I should really put on shoes and something warmer than pajamas. Then we can go!”

“Of course! I’ll be here when you’re done.” Oh Kwami, he was so patient with her, and understanding, too. Could he get any nicer, she wondered?

She fumbled her way back into her room, swiftly putting on a wing-binder, thick white leggings, and a warm long-sleeved baby blue dress. She remembered to grab some shoes, too. As she climbed back up to the balcony, she tried to ignore the fact that she had chosen to wear colors close to Chat Blanc’s. From the look on his face, he was probably trying not to think about it too much, either. “Ready, Marinette?”

“Ready. So uhm, how are we going to get there?” she shuffled on her feet, hands fidgeting.

He grabbed the thermos she had set down and put it into her hands, warming them, and subsequently her cheeks, too.

Politely he asked, “Permission to carry you?”

“Granted? Wait, carry? Like, on your back carry or- Woah!” He answered by sweeping her into a classic princess carry. “Uh, works, I guess, this does? I mean- Okay,” she finally squeaked out.

He chuckled and held her securely, but gentle. “Let’s not waste time. Hold on tight!”

She didn't scream dramatically when he jumped from her balcony, but she also won't admit she might have squeaked again from the unfamiliar feeling of jumping over rooftops while untransformed, let alone while being carried.

But the trip to their destination really was rather short, as only a couple minutes later he was setting her back down on her own two feet.

The rooftop was surrounded by decorative iron fencing. Candles, protected from the wind in glass jars, lined the top of the railing and between the bars. What really caught her eyes, however, where the Lily-of-the-Valley flowers spread around decoratively. She couldn't help but gape at them. The scene was gorgeous, and she wondered why Chat Blanc had brought her here. Did he do this? Was this why he was covered in dirt? She turned to him where he stood looking almost nervous for her reaction.

“Chat...It’s beautiful. Did you set this up? Did you get these flowers yourself?”

He perked up, glad to see she wasn’t reacting badly. “I did. I also learned I’m a really bad gardener,” he chuckled, and she smiled, amused. “And don’t worry, I didn’t steal any of this stuff, it was all mine already. Well, sort of. The candles were my Mother’s, and I use them sometimes. The flowers came from our yard- They would have died soon anyways, the brief warm spell this week made them bloom too early, so I thought I might as well put them to use. So, you like it, Marinette?”

She giggled and nodded, looking away shyly. “Why set all this up, anyways? Special night?”

He nodded, his own gaze shy as well. “Sort of? Ladybug trusted me with something. And earlier today, this amazing girl I know helped me take down an Akuma. So I wanted to prove I can be trusted with Ladybug’s thing, while also getting to show that amazing girl how much I appreciated her, even if it is only for a little bit. Here,” he stepped to the side, bringing Marinette’s curious gaze to a small table she hadn't noticed before.

It had a few more candles and flowers on it, but there was a delicate vase in the center. She quietly gasped as she noticed the red rose, Ladybug’s Lucky Charm, sitting in the vase. Chat Blanc plucked it from its place and held it out to her.

“For the most creative and wonderful Princess in all of Paris,” he smiled, bowing as he presented the rose. He chuckled sheepishly, then, “Well, you can’t keep it forever, because it is Ladybug’s, but I figured that if anyone was worthy of keeping it safe until she needed it, that person would be you.”

Dumbfounded and flustered into silence, Marinette accepted the rose with her free hand.

“Well, I guess I should take you back home now, huh?” He asked awkwardly.

“O-Oh, uh, sure,” she agreed, still distracted as she held the red rose close to her chest.

This time, she was prepared for him to lift her, and she stayed quiet on their way back to her balcony. This time, she noticed how warm he was and just how easy it was to trust him even as a civilian. She wouldn't admit to being sad when he set her down again, though.

“Until next time, Princess; I hope to see you again,” once more he took her hand and gave the air over her knuckles a kiss, but before he could let go, she clutched his fingers tight, pulling his attention up to her eyes.

“Uhm- It’s cold out, and I barely touched my hot chocolate anyways.” She turned his hand over and set her thermos into his palm. “Take it with you. You can return it, next time we meet.”

He beamed at her and nodded. “It’s a date,” he winked teasingly, and she giggled. “See you later, then. Have a goodnight, Princess.”

And just like that, he was gone, and Marinette was left a blushing mess on her balcony until Tikki finally came out and told her to go to bed.

In the morning, the red rose was still where she left it on her desk, proving the night before was no dream. Tikki then informed her that it had slushed a bit while she slept, so she should be careful when she goes outside.

Ladybug went off in the early morning to check on Evillustrator’s reactions, only to find that they had been washed away by the sleet. It seemed that just like all other forms of art, even the magical creations of an Akuma were susceptible to the natural elements when exposed long enough.

So that morning, Ladybug returned an intact Lucky Charm to Marinette’s room, and Marinette got to keep the gift of an everlasting red rose.

[kneworder]

I finally got to the infamous ‘I mourned the loss of six’ conversation from season 7 and was instantly filled with rage so here’s my attempt at elongating that conversation to make it make sense. Episode tag to s07e02 Proof. || Read on AO3 | read on Fanfiction.net

why can’t we be ourselves like we were yesterday?

“Look, Reid, I know you're mad at us because we didn't tell you what really happened, and I understand that. But I promise you, we had no choice. You mourned the loss of a friend. I mourned the loss of six. This whole thing gave me an ulcer. Please don't give me another one.”

It takes a while for him to respond, after she says her piece. She almost starts to speak again, the words “Are you gonna go to Rossi’s tomorrow?” on the tip of her tongue, but something about his demeanor gives her pause. They’re not supposed to profile each other, but it’s hard to ignore the undoubtedly painful clench of his jaw. She starts to think that he’s going to stay quiet, just ignore her attempts at patching things up until she goes away. She’s thinking about admitting defeat and doing just that when he finally opens his mouth.

“In those months after… after Georgia,” he starts, voice so measured it barely breaks, “I was… pretty awful to you.” His nose twitches. “Do you know why?”

Emily freezes. He’s never spoken about this before, not to her, and now seems like a rather abrupt time to start. She sits up, tosses her hair behind her shoulder, and tries to ignore the sudden feeling that she’s in out of her depth. “You’d just gone through a major trauma,” she says, carefully avoiding the obvious. “I never held it against you.”

He nods, but doesn’t look up. “And I’m grateful for that. But you know what I mean. It’s kind of an open secret here, isn’t it?”

Emily bites her lip. “Reid--”

“You know, no one ever asked?” He puts the book down, finally meeting her stare, and wow, she really wishes he was still avoiding her gaze, because the sheer hurt in his eyes hits her harder than a punch to the gut. When he continues, it’s in a harsh whisper. “I was-- I was struggling, for so long, and everyone knew. But no one ever asked, not really. And I get it, if anyone said anything I could have lost my job, I understand. But do you have any idea how hard it was to quit on my own?”

“I can’t even imagine,” Emily says diplomatically. Under the table, she keeps her hands still and fights the urge to pick at her nails.

“I don’t resent you. Any of you. That was my problem and I handled it on my own. But no one ever asked in Texas, either. Owen Savage killed eight people less than a week after the anniversary of--” He cuts himself off, swallowing his words and exhaling a shaky breath. He looks down at the still-open book in his hands. “I don’t expect anything more than a professional relationship with my colleagues. I would like to consider all of you friends, but I know that isn’t my right.”

“Reid, we are your friends,” Emily tries, and that was clearly the wrong thing to say because the hurt shifts to anger faster than she can track.

“Oh, really? Are you? Could have fooled me,” he snaps, walls fully back into place.

Emily leans forward and sets her jaw. For a moment, she thinks of a plane ride just a few short years ago, sitting in this same position and telling him that she’d chosen to take a beating for him and she’d do it again. “Reid, that’s not fair. JJ was in an impossible position. She would have told you in an instant if she could have, but it just wasn’t safe.”

“Why?” he demands. “Why wasn’t it safe? What, was Doyle going to stalk all of us? You think we wouldn’t have kept it secret? You didn’t trust us, I don’t see why I have any reason to trust you anymore.”

“Four years of working together isn’t reason enough?”

“That’s the funny thing about trust. Way easier to break than to build.” He huffs out a sigh. “Look, Emily, when I found out you were alive, I thought I had to be dreaming, I was so relieved. I really am happy to have you back. I’d just appreciate it if everyone would stop acting like just because your death was fake, the grief was too. No one -- no one ever asks, or if they do, they don’t listen, and that’s okay, they shouldn’t have to.” His grip on the book tightens. “It’s just that the only time I actually told was when I showed up at JJ’s doorstep.”

“She was just trying to help,” Emily says, resolute.

“I lost you, Emily,” he says, his voice choked. “You don’t understand, you were dead. I know you just want things to go back to normal, because you’re tired of this and you just want to move on, but you don’t get it. You didn’t mourn us, you knew that we were safe and alive the whole time. We were here, and to us, you were in the ground. Even if JJ was trying to help, it doesn’t change the fact that she kept you there.” He gives her that classic Dr. Reid half smile, the one that doesn’t reach his eyes, and says, “I don’t know how to go back to normal, Emily. I don’t know if I can.”

For a moment, she is well and truly stunned. Reid isn’t Hotch, he’s never hidden behind heavy silence and a face of stone, but Emily truly can’t think of the last time she’s heard him this vulnerable. She’d missed him in Paris, missed those awkward smiles and rambling sentences. In some detached way, she’d known that he would miss her too. She’d envisioned her funeral time and time again, she’d pictured the shock and the grief and the loss. But she’d also pictured the healing. The team would go on without her, just as it had without Gideon, and without Elle Greenaway before him. Seaver would pick up her slack, they’d find someone else for the rest. She’d needed to believe that they would be okay.

Emily never found normal in Paris. Life settled into routine, but it never felt right, not until she took those first few steps back into the round table room. It had felt like a homecoming.

She’d just been naive to think that her home could be the same as it was seven months ago.

Emily had been a spy for years and yet she thinks that Reid has faced more betrayal in his young life than she saw in her whole career. Gideon betrayed him in leaving, just as his father did so long ago. His mother, no matter how involuntarily, betrayed him every time she looked at him without recognition, every time she remembered paranoid delusions more clearly than she remembered her own son. The team, as much as they are loath to admit it, had betrayed him after Georgia by responding to his newfound anger rather than his shaking hands and desperate cries for help.

Emily wants this to be simple. She needs simplicity after living in a web of secrets and lies for so long she started to forget the truth. But this isn’t simple, and she can’t will a miracle fix into existence by pretending nothing is really broken.

This is something she -- and Hotch, and JJ, but right now, just she -- has to work at.

She hesitates, then reaches out a hand. He looks down at it, but doesn’t flinch when she grips his arm. ‘I don’t know how to go back to normal,’ he’d said, and it hits her then. “I shouldn’t have asked you to,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

He stills under her hand, swallowing hard.

“I know you’re hurt, and honestly, you have every right to be. I’m sorry for the way everything was handled. Everything,” she says, trying to convey that she means more than just the past seven months. “I’m sorry for leaving.” He looks up sharply, eyes wide like he’s been caught. She gives him a meaningful look. Profiler, remember? she thinks. “I didn’t want to, and I swear to you, it seemed like my only option. But I’m back now, and I promise, I’m not going anywhere this time.”

He gives her a jerky nod, and she knows that he doesn’t entirely believe it. She can’t blame him, the kid’s so used to abandonment by now that he practically expects it, but it still makes her heart sink.

Emily steels herself.

She knows it’s not all hers to fix, but she’ll do whatever she can. “I’m back, Reid. And right now, I’m asking. How can I fix it? Or at least, how can I help?”

“Time?” He blurts, like the word has been lodged in his throat. “Please just don’t pretend like everything is okay, not yet. I’m just-- I’m mad, and I’m… “ He trails off. Takes a deep breath. “Time. That’s all I want.”

“Alright,” she says. He looks impossibly young all of a sudden, his eyes bright with unshed tears. She tries to smile at him, but she’s filled with too much concern, too much regret, for her expression to be anything but sad. “I can give you that.”

And when he shows up at Rossi’s that night, she doesn’t comment on the obvious tension that still radiates from every interaction between him and JJ. She doesn’t try to intervene or call him on it, and she glares down Hotch when he starts to.

It’s not all fixed, it’s not all better, and it’ll be some time before they’ll be able to say it is. She sees that now.

But when she watches Reid genuinely laugh at JJ’s impression of Henry on his first trip to the beach, she thinks she can see that happy future a little bit more clearly.

It’ll just take time.

[theherothechampiontheinquisitor]

12.16.1991 - Chapter 1

Rated: G - Canon Typical Violence

Realtionships: Pepperony, Howard/Maria Stark, Iron Dad, Rhodey & Tony Friendship

Summary: On December 16th, 1991 Howard and Maria Stark were killed in a tragic car accident. Or at least that's what their son and the world is left to believe. 25 years later, Helmut Zemo lures Tony, Steve and Bucky into a Siberian Hydra base to reunite a family...and use The Winter Soldier to destroy it once and for all.

OR

Howard and Maria were kidnapped by The Winter Soldier and forced to work for Hydra. Through a turn of events they are reunited with Tony, and Howard sets out to make good on the promise he made to himself when he was captured...to begin the long road of making amends with his son.

Some additional thoughts/warnings: This is Howard Stark friendly. I know a lot of people hate him and there's comics where the character is abusive to Tony and Maria but that's not this world. I am going singularly off of the Howard Stark presented to us in Agent Carter and the brief glimpses in the MCU. Do I think Howard was a good parent? No. He has definitely made a lot of mistakes, but I don't think he is an irredeemable monster either. The second half of the story will be him trying to fix things with Tony and working through why he behaved so distantly. If that is not your bag then I can't say you'll enjoy this. Please don't come at me with Howard hate.

Not everything will be exactly like the movies.

Also HUGE HUGE thank you to @takadasaiko, my faithful cheerleader, idea giver, all around fantastic motivator. I would have never gotten this far without your help and our mutual appreciation for layered characters. <3

READ IT ON AO3

***********

December 16th, 1991

“Asset?”

The voice brought him out of his daze, thoughts finally cleared and focused, pain falling away like a mask from someone else’s body. His cold eyes focused on the man before him.

“Ready to comply,” came the hoarse rasp that always accompanied his awakenings.

“Mission critical. Search and retrieve. First the serums and then the witnesses. I want them brought in alive.”

He nodded his head affirmatively. This would be an easy task.

“Mission marks?”

The scientist smiled slowly exposing crooked and slightly yellowed teeth. “Howard and Maria Stark.” He waited to see if the name would spark any recognition but the Winter Soldier’s face was expressionless as always. “There is a son… Anthony. We are not concerned about him. Do not engage.”

The assassin nodded in acknowledgement and stood, his restraints having finally been removed. His metal arm felt stiff and he rotated it around until he had full range of motion. He towered before the scientist but the man showed no visible fear aside from the quiet rise and fall of his throat as he gulped back a breath of air.

“Mission launch time?”

“Tonight. Prepare yourself.”

The soldier nodded. He had his orders and he knew what he must do. Soon Howard and Maria Stark would be nothing but a ghost of a memory to the world. He needed to prepare.

***

The short ride from the house and to SHIELD headquarters had mostly been silent and Howard knew enough that it meant he was in trouble. He stole glances across the car to his wife but she remained glued to the window, watching as small flakes of snow began to fall over the road.

He reached out to take her hand but she didn't let his touch linger. She pulled away and rested her hands back in her lap and out of his reach.

"Maria…" he sighed. This was not how their vacation was supposed to begin. Of course it also wasn't supposed to involve him transporting a possible trial replication of the super soldier serum either, but he had a job to do too. All he had to do was work now and he'd be free to shoot golf and spend time with his wife by the time their plane landed in the Bahamas.

"It would be helpful to know what I've done so that I can begin to make amends for it and skip the sulking altogether," he offered in the darkness. It was difficult to discern her features in the dark, the only light coming from the street lamps brief flashes as they drove the winding road.  

Howard had been married long enough however to instantly recognize that particular glare and upturned lip she leveled him with.

It was about the boy.  It always seemed to be these days.  So, he waited, allowing her to gather her thoughts in the silence. Maria was never one to hold back long.

He wracked his mind in the meantime of all his interactions with Tony since he'd returned from Europe on Friday. They'd exchanged a couple barbs and sarcastic comments but this was positively tame compared to how they normally got on. Neither of them had even raised their voices once.

The next bend came across steeper and Howard adjusted his speed in the winter weather.  He didn't need them to get into a car accident on top of the already heavy atmosphere he found himself faced with.

"Would it kill you to say something kind to him, just once? It's Christmas," Maria exclaimed as if that was the answer to repairing the chasm between father and son.

He resisted rolling his eyes knowing it would only make her more upset. Tony had always been a delicate subject between them. He was her baby, 21 years old and throwing toga parties behind their back or not.  She always saw him as that wide eyed baby boy she brought screaming into this world.  

Howard used to be envious of their effortless connection. They always understood each other without words and yet Howard for all his genius couldn't even break through the defenses to his son who was so much like himself. He told himself it wasn't from lack of trying but he would be kidding himself. The best he could do was a half drunken confession on an 8mm Tony would probably never see. Or even want to see at this rate.

He never was able to dwell on their relationship for too long. There was always something else he needed to do for Shield, some other invention that Obadiah was breathing down his neck about to create or a tip about the possible crash site of his long gone best friend, Steve Rogers. Tony fell away to the back burner more and more until Howard blinked and his son no longer wanted his attention.

"What did you want me to say Maria?" He asked tiredly, the subject of his failed parenting sapping his energy. "Thank you Tony, for not making international headlines for the second time this year, the PR team appreciates the break? He's not a child anymore Maria. He needs to be preparing to be a CEO, not a Playgirl cover model."

That had been a fun and unexpected month of damage control when that surprise magazine cover dropped to newsstands.

"How many times do I have to tell you that he's acting out for you? He's desperate for your attention Howard, and you're hardly one to be judging lifestyle choices. I seem to remember you not being much different around his age," she reminded him, eyes not leaving his face, daring him to refute her comments.

"Before I met you perhaps, " he conceded.  "Before we lost Cap…" Howard shook his head once to clear it even as his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. Even now Steve Rogers was a sore subject. A constant reminder of his first greatest failure in life.

Maria softened a little and reached for him, her hand offering his thigh a gentle squeeze.  "An I love you goes a long way, you know? It won't fix everything but I refuse to believe that this can't be mended Howard. Talk to him. Really talk to him. He loves you so much and you won't let him show it. God forbid if something were to happen…would you really want that interaction this morning to be the last words you said to him? Think about it."

Howard said nothing, keeping his eyes trained on the road, windshield wipers turned up as the snow fell harder. He really needed to get them to the airfield before they ended up stranded on these lonely back roads.  There were no chains on their tires and they'd surely be stuck if it continued sticking to the road.

He wanted to argue with Maria,  tell her she was wrong, but she hadn't been wrong in their marriage yet. Tony was crying out for help, negative attention being better than no attention at all.  He should know. He had done the same to his father, for all the good it had done. His father died before Howard could ever make something of himself.

Christ he needed a drink, but that would have to wait until they made it to their plane. He increased the pressure on the gas slightly, Maria's words filling his mind.

***

The Winter Soldier watched as the Stark's Lincoln passed by the dark bend of road where he lay lurking in patience. As soon as they were around the bend he turned his motorcycle on with a rumble, light shining across the snowy road.

The cold had never bothered him and he found it easy to increase his speed to match the vehicle in the distance. He trekked safely behind them at first,  watching and waiting for the narrow stretch of road he'd make his move on.

***

The car had been silent since Maria's last request. She had resumed looking out the window dutifully until her eyes slowly grew heavier and closed altogether.

Howard loved watching her as she slept. For a moment all the cares and worries were gone from her face, wrinkles turning to smooth skin. She looked younger. Happier. A disconcerting thought that her happiest moments lie in the hours she was not awake, and Howard knew he had to try harder. If only for her.  

He didn't think much of the vehicle that came up behind them, seemingly out of nowhere. These roads were quiet but well used. He adjusted the rear-view mirror as the vehicle's headlight burned bright into the front end, making it difficult to see.

Asshole.

The vehicle continued trailing them, but soon picked up the pace, alternating between riding on their bumper and backing off. Howard didn't like this at all. He had one hand on the car phone in the center console when the vehicle made its move.

It was a motorcycle and it swung around to the passenger side with skill and ease, the slippery roads seemingly having no effect on its capabilities.

Howard pulled the phone off the hook immediately and held down on the number 1 speed dial to Peggy Carter.  

The man on the motorcycle used that time to attack and brought a glint of metal crashing against the back passenger window.

The hit was powerful. Howard dropped the receiver to the floor, both hands flying to the wheel trying to steady the already swerving vehicle, but it was no use, the brakes had locked up and were unable to gain traction on the snow covered roads. Howard could only hope to lessen the speed of their impact.

The last thing that went through Howard Stark's mind, as the metal impacted upon the tree trunk, was not the terrified cry of his name from Maria or the loud voice calling his name from the receiver of the dropped phone.

It was an image of his son the last time he saw him, Christmas hat jauntily covering his face,  wearing that old Mister Softees ice cream shirt that Howard had always hated but Tony had always loved.

And he thought, maybe an I love you every now and then wouldn't have been so hard.

Instead, he knew, his son would always wonder if his father had ever cared about him at all.

***

The Winter Soldier watched satisfactorily as the vehicle swerved off to the side of the road and into a tree. A severe impact but not fatal. He passed by them and then looped back around, pulling off the road a safe distance away.

He detected movement from the front seat as he approached the vehicle, but it was slow and dazed. They were no threat to him as he crashed his metal arm against the trunk and opened it. He pushed aside golf clubs and suitcases of clothing until he found what he was looking for.

The slightest indentation of fabric revealed the false trunk bottom and directly beneath was a silver suitcase.

He heard a thump from the driver side door and shuffling through the snow but it didn't matter. The suitcase was opened and the serum contents confirmed. The soldier removed the case and gently replaced the false bottom, smoothing the panel out and covering it back up.

"Maria...help my wife," the dazed voice rang out, not realizing he called out to his enemy.

The soldier looked the white haired man over finally approaching and grasping the man's head in his palm, forcing him to look up. He was bleeding from a head wound and from some cuts where glass had hit his face but he would be fine. His mission was a success.

***

"Please help her…" Howard heaved out to the stranger again, desperately trying to catch his breath in the cold air.

When his eyes were finally able to focus his confusion only grew.

"Sergeant Barnes?" Impossible. He had been dead for over thirty years now.

The Winter Soldier froze for the slightest moment, a spark of recognition lighting in the back of his mind as Bucky screamed to break free. Unnerved he shook it off, quashing the memory.

"Marks ready for transport. The serums are accounted for," he spoke into a small communication device hidden in his sleeve.

Howard shook his head again trying to swim through his confusion to grasp hold of the situation.

"The serums?" He looked and saw the silver suitcase in the man's mechanical hand. This was bad. He had to get those back. Get Maria, get the serums and get the hell out of here and to safety.

"Howard?" He heard his wife’s voice croak miserably from the car.

"Stay," the soldier said releasing his head with a shove, sending his body down into the snow and began making his way around to the passenger side of the car.

"No. Leave her alone," he called weakly. His ribs screamed in protest as he tried to right his body but he had to protect his wife. And he needed to get the phone. He needed to call Peggy. She would help them. She always did. He turned and began to pull his battered body forward towards the open driver's side door.

Maria Stark sat in the passenger seat and looked up at the winter soldier in terror. She also had bleeding from her head but she seemed more in shock than anything. She screamed as he reached in and pulled her from the car,  Howard’s name on her lips as she struggled vainly.

The soldier came around the car and threw the woman to the ground quickly when he realized Howard had moved from his position and was reaching for something inside. He grabbed him by the back of his jacket and tossed him backwards again before inspecting the inside of the vehicle.

There on the floor a phone receiver dangled precariously. He grasped it with his metal arm and held it to his ear, listening for anyone on the other end. There was nothing but silence. He lingered a moment longer before placing it back on the hook in the center console.

A dark van came to a halting stop in the road, several men in dark clothes jumping out and removing what looked to be two large body bags. The ones not busy with the bags rushed across the road and the winter soldier supervised as they grabbed the injured Stark's and hauled them to their feet, leading them towards the vehicle.

Howard Stark struggled against the Hydra agents as they lead him, and the winter soldier delivered a swift blow to his side. The man groaned and was involuntarily compliant after that.

The pair were loaded into the back of the vehicle, roughly, the soldier monitoring the scene.

"You won't get away with this," Howard mustered through measured breaths, eyes scanning over the familiar man.

"We'll see," came the quiet response before black hoods were shoved over the couple's heads and the door was slammed shut in finality.

***

Peggy Carter had been getting ready for bed when her phone began ringing. Only a few people would call her so late at night and only one of them was on a mission of sorts.

"Howard?"

No sooner had she spoke before she heard the sound of what could only be Maria in the background calling out for Howard before there was a loud crashing noise.

Peggy nearly dropped the phone the crash was so deafening.

Instantly she jumped into action, thankful now for the new cordless phone Howard had introduced her to. She moved to her 2nd phone line and dialed into Shield. She called for a trace to be placed on the first line, hazard of the job, to narrow down the pair's location and a team to be on standby as soon as the trace came through.

Peggy tried calling out to Howard a couple times but it was clear he couldn't hear anything she was saying. She heard some more indistinct chatter in the background and so remained still, listening for anything that could give away the location or what was happening.

She held her breath when a deep breath came through the receiver, Peggy sat there like that, not daring to make a single noise. Then there was a click and a dial tone as the phone was disconnected.

Peggy let out a deep breath, anxiety welling within her at whatever had just transpired. She could only hope that they had enough time for the trace.

[rickyriddle]

Kaminaga Kouko analysis

Hi there! I’m back with a new AnR analysis, this time about Kouko! After Suzu it’s time to analyze our favourite class representative. It had been a while I wanted to make an analysis of her, I was supposed to do her before Suzu but ended up doing Suzu as a request for someone. But now it’s Kouko’s time, the girl deserves some recognition, and I’m going to give it to her.

So, let’s start by examining Kouko’s past. We know that Kouko is an orphan, so her parents died when she was a child and she was ‘welcomed’ by an orphanage, who is actually a criminal organization training kids to become assassins, seemingly specializing in bombs. Kouko was good at making plans but terrible at handling bombs. It made her an easy target for bullying. It didn’t seem as intense as what Shiena went through, from what we seem it seems to be mainly mockery, but to be put down like that by people of her age and view as a failure by the adults must have given Kouko a pretty bad esteem of herself. Her only source of happiness was her senpai and mentor Irena, probably what kept her from breaking, and she, unfortunately, killed her by accident as a teenager. It didn’t help with her esteem, made her feel terribly guilty, and increase the hate her superiors had towards her. Kouko was basically sent at Class Black because it was judges as an unimportant mission and didn’t want to waste a good assassin on it. 

Here’s a little headcanon about Kouko’s orphanage. I personally think they are a religious fanatic group, terrorists. The catholic orphanage could be a cover-up, but in one scene they really seemed to imply they do believe in God, which is strange for an assassin organization unless they are extremists. Irena also implied in KnR that she never kissed anyone because she “chose that kind of life”, which lead me to believe she’s an actual nun, thus religious. The fact they are religious and use bombs really give me a big terrorist vibe, but that’s only my opinion and I won’t use it for the rest of the analysis, I just wanted to share this headcanon with you (and having a terrorist among the assassin add some ‘diversity’ in the cast).

Back to what’s canon. From what we have seen in the series, well during Class Black, Kouko was acting really assertive, bossy, challenging anyone who wanted to question her authority. She was determined, focus, hardworking, smart, act confident and didn’t want to accept failure. Despite her clumsiness, from what we see she was a rather competent class representative. But in the flashback before Class Black, where she was also a teenager, Kouko looked more submissive, she lacks confidence, she was shy. Even her voice sounded different. It was way soft and high pitched before Class Black, and during Class Black, it was way deep. And it’s not like there were a lot of years between those two periods, she looked the same age. It seems to indicate that she forces herself to sound deeper now, to assert her authority and dominance, to not be viewed as weak.

Kouko tried to make herself look assertive and in control, she seeks positions of power, she wants to be in charge, she wants people to rely on her, and she can’t accept failure. It’s like she was craving for some feeling of superiority, not to put down others, but to put herself up. Even if Kouko is trying to assert her authority on others, she doesn’t try to put them down, all she wants is putting herself up. She doesn’t want to feel above others, she wants to be at the same level at them while protecting her need to feel in power.

Let’s examine a little bit of Kouko’s psychology. We don’t know at what age she lost her parents but we can assume she was young, so it’s possible that she didn’t experience much parental love as a child. She was disliked by her classmates and by the adults around her, the only person who seemed to love her was Irena. To be overall disliked by others and lacking love as a child must have a serious effect on her self-esteem. Also, accidentally killing the only person who gave her love, her only source of happiness, the person who was giving her self-worth, must have left her with a deep feeling of guiltiness, remorse, and possibly hatred against herself. All of this must have left a feeling of inferiority in Kouko.

And this is where I wanted to bring you. If you read my AnR mental illness post you know what’s coming next. I’m talking about Kouko’s mental issues. She’s a prime example of someone suffering from an inferiority complex.

Let’s start with a symptom of inferiority complex, low self-esteem. People with low self-esteem have heavy self-criticism, Kouko views herself as a failure. Hypersensitivity to criticism, Kouko was quick to challenge others who question her authority and get really sensitive when Suzu asked her question about her wish. Perfectionism, Kouko wants everything to be perfect and doesn’t accept failure. Neurotic guilt, she feels guilty over Irena’s death. Floating hostility, she’s quick to argue with people who question her authority or doubt her. Pessimism, I would say that in general, Kouko is a pretty pessimistic person. Envy, she expresses resentment against Tokaku for being an elite assassin while she’s a weak assassin.

But what about the inferiority complex. From what I read, it can be rooted in the young child’s original experience with weakness, helplessness and dependancy. As a child, Kouko was treated as weak, she was forced to be an assassin, making her helpless, and dependant on Irena, her only source of happiness. It can be intensified by comparison to others, and I have no doubt that the teachers at the orphanage kept comparing her to the kids who were more competent than her. Kouko seems to display a certain “superiority complex”, a desire to appear superior in a way, dominant, assertive, in control, a craving for position of powers. But superiority complex can be a defence mechanism against inferiority complex, which I believe is the case with Kouko. She feels inferior and to cope with it, she tries to compensate with a need for power, dominance and control over others, to try to put herself up and gave herself self-confidence. She’s so desperate for it that she literally changed her voice just to look more assertive. And when she loses or fails, she feels worthless again and breaks in cry, feeling overcome by her deep feeling of inferiority.

I have been told that I view characters too much through mental illness, so let’s talk about Kouko’s traits that are personal to her and not to a disorder. I talked about it before, but Kouko is extremely clumsy, it’s a little quirk of hers. It could be the result of her inferiority complex, but Kouko is clumsy since she’s a child, so I think it’s more something personal to her that may have gotten worst with her overall low self-esteem. But I still consider that her clumsiness is part of her personality. Kouko is also shown trying to help Haru with her homework, showing that Kouko is willing to help others. It may be related to her class representative role, but I feel like she genuinely wants to help people, deep down she has a good and generous heart, but was forced to bury it in order to be an assassin. Kouko still tried to kill Haru with no hesitation, showing that she’s capable of murder (she’s just incompetent at it… well she’s better with a gun than bombs, we have to give her that). Something I found really interesting with Kouko happened during her childhood, Irena said her “blueprint” (I think it was some bomb blueprint?) was well done, and some kid mocks her, saying that “drawing well means nothing”. Sure it was a blueprint, but I have the feeling Kouko might have some artistic talent, she’s good with a pencil. She could either be good at designing other types of blueprints (possible future jobs? Tho I headcanon her as a doctor in the future), or, she could use her skills with a pencil for more creative stuff, like drawing. Would it be cute for Kouko to have as a hobby drawing? Maybe that would help her get some self-esteem, have a passion, feel some enjoyment in life, learning to love herself. I’m all for the Kouko to become an artist later in life. Also, during the epilogue, Kouko successfully escape from her organization despite the risk, showing how brave she is, and we saw that in KnR she did it to honour Irena’s wish that wanted her to be a hope for everyone (that it was possible to escape I presume and live a normal life), showing that Kouko is someone who will go out of her way to honour someone’s wish.

So, we’re arriving at the shipping part. I suppose I should talk about Kouko’s relationship with Suzu. But I can’t do that without talking about her relationship with Irena first. Irena was Kouko’s senpai, her mentor, her role model, the only source of happiness and self-worth at the orphanage. Kouko was dependant on her, and when she lost her it left a void in her heart and a deep feeling of worthlessness. Irena was like the sun in her life, and without her, she’s stuck in a dark and cold night (okay that sounded cheesy but you get my point).

Okay, now we can talk about Suzu. She’s not a replacement for Irena, but she’s a new mature and adult person in Kouko’s life, a new person she can rely on. Suzu is like a mentor to her, teaching her stuff, helping her with her life (and literally saving her life in KnR). This is what Kouko needs in her life, an adult with experience to help her out, to heal her heart from the loss of Irena. Kouko needs emotional support, to feel appreciated by someone, someone to guide her, and Suzu is the right person for that. They are both lonely and hurt by life, and having each other can help them both to heal their own inner wound. Suzu and Kouko have more of a grandma/grandchild relationship than a romantic one, Suzu does look like she has a little crush on Kouko, but we have yet to see Kouko reciprocate those feelings. I personally ship them as a romantic couple, but as they are portrayed in the series, they are canonly pretty platonic.

Wow, working on this analysis made me realize how deep Kouko is as a character despite her low screentime, I genuinely feel bad for her, her past is really sad, and I sincerely wish her to be happy in the future (with Suzu, of course).

So in conclusion, Kouko is someone struggling with low self-esteem and an inferiority complex due to a childhood devoid of love and appreciation, she hides it behind an assertive and power-seeking persona, but deep down she’s a generous, honourable, brave and determined person, with possibly the soul of an artist. If she starts a new life (possibly with Suzu) she might finally learn to love herself and be happy, and especially, be free. 

That will be all for my Kouko analysis, thanks for reading and if you have any comment, stuff you want to add or questions, don’t hesitate to ask me!

ps: may add a video later to illustrate one of my points.

[palmviolet]

hii! may i just ask you why/how the mom steve meme is sexist?

thank you for asking so politely!! i’m happy to talk about it (and i think it ought to be discussed).

okay, so let’s talk about mom steve.

steve is a teenage boy. the foundations of his character were set as the stereotypical 80s high school douche, a kind of foil to jonathan, whom nancy was always ultimately going to choose over steve - regardless of how steve’s character developed later on. then the duffers met joe keery, and decided to take his character in a different direction. he starts the series as your high school bully, though the take on the trope is more nuanced than it was originally, but by the end of season 1 he’s starting to redeem himself.

this is all good. it’s more interesting, actually, than the more typical archetype fulfilled by billy in season 2. the duffers are all about nuance.

so let’s go to joyce in season 1. joyce embodies another archetype - the stricken, frantic, hysterical mother. the narrative could easily dismiss her, but instead a large proportion of the series is from her perspective: we see her use of the christmas lights not as a delusion but as a rational, logical experiment. we as the audience are desperate for the others to believe her. so here, too, there is another subversion of a trope - and when her beliefs are validated by hopper, literally part of the institutions that dismiss her (he is ex-army, the police chief, a man), she is still a fundamental part of uncovering the mystery and finding her son. he doesn’t take over. without her, they never would have succeeded.

all this she does in aid of her child. she gets called crazy, delusional, a mess even by her own son, jonathan - but she doesn’t give up.

to summarise so far - in season 1, both steve and joyce subvert tropes. joyce overcomes institutional sexism by her strength and belief as a mother.

onto season 2. the crisis - the monster du jour - isn’t so glaring this time, but creeps up on the narrative. will is present and for a while joyce can be more relaxed. she has a boyfriend now - bob - and they seem happy together. we learn than she and hopper went to high school together. we discover she - and the other characters - are still heavily traumatised by the events of season 1. nancy is too, and she’s struggling in her relationship with steve. but instead of framing their breakup around her trauma, around how they simply don’t work together anymore because they’ve both grown to be different people, the show seems to favour steve and make it less than amicable. we are made to feel sorry for steve, poor, dumped steve, instead of placing the two on equal ground.

@jancys-blue-bayou made a good post about this a while back, when the teaser for s3 came out. in it they discuss steve in season 2; ‘they began […] by making him “a loser” through his relationship with nancy ending in a way that humiliated his frail male ego and then king steve losing his crown to billy, so he’s not popular in high school now. just like jonathan’s never been.’ essentially they begin to shape steve into what jonathan used to be - a loner, an outcast, someone the audience should sympathise with. the kind of character stranger things has always been about.

meanwhile the whole mess with will begins, and joyce has no other focus once again - her relationship with bob falls by the wayside, unless he becomes relevant to will again (calling him up about the tape, inviting him in to help them solve the map). within the narrative this is perfectly understandable - her son is going through something horrible, again, of course he’s all she cares about - but we lose any sense of joyce the person, again. she’s just joyce the mom. contrast this with hopper, who is treated very differently by the narrative. he has multiple plotlines, emotional beats. as @nancykali puts it, ‘the duffers didn’t want to deal with their only main adult female character having a storyline outside of will and hopper. oh but wait - hopper could get his storylines as joyce’s love interest, a support for will, and an adoptive parent to el though, couldn’t he? that’s unbalanced and sexist storytelling.’

so, to recap - while joyce is reduced down to just the Mom (which was fine in s1, because of the urgency of the situation and the fact that this was a new show, none of the characters had been developed much yet, but starts to become alarming in s2) which by default makes her less relatable, less of a figure for the audience to connect with, steve is deliberately cast as a multi-faceted, sympathetic character. joyce’s ‘story is no less than hopper’s but it’s treated as lesser by the canon because she’s a woman and her role is Mother First, Human Second. but if a man decides to be a father he deserves to be lauded, where for a mother to adopt a little girl, that’s too predictable to some people.’ this last bit is in reference to hopper, but it works for steve too. steve giving attention to the kids and acting protective over them for what amounts to one afternoon is celebrated far beyond anything joyce has done, because it’s breaking type. and sure, that can be a good thing. when the series first came out i really enjoyed babysitter steve.

but that’s all he is. a babysitter. joyce is a real mom, and yet because she’s a woman, that’s her job description. but because steve is a teenage boy, who used to be something of a bully, he gets praise far beyond what he might deserve.

being a mother is what drives joyce’s narrative arc - and that’s wrong, and misogynistic, because she deserves to be fleshed out and given other plotlines too - and her character would literally have nothing without it. it feels like a slap in the face, then, for it to be steve who is labelled ‘best mom’ - steve, who has multiple facets to his character, steve who is a teenage boy, steve who is affluent and male and up until recently embodied the trope of 80s highschool bully. joyce is quite literally a single mom and we are shown that she often struggles to make ends meet. she’s had nervous breakdowns in the past, she works weekends and nights and holidays, she relies on jonathan almost as a co-parent to will. she’s a flawed mother, but she does her goddamn best because her life is hard - and despite all this she finds time to actively know and engage with her sons’ interests, to play with them, to have jokes with them. this is being a good mom.

‘mom steve’ is perpetuated by fandom, but it is rooted in the show. take the first s3 teaser: ‘they have him work a menial job that has fans of the mom meme write stuff like “steve got a minimum wage job to take care of his five kids”’. both joyce and jonathan work/have worked menial jobs to support their family, possibly both at minimum wage - while steve is very notably and explicitly affluent. in fact if any character in the show who is not a mom deserves to be called one, it’s jonathan, who is in all but name a co-parent to will. i think @jancys-blue-bayou and @nervousalligator have written on this in the past.

however, applying the term ‘mom’ to these male characters at all is sexist by itself. it promotes the idea that only women can be caregivers - that parenting is only the duty of the mother, and is nothing to do with men. this is highly misogynistic, links back to age-old gender roles that it’s high time were erased, and yet the meme perpetuates them. steve is male. if anything, he should be called ‘dad steve’ - but people won’t run with that, because it’s all a joke. because motherhood is a joke. joyce is defined by being a mother and yet she gets no recognition for it, while steve is not a mother, has multiple plotlines and facets beyond that meme, and yet is lauded as the best mom of all.

it’s actually a manner of woobifying him. he’s not a perfect character, not of them are, yet this ‘mom’ caricature somehow strives to paint him as such. it’s the same with hopper, in his parenting of el - his obvious flaws are dismissed across the fandom because of sweet father-daughter moments. i love hopper as a character, and i can appreciate steve, but often people simply don’t understand them. as @paris-geller-was-straightwashed puts it, ‘y’all will soften the males of this show all the way down until they literally don’t have any sharp edges anymore.’ the male characters become perfect, can do no wrong, while the women are criticised for their every mistake (see the treatment of nancy post s2).

it’s a cycle. the show began it, when they tried to promote steve the best way they knew how - by shaping him into a prototype of jonathan, except without any flaws and much, much richer - and the fandom picked it up and ran with it. this led to fanservice, with the scoops ahoy teaser and the stranger things twitter (don’t think i’ve forgiven the mothers’ day tweet). with any luck the fandom will wise up a little or the creators will stop pandering to them, but we’ll have to see the outcome of s3. regardless, it’s time to stop calling steve a mom. if anything, he’s a big brother to dustin - yet another role that was somewhat snatched from jonathan (see the scene at the end of s1 when jonathan comes down to mike’s basement at the end of the d&d game - he’s a big brother figure to all the boys). people call steve a mom because he gave dustin advice - horrible, sexist advice (‘treat ‘em like you don’t care’) - and put a tea towel on his shoulder. that’s it.

so maybe appreciate steve as his own character, a babysitter at most, because you’re doing him a disservice by woobifying him and calling him a ‘mom’. appreciate joyce, who is an actual mom, and maybe start lobbying the duffers for more development for their female characters rather than for more sexist memes.

TLDR; joyce is defined by being a mother and yet she gets no recognition for it, while steve is not a mother, has multiple plotlines and facets beyond that meme, and yet is lauded as the best mom of all.

[gofancyninjaworld]

Thoughts on One-Punch Man Season 2: But what about the story?

Second part: So much for the structure, what was the effect?

Just before the second season started, I posted about what I hoped I’d see, assuming it ended where it did. Let’s see how they did. 

Yup, I keep cutting the words, but the bastards keep multiplying

The Story Itself

What I’d hoped for:

There’s a lot less of the monster of the week situation, this series. I love the care with which the Monster Association goes about attacking. What looked like random stuff (egregiously stretched out by the tournament), will come together to be a coherent and potent threat that will leave us viewers desperate to find out how the Hero Association replies.

[…]

And at the end of this season, even though we’ve had a very interesting time of it, none of it will be over.  The stakes will have been delineated, the battle lines drawn and I really hope that J.C. Staff does enough to make it clear why we should care enough to come back for season 3 whenever it airs.

What we got:

No question about it, there’s a Monster Association and it’s pretty serious. We got their ultimatum to the Hero Association and there’s no question that they’re taking it seriously. The problem comes with the overall lack of energy and urgency in the treatment of the plot.  We’re missing bodies, broken buildings, landed punches, follow through, all the things that sell that sense of urgency, of a situation that’s threatening to spin out of all control.  Which is a pity, because then we don’t get the sense of relief once the monsters disappear, only to be replaced with foreboding as the Monster Association makes its demands.  

They really can’t use time as an excuse for that.  It was really bad scripting with a tendency to soft-soap all impacts by panning away at critical moments.  It’s a real shame when episode 7 (19) is named ‘Class S Heroes’ – the heavy cavalry whom should turn the tides of battle – and we see very little of how they work.  The rare times they have followed through with blows, the entire mood of the episode changes for the better. 

It’s interesting that when chapter 84 was released, it felt like an excellent season finale.  And it could have been, but for the lack of a build up in tension and urgency that should have been sustained all season long.  So many missed opportunities – like little scenes of Atomic Samurai going in person to Bang’s dojo only to find it locked, more scenes of Bang hunting increasingly desperately for Garou,  a running tally of heroes struck down by Garou adding pressure to his search… all sorts of things the manga has left wide open to be added to that would have created continuity and tension against the backdrop of a crisis that really, really needs the help of *every* hero.

Special note: Can I just say that Phoenixman is awesome in his garishness?  He looks like a children’s show mascot put together by people on the last day of a ten-day bender.  Guaranteed to give children nightmares. I love him.

Don’t believe the monster, kids

The Characters

Charanko:  I wasn’t expecting anything of him, so honourable mention to him. I absolutely love the small but important addition J.C. Staff made to his story, whereby he came across Garou, heard and saw all the heroes the latter was beating up, and, despite his fear and knowledge of his weakness, went forward anyway.  Fantastic! 

Death Gatling:  I’d been afraid that they’d undersell him.  He wasn’t and I was very, very happy to see that.  He’s ever inch as serious, tactically astute, and legitimately charismatic as he needs to be. They could have made Flashy Flash slightly more obnoxious to bring across the extent to which he felt slighted but that’s minor.   

Looking at how fans took him, I’ve been a bit disappointed in the number of fans who don’t get that he’s far from wrong both in seeking recognition (although he did pick the wrong target to make an example of), and for not believing Garou, but that’s not a critique of the way he’s been presented.   The thorny issue of recognition is something I’ve been mooting a meta on, but another day!

Garou:  What I’d hoped for 

I want to see the story of how Garou grows from a malcontent and apparent crazy to this juggernaut whose appointment with destiny cannot be stopped. 

What we got:   

I’d say this was fulfilled!  His luck and unstoppable destiny come across well.  I really like his relationship with Tareo and with Bang being expanded on. 

Fans definitely have taken Garou to heart with very few people neutral on him.  I appreciate the fans who correctly point out that he’s incoherent and hurting heroes who have done nothing to him on account of the childhood trauma he’s projecting onto them.   Like him or not, he’s definitely been given the space he needed and it’s going to be very interesting to see how people change their views of him as the anime continues. 

King:  What I’d hoped for

I want to see King be exposed as a fraud and a coward who runs from danger and leaves people to die, then redeem himself as a decent human being and become the fraud and coward who stands before danger so people might live.   That’s huge – he’s been running like a rabbit for years.

What we got:

Fulfilled.  I love how his relationship with Saitama unfolded, pretty much note perfect.  The scene of his wiling himself to courage is great; it and the flashback JC Staff added linked back to to where he started out quite nicely. 

Who doesn’t love King?  I suspect he arm-wrestled Mumen Rider for fan favourite, particularly as he’s so very ordinary a man in a world of demi-gods. 

Saitama:  What I’d hoped for

We see Saitama finally make a friend, get resolution as to why the world ignores him, and get to celebrate his progress, even as we learn how deep his sense of alienation goes. I love how it’s going to start with Saitama walking away from his disciple and end with Saitama running for his disciple and how nothing else mattered until he saw him safe and well.

What we got:

Mostly fulfilled.  His stasis and ongoing dissatisfaction with life come across excellently.  His feeling ever more irrelevant and removed from the flow of life is literally and metaphorically on show, even as we get to witness the life-changing impact of his punches on others. 

Folk missed Saitama sorely, which is as it should be.  JCStaff, bless their lily-livers, really did miss a trick in not having Elder Centipede continue disintegrating for several seconds – after having been parched for Saitama, that ludicrous scene really helped.

Genos (why always you, my friend?): What I’d hoped for

Last series, we saw Genos try and lose, try and lose, try and lose, try and lose yet again. This season, from the very first episode to the very last, we watch that process of change from a failing hero to a truly fearsome one fit to rub shoulders with the best of heroes.  I want to see how it thrills us, entertains us, breaks our hearts and maybe we dare to hope for even crazier heights in the future.

What we got:

Hm.  Let me paraphrase Dr Bofoi here: ‘It takes a special sort of stupidity to mess up this badly’.   This is worth unpacking a bit as when things go wrong, we often get a better opportunity to see what makes them work.  And I’m always interested in what makes communicating ideas effective. 

For once, let’s start with fan reactions.  The actions Genos takes on the screen are pretty much the same as in the manga (a little abridged in places, but more or less the same).   After manga chapter 84, you got reactions like this: ‘ Genos from now on to me will no longer be a joke. He’s earned my respect.’ ‘…if he still had a human body, he’d have broken his limiter by now…’, ‘he really stepped up’, etc.  After episode 12:  it’s ‘oh, everyone can beat Genos’  'he’s like a princess in distress’  'he’s lucky that Garou wasn’t at full health’… ‘…that man has felt useless since when he first met Saitama during the mosquito fight…’  

Manga readers are less scathing than anime only viewers, but they have the benefit of the manga and aren’t reacting to what’s actually presented on screen.  Where the anime has made the case for Genos being awesome, as it did in episode 11 (23), fan reactions followed appropriately.  

Interesting.  How the hell did JC Staff create the diametric opposite reaction of the one Murata and ONE had elicited?  Particularly when they made a decent fist of the other characters?

From the beginning, I’d worried most about Genos – the clumsy, lifeless sequences we saw of him in the PV inspired no confidence.  With Genos both opening and closing out the season, they really needed to get him right to set the correct tone and leave the right taste in the audiences’ mouths.  JCStaff have struggled most with his portrayal, both in visuals and action, although it came together nicely in episode 11 (23). Mostly, it’s Ishikawa’s sterling voice acting that has carried the character all season. 

And then they silenced Ishikawa.  A mix of stupid-lazy-desperate-for-time meant that for the last episode, they cut out all of Genos’s POV regarding how uneasy he still felt about the monstrous presence he couldn’t pin down, his shrewdly  wondering how to find their headquarters, his initial assessment of the Elder Centipede and even how very carefully he thought before deciding to take action.  They thought his amazing actions could speak for themselves.  They were wrong.

It’s like having Garou act without benefit of flashbacks and assuming his actions will speak for themselves.  They don’t!  Without the benefit of our knowledge of his motivations and thoughts, he really is just a thug launching unprovoked attacks on heroes.

Instead of us seeing and understanding that Genos had learned, was thinking carefully on all he’d been told and the drastic action he took was because he’d weighed up the options and realised only someone sacrificing his life would save the others,  we got the opposite. So what they created instead was a guy who wouldn’t listen to repeated good advice, took on a too-strong enemy and got his butt kicked. Again.  And if there’s anything fans rightly hate, it’s a fool who won’t learn.    As I pointed out earlier, Genos opened and closed the season – so the impression that nothing had changed really took a lot of any climactic feel out of the episode.   

The title of the final episode didn’t help either.  Instead of translating it as ‘taking responsibility for one’s disciple’ which would apply with equal force to both Bang trying to bring Garou to heel and to Saitama, rushing in to deal with a situation Genos couldn’t deal with, Crunchyroll went with the near-literal ‘cleaning up the disciple’s mess’ and Hulu with the literal ‘wiping the disciple’s butt’.  Both of which set the viewer to see whatever Genos did as a mistake. Even though, ironically, he didn’t make any this episode.  It’s a translation klutz like finding out that someone has translated the English idiom ‘catching Peter’s eye’ as ‘gouging out Peter’s eye’ instead of ‘being noticed by Peter’ (no Peters were harmed in the making of this sentence).  That is out of JCStaff’s hands, but I hope that whoever does the DVD/Blu Ray has a better set of translators available.

Ah, it’s not worthwhile grousing. It’s not like they had the time to watch the finished episode back and consider the story they were actually telling.   I don’t envy whoever takes up season 3.  They have a lot of extra work to do to change viewers’ impression of the character and the source material isn’t going to help them.  It's going to br difficult to explain why, when faced with a fool who won't listen to him and appears intent on self-destruction, Dr Kuseno would hand Genos an outfit that needs the most careful judgement to use with any degree of safety. For manga readers, it makes sense. For anime watchers some heavy duty retconning will be necessary.

While ONE cried tears of joy after reading Chapter 84, if he’s crying any tears after this season, they won’t be happy ones. 

[artificialqueens]

Powerless Part 8 (Branjie) - athena2

A/N: Thank you to everyone that’s still reading! I’ve finally fed the children some fluff after all this angst! This chapter has so much fluff it lowkey made me wish I could draw so I could draw some parts of it. Thank you so, so much to @youre-a-kite, for your support and amazing feedback with this. I would appreciate and love any comments or feedback you have!

Brooke has been asleep for three days.

The doctors at the base removed the bullets from her abdomen and thigh. They found and removed a GPS tracking chip in her left shoulder after Vanessa mentioned it. They controlled the bleeding, stitched her up, put her on antibiotics. She’s hooked up to monitors, her life reduced to lines and beeps and numbers, and her chest rises gently, but she still won’t wake up.

Vanessa shivers as she remembers holding Brooke in her arms as the blood gushed out of her and her breathing got faint and her eyes slid shut and didn’t open again.

No one knows what the latest shot from the lab might do to her. Vanessa’s ears shut down at Silk’s long-ass explanation of the drug and its possible effects, and all she got out of it is the worry currently buzzing inside her.

She’s taking a break from the crime-fighting and part of her is relieved. She honestly doesn’t care if the world goes to shit when the world did this to Brooke. Let the burden of protecting it make someone else’s shoulders tense. She spends every second next to her bed, chatting about everything and nothing for Brooke’s deaf ears, her own form of whistling in the dark, so Brooke doesn’t wake up alone. A’Keria stole Silk’s prized comfy chair for her to sit in, both of them acting appropriately puzzled and innocent when Silk chucked a soda bottle across her office in anger and led a witch hunt, complete with pitchfork, for the thief.

She’s dozing in the chair, which is truly worth anything Silk could do with that plastic pitchfork, forcing her eyes back open because every time they close she sees Brooke bleeding in her arms, only this time Vanessa didn’t get her to base fast enough. She ignores her heavy limbs and tells herself she’s fine, that she’s used to little (or no) sleep, and this way she’s guaranteed to be awake for Brooke.

“Vanessa?” A’Keria patters across the floor. “Silk wants to talk to you. It’s important.”

“But Brooke-”

“It’ll only be a few minutes.” A’Keria is apologetic, and Vanessa understands there’s not a question involved.

She huffs and puffs her way to Silk’s office like a middle-aged white lady whose coupon was expired.

“This better be good.” She crosses her arms and digs her heels into the ground.

“Vanjie, we can’t find anything on Brooke.” There’s a tone to Silk’s voice that Vanessa doesn’t like.

“What are you trying to say?”

“It’s just a little…suspicious.” Silk ticks points off on her fingers, and Vanessa knows she’s been sitting on this a while. “She wakes up in the lab with no memory. She said the lab ‘helped’ people like her, but where are they? She never mentioned anyone else, and there’s only a few costumed villains in this city. We can’t find anything about this lab, and don’t you think it’s weird they’re not looking for her? We found one recent report of a plane that crashed in an ice storm, but she’s not on the flight manifest. Facial recognition got nothing. Not to mention all we have to go on is a first name–”

“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t get her social security number when she was bleeding to death in front of me!”

“Vanessa,” Silk tries. “I’m just saying, how do we know she was on the plane? What if that’s another lie the lab fed her and told her to use when someone questioned her? How do we know everything she told us wasn’t just lies they made her believe?”

Vanessa’s stomach churns. She doesn’t like what Silk is implying, but she has to admit it could be possible.

“Are you saying we can’t trust her?”

“All I’m saying is I haven’t made it this long in the game by believing everything I hear.”

She thinks of Brooke sleeping in her arms, gulping hot chocolate like a little kid, smiling like she was afraid to. The way Brooke’s eyes fought through their shadows of pain and lit up like the sun when she remembered her name. That Brooke would never lie to her. But if she didn’t know she was lying…

Vanessa distracts herself with the plane diagram on Silk’s computer screen.

“How many people were on the plane?”

“Sixty, all with some ballet company.”

“How many does it hold?”

“Sixty-one.”

“But you don’t think that’s suspicious?” Vanessa demands. “One empty seat. What if it was Brooke’s? She said they took her from the crash. What if they deleted her records? The whole plane went down, and with the record gone, no one would know she was there! That empty seat was Brooke, it has to be.”

“The plane crashed last March,” A’Keria cuts in. “Frost appeared eight months ago, at the end of November. They could have kept her there, training her, making sure their drugs worked, before they set her out. It fits with the time frame,” she concludes and Vanessa could kiss her.

She can tell they’ve swayed Silk, or at least given her some doubts, which is sometimes the best you can hope for.

“Keep looking. Please, Silk, I…I love her.” It’s the first time she’s told anyone else, and any doubt she might have had is gone as the words leave her. She loves Brooke, and she doesn’t care who knows it.

Vanessa speeds back to Brooke’s room, trying not to be disappointed when she’s still asleep. She’d had some overly hopeful fantasy that Brooke would be wide awake and ready for another kiss when she got back.

She drops a careful kiss on Brooke’s forehead. “Please wake up, Brooke,” she whispers. She nestles into the chair, praying she won’t fall asleep, but she does. —

Vanessa shoots awake in the semi-darkness, wall clock reading 6:17. She’s unsure if it’s morning or night until a shaft of morning sun breaks through the window and punches her in the face. She gets up to close the curtains when Brooke’s finger twitches.

Brooke’s eyelids are fluttering, breath quickening, and Vanessa’s heart leaps when those green eyes meet hers for the first time in four days.

“Where…” Brooke rasps. Her eyes flit around in fear, and Vanessa understands at once. Waking up in a strange bed with no memory of how she got there…

She repositions herself so Brooke can see her. “You’re not at the lab, I promise. I’m right here. You’re safe.”

Brooke looks wearily at her, fingers fumbling at the IV. “No, you wanna leave that in, okay?” Vanessa takes her hand before she does any damage to herself. “That’s helping you, I don’t know doctor shit, but it’s okay.”

“V-Vanessa?” she asks, voice sounding like she’s had a cocktail of gravel and broken glass, breathing still ragged.

“It’s me. I’m here. You’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you.” She gives Brooke’s hand a light squeeze and grabs a water bottle from the nightstand. “You want some?”

Brooke nods and Vanessa holds it to her mouth while she sips slowly, breaths calming.

“Do you remember what happened?” She knows she has to call a doctor, but it’s been four lonely days and Vanessa just needs to hear Brooke’s voice, needs to see that she’s okay.

“I…my name. My name is Brooke.”

“That’s right,” Vanessa lays encouragement over her desperation. “Anything else?”

Her eyebrows knit together in concentration, but she seems dazed, and there’s a glassy, far-off look in her eyes making Vanessa’s chest tight with worry. She’s about to press the call button when Brooke’s shoulders heave.

“I remember he hurt me and I…I…”

“Oh, Brooke,” she soothes. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Vanessa blinks back tears, her heart sinking. She doesn’t know how she was naive enough to think Brooke would wake up with a perfect memory and her trauma wiped clean. Brooke will need help to get through what the lab did to her, she knows that.

“Vanessa, I don’t feel good,” Brooke says quietly, lowering her head.

“I’m gonna get someone to check on you, alright? I should’ve called sooner, I’m sorry. Does anything hurt?”

She shakes her head. “It’s too hot.”

Vanessa has Silk and a doctor in the room in seconds. Brooke flinches away and curls in on herself when she sees the doctor, breath catching in her throat and soft whimpers falling from her lips as she trembles.

“It’s okay, she won’t hurt you. I’ll be right here with you the whole time. I got you, I promise.” Vanessa squeezes her hand tighter and Brooke grips back like Vanessa is her lifeline.

“I trust you,” Brooke replies, an echo of days and several lifetimes ago, and Vanessa’s heart lightens.

“Heart rate’s a little elevated,” Dr. O’Hara explains the monitors for Vanessa’s benefit as she pulls a thermometer from under Brooke’s tongue.

“99.7,” she announces, shooting a glance at Silk that Vanessa can’t read.

“That’s not too high, right?” Vanessa asks hopefully.

Then Silk informs her that Brooke’s normal temperature is 95.6, and Vanessa allows herself to panic. —

“There’s no infection. Doctor thinks it’s a residual effect of the drug. It’s like it needs to burn through her system before it’s gone. Her bloodwork is different from the first sample we took, so this must be a new formula. Probably why she’s reacting to it like this,” Silk explains as Vanessa applies an ice pack to Brooke’s forehead.

She nodded off just after Silk left this morning and has been asleep since, drenched in sweat and mumbling unintelligibly as the number on the new monitor rises steadily, currently hovering around 102.

“I think it should pass in a few days,” A’Keria muses. “When she talked to us, she said the drugs made her feel weird at first, which is why she was so out of it when she fought you. Then she would sleep, which she’s been doing. This is the rest of it. Since she went every week, I’m figuring this’ll wear off by Sunday.”

“She’ll get through it. She can take higher temperatures because of her powers like you can, Vanj,” Silk pats her shoulder in a rare display of comfort.

It’s nice to think this could all be over soon, but that still means days of sitting here uselessly, watching Brooke thrash around and sweat and futilely putting ice packs on her.

Shooting fire out of her hands has never seemed so stupid.

She is powerless. —

A’Keria was right. The fever starts to break Saturday afternoon, hours after it hit 105 and A’Keria had to drag Vanessa away from Brooke’s bed while the doctors put ice on her.

By that night she’s back at safe levels, and it’s another waiting game. Vanessa wears out the tile floor wondering how much Brooke remembers and is still up when Brooke coughs awake, instantly holding water to her lips and gripping her shoulder comfortingly.

“Vanessa, I remember something else,” Brooke says once she’s able to talk.

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

Vanessa leans down as Brooke stretches up and their lips meet after what feels like years. Brooke’s lips are cool and yet Vanessa melts at their touch. She shivers with delight as Brooke’s hand roams down her spine. Brooke is here, she’s alive, and whatever happens, they’re together. She perches on the edge of the mattress and lays her hand on Brooke’s chest, feels her heart race with excitement beneath her touch.

They’re interrupted a few minutes later when Brooke’s heart monitor goes off. —

Brooke is released Tuesday night, and Vanessa takes her to the safe house Silk set up for them. A’Keria even went to their apartments and stocked the cozy space with their own stuff, and Vanessa collapses onto her familiar brown couch with a sigh.

Brooke stands in the doorway, picking at her nails.

“Hey, you wanna sit down? Or we could go to bed if you’re tired,” she offers. Brooke is like a skittish animal, eyes darting around nervously, and Vanessa keeps her voice low and even.

“Um, bed is okay. Can I get changed?”

“Of course you can. A’Keria brought your clothes, they’re in the second room down the hall.”

Vanessa changes into her own pajamas and raids the kitchen, drooling at A’Keria’s chip selection.

Brooke comes back in gray pajama shorts and a white T-shirt, and again Vanessa marvels at how much smaller and more vulnerable she looks when she’s not in her suit.

“Anything you want to eat?” Vanessa asks as she rips open a bag of chips.

Brooke shakes her head.

“How about toast? You really should eat something,” Vanessa insists lightly. Brooke has lost weight, not just over the past week but in the months since they first met, and Vanessa can feel Brooke’s ribs whenever she rubs her back.

“C-Can I have hot chocolate too?”

“You can have all the hot chocolate you want.”

Brooke eats her toast while Vanessa crunches on chips. They’re in her bed that A’Keria had moved in (she conveniently only had time to bring one bed, not that either of them has complained) and it’s so much like that night Vanessa is half-expecting the lab to burst in and take Brooke away from her again. She forces the thought away. They’re safe now. The silence is comfortable, and peaceful, and Vanessa lets out a breath she’s been holding for well over a week, feels the tension slowly dissolve from her limbs. On Friday they’re meeting with Silk to indulge her love of “debriefing”, but they had the next two days to themselves, and Vanessa could be content with this for two days, maybe even for her whole life.

“You doing okay, Brooke? Anything you need?”

“No, I’m good. Um, Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, but are we…what are we? Like, you know…”

Vanessa’s been asking herself that same question, and she honestly doesn’t know the answer. She’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she is in bed with a woman she would’ve happily punched in the face a month ago.

“I know what you mean. We can be whatever we want to be. If you want to go slow, get to know each other better, we can do that. If you want to go fast, we can do that too. I love you, Brooke, and I’m comfortable doing this either way.”

“I love you too,” Brooke breathes. “I think…I think I want to go slow.”

“Then we’ll go slow. Take it a day at a time. We don’t need all the answers right now. We’ll do what feels right, okay?”

Brooke nods, stifling a yawn.

“Get some sleep, Brooke. We can talk more tomorrow.”

Brooke nods again, burying her head in the pillow. She’s asleep in minutes, and Vanessa puts her chip bowl on the bedside table (you never knew when a midnight craving would hit) and quickly follows suit. It’s been a long day.

She feels like she’s barely closed her eyes when a shout lurches her awake. Brooke is thrashing around beside her, asking someone to please stop hurting her, and Vanessa places a cautious hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay. You’re not there. It’s just a dream.” she repeats softly until Brooke bolts up in the bed, panting, shirt damp with sweat, cheeks wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“No, Brooke, don’t apologize. It’s okay.” She holds Brooke to her chest, puts the blonde’s head on her shoulder until her breathing becomes steady again. She falls back to sleep with her arms wrapped securely around Brooke, ready to fight her nightmares away. —

They live the next two days like royalty, laying in bed and eating chips, taking breaks for soft, salty-lipped kisses. It’s not until she’s in bed with Brooke, their legs tangled together, Brooke laughing at something she said, that Vanessa realizes she wasn’t entirely happy before. She wasn’t miserable, exactly, but she knows she hasn’t cared for another person, or for herself, really, since before the fire.

Now that the drug is out of her system, Brooke’s head is a little clearer, and between her glimpses of memory and Vanessa filling in the blanks, she is able to reconstruct the night before the lab’s ambush.

Vanessa remembers every second of that night, the image of Brooke beside her and the softness of Brooke’s hair as she ran her fingers through it permanently engraved in her brain. She knows Brooke is still a little fuzzy on some of the details, but she also knows that Brooke still loves her, and she lets it be enough for now.

The debriefing goes on far too long, in Vanessa’s opinion, and Silk has a mile-long list with Brooke’s answers to her questions, which probably aren’t as helpful as she hoped.

Brooke was allowed on one floor of the building. She only interacted with the doctor and the General. She doesn’t know anyone’s real names. She never saw other people there. She knows there was snow on the ground when her plane crashed and that the leaves had changed colors when she started doing her missions.

The legal issues are taken care of. Under the Superhero Protection Act, Brooke was within her rights to defend herself against the General and the doctor, even though Brooke, who has her knees up to her chest the whole time, goes rigid in her chair and keeps muttering I’m bad as they explain this. She didn’t sleep at all last night, and Vanessa hopes seeing Dr. West on Monday can help her.

Dr. West–Nina–used to be a superhero herself, West Wind, back in the day, but retired to practice psychiatry and spend time with her wife. She’s dealt with cases similar to Brooke’s and A’Keria had recommended her, knowing she’d be gentle enough for Brooke.

Vanessa runs her thumb over Brooke’s hand. Things are going to get better for them. She knows it. —

Vanessa wakes up to an empty bed and the scent of vanilla wafting through the apartment, which means Brooke had a nightmare. She’s taken up baking when she can’t get back to sleep after. She says it helps calm her, and gives her instructions to follow, which she likes. She’s gotten better the past few weeks, and Vanessa smiles as she remembers the disastrous first attempt when the smoke alarm woke her at 3am and she had to defrost their stove after Brooke panicked and shot ice at it so it didn’t catch on fire.

There’s vanilla cupcakes on cooling racks, and even though Brooke has deep purple bags under her eyes and her cuticles are chewed up, Vanessa waits to mention it.

“Cupcakes, huh? She fancy. You stepping up in the baking world, boo.”

Brooke’s smile doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Did you have another nightmare?”

Brooke’s face falls. “Yeah. I’ve been out here since 4,” she admits.

Guilt washes over her as she realizes that she slept through it, that Brooke had to deal with it alone, but that could mean the nightmare wasn’t intense enough to wake her, which is hopeful.

“You know you can wake me when it happens. You don’t have to suffer alone,” she puts on her concerned voice, making sure to never yell at Brooke or make her feel bad for this.

“I bother you almost every night. I wanted to let you sleep.”

Vanessa goes quiet. She knows Brooke has been working on this with Nina. Trying to understand that she’s not a burden and she’s not a bad person for asking for help. She also knows that, even though Brooke is doing a lot better with the therapy, the lab’s cuts run far too deep to be healed so quickly.

“Well, let’s try one of these cupcakes,” she puts on a smile and stuffs one into her mouth. —

“Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

“So, Nina said it might be good for me, but I wanted to ask you, um…”

“What is it, baby?”

“Do you think maybe we could get a kitty?”

“Of course we can. I’ve always wanted a cat, actually. We can go to the shelter tomorrow if you want.” —

A colorful ball of fluff masquerading as a cat paws at the front of his cage when Brooke walks by. The shelter worker lets him out, and he immediately latches onto Brooke’s leg. She sits on the floor and reaches out a hand, then hesitates, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she looks at Vanessa questioningly.

“Oh, you can pet him,” the worker thankfully supplies before Vanessa has to explain that Brooke is still used to asking permission for everything she does.

She strokes his fur tentatively, smiling as the cat begins to purr.

“I think he likes you,” the worker says. “His name’s Henry. He was brought in with another cat, and they’re kinda friends now. This here is Apollo,” he explains, opening another cage for a gray cat to strut out. This one also nuzzles against Brooke, who pets a cat with each hand and grins in a way Vanessa has never seen.

“They like me,” she whispers incredulously.

Vanessa smiles at the worker. “We’ll take them both.” —

The next month passes by both slowly and quickly. The days seem long and indistinguishable when living them, but when Vanessa looks back at the end of the month, she sees how much things have changed, how different every day has been leading up to now.

Brooke is understandably wary of taking medication, and Nina says they can ease into the idea later if needed, but even just being away from the lab, going to therapy, and taking care of herself is working wonders. She makes it through the night once, then twice. She eats more. She talks beyond just answering questions. The skin around her nails begins to heal.

She still has her bad days. Still has nightmares, still says I’m sorry more than one person should, still calls herself bad for things she’s done. But when they finally have a Sunday where Brooke doesn’t jump out of bed and scramble to go to her appointment, Vanessa cries tears of joy in the bathroom.

And Brooke is making her better too. She goes to her own session with Nina. She starts to think about her mom more, and even talks about her. She digs the memories up from where she’s buried them and lets them see the sun. Nina mentions that helping at the animal shelter might aid Brooke’s progress, and Vanessa goes with her because she’s not quite ready to do something like that alone yet. She institutes Sunday brunch, which her mom did when she was a kid, and she creates her own sort of family, Silk the grumpy uncle who yelled on holidays and A’Keria the cool aunt that always got you the good presents.

They take things slow, like Brooke asked for. They talk for hours at night, Brooke listening intently to stories about Vanessa’s family, helping alleviate some of the ache. They cook dinner together, and Brooke massages her shoulders, and she eases Brooke into sleep with gentle neck kisses and holds her through the nightmares. Vanessa’s never taken a relationship this slow. Usually she ran through them like a blaze, the heat and passion consuming her while the flames grew, and if she happened to make a few girlfriends (or buildings) crumble from her heat, so be it.

But Brooke is a cold winter snow, a slow and quiet chill fiercely penetrating through your heavy coat and bulky layers of clothing straight to your heart, taking your breath away if you weren’t used to it.

Vanessa hasn’t felt this kind of joy, this pure bliss, in years, and she knows Brooke feels the same way. Which only makes it that much worse when Silk corners her with an idea one day.

“Vanjie, I have a plan but we’re gonna need Brooke. Frost, really,” Silk begins.

“I have a bad feeling about this, but what is it?”

“Well, I think we need to destroy the lab. If you and Brooke went in together, we could get records, information, we can get those doctors in custody and make sure there’s no building to return to. So they don’t do to someone else what they did to Brooke.”

Vanessa runs a hand through her hair, mind already weighing the dangers of this. “What makes you think she would want to go back there? Do you really think she should go back?”

“That’s up to her. We could really use her knowledge on this. Doctor says she’s okay physically, but I don’t want her health at risk, and if her or Nina don’t think she’s ready, we can wait. Just ask her.”

And Vanessa says she will, but the days go by and she still hasn’t. Brooke has been doing so well. The nightmares have been less violent, and she’s happy. They’re both happy. Will bringing this up ruin it all? Steal her happiness, make her get bad again? How can she even ask Brooke to go back there?

Over two weeks later, when Silk brings it up again, Vanessa knows she has to ask. But that night Brooke has a nightmare so bad she shoves Vanessa off her and it takes her torturous seconds to realize she’s not the doctor, she’s not trying to hurt her. Brooke’s tears soak into her shirt, Vanessa’s heart rips in two, and she knows the question won’t make it past her lips. —

She is able to keep the question secret, planting it down deep and ignoring it in favor of Brooke’s safety and contentment, but all it takes is one moment, at a godforsaken debriefing, for it to break through the dirt, demanding an answer.

“So, Brooke, what do you think of the plan?”

“Silk,” Vanessa hisses, but it’s too late.

“What plan?”

Vanessa sighs as Silk ducks out of the line of fire. “Brooke, Silk wants to infiltrate the lab and destroy it. I was supposed to tell you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Brooke sounds hurt and Vanessa never wants to hurt her.

“Brooke-”

“C-Can we talk about it later?” she asks, and Vanessa nods.

“Okay. Um, Silk, I want to hear about this plan. Please.”

Silk never passes up an opportunity to lecture, and Vanessa gets herself comfy before she starts. Silk should really pass out snacks if she wants people to pay attention for this long.

Brooke’s face is blank and unreadable as Silk drones. She nods once it’s done, eyes downcast and bottom lip between her teeth. She lifts her head up when she’s ready, and Vanessa isn’t sure what she wants Brooke to say, but she’ll support her either way.

“I want to do this. Let’s bring down the lab.”

[sceptilemasterr]

MW Act 1, Scene 13 - Two-Faced

Title: Most Wanted: The Hollywood Killer (A CIU Screenplay)

Main Pairings: Dave x Sam

Other Pairings: N/A

Genre: Full Rewrite

Rating: PG-13 for violence, blood, swearing, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: Sam, Dave, Rhea, and Reza visit Cheerm, only to find the owner isn’t home... or ARE they?

Previous Scene: Hitting the Beach

Masterlist: Link

INT. CHEERM APARTMENT COMPLEX - DAY

The four of them are standing in the lobby of a small, run-down apartment complex, in front of a call box. Dave scans the apartment listings as Sam taps her foot impatiently.

SAM: This is Cheerm? I thought it was a company.

REZA: For an internet startup, you never have to leave your home, y’know.  (dramatically) The real American Dream!

He pauses expectantly, but neither Sam nor Dave react. After a moment, Rhea lets out a small chuckle.

REZA: Thank you! At least someone around here appreciates me.

Dave finds the Cheerm listing, and buzzes up. A female voice answers.

JESSICA (V.O.): Cheerm HQ!

DAVE: My name’s Dave, I’m with the city. Do you mind if we could chat for a minute?

Sam frowns at him, clearly skeptical. Rhea and Reza exchange a glance. After a pause, the voice returns.

JESSICA (V.O.): Totes! No prob, just punch 2139 into the call box and come on up!

Sam raises an eyebrow. Dave shrugs.

SAM (sarcastically): Look at you, Prince Charming.

DAVE: What can I say? It works.

The elevator opens, and the four of them file in. As it ascends, Rhea attempts to make conversation.

RHEA (to Reza): So, you... uh... have you been out this way before?

REZA: Huh? Uh? Um, yeah, this place is... uh... it’s really... I’ve been here... one time, it’s nice, right?

Dave facepalms at Reza’s awkwardness. Before Rhea has the chance to respond, the doors slide open on the top floor, right across from a door marked ‘CHEERM’ in huge, bright lettering. Dave shrugs.

DAVE: They aren’t exactly subtle...

He knocks on the door. After a second, the door opens narrowly, and a young woman in workout clothes peers through the opening. This is JESSICA GREENE, though at this time we do not know her name. She smiles innocently at the group.

JESSICA: Hi there! Can I help you guys?

RHEA: We... um, or, uh, we’re... 

Dave steps in when he notices Rhea blushing and tripping over her words.

DAVE: I’m Detective Dave Reyes. This is my partner, Marshal Sam Massey, and my colleagues, Reza Fassihi and Rhea Sarkar. What’s your name?

In the background, Rhea does an excited shudder when Dave introduces her as a ‘colleague.’ Jessica smiles apologetically and shrugs.

JESSICA: I’m, uh... Monika. Duh. Sorry, I know I’m a total ditz, right? Did you need something?

Sam frowns.

SAM: Who would we talk to about this ‘Cheerm’ company?

JESSICA: Huh? Oh... yeah, that would be my brother, Chad. He and his friend Todd started this dumb company last year. I can totes give him a message if you wanna tell me what this is all about?

DAVE: The thing is, Monika...

He goes into ‘flirt mode,’ leaning against the door, lowering his voice, and gazing into ‘Monika’s’ eyes.

DAVE: Y’know... I could really use your help on this one. I’d owe you, big time.

JESSICA: Oh yeah? What would you owe me, Mr. Detective?

DAVE: I guess we’d have to find out.

Sam rolls her eyes at Dave’s ridiculous ‘flirt mode.’

SAM: You’re kidding me. This’ll never work...

JESSICA (giggles): Well, if you need to talk to Chad and Todd, they’re down on the beach right now for a brainstorming sesh!

Sam’s jaw drops. Dave smirks at her before continuing.

DAVE: Thanks, Monika. You’re a lifesaver!

RHEA: You’ve been everything!

JESSICA (confused): ...What?

RHEA: Oh my God that was so stupid! I meant to say ‘You’ve been a big help’ or ‘Thanks for everything’ but then I somehow mixed them up and said ‘You’ve been everything’ I’m such an idiot I’m so sorry!

JESSICA: Uh... okay. Thank you.

She forces a smile and closes the door. Rhea sighs and puts her head in her hands.

RHEA: I am so stupid!

REZA: Yeah. I know.

Rhea gives him a look. Reza blanches.

REZA: Wait, no, I didn’t mean- not like that! I just meant, I’m awkwardly stupid too, so I get it! Er, wait! No, I wasn’t calling you stupid! And... yeah, okay, I’ll stop now.

DAVE: I think you just proved your point.

REZA: Guess I’m forever doomed to stammer like an idiot around cute girls.

SAM (sighs): Can we just go find these brainstorming executives? Please?

DAVE: You go on ahead. I’ve got a hunch I want to follow up on.

SAM: Sure you do.

She and Reza head back toward the elevator. Rhea stays, glancing between Sam and Dave for a moment.

SAM: Paparazzi? You comin’?

RHEA: Not right now. I’ve... also got a hunch.

SAM (shrugs): Suit yourself.

The elevator dings, and Sam and Reza enter and descend. After a moment, Dave knocks on the door again. They wait several seconds, with no response.

RHEA: Maybe she... fell asleep?

DAVE: Not likely.

Dave knocks again, and waits for another long moment. Still, nothing happens.

RHEA: Are you, y’know, suspecting something?

DAVE: Possibly...

He draws his gun. Rhea gasps.

RHEA: Are you gonna need that?!

DAVE: Sure hope not.

Dave leans back, then slams his heel through the door. The lock splinters, and he sprints inside, followed a moment later by Rhea. Inside, the room is filled with several computers, routers, and other devices. Jessica stands up against one of the computer towers, holding a handheld device up to it.

DAVE: You! Stop!

Jessica hesitates at Dave’s voice for only a second, then returns to what she was doing. As Dave and Rhea watch, the computer monitor she is standing with winks out, dead. Rhea gasps in recognition.

RHEA: Oh my God, I know what that is! It’s one of those high-powered magnet things they use to erase computers!

DAVE: She’s erasing the evidence! (to Jessica) Stop, don’t do this!

JESSICA (tearfully): I have to! I have to run, or I’m dead!

RHEA: Wait! Please! I know how you feel!

JESSICA: Shut up! I don’t need a lecture from a cop!

As Jessica crosses to the next computer and starts holding the device up to it, Rhea approaches her, showing her empty hands.

DAVE: Rhea! No! You’re just-

RHEA: Look. Monika. I’m not a cop; I’m just a journalist. Barely out of college. A nobody, pretty much.

To Dave’s shock, Jessica actually hesitates, curious about what Rhea is going to say.

RHEA: I’m not-

Rhea pauses, taking a deep breath and quickly composing herself before continuing, more confidently this time.

RHEA: I’m not saying I know who you are. All I can say is that I know the kind of person you are; and that’s someone who knows what she can do. Nothing more; nothing less. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re overlooked, overshadowed.

JESSICA (hesitantly): I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.

RHEA: Let me take a guess. People take you for granted, don’t they? You can spend every day of your life doing everything for them behind the scenes, all the little inconvenient details that help their jobs to keep existing, and the simple “thank you” that you deserve... never comes. So you feel like you have to do something extreme. Because, you’re afraid that if you don’t, you’ll actually... truly... be alone, forever.

There is a long, drawn-out pause. Rhea and Jessica keep their gazes on each other, neither one willing to be the first to look away. Behind Rhea, Dave slowly lowers his pistol. After a moment or two, a single tear drips down the side of Jessica’s face, and she averts her gaze.

JESSICA: I... you... (sighs) It’s too late for me. I can’t change now.

Rhea shakes her head.

RHEA: No. It’s not too late. We can help you. It’s never too late.

Slowly, Jessica starts lowering the magnet, slumping to the floor. Rhea crosses over to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. A few seconds later, Dave starts approaching the two of them. Jessica looks up at him, her eyes wet with tears.

JESSICA: I... please...

DAVE (gently): Look, you’re doing the right thing. You’ve made the right choice. But the things you did... you’re still going to have to pay the price. I’m sorry, but right now, I’m gonna need you to come-

To Dave and Rhea’s surprise, Jessica holds out her wrists toward Dave. Her expression has changed, a distinct look of fear now joining the sadness on her face.

JESSICA: I know. Please, Officer, let’s go. Now. Please!

Dave takes a step back, confused and suspicious at the strange request. Rhea looks at Jessica curiously.

RHEA: What is this? Some kind of trick?

Jessica starts shaking her head in frantic desperation.

JESSICA: No trick! I promise! Please, just take me back to the station. Lock me up for life if you have to, just get me away from here!

DAVE: Monika, explain. Now.

JESSICA: You don’t understand, there’s no time! You need to get me away from here, he’s-

With an ominous thud, the power to the building suddenly cuts out, plunging the room into darkness. Dave reflexively draws his pistol, aiming it at Jessica.

DAVE: What is this? What did you do?!

JESSICA (panicked): No! No, no, no... He’s here, you’re too late, he’s gonna kill me!

RHEA: Who?! Monika, what’s going on?

JESSICA: Gavin’s killer. John Tull.

Dave, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness, startles at her words, swiveling his stance around so he and his gun are now facing the entrance. Rhea tenses, backing herself and Jessica up against the wall.

JESSICA: He’s here to kill me.

_______________________

Next: Darkness

CIU Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @bbaba-yagaa @acidsugar0

MW Tag List: @griselda1121

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Descendants Yandere Headcanons

There’s so much great Dark!Descendants content, but I haven’t seen any Yandere!Descendants content (Harry doesn’t really count because he’s just Like That, although I do love my slutty pirate) and that’s just a goddamn crime, so here’s some lovesick Villain Kids. (Might do the AKs later???)

(I’m using the archetypes I describe in my last post, so check there if you want a deeper explanation. )

Mal - Lucid Selfish. On the one hand, she knows this is fucked up. But’s so dangerous outside. There are so many things that could hurt you, so many people who could try to take you away. It’s better for you to stay here, with her, where she can keep an eye on you. She likes to make you pose for her art, and she has hundreds of sketches and paintings of you. Her favorite time to draw you is when you’re sleeping. She calls you her “treasure” and jokes that every proper dragon needs a hoard. Pretty temperamental, she won’t take well to crying or fighting back, usually screaming or flashing her eyes at you, occasionally slapping you if you really pushed her buttons. Once she found somewhere to put you you’d have mostly free reign until you tried to escape. Then you’d be chained to the wall, or the bed, with magically-reinforced mankles. She almost lost you once, she won’t make that mistake a second time. The more you act out the more distant she gets, though. You’re so difficult, she says. You’re so ungrateful. Eventually she leaves and doesn’t come back for weeks. You’re alone and chained up in a dark room and you think she left you there to die. When she does come back it’s just to give you food and then leave again. For months this happens, until you’re begging her to stay, promising you’ll never leave her again, apologizing for not appreciating her. You’d do anything just to sit and pose for her again, have some kind of contact or company. You think you’ll go crazy if you have to be alone anymore. You’re lucky though. Mal has a temper, but she’s willing to forgive you if you promise to behave, and she really is so sweet when you aren’t making her angry. You’re so lucky you have her. You’re so lucky she came back.

Jay - Semi-Delusional Selfish. He flirts with you as often as he flirts with everybody else, so you don’t really think anything of his attention. You probably even have a slight crush on him. He’s so handsome, he’s so charming. But he doesn’t seem like he wants a relationship, so you never try anything. What you don’t know is that he follows you home every night, to make sure you get there safe, and because he loves to watch you sleep. He breaks into your bedroom and goes through your stuff, but he doesn’t steal anything -- not from you, habibi, his love. Nothing you’d miss, anyway. Just your chapstick, or your old toothbrush you threw away, or the occasional pair of underwear. In exchange he leaves you gifts, but he doesn’t give them to you face to face, because where’s the fun in that? Instead you find expensive jewelry and games and stuff just lying in your room. You probably freak out and skip town, but he keeps tabs on you. In fact, it’s fun for him that you tried to run away, like playing cat and mouse. He’s content to just keep chasing you… until, that is, you get a boyfriend. Suddenly Jay is seeing red. He’s so jealous he can’t stand it. This isn’t part of the game. Maybe he shouldn’t have dragged it out for so long, but he couldn’t help it. You were getting so paranoid, it was so cute. Not that he’d ever hurt you, but you’re adorable when you’re afraid. Only now you’re with that douchebag. Well, whatever, Jay can take care of him, and any other prick who tries to take you away from him. In fact, maybe he should just get rid of everybody -- your friends, your family, anybody who might get in the way. Then you’ll be his and his alone, and you two can keep playing the game. Forever.

Evie - Delusional Selfish. She’ll change her hair, her clothes, the way she talks and acts and the music she listens to, anything she has to to be your perfect girl. Your actual, current girlfriend is just trash, in the way of you noticing the girl who really loves you. But that’s fine, Evie will just get rid of her. Then you’ll see that she’s the perfect one for you. She’s the ideal wife, and she’ll easily become your dream girl. You’re grieving the loss of your girlfriend when she uses your vulnerability to get close to you, offering comfort. At first everything seems fine, but eventually her mask starts to crack, and you realize how much she’s lying about. You call her out on it, and she doesn’t react well. She’s never screamed at you like that before. Over time her careful house of cards starts to crumble, and you see more and more of what’s really going on. The more you try to wiggle away from her the more she tightens her grip, though. Yes, okay, fine, she killed the tramp, but can’t you see it was a good thing? You two are perfect together, Evie can be anyone you want her to be, aren’t you happy with her? … Fine. After everything she did, if you’re going to be so ungrateful, then obviously she was wrong about you two belonging together. But if she can’t have you, no one else can.

Carlos - Lucid Selfless. He avoids violence whenever it's possible, instead resorting to blackmail and manipulation. Honestly, you don't even notice he’s there, and that’s fine. Nobody ever does unless he wants them to. He’s content to stay behind the scenes, pulling strings, getting you that job promotion or better grades or whatever else you might want. You might start to get a little suspicious about your good luck, but who’s gonna look a gift horse in the mouth, right? Until, by chance, you catch a glimpse of him and realize how familiar he is, how he always seems to be everywhere all the time. A little digging turns up countless selfies with him in the background, or people remembering seeing him talk to your boss shortly before that pay raise. Furious, you confront him - after all, what's the worst he could do to you? - and Carlos doesn't deny it. In fact, he admits to all that and more, all the things he's been doing for you. You're angry at him, aren't you? He knew he shouldn't have done it, he was being bad, but he couldn't help himself. It's okay, you can be angry. You can punish him. If growing up with Cruella taught him anything it’s that he can take a hit. Go ahead, he’ll take whatever punishment you dish out, so that he can be a good boy for you again.

Uma - Semi-Lucid Selfish. Uma is your queen and commander, and you should love her. She’s the best and baddest, the strongest, the smartest, the most capable. She’ll be able to give you anything and everything you want. All she asks in return is that you love her more than anyone else. The relationship starts off like a fairy tale, but as time goes on her jealousy and possessiveness only increase. She gets angry when she sees you talking to other people, even angrier when you try to defend your right to do so. She’s convinced you'll try to leave her, and how dare you? After everything she’s done? The more you try to squirm away, the more she tightens her grip, and the more possessive she becomes, the more you desperately need a little space. It's a vicious cycle. Finally you break things off with her. She isn't who she was in the beginning. Where is that Uma? Why can't you have the old Uma back? The old Uma? Are you kidding? She’s right here! She’s been right here! She’d still be right here if you weren't being so fucking impossible! You're stubborn and fighty and you have no respect for her authority, and if you think she’ll let you leave her, then you’re fucking delusional. You belong to her. The whole world belongs to her! Someday the seven seas will do her bidding, and what will you be then? If you're not hers you're nothing. But you're lucky, your captain has a forgiving nature. She’ll give you another chance, and this time she’ll make sure you can't fuck it up. Kick and scream and cry all you want. You are never going to leave her.

Harry - Selective Selfless. (He’s already kind of a yandere for Uma but here we go.) Harry would do anything for you. Everything for you. All you have to do is ask. He’d slaughter a whole city, paint his name in their blood all over the walls so everybody knows not to mess with you. You’re his king/queen, he’d follow you anywhere. Nobody else will ever, ever, ever love you like he loves you. You don't even have to love him back, he just wants to follow you, serve you, adore you. He wants your recognition and praise, but he’d settle for just your acknowledgment. Just let him be close to you, that’s all he asks. And, well, he just wants what's best for you. He wants the whole world to fear and adore you as much as he does. Everyone should kneel at your feet. And if other people are in the way of you taking your throne, he’ll eliminate them. And if you don't want him to keep killing people, you'd better step up and prove you can control him, because otherwise he’ll just keep pushing and pushing. If it's the only way to get your attention, he’ll do it. And if the day comes when you try to make him stop, make him leave you, make him turn his back on everything he’s worked so hard for, the world he’s tried to build for you… Well. He can see he’s been a bit too lenient with you. You’re tough, but you aren't ready to be the person he knows you can be, yet. You just need a little push, that’s all. Just a little push, and you can rule the world. Don't worry, it's alright. He’ll be there with you the whole time. It’ll stop hurting soon.

Gil - Delusional Selfless. He’s fully convinced that you’re in love with him. You might not be officially dating or whatever, but who needs it? It’s in the way you smile at him in the halls, and the way you glance at him in class, and the way you said his name, that one time. You’re in love with him, and you’re going to be together forever. Gil is going to marry you, and you’ll have a family, and you’ll live happily ever after! He gets that you're like, shy or whatever. That's okay, he won't push. You can take as much time as you need. Or, maybe you’re like Belle? You might need some convincing and stuff. There's a lot of jerks on the Isle, maybe you want him to prove that he’ll be good to you, that he can protect you and treat you right. He can do that! He starts to show off more, getting into more fights, so that you can see how strong and chivalrous and stuff he is. But you're pulling away and spending less time with him and he heard you say the other day that he’s kinda scaring you lately. He can't think of why you might be scared of him, he’s been so gentle and sweet with you, and he’s been fighting any other guy who might try to get close to you and mess with you and stuff. He’s doing everything a good husband should! Until he starts to think about Belle again, and how his dad says that she would have been his mom if the Beast hadn't stolen her. Of course, somebody must be trying to steal you! You're so great and pretty and smart and funny and perfect, of course somebody would wanna turn you against him! But Gil won't make the same mistake his dad did. He won't let his future wife be lied to and led away from him. He’ll keep you close. He’ll keep you safe.

[justanotherwannabeclassic]

Awhile ago, I made a post on Tumblr discussing that we never saw see Steve find or emote about Sharon's miscarriage, and how I was basically writing a fanfic in my head to deal. A few people messaged me asking for me to post that fic, so here we are. (Also lol @ me for writing fic for a story that’s 12/13 years old.)

Push Away the Unimaginable

Steve finds out about the baby. (Captain America V. 5)

He finds out from Sam — a pure accident on Sam’s part, born from the assumption that Sharon had told him when the two had discussed everything that had occurred since she had pulled the trigger and he had gone down, down, down.

(He doesn’t use the word ‘death’, doesn’t like the shadow of guilt in her eyes, doesn’t ever desire for her to shoulder blame.

Besides, death implies peace, and his time gone was anything but.)

“Honestly, it’s just good to see her to really smile again, you know? Between what happened with you and losing the baby, I never thought…”

What Sam says next, Steve cannot tell. It’s as if the entire world blurs around that moment as he processes the words “losing the baby”. Three words, enough to upend his world and drastically restructure the way he has thought about the past year. 

Sam registers this — Steve’s surprise must be apparent — and his face morphs into a mixture of worry and regret. 

“Shit, I thought you knew,” he says. Sam does not reach out and place his hand on Steve’s shoulder in comfort as her normally might, an act — a lack of — that Steve appreciates as he continues to digest the sudden revelation.

He’s learned a lot over the past few months. Friendly faces have taken over his shield. There have been secret invasions and the fall of SHIELD. This is what knocks the air out of his chest. 

Perhaps the reason is because Sam has inadvertently reminded him of a life that has once again slipped through his fingers, a future that he wants so desperately, but can never have.

“What happened?” Steve asks, when his tongue no longer feels like lead and he stops tasting bile in his throat. 

“That’s not my story to tell. You’re going to have to talk to Sharon about that, but don’t be too upset at her, okay? She did everything she could,” Sam tells him. “Go to her, Steve.” 

And so Steve does, an apology on his lips that Sam waves off. 

(What did he do to deserve such good friends?)

He makes his way back to Brooklyn, back to where he knows Sharon will be. He doesn’t pay attention to which route he takes, too busy turning over recent revelations and past conversations.

He recalls the scar on her belly, the one he didn’t recognize that night he laid her out bare on their bed for the first time since he’d returned. She had tensed when his fingers had ghosted over the jagged line, and when he asked, she told him with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes, “I got into a few scrapes while you were gone. But don’t worry, I lived.” He hadn’t pressed then, his mind too foggy with arousal and the desire to make her feel loved. So he let it go, and continued his quest down, down, down until she was grasping the sheets and gasping his name as she fell into a sweet oblivion.

Steve realizes now he should have been more perceptive.

He can roughly pinpoint about when the baby might have been conceived, and doesn’t entertain the possibility that it might not have been his — his heart can only break so much. Back when he had been on the run, when a target had been on his back and she’d been the bait, they’d been sloppy, so very sloppy with when and where and whether to use anything at all. Protection had been the last thing on his mind during those stolen moments, when all he wanted to do was feel and fuck and hold onto the only thing the world he was sure of anymore.

(Her, it has always been her. Even when they weren’t together Sharon has always maintained that special place in his heart.)

Sharon is on their sofa when he returns home. Her cheeks are ruddy, and when Steve’s gaze catches her red-rimmed eyes, he realizes she knows why he came home so soon.

“Sam,” she says by way of recognition, her voice brittle and oh so sad. In that moment, Steve also recognizes that the bounds of Sam’s loyalty have extended beyond Steve himself, now encompassing Sharon in a way that he could never touch. 

(The past year has been hard on them all, and Steve is so, so glad they didn’t have to wage a war with grief alone.)

He crosses the room quickly. His heart clenches when Sharon flinches the moment he sits by her side. She’s always been so strong, so resolute when it has come to her encounters with him. Steve can’t deny that the move hurts, but he understands it all the same, all of their past conversations about children and parenthood racing through his mind. 

He takes her hand in his, threads their fingers and presses a kiss to her knuckles with the hope that she will relax against him, that she might be able to finally trust him with this.

“I’m not— I’m not mad,” he says, because he needs her to know this. Heartbroken, perhaps, and feeling so incredibly helpless, but not mad.

“I love you,” he says next, because he thinks she needs to hear that too, because he believes it with all his heart, and he doubts anything could ever change that. Not even this. 

She turns to him, eyes searching like she doesn’t quite believe him, and that breaks his heart, as well. He’s fought many battles and overcome an untold number of obstacles, but Steve Rogers still struggles with erasing her doubt in his love. 

(Sometimes hates Nick and SHIELD leaving her behind, for throwing her into a situation that forced her to throw up these walls.

Sometimes he hates himself for believing them.)

“I love you too,” she finally replies. She takes a deep breath, before continuing. “It’s why I…”

“Didn’t tell me?”

“Wanted it so badly,” she finishes. “I didn’t deserve it, but it was all I had left of you. And you wanted kids, I know you wanted kids so badly. I felt like I owed you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he stresses, because the last thing he wants is for her to feel as if she is indebted to him.

She shakes her head. “For the briefest moment, I allowed myself to picture it, you know? How ridiculously blonde it would be.”

“Very,” he agrees, allowing himself to picture it for a moment, a small child with Sharon’s eyes — he loves her eyes — and a crown of golden hair. A knot forms in his throat.

“And then...and then…” 

And then she tells him. She tells him about taking the test, about how she wanted to die. She tells him about used a pawn by Faustus, about trying to escape and believing for the briefest moment that Burnside had actually been him. She then tells him how she learned what they wanted to do with their child, the torture it would experience in those monster’s hands. It’s why she fought. It’s why—

“You must hate me.”

“I hate them, and maybe myself, but not you,” he says instead, because that it what he honestly feels. Rage boils in his belly as he thinks about Faustus, the Skull, and his daughter. Hates that they took this away from him, from Sharon, and the trauma they put her through.

Steve hates that she experienced it because of him.

It’s not the first time that the shield has done a number of his personal life. He’s lost loved ones because of it, but this is a special kind of hurt. Sharon had been a target because of her proximity to him, brainwashed to hold and aim an gun at the man she loved and to pull that trigger, forced to weigh the life her unborn child against inevitable torture. 

“Don’t hate yourself for this. There was nothing you could have done.”

“Exactly. There was nothing I could do.”

“And that’s because of me.”

“Because of them,” he replies, falling back into the same circular argument they’ve been having since his return, whether or not she should carry the blame for her complicity it his apparent death. He wonders if they’ll still be having this debate when they’re old and gray. “Regardless, that — that doesn’t matter right now.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No,” he says softly. He rakes his free hand through his hair and sighs. “I just wish you would have felt comfortable telling me, that’s all.”

Because that hurts too. Not as much, but he can’t ignore the sting that he had to learn this from Sam. A dark part of him can’t help but wonder what else she might not be telling him, a thought he pushes away because is neither the time nor place to think these things. 

“Because you knowing or not knowing doesn’t change what happened. You’re home. I didn’t want — I just wanted to focus on being happy while we had the chance to be.”

“I don’t want you to compartmentalize your happiness for mine,” he argues.

“Steve, for the first time in a very long time,  I’ve been happy,” Sharon insists, and Steve can see it in her eyes that she is being honest. “And ‘forget’ is the wrong word, but I had been distracted from thinking about it, you know? Until…”

“Until today.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. Perhaps he had misjudged in his decision to go to her, to ask her about what Sam had said. Perhaps she didn’t need his wallowing. 

“Hey, you know what you said about compartmentalizing my feelings? That goes for you too, buddy.” She gives him a teasing sort of smile, the first one Steve has seen since walking into the room. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was only trying to protect you, and selfishly, me.”

“I know.” This is something the serum couldn’t have prepared him for, he thinks. Steve untangles their fingers so that he can wrap his arms around her, and pull her against his chest. “And I still love you.”

“Good,” she replies, snuggling closer to him. He can still feel the dampness of her cheeks even though his t-shirt, and he tightens his hold. “What now?”

I want to kill them all, he thinks.

“I want to hold you for awhile, if that’s okay,” is what he says. 

He feels her nod. “It’s okay.” 

So they sit, and as Steve is soothed by the warmth of her body and the rise and fall of her chest, he daydreams of the child he might have had, the one that was lost and oh so loved. 

[decandantfics]

Just the Two of Us - Part 1

                                     Two, But One: Alone

"Oh, Al, you look stunning, pet." Ali Astall Donnelly glided into the room in a shimmering, floor length gown that made her husband's eyes roam her curves appreciatively before stepping forward and kissing her soundly on her lips. "Not so bad yourself, love – you look very handsome," Ali rejoined as she moved to stand in front of their bedroom mirror, putting the final touches on her makeup. Catching sight of her husband's reflection, Ali frowned. The smile had gone, and had instead been replaced by a look that could only be described as a cross between misery and an intense dread. "Dec, are you okay, love?" Ali questioned softly, only to immediately mentally slap herself for asking such a stupid question. Of course her husband wasn't okay – they would be leaving for the BAFTAs soon, hence her gown and his tuxedo, and it was normally a fun day out with the potential to end in celebration of hard work paying off.

But this was no normal day, and Ali was worried it wasn't really going to be fun, either. The past two months had taken an immeasurable toll on her husband – his mental health was in shreds, if she was honest, and there was a sense of bone-deep exhaustion weighing down his features most days – and today was going to be a hard one. It was the first awards do Dec had attended without Ant in 5 years, and only the second in their entire career; the last time had been a TRIC awards ceremony when Ant was ill and couldn't make it. That had been an odd enough experience for Dec, even though he had made light of it at the time. If she was honest, Ali was feeling quite trepidatious about how Dec would cope with everything today. Dec's depression had improved slightly since Ant had been released from hospital, but they still only saw each other very infrequently, as Ant was busy moving house and working hard to turn his life around. Ali knew the absence of his best friend from his life was extremely difficult to handle for Dec, who was so dependent on Ant for his own happiness. But Dec had been trying to carry on without Ant, and had more than succeeded in his solo endeavors on the professional front....Perhaps not so much on a personal level. She knew there were times when, no matter how hard she tried, she would never be an adequate substitute for Ant, and she accepted that. The relationship the two men shared was unlike any she had ever seen before, and she doubted she would ever come across a pair as loyal and devoted to each other as they were. So this was a massive step for Dec today, walking the red carpet at the BAFTAs without his beloved partner by his side. Ali knew Dec was extremely grateful to her for accompanying him today – in fact, he had admitted to her that he never would have even considered going if she hadn't wanted to come with him. But he felt obligated to go, since Takeaway and BGT were nominated in the Entertainment Programme category, and he believed he owed it to their teams to be there just in case one of the shows won. Not only that, but he felt a sense of responsibility to represent the Ant and Dec "brand," making sure everyone in the TV industry didn't forget who Ant and Dec were – and if there was one thing Dec was doing everything in his power to ensure, it was that no one forgot who his Ant was. So even though she knew Dec didn't actually want to go, here they were, getting ready to attend the 2018 BAFTAs.

Dec had looked down at the floor, studying his feet intently, as soon as Ali questioned his wellbeing. The truth was, he wasn't okay – was so far from being okay he couldn't even remember what being okay felt like anymore – but he knew he had to do this, he couldn't let the side down. After a brief battle with his conscience, Dec decided the only way to get through today was to lie, so he pasted a bright, fake smile on his face and answered he was fine, just thinking about things. He supposed distraction techniques might work to get Ali off his back – he knew she meant well, and he appreciated her concern, but sometimes she just made things worse – so complimented her dress again before placing a gentle kiss on the rounded bump of her abdomen where their child was growing. "Still can't believe I'm going to be a dad," he murmured, taking Ali's hand in his own as they heard the honk of a car horn outside, indicating their ride had arrived. Helping Ali down their front steps and into the car, Dec sighed resignedly as he climbed in beside her. This was going to be a long day.

The drive had been spent in silence, Dec staring vacantly out the window while fidgeting almost constantly, unable to keep still as the apprehension over what he would face today got the better of him. Ali had given up on trying to get his attention after the first 15 minutes, and had captured one of his restless hands in her own – trying to provide some small form of comfort – resigning herself to scrolling through her Facebook feed on her phone before quickly getting bored of that and answering some work emails instead. But now they had arrived at the red carpet, and Dec was wearing a slightly panicky expression as he smoothed down his tux and got ready to exit their vehicle. "Dec, I'm right here, love, look at me," Ali's soothing voice broke through the protective barriers Dec was frantically building around himself, making him turn and notice his wife again for the first time since they left their house. Ali smiled sadly at him as his eyes found hers and a frightened croak left his mouth, "What if we actually win something? What do I do?"

"Love, we already talked about this, remember? You can't not go on stage with the team, but just stay at the back – you don't have to do the speech if you don't want to." Awkwardly sliding across the seat towards her husband, Ali gave him a hug and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Go on, then, get out – I didn't glam myself up just to sit in the back of a car all afternoon!" Ali teased gently, giving Dec one last reassuring squeeze before nudging him towards the door. Taking a deep breath, Dec pulled himself together and tugged the door handle. As it slid open automatically, Dec forced a smile onto his face before holding out a hand to Ali to help her exit safely with dignity intact – he had never understood how she could walk with those mile-long stiletto heels on, and now with being pregnant, it was rather trickier for her to get around in them. Ali molded herself to Dec's side, clutching his hand tightly, as they sidled through the crowd together, following Ant and Dec's PR manager, Simon Jones, to the area swarming with photographers and reporters. She could feel the tremble in Dec's palm pressed against hers, the tension increasing in his body with each step closer towards what looked like his worst nightmare in his current state. They quickly decided Dec would get the solo photos out of the way first, so he stepped up in front of the photo backdrops bravely, face wearing his best fake smile, as questions were shouted at him from all sides.

"Where's Ant?"

"Isn't Ant with you?"

"No Ant today?"

The repeated questions were like stabs in Dec's heart and mind, but he clung desperately to that fake smile – just keep smiling, he reminded himself, as the walls closed in on him – trying for a cheery, "Just me!" It sounded rather choked, but he thought he'd pulled it off quite nicely. The nonchalant approach, that's what he'd try for. Just keep pretending everything was fine, and maybe it would be.

Who was he kidding? As the sea of cameras flashed, shouts ringing out from every direction as photographers tried to catch his attention, Dec could feel his smile slipping slightly, the emptiness inside him caused by the draught down his right side slowly swallowing him whole. Thankfully, Simon Jones was a good friend as well as a valued member of their team, and noticed things were all getting a bit much for Dec. Calling an end to the solo session, he motioned for Dec to come get Ali, knowing it would help to have someone standing alongside him, even if it wasn't the person he was obviously missing. Feeling the tension in his chest lessen a tiny bit, Dec accidentally let his mask slip for a moment as he moved back into his previous spot, this time with Ali by his side. Ali gave his hand a light squeeze, reminding him to lift his gaze from the ground and face the cameras, as the flashes and shouts began yet again. Finally, the photographers had had their fill, and a relieved Dec and Ali were allowed to move along, gradually making their way towards the venue.

This was the longest day ever, Dec thought to himself, seated on his wife's right as endless awards were handed out in celebration of the great and good of British television. According to the program, there were only two more awards to go before the Entertainment Programme was up. Nervous tension was yet again beginning to build, as his stomach did flips and his mouth went dry. It was bizarre, but he found himself hoping that neither of their shows won. If they didn't win, he could just keep sitting here, he reasoned with himself – and that meant no going up on stage where everyone could stare at him, watch his every move. But of course he felt guilty for thinking that – their teams worked incredibly hard and were more than deserving of a BAFTA accolade. Self-preservation instincts trumped the need for their teams to gain well-deserved recognition, however, and Dec could feel himself slumping down into his seat, the need to disappear from the room slowly suffocating him.

It had been one heck of a stressful day so far – trying to mingle with his peers had been hard work for Dec. For the most part, people were being lovely to him, but very few of them seemed to know how to act around him, as if afraid to say the wrong thing. Thank heavens for the baby on the way – that was the only reliable topic of conversation everyone could turn to, and that was basically all Dec had talked about the entire afternoon. And make no mistake about it, it was a topic Dec greatly enjoyed – it was his baby, after all – but an entire afternoon of answering the same repetitive questions over and over and over again was rather maddening. Both he and Ali had been more than relieved when it was finally time for the awards ceremony to begin – Dec because he was emotionally exhausted from having to act cheerful for so long, and Ali because her back ached and she really wanted to sit down. But now came the really hard part....Oh, Dec just wanted to slink under his seat and crawl unnoticed out of the room. He really didn't want to be here.

"The BAFTA for Entertainment Programme goes to...." Oh, please, please, please let it be one of the other two shows, not ours, Dec pleaded internally, his heart going into overdrive.

"...Britain's Got Talent!"

His heart sinking like an anchor dropped in the sea, Dec pasted what he hoped looked like an excited grin on his face as he forced himself to stand up with the rest of the cast and crew. Ali gave him an encouraging smile, and then he turned to the adjacent row of seats where Alesha Dixon, Amanda Holden, and the production team were seated. Alesha shot him a sympathetic look before hugging him tight. Dec turned around to wave at the SNT team, who looked a bit disappointed but grinned back anyway, before Dec found himself face to face with their lovely executive producer, Amelia Brown. After sharing a warm embrace, Amelia and the rest of the team started to head onto the stage, while Dec found himself still standing in the aisle awkwardly as everyone else filed past. Oh, goodness, what do I do now? Dec was frozen in limbo, paralyzed by his emotions. He was shaken from his torpor by one of the male members of the team pulling him in for a quick hug before motioning for him to go up the stairs. Even though his mind was screaming at him to run away, Dec forced his unwilling feet up onto the stage. However, after greeting the award presenters, Clare Balding and Mo Farah, Dec didn't know what to do with himself. He was lost, drifting in a sea of loneliness and pain. Memory after memory of being up on this stage with Ant flooded his mind, bringing a lump to his throat and a tightness to his chest that made it difficult to breathe.

Hide. That's what he needed to do. He couldn't let other people see him like this. Stepping behind the other taller members of the team – Dec had never been so thankful for being short – he tried to blend in, hoping no one would notice.

No such luck. Within 30 seconds, Amanda turned to giggle at him, finding it quite funny that he was hiding away, resulting in one of the men in front of him realizing Dec was obscured from view. The man stepped aside, leaving Dec exposed front and center, despite his desperate plea through the gritted teeth of a fake smile for continued cover – explaining that this would be televised and he really didn't want to be visible.

Oh, good. Amelia had finished her speech already – surely that meant they could leave the stage? Groaning internally, Dec watched in silent horror as the most senior member of the team stepped up to the podium and began a long, rambling speech. With nowhere to hide from the hundreds of pairs of eyes and several video cameras, Dec felt extremely vulnerable as emotions threatened to overwhelm him again. A member of the team who was close to the boys was now standing next to Dec, and began talking to him in hushed tones. Dec tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but found it difficult to focus, the pain in his chest sharpening as the acceptance speeches he and Ant had given on this very stage rang through his ears. The echo of Ant's voice in his mind and the feel of Ant's arm going around his shoulders in a side hug swamped his senses. Tears springing to his eyes, Dec's tongue poked out of his mouth unconsciously as he repeatedly licked his lips and worried at his lower lip with his teeth. He had to keep it together, he couldn't just lose it on stage like this. That's when he saw it: one of the cameras was focused on the group on stage, rather than on the man currently speaking. Turning to the friend beside him, Dec muttered a slightly annoyed, "Told you," while nodding towards the camera.

'Seriously, just wrap it up, man!' Dec's mind shouted at the man at the podium. He was desperate to get off stage, away from the prying eyes of everyone – it felt like everyone was staring at him, studying him, pitying him, and he just couldn't take it anymore. FINALLY! The man behind the podium signed off on his interminable speech, and the team began moving off stage, Dec hurrying alongside on rubbery legs.

Now came the photocall and the press room. Dec had discussed this with both nominated teams beforehand in case they happened to win the award, and had reluctantly agreed to attend the photocall, but vehemently refused to have anything to do with the press room interviews. He knew what every single question would be about, and there was absolutely no way he would ever be able to get through that without breaking down completely. Steeling himself, Dec plastered a grin onto his face as he formed a line with the rest of the team. Multitudinous photos and a few forced laughs later, Dec was finally set free from what he had privately deemed the official BAFTA torture chamber, and quickly vanished as the rest of the team headed over to the press room.

Rather than making his way back to Ali, who was still seated in the audience, Dec walked swiftly towards the men's room. He needed a few minutes of solitude, needed to pull himself together in order to get through the rest of the night. Relieved to have been able to sneak in without running into anyone he knew, Dec slunk into one of the empty stalls and locked the door securely behind him. Leaning back against the door, Dec let out a deep sigh. What had it come to, eh? Hiding in the restroom because he couldn't control his emotions. "Why, Ant, why?" Dec whispered despairingly, tears coming unbidden to his eyes and spilling over his lashes. Faster and faster they came, until Dec found himself shaking uncontrollably as he tried – and failed – to stem the flow of emotions. It just felt so wrong to be here without Ant, everything was wrong, nothing was right anymore, he just couldn't....

"Dec, is that you?" A concerned voice drifted through the room, dimly reaching Dec's ears over the harsh, rhythmic rattling of the restroom fans....Wait a minute, those weren't fans...that was his own ragged breathing. Dec tried to pull himself together, berating himself for having lost control in a public place where anyone could hear him. 'That could be a reporter out there,' Dec's frenzied mind chanted as he hurriedly grabbed a couple of pieces of toilet tissue and tried to clean up his face, his movements stilling as the voice rang out again, "Dec? I know that's you in there. Are you okay?" He knew that voice, it was someone he knew very well...Oh, Saul! As he finally recognized the voice to be that of Saul Fearnley, a producer on Saturday Night Takeaway and a good friend to both him and Ant, Dec relaxed. Saul was someone he knew he could trust, who wouldn't sell the story to the press or tease him about crying in the toilet. Saul was someone who would understand. Shakily unlocking the door, Dec peeked out, making sure the coast was clear before emerging from the stall. Saul wordlessly pulled him into a secure hug, and that nearly set Dec off again. "Ali was getting worried about you, mate, and obviously it's the gent's – she can't just come walking in here – so she sent me to check for you," Saul explained, watching Dec as he went over to the sink and tried to wash away the evidence of his tears.

"Was I gone that long?" Dec asked tremulously, voice wobbly and a bit croaky from all his crying. He had no idea how long he had been in that stall; it didn't feel that long, but if Ali had been getting worried, it must have been long enough. "Well, the BGT gang were in the press room for 10 minutes, and they got back about 20 minutes ago, so...." Saul's kind voice trailed off, unwilling to point out the obvious that Dec had – apparently – been crying in the gent's for over half an hour. Saul felt his heart clench in pity for the man in front of him, as Dec – having cleaned up his face as best he could – met his gaze with tortured, pain-filled eyes. "I just miss him so much, Saul," Dec whispered, tears glistening in his eyes, before brushing past the producer and exiting the room. Biting his lip as a lump formed in his own throat, Saul shook his head sadly, and followed Dec back to the crowded Royal Festival Hall auditorium.

Dec just sort of zoned out for the rest of the awards ceremony, clapping when Ali clapped, and forcing a smile when she smiled. He wanted nothing more than to just go home when the last award had been presented, but no, he had to go to the after party. The only way he was going to get through this was to drink – not a shameful amount, he knew better than to do that after what happened with Ant, but enough to make him not care about everyone's curious stares and the way some hushed conversations suddenly stopped whenever he got close to the people having them. Yes, he was going to get drunk. He knew Ali would look after him, make sure he stopped when he'd had enough. He just hoped the alcohol would help to numb the pain, stop him feeling a draft down his right side. He doubted it would, but it was worth a try anyway.

Needless to say, Ali had her hands full with Dec that night, managing to keep him from drinking too much – he was just a bit more than tipsy, really – and eventually convincing him to leave with the excuse that she was exhausted (she'd managed to keep her heels on all night – she was proud of herself!) and needed to go home and rest. Surprisingly enough, he had agreed readily, and nearly pulled her out the door in his haste to get to their car. She'd gotten the feeling he wasn't actually enjoying himself – was maybe just drinking in order to cope with having to socialize with his peers – but hadn't realized just how much he didn't want to be there. The car ride home was mostly silent, husband and wife lost in their own thoughts as Dec leaned into his wife's side, their hands intertwined. Not much was said once they reached home, either, each quietly changing into their nightclothes before turning in for the night (or early morning, as it was now). Thus, Ali was surprised when, after they shared a goodnight kiss, Dec's raw voice cut through the hush, "I'm sorry I disappeared on you, Al, it just all got on top of me. I had to get away for a bit. I didn't mean to worry you." Ali reopened her eyes to see Dec only a few inches from her face, eyes brimming with tears. "I know, love, I know," Ali reassured, unsurprised when she suddenly found herself with an armful of crying husband, his silent tears wetting her nightie. After a while, Dec cried himself to sleep, with Ali soon following him, but not until after she had shed a few tears herself over her husband's abject misery. Would things ever get better?