tyhaber

[campbyler]

nobody read too closely when mike is teaching will how to drive. thanks !

[confessionsofa-roleplayer]

I'm sure a lot of people are going to gasp in outrage at this one, but after following the pattern for long enough it deserves to be said: 9 times out of 10, fandom-popular mainstream artists are GOD AWFUL roleplay partners, and it's because they refuse to adapt their approach to this hobby in any way whatsoever. A lot will parrot the old line of 'only create for yourself!!' because that's what they've been living by for the last 20 years, but that does NOT work in a fundamentally collaborative hobby where the recipients are a PART of the experience. Roleplay isn't just a creative hobby, and it's not a solo act. It is, first and foremost, a GAME you are PLAYING with OTHER PEOPLE. Your approach and expectations should reflect that. If they don't, the other party getting fed up with your selfishness isn't the problem. Your refusal to adapt accordingly is.

Being expected to care about your partners should not translate to 'how DARE you expect me to compromise my grand vision???' when your 'grand vision' clearly isn't as grand as you think it is. Cool ideas, cool plot, cool muses, good writing… Wrong medium. This applies to ANY kind of interactive artform; if your art is something that requires outside interaction to function, it CANNOT be an afterthought that gets tacked on at the end. Everyone will know it, and nobody will like the result. If you feel like you're playing tug-o-war with your partners over the cool plot you put together, maybe you should consider WHY that is happening instead of taking your control issues out on other people. The answer is generally that you didn't bother to create it with interactivity in mind, and now nobody knows what's expected of them because there WASN'T anything expected to begin with.

Your partners are not an 'audience' or 'consumers' or 'fans.' They are participants in the process, and should be treated as such. They don't exist to clap for you, they're here to contribute and build onto it.

This gets WORSE when so many insist on taking 'artistic liberties' with the rules of the hobby itself and openly cheat, godmodding and metagaming and the like in order to brute force the result they want, despite claiming to be against all of these things. THIS IS NOT AND NEVER WILL BE OKAY. And if you don't understand why, let me ask you this: if you were on the receiving end, would you be okay with THAT? If the answer is no, don't fucking do it. THIS is the stuff that I've seen kill community after community. Double-standards ruin the game for everyone involved, and it WILL wear people down over time.

So, now that I've focused on what you should NOT do, I'm going to give you a bit of advice: this does not mean you should create things you don't enjoy making, but that you need to look at it from multiple perspectives at once. Create a work that you enjoy making, definitely, but also ensure it's an experience you'd enjoy PLAYING. If you wouldn't have fun as a member of the plot you're running, that should clue you in pretty quick that something's wrong. You don't need to cater to everyone. That's absolutely impossible. But you should at least be catering to SOMEONE. If your target audience is (N/A) then yeah, that's a problem you should probably work on.

This phenomenon is the most glaringly obvious with videogames as an artform; an ambitious creator designs this whole big game with beautiful art and a story they enjoy writing, but the gameplay itself is a boring, frustrating, and/or glitchy slog that was never designed to be played, and thus completely overshadows the experience they thought they were creating. Nobody plays it all the way through, their story is left untold, and the creator just screams and bawls about how nobody appreciates their 'art.' No, people appreciated your art. That was what got you in the door. What they don't appreciate is that nothing else about the experience was worth their time-- because apparently it wasn't worth yours, either.

Roleplay has far more in common with a videogame than a fanfiction, despite what most of the RPC today would like to claim. Neither one can tell its story if the audience refuses to engage with it. You need partners no matter what, so do your best to ensure they enjoy being there. Otherwise they won't stick around long… And you'll have no one to blame for that but yourself.

[subfunctions]

Ya know, I saw some posts you reblogged about Tilda and like the peeps put it into words how uncomfy I felt about her and everything. I knew I felt something off about her and sure I guess she makes a good villain(and I guess as a WLW), but I could never end up liking her like alot of people in the fandom do.

Idk if this means anything coming from a bisexual white woman but ya know. 😅😅 she kinda creeps me out alittle.

I mean I’m white, but it’s important to get a feel for media trends surrounding characters of color so that you can notice when something is off. HZD had a problem with appropriative elements and treading a bit too close to white savior-ism, and I’d have to spend more time with HFW (which I’m not keen on doing) to really get a feel for what improved and what didn’t.

some of the characters and concepts are truly lovely, don’t get me wrong. (Zo <3 and then they killed Varl off and made Zo pregnant. are you fucking kidding me 😡) but so much is just glaringly bad.

re: Tilda: the thing is, I love evil women and evil gay women, so it's a feat and a half to make me not care. but it's insidious that the main plot of this game feels so rushed and off for the sake of white billionaires, and that GAIA is brought back in this game but barely explored, while her plot about loving Elisabet for a thousand years, even for existing that long as a link to the old world, is given to a white billionaire. instead of using them as a backdrop to inform the present-day conflict (like HZD did with Ted), they are uncomfortably front-and-center.

I can't even bring myself to care that much about Beta because I'm just too mad about the way the Zenith plot steamrolls over so much. I don’t care about another clone (which I never thought was a good idea anyway), because if they were going to bring GAIA back so fast, then it should have been so Aloy and GAIA's relationship could be the focus. GOD.

like, congratulations. you've made me mad about the fact that GAIA was brought back, because it was in a cheap, lazy way that ignored the first game, and it didn't involve Aloy demonstrating creative intelligence or leadership or anything, and it was just so that GAIA could be a convenient plot mover while her characterization was sidelined. ironically, I probably wouldn't have hated the whole game if she wasn't in it, because then I wouldn't be mad on her behalf. doing the one thing I wanted most, but in such a boring way that I have a petty grudge and my hater gene has been activated? now that's a feat.

and like, no one else is going to get mad on GAIA’s behalf, so it’s my duty as the World’s No. 1 GAIA Stan to be a hater for her sake. people go wild for AIs in a game like P/ortal. why is this different?

and now my pettiness won't let me suspend disbelief (and I had been saying that they needed to tread that razor-thin suspension of disbelief very carefully), so I'm just sitting here like.... the human mind isn't evolved to withstand a millennia, why aren't these Zenith people balls to the walls bonkers in yonkers and going Lord of the Flies on each other within a century. why are we building a plot about how stewardship of the Earth is crucial, and then tossing that in the garbage to go "actually, other planets are an option :)." why are we pretending that billionaires would be competent enough to survive that long instead of immediately keeling over like the leeches they are. why did Varl die for the sake of this garbage plotline. WHY.

sorry, this has turned into a rant, lol. back to Tilda, briefly: doesn't help that I was also fresh off of playing P/athfinder: W/rath of the R/ighteous (four times), which has a similar villain who is a really excellent character, who has such a dynamic and interesting relationship with the player character. that game has several great villainous women (excluding one badly written companion), a few of whom you can romance as a woman depending on your choices. at this point, it's like.... I have too many examples of good characters to accept scraps in the name of representation or whatever. give Aloy a girlfriend, and then I'll believe you're not just doing some basic-ass pandering.

[onebizarrekai]

ok NOW I have time to talk about the v3 ending for a second and why the popular belief that the audition tapes were real is one of the most baffling things to me. don’t get me wrong, ‘pregame’ has the capacity to be an interesting au if done correctly, and there’s fun to be had with it, but the writing in the game does not actually encourage you to believe in its existence and it’s so odd to me that it’s taken as hard fast canon.

I mean, actually, you technically can check. I think this is the writing deliberately encouraging the player to revisit the prologue and see that the way tsumugi described it happening in the trial is not actually what happened.

number two, they claim that the prologue of the story began after they got their costume changes, which is also obviously not true. it started when they came out of the lockers in their ordinary school uniforms. (seems like tsumugi is indirectly trying to divert attention away from that point that the player has access to, claiming that it is not part of the story.)

shuichi specifically flashbacks to this moment. they go on for like three minutes talking about how everything tsumugi said could’ve been bs.

they literally end on that note of shuichi refusing to believe they auditioned, and very ambiguously too. they didn’t actually give anyone any incentive to believe what happened during the trial–in fact, they encouraged otherwise.

amidst all the ambiguity, the only lead the game really gives you is the one that tells you to replay the prologue to confirm where the characters can’t. the attention drawn to this particular inconsistency between the prologue and the final trial feels very purposeful, not to mention shuichi’s lack of belief towards it. the difference is glaringly apparent. like I said, it draws attention.

of course, they don’t resolve it at all and the whole game ends on a big maybe, but again, the only lead they give the player is revisiting the prologue. they want you to see how it’s inconsistent. the truth is not supposed to be set in stone.

there were a couple other things I wanted to mention.

one, prior to being refitted as ultimates in the prologue, all of the characters remembered being kidnapped. if they had willingly signed up for the killing game, why in the world would they need to be kidnapped? why would all of them seem so confused about what’s happening if they had knowingly auditioned for danganronpa? if they’d already had their memories wiped at that point to prepare them for new memories, why let them remember that they were kidnapped? it seems very convenient for tsumugi that nobody remembers anything from before they transformed into ultimates… but the player does.

even tsumugi’s explanation of the prologue flashback makes very little logical sense. if all of them really were fans of danganronpa in some regard, they would probably know right away that they were going to appear on the show; there wouldn’t be any room for confusion. if tsumugi’s account was even accurate in the slightest, and there was somehow some dialogue that was obstructed from the player during the prologue, it seems infeasible that it would take them so long to realize what was happening because they would have suspected it the moment they woke up in a dark, mysterious school and were asked to gather at the gym.

not to mention, why the heck would they show kaede and kaito’s audition tapes and not maki and himiko’s–y’know–the two other people that were actually there? it’s like this “evidence” was handpicked for the protagonist… oh wait.

two, ever since I noticed the implication that maki is not affected by flashback lights, it puts a whole new perspective on every story she tells in the game and even her placement and purpose in the killing game itself. I feel like this theory speaks for itself, especially when you take into account maki’s story about going to a convention (tsumugi in her natural habitat) to kill a target, and failing.

three, kinda.

all three of their school uniforms in their audition tapes are distinctly inconsistent with their sprites.

after I noticed shuichi’s, I was about to pass this off as another dumb artistic mistake, but then I checked kaede’s and kaito’s and found the same exact thing.

let me point them out if you can’t see them very well: shuichi has 3 buttons on his uniform, not 2, kaede has 1 stripe on her uniform and not 2, and kaito’s buttons are black on his shirt in his sprite and rather ordinary in the audition tape. also, shuichi’s shoes look light brown, even though they kinda match his hair on the sprite. the inside of kaito’s jacket collar is also white on the sprite, while it isn’t in the tape.

… I really wish I could say this is a striking observation and all, and possibly even intended to be proof that the tapes were fake, but also… I’ve made a post about the art inconsistencies in this game before. I failed to notice this one at the time, but v3 is not known for the quality and consistency of its art. a couple of kaede’s prologue cgs show her with two stripes as well. heck, the one of her being kidnapped up there is one of them. when I realized that all three of the audition tapes had inconsistencies with the official character designs, I got my hopes up a little… but we can’t win ‘em all, huh.

anyway, long story short, the epilogue implies one thing: it’s that 1) the prologue is different from how tsumugi explained it, 2) the player has the power to revisit it to confirm this, and 3) the game wants you to revisit it to confirm this, deliberately drawing attention to the incongruity of the two tales. the version of the prologue that the players see is not part of tsumugi’s grand story. last of all… it’s just my own theory about the game itself, but I think tsumugi was full of shit and the players were never supposed to take what she said as the simple truth to begin with, especially due to the narrative encouragement to distrust it.

it’s clear that the game planned for ambiguity and multiple interpretations and reception, thanks to all the ‘maybes’ it ends on… but isn’t it so strange that fans seem more willing to trust tsumugi’s contradictory account rather than the distrust of the main characters that has so much attention drawn to it? nobody knows what’s in the outside world… and that’s the point.

[ahugenerdynerd]

So I think a lot of us can agree that Titans isnt a great show. But not just with their portrayals of the characters but also with the writing.

I personally can forgive what Titans has done with the different takes of the characters, don’t get me wrong it’s still shit but that’s not what this post is about.

The show is just packed full of bad writing. This coming from someone who has studied film for over 4 years. But anyone who knows anything can see how bad the writing is.

(I will be waiting to pass judgment on season 3 until the entire season is out, so this will be focusing of season 1 and 2)

Analysis under the cut

Firstly they will establish something, only for them to completely forget about that fact next episode. Case and point in episode 7 of season 2 Dick finds out that Deathstroke has been stalking them and is in the tower. After that he rushes back, visibly distraught with a gun in hand dramatically declaring that Deathstroke was there in the building. Only for in the very next episode for that fact to have been completely forgotten and now they’re all just leaving and it never gets brought up again.

This isn’t the only time something like this has happened but it’s the most glaringly obvious one.

Something that they also do which is most prevalent in season 2 is the spacing of the events between episodes. Titans will dedicate entire episodes just for one part of the story. This may work for some shows, specifically sitcoms that are aired on tv. Shows like The Big Bang Theory or Friends that viewers generally aren’t going to be watching in the correct order so they’re made to be stand alone episodes. But Titans isn’t a sitcom nor is it being aired on tv. What they really should have done is spread these scenes out over several episodes as flashbacks rather than to condense them down into one episode. Because by having the full flashback episodes it makes the show feel disjointed and they interrupt the drama and the suspense. It’s like getting to the climax of a film only to be interrupted by a 40 minute ad. You end up not really caring for the episode because you just want to know what happens with the cliffhanger from the previous episode. When really the events of these flashback episodes should be the most important and interesting part of the show. Where we get to see what happened between the Titans that made them brake up and character backstories and the like.

I think the most disappointing use of this is with the episode ‘Connor’. Rather than condensing Conners entire backstory up to meeting the Titans into one episode leaves a lot to be desired. I would have much preferred to have seen his backstory of escaping Cadmus and his relationship with Eve spread out over sever episodes in tandem to what was happen with the main cast. It would have created a lot more build up and anticipation for him finally meeting up with the rest of the Titans. Whereas what we got was one episode where we could easily guess exactly what was going to happen and where too distracted by Jason supposedly falling to his death to really appreciate the episode.

Secondly, is the shows pacing. It is all over the place. Season 1 was especially bad when it came to this and season 2 was only marginally better. Obviously I’m going to be talking about what happened with Trigon.

Fist of all the decisions for Trigon to be the big bad of the fist season was an interesting decision to say the least. But let’s forget about the comic book aspect and look at what made this season so bad writing wise.

Basically it all boils down to set up and pay off. The set up obviously being how the show sets up the climax, in this case the battle against Trigon. And the pay off basically being how rewarding the climax feels for the audience. With good writing you will have a pay off that is equal to or greater than the set up. If there’s not much set up then it’s easier for the pay off to be worth it for the audience. However in Titans case they set up the battle against Trigon right from the get go slowly building it up over the season, painting him as this neigh unbeatable force. Admittedly Titans was already of to a bad start with their decision to include Trigon in the first season what with the comic fans already knowing about his character and having to live up to the pre existing show Teen Titans as well as the animated movies. In a way they set themselves up for failure.

However where they really let themselves selves down was with the pay off. After having all this build up for the battle against Trigon, the final product falls extremely short. Where they really went off was not including the finale for the season in the actual season but instead moving it to the fist episode of season 2. I don’t know about any one else but when I went into season two after how season 1 ended I was expecting a majority of the episodes to be about the trying to defeat Trigon. But not even 40 minutes in and he’s defeated. This felt extremely unrewarding and underwhelming after waiting an entire season and the time in between to find out what’s going to happen next, only for him to be defeated almost immediately with little to no fuss.

This battle should have definitely been drawn out more. Taking place over several episodes or at least and entire one, where all of the Titans have to work together and struggle to defeat him. Rather than Raven just going out there herself and beating him instantly. There was no reward there. It was just over.

They had a similar problem in season 2 with Deathstroke, one of the Titans main villains. Going through all this build up and emotional turmoil only for him to just be stabbed and oh look he’s dead. You don’t just kill Deathstroke.

Side note: no one checked for a pulse, so I am personally of the opinion that he wasn’t actually dead but was just laying there playing dead hopping no one realised

Finally in this list of examples of bad writing is their tendency to introduce something new out of nowhere with no previous foreshadowing. The most obvious example being in season 2 episode 7 where out of no where we find out that Dick is hallucinating seeing Bruce. This came out of absolutely no where when there should have really been some build up to this. Maybe we could have seen Dick acting oddly, or Talking to no one or really anything. But we got nothing. It felt like someone had just come up with the idea on the day of filming with no previous forethought. Not to mention the fact that it basically only lasted the one episode, with it briefly coming back in episode 11.

Tl:dr: Titans had so much potential to be a great show but they just fell short with the writing. Everything just feels very rushed and not very thought over and they definitely could have done better.

P.S There is definitely still good writing in Titans however. Mostly to do with their portrayals of mental health. So don’t take this post as me just dissing on Titans. Maybe I’ll write another post about the good writing or analysing their camera usage, idk.

[consumeconstantly]

Innocence, avoidance

Summary: Jason Todd cracks crass jokes and dirty comments like they’re his lifeblood. It turns out, he’s just getting it out of his system before he sees his little sister again. (Or: Marinette gloms onto Red Hood after her parent’s death, and there’s no way anyone can stop her from being with her older brother.)

___________________________________________________

Jason Todd, AKA Red Hood, is not the kind of man people go to when they want to complain about their life problems. They go to him when they want a quick, oftentimes violent solution; Red Hood isn’t exactly a renowned empath. In comparison to his other Bat Family counterparts, he is at least 10 times more crass and almost 15 times more violent. 

It is accepted that although Red Hood makes situations turn out for the better, he is no shining paragon of human virtue and kindness. People trust him to watch their backs and not to fuck them over so long as they’re working within his very clearly defined set of values, but he’s just not the kind per person that anyone would entrust their kid to during their Friday date night.

Until somebody does.

The door to the warehouse is already open, and he has a gun in his hand, ready to threaten the little crowd he’s gathered today when a woman hops out of her car and shoves a pig-tailed girl with wide blue eyes and an almost blindingly neon pink outfit towards him.

“There you are, you weren’t at the drop site!” says the woman, who instantly begins to back away from the two of them once the little girl picks herself up off the ground that she landed on. Red Hood notes the license of the getaway car, making a mental reminder to deal with them later, but the car makes tracks. The little girl frowns at the disappearing car, eyes the gun in his hand, then decides that she’s going to stay put. 

Red Hood looks at the rabble that has convened in the warehouse, down at the little girl, then back again. There are at least five people in the room that are eyeing the little girl greedily, and he’s sure that if he just lets her go, she’ll be captured by one of them faster than he can bat an eye. He doesn’t exactly have time to put the girl in a safe place, not when it’s taken him months and a good number of heads in order to draw these people here. 

She looks wary of the gun and of him, but not scared. Everyone else? Half of them look like they’re about to burst out laughing, and the other half have looks that he’s eager to wipe off their faces.

“Aww, look at that! Hood has finally found his way into the dark side of the business. What’s next, prostitution?”

Without hesitation, he shoots with deadly accuracy at the man’s hand. The man keels, bending over and clenching his bloodied appendage. Other than the man’s screams, the room goes completely silent.

Red Hood casts another glance at the little girl, who has, slowly but surely managed to inch away from him and into a safer position. She’s holding onto her sparkly purple plastic backpack like it’s the only thing that’s keeping her alive. Smart kid, not to run. Or was it dumb? He wouldn’t shoot her, and he’d take out anyone else who tried to, but the girl didn’t know that. She probably just assumed that she was going to his next target.

“All of you shut up while I deal with this.” He inhales deeply and kneels down to get on eye level with the girl. Not that she can see much of his eyes, given his helmet, but still.

He has half a mind to go after the woman, but he’s not about to leave the little girl amongst the group of criminals that are gathered in the warehouse with him. Briefly, he wonders how the hell that couple even knew that he was going to be here tonight. He also wonders what he’s going to do with the kid. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

She looks up at him, hands clenched around a plastic pink backpack with some kid’s cartoon on the back, then looks out at the people that have gathered. There’s a moment of silence, and Red Hood is sure that she’s weighing her current options. Smart kid. Eventually, she shifts her body weight closer to him, apparently drawing the conclusion that he is the safer option than the other people who are here tonight. Smart kid.

“It’s Marinette, sir.”

No last name. Not sure if that’s a pointed decision to keep her identity at least partially concealed, or just because she doesn’t have one.

“And those weren’t your parents?” It stands to reason that the people in that care aren’t her parents, but he needs to make sure.

Marinette clenches her backpack tighter. “No, sir.”

“Where are they?” He has a sinking suspicion if those weren’t her parents, and she’s not up in tears, asking for a phone to call them, that--

“They’re dead, sir.”

Sometimes, Jason wishes he could be wrong on things like this. 

“Then who were they? And don’t call me sir. Too formal.” 

“My mom’s... second cousin, I think? I never met her before, but I got sent here anyway.” 

One of the men shifts. He’s one of the men who Red Hood pegged as a possible child trafficker. Underneath his helmet, Jason’s eyes narrow. He now has a fairly good idea of how the couple figured out that he was going to be here tonight.

“Do you know how to get back home?”

At that, Marinette's mouth almost twitches up into a smile. “No sir. I don’t think there’s a home to go back to, anymore.”

Red Hood sighs. Putting the information presented to him together, he quickly comes to the conclusion that Marinette’s parents have died recently and that nobody in her immediate family has found out about their passing, or they don’t want her. Somehow, the couple picked her up-- possibly when she was going to a friend’s house, judging by the whole school girl look she has going on-- and thought she would fulfill the trafficking requirements laid out to them. 

That means that there aren’t a lot of options available to her. He can redirect her to the foster care system, but everybody knows foster care messes up kids permanently. Even though she looks to be pretty street smart, he couldn’t just let her live out on the streets in good conscience. Her outfit looks too clean for her to ever have lived in poverty, and she definitely checks the box for a lot of the trafficking rings that have been popping up recently. Mixed descent, the possibility to be pretty when older, and very, very pure. She’d get picked up off the streets within hours if she just let her be. 

He decided that he’s let her have the final say. “What do you think I should do in this situation?”

She shuffled her pink ballet clad shoes, eyes darting to the sides. He had to give the girl this much at least; even though she had the whole innocent look going for her, she was very aware of her surroundings. Her body language implied that she didn’t believe him to be that much of a threat— and in any other case, he’d fault her for that, but given that let their surroundings were a drug den he’d let it go— and tilted herself so she could have as many people in her sights as possible. “Sir, I think as long as you could get me out of here safely, I’ll figure out how to take care of myself.”

The man Jason was watching, the possible trafficker, tensed. Yeah, Jason is definitely going to have to take care of him later. This kind of a reaction as good as cements the suspicions he’s had. 

“Tell you what, princess. Do you mind waiting outside for me? I’ll help you out once I’m done here.”

Marinette eyed the rest of the room. “How long will you take?”

She’s asking all the right questions. Maybe it will be easy for her to fit into the slums of Gotham. 

“Not long,” Red Hood promised. “Ten minutes at most.”

The collection of people who have gathered in the warehouse all swallowed uncomfortably. Everybody knew that when Red Hood dealt with things quickly, it typically ended in copious amounts of bloodshed and shock. 

“Okay,” Marinette paused, grip loosening on her backpack. “Ten minutes.

#

Red Hood doesn’t particularly want to have Marinette around for the violence that’s about to occur, but she’s already seen him shoot one person, so it’s too late to shield her innocence. And violence? It’s a slippery slope.

He makes quick work of the room; half of the people he brought out here, he kills off directly. The other half are made to watch as the people they’ve associated with for years die in front of their eyes. This is a power play. A way to… persuade them to reform. Because the people he’s left alive? Red Hood has left them alive for two reasons. One. They’re not nearly as bad as most of the higher ups in Gotham. Two. If he kills all of the people who have dabbled in anything bad, the chain will be completely messed up, and there will be too much room for unknown variables to make their way up the ranks. He wants people he can control. And the people he’s left alive? He can keep all of them in line.

Marinette is not waiting outside for him. They’re right next to Crime Alley. This is not going to end well.

#

He’ll give the little girl props for somehow managing to avoid his detection. 

To be more precise, he’s hoping that she’s simply avoiding his detection, and hasn’t gotten swept up in something bad. 

It takes Jason three hours-- three hours-- to find the girl who can’t be much older than ten. Probably not even ten, judging by her size. 

“You’re lucky it’s me finding you, and not someone else, Pixie.” He finally catches a glance of her glaringly sparkly backpack, complete with fairies and unicorns covered in some sort of holographic overlay.

Marinette immediately backs up, looking definitively worse for the wear. She’s gained rips in her clothes and  a nasty looking scraped knee. Her face loses all color when she sees him. “S- sorry, sir. I swear I wasn’t running away, it’s just that there was someone outside who tried to grab me, and--”

If Jason didn’t know better, he’d believe the girl. 

However, he does have a decent number of connections, and those connections ensured that nobody was going to be able to come near the warehouse once his ‘meeting’ started. Though, he’ll have to have a talk with them, given that someone tried to pass the goods right before it started. Jason is fairly sure that the couple has been apprehended by now, but checking later tonight won’t hurt. 

Which means Marinette made the decision to run.

Again, that would have been a very, very smart decision had she not found herself in Crime Alley of all places. It looks like she’s learned a little bit about why she should stay away from places like this.

“It’s fine, Pixie. Like I said earlier, just call me Red Hood, or Hood. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Marinette balks.

Jason sighs. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but you can trust me. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. All I want is to see you safe.”

“But,” Marinette bites her lip. Her eyes drop to the guns at his side. That’s… that’s a good reason not to trust him, to be honest. If he were in her position, he’d already be running.

“Do you have anyone you can contact? Anyone you trust? I can take you to them.”

She’s starting to tear up, and god, Jason cannot deal with crying children. Marinette’s big, blue eyes and pigtails and her general smallness. He just can’t. “Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. What, do you-- do you want a cookie or something? I can bring you to a bakery before we talk? Sweets are supposed to cheer kids up, right?”

Marinette lets out a watery laugh. 

“I like macaroons,” she offers.

#

“So, how old are you?”

In the warmth of the bakery, Marinette looks markedly more relaxed. She went to the bathroom to clean her face and cut off, and now she looks like the poster child of one of those band aid ads. Lively, a little mischievous, and, you know, a child.

She takes a delicate bite of the shortbread cookie-- not a macaroon, there aren’t many reputable bakeries in Gotham that are close and have French pastries. “Nine and a half.”

Oh man, she’s younger than Replacement. 

“You’ve really got no family here? None at all? No friends you can call?”

“No, I’m from France.”

Well, that certainly answers a lot of questions. But brings up additional ones. “You speak English very well.”

“Maman and Papa ran a very popular bakery. We got a lot of foreigners. Before we moved to Paris, we lived in New York.” She takes a sip of her drink, whipped cream stuck on her nose. “And I don’t remember anyone from New York. We moved to Paris when I was three.”

Jason sighs. “What do you want to do?”

“Maman said that if I were ever left on my own, my only job was to survive by any means.” 

“That’s…” He tries to find the right words. “Interesting advice.”

In what parallel universe do parents of a bakery in Paris-- one of the major cities in the world with the lowest crime rates--tell their children to survive by any means?

“Did she tell you how?”

Marinette tilts her head, pigtails bouncing. “She told me to trust my instincts and never to trust the police.”

Great. That explains why she didn’t ask for someone’s phone to call the police. Not that the police in Gotham are the best people to go to for a case like Marinette’s, but then again, there’s not really anybody good to go to for a case like hers. 

Vague advice is the best way to get a kid killed. But since Marinette isn’t already dead, it stands to reason that her instincts haven’t failed her yet, and he really does have no clue what to do with her.

He briefly contemplates taking her to Bruce, but strikes the idea down almost instantly. Marinette fits all of the requirements to become a Robin. Tragic backstory, black hair, blue eyes. He’s not going to put another child into Bruce’s hands just so he can ruin their life by not doing his job. Besides, Bruce doesn’t know he’s alive yet, and he wants to keep it that way for now.

“Then what do your instincts tell you to do?”

Does he feel like an idiot for asking a nine year old that? Yes, but what else is he supposed to do? Taking care of kids was never part of the job description when he signed up to be Red Hood. (Then again, it wasn’t like there was a job description to begin with.)

Marinette takes another bite of one of the cookies on her plate. “They tell me to stick close to you.”

Even better. She’s imprinted on him.

@jasonette-july-2k20

[queerofthedagger]

The Wicked Day is such glaring proof that Arthur isn't like Uther at all, like... There's this sorcerer who he knows fuck all about and who promises to cure his father. Arthur promises in return to free his whole kind once he's king. Considering he expected Uther to be saved, that's a BIG FUCKING PROMISE. And it's not as if Arthur just jumps and agrees in a "anything, anything you want" kind of manner; no, he actually thinks about it and recognises Dragoon's (Merlin's) suffering. There's this sorcerer that makes Arthur carry him on his back through Camelot and he puts all his damned pride aside because he just, he's so fucking hopeful. He's so fucking trusting.

And then? Then, to Arthur, it looks as if Dragoon still killed his father anyway. Despite that huge fucking promise. Despite everything between that, despite how glaringly desperate Arthur allowed himself to be. I mean—did it require one of the most important people in his life to almost die for him to go to this extreme? Yes. Could there be a point be made for how he "turns to magic for his own sake, like Uther did." Hmm. I'm sceptical because there's much more depth to it and for all that Arthur was the prince, for as long as Uther lived, he held rather little power especially on anything concerning magic, but probably, yes, you could make one. It wouldn't be a good one, but it would... certainly be one.

Anyway. And then, from his perspective, Dragoon actually, still, kills his father. Like, you genuinely cannot blame him for not buying Dragoon's expression of shock. And Arthur just—he fucking. He orders a search, yes. But that's it. That's the bare fucking minimum. And my point is not, "look how great Arthur is for not starting another purge over this!!" because while, yes, I could make that point and I'd be right, it's a ridiculously low bar and not what I'm about tbh. My freaking point is that Arthur's main objective, not at any point in time, was revenge. Justice? Yes, maybe, and rightly so from his point of view. Revenge though? Not at any point in time did that even occur to him.

Not at any point in time did it occur to him to blame anyone but—most of all—himself, and then Dragoon. It wasn't even his fucking fault. Of course, it wasn't Merlin's either and let's not get into Merlin's guilt because I will sob, but this is such a pivotal key difference to Uther at the very foundation of Arthur's character; that he never, not at any point in canon, thirsts for revenge on any of the people who—seemed to have—wronged him. He always blamed himself first and foremost up to a truly worryingly degree, and it's the direct opposite of how Uther dealt with his grief and guilt.

Like seriously, I'm by no means saying Arthur would've been justified in seeking revenge or god help us, start another purge. Doesn't mean there weren't enough prompts for him to follow in Uther's footsteps though, the one constant "role model/example" he's ever had.

And yet he didn't, he did the direct opposite, and I think people genuinely sleep on how very much this says about his character.

(Also don't fucking @ me, Gaius and Merlin not telling him about the necklace made sense at that point in time because it wasn't even established to Arthur yet that there was a traitor, but that's a post for another time.)

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Pheromones

Fandom: Mass Effect

Collection/Series: N/A

Pairing: Selene Shepard x Garrus Vakarian

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: T - Suggestive themes but nothing NSFW

Warnings: N/A? I think (if i’m wrong let me know!)

Summary: Selene’s a little confused about something Javik says to her, she naturally asks her Turian boyfriend about it. 

Notes: Based off this conversation with Javik. I’ve never actually written Shakarian stuff in all my years of loving the ship. But, with Mass Effect: LE taking over my life, why not? 

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“So...Javik said something really...weird when I went to see him earlier.” 

It had been a long day; finding out Cerberus was turning people at Sanctuary into husks, seeing Miranda again, stopping her father from killing Oriana...it had taken a toll and then to come back and have a really bizarre conversation with their Prothean teammate? Well, Selene Shepard was glad to be back in a pair of yoga pants and a large jumper. 

If Selene was completely honest with herself she was exhausted. The war was taking its toll on her, all the responsibility that lay on her shoulders only seemed to be lightened by the support of her team and most importantly, Garrus. Her cybernetics had been bright and bold across her skin as of late, a sure sign that she was running out of steam. Despite the exhaustion, Javik's words weighed on her mind, confusing, curious and just a reminder of how alien he really was. 

Garrus came out of her, no, their shower, towel around his cowl, visor, no longer obscuring his face for once. God, it is so utterly domestic between the two of them now and something in her aches with the awareness that this might all be cut short, that domestic might never be a long term option for them. She hopes it will, hopes silently that they’ll get to retire somewhere, have a couple of kids, a varren or two, and life out their days into old age. 

“Weird? Weird to humans or...just weird?” The dual tone of his voice rings with curiosity. It had taken her two whole years of missions with him for her to actually get a good grasp on his subharmonics and even now there were things her weak human ears couldn’t quite pick up on, or even hear at all. 

She thought for a moment as Garrus sat down next to her on the bed, nuzzling his face between her shoulder and neck like he always did. It was something she’d taken as a turian sign of affection, the way his plates scratched at her skin and mandibles fluttered across her shoulder, she could only compare it to a human placing kisses down. A nuzzling that he never failed to do, whether they were standing and he had to bend over or they were sitting or lying down. 

Leaning into him with her eyes closed, she traces a hand across the plates on the back of his neck. “I...think it's just weird? He said he could tell we were ‘joined’ because of my...pheromones…” 

Garrus froze in his nuzzling, pulling back with his face plates drawn together, mandibles fluttering in confusion. “Well, yeah? I scent you all the time, been doing it since you agreed to be a one turian kind of woman. I thought...I mean I smell like you too…?”

“Scenting? I what?” Selene was decidedly confused, Garrus didn’t smell like her at all. In fact, the little scent that he had was of the more metallic and engine grease kind from spending all his time tinkering with things or modifying his sniper rifle. She certainly didn’t smell like him, not to her nose anyway. 

She pressed her face into his cowl and took a big, over exaggerated sniff. Nothing. He didn’t even smell like her shampoo or the jasmine soap she’d managed to find on the Citadel. Just...Garrus. 

Garrus chuckled, three fingered hand cupping her cheek, filed down talons grazing carefully across her skin to smooth out the furrow between her eyebrows.  

“Oh, right, you humans and your terrible sense of smell. Cute.” His grin flared his mandibles out wide, sharp teeth on show in a display of good humour.

“Garrus!” He liked getting a rise out of her, enjoyed seeing the pale skin of her cheeks turn as red as a Palaven sunset, something Turians just could not do. It was always so distinctly human, glaringly alien, but adorable. Not that many people would describe the Commander Shepard as adorable, but most people weren’t in a committed relationship with her...or he hoped most people weren’t. 

“Honey, it’s normal. We sleep together, we make love,” She groaned a little at the word choice as he returned to nuzzling underneath her neck, talons moving up and down her back in soothing motions, “we shower together, we go on every mission together, we spar together…” Selene can’t help the little moan that leaves her mouth as his breath warms across her skin before that tongue of his, blue and ridiculously dexterous, carves a path over her shoulder and up her throat, lingering on a spot behind her jaw that he knows all too well. 

“And turians are kind of known for scenting their partners.” 

“What does that even mean? Scenting? Like a cat? Are you marking your territory?” She’s never taken Garrus for being possessive, in fact, he was decidedly cool under pressure whenever someone decided to try it on with her. Occasionally he’d shift in a way that told people to back off, pressing his chest to her back, but that was only in instances where the person didn‘t know when to quit. Usually an overzealous asari or persistent human. The idea of him marking his territory, or even seeing her that way was kind of out of character to her, he just wasn’t like that. They were equals in everything they did. He was her person and she was his, one of them wasn’t more dominant in the relationship, they were partners. 

“Yes and no. You're not my territory, honey, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you're a one turian kind of woman, but I trust you and I know you can handle yourself. It’s a habit really, an instinct. I’m surprised you don’t know, you do it too.”

It’s a relief to hear him say that. While she finds Garrus ridiculously hot when he goes all bad boy vigilante turian on someone, the raw power he exudes is something else entirely, something different that starts a fire in her belly, she also doesn’t want to be seen as an object or possession. 

“I do?” They’ve gravitated, as they always do, towards each other. Selene finds herself curled up in Garrus’ lap, arms wrapped around his cowl and nose pressed to the junction of his neck, pressing light little kisses there had become a favourite pastime of hers. Calming, soothing. 

“Mmm...all the time, that little nuzzling thing you’re doing?” She pulls back, startled, eyebrows almost comically high and red still tinting her cheeks, “Yeah, I thought you were just a little possessive, but maybe this is one of those interspecies miscommunication things, huh?”  

“I...oh.” She curls back into his neck, bashful in a way no one else sees. Garrus enjoys seeing her like this, out of her element but trusting, seeking comfort in him even as he’s the source of her embarrassment. Their relationship is unconventional and with it has come embarrassment and nerves from both sides, but it’s the trust in him, and his trust in her that’s made it work, that makes it worthwhile. 

He runs his fingers through the red of her hair, the strands soft and silky, a sensation that he still finds fascinating all this time on and one that he knows she finds soothing. He can only compare it to how he feels when she caresses underneath his fringe. 

“So is that why that C-Sec officer stopped flirting with me every chance he got?” She thinks of the dark brown turian, bright orange markings across his face. Before she’d seen Garrus again, before they’d rekindled their relationship, he’d been determined to flirt with her, no matter how many times she politely turned him down. He’d since stopped, his tone always overly polite and formal, nervous even. She’d assumed Bailey had given him a dressing down, but...maybe not. 

“Mmm, probably.” His chest rumbles with the hum, soothing and deep, reverberations running through her, “Most turians aren’t going to flirt with a taken woman, ever seen two turians get into a proper fist fight? It’s more claws and teeth than anything else.” No turian wanted to get into a fight over someone they had a passing fancy for, that Garrus knew for a fact, best to leave someone alone if they were clearly in a relationship.

“Would you? If someone tried it on?” She’s curious, deeply so. Part of her wants to know he would, but part of her wants to know that he’d think about it, and take his time to decide if it was necessary. Garrus had always had a bit of a temper, quick and righteous and determined to put things right. But, he’d mellowed with age, with her nagging him and convincing him to spare people who’d wronged him and others. He was more calculating these days. 

“Depends.” A hand falls to her waist, circles being rubbed into the skin underneath her jumper, absent minded and soothing as his blue eyes look to the skylight above her bed, staring out at the stars. Contemplating his next words.

“On?” She leans up to press a kiss underneath his chin, the soft exposed skin tempting her.

“Do you want me to? How badly are they trying to get into your pants? Are you in danger? Do you need me to? Is it someone I know and despise?” His voice rumbles in his throat, she feels the vibrations against her lips and ringing through her ears. That was something about being with a turian that she loved, the subharmonics were soothing to her ear, the rumble that always seemed to roll through his body was comforting. She wouldn’t call it a purr, mostly because Garrus would fix her with that look, narrowed eyes, mandibles drawn tight against his face. He’d probably go back to calibrating the guns for a week or two straight. God, she hated that. 

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t fight for my honour?” She’s teasing him, but she can still feel him tense up. Her lack of subharmonics tended to confuse him whenever she joked and he couldn’t see her face. 

Taking pity on him Selene pulls back so he can see the amused little smirk that tugs at the corner of her mouth, freckles scrunching up across her cheeks and nose. 

“I...you’re messing with me aren’t you?” There’a a palpable sigh of relief from him as his shoulders relax and he rolls his neck before pinning her with a playful glare, huffing through his nose at her. He’s the only person she can truly be playful with and she knows he enjoys it, the closeness of their relationship isn’t lost on either of them. He makes her feel less tired, more alive, younger, even if it's for a brief moment before reality crashes back down again. 

“Yeah, just a little, big guy.” She tugs his face down gently by a scarred mandible, he follows easily, putting himself in reach so that she can press a kiss to his cheek, across the blue colony markings that are oh so familiar to her. Affection with Garrus is easy: “I love you, but I don’t need you tearing someone’s throat out for me...unless it’s Kai Leng, you can tear his throat out.” 

The assassin was a thorn in her side and she was close to snapping, her usual restraint and desire to talk things through was failing. She wouldn’t negotiate or talk with Kai Leng. If she finally got the chance...well, he probably wouldn’t be recognisable afterwards. 

“Oh, I'm tempted, believe me. There’s nothing I'd like more than to put every ounce of my anger and hatred into beating Kai Leng into a bloody pulp. Buuuut, I think you deserve the satisfaction yourself.”

“I love you, you know that right? Even if I'm walking around stinking like a turian vigilante.” She caresses the lengths of his crest and underneath, scratching short nails against the soft skin there and the purr, because it is a purr, that rumbles from his chest is almost as satisfying as the thought of finally getting revenge on Kai Leng.

“Reaper Advisor actually.” He brushes his cheek against hers, hard plates brushing against soft skin, gently, not hard enough to chafe or rub. “I love you too, even if I'm walking around stinking like a self-sacrificing human spectre.”

[43sparrows]

l o n g e d - {Five x Reader AU}

Read Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3 / Part 3.5

Warning: smut

Word Count: 2,713

Note: please come scream at me in my inbox

Call me.

You've been dreading this note from Five for the past week. It's not that the words are new--a week ago, it would've been excitement causing the twisting feeling in your stomach--but it's the fact that this is the first note you've gotten since you're meltdown. Sure, he'd brushed off your apology, but it's been almost a full week since you've seen each other, and something just doesn't feel the same. Even your roommate has noticed something's off, and while you've shared the news about your ex, you can't bring yourself to tell her how you've gone and proven yourself to be more work than you're worth to Five. So, while the note itself is normal enough, you have the sinking sensation that this is his version of "We need to talk."

And you don't want to talk.

That's why it takes you hours to finally steel yourself up enough to return his call. The sky's growing dark by the time you dial in the number, standing in the hall with you head tilted back against the wall, the phone cord weaving between your fingers.

"Five." His brusque voice makes you want to hang up the phone. Instead, you adjust your grip and tug at the cord.

"Hey," you say, softly. "It's Y/N."

"Took you long enough." His voice is still flirting with being abrasive, but he's saying more than just a couple of words which must mean something. You're not sure what though. "What are you doing in...two hours?"

Confusion knits your brow together as you wrap the cord around one of your fingers. "Nothing, I'm free."

"Howling Rock Cafe. I'll be at the bar."

"Ok," you agree. There's a pause and then the other end of the line goes dead.

You sigh before slowly untangling yourself from the cord so you can hang up the phone and get ready

It's glaringly obvious within the first few seconds of entering the bar that this is not Five's scene.

You can't help but compare this place to the smoky night club where you first met.  It's like night and day--and not just because this place has strobe lights bathing just about every inch of the room in colorful lights.

For one, it seems to be crawling with barely legal drinkers. It's not like the two of you are that far removed in age from the rest of the crowd, but Five doesn't exactly seem the type to want to relive college nights out.

And then there's a cover band with the amps turned up way too high as they work their way through pop covers. You miss the lyric-less music of the other bar with its relentless beat that seemed to reverberate in your chest.

It crosses your mind that maybe Five had meant another place or that you'd misheard him on the phone, but then you catch sight of him sitting at the bar with a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

"What are you drinking?" You ask, slipping into the seat next to him. He looks at you with heavy lidded eyes, pupils already blown wide. His gaze slides from the curve of your breasts that disappear beneath the plunging neckline of your little black dress down to your legs.

His eyes flick back up to meet yours. "Brandy. For now."

The line would be clumsy on another man's lips, but something about the way he says it has you dizzy, and it's the one piece of Five that's seemed anywhere close to normal since that night.

You tear your eyes away from him, flagging down the bartender to order yourself a gin, neat.

"So," you say, anxiety knotting in the pit of your stomach as you toy with the question that's been on your mind the entire way to the bar. "Howl's?" You change course last second, asking a different, less terrifying question.

"I've heard things about this place," Five said with a shrug. "Figured I'd check them out."

"What'd you hear?" It's genuine curiosity, and maybe it's the refocused attention or maybe it's the large gulp of gin, but you feel yourself relaxing slightly.

"I heard they're heavy pourers," Five says, taking a sip of his drink. He lifts both eyebrows and places the glass back down on the bar.  "But it would seem I heard wrong."

You laugh. Nothing about this place suggests they have strong drinks. The prices are too cheap. The crowd is too young.

"At least the atmosphere is nice," you quip, and Five looks around the room before shooting you a mildly amused look. He opens his mouth to say something but is cut off by a loud group of co-eds who just walked in the door. You turn to look. One is draped in a pink "It's my birthday!" sash. This does not bode well.

"Let's go back to mine. I've restocked," you offer, but Five shakes his head. You wait for him to share a reason or even pick up the sentence he didn't get out, but he doesn't, instead taking another sip of his subpar brandy.

You wish that you had your own drink in front of you, shooting a look at the bartender who looks to be making about four drinks at once. The knot inside of you has come back, growing even tighter as the silence extends. Silence has never been uncomfortable with Five before.

You attribute this largely to the fact that up until this point you've always been so careful about following the rules of engagement, as it were. And while you don't know for sure, it feels like you're guilty of a breach of contract. You wish you could remember what you said, but you can hardly even remember what you did. It's all a blur.

You know he came over, you announced your ex's engagement, and then he tucked you into bed and made sure you had coffee the next morning.

There had to have been more to that night than just that, though. Because emotions and caretaking--that wasn't part of the deal.

Then again, neither was going out to bars.

The  bartender placed your gin in front of you and gratefully you took a long drink from it. You could feel Five's eyes on you as you lowered the glass back down.

"That kind of day?" he asked.

You returned your attention to him. "That kind of week," you corrected. He nodded and toasted you with his own glass before the both of you drank.

You tapped your finger lightly against the side of your gin, the alcohol had yet to take hold but you could feel the warming sensation flowing through you. It was enough of a comfort to know that soon the nerves that had been humming beneath your skin all week would be quiet. "So, why are we here?" The words slipped past your lips, earning a raised eyebrow from Five.

"I told you, I wanted to check this place out."

"That's it?" Your finger still beat steadily against the side of your glass.

You could see the awareness dawn on Five, a sly smile twisting at his lips. "I can't just want your company?"

Your heart skipped a beat. Or maybe it was three. And although the alcohol was supposed to have you pleasantly numb, instead you felt like you were on fire. "I would have thought you had enough of my company after last week."

Realization reached his eyes this time as he shook his head at you. "No," he said, angling his body more towards yours. "I haven't had enough."

The two of you are in the bathroom two hours later.

As far as bar bathrooms go, it's surprisingly clean and roomy. The second part is probably due to the fact the owners had opted for a single use closet style bathroom as opposed to anything remotely functional for the size of the crowd this place has drawn in with it's mediocre music and watered down drinks.

It's not the worst place to have sex, but if you were in your right mind you probably would have insisted that Five pop you back to your place instead. But the consecutive drinks and Five's hand trailing up your thigh had been so intoxicating, you didn't even protest when he took your hand in his and dragged you in here to push you up against the sink.

His mouth is on your neck now, his teeth lightly nipping at the skin there, his hands keeping your dress bunched up at your waist. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he moves your panties to the side, pressing a finger into you. "Five," you mumble, a moan escaping you as he curls his finger.

"Louder," Five commands, his lips grazing against your neck, moving down to trail love bites along your collarbone. He pushes into you again, and his name falls from your lips again, this time at a normal volume.

"Louder," Five urges, kissing under your jaw, as you fist the back of his shirt in your hands. Your entire body feels like a taut string, and he's just getting started. You know this has to be quick, there's probably going to be a line outside, but the way his fingers are moving has effectively killed all thoughts outside of the fact that you haven't lost him. He's still, in some small way, yours.

"Five, please," you plead, and you're not quite sure what you're pleading for--release or more of him.

"Fuck," he swears, withdrawing from you and spinning you around, so you have both hands on either side of the sink, your ass exposed to him. He leans in close, and you can feel the length of his entire body against your back.  "I love it when you beg." His whisper is hot in your ear, and a needy gasp leaves you. Dirty talk isn't part of the usual routine, and you didn't expect it to have such an effect.

He withdraws, his fingers tucking into the sides of your underwear and dragging them down to your knees. Behind you, you hear his buckle clink as he frees himself from his pants. It's a second more of anticipation before his hands find your hips, and he slowly enters you, allowing you to feel each inch of him. His fingers dig into your hips as a groan leaves him. Warmth blooms in your chest, and you promise yourself that you'll remember this moment and that sound forever.

Five continues to move at a sensual pace, and your eyes flick up to the mirror, taking in his face. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, and an intense but unidentifiable feeling builds in you. And then his hips unexpectedly snap into yours, earning him a loud moan.

It also seems to earn a knock at the door.

"Alright guys, wrap it up. Other people need to use the bathroom," a gruff voice says on the other side of the door.

It might have been a bit of a mood killer if it weren't for the fact that Five repeats the motion, leaving you gasping. He pulls you up close to him, one hand on your hip and the other toying with your breast. "Can't leave them waiting," he grunts, and your head lolls back onto his shoulder. Despite the fact that it's been shorter than the vast majority of your sessions together, you're more of a needy mess then you've ever been. Maybe it's the combination of the alcohol and publicness and the sounds coming from Five, but whatever it is, it's not long before you're cumming, and not long after, he is too.

There's now pounding at the door.

"Come on, you guys gotta get out. Let's go."

Five smirks at you from where he's pulling his pants back up--or at least, if he was anyone else you'd call it a smirk. It's softer than usual though--although it's still not quite a smile. Like you're in on the joke with him. It makes your heart beat a little faster, and you're just able to stop yourself from a full blown smile, the corners of your mouth turning down in an attempt to seem cool as usual. He gestures with his head towards the door, and after checking yourself in the mirror and making yourself seem slightly more presentable, you follow him out, keeping your eyes trained on the floor so you don't have to look at the bouncer or line of people waiting by the door.

Unfortunately, the bouncer seems to have other plans.

"Y/N?"

You know that voice. Without the door between you and the fake gruffness, it's clear as day, and it feels a bit like someone has dumped a bucket of cold water over your head. You feel painfully sober.

Your eyes widen, and you turn to see your ex dressed in the black t-shirt and jeans, looking just as shocked to see you.

"Oh my God," you mumble.

"Uh--" he says, pointing to the door, and you make your way towards it, Five still next to you, and your ex following up behind you. You stop just beside the door, across from where another bouncer is checking IDs.

"Sorry, I--you can't stay." He does seem genuinely apologetic, and you're not sure if it's just the awkwardness of the whole situation or if he really feels bad.

"No, no. I get it," you shake your head. Five's hand drifts to the small of your back, and your previously blank mind remembers that oh yeah--he's here too. This is the worst moment of your life. "Oh, this is, um, Five. Five, this is Jordan. We...we used to date." That seems like a wildly simplistic introduction for both of them, but you're still reeling.

"Five? Like the kid from The Umbrella Academy?"

Five's smile is so fake you wouldn't be surprised if Jordan could also sense the thinly veiled animosity. "The very same," Five says, holding out his hand and shaking Jordan's. His arm returns around you.

Jordan looks like he's a mixture of confused and impressed, and before this situation can get any worse, you open your mouth and start saying words, hoping they come out in order and make sense.

"I didn't know you work here."

Jordan's eyes linger on Five for a second more before meeting yours. "Yeah, I had to pick up another job...I'm getting married."

"Oh, congratulations." you say less than earnestly, pushing hair behind your ear. Emotion swirls in your chest, pressure building to react--to sob, to scream, to sink into the ground. Anything but stand here.

"Well," Five says, coming to your rescue. "I should take her home." You look up at him, and there's a ghost of smugness on his face. If you hadn't studied him for so long, you might have missed the look, but it's there.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Jordan nods, stepping back towards the bar. "It was good to see you, Y/N."

It's a lie. But he's not the only liar here. "You too," you say nodding. "Good luck with the wedding."

"Thanks," he nods again like a bobblehead, and you turn and head out the door quickly with Five.

The two of you walk down the sidewalk and towards the parking garage in silence. It's not until you're passing rows of cars that Five speaks.  "Did you drive?"

You shake your head, your thoughts still on the way Five had handled that situation. You have a terrible feeling.

It's unspoken that Five will give you a ride home, so you don't bother to ask for a ride. Instead, you save up your question, waiting until the two of you are stopped at a red light, halfway home to ask.

"Did you know he worked there?"

The corner of Five's mouth turns up. "Might have been a thing I heard about that place."

You have more questions, but you don't want to ask them. That one was enough to shatter the illusion you'd been creating all night.

That he had brought you out because he wanted your company.

That he might return a hint of the feelings you had for him.

That this was something other than what it was.

Read the final part

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities. 

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

[qlala]

hello ! please tell me anything you want about the snart siblings. headcanons. anything they’ve said or done that made you think. ANYTHING please i’m starving

Ooh well, one of the things that's always interested me is something we didn't get to see on screen: how Len’s relationship with Lisa changes after he kills Lewis. (tw: discussion of child abuse and parent death)

Len all but raised her; Lisa’s about fifteen years his junior, so there’s a strong parent-child element there, not just siblings. There were periods he was gone, though, and those complicated their relationship, times he was in jail and times he ran, because he was young and didn’t know how to take care of a kid—Lewis certainly hadn’t taught him.

Lewis going away for long stretches put a huge strain on Len to take care of Lisa in her formative years, but they were also some of the only times they felt safe at home. Lisa remembers those as some of the happiest times in her childhood, and Len never mentions the multiple jobs, the other things he had to do to make ends meet, barely older than a kid himself and trying to keep child protective services off their back.

Len worries about what Lewis will do when he comes back after a few years to find Lisa is growing up beautiful, and is resolved to kill him if he detects the faintest hint of that danger. But Lewis doesn’t care about Lisa; he’s never had patience for a daughter, he doesn’t bother training her and Len always puts himself forward to keep Lewis from bringing her on heists.

So Lewis doesn’t care at all about teenage Lisa, still comes roaring after her with broken bottles and belts when Len isn’t there to get between them. Even when Len’s an adult, Lewis is bigger than him, has weight on him, but Len is fast and dangerous and Lewis stops coming after him and starts targeting Lisa instead.

Lisa runs away and Len feels like it’s a failure, hates himself for being relieved. She takes time in National City, years; payphone calls while Len would drive across the country if she just gave the word, needs to see that she’s alright; she’s too good of a liar over the phone, and he never gets anything real out of her.

Then Lewis gets an eight year sentence and Lisa breezes back into Central like she simply decided it was time to live there for a while. She’s twenty-two, a worrying beauty, with keenly weaponized femininity and ruthless ambition to take exactly what she wants from whoever she wants. She demands a place on his crew and Len turns her away, so she seduces the plans out of one of his crew and robs the place an hour before he does, lets him show up to an empty vault.

After that, he lets her in on low-profile jobs. Lisa tests the boundaries, tries to slip his plans every now and then to keep him on his toes, to undercut his authority a bit. She’s the only one Len allows that from; it’s sibling rivalry.

When he kills Lewis, things must change. Lisa’s shown an inclination to trust Team Flash, is friendly with Cisco, but shows no regret for her line of work. She’s only ever been mistreated by men in her life (Len and Mick the only exceptions, at first, then Cisco, then the Flash).

So when Len starts going soft (and he is going soft. He wants to be better, wants to take control of his destiny. He won’t kill innocents, he stops the others from doing it. He talks about the Flash with respect and something like envy. He’s afraid, but changing.), Lisa is troubled by it. It upsets their dynamic, he’s less tolerant of her deviations from the plan. More controlled. Striving towards something. For the first time in their lives, he has something to prove just to himself.

Then their father is dead, and Len did that. Lisa isn’t sad, she’s relieved, but it reopens that wound. It’s a sick feeling realizing she’s an orphan, there’s loss even if it’s not grief.

She hears Len goes quietly for the crime, and Lisa can’t visit but he does call. They speak in code; she’s angry at him for getting caught and his voice is strange: he’s in prison to give himself time to repent, to give himself time to think about what he’s going to do when he gets out. He hasn’t made the decision yet how much to help Team Flash, but Barry’s offer is chasing itself in circles in his mind. So Lisa hears the change and doesn’t know how to move forward without his guidance. She takes up Rogue heists while he’s away, runs with Hartley and Shawna and a few of Len’s crew who respect the blood and her strategic mind.

Her and Len are going to have to hash this out when he gets out, can’t keep having this cyclical conversations on the phone, where he always asks about casualties and what she’s heard from Cisco lately. (Cisco is still wary but allows her company over coffee. Cisco mentions that The Flash really believes in Len, in both of them. Lisa says they didn’t ask for that, they are who they are, thanks very much. Cisco backs off but doesn’t retract his statement. He makes a joke, he’s just saying, he has a design for her costume in mind. And he can do one better than that parka. Lisa gives him an arch look, and they change the subject.)

She’s more in touch with her guilt than Len is, more conflicted about the people she’s killed. She doesn’t let herself dwell on it, but she’s aware that it’s there, and that she’s running from it. So Len is more getting to where Lisa is, which embarrasses him, and takes away some of the stability Lisa has always relied on. It takes time to find their new normal, but Lisa loves Len, and is willing to see these changes through. Len, again, is embarrassed by what amounts to admitting he was wrong, each instance of doing good feeling glaringly obvious and incriminating, because of decades of being trained never to show weakness.

They get to normal eventually, but never talk about it aside from a single comment over dinner. Len mentions something they need to account for to keep the Flash off their backs during the next heist, and Lisa down at her food for a long moment, then glances up at him. This is after Mardon breaks him out, post-Lewis’s death, after almost a year has passed and they’re settling into their new roles, still a little shaky but almost there. Len gives her a flat “What?” and she cocks her head with a smile like she’s just realized something funny, and says, “Sometimes I think that brat’s the best thing that ever happened to us.”

It cuts Len deep, he goes still. The idea that Barry not only changed him, but also changed his and Lisa’s relationship. And they are better; they’re eating dinner together at her apartment, a quiet night, no heat on either of them. Their bastard father is dead and they have enough money to keep them going for years if they decide to take a break, thanks to Barry’s agreement not to chase them down after hours following a successful heist. After a few long moments, Len just spears another piece of food, doesn’t disagree, and it’s as good as an acknowledgement.

(And then he doesn't join the Legends, because, sorry, this man is an anxious control freak and he's not leaving Lisa alone without backup or any way to reach him. And she would probably punch him for trying. It's them against the world, exactly like he always promised her.)

[dubsxreader]

worship the king //.o1 // shigaraki tomura x female!reader

summary: after the soul crushing realization that you're not meant to be the Hero you've spent your life training to be, you hunt down the most indiscriminate killer you know: Dabi. his man-child of a leader being there only makes the task easier, right? too bad Shigaraki has a knack for seeing things in others they don't see themselves. wc: 3,312 playlist: here!

rated: M for dark and mature themes; future lewd tw: suicidal ideation (seriously don't read if you're in a bad mindset this probs won't help), depression, toxic thoughts, manipulation, the start of a v dependent, idolizing relationship ie "worship" in all definitions of the word haha. Shigs taking advantage of a mentally vulnerable hero basically; dead dove do not eat for that reason.

a/n: this is something I wrote almost year ago now, when I first fell head over heels for Shigs and really felt like bnha was saving me from insanity haha. I have 15 pages of notes for this fic, but for now, for the King's birthday, this is my thank you to him and a year of loving Shigaraki Tomura <3 also to the xreader community for being my gateway into every fandom that takes over my life haha. will be posted to ao3 later

You stand on a cracked, littered rooftop, sullenly looking over the calamity you figured would be destroying the lives of every day, happily unaware citizens tonight. A slight sigh of relief leaves your chewed-to-hell lips, hidden to your own addled mind but glaringly apparent to any of your fellow heroes who’d commented on your state of mind the past few months.

You appreciated their care, you really did—for all the surface level care it could give, that is. It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t understand. They were simply more Heroic than you, official capital and all. More driven, stronger, faster… But you’ve been doing the absolute best you can, and you were sure of that. Days–weeks months?–of harshly honest self speculation assured you of your failures and of the fact that, simply put, you weren’t cut out for shouldering multitudes of lives every time you stepped out your door. Heroism didn’t just end when you took off your costume; no, it was an ideology that should be ingrained into the soul of the costume wearer, and you’d come to the jarring conclusion that, after all your special training, you just weren’t up to snuff.

You couldn’t even save yourself from your own demons. How the hell were you supposed to save those more deserving of life if you couldn’t cope with your own shit?

A small, condescending snort leaves your nostrils as you observe the blue flames engulfing the area below you. Fucking worthless. What was the point, then? Hours of support Hero's work on your items, costume—wasted. The countless words of love and support from friends and family. Ha. Your eyes track the small movements of the current chaos’ perpetrators with a keenness you've found twisted comfort in recently. A familiar, all encompassing fixation gears up that brings you out of the cloud of self-doubt, hate, and deprecation that was so, so wrong to feel as a Pro-Hero in today’s society. In this bubble there's a solution, so it's okay. You let out a numbing breath.

Maybe you could give the Villains +1 morality in the eyes of whatever twisted being rested on their laurels, idly watching as you drive yourself insane.

A swift gust of wind knocks the empty cans and bottles from their peaceful resting places as you leave your perch, descending into the empty alley below to begin your last stand against yourself. Resolute and heavy steps echo in the widened, deserted streets of the city you vowed to protect—a small, still aware part of you thankful it’s so late at night that most would be sleeping. Your targets (saviors?) usually moved when they would make the most social impact, but you’d been tracking a certain member that didn’t seem to adhere to their strict schedule.

Whoever they were behind the obvious moniker, they seemed to kill liberally. It should be easy. You take a numbing breath.

The stench of burning flesh and ash is suddenly all too pungent, assaulting your senses enough to kick your mind into another, more logical plane and question how stupid you’re being. How disappointed everyone who knew you would be. Izuku and Hitoshi, especially, had been trying their hardest to devote extra time to you recently, you knew that—fuck, how selfish were you to bring their attention away from a goal they’d fought so hard to achieve?

The flames are smoldering char on concrete when you arrive at the end of another alleyway, just as dirty as the one you’d come from… But the incineration just seemed to have cleansed the way of its trash. You nearly sigh again in morbid relief when you see two men still standing there in the aftermath. You can see from behind that the man you’ve been tracking, Dabi, still has his left arm extended, as if relishing the memory of his flames destroying the ones he deemed unworthy.

Hands in your hero costume’s pockets, you steel yourself in your usual Hero emotions: indignation, conviction, disgust at the idea of them feeling they had a right to do anything going against the grain of the society you were indoctrinated into. You clear your throat with the last of your practiced confidence, bringing the sights of the two Villains to your own frame shadowed by the bright street lamp at your back.

“You two aren’t planning on getting away with this, are you?”

Your simple, deadpan drawl has both men scoffing to themselves and sharing a look of exasperation and annoyance. They clearly want nothing more than to be done with whatever the hell they were doing; your gaze sharpens in acknowledgment while their own take note of your hero costume. This is it. This is really it. You’ve done it. Is it really what you want?

Your eyes ice over, hardening to protect your vulnerabilities when they meet those of the second man’s own carmine flecks, so unflinching and so, so bored from behind his trademark hand.

Yeah. This is it.

Resignation freezing the rest of your visage and nothing left to say, you dash forward with simple physical speed, locking onto the Villain you recognize as the leader of the League of Villains himself. Sure, Dabi was a proven relentless killer, but you figure if you go after the leader himself there would be even less hesitation or time to think on either side. They were both reportedly unflinching, ruthless, uncaring and absolutely evil, but Shigaraki’s devilishness was practically beaten into you at this point. He was the obvious candidate, the oddness of his presence meaningless yet welcome at this point.

Your eyes never leave his as you take those last three lunging leaps, your arm cocked back in a hopeful show of some impressive power you might possess, in a display grand enough to paint yourself as a threat if not at the very least an annoyance.

Blue flames lick at the back of your costume. You’d somehow been faster than Dabi’s flames, which made no sense at all—you weren’t fast in any capacity if you were to judge yourself. It must’ve been a misfire. Lucky you’ve targeted the faster acting Villain.

Something distinctly odd flashes in his previously disinterested eye as you rush him, your Quirk barely powered yet still reflecting in his observation as you aim for the mask. Your own, in contradictory spite, slows as your mind races, brushing the hand enough to feel the inexplicitly soft and leathery texture, knocking it clean off the face of the man you’d targeted. Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it's the anticipation of the end, but you don’t feel anything near what you thought you’d feel when his living hand grazes your outstretched arm. If anything, it feels like an angry wasp had come at your elbow in some sort of misguided revenge attempt. Bearable.

Fucking livable.

You skid to a shaky stop feet behind them, your glare going to the small hole in your costume’s arm where he’d made the briefest of contact. The skin had only begun to crack and decay from a central point; nothing near the scale and intensity you’d been warned about by your superiors and peers. What the fuck gives?

A desperate rage threatens to erupt at the lack of damage. You feel cheated. Your eyes shift from the minimal damage to the apprehensive yet notably curious eyes of your chosen euthanasist. Was he just not taking you seriously? You didn’t blame him, but…

“I thought the League was the best of the best?” The sting in your arm is mockingly there and you scoff, barely hiding your indignation at his unfulfillment of the role you’d forced upon him. You take it and use it to fuel the crumbling foundation of your resolve, ashing it to the ground yourself and focus on the slightly slumped figure topped with white-blue hair.

His eyes are now magnetized and piercing, never wavering from your own, adding to your rage and confusion. Just what is he getting at, looking straight at you in the fucked up state you’re in and just–just fucking seeing–?! You aren’t looking for pity, fuck all if it's from the person you’ve deemed would have the balls you didn’t to end this shitty nightmare you live in. With a primal, anguished and utterly guttural scream you dash forward once more towards Shigaraki Tomura, hand erupting in a more accurate show of your true power.

Once again, he simply guides your attack away from him into empty space, this time with a deft shove of his index finger. Silent and calculating. You stumble on your feet as you land, ignoring the insulting sting, and turn to face them at a pace you know isn’t up to Hero standards but unable to even fake it anymore. Your eyes, though.

They fucking call to him.

How could he dust you? A Pro-Hero, coming at him alone, a deadly ally at his side, with what he knew from his research to be nowhere near their quirk’s power and potential?

Nevermind the look in your eyes he’d recognized immediately—this Hero was asking to be killed. Cracked lips twitch to grin at the situation. His mind works at full throttle to balance the possibilities.

“Heh…” The small breath leaves him, a smirk winning out and pulling at already taught skin, “You’re looking to die, aren’t you, Hero?”

Your brows furrow in… Fuck, you can’t identify your feelings at this point–they shouldn’t matter–they’d become obsolete the moment you took a swing at the supposedly impulsive and irrational Villain in charge. All you can feel is the overwhelming sense of weight, of pressure, of absolute and total CHAOS destroying any semblance of unity you’d pulled together to end this.

“What the fuck does that matter to you, Villain?!” Your glare is full of a rawness you can’t recognize, let alone mask, “Fucking fight me or die!”

His smirk, now fully on display, stretches to the smuggest of smiles as he takes his experimental first steps forward, casually retrieving the hit hand and placing it safely in his trench coat pocket. You weren’t immediately attacking him—hell, you weren’t even defending yourself! You’d only be more obvious if you’d delivered yourself to his doorstep tied in a bright, blood-red ribbon labeled “do what you want, I don’t care anymore!” It made his blood simmer, his skin itch in excitement at all the optional routes opened up before him.

Quickly, too quickly to deploy your defense {even if you wanted to}, he’s in your face and encircling your neck in a four fingered grasp. Your eyes vaguely mark Dabi looking on with a detached interest, and you can’t help but mirror his lack of understanding—your emotions and thoughts unfortunately too far past controllable to be hidden behind the usual Heroics.

“You could still serve a purpose, you know.”

Narrowed (e/c) eyes meet piercing, analytical rubies set to freeze and crumble enemies. You have no answer to that, none at all—if you hadn’t come across another anything while you’d been searching in earnest, how could it be tossed into your lap from the hands of a Villain? Your clear disbelief doesn’t deter him in the slightest. It only gives him the subtle signals he needs to ensure a dedicated new member of his team. This situation could only go well for him and the League, if he plays it right, and he’s thankful Dabi knows when to shut the hell up and take the back seat when he truly should.

He’s never seen Shigaraki’s version of recruitment before. After Dabi's climate destroying display, he could use a lesson.

On the edge though this Hero is, the line is thin and the touch needed is delicate and calculated.

“You can make a real difference in this rotten world,” Shigaraki slowly lowers his defensive arm and loosens his grip on your neck, conveying his intentions to calm you. He notices this strikes an especially sore nerve that you’re too unhinged to recognize. You’re taken over by your emotions, unable to distinguish that you’ve offered your weaknesses to your enemy on a silver platter. Disgusted rage he’s now certain is self-focused meets him, only bringing him a step closer to your frozen and highly panicked figure. His free fingers fidgets on the clammy skin of your neck, tapping a pattern across your throbbing pulse, expectant and soft while the other stays loosely, carefully, against your clavicle.

It's constant.

It's… calming?

No, it's fucking overwhelming and uncomfortable and— As if your body’s acting on the last vestiges of your studies, you struggle in his grasp and pull your dominate arm back, channeling all your sadness and panic you’d been unable to expel into the attack you hoped would just fucking end this fucking end this it’s done—

Another four fingered grip captures your wrist, directing your power away from anything important and only ruffling Dabi’s clothes as he watches on. You choke on a cry, near your mask’s end with Shigaraki’s unexpected patience. You’d been told this was nothing more than a spoiled, raging, calloused young man entirely unable to connect with any feelings other than his own selfish need to destroy all Heroes he came in contact with. The only conclusion your racing mind can come to is that he doesn’t even view you as a Hero worth destroying. Thick and torrid tears rush from your eyes, betraying your need to be recognized and being denied that luxury in your final moments.

“I can’t even get what I need from you fuckfaces—!” Your cry rings out, eyes shutting tightly, shaking with the force of your emotions finally finding the breaking point they need to crash through into the real world, “What the fuck can I do to make a fucking difference?!”

Shigaraki pauses to assess your sobbing. You’ve all but folded into yourself; you would’ve disintegrated against his hold on your neck if he hadn’t been paying attention. No… he sees you. He sees you. His fingered grip on your neck slides up to force your head to follow, meeting his sure gaze. You’re lost. You’re anxiously grasping at anything you can to stop the burning, itching need to destroy your own mind… And he gets that. He knows what it took to hook him tightly into his own mindset. He knows of seeing a seemingly impossible goal set before him, of feeling unworthy and needing to prove himself to his peers and himself. If anyone could reshape you... it would be him. If anyone were to reshape you... it should be him.

“It isn’t fair, is it…?” He starts slowly, voice dripping with cooing understanding, gauging your expressions and body, “You work so hard to be what others want you to be… And never feel enough, even when you put your all into it.” Your whole being shudders at his words, breaking down and melting into the pressure of your expectations for yourself. You choke on another messy sob, tears blinding you, snot nearly reaching your lips, a trail of drool unknowingly slipping from the corner of your grimacing lips.

“We’d never expect more than you can give, you know,” He all but whispers into your ear, his words echoing with staying power. You miss the tiniest bit of excitement he lets slip into his tone at the thought of corrupting a fairly strong Hero to his cause with mere psychological one-upmanship. The power over your entire existence is an intoxicating prize and he’s not about to let go of it if he can help it.

A sad cross between a whimper and a cry escapes you as you crumble even more into a hold you’d only come to for annihilation. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why weren’t you dead? You’d wanted to die, needed to just stop everything and just—just STOP, finally, just stop. He was a hardened criminal with no need for heroes, what the hell kind of use did he see in you? You still the tiniest bit. You just need a use, a tangible use, is that what you’ve been missing? A clear direction set before you by an overwhelmingly liberating, intelligent, capable force… Could he see it through all the absolute shit you covered yourself in?

A tentative spark lights the furthest parts of you as you finally meet his confident and knowing gaze. Fuck if you don’t feel seen for the first time in your life, finally seen and accepted for the absolute mess you see yourself as. The conflicting, philosophical doubts you’ve had about Heroism, and your own heroics in the existential race you call a life, find a peaceful place in Shigaraki Tomura’s vision.

It's an alien calm, a powerful sedative on your mind, leading you to melt into his look—telling him all he needed to know and more. The grin he sports widens and his eyes shift to give a silent command to Dabi, still (surprisingly) observing quietly, before changing your life indefinitely, “Follow me, little hero. You'll never be lost again.”

A deep, swirling purple warp gate you’d only seen in footage appears at the entrance to the alleyway.

The loose grip on your neck finally leaves completely, giving you ample room to escape up and out across the rooftops. You’re frozen in your battling thoughts at the suddenly very real decision in front of you.

You knew you weren’t good enough to be a Hero. You’d been struggling with the core beliefs on what the word even meant, if the world you’d been taught was even so black and white. Did you even want to die or did you just need someone to come and give you a purpose, some great refocusing direction? Someone to swoop in, recognize and acknowledge your pain before wiping it away and giving you something definite to live for? You knew you couldn’t make it as a Hero. You were nothing in that world. But maybe you could make that nothing existence, doomed to the weaker, better…?

Eyes nearly blinded before blinking down more streams of tears, you sniffle and take a tentative step towards the man looming tall over you, an umbrella shielding you from a brightness you couldn’t stand to be seen in. You harshly wipe your falling tears to watch Dabi walk swiftly into the portal, an unlit cigarette of some sort dangling from his patterned lips. Shigaraki steps to it much slower. He stops before he reaches it, twisting subtly to look at you from over his shoulder. He shouldn’t have to say anything more for you to follow, if his assumptions are correct—

They are.

Your first steps are slow but pick up speed quickly, feet nearly throwing you into his right side, at the mouth of the portal to a place described by your thoughts as no return. His eyes widen in delight, a manic grin following as he places the fingers of his left hand onto your head in a semblance of comfort. More than he ever got. His right arm wraps confidently around your waist, absurdly consoling to your rapidly evolving morals and needs.

It allows you to let it all go, though. It tells you someone more capable, more prepared is there. That he sees you and is keeping you alive because you’re useful to him. You can’t seem to care why when the overwhelming realization that such a powerful man saw you as you were, truly were, and still found a profound use for you in a world you were dying in takes a strong hold. You’re practically weightless as he guides you into the inky blackness of his caretaker’s portal, mind clicking into place and recognizing the distinct choice you’re making with a calm acceptance of this development in your life.

You were a useless hero. Perhaps this is your chance to prove you could make a difference to someone as a villain.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! :) hope you enjoyed~ happy birthday, Shigster! maann I wish he'd take me away ;w; drop of a hat, I'm gone lol. the ultimate escapism... yandere!Shigaraki! xD annyway, I hope you have a wonderful day~ <3

[ikuzeminna]

Scene Analysis - Heero’s Farewell

AKA The Helmet Scene

This is one of the most famous scenes in the entire series. And it’s certainly one of the most interesting as well, thanks to a number of factors. We have a mood change, we have Heero finally fulfilling his promise to Relena to bid her farewell, we have a clear picture of how their relationship has evolved throughout the series, we have a retcon of the previous episode to make this scene work and a million other things, frankly. So, let’s get to dissecting it.

First, the setup. The previous two episodes, episode 46 and 47, present us with a Heero who, in my opinion, acts a lot like during the beginning of the series. It may just be me, but he comes off as rather brusque. Sure, he and Relena may be throwing compliments at each other, but there is a curtness to his tone and the ordering around (”You’ll stay here with me”) that annoy me personally. When Relena initially asks him if he came for her he even deflects, claiming that Noin and the others are worried about her. Sure.

Again, I don’t like it.

If I had to guess, I’d say Ikeda’s intention of not making their relationship romantic but keeping it symbolic paired with being unable to write normal teenager relationships is at play here. I’m putting the blame on him since he is the director, but I may be wrong, so sorry if I am. In any case, the farewell between Heero and Relena is just a loaded glance. They don’t speak, there is a huge distance between them, they just look at each other meaningfully and then Heero gets ready to fight. It’s pretty much Earth and Space, ever at a distance, yet bound by ...uh, something.

Come episode 48, the other writers apparently bound and gagged Ikeda, locked him up in a closet and gave us take 2 of the farewell, which the fandom knows as the helmet scene. And it really shows that someone else was in charge during the last two episodes because we suddenly have the most gentle, most tender sounding Heero in the entire series, complete with sparkly eyes and teddy bears.

And this, I like because the point of Heero’s character arc is regaining his humanity. So having him act like in the beginning kinda ruins that. So thank you, person, who made these decisions.

To clarify, episode 47 has Relena in a dark hangar with her helmet in her hands looking up at Heero who is about to board Wing Zero. He then enters the cockpit and closes it. That’s apparently the end of their interaction. Come episode 48 though, the hangar is lit, the helmets are on and the cockpit is wide open for Relena to jump up and talk to Heero one last time.

And here we see the aforementioned mood change. Gone is Heero’s brusque tone and his weird reluctance to admit any kind of fondness or affection. Instead, he freaking pulls her in during the conversation, because an inch from your face is the ideal distance when speaking to a person apparently. And not just that; he is softly smiling at her the whole time and instead of making it an order, he gently asks her to let him go.

I trust everyone can see how glaringly different this is from their interaction in the previous two episodes.

And there is so much more still. In their conversation Heero reveals his newly made promise to protect Relena (and the Earth Sphere). This goes aaaall the way back to Cinq, where he initially told Quatre he didn’t see much sense in fighting for Relena or her country. Through the various events, he did end up protecting her though, then he was forced to attempt to assassinate her again as Chief Representative of Romefeller and now we are at the point where the peace Relena promises, or at least wants to fight for, is something that Heero believes in.

This is so important for his character because he was the guy who would spout stuff like peace only being the result of war and not believing in it. This is also the lesson he later tries to make Wufei see in their fight in Endless Waltz. Heero is not a soldier anymore at that point; he has become a normal kid who belongs to and wishes for a peaceful world. So yeah, very important moment here.

It really makes me wonder why anyone thought the loaded stare of ep. 47 was enough.

Even more so because here Heero finally fulfills the promise he made Relena back in Cinq: he bids her farewell before leaving. Back in Cinq, and frankly, in all their previous interactions, Heero would just up and leave without a word. It started in episode 6, it happened in 10 and again in Cinq when he went on the suicide mission to Luxembourg. And Relena didn’t even ask anything special of him. She just wanted him to let her know when he’d leave. She didn’t demand a reason, she didn’t want to give him permission, it was just a simple goodbye she wanted.

Yet, Heero does all of the above when they talk. He tells her why he leaves to fight, he asks her to let him go and when she refuses, thinking he is intending to kill himself again for the billionth time, Heero shines even more light on his character development by telling her to believe in him. He isn’t trying to die on the battlefield.

Heero pushes Relena out of the cockpit at this point and gives her a look that honestly creeps me out a little even to this day, as the cockpit closes and he maneuvers Wing Zero into position to take off. Relena, placated by his plea and stare, says the she does believe in him.

And then, because he may not plan to die but is prepared to do so nonetheless if it can bring peace, he actually holds up his end of the promise and tells her that which she previously wished to hear. And it’s wonderful, because he really shouldn’t have.

See, at this point Relena has witnessed and heard of seven attempts and brushes with death of Heero’s. On the beach, at the harbor, falling down the side of the hospital, blowing himself up with his Gundam, asking the Noventas to kill him, nearly getting slaughtered by Zechs and then later by the mobile dolls in Luxembourg, this girl has seen a lot with him. So it’s a very reasonable assumption of hers to think he would do the same thing again here and throw his life away. Which is why Heero has to assure her that’s not his intention.

But because he knows the risks, he knows this might be the last time they talk, so he kinda chickens out a bit there after that bold “believe in me” and bids her farewell nonetheless, just to be on the safe side, I assume. Because he later also tells her not to worry over him since his life isn’t worth much anyway.

And while getting her wish of hearing a goodbye should normally make her happy, Relena freaks here. Here he is, a friend she has known for a long time and who means a lot to her, as he was what gave her the strength to carry on after her father died, sounding like he isn’t going to return. And Relena is heartbroken because Heero is important to her. The parallels to her father show us how much Heero’s death would affect her.

Her crying out Heero’s name in that agonized manner isn’t meant to be taken romantically. This is a girl fearing her friend will die.

I really love this entire scene because it not only gives us heaps of character development and normal human interaction, which those two sorely lack, it also brings a bunch of stuff full circle, illustrates their personalities well and makes for another interesting break from traditions.

What I mean with the last point is that normally (or at least in the 90s), the guy is all business when he has to go out and fight, being all stoically manly about it, while the woman will be emotional and initiate one final time of intimacy, and the guy may respond before going off to battle. I have this overblown image of Chuck Norris, Steven Seagal, Clint Eastwood type of flicks in my head. You know, the manly stuff.

And here we have Gundam Wing, where Relena doesn’t even care about herself or her feelings for him, but instead is only concerned about Heero’s well-being. Which is why I would have totally bought Relena’s feelings for Heero being purely platonic had Endless Waltz with that super tender caress not happened.

Which also portrays her natural selflessness, in contrast to Heero’s credo of living life acting on your emotions. And boy does he act. He is very much cranking up the romance here with how close he pulls her to him and how very tenderly he speaks to her. Ship it or not, it’s obvious here he likes her. Which in turn tints all their previous interactions.

Ikeda might have wanted a purely symbolic relationship between them, but the geniuses behind this episode ruined that. They gave us Heero displaying his feelings for her, which in turn made all that came before a massive slow burn of sorts.

Hah.

This is something I find highly amusing personally. If you removed the helmet scene and that caress from Endless Waltz, I wouldn’t see it. But those two scenes are enough to make me believe there are feelings there and it’s amazing to see how little it takes to make me change my mind. Then again, Gundam Wing is big on subtlety so this is practically on par with screaming it from the rooftops.

But still, thank you. Thank you writers for inserting this scene and generally giving us two amazing final episodes. You hit all the right marks in my book.

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Nineteen

Previous Chapter Here

Warnings: Language. Frustrations.

Notes: I hope this reads OK and that you enjoy it. My ability to check spellings and grammar has waned slightly so do let me know if there’s some glaringly obvious issues with syntax. 

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

Chapter Nineteen

Chris reluctantly left the house after Scott had gathered their things. Scott had a quiet word with his mother just outside the front door but it wasn’t fully closed so Chris had heard most of what sounded like Scott denying he knew anything had been going on. The words “Godforsaken” and “mess” also made brief appearances. A few swearwords here and there from his own mother no less, someone who would go to church every day for a year if she even deigned to use the extremely bad language in front of her children. 

He felt like a scolded child standing there in the hallway, coat hanging limply from one hand, blatantly and frustratingly sober. Not that being drunk would have made any of this any better. He felt like a child that had to be collected from school after getting into a fight with a teammate. Oh, the disappointed looks he had seen whilst growing up. Sitting in the backseat of the car, blocking out the noise as his Dad tried to keep his eyes on the road ahead while lecturing Chris that one day he would have to grow up. 

He wished he could go back there. That was far easier by comparison. Performing open-heart surgery was far easier by comparison. Probably, he figured. 

He glanced towards the dining room. The door was shut but he knew she was mere feet away from him. He couldn’t hear anything. Didn’t know if anything was being said or if anyone was crying or if someone was hugging someone else but he figured not. You could expect to hear Shanna’s voice from anywhere in the house so the quiet he was listening to now was a huge giveaway. It was also alarming that Shanna was as quiet as she was. He had left them both sat at the table. Just…paused. 

He reached his own home an hour or so later. Scott had insisted on coming with Chris even though he had asked the driver to divert via Scott’s road, about fifteen minutes out of the way. They’d sat in the backseat in silence, Scott comfortable, almost smug, in the knowledge that Chris wasn’t about to say anything incriminating lest the driver be listening in on their conversation and it end up online in the morning. So, after what felt like an eternity had passed by, Chris grudgingly asked the driver to carry on to his own address. 

He stared out of the window the entire ride home. He barely moved. Every few minutes Scott would subtly lean in just to check he was still breathing. Chris shoved a couple of hundred-dollar bills at the driver and told him to keep it - probably the only worthwhile thing he had done that week, he thought. Scott trailed behind him as they ascended the wide, concrete stairwell, the only light coming from the security light glowing above Chris’ front door. 

“Just…don’t say a fuckin’ word, OK?” Chris pressed his brother, reaching inside the fridge for the last beer he knew was hiding in the back. 

Scott rested his hands on his hips as he watched his brother flip the lid off his beer and launch it at the wall tiles above the sink. Chris took a long swig before slamming the bottle down on the counter and leaned on his arms. 

“I’m not gonna lecture you, man.” Scott flopped down on the sofa nearest to him. “I promise. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you did anything wrong per se but you know as well as I do that you did not handle that well tonight, pal. No way did Shanna deserve that. None of us deserved to hear it like that.” 

Chris tilted his head ever so slightly in Scott’s direction but he remained stoically quiet. 

“Maybe give it a day or two and try to speak to her.” Scott continued, as though he was reading his mind. And because he was adept at reading his brother’s mind… “I’m talking about Sarah by the way. I don’t know what Shanna will say or do. This weekend sure is gonna be fuuun.” 

Chris looked through the window in front of him, the black night allowing him to catch a clear reflection of his brother picking at the corners of a cushion where he was sat. If he focussed on that long enough, he’d start to feel regret and he couldn’t face that right now. 

“Sarah didn’t even look at me.” He finally spoke, softly and with resignation in his tone. “I thought she might say something but…guess I was wrong.” 

“Her and Shan are tight.” Scott started. “You don’t need me to tell you that. And that’s not to say that you don’t mean anything to her because obviously you do but just that they have been friends for years now. A fling isn’t gonna get in the way of that.” 

“It wasn’t a fling.” 

“OK, but in the grand scheme of things, of time, it was. A few weeks is nothing to nearly a third of a life. They live together, they’re in each other’s pockets 24/7. They know everything about each other. They share the same clothes even.” Scott was hit with a realisation. “They’re family.” 

“I’ve known Sarah just as long.” Chris objected. 

“Right, but I don’t think that’s entirely comparable, though, is it?” Scott was treading carefully. “I mean, we have all known Sarah a long time. But that’s because of Shanna. They’re kind of a package thing.” 

Chris ground his teeth together as he considered the point. Even from this distance and in the reflection of the glass, Scott could see his jaw clench ever so slightly. 

He watched Chris finish what was left of his beer before finally turning around and leaning back against the counter. Building up the courage to continue probing him for answers, Scott repositioned himself on the sofa. “So, Sarah ended it?” 

Chris nodded slowly. “Yeh. A couple of times.” 

“’Cos of Shanna?” 

“Pretty much. Said she was feeling guilty and confused about things. That it was wrong of us to let things get that far.” 

“How did you guys…? I mean, when did you…?” 

“My birthday.” 

Vague memories started fighting for attention in Scott’s mind. He loosely recalled Chris being a little off but a hazy mix of noise, a phone argument with Zach, and copious amounts of alcohol kind of killed his full recollection of that night, at least beyond the separate moments now appearing in his head. 

“But you didn’t leave the party, did you?” 

Chris nodded slowly. He could see Scott trying to piece things together like he was solving a puzzle and was feeling somewhat relieved at getting to talk openly about what had happened. He still didn’t feel willing to give up much beyond what was necessary but he couldn’t deny he was beginning to feel a little lighter. He wasn’t sure if Sarah would appreciate things being made so public but then again, that boat had long since sailed. 

“Sarah never showed, though, did she? I know Shanna tried to call her a couple of times, before she crashed and burned. So, you went to their apartment? Did she call you or something?” 

“No.” Chris shook his head. “I was wound up about a couple of things that night and she said she was gonna come but she didn’t show and…I don’t know. I guess it was the last straw. I was just tired of a lot of things and needed to get out of there. You saw the place. It wasn’t home home.” 

“And you slipped out when no one was looking?” 

Chris nodded again. Much like Scott, memories came flooding back to him. Unhelpful memories. Memories of the hallway and of her in her black dress. Memories of the smell of her hair that he couldn’t forget for days afterwards.

“Look,” He ambled into the lounge where Scott was sat and perched on the end of the armchair. “We tried to ignore it. Believe me, she was pretty sure it wasn’t something we should be doing again. But-” 

“-But you didn’t wanna end it?” 

He shook his head equally as slowly before biting the inside of his cheek. His eyes had glazed over slightly and Scott didn’t know if that was because of the beer or because he was reliving sad memories he’d rather forget. 

“Are you guys…? Do you have feelings for each other?” 

“I don’t know if ‘feelings’ is the right word.” Chris felt his shoulders slump a little. “I think we’ve gone a little beyond that but I’m not exactly sure what that is. We never really talked about it.” 

Scott knew all too well what Chris could be like when he was pining for someone. He’d witnessed pretty much every romantic cliché while they were growing up; girls he liked that didn’t like him back; girls that liked him back that he ended up growing bored of; girls his friends tried to set him up with just as his career was taking off. He seemed to develop a bit of a thicker skin when he reached L.A. soon afterwards. It was almost like he was protecting himself or guarding himself from the fake-ness he’d heard about. Matt had been quite instrumental in that regard. The recent issues with Jenny told Scott that perhaps there were a few skeletons in his closet people remained unaware of. 

Still, being in the presence of him as he was right now was, dare he say it, kind of sweet. Clearly, he hadn’t cut himself off completely from love. The maudlin quality he was exhibiting was almost a relief were it not for him looking as drained as he did. Chris didn’t feel things lightly. There was clearly something serious going on with him. Maybe with them both. He wondered what Sarah was currently doing and briefly contemplated sending her a message to check-in, make sure she was OK. Then, all of a sudden, and he didn’t exactly know where this had come from, a realisation hit. 

 “Do you think that, whatever it was between you, was because in some small part it felt a little bit…wrong?” 

 Chris looked at him, his brow furrowing as he tried to work out Scott’s angle. “What?” 

 “Because it was, y’know, a risk getting involved with each other. Do you think that was the initial attraction?” 

 “No!” Chris caught the scepticism in Scott’s face from even this distance. “It wasn’t, OK? That’s ridiculous. It wasn’t like that at all.” 

 “I’m just asking. I’m just trying to understand is all. I want to help.” 

 “Then listen to what I am saying.” 

 “But you’re not saying anything. That’s why I am having to ask these ridiculous questions.” Scott realised he was close to shouting and that was likely to shut his brother off in self-defence. 

 Chris knew his brother was right but didn’t want to admit it to his face just yet. “Why would the risk be an attraction?” 

 Scott considered biting his tongue and playing dumb but he felt like it needed to be explicitly asked and then it was over and done with. Out in the open. “Just that this isn’t the first time you’ve enjoyed something you know you shouldn’t. Sort of. I mean, look at Jenny. And that sound designer from New York, from that play you did. She had a boyfriend and a mortgage and, like, five cats and look what happened there. You have to admit, you have some form here.” 

 Chris’ face was registering blank and Scott wasn’t sure if he was about to have a knife thrown at his head. Might as well carry on, then. “Sometimes, it can seem like you actively look for the challenge, for the rush of being caught out doing something not Captain America-y.” 

 “That’s bullshit.” 

 “Is it, though? Can you say whole-heartedly that this thing with Sarah wasn’t about a rush of doing something you knew deep down wasn’t the best idea?” 

 “Yes.” 

 “How?” 

 “Because…” 

 “That’s not an answer.” 

 “It’s-” Chris paused again, unsure of how to unscramble the words and the memories now running through his mind. Thoughts of them together here, the elation he felt when she replied to a text message and when she tried to flirt with him, badly. How cute she looked in her scrubs. He remembered making her laugh so hard in the hotel room in New York that she snorted juice through her nose and slammed the bathroom door shut so he couldn’t see how “gross” she looked. “-it’s different. This is different now. It just is. I’m not asking you to understand this, I just need you to be on my side for a bit. At least until things calm down and we can figure it all out.” 

 “We as in…?” Scott pursed his lips. “I hate to be the one to break it to you but I think you might have to wait some time for that. Sarah’s gonna be fully focussed on Shanna, her best friend, and you’re just gonna have to deal with being second best.” 

 “She’ll talk to me, I’m sure.” 

 “I dunno, man…” 

 “Why? Why do you say that?” Chris asked almost accusing Scott of knowing more than he did, which was ironic. 

 “Well…has she messaged you?” 

 “No, obviously. ‘Cos it’s all…” He held his hands up in front of him before resigning them back down by his sides. “Then I guess I’ll just have to wait.” 

 * 

 Needless to say, Sarah didn’t stay the night in Lisa’s home either. 

 She waited until she was sure Chris had left before building up some courage to get up and run. It was cowardly, yes, but nothing about what had taken place this evening – or for the past couple of months – was anything but cowardly, so… why break the habit of a lifetime? 

 Shanna had already left the dining room. She looked and felt tired and needed a lie-down. Carly and Michael had escaped upstairs, too, most probably just to get out of the way. Sarah knew it would be futile to try and talk to Shanna now anyway. If she was in her position, she wouldn’t want to talk either. Too much alcohol, too much food, too much…distress. It would only be asking for more trouble at this point. 

 Lisa was tidying away some dishes when Sarah emerged behind her in the kitchen, ready to go. 

 “I have an Uber coming in a few minutes so I’ll get out of your hair.” She informed her. Lisa wiped her hands dry on the dish towel. 

 “How are you feeling, love?” She offered. Sarah could have burst into tears at the simple gesture. 

 “Um, well, not great.” She started, hearing her voice trembling slightly. “But that’s my own fault. For what it’s worth, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry to you and I know this is a mess and has probably ruined your whole birthday now.” 

 Lisa smiled at her, somewhat sympathetically. “Don’t worry about that. I only enjoy it because it feels like one of only a few times in a year that we are all together and focussed on something fun.” 

 “You didn’t deserve this, Lisa.” 

 “That’s not your fault, sweetheart. It’s the fault of that boy.” She sounded like she was making a jovial comment to lighten the mood but it only served to make Sarah feel worse. Even after everything, Lisa was still trying to make sure she was feeling OK. After everything she had done. “He’s frustrating. He has always suffered from having too much energy, too many thoughts running around his mind at the same time. You tell him one thing and he wants to do something else.” 

 That sounded familiar. 

 “You know, when he was a child, I thought he had ADD?” Lisa looked to the ceiling to try and remember. “They did a test in school but it didn’t turn into anything. I often think it’s why I’m so glad he does what he does. It’s probably a good outlet for him. Helps him work through that energy and anxiety. But I’m sure you know this already. You know what he can be like.” 

 Lisa regarded Sarah for a second. Sarah’s eyes were still wet from crying a little. That, and tiredness. 

 “You know, I had a feeling something wasn’t…normal. He seemed different lately. A little calmer, I think? More still.” Lisa started. “A few weeks ago, he asked me about flowers. He’s never bought flowers for people before except if he was apologising for something but these weren’t those kinds of flowers. He said he wanted something bright and colourful. I was kinda taken aback to be honest.” 

 Sarah looked confused. Had Chris told her something? 

 “Then I saw you got flowers. Bright, colourful, summery flowers…” She smiled at the memory. “I shoulda known then, I guess.” 

 “Lisa, I-” 

 “-Oh no, don’t worry, my darling. I just couldn’t quite fit the pieces together at the time.” She smiled again, tilting her head to one side. “And you know he’s never been one for oversharing the intricacies of his relationships at the best of times. That ship sailed a long time ago for me.” 

 Sarah nodded, looking down at her fingers poking out from the coat cuffs. 

 “But he always makes an effort when it counts.” She encouraged Sarah to look at her again. “He has his ways of letting people know he cares. You should remember that, honey.” 

 Sarah considered her words for a moment. She heard a door close upstairs, snapping her out of the relative peace they were now in. 

 “What should I do about…Shan?” 

 “Leave her for a while. Leave her to me.” Lisa spoke with kindness, some kind of confidence. Sarah was less sure but she knew she couldn’t face her right now. Shanna wouldn’t want to do anything now. It was mutually beneficial. 

 * 

 She made it home without crying in the back of the cab. 

She shut the front door and let out the longest breath she could manage, one she’d been holding in for some time it felt like. There was just a numbness now. A feeling like it wasn’t altogether real, like she could wake up at any minute and find out it was that morning all over again and she’d have to hurry Shanna out of the bathroom. 

 The flat was eerily quiet, itself unaware of the drama. She moved to close the curtains in the living room to block out the street lights. There was a headache looming she wasn’t in the mood for. She sat on the end of the sofa and rested her head in her hands. 

 Somewhere in her coat, her phone buzzed. Gingerly taking the phone from her pocket, she was relieved when she saw it was Audrey messaging her about some paperwork she’d cleared up for the both of them. Hope you’re having a lovely break! xx, Audrey ended the message with. 

 Sarah 10.15pm: All good, thanks hun x 

 A blatant lie but what else could she do in the circumstances? 

She turned to lie down on the sofa and stared at the wall ahead of her. 

 She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep until the light starting coming through the curtains. Noticing the clock flash on the TV screen told her she’d been out for six hours more or less. Useless sleep, though. Not the refreshing kind. The headache was back with a vengeance so she shuffled into the bathroom in an effort to find something to take the edge off. 

 No messages appeared on her phone yet. She was both thankful and surprised and then upset when she realised Shanna hadn’t attempted to communicate during the night. She wasn’t realistically expecting anything but it would have been a positive sign. Right now, she’d take anything she could get her hands on even if it wasn’t pleasant. 

 The sound of the doorbell ringing abruptly stung the backs of her eyes. She downed the water in the glass and listened to it ring again just as she shuffled towards their front door. 

A third time ringing just as she reached for the doorknob and was faced with a rather sheepish-looking Chris. He had two large coffee cups in one hand and what looked like some kind of pastry box in the other. 

For some insane reason, she was suddenly aware of the state she probably looked. She hadn’t removed the make-up from her eyes and her mascara wasn’t the best quality and was probably now working its way down her cheeks. Audrey would be rolling her eyes if she could see her now. 

 He half-smiled but didn’t say anything. He brushed past her and placed the box down on the kitchen counter. She felt like she could appreciate something sweet and sugary and looked inside only to find pretty much every pastry she could imagine. Giving him a puzzled look, he shrugged it off. 

 “I didn’t know which one you wanted so I got everything they had.” 

 Oh. Okay then. 

 “The coffee has a lot of sugar in it by the way. I figured you’d prefer it sweet.” 

 She nodded and turned back to choose something. The apricot glaze looked particularly appealing. She took a bite, taking about half of it in one go and froze as she saw him smirk at her. Yet again, the image of what she must look like appeared in her mind. Dishevelled, smudged, kind of ugly. He, in turn, looked pretty amazing. There was a tiny amount of gel in his hair but otherwise he’d kept it a little fluffy on top. His skin looked remarkably refreshed and he smelled like the shower she so desperately needed. She was also getting the full effect of his recent training schedule as he leaned casually against the doorframe, one leg bent at the knee to rest his foot on the wall behind him. 

 How? 

 How was that possible? 

 Why was he not looking as rough as she felt? 

 “You sleep any?” He finally asked, his voice a little croaky. 

 Sarah shook her head so slowly he could have missed it. She nervously wiped the pastry flakes from her fingers with one of the napkins she found at the bottom of the box. 

 “Yeh, me neither.” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to call you but Scott hid my phone.” 

 He didn’t intend for that to be funny but she enjoyed the brief respite that image gave her nonetheless. And the foul language that probably left Chris’ mouth. Poor Scott. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t to be honest.” 

 She took a sip of the coffee and marvelled at how delicious it tasted. The heat entering her body was welcomed. Her headache was still there but the syrupy, sugary caffeine was very much appreciated. She could sense him looking at her intently. He couldn’t have expected any other response. 

 “I didn’t realise you’d left Mom’s.” It was almost a question but she didn’t respond. “I thought you would have stayed and spoke to Shanna or something.” 

 “I think I am the last person she wants to speak to right now.” 

 “Nah, I’m pretty sure that’s me.” 

 He hated how sad she looked. He hated that she looked so beat and gray and fragile. He was so used to seeing her with clear skin and a spark in her eyes, with some kind of energy bristling beneath the surface. He hated that he was most probably – no, definitely – the cause for this despondency. 

 He ambled to the table, dragging a chair out from underneath it and sitting down. He clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward. He always seemed to have a habit of getting into her eyeline when she was so obviously trying to avoid looking at him and it annoyed her. Times when she was trying to hide her real thoughts and feelings. 

 “I don’t know what to say to you.” He finally spoke. “’cept that I’m just sorry. I’m so sorry, Sarah. I can’t say I am sorry for saying what I said but I know I am sorry about the way I said it, and for the pain it’s caused.” 

 “It’s a bit too late for that now.” 

 He looked down at where his hands connected. “I don’t really know what I was thinking. I saw how she was behaving and it just got to me. It annoyed me how she just kind of takes advantage of you and-” 

 Sarah shook her head defensively. “You’re making the wrong assumption.” 

 “I don’t think I am.” He shook his head back at her. “And if you ask the others, I think they’d agree with me.” 

 “You’re acting like this is all her fault and that’s not fair on her.” She pressed, the caffeine clearly kicking in a little more and making her feel like she was finally waking up, figuratively as well as physically. “She’s not gatekeeping me, Chris, and you really need to stop thinking that she is. You’re just putting the blame on her because you can’t seem to admit that we really shouldn’t have let things get as far as they did. It was stupid of us.” 

 “That’s bullshit.” 

 “Is it?” She stared him out for a second. 

He didn’t blink. “Yes.” 

 “You seem very sure of yourself.”

“Hmm. Irritating, isn’t it?” He tilted his head to the side, a smirk crossing his soft features. Sarah rolled her eyes at him and turned around to regard the pastries again. In for a penny and all that. 

 “Look, I understand how you’re feeling-” 

 “-No, you really don’t-” 

 “-I do because I know the same people and with all due respect I’ve known them a hell of a lot longer than you have.” He countered. “So, believe me, I get it.” 

 She fell quiet and took a bite from a star-shaped cronut-type thing before regretting her decision. Chris, noticing the look of disgust on her face, laughed.

 “I was keeping that one for me. It’s got a custard cream in the middle.” 

 Sarah paused her chewing and gave him an apologetic look of sorts. She watched as he slowly got up from the table and stalked towards her, taking the cronut from her hand and taking a big bite. He rolled his eyes in pleasure at the sweetness. It was probably the first “nice” thing he’d been able to enjoy since his training began again. 

 “That’s another reason I know this is all bullshit.” He said, his mouth full and taking her in in what must have been the closest proximity they’d been in for a while. 

 “What is?” 

 “You’re nervous. I can feel it.” 

 “I’m not nervous. I’m…tired and my best friend hates my guts. This whole thing is a complete mess and I don’t appreciate your…” She waved her hand up and down, vaguely gesturing in his direction. “…jovial manner. It’s pissing me off so stop it. Everything’s different now and you can’t just magically make everything better.” 

 His face turned serious as he took in her slightly standoffish body language and harsh tone. She wasn’t one for letting her frustration get the best of her but the fact she had now should have told him something. She was trying her hardest to look anywhere but at him. 

 “Some things haven’t changed, Sarah.” He said, quietly, aiming for reassurance but landing somewhere nearer to pleading. “The way I feel about you hasn’t changed. If anything, I think it’s made me more sure.” 

 “How do you figure that?” She folded her arms in a weak attempt at creating a barrier between them lest he realise he was getting to her. 

 “Because I’m here and not there.” He shrugged. “I could have panicked and gone to my Mom but I didn’t.” 

 They briefly looked at each other and he thought he could see some semblance of understanding in her eyes but she was certainly trying her hardest not to show it. 

 “I came here because I want to be here and I’m tired of hiding that fact.” 

 “I don’t think it’ll make things easier if they knew you were here. Does Scott even know you’re here?” She asked. 

 “No. Not that I know of. I just left.” He admitted it like it was no big deal. “Anyway, stop trying to change the subject. We need to figure this out, Sarah. You and me. We need to figure out where we go from here.” 

 “We don’t go anywhere, Chris. That’s the thing.” She finally got some words out. “I mean, you just…told her. Like it was nothing. Like you were surprised that she would be just a little bit upset about this.” 

 “I know…” It was all he could say. He was trying to think of something else to add, something reassuring, but his mind had gone blank and even though she had make-up smudged across her eyes, she looked prettier than he’d seen her before. 

 “I keep thinking the worst is over with now but I don’t think any of this will feel better.” 

 “Right now it might seem like that but it’ll be OK, I promise. It just takes some time and then we’ll figure it out. We’ll be OK.” 

 “No. Just stop promising things, Chris. You’re just making it harder. You can’t fix this. This whole thing is our mistake and no one else’s. It was only ever gonna end up one way and we were just delaying the inevitable.” 

 “Before what?” 

 She took another sip of the coffee. “What?” 

 “You said “the inevitable”. The inevitable before what?” 

 “I…” Her eyes moved around the room as she tried to think of a response. “It’s just a figure of speech. I guess I just meant that it wasn’t like this was gonna carry on forever.” 

 “Why not?” 

 “Because, it’s…What do you mean “why not”? What did you think was gonna happen?” 

She was growing frustrated with his persistence and her inability to think of a rational answer because deep down, she knew what he was hinting at and it was exasperating how easily he managed to back her into a corner. 

 “Look,” she sighed, holding her hands up in front of her as though she was trying to calm him down. He didn’t seem in the least bit perturbed by what she saying. “It was a thing that happened and we shouldn’t have carried on the way that we did. We’re practically family and it would have made everyone around us feel awkward.” 

 “They would have learned to deal with it.” 

 “No, they wouldn’t. It would be weird and it would have changed the dynamic of us all and…it’d be like if Scott started dating Josh.” 

 “I don’t need that image, thanks.” 

 “Well, there you go.” Was this a win? She’d made a point. It should have felt like a win but she wasn’t sure. “There’s some lines you just don’t cross. We’ve known each other too long and if things didn’t work out, it would be shit for everyone especially me because it’s not like they’ll stop talking to you.” 

 He pondered what she had just said and watched her slide into the nearest chair. He watched her run her fingers over the smooth wood and finally realised the anxiety that had been building up for the last few months. All of the thoughts and worries she’d been hiding were slowly coming to the surface. 

 “It’s not all about Shanna, is it?” He quietly prodded. “It’s everyone else as well. You feel like you’ve got more to lose.” 

 “She’s my best friend. She’s the best one I’ve ever had.” She stated. She started picking at the corner of a fingernail as he looked across at her. “I know you can’t understand what it’s like and I can’t really explain it. And I’m sorry for that, I am, but…” 

 “I wanna know, Sarah. This affects me as well. I need to understand this.” 

 They looked at each other and he took the silent invitation to sit down beside her. He could have brushed his hand over her leg, he was sat so close, but one thing at a time. 

 “Talk to me.” He leaned in a little bit more. “Please.” 

 “She made a big deal out of getting to know me when we were in college. I was like this quiet, weird, introverted person that seemed aloof to most people but she made the effort. She’d picked me out and put me in the middle of things like she was showing me off or something. Like, she was proud to know me and…I liked that. That felt nice. Reassuring. I really liked how loud and alert she seemed to be all the time because I wasn’t like that. I didn’t have that kind of confidence. I guess it was the first time I felt OK with myself because she made the effort with me so I must be reasonably alright as a person, right? She picked me to be her friend because she wanted to get to know me.” 

 She looked down at her hands and blinked back a few tears. “It was probably the first time I felt wanted.” 

 “Your parents want you, Sarah.” 

 “They didn’t choose me, though. Not really.” She shook her head, sniffling a little more obviously now but she didn’t much care. “They wanted a child and they were given me.” 

 She was right; he wasn’t able to understand. Not completely. He’d never suffered from a lack of confidence in that regard. He knew his friends, he knew his family, and he always knew where he wanted to be. It wasn’t something he even had to ask himself. 

But Sarah did, and Shanna must have felt like that, too. At one time. Scott was right; they were one and the same. 

 “I want you.” He offered, finally reaching a hand out to her only to feel sad that she didn’t flinch, didn’t give him some encouragement that he was having an effect on her. That it wasn’t all futile. 

 She looked into his eyes. She appreciated the sentiment more than she thought she would, sitting at odds in her kitchen, him with his half-puppy-dog expression slowly melting the ring of steel she’d tried to place around herself in the vain hope it might help her cope. If she wasn’t careful, this conversation could lead them both into trouble again and she guessed that was what he meant when he said he knew she was talking bullshit. 

 She moved away and he watched her pace a little before finally opting for the relative safety on the opposite side of the room, the furthest possible point away from him. He hated that he couldn’t get to her, that she wouldn’t allow him to at least try and make things a little better. 

She ran her hands through her hair, resting them on the top of her head, pulling at the strands. He had never seen her like this. 

 “I mean it. I want you so badly, Sarah, it’s ridiculous. If you only knew…” 

 “It’s not gonna work.” She responded. 

 “You don’t think this is worth it?” 

 “I don’t think it’s enough.” 

 Something in his chest fell to his stomach. He swallowed and looked back down at his hands. This was probably what Scott had tried to warn him about. He should have at least tried to listen, tried to think of the worst outcome so he could have prepared himself. But nothing could have prepared him for whatever it was he was feeling now. 

 “I’m so sorry, Chris.” Sarah offered. “You’re so lovely, truly. The fact that you’re here now is, well, it means a lot to me. I hope you can understand that. I’m not saying it for the sake of it, I promise.” 

 Chris nodded, feeling tears sting his eyes again. 

 “But we need to think about her. We both need to make it right with her.” 

 Chris nodded again. 

 “I think your Mom said she was going to talk to Shanna, so…you should probably head that way.” 

 “What are you going to do?” 

 “I’m just gonna hang here for a little bit. I don’t particularly want to go back into work, I don’t think I could face the questions.” She chuckled awkwardly. “Plus, I think I wanna take a sleeping pill and knock myself out for a bit.” 

 “I don’t wanna go, Sarah.” He pleaded. “And I really don’t believe you want me to go either.” 

 “I know. I don’t what else I can do.” 

For the first time, she knew she was definitely lying to him. 

*

[neeterloveschenford]

Thoughts on RNM 3x09

Ok y’all, here we go. Finally we are an official couple! Malex for the win!! (Other things happened, but ya know. Priorities.) I was very happy overall with the progress our boys have made. And as much as I’ve enjoyed this season, I’m glad we’ve had a bit of a time jump. Even if I think it’s only been a few days. I was pretty sure that Kyle and Max would already be up and about. It would have taken too much of an episode to deal with bringing Max out of the pod and Kyle waking up from his coma. Do I feel a little short changed? Yeah. But I get it. There’s only 13 episodes and there is a lot that we have to get to before the finale. So on that note, I’m gonna dive right in. Care to join me?

You go Nora with your badass self killing all those clones. (I mean harsh, but hopefully they were just vessels and had no consciousness to speak of.) And Jones being his crazy dictator self killing that scientist was super harsh. And can we for the love of God get Lucky away from him!?!?!?! He is the goodest boi! He deserves better.

Go on science Liz. I don’t understand half of what she said, but I believe it. And I love how badass she is when she sciences. And there we get our first glimpse of Malex goodness, “Me and Alex are working on the Lockhart machine.” Because of course they are. Because their brilliance only intensifies when they work together. Loved Isobel’s gross face when Liz talks about Noah’s spores. And here’s where we get the Heath story taking off. Max is not gonna like this one!

Ok, Deep Sky doctor lady. I really dig your hair, but do you know who you’re talking to here? Kyle is the premiere alien doctor on this planet. He probably knows more about weird biology than you’ll ever learn. Listen to my boy! And Kyle honey, you are completely justified in your righteous indignation. And you are correct in that no one is more qualified in top-secret ET shenanigans than you baby. (I really need to figure out how to use that line in real life. It’s like the best thing he’s ever said.) I still don’t know whether or not to trust Eduardo. I want to, but I’m still not sure what he’s all about.

I love how dedicated Isobel is. She’s downright obsessed and I love this side of her. And her cockblocking Delmanes was so funny all episode. I also really love that Greg is fully involved now. The Pod Squad needs all the allies they can get at this point.

That phone call almost made me cry. They look so incredibly happy to just be together. I knew as soon as Alex said he wouldn’t forget their date that it wouldn’t happen, but still. Just the fact that they are both ready for that step is amazing. They have both grown so much. I’m just so happy to see them so happy. It was truly amazing. And I agree with Michael. Alex needs to talk codey more often!

It was totally cute that Max had a get Liz playlist, but does he know what the song The Way is about? It’s not exactly romantic.

Heath, you’re in trouble now!

Delmanes are so cute! Isobel is so adorable when she is flustered by a pretty girl!. I will admit though, that I really wish Anatsa hadn’t slept with Max. I mean these guys tend to be a little too close sometimes. But, you know, that seems to be the way this show is going to roll. Blame it on Carina’s lingering messes from the last two seasons and move on.

Of course Alex would manifest Nora. Despite his growth, he still has a lot of guilt over her death and his father’s role in it. I love that Michael is his focus. Alex’s love for Michael will always be the guiding factor in everything he does. He wants more than anything to make sure that Michael has a good life. And I think he’s finally learned that his presence in Michael’s life is what makes it good. I love these two dumbos! (said lovingly) They make me so happy!!

Come on Max. Tell Liz how you not only kept her tapes, but you would listen to them in the desert while crying and missing her! These two are the real dumbos in this show. (said not so lovingly)

I love how powerful Isobel’s become. And that was way cool the way she pulled that pod out of the lake. I’ve really loved her journey this season. And Maria was right, that camp was really beautiful.

I just don’t know if we can trust Eduardo yet! He says all the right things, but he just seems too good to be true! I hope my misgivings are wrong. I really want Kyle and Alex both to have someone who will be a good father figure. They both deserve it.

You know what would have been an awesome twist? If Jesse had shown up when Alex saw the project shepherd tech in Nora’s machine.

I love how Michael just wants to take care of Alex. Lovingly breaking into his boyfriend’s house. What a romantic.

You know what Maria? Get it girl! I think Delmanes is both sexy and adorable. I am ok with them being together!

I love that Kyle is so determined to do the right thing. He has really grown to care about all the aliens. He just wants to do the right thing and I love him for it. He is proving every day that he is the best member of the Valenti family. I’m so proud of my baby boy!

And now we’re getting down to business with Echo. They both have made mistakes and they both have admitted as such, but it still surprises me that Liz cannot see why Max is so scared of his secrets getting out. (Am I really taking Max’s side in something? What is wrong with this picture?) Also, she is so determined to believe the best of Heath that she doesn’t want to see what’s glaringly obvious. I saw this coming like five episodes ago. Just saying.

If Vlamis doesn’t make that shirt part of his next merch drop, I will scream. I would wear the heck out of that shirt! And Eduardo’s face when Michael is standing in his office was the best! And bragging about how smart his boo is! Michael just adores his brilliant hacker boyfriend!

Admittedly, yoda Maria is getting a little old. But I am glad that Maria and Isobel are friends now. They really compliment each other so well. And I loved how Isobel took drinks out of Greg’s hand all ep.

My sweet Alex! I love him so much. Pushing himself so hard to try to help Michael. It’s all about Michael. His capacity to love is so huge. And then Michaell comes to the rescue. He’s always got him. That’s the kind of grand declaration that we need in our lives. The way that Alex grabbed onto Michael’s shirt was everything. They just bring so much joy to my soul.

Isobel and Anaste are cute, but my Kybel heart still beats strong. Also, I still think she’s an alien or something. I have decided to just not trust anyone new.

Michael listening to Alex, comforting him, and admitting he’s had the same fears was beautiful. I love how strong he is now. He’s really putting himself out there to be there for the people that matter the most. And that Sander’s story was so sweet. Of course that would be the perfect date for these two. And the fact that they worked together perfectly to take out the evil PS part and put the machine back together the way it was meant to be was such a great metaphor for their relationship. I can’t believe we are getting so much goodness right now. We are truly blessed.

Still making me take Max’s side Liz. You really are letting me down. Oh wait, helping Michael be less Michael. Yep, Max made me remember why I hate him. Never mind.

So Dallas is an alien. (At least somebody new is!) Not who I thought it would be though. And since we saw him in one of the s4 bts pics, then we know he’s probably sticking around. I am intrigued. And now we know what Heath’s been up to. I guess he’s supposed to be a not so bad guy since he’s trying to help his best friend. But you hurt my Kyle dude. There’s really no coming back from that.

I am still pleased with 99% of this season. We’re coming down to the wire now. I just hope for more and more goodness with every episode. Even if we have to have another episode without Alex, I am expecting there to be some mentions of him by Michael. This season has made me so so happy. I can’t believe we are living in a time when Malex is together and building a beautiful relationship that will stand the test of time. We are a blessed people. And I cannot wait for more! Till next time guys!!

[dangan-meme-palace]

Kaede had so much potential to be a great protagonist. The first thing that really got me invested on her is that she is flawed and she recognizes that and tries to do better unlike SOME people. I relly liked that instead of pretending she didn't do anything wrong, Kaede owned up to her mistake and apolagized to everyone. I think she would have been a great influence on the others characters, especially on Shuichi and maybe even on Maki helping them slowly improve wo forcing them like Kaito

Oh boy this is gonna be my least popular take ever haha

I don't agree but I don't disagree?

It's not like she'd be worse or whatever, but I don't think that she would be the amazing, show-stopping protagonist that everyone hypes her up to be either, and that she would be better off dead as horrible as that sounds.

I understand that Shuichi went downhill after Chapter 1 and was a major disappointment because of his whole character arc with Kaito that made him dumb and never learn a single lesson but I dont feel as though Kaede would do any better or that Kaede would have been able to escape the writers' wrath if she had been intended to live.

Basically there are two or three major problems with Kaede becoming a full-time protagonist instead of dying:

She has limited room to develop because she only has two major traits (being pushy and believing in people) to work with, traits that don't work well with the established writing style of dragging things out for way too long, and if the second problem was avoided then she would have had to develop into a different character entirely which I doubt fans would have been happy with.

Also if she didn't become the blackened and have that moral greyness going for her and if she hadn't gone against her own philosophy of "we won't kill each other" in such a cool, satisfying way I would have literally 0 reason to be interested in her, personally. Not a huge problem for most, but for me it's critical to my enjoyment of her character.

Anyway, the first and second problem are problems that stem from the writers. Kaede as we know her wasn't made with the idea of having her live for a long time, so having traits to develop for a long time just wasn't important to making her and I promise you that it would Show if she had survived.

The V3 writing team really loved to stretch out Shuichi's flaw of not having confidence, to the point where even when he gained confidence and learned a lesson in one chapter he would lose it and forget the lesson in the next just for the sake of stretching out his arc, making him seem inconsistent and lowering his overall quality, and I guarantee if Kaede had been left alive they would've done the same thing to her. This is incredibly Bad News not just because she would be as grating as Shuichi, but because her flaws Need to be Solidly worked on and can't be waffled around like Shuichi's.

Kaede's specific flaw of being very stubborn would have to be stretched out, you see, so that moment you liked where Kaede owned up to her shit? She would immediately go back on her word and clash with the group again in a long, tedious cycle throughout the game just like Shuichi. This is awful because Shuichi's flaw was never something he needed to be sorry for, it's not something that affected other people, but Kaede's flaw would definitely affect the group because that's what it does inherently and that's what it Did in the game.

What good is an apology to someone if you keep doing the thing you said you wouldn't do? But that's how things would have to be if she were the protagonist because the writers were obsessed with it even though it was ruining Shuichi.

Personally speaking, if Kaede had apologized for negatively affecting the group only to keep doing the thing that negatively affected the group over and over again I would have hated her. It's just not satisfying to watch a character continuously fuck up and never truly learn their lesson despite how glaringly obvious it is that they need to work on their shit for the sake of the people around them. It's the reason I hated Kaito's character and it would be the reason I'd hate Kaede.

Especially because of what is the most probable source of her stubborn clashing with the cast, her Only Other Trait: her stubborn belief that no one would kill each other during the killing game. Oh my god it would be a nightmare, I'm telling you.

If we keep having her believe in everyone despite the obvious, effectively making her as braindead as Kaito—

And let me just say that we really don't need another Kaito, especially when the cast eventually starts acting just like him, we need the opposite of Kaito, like Maki in Chapter 1 or Kokichi or Rantaro.

— then it would be really disappointing because having Kaede become Kaito 2.0 would make no sense. It didn't make sense when Kaito did it and it wouldn't make any sense for Kaede to do it either. In fact it might be worse.

Kaito is a big dumbass, so at the very least we would expect him to be dumb, but Kaede is actually somewhat intelligent (despite falling for the despair road trap like a looney toons character) so seeing her keep denying the situation and all common sense, making her seem dumber and dumber, would be so frustrating to see.

And if she didn't do that, if she accepted the reality that her belief in people turned out to be wrong as the bodies kept piling up, I think she would become an entirely different character with a much more hopeless arc, and unfortunately this would be more realistic than the previous option.

It's literally the only logical conclusion to her No, We Won't Kill mentality because it would be proven to her Over and Over again through each chapter that Yes, They Will Kill and it would have to wear her down eventually because unlike Kaito, Kaede actually has a fucking brain and can't deny the reality and the situation forever, unless the writers made her as dumb as a rock as with the previous hypothetical, which I really wouldn't forgive them for.

This isn't even me just making it up either, it happens in the canon story when Monokuma gives out the first motive and Kaede yells something about no one killing each other with a nervous face and Monokuma says that he doesn't need her Lies, meaning she was already doubting everyone. If it was already getting to her Before the murders, she would have gotten so much worse after the bodies started hitting the floor and that would lead to development, just not anything positive.

The only way for her established character to realistically play out would be for Kaede to have a character arc about learning to Not believe in people, which would change her character entirely (because her whole character is about believing in people and forcing them to cooperate with each other) and also just be super depressing. At least Shuichi's poorly written arc ended on a hopeful note, meanwhile Kaede would have to learn to doubt and distrust others.

So even if she had lived, she would end up becoming a different character than the Kaede fans fell in love with and end up becoming as dissatisfying as Shuichi (although in a different way) unless you're really into depressing stories about characters losing faith in others, in which case it would be great, for all five of you.

If you're not fully convinced that this would change her character (in a debatably horrible way), imagine Kaito going through the same arc as the one above– it's hard to imagine, right? Because the concept of believing in people is thoroughly baked into his character to the point that to change it would mean to make him a completely different person and scrap his old personality unsatisfactorily.

All of this to say:

I don't think that Kaede would have been any better off as a protagonist than Shuichi was. She was written into a futile corner since the moment she was conceived by the writing team and she was better off dead, if only for the fact that she was saved from the writers by dying off too quickly for them to ruin her.

At least if she's dead I can have good memories of her character and think of my own ideas for her, y'know? If they ruin her, she's ruined for good and we can't go back.