#her feelings towards perception and herself are still very very strained in such a way where im honestly not sure what itll end up being

[trainingdummyrabbit]

HAI HELLOO!!!!! :DD saw that reblog and was ecstatic about this opportunity so maybe 6,9 and 14 with cocoa?,, :3

HAI HII HAIII!!! :D :D yayayea iam!! doing my best out here boss!!! get silly stay silly ^w^7 YIP

6. How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

honestly? its Pretty Fucking Difficult. shes much like a mule in that case-- you're going to have an Astounding amount of difficulty getting her to do anything she doesnt want to. earlygame, her 'compass' is simply Whatever Whoever's In Charge Tells Her To Do, and she very rarely has any problem with that. even if she did, it wouldnt really change that much. on the surface, at least. (a large buildup of these sorts of things are honestly a big catalyst to The Problem to begin with-- she fights with herself as a default, but having that added layer of Conflict makes things a Lot worse.) postcanon though, she is Significantly more independent, and will Absolutely make her displeasure known if you try to strongarm her into doing something she doesnt want. her 'morality' can vary, she simply does whatever she needs to, but being made to do something that goes against her will is an easy way to get her to mentally tag out again. she doesnt take to it as peacefully as before, though.

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

OK . SO. some of these i mightve already placed down n some i havent but ur gonna get em again ok ? ok <33 girlies who r Normal.

(amygdala's ragdoll - ghost)

([ ] - [ ])

(and also this one but i cant quite pick a lyric ur just gonna have t trust me)

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

augh. ok. this ones hard because honestly.. she never really considers Herself for anything at all. she just straight up doesn't see herself as an individual-- she's pretty much entirely Function. other agents pretty much unanimously see her as That One Guy That Just Kinda Walks Around, That Weird One. they dont really pay her much mind otherwise. she doesnt really have the mind to care. postcanon she has a bit more to her, but its still kind of the main pin in her character that shes only just starting to be able to be Conscious again, and filling those gaps is Not fucking easy. she's more than content being Just Some Guy to the world at large-- in fact, she'd prefer that. dont look at her. to the rest of the crew though, it's a bit harder. because she certainly stays with them, and they cant make her do anything she doesnt want to, but despite how intertwined they are, she isnt really sure what they are to her; nor what she Wants them to be. they simply Are, and it makes her content enough, so... well. yknow. whatever. tl;dr: Yeah That's A Hurdle They Have To Overcome

[forestlingincorporated]

I wanna talk about Janet Drake

I’m not against exaggeratedly evil versions of Tim’s parents, tbh. It’s fanfiction, if we can depict an Exaggeratedly Good version of Bruce (which we can, and I do, and I love) then we can depict the Drakes as Exaggeratedly Bad. As someone who personally identifies with Tim, and his brand of complicated parental abuse in particular, I find it cathartic to uncomplicate that abuse and rescue him from the Obviously Evil Bad People. 

That said, since much of comics lore is passed down word of mouth, the oral tradition surrounding Tim has developed this idea of Janet as The Worse Parent between her and Jack that was never really present in the comics. We see much LESS of Janet, and we have 20 years worth of comics depicting Jack as a neglectful hotheaded idiot who ultimate does love his son. More importantly, Jack isn’t very much LIKE Tim, so there is a habit to attribute Tim’s traits to his mother... and, as someone who really really identifies with Tim, Tim has... some negative traits. Tim can be a bitch sometimes. He’s fiercely intelligent and sweet and kind, with a strong sense of justice, but he can be cold and judgmental and unthinking - he fights those traits, but he does have them. 

And it is perfectly fine to depict Janet that way. I’ve enjoyed depictions of Cold Calculating Janet Drake, but it’s not the ONLY option, and I want to challenge fans to consider different avenues. Tim could pick up these traits from anywhere: a nanny, Mrs. Mc Ilvaine (”Mrs. Mac”), a teacher, tv, Sherlock Holmes novels, Bruce Wayne himself. Tim is capable of not being like EITHER parent. 

So, what do we KNOW about Janet? (I’ll also touch on Jack, but only in scenes he appears with Janet.) 

When Janet was first introduced she was depicted as a gentle but “modern” woman. This was written in 1989, told by a 13 year old Tim, so this theoretically was meant to take place in 1979. I’m not here to give a lecture on the history of sex discrimination in the united states, but much of the legislation protecting women in the workforce or surrounding women’s bodily autonomy would have been very very new in this initial depiction. 

Here, Janet is shown to be encouraging, emotional, maternal, and projects her own feelings onto Tim. Jack is shown to be slightly sexist, possibly discouraging, but not overbearing. And the artist is shown not to know how to draw children. 

To insert some speculation, I think it’s important to note all the Drakes witnessed a terrible murder/accident that day. I point this out, because this is the last time Jack and Janet are depicted this way. It’s possible they changed as a result of this event specifically. 

However, this is also a story being told by Tim. It’s also possible these events aren’t really “real” at all, and Tim is misremembering what his parents were like as a three-year-old, possibly projecting a more palatable version of his parents into the narrative. This is entirely up to personal interpretation. 

In fact, the Drakes are shown in Legend of the Dark Knight attending Haly’s Circus, and the artist knows what a toddler looks like and they’re depicted as already having a slightly strained relationship. Jack is clearly on the defensive, and Janet seems to be passive-aggressive, though she could just be attempting to explain the situation to her toddler honestly. The intended tone isn’t especially clear. 

I do want to point out, in this depiction, Tim isn’t being carried like he was in the previous one. He’s walking ahead of his parents, which isn’t a terrible horrible crime, but could be dangerous in a crowded place like the circus. Might be a subtle hint to his parents overall neglect. 

Back to A Lonely Place of Dying, in Tim’s memories of the night he discovered Robin and Dick Grayson were the same person at nine-years-old, his parents are home, and watching TV together while Tim played... trucks, idk, in the living room with them. (This is semi-interesting, because you could say “oh, Tim liked vehicle toys as a kid” or you could extrapolate that this is another subtle indication of Jack’s sexism, providing Tim with appropriately “boy toys.” Either interpretation is valid. If Tim was assigned female at birth, would they have been given “girl toys,” or allowed to play with whatever they wanted?) 

This is, to my knowledge, the only panel of the Drakes when Tim is between ages 3 and 13. They’re all together, which might indicate that the Drakes were home more often when Tim was 9, only later going on business trips when Tim was “old enough” but... 

This is Tim’s boarding school when he’s 13. While most boarding schools in the US are for grades 9-12, Tim is clearly not a freshman at age 13; look how much younger the other kids in this panel are. In the US, the youngest you can attend most boarding schools is 7. 

That means Tim could have begun going to boarding school anytime between 7 and 13. He most likely spent all of middle school in boarding school, at least. There are an almost infinite number of possible ways the Drakes handled having a business that required lots of international travel, an archeology hobby, AND a very young child. Janet staying home until Tim was 7, 11, 13, is equally possible as the Drakes having a nanny until 7, 11, 13. Tim just doesn’t talk about that period of his life very much.

(”What about Mrs. Mac?” - it is unclear when Mrs. Mac begins working for the Drakes. We only see her when Jack comes out of his coma. She could either be a long standing staff member, or a recent hire.) 

Note: I’ve seen it said that it’s canon that “According to Tim, when his parents were home, they made a point to try and include him in their activities, bringing him along to events that were normally adults only.” I have never seen this panel, or I don’t remember it, so I cannot confirm, but I also cannot debunk this because... comics. 

By the time Tim is 13, Jack and Janet are away on business trips a lot, with limited communication, and no firm return date. If I’m feeling generous, I’d say it was harder to communicate internationally in 1990 than it is today. If I’m not feeling generous, I’d say the Drakes are extremely wealthy, and international communication was easier than ever before in the 80s and 90s. They’re not even going home to see Tim in a week or two, they’re going home and calling Tim at boarding school in a week or two. 

Even Bruce thinks its weird, though he doesn’t say so to Tim’s face. It’s written almost as if Tim’s parents’ neglect was meant to be a plot point that just got forgotten about. 

Tim’s parents are fighting at this point (their poor assistant), but Janet still goes with Jack on these business trips. And she’s clearly involved in the business, somehow, but the comics never SAY what Janet’s JOB is. We’re told Jack is the exec, but Janet is ONLY ever referred to as Jack’s wife, though they’re later described as the “heads” of the company, plural. 

Just to be clear, this is Jack’s business. There’s a perception that Jack is a bad business man because he and Janet fight over company decisions, and Jack looses the business after Janet dies, but Jack looses the company YEARS after Janet dies, and maintains it for about a year after No Man’s Land at that. We’re not told how Jack looses the business, but he’s got to be doing something right. Janet isn’t necessarily the “real brains” of Drake Industries. 

And I’m not... gonna... touch the... exploitation and racism because... I’m not qualified to do that. But, here’s the panel. The Drakes sure seem exploitative and racist in their business decisions. Someone else can... analyze that with more nuance. 

Regardless how how long they’ve been fighting, when their lives are in danger, the Drakes fall back into a loving husband and wife. Their marriage may be falling apart, but they do care about each other. 

I want to show these panels because it shows that Tim and Jack do have things in common. They’re both level headed in a crisis and can be somewhat cold in their practicality. Janet meanwhile and silent. Jack is later willing rant and rave at their captors, but Janet remains silent. 

That is, until they’re alone, and she finally lets herself fall apart. 

God, Jack can be obnoxious. Janet just looks miserable and resigned. I actually think Tim takes after his parents in this respect in equal measure. Tim can have a temper, but he can also be fairly melancholy and defeatist. 

Jack keeps reminding Janet to be strong and in control, which could be period typical sexism? But Jack seems so practiced and ready with the words of encouragement, and with Tim’s history with depression, I wonder if Janet has an inclination towards it as well. 

As the end approaches, when Jack brings up Tim, Janet seems to have a lot of regret. She talks about “wasting” the good things, and I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to assume she’s talking about time spent with her only child. 

From this point on, Janet is at times spoken of, but not seen. Like here, when Jack says Janet wouldn’t approve of him and Tim being so “far apart.” He says this after he tells him he takes back his threat to send him back to boarding school, which might imply Janet was against the idea of boarding school? Though she obviously lost that argument when she was alive. 

Jack will of course renege on this later, but that’s Jack Drake for you. 

Or here in Tim’s illness induced dream, where he gets everything he wants. Though, since this is a fantasy of Tim’s, where his father and girlfriend are both more accepting and understanding than they are in real life, I would take this depiction of Janet with a grain of salt. 

After loosing Drake Industries, Jack thinks about Janet (though, they call her Catherine/Cathy for some fucking reason) during his depressive episode. And... uh... 

Hallucinates a Valkyrie???? Is this symbolic of suicidal thoughts, or is she... real? Or is he seriously hallucinating? 

Anyway, we’re not here to discuss Jack’s mental state, the fact that he forgot Tim’s birthday, or that concerning “I was going to knock some sense into you but you’re still bigger than me” statement from Tim, we’re here to talk about Janet. And even though this entire arc is about Jack mourning his first wife, they don’t SAY anything about Janet herself at all. I mean, they don’t even get her name right, so I guess what was I expecting. 

Then there’s Origins and Omens, which also doesn’t say anything about Janet, except that Tim’s memory of her is faulty - Janet was poisoned, her assistant Jeremy’s throat was slit on television, but Tim seems to have conflated the death he did see with the death he didn’t. 

The only piece of canon to suggest that Janet might be cold, is Tim compares her to Thalia. And even then, he’s really just saying Janet was protective of him. It’s kind of a scary look to make at your kid, but Bruce does the same thing, so. 

I do want to say... it’s not 100% clear if Tim is even talking about Janet. He could be talking about Dana. Dana was observably protective of Tim, though I don’t think he’s ever called her mom. He PROBABLY means Janet. 

And finally we have Tim visiting his mother’s grave (in a duel Christian/Jewish cemetery, make of that what you will), where Tim says she was “a little religious.”

And that’s it! That is all we know about Janet Drake in New Earth. Hardly the Mom From Hell, but she isn’t perfect. I’d be interested in seeing some alternate depictions of her within the fandom. 

I’m still gonna eat up Terrible Parents From Hell like a starving puppy dog, though. Just some food for creative thought. 

[multi--kpop--fanfics]

(Not) Such A Good Boy

sub!bf!Juyeon x dom!fem!reader (ft. Eric, Kevin and Hyunjae)

genre: smut, slight crack, a bit of fluff towards the end

contains: dom/sub themes, degradation, oral sex (f receiving), marking, biting, spanking, Juyeon is a brat on a choker and a leash, unprotected sex (be safe y’all)

Author’s note: This man right there has been wrecking my existence lately (I blame Kingdom) and this GIF screams sub!Juyeon so yeah, enjoy this filth

“Lee Juyeon, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me”, you scoff under your breath. You have been waiting for the past twenty minutes in the living room, outfit and makeup on point, since you were about to go clubbing with your group of friends. But apparently, your dear boyfriend had lost all sense of time, trying to get ready.

Visibly irritated, you storm to your shared bedroom, your heels angrily clicking on the wooden floor. “Juyeon, I swear to God-” you mutter and stop mid-sentence, only to see your boyfriend leaning on the door, fully dressed and a lop-sided smirk plastered on his handsome face. 

“You called, babe?”, he asks teasingly and before rolling your eyes, you give him an once-over, processing his choice of clothes - a pair of tight black leather pants that were hugging his muscular thighs deliciously, a pair of black combat boots, a cropped black sweater with holes around his clavicles and a black belt-like choker around his neck. He was the epitome of the emo bad boy that all parents hated and all girls craved. 

“Um, what is this?”, you question him with a pointing finger. "That, is my outfit for tonight", Juyeon states, the previous smirk still on his face, "What, you don't like it?". "Isn't it a bit unfair for me to wear not so revealing clothes all while you're dressed as an emo himbo?", you complain and he laughs, "An emo himbo? Wow, you're getting more creative with your descriptions, Y/N. You're right though, it's a sort of questionable outfit". You perk up at his response, hoping he'll change into something more colorful and less hole-adorned, only to be utterly disappointed, as Juyeon reached into the closet only to drape a black leather jacket on top of his broad shoulders. "Now we're good to go", he turns to you and winks with audacity. Brat, you scoff mentally and pick up the keys to unlock the door and finally leave your shared apartment.

"Finally! What the fuck took you so long?!", your friend Eric yells at you, trying to overcome the loud bass of the club speakers. "Your complaints to your friend over there, he was the one who took twenty minutes to get ready", you roll your eyes pointing to Juyeon, who was greeting Hyunjae and Kevin, your other friends. "Yooo, Juyeon, what's up with the collar, bro?", Eric amusingly points out. "It's a choker, you tasteless twat. But what would you know of fashion, since you only know how to wear t-shirts and ripped jeans?", Kevin comments and Juyeon mouths a 'thank you' to him. "Simple is the best, my dear friend. Besides, I've been getting all the girls, unlike you and your snake print jacket", Eric retaliates. "Excuse you, this jacket is a fashion statement!", Kevin bites back, feeling insulted. "Not gonna lie though, it does look like a collar. Will you put him on a leash too, Y/N?", Hyunjae comments in a snarky way, making Eric cringe in disgust. "Hyunjae, please go get some drinks, for God's sake", you reply with a dismissive manner. "Yes ma'am", he rolls his eyes and goes to the bartender.

You turn to Juyeon, who was extremely stiff after Hyunjae's comment. "You okay, baby?", you nudge him softly and he's brought back to reality. "Y-yeah, I'm fine, no worries", Juyeon replies, praying that the loud bass could cover his shaky voice. "Don't listen to Eric and Hyunjae, they have zero fashion sense, bro. I would wear that choker too, looks hella good on you", Kevin adds while pointing to the choker and Juyeon's smile is back on his face, "Thanks, bro, I really appreciate it", he replies with a chirpy tone.

The music suddenly changes into a slower jam and Juyeon smirks devilishly, as he winks at you and walks towards the dance floor. You watched as he starts swaying his hips and shoulders in the most smooth way possible, his half-lidded eyes never leaving yours. Eric and Kevin were whistling and cheering on Juyeon, all while Hyunjae was snorting at their antiques. You were simply lost in the image of your boyfriend dancing like there was no tomorrow. He wasn't just following the rhythm, he was riding it - and boy, was he good at doing so.

In fact, he was so good that he gained the attention of many people in the club. And you were lowkey proud, because that man was yours. However, a certain girl wasn't aware of that - hence why she approached Juyeon and started dancing with him. You were a bit jealous, not gonna lie, but the next moment made your blood fucking boil.

He had the fucking audacity to put his hands on her waist and dance with her - all while looking to you over her shoulder with the most smug expression on his face. That fucker, you mentally curse. This was definitely payback for everything you said before you left the house. You just knew it. You weren't even the jealous or possessive type of girlfriend to begin with.

But you'd be damned if you were to let a random bitch run her hands over your boyfriend.

Hyunjae catches up to your motions and he grabs you by your wrist. "Hyunjae, what the f-" "Shut up and listen to me. Going there and creating a scene will not end up well for you and you will give Juyeon exactly what he wants", he states and his words hit home faster that you expected. "Since when did you become so perceptive?", you raise an eyebrow and he chuckles, "I have my moments too, Y/N". "So, since your brain decided to actually function tonight, do you have any idea?" you ask in defeat and Hyunjae starts pulling you to the dance floor by your hand, leaving Eric and Kevin completely baffled. He then pulls you into his chest and leans in your ear to whisper

"Just dance, Y/N".

A Cheshire cat-like grin spreads on your lips, as you catch up to his ulterior motive and you start dancing with Hyunjae, hoping that Juyeon will notice the two of you. "Don't think too much about it, it will happen naturally", he adds, "You're too stiff, Y/N, just relax and enjoy dancing".

His words actually succeed in making you relax and you sway your hips more comfortably, actually enjoying the slow jams echoing through the club speakers. Under the dim lights, you lock eyes momentarily with Juyeon, who was licking his lips and his gaze was a mix of lust and death glares, the last one directed to Hyunjae. "Told you it would work", he comments, "You owe me this one". "Shut the fuck up, Hyunjae", you spit back and he laughs.

However, his laughter is cut short by a very jealous Juyeon, who has grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Next time I see you dance with Y/N, I'll break your fucking kneecaps", he growls and Hyunjae takes a step back, "She's all yours, bro", he raises his hands in defense and returns to the table. Juyeon then turns to you, his blood still boiling with jealousy, as you watch him with a proud smirk.

"You find this funny, huh? Dancing shamelessly with my friend?", he clenches his jaw. You then thread a finger through his choker and pull him close to your face, making Juyeon gasp. "Funny? No honey, I'm fucking fuming right now, because you decided to act like a brat and put your hands on the first bitch that threw herself on you", you retaliate, your chill facade slipping away. A sickly sweet smile adorns Juyeon's face as he watches every single movement of yours. He lowers his head, his lips hanging mere centimeters over yours and he slyly pokes out his tongue to lick your lips, hissing at the wet feeling.

"You're so fucking hot when you're mad, baby".

That was the last straw.

"Get your stuff, we're going home", you announce and he flashes a toothy grin. "Yes ma'am", he replies almost immediately and you return to your friends' table. "Guys, we'll be leaving now, hope you enjoy the rest of the night!" you announce and Eric looks between Juyeon and you. "Do I want to know what's going on?", he questions and Kevin pats him on the back while shaking his head as in 'no'. You both bid farewell to your friends and you walk out of the club, jogging towards your car. Juyeon whips out the cars keys and he opens the door for you, his gentleman-like gesture a complete contrast to his previous bratty behaviour.

The ride back home feels like it lasted for hours, when in reality, it lasted only ten minutes - maybe it's your sheer desire to fuck your handsome boyfriend to oblivion. By the time you entered your shared apartment, your lips were on Juyeon's neck, your hands roaming his toned body and his arms wrapped around your waist.

"You love acting like a bratty slut, don't you?", you sneer at him and he releases a breathy chuckle. "Yeah, and so do you", he whispers and he trails kisses upon your neck and behind your ear, nibbling your earlobe. "Are you going to punish me for being a bratty slut?".

You thought you came right there and then, 'cause fuck, he is so hot like this.

"Is that what you want? Fine then, you'll get the punishment you deserve, slut", you hiss while gripping Juyeon's jaw, your manicured nails raking his porcelain skin, "Don't say I didn't warn you", you whisper into his ear and he releases one of the lewdest sounds you've ever heard in your life. "God, you're a desperate little bitch, aren't you, Lee Juyeon?", you ask while removing the detachable strap of your bag and clasp it on his choker, creating a make-shift leash. "Only for you, baby", he replies with a sultry voice and half-lidded eyes.

You pull him by the make-shift leash, and you push him onto the couch, where you settle yourself on his lap, his hard cock straining his already tight pants. You remove his shirt, exposing his chiseled body. Wasting no time, you attack his collarbones with your lips, trailing red and purple blotches on his soft skin. You bite the juncture of his neck teasingly and he releases breathy moans, making you chuckle. You grind your clothed core on his bulge, and the sweet friction makes Juyeon mewl again. He tries to reach for your crotch with his hand, but you stop him by pulling the leash, making him gasp.

"No sweetheart, no touching tonight", you chastise him, as you pull back to remove your clothes and his pants, leaving the both of you only in your underwear. Juyeon's bulge is even more evident now, the thin material of his boxers having a wet spot, due to his cock leaking pre-cum. The sight in front of you makes your own wetness pool in your panties - your boyfriend on a leash, his perfectly styled hair now disheveled, his upper torso covered in love bites, his muscular thighs fully spread and his cock straining against his boxers.

"Baby, fuck, please do something", he pleads with bleary eyes. "Lie down for me", you order and he's laid flat on his back with one swift motion, his desperation showing. You remove your underwear and place your naked pussy right in front of his face. He reaches for your thighs with his arms, but you slap them away. "I said, no touching", you say sternly, "But-", "You should have thought twice before touching that bitch with your hands. Now, be a good boy and use your pretty mouth", you demand.

Juyeon pushes his wet tongue into your heat without second thought and he's lapping up your juices like a starved man. You can't help but moan with satisfaction, having him under your control like that gave you a huge adrenaline rush. You raked your nails from his torso to the hem of his boxers, the sensation making him moan and momentarily halt his actions. You slap his left thigh to alert him and his cock twitches, the vibrations of his moans coursing through your body as well. Juyeon now flattens his tongue against your folds with a faster tempo.

"You like it when I spank you, huh? Naughty boy", you smirk and land another slap, this time on his right thigh. Juyeon retaliates by sucking on your clit harshly, making you yelp from pleasure and you feel him smirk against your pussy. You find the leash and tug it, pulling Juyeon's face even closer to your core. "Behave, or you'll sleep without cumming tonight", you warn him and he whines, but resumes his efforts nonetheless. "Good boy, k-keep it u-up", you stutter as you feel your high approach with each passing second. His tongue is alternating between circling your clit and pumping in and out of your hole, the squelching sounds creating a pornographic scene.

You scream as you cum on Juyeon's face, your whole body shaking, as he helps you ride out your orgasm with kitten licks. You pull yourself together and turn around to face him, as he nastily licks his lips to taste your essence. "Sweet like fucking candy", he comments, "Want a taste, baby?". You pull him by the leash and crash your lips on his, tasting yourself, as your tongues dance crazily in a battle of dominance. "You're still acting like a brat, but since you did as I said, maybe you deserve to cum after all", you state and bend down to remove his boxers and free his painfully hard erection.

"Y/N, stop fucking teasing already!", Juyeon whines again and you slap his thigh again, "Where did your manners go, baby?".

"Please, Y/N..."

"Please what?"

"Please use my cock to cum"

"Fuck, such a good boy", you moan and spear yourself onto his hard cock, the sudden stretch tipping between pain and pleasure. You give yourself almost no time to adjust and you start riding Juyeon like a mad woman. He pistons his hips in unison, pounding into you with a speed neither of your brains are able to register. You put your hands on his broad chest for support and he holds your hips with his hands so tight you might get bruises the next day. Neither of you are able to contain your obscene moans nor form coherent sentences, way too lost in pleasure and lust.

"Fuck, Juyeon, you're such a good boy, so good for me", "Only for you Y/N, shit- only yours", he groans and his hips start to falter, signaling his upcoming orgasm. "I-I'm close again, nngh..", you mewl as you feel your insides clench around his cock like a vice. "M-Me too, Y/N please let me cum, let me f-fill you up baby", "Oh God, yes, fill me with your cum, babe", you moan loudly.

Juyeon moans with you as he stills himself, his cock twitching uncontrollably and flooding your cunt with his hot cum, painting your insides white. You collapse on top of him, panting heavily, the both of you sweating and spent, laughing breathlessly. You muster all the strength you have left in you to remove the choker from Juyeon's neck.

"Oof, thank you baby", he nods, rubbing his neck softly. You swipe a few dark strands of his forehead. You notice the marks on his neck the choker left and you can't help but feel a little regretful. "Did I hurt you?", you ask sheepishly and Juyeon smiles softly and presses a kiss on your nose. "No baby, you were perfect. We should do this more often, actually. You look hella sexy when you take control", he teases and you playfully smack his chest.

"So you intend to dance with random girls in clubs?", you ask and Juyeon smirks,

"No, but I intend to be not such a good boy for you".

[hb-writes]

Like the Leaves

Summary: Set in the Little Lady Blinder universe in 1914. In the wake of Greta’s passing, Tommy’s little sister offers him some comfort.

Featuring: Tommy Shelby, Clara Shelby, Greta Jurossi (mentioned)

Clara had been awake for close to an hour, woken in the middle of the night by an unexplainable bit of strain clenching her chest, a distinct tugging and compression somehow working at her heart at the very same time. She’d experienced it before, a slight twinge, a bit of tenderness she’d come to understand as a warning that something wasn’t quite right.

Finn snored heavily in the bed beside her, not at all noticing his sister’s anxious movement, so Clara knew it was late. And beyond that, silence had settled on the street below and throughout the house, a quiet that only came when the streets of Small Heath emptied and the cool evening wind died down, most people safe at home, tucked away in their warm beds. 

Well, silence had settled. And then Tommy came home, and once he had, there was a slammed door and a burst of short words followed by some stomping up the stairs before the silence returned.

Clara saw a bit of light through the open bedroom door, dim as it filtered down from the room at the end of the hall. Her brother had not stopped at their door on the way to his. It was his passing by without stopping that finally forced Clara up from the bed, spurred to action after close to an hour of looking up to the ceiling with nothing but her thoughts and the strain in her chest to occupy her. Tommy always looked in on them, always checked to be sure they were asleep, and sorted whatever it was keeping them up if they weren’t. 

Tommy’s room was just down the hall, only a few steps, and even at six years old, Clara had already mastered getting there while making the least bit of noise, able to avoid the creakier floorboards even in the limited light. 

She pushed open her brother’s half-closed door without knocking. 

“Just fuck off,” Tommy said at the intrusion, nearly adding on a desperate ‘alright?’. He was unable to in the end, so certain his voice would break on those two extra syllables, the strain already there in the slow but sharp words he’d already said.

Clara shuffled her feet. Most people would have done as he had said, would’ve left Tommy to himself, especially with that tone, those words, but Clara wasn’t most people, and even when her brother frightened her, he didn’t, and the same push and pull active in her chest was working on her feet, nudging her on towards her brother’s anguish while also holding her back from the anger. 

Sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, Tommy hadn’t even bothered to look up, assuming it was Polly coming in to make some attempt at comfort after he’d brushed her off downstairs, but it wasn’t Polly that had come to his door. Polly would have spoken by now, and in the quiet, Tommy found himself missing it, longing for the words and whatever comfort he’d just been so eager to shoo away. He glanced up, prompted by the lack of retreating steps and his sudden yearning, to see Clara, wide-eyed and frozen in the doorway. 

She was used to hearing bad words, and had heard just about every variation of the word “fuck” tumble from her brothers’ mouths, and Ada and Polly’s, too, but Clara wasn’t used to Tommy’s tone or his directing those types of words at her. She stared back at her brother, taking in his red-rimmed eyes and the unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and Tommy felt like in just those three seconds, the kid had seen more of him, and knew more of him, than anyone else ever had. And that was saying something.

Because Tommy usually was himself with his little sister, and gave himself to her more completely than he did to anyone else, aside from maybe Greta, which was a different thing altogether, but there were still things Tommy liked to keep for himself. Grief and pain, for one. A six-year-old had no need to hold any of that for him. Clara would have a whole lifetime to collect her own.

Tommy took a deep breath, guilt seeping into his chest and swirling about with the grief that was already there, stretching him to exhaustion, everything in him tired and weary from holding it together, but the girl at his door, the duty he felt to her, and even the swirling guilt he felt for shouting at her was a reprieve from the grief, a welcome excuse to set even a portion of it aside. 

Tommy set the cigarette down on the nightstand before running a hand over his face and taking another breath to reset himself, clearing his throat to rid his voice of the hurt. 

“What is it, Clara?”

A nightmare, Tommy assumed, or a burning question, some grand moral dilemma his little sister couldn’t stifle or hold until the morning. It wasn’t beyond Clara Shelby to address that type of thing at three am. 

“I don’t know,” she answered, shoulders heaving in a shrug, and she placed her hand over her chest. “You know when something hurts right here and you can’t sleep?” 

“Come ‘ere,” Tommy answered, and Clara crossed the floor on bare feet, allowing him to pull her up onto his lap. 

Tommy slipped off his boots and leaned back against the headboard, taking Clara along with him, her head already resting against his chest by the time he settled.

“You and Finn were sleeping just fine when I got home,” he said, though he hadn’t known for sure, only knowing that the room had been quieter than the stomping of his feet as he’d gone by.

“How do you know?”

“Your door’s on the way to mine.”

“But you didn’t look,” Clara answered. “I was awake.”

“And why’s that?”

Clara shrugged again, absently playing with the buttons on Tommy’s shirt, the gentle cadence of their conversation soothing them both though Clara was still carefully studying her brother, a series of casual glances cast upwards whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. 

Polly was always saying how aware their Clara was, curious and perceptive and persistent just as he had always been. Clara and Tommy Shelby were far too much of those qualities for their own good was actually the sentiment Polly liked to portray, a bit of an insult wrapped in a compliment, because Polly was proud of her niece and nephew, even though those things were the source of her headaches more often than not. 

Tommy leaned his head back against the wall, looking up to the ceiling as Clara continued with her fiddling. He wouldn’t wish being like him or the depth of his feelings and thoughts and perceptions on anyone, but especially not on the little girl sitting with him now. 

“Is she okay, Tommy?” Clara mumbled.

“Is who okay?” he asked.

“Your Greta.”

Tommy could feel that Clara’s head was still resting against his chest, her fingers picking at his shirt button, so he let a single stubborn tear fall, his face turned towards the door so it didn’t fall on his sister’s head. 

She was uniquely perceptive for such a young child, something which Polly attributed to some wild, roaming heart she was always claiming for the two of them, but it still surprised Tommy when Clara picked up on something she had no business picking up on.

He hadn’t told her Greta was sick, had barely spoken of it to anyone except Polly, but he figured Clara had overheard something. She and Finn were always somewhere they were meant to be, hearing things not intended for their ears, and if she was calling her his Greta, a term of endearment Tommy couldn’t imagine his Clara willingly coming to on her own, she’d heard it first from Polly.

“No, Clara. No, she is not,” Tommy answered after a shaky breath and a pause.

Clara sat herself up, a determined frown on her face, a fresh wetness in her eyes threatening to spill on her face. She reached out and wiped away the tear on her brother’s cheek.

“No more tears, Tommy. She wouldn’t want you to be sad. She’s like the leaves now.”

It was the same sentiment they had repeated to the twins any time they’d asked about their mother’s death, some sentimental words he’d given them about people leaving, like leaves on autumn trees. 

And Tommy hadn’t even told her that Greta had died. 

Clara just knew. 

Eyes closed, Tommy shook his head, more in disbelief than anything else. He hadn’t wanted to smile, didn’t think he’d be able to, but at Clara’s words he couldn’t help himself. 

“You’re a good girl, Clara,” Tommy said. “A good girl who needs to get some rest.”

“But you still hurt?” she asked, resting her hand flat over Tommy’s heart. “Right here?”

Tommy nodded. “That’s why I need you to help me get some rest.”

“To heal the hurt?” 

Tommy nodded. “Can you do that?” he asked, his question rendered unnecessary by the fact that Clara had already gone for the end of the bed, retrieving the blanket left there and pulling it over them both before reaching across him to put out the light.

“You sleep now, Tommy. You need to rest.”

--

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist

--

🏷:

@beautycinders​ @buckybluebarnes @cecii22me @hannahrahan​@lovemissyhoneybee​ @marquelapage​ @midnight-dreams-23​ @mo-onstarrs​ ​@ohhersheybars​ @pollyrepents​ @unicorndetective22 ​

[randomsnakesimp]

Okay. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna take the leap and say: Phobos is the victim (sorta).

Quick disclaimer: I am going to abuse plot holes and cartoon logic for my cause in a very nitpicky way. If you dislike that, I can completely understand, and I hope this warning will save you a lot of reading.

Also, this won't go into just headcanon territory, I'll put those in a separate post. Everything here I'll try to keep based on actual information from the comics and what I made of them.

That said...

Let's take a look at this scene:

(for a quick translation of the important part, the mother says: "No, Phobos, Meridian is meant for your sister. That's the law. The crown is hers.)

What we can see here are a few very important things:

1. Phobos is at most 5 years older than Elyon.

2. The name "Phobos" is not an edgy nickname he gave himself. Five-year-olds don't go around calling themselves Phobos. So his parents, for some reason, gave him that name.

3. His mother is very adamant about him not even touching the crown and reminding him of his sisters' birthright.

So, after establishing what I would call more or less facts, what else can, relatively savely, be deduced here?

- Since Elyon never noticed anything weird about herself, she can't have aged slower than earth children. So neither can Phobos. This would mean that, as she was kidnapped after her mothers death as a baby, he would have been five. So, he either tried his best to rule at age five, or the council we see as Elyon rules stepped in for him for a while

- this would then mean two things: we need an explanation as to why Miriadel, Alborn and Galgheita fled explicitly from Phobos (I'll give my explanation a bit further down) and second, Phobos' reign of terror wasn't even thirteen years, and a lot of that time he was a child/teen and could not even have been mature enough to rule.

- This also means that Kandrakar pulled up the veil when Phobos was at most five, likely younger, and that the so called "Seal of Phobos" also existed at that time, as both the veil and the seal are seen in the flashback depicting Elyons abduction. For Kandrakar, this, too, I will try to explain soon, but as for the seal, I find it most plausible that the theory @ror-witch used in their fanfiction, of the seal being a royal heirloom and named after each ruler, is true.

- His and his mother's relationship was neither as bad as some assumptions go, but neither was it that good, probably, or at least it wasn't in his perception. See how his memory is of her cradling the baby the entire time and talking more about his sisters birthright than about what he has/can do? Yes, it's only a short memory, but I think it's clear that it's a summary of what he remembers of his mother.

- Phobos desire to rule Meridian does not stem from something deeply sinister, but rather from a childish spite. Five year old Phobos probably just wanted the crown cause it looked nice and shiny, and he was fabulous even back then, but after his mothers words, he sulked and decided to show her. That's his motivation.

So, now let's go a bit further and look at some other things we can deduce from the rest of the comics:

- Phobos has a huge dungeon, a wall of roses that turn people into more roses if they touch it and his plan for the annihilation of Meridian is "Well, Cedric and I hide in the castle and...we'll see". He hates the people of Meridian, but he doesn't seem to have it in him to directly attack anyone until Elyon is there and even here, when he has her knocked out in their duel or locked up as Endarno, he isn't unnecessarily cruel. He's not evil in nature, he's more of a very dangerous child throwing tantrums. ( Cedric is kinda similar, and they both start losing it toward the coronation, but I sincerely believe that before that, there would have been a chance for them to come around )

- The only person he ever tortures or even hurts directly is Cedric. Because one, he likes Cedric and so gets more extreme emotions around him, and two, Cedric never says anything, and just plays it of afterwards, so I don't know if he even fully realizes what he's doing, like a child hitting someone. If Cedric ever just said "Stop it, you're hurting me", Phobos would probably need an entire week to process that input.

- Phobos is VERY reclusive, and he doesn't want anyone to have even pictures of him, and while that could be a God complex, I get some highly insecure vibes out of it, in a vulnerable narcissist kinda way, in that he is massively overcompensating. I gotta admit, though, that I cannot put my finger on why, so maybe take this with a grain of salt and decide for yourself if you agree.

- Kandrakar never orders the guardians to help Meridian in any way, just to make sure nothing oozes out. They likely pulled up the veil for their own protection, so Phobos wouldn't be able to spread far enough to become a real danger, rather than to protect innocent people, as clearly the Meridian people mean shit to them

- while the guards are widely feared in Meridian, Cedric seems to be viewed as... not very frightening or important, as some random merchant feels comfortable clinging to his cape (and rightfully so, apparently, as Cedric just tells him to piss off and doesn't care any further). This further leads me to believe that Cedric is rather unhealthy devoted to Phobos and his tantrums while their shitty ass reign leaves a lot of free space for unsuited people to become guards and tyranize the people.

- the King and Queen seem to have died in rapid succession, and shortly after the scene shown above, yet she looks perfectly healthy in that scene.

Now, what do I make of all this?

I believe the line of events to be as follows:

I don't think Phobos traveling back in time is a viable theory for mainly two reasons: I think his mother would be less chill around him if she saw/heard about his reign herself, and I believe that it would have been mentioned somewhere along the way if that were the case. Instead, what I believe happened is that the oracle had a vague vision of Phobos nearly taking over Kandrakar. Deciding in their random mood swings that today was a day of action, they had the people of Meridian informed that the next male born to a queen would become a dangerous tyrant, pulled up a veil and set their guardians to make sure nothing oozed out.

The veil, of course, made the people of Meridian feel trapped and a horror of the unborn prince who would ruin their lives spread.

So, when Weira gave birth to that prince, a full blown panic spread, so much so that she, in a fit of hysterical emotion, named him after that boust of panic. Of course, people tried to kill the prince basically from the moment he was born, and he was met with barely concealed resentment.

Soon after, Weira and her husband died - whether they were killed, or fell ill, or died in an accident, I have no idea, but I wouldn't completely rule out an assassination either aimed at Phobos and accidentally hitting them or the strain making at least one of them fall terminally ill.

Either the people rioted and Phobos' magic panic reaction or the leftover loyal guard was enough to fight them back, or the people succumbed to their fate at this point, slumping into the state of despair seen throughout the comics. But in the end, five year old Phobos had to be handed the throne. I assume the council still had some say at this point, but he did manage to get all pictures of him destroyed - this order was likely due to the fact that they were mostly caricatures.

So he grew up with the very volatile combination of a shitton of power and no one able to tell him if he was being stupid on one hand, and feeling unloved and unwanted on the other. He withdrew, likely also due to countless assassination attempts or things he perceived as such, and went into a negative feedback loop of being unable to mature and take responsibility, therefore being a shit ruler, therefore being hated, therefore having no one to help him, therefore being unable to face and grow from his mistakes, rinse and repeat.

So, Meridian was plunged into chaos, yet he seemed fine more or less just sitting in the new playroom he made for himself in the gardens, sporadically giving out an order or two and having generally no idea about anything that didn't directly concern him.

Enter Elyon. Now, she send him of the rails, as she was a danger to his lifestyle AND a reminder of all the sentiments he'd be drowning in alcohol if he wasn't too much of a recluse and education denier to know of that option. He doesn't even try. He just lets Cedric, the one person he trusts, handle her, like everything else, and somewhat plays along sometimes, when he feels like it. This is where he passes the point of no return and starts actually trying to kill people, culminating in him creating an army to wipe out Meridian. I still believe that even at this point, in his head, what he's doing is just throwing a nice toy out the window just so his sister won't have it.

[batsandbugs]

Help (I Need Somebody) Help

AN: Hey everyone! So I’ve got a new fic, this is inspired from an ask from @glitchon​. They wanted a “Wrong Number Daminette AU”, they gave me a couple of things they wanted to see, and so I went to town. I hope y’all enjoy! Tag list is open, and as always the pictures for the moodboard aren’t mine. 

Chapter 1 

The patter of rain outside Marinette’s window wasn’t keeping her awake, no, the creeping numbness consuming every inch of her body – a craving for oblivion and stimulation all at once – did that on its own.

But the rain certainly wasn’t helping.

On nights like these, where everything was too little and too much, she would find herself escaping to her rooftop balcony and gaze at the stars. Tikki would lie beside her whispering tales of elegance and power; the stories of miraculous holders of long ago fighting against those who would cause the world harm. Her constant companion – a voice of reason when her own brain shouted too loud – was the only reason she was doing as well as she was.

And Marinette knew herself; she wasn’t doing well.

But when the skies covered with clouds, drenching the streets, and blocking the stars it forced her to remain indoors. The hum of electricity, faint but noticeable – a noise she had been unable to ignore ever since donning her miraculous - an irritating background hum. The powers she received when untransformed existed as a blessing and a curse. It without a doubt saved her from one too many klutzy moments, but there were days she missed the ignorance about the nuances of the world around her.

Another moment of strained silence passed before she had enough. She crawled out from under her warmed covers, the cold November night chilling her. Being careful not to disturb the sleeping Kwami, Marinette stuffed her feet into a pair of slippers and descended from her loft bed, and wandered over to her chaise. Crawling under a large knitted blanket – a project from a few years ago - she glanced out her window watching the illuminated rain run down the pane.

The change in location did nothing to help the static in her brain as it wrapped its meticulous tendrils around every train of thought that tried to usher her towards coherence.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to smile.

She wanted to cry.

She wanted to care.

She wanted to feel something, anything, other than the gaping emptiness slowly consuming her.

And yet as the moments ticked by, and the rain continued to patter, nothing came.

Marinette was scared nothing ever would.

A small light flickered in the corner of her eye. She slipped off her chaise and walked over to her desk – her phone alight with a notification.

Well, at least there was the internet to help her escape from the directionless dread snapping at her heels.

Grabbing her phone, she retreated back under her knitted blanket, content to mindlessly scroll until the need for sleep won against her brain. It was a Friday night and with a weekend planned for ignoring online harassment from her classmates and completing piles of homework – and the potential ever-looming presence of an Akuma attack – Marinette felt secure in ignoring sleep.

She unlocked her phone.

And a slight shiver ran down her spine.

Well, it wasn’t exactly a normal shiver. Over the past four years, she had developed a particularly good sense at detecting between a normal physiological reaction, and a magic-induced one. This? This chill was magic.

Her fingers tapped on her messaging app with little input from her. Opening a new message, she typed in a number, seemingly random, but she knew by now each movement was laced with luck. Once finished the push driving her to such measures faded, leaving Marinette with a choice.

Tikki did her best to explain the phenomena several years ago when it first appeared. As Ladybug she tapped into the Strings of the universe, where her powers of creation and luck came from. When dealing with luck she subtly manipulated the flow of events around her. At first, only when transformed, and only able to rise to the surface when calling for her Lucky Charm. Eventually, the manipulation became unconscious but continuously present, unable to be directed, but still there, helping in subtle ways. And on occasion, when she wished hard enough – a little push there and a little shove there – and who knew how many blows it took to break a lamppost, and maybe she had hit it a little harder than normal?

But the older she grew, and the longer she wielded the Miraculous of Luck and Creation, the more powerful she grew outside of her transformations. And, on occasion, unconsciously tapped into the probabilities of the universe. The little nudges caused her to make and take decisions and actions she never would. But every time it did a minor problem would be solved, or an opportunity would arise, or a good thing happened that would make a normal person smile at the universe and comment on how luck favored them today.

Marinette knew better.

It was a side effect of her existence mingling with the powers of the universe. Tikki told her, within time, she would feel for the Strings herself and be able not only to manipulate her own but others’ too.

It was not the first time Marinette experienced a panic attack over her powers, and it certainly would not be the last.

Which brought her to her choice; and suddenly, sitting in her darkened room at two in the morning staring at her phone with a random number on the screen, resembled being perched on top of the Eiffel Tower, feet dangling over the edge, the l’appel du vide – the call of the void – twisted around her, caressing her like a friend and urging her to just… fall.

A random number, a string of electricity running into the darkness, unknown and unknowable. Like shouting into the wind at the beach, the water stretching far as the eye could see, the words would take to the sky and disappear.

Only, a text would go… somewhere.

To… someone.

And they might, just maybe, respond.

A shiver, this time her own, rolled through her.

Marinette glanced up at her loft bed, a small red glow, barely perceptible to the human eye, lingering in the air.

Tikki wouldn’t be pleased.

The tiny Kwami always urged Marinette to caution when it came to taking risks like these. Even the goddess herself had a tough time figuring out where actions prompted from the Strings would lead. And this… this had the potential to go very, very, wrong.

But…

Every time Marinette followed the urgings of the universe, she had never been disappointed. True, its effects could be small, barely noticeable at times, but not always. The effect could be much larger. Marinette was always pleased whatever the outcome.

Even if the responsibility of the rest of the power laid heavier on her shoulders with each passing day.

Everywhere Marinette turned she stood alone. Cut off from her parents by necessity; the overwhelming urge to keep them safe, to keep them out of danger forced her to remain silent and ready lie at the drop of a hat. Cut off from her friends and classmates by manipulation; Lila succeeded in twisting them to her whims – the girl had no mercy to stay her vicious tongue, no morals to limit the stories her mind twisted into being. Cut off from mentorship by a quirk of magic; Master Fu deserved to live the rest of his life without guilt, but for his guiding influence to be taken away meant floundering on what to do next. Cut off even from her own partner; Chat flipped between hot and cold, flirtatious and disinterested, reliable and fickle. The days where they could talk about everything and nothing during evening patrols had faded away into uncomfortable silences.

That left Luka… sweet, sweet Luka.

Marinette sighed.

Holding herself together on a good day was hard enough. What good would she be as a girlfriend? Flighty and closed off, unable to open up, constantly in fear of when Hawkmoth would strike next.

No. She had made the right choice, telling the budding musician they were better off as friends.

Glancing down at her phone, the screen locked once more – a group photo of her, Adrian, Kagami, and Luka lit up behind cracked glass – she smiled, tinged with bittersweetness though it was. At least Adrian, who stuck by her side through it all, found happiness. And Kagami had proven to be a stalwart friend. Marinette still wished now and again for different circumstances, but she would never begrudge two of her closest friends for finding comfort together.

And Tikki, while a constant presence, and a needed voice of reason was still a goddess, a creature unfathomably old. Still sweet, caring, and understanding, but detached from the constant stress and pressures of human existence. She was unable to truly be an outlet for Marinette to confide in.

With everything laid out before her culminating together in a bleak understanding of her isolation, it appeared obvious her actions, driven by the luck of the universe, seemed like sanctioned permission.

She unlocked her phone once more. 

Taking a quick breath, the wind whipping smugly beneath her dangling feet, she began to type.

[slashbitch2]

Wavelength

slight nsfw warning ;)

Eve had always felt that she stood out from those around her. That in every situation, in every group and at every point in her life, she was walking round on an entirely different wavelength. Although, living this way wasn't as direly lonely as it sounded, rather she learnt to appreciate the few and far apart moments with company. When someone would, for just a split second, understand her.

The first person to ever make her feel this way, and regrettably the only for a very long time, was Ted. He'd swept her off her feet and into a less isolated world, a concept so unfamiliar at the time that she'd allowed herself be dragged out to sea. Then there was Brandon, who she was told would change her whole world. And he did, for a while.

Brandon was her life preserver until his priorities changed; until Mother's day cards became Valentines day cards, movie nights were exchanged for house parties and homework for alcohol. But Eve wasn't the kind of mom to act as though this behaviour was unwarranted and abhorrent, so she let him wedge the door shut and clear his search history. She could cope with a little more distance.

Then along came Ted's affair, their crumbling marriage and eventual divorce. Before she knew it, she was drowning.

The all too familiar feeling of solitude reappeared, completely devastating for her when Brandon left for college. However, this time she swore that she wouldn't let it overwhelm her, and did everything possible to prevent herself from sinking. Which initially started with a class at a community college, and ended with her lying in the arms of both her colleague Amanda, and classmate Julian. And yet, after they'd hurriedly packed up their things and left, she felt no better.

Brandon was sitting on the porch when she found him later. His back was turned to her, but the hunched up posture and awkward shuffling said more than enough. In that moment, Eve reverted back to her old way of thinking. She came to the conclusion that she'd failed as a mother, that her mistake was unforgivable despite the years of morose behaviour and selfish demeanour Brandon had subjected her to.

For retribution, she removed Julian's number from her contacts, predicting that he wouldn't be able cope with remaining friends. He too immature, still in that irrational sulky stage of adolescence. Next, she specified to Amanda that what happened was a one time thing, though she was already way ahead of Eve, chatting casually like nothing had taken place that weekend. Her easy-going reaction was a nice break from the prevailing tension with Brandon, which she then mentioned to her friend.

She tried to casually bring the subject up in the same manner that she imagined Amanda would if the roles were reversed, acting like the issue was nothing to do with her.

"As much as I hate to use such an outdated phrase," Her friend said. "boys will be boys. "

Eve chuckled, though the general concern weighing down on her shoulders meant it came out as more of a scoff. "You can say that again."

There's a brief lull in conversation as Eve disinterestedly taps away at her phone while Amanda sips thoughtfully at her coffee. The silence is only invoked by an awareness of social standards, since there's much Eve wants to talk to her friend about, but feels would be inappropriate in public.

Eventually, Amanda's the one to break the silence. "Are you still looking for someone to fill in for Sarah?"

Eve's attention flickered back to the woman sitting opposite. "I am." She replied hesitantly, knowing that she ought to have posted the job advertisement weeks ago, but had forgotten.

"I know someone who'd be good." Amanda was sliding her phone across the table before Eve got the chance to respond.

The screen displayed what she could only assume was a job application, though the font was too small to actually read. Squinting, she picked up the device to try and glean some information about the potential applicant.

Amanda continued as Eve scrolled. "She hasn't worked with seniors before, but has managerial experience."

"Are you sure she'd want this job?" Eve asked apprehensively as she set the phone down. "Seems a little over-qualified to me."

"Yeah, she's serious about it." Amanda's expression grew more determined. "Y/N just moved here. Mentioned she was looking for a more lowkey kind of job."

Eve remained doubtful.

"She's travelled a lot. Had a lot of different jobs." Amanda took another sip of her drink. "But she said she wants to settle down somewhere. Get a job that'll take her to retirement- which was an exaggeration, but you get the gist."

"Well." Eve sighed. "You can't get much closer to retirement than working at a nursing home."

"Exactly. So can I pass on her contact details then?"

"Sure." She shrugged. Assuming that her friend's recommendation was genuinely helpful, then she would be saved from suffering through the tedious interview process, which was worth taking a risk for.

---

As Eve sat at her desk, the world around her faded into obscurity. Without Sarah as the assistant manager, she'd been suffocating under piles of neglected paperwork, only now forcing her way through it. The main thought motivating her was that you were due to arrive any minute, for what she'd described as a first informal interview. The idea of conducting anything more formal this late into the evening was unappealing. So, based on the unusual circumstance by which you'd applied, and the strange time slot reserved, the interview would be more casual.

Finding that her eyes were starting to strain, she granted herself a quick break to look round the office. Eventually she settled on looking out the window, content watching the world pass by. The day had been unexpectedly hot, and some of that humidity still lingered, but judging by the gentle breeze filtering in through a crack in the window, the evening must've started to cool. A soft pink colour filled the sky, darkening to orange where the sun had just set over the horizon. From the other direction, a deep blue had begun to filter into view, the only indication that night was approaching.

When her gaze drifted back to the room, she realised that the pink light was cast around the room, bathing every surface in a delicate glow. How the simple beauty of the evening had previously escaped her attention was a mystery. One that prompted Eve to take a break to admire it.

The break was short-lived, however, as a sharp knock at the door quickly stole her attention away.

"Come in." She called out but found her voice hoarse from disuse. She frantically cleared her throat as the guest entered.

Eve looked up at you and smiled politely, then down at her desk, then did a double take. Although she hadn't given enough thought to form any preconceived image of what you might look like, she certainly hadn't expected someone quite so attractive.

As soon as the label crossed her mind, she was already berating herself for it. You'd barely entered the room and were here for business, she couldn't let herself think of you in that way. It was wrong. Both professionally and morally.

"Evening." Your voice was deep, smooth and with an accent she couldn't distinguish.

Eve tried her best to smile amiably, though she was sure the emotion wasn't reflected in her eyes. Instead she scanned your body from top to bottom, lingering on your neck, and then your hands. The action was automatic. An unintentional response to her attraction- and there it was again. She'd allowed herself to get distracted barely ten seconds later.

"Hi." Eve was too quiet, her tone lacking the necessary command. She swallowed. "Please, take a seat." And smiled, this time more genuinely.

"Thank you."

She watched you stiffly slide into the seat, effortlessly demanding the attention of the entire room. Although Eve had known you for less than a minute, she'd already decided that there was something hypnotic about the way you moved. From the slight twitch in the corner of your lips, to the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Every movement, regardless of it being barely perceptible, had her mesmerized, however she was mostly fixated on your hands. How they couldn't quite settle in your lap, rather were wrung about anxiously until abruptly stilling.

Your hands falling limp dragged Eve back into reality as it dawned on her that she'd been staring for a little longer than appropriate. She literally had to shake herself out of the senseless state and clear her throat once more before she was ready to continue.

"It's nice to meet you." Jolted into reality, she outstretched her hand, which you eagerly met. Your grip was firm, matched with a confident yet humble smile that looked well practiced.

"And you."

Eve already understood how you'd succeeded at accumulating such an impressive employment history, as every second of the interview so far, you'd acted perfectly. Like you'd written the book on 'How to Handle Job Interviews.'

"Just call me Eve." Separating from the handshake, she dismissively waved her hand, unable to hold the eye contact for any longer. There was an inquisitive manner to the way you were watching her, as though you were trying to ascertain the most information possible from appearance alone. Being exposed to your scrutinising glare caused Eve to shift in her seat, though not from discomfort or uneasiness, rather from inadmissible lust.

As the interview progressed, her eyes continued to occasionally stray toward your hands. Despite how hard she was trying to stay focused, she kept catching herself unintentionally imagining how they'd look gripping her waist, pushing apart her thighs. And if she blocked out this particular fantasy, then her attention would shift to your neck, and how she'd love to bite down on the supple skin presented to her.

She'd hoped that her fling with Amanda and Julian would've suppressed her incorrigible longing for pleasure, yet still found her thighs pressing together as her imagination overpowered reason. All the scandalous scenarios flashing through her mind only grew more vivid, more frequent. An incessant stream of borderline pornographic images, which worsened her guilt as she struggled to focus on what you were saying.

The cool breeze from earlier seemed to have vanished, replaced by unbearable humidity. She could feel herself sweating bucket loads, and only flushed more upon realising that she must've looked a mess; with stray hairs framing her face, an inability to sit still and a layer of perspiration covering her entire body. You'd probably noticed by now.

"God it's been hot recently." You commented, playing with the neckline of your shirt.

Had Eve not been observing you so closely, she would've guessed this was general small-talk. But judging on how you'd acted so far, this was a strategically placed act of mercy, a way of excusing her, no doubt, dishevelled appearance.

"Yeah." Eve chuckled, twirling a strand of hair round her finger. "We could move outside." She suggested, then quickly added. "If you wanted to, that is." Her desperation to please you came as a surprise. The roles should've been reversed. You should've been trying to impress her.

Eve had undeniably lost all authority in the situation, which simply excited her further.

---

When Eve laughed, she scrunched up her face and closed her eyes, which was inconvenient even at the best of times. Right now, however, she'd never despised the quirk quite so much.

As inconsequential as the current circumstances would look to any passer-by, she wanted to commit every detail to memory. From the lingering pink hue of dusk, to the way you threw your head back as you laughed. In fact, she wanted to memorise everything about you. Since leaving behind her stuffy office, conversation had flown easily between the two of you, the matter of employment seemingly dropped in place of getting to know one another. You'd indisputably gotten the job. Eve knew it. You knew it. So both were happy to indulge in a lighter tone of conversation.

The topic had turned to worst first date experiences, so she had very few to share with you, though that didn't stop her from enjoying listening to your little anecdotes.

"What about you?" Taking a calming breath after an outburst of laughter, you paused to ask her the dreaded question.

In comparison to your story, her worst date was relatively tame. "Well." She scratched at the corner of her eye, considering whether she could exaggerate in some way. "I went on a date recently that I had to walk out of."

"Really?" You folded your arms, leaning back against the brick wall. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I guess it just didn't feel right." She shook her head, hoping to deter any more questioning.

"Fair enough. Sometimes you just know- right?"

Eve drew her eyes away from being locked on the ground, finally summoning the resolve to look directly back at you. She bit her lip, compelling herself to nod.

There was something about you that was pure ecstasy to her. While looking at you, she could feel herself falling deeper into the hypnotic state she'd been in earlier, unable to tear her eyes away and unwilling to try. In spite of the normality of the situation, it felt meaningful. Eve didn't feel so alone, so out of place. Which made no sense to her as she'd known you for barely over an hour.

"What did you do after?" Your voice was somehow deeper, eyes lidded and posture relaxed. "After the date." You clarified.

The inquiry was personal, even without context that could be inferred. Eve hummed, delaying her response long enough to consider how much she was willing to divulge. "I-" She laughed nervously, suddenly embarrassed to confess. "I went swimming."

"Swimming?" Your eyebrows shot up, amused by the many connotations of her vagueness. "Where?"

Eve scuffed the heel of her shoe against the concrete ground, shamefully incapable of returning the eye contact. "Here." She admitted quietly, grinning as if in disbelief that she'd actually done it.

"Wow. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting that." You took a deep breath, rendered speechless for a second. "So, you have access to the pool?"

Eve shifted restlessly, hesitant to pursue the topic any further. She knew where this was going, and that she shouldn't endorse this type of behaviour. But the heat wasn't helping, and neither was her overactive imagination. She was supposed to be responsible, but then again, so were you.

Inevitably the possibilities of what could be overpowered her better judgement. "Yes." She reached into her pocket, producing the coveted key ring and hanging it on her pointer finger.

Upon glancing up, she discovered you were watching her intently, indisputable lust reflected in your eyes. Eve found herself in one of those rare moments where she felt understood, on the same wavelength as someone else. The logical part of her brain argued that you were basically a stranger. That if she followed through on your shared idea, then your hiring and subsequent job experience would be forever tainted. But the possibilities were too tempting to ignore.

So when you asked. "Want to go swimming?"

She couldn't refuse.

---

You'd held her hand as she'd lead, the reasoning being that most the facility was shrouded in darkness. Though Eve liked the weight of your hand in hers, so she didn't bother to turn the lights on until reaching the pool. Only then did you separate, crouching down to check the temperature. You beamed with childlike joy as you waved your hand around in the water, skimming the surface then diving deeper down.

Eve grinned. Your pure happiness was infectious, the effect it had on her similar to being drunk. She was intoxicated from exhilaration. She would've been content watching you relish in the feeling of water running through your fingers for eternity, though to her dismay, you soon grew bored. And then to her surprise, you unabashedly began to strip. Her eyes were glued to the expanse of your back as you pulled your shirt over your head, and to the revealed skin as you tugged your trousers down.

She had to stop herself from stumbling back as the strange reality of the situation suddenly dawned on her. Instead, she reacted by comically clutching at her heart, clawing the fabric of her own shirt.

You turned to the side, looking at her out of the corner of your eye. "You coming?"

She chewed on her lip, pondering the two words in greater detail. This was you asking for consent, giving a final warning. You were both aware that this was an incredibly outlandish idea, an extremely irresponsible one that should've discouraged Eve. Yet it had the opposite effect.

Before she could overthink the consequences, her shaking hands were clumsily unbuttoning her blouse. At the unspoken confirmation, you smirked back at her, then without warning, threw yourself into the pool. The splash echoed round the room, proceeded by carefree laughter as you resurfaced and began leisurely swimming away from her. While you were busy, Eve took the chance to continue undressing without interference.

Her insecurities didn't emerge until it was too late, resolved moments later as she dove into the pool. The water was colder than she'd anticipated, but her burning desire dulled the intensity. Breaking through the water's surface, she inhaled deeply, grateful for the supply of oxygen. However, her breath was soon stolen from her as she noticed you were treading water directly in front.

Somehow, you looked even more beautiful now. With the wave's reflections dancing across your skin, your hair drenched and dripping. She wanted to chase after the droplets with her tongue, despite knowing she'd likely be met with the bitter taste of chlorine. But what really flustered Eve was the way you were staring at her; the hunger in your eyes that hinted at your intentions.

Your stillness was teasing her, the water practically stagnant around you both. Eve was becoming increasingly irritated, the heat between her legs only growing. So it didn't take long for her to snap. She lunged forward in an attempt to grab hold of you, though her hands couldn't quite clutch onto your slippery skin. She stumbled to the left, floundering around until you grabbed hold of her.

Upon securing her grip, she froze, due to both the sensation of your body pressed up against hers, and her embarrassment. She couldn't bare to look up, to face her awkward failure. After a beat of silence, she heard you laugh lightly. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant or mocking, but she insisted on keeping her eyes locked on the wall. That was, until your lips gently brushed against her ear.

"Were you trying to kiss me or drown me?"

She snorted, the tension leaving her body, then turned to rest her forehead on your shoulder. "The former. Definitely."

You laughed again. This time Eve joined in, happy to ignore what'd just occurred.

"Want to try that again, then?" You kissed just behind her ear, causing a shiver to suffuse across Eve's body. She waited a minute, expecting more before realising you intended for her to make the next move.

She glanced up at your face, fixating on your lips. You were so close. All she had to do was lean forward ever so slightly. One final glance to your lidded eyes confirmed you wanted the same- all she had to do was close the distance.

Taking a shaky breath, Eve shifted a hand up to cup your cheek, her thumb softly stroking your skin. There was no rush; you both wanted the same thing and were eager to revel in the experience. So, when her lips finally grazed against yours, there was no deep sigh or sudden change in pace, rather a blooming warmth in her chest. She was floating, both literally and metaphorically in a sea affection.

She kissed you again, this time with more conviction. Then fell backwards, her feet now comfortably resting on the bottom of the pool, her back hitting the wall as your grip on her waist tightened. You dragged a hand across her chest, causing her to gasp. Your touch was scolding compared to the cool water. A perfect balance between lustful heat and a mind-numbing, all-encompassing chill.

She raised her arms, flinging them around you and exhaling as her impatience reappeared. Though thankfully, you didn't make her wait long. Soon enough, your mouth had latched onto her neck, leaving messy kisses from behind her ear, to down by her shoulders. The feeling was pure bliss, encouraging her to lean into you and press your bodies closer together.

She didn't need to say anything. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing. Like you had her body memorised: every caress was perfectly placed, each touch just what she needed. It didn't take long for Eve to reach her pleasure, although she did spend a while in a dazed state of satisfaction, simply drifting in your arms. Eventually, she regained awareness to feel you tenderly nibbling on her lower lip, and eagerly reciprocated the kiss.

Motivated by the sudden fervour, she switched the positions, pushing you up to the wall.

"Get on the ledge." Eve murmured against your lips. She looped her arms under your thighs, ready to lift once you'd agreed.

Surprised by her abrupt confidence, you quirked an eyebrow, but obeyed nonetheless.

With you sat before her, she knew the evening was only just beginning, and judging by your breathless expression you felt exactly the same. This was one of those rare moments where Eve felt completely understood.

[literateleah]

the paradox of emily prentiss’ audience perception and character design

some of y’all about to be real mad at me, but it must be said:

emily prentiss’ character design makes no sense: my personal opinion + an objective analysis

i think it can be challenging to separate the versions of characters we have in our little brains from actual canon content, but doing so is important for understanding what those characters are truly like, especially within the context of their environment and in contrast to others around them. plus developing a deeper understanding of the media we consume is super fun and interesting! with that being said: emily prentiss should not work for the fbi and here’s why (in three parts regarding who’s responsible: cbs, paget, and fans) (sit down and grab a snack i promise this is over 3k words)

quick disclaimer: i don’t dislike emily at all! that’s my girl, i just looked closer and realized some funky things the writers did and felt the need to analyze her of course: so let’s get into it

part one: what cbs did

cbs set the stage for emily’s introduction on the heels of the departure of lola glaudini as elle greenaway! lola has clarified that she decided to leave the show because filming in los angeles was not the best environment for her personally, and after one successful season on a major network (but not much established long term plot or drama beyond elle’s departure as a character) a consistent ensemble cast was required- particularly because the bau had been criticized for being predominantly male in the first few episodes of the show and not much development was given to penelope or jj yet. enter emily prentiss.

for the duration of seasons 2-3ish, emily was framed as a chip off the block that was elle greenaway, just slightly…richer? in her first few episodes emily was hesitantly polite but ambitious, clean cut, intellectually concise and held her own within the team. she seemed equal parts intimidated and frustrated by her male superiors (gideon, hotch) but certainly proves herself among other profilers. her childhood was explored only within reference to her strained relationship with her mother (which was only ever referenced once more after the fact) and we received a short overview of her educational and career history in her first few episodes. emily fit right into the hole elle had left, and didn’t have many major storylines yet.

seasons 4-6 brought a bit more development and depth to emily’s character! she begins dropping more snarky remarks, one liners, and socially deepening her relationships with the other team members. this seems more within the lines of elle’s design, but emily arguably took more time to grow into her place within the team. during the foyet arc she was vulnerable and supportive, and the doyle arc gave her some independence and agency she didn’t have previously. this era also solidified her appearance and persona as more edgy, which falls in line with general fanon perception of her character (especially when compared to jj or penelope). i can’t address this era or season 7 without mentioning that cbs was actively trying to remove paget from the cast, similar to how they did to aj cook as well. paget has spoken about this instance before, and i believe it slightly affected her portrayal of her character, and “lauren” was somewhat of a goodbye for both paget and emily (thus why she wished for mgg to direct since they were best friends).

season 7: in my opinion, one of the best seasons for emily. she was wisened and deeply wounded by her experiences with doyle, which was understandable of course. she returned to the team she loved and learned to appreciate life in a different way, remaining mature during this time period as well! though her departure was a bit less than graceful and sudden at the end of this season, it made sense compared to some other exits the team had seen.

now *sigh* all the rest.

paget as emily appears in two separate guest appearances (once in s9 and once in s11, and she is referenced offscreen as well) before permanently reprising her role as unit chief of the bau. these appearances were most likely to boost ratings and get the team back together (i.e. 200) or just to pepper in international cases (tribute). emily’s personality remains pretty consistent here, just more mature and comfortable in leadership positions (seeing as she is running an entire branch of an international law enforcement organization). then season 12 hit.

upon the departure of thomas gibson as hotch, cbs reached out to paget to see if she would be interested in fulfilling her role as emily within a longer term unit chief position. i’ll get into why this is wack in a few paragraphs, but the remainder of her time on the show is spent on a mature portrayal that seems very distant from her previous versions. emily is more authoritative, gives orders with ease, and has no qualms about leading a team of agents or even receiving promotion offers as director of the entire bureau.

thus concludes a general summary of the canon content cbs gave us as viewers. now let's talk about what they didn’t give us, regrettably

the primary aspect of emily’s design that comes to mind for many is her queer coding. though not much was to be expected from cbs, a prime time cable tv network, each of her relationships on the show (all with men) seemed oddly forced, and without much chemistry as compared to the SOs of other main characters. rumors of scrapped plotlines have floated around about what may have been, but the ultimate lack of acknowledgement of any queer characters in the main ensemble still leaves a feeling of disappointment to audiences, and leaves more to be desired as for how emily navigates social bonds.

part two (sidebar): what paget did

i think it could be agreed within audiences that paget brewster’s portrayal of emily made the role what it was! her dry witty delivery and emotional prowess combined with sitcom acting experience made her performance a mainstay for years. i think she did the best she could with a confusing and at times flat characterization, and brought the role to life.

paget also heavily contributes to fanon indirectly with her comments outside of the show (press, cameos, twitter etc). her general continued interest and fondness for the role post production affects fan perception, particularly in what she chooses to elevate and comment on. she and aj have both spoken about viewing jemily content, and paget and thomas have both also commented on hotchniss. most cast members feel free to comment on their characters in the appropriate timing, and seem open to discussing fanon ships and theories outside of canon!

part three: what fanon did

as we can tell from this fan space as well as the presence on insta, tik tok and twitter, fans LATCHED onto emily super quickly. she’s remained a favorite over the years, and this fan persistence is what brought her back so many times after leaving (so many times). in my opinion, queer coding and a bolder female trope (in contrast to her female counterparts) are the main pulls because they resonated with so many fans- new and old. with that being said, newer fans of the show in the past year in particular have been heavily influential in fanon, solely because of the large influx of fan content and popularity of it.

fan content began to take coding and bite size moments and snippets from the show as canon, and cemented it into much of the content and discourse they created. these small pieces of emily’s character are significant, but have become magnified by how easily they are to share and edit. for example, a collection of catchy one liners from emily over the seasons makes for a great video edit intro, or gifset! there’s absolutely no problem with this content, it just all combines to create a certain fanon perception no character escapes (this isn’t a phenomenon limited to emily or the cm fandom!)

these droves of content also solidified emily’s personality as much more defined, but at the same time, simplified it in a way that’s slightly harder to explain.

fanon: more emo/goth than canon basis

fanon: more introverted/anti social than canon basis

fanon: more violent/chaotic when canon emily is relatively well mannered and doesn’t start many conflicts (particularly in the workspace)

fanon: much less maternal when canon emily displays desire on multiple occasions (even crossing professional borders) for children, particularly teenage girls (possibly projection)

(again, nothing wrong with this interpretation at all and it still varies! This is just a generalization based on most of the popular content i have seen)

part 4: why it doesn’t work

let me start with this: emily prentiss does not like her job.

we don’t receive much in depth information about emily’s internal feelings and thoughts towards her mother beyond resentment. this stems from wanting to make it on her own, as a professional and as an individual (cough cough college deposits). this makes emily’s insistence on proving herself to authority figures in her earlier seasons is interesting to watch in different circumstances. she cites her experience and denies help from her mother when justifying her placement in the bau to hotch, she is extra vigilant about being helpful on her first case with gideon, etc. nevertheless, emily forges her own path outside of diplomacy and becomes a successful profiler and agent, with the help of her privilege, wealth and name whether she likes it or not. but if we read between the lines and fill in the blanks cbs neglected, these ambitions may subconsciously be oriented towards pleasing her mother.

example one: emily’s authority issues go further than just “rebellion” or “anarchy”, she frequently questions the ethics and sustainability of the work that the bau does. every team member does this, but emily much more so than anybody else.

in “amplification”, emily almost breaks federal protocol to inform civilians of anthrax threats. she butts heads with both hotch and rossi on this front, and ends the episode with having a conversation with rossi about the ethics of lying in their line of work. emily resigns to a solemn “it be like that” and moves along, accepting this reality.

on multiple different occasions emily laments to derek about the darkness she sees on the job, and it’s shown that this gets to her quickly on particularly bad cases. this is another contradiction of the design that she can supposedly “compartmentalize” better than others on the team, when she cannot unless the lives of others are at risk (doyle arc, s7 finale).

emily also responds in this way to many cases involving children, a similarity to jj many don’t notice upon first watching the series. “seven seconds” and “children of the dark” come to mind, during the latter in which emily is prepared to cross multiple professional lines to adopt a teenage girl left orphaned by the case, until hotch stops her and establishes that her emotions can’t rule her judgement on the job. regardless of hotch’s thoughts about her attempted caretaking abilities, these actions and impulses deeply contradict the typical bureaucratic pathways of the work the bau does.

the looming reputation of her mother’s diplomatic history hangs over emily, and after going to law school and working for the cia, she most likely did want to forge her own path as far away from being a socialite: being a spy. her inner nature doesn’t always reflect this profession, and leads me to believe that with her knowledge of psychology, law procedure and care for children: emily prentiss might be more inclined to working in social work, placing suffering children and teenagers in homes they deserve.

and finally, the hill i will die on: emily prentiss was an bad unit chief

this wonderful post touches on my general sentiment, but there were many reasons as to why emily prentiss’ career arc makes little to no sense (plot holes included).

first: her background. emily attended chesapeake bay university as well as yale and achieved a ba in criminal justice. keep in mind that though timelines evidently don’t exist in the cm universe, emily prentiss is ONE YEAR older than aaron hotchner (for context). in her first episode, she professes that she has worked for the bureau for a little under ten years in midwestern offices- something the audience laters knows to not be true. emily worked with the cia and interpol as a part of a profiling team and undercover agent up until roughly TWO YEARS before her canon introduction. plot holes and time gaps aside, this makes me wonder, why didn’t she just say the cia was a backstop without revealing the highly confidential nature of her work with doyle (similar to jj’s state department backstop and cover story)? penelope or hotch could have easily accessed her file and seen that she did not in fact have experience with the bureau in midwestern offices recently, and given the fact that erin strauss set up her bau placement, i’m presuming these formalities or references were overlooked.

second: her experience within the team. emily worked as a part of the bau with the bureau for roughly 6 or 7 years. after this, she is invited to run the entire london branch of interpol, one of the most renowned international law enforcement organizations. i’m surely not the most knowledgeable on requirements or standard timelines for such matters, but with the fact that emily had never led a team in her life (not in the bau or interpol previously) and had roughly 10 years of field experience, i don’t believe she would have ever realistically been considered eligible to run the whole london department.

third: her return to the bureau. fanon depiction of their relationship aside, if you believe aaron hotchner’s last wish before going into witsec was to entrust his team to emily prentiss, you’re dead mistaken. bringing emily back was clearly a pull for ratings after the loss of two main characters (hotch and derek), but logistically a bad decision. let’s suppose emily has had 4 or 5 years of experience in london now, this established authority position would be unlikely to change at the drop of a hat, even for old teammates or friends. also considering how close they were after a decade of working closely in bureaucratic and field contexts, i firmly believe hotch would have referred jj for the job of unit chief but that’s another discussion for another time.

emily’s reign as unit chief is odd, because of the many chaotic storylines crammed into it. but amidst bad writing and viewings plummeting, emily’s character is completely flattened. completely. emily is unrecognizable, both in appearance (that god awful wig) and personality. at times she acts as a complete wise authority, giving orders and delegating local authorities as hotch did. but at other times she makes multiple illegal, emotional, and incorrect judgement calls based on personal circumstances that lead to further chaos (deleting the recording of her and reid’s mexico conversation and reprimanding luke in “luke” for the exact same thing she did in season 6 even though she enabled her to do so come to mind).

i’m not sure if this is due to paget trying to find her footing in the role again, or the writer’s bad decisions towards the end of the show wrecking any previous design for their ensemble. then, there’s the infamous “wheels up” scene in s13e1. notoriously cringey, this seems like a vague caricature of something rossi would say many years in the past (the same goes for her pep talk in “red light” in the hunt for diana reid). these moments are meant to mature emily in the audience’s eye, but instead completely removed her from who we understood her to be, and made her an unreliable leader.

part five: and why it does

in theory, emily was a bolder foil to jj, similar to elle who she arguably replaced at first. she came into her own, and stands as a more uniquely developed character than almost any other in the main ensemble. she isn’t as maternal or domestically inspiring as canon jj, less bright and sunny than penelope, not quite as stoic or intimidating as derek or hotch. And yet at the same time, she’s a fairly blank slate. stripping fanon content away entirely, canon emily has few defining traits (all of which are constantly changing), and that may be the key to why we love her so much.

[t0bey]

plum drop the essay on fuyu/peko and mondo/taka paralelles !!!! i am curious

ask and u shall recieve (inserting my first ever page break because holy FUCK this got long) 

oke! I guess I’ll start off with Peko’s initial conception as a character, which was the main initial comparison danganronpa intended between Peko and Kiyotaka.

I’ve noticed danganronpa has a tendency to re-use character tropes or roles after each game, tho their fates end up differently. For example, Chihiro was the smart, cute, and sweet character who ended up dying early on and had little significance outside of alter ego afterwards. Chiaki is the same, except if Danganronpa took Chihiro’s character and made her one of the main protagonists that has much more significance in the game. 

The staff of SDR2 confirmed that they based Peko off of Kiyotaka, from their intense red eyes (which was intentional) + predominately b&w colorscheme, they both have swords, and their characters are tied to justice, though in different ways. Not to mention both are meant to be extremely disciplined, but ultimately struggle at socializing due to their rough backstories. But that’s where Peko’s ties to Taka as an initial concept end there, because the parallels between Peko/Taka and Fuyuhiko/Mondo are a whole ‘nother ballpark.

Before bringing that up though, we should note that while their designs are significantly different, Mondo and Fuyuhiko are extremely similar in terms of their backstory and personality (down to their ability to curse like a sailor). Both struggle with an inferiority complex (Fuyuhiko w/ how he isn’t taken seriously because of his babyface, Mondo w/ how his self esteem is really fragile and gets jealous of others when he acknowledges them to be stronger than him). Both act like tough, aggressive lone-wolfs (well, Mondo pre-sauna anyways), but have been stated to have a soft side, to the point they doubt their capabilities of being a tough leader because of it. They both even have a sibling they both believe would be a better leader than them (Daiya and Natsumi). BASICALLY fuyuhiko and mondo are the same role, being the intimidating gang leader that no one should fuck with, but in actuality has a lot of insecurities behind that facade. 

Ok, ok, time to the ACTUAL relationship parallel analysis. We now know why Peko/Taka are meant to be parallels, and we can definintely make a solid claim for Fuyuhiko and Mondo. This isn’t new for Danganronpa, in their tendency to use patterns but give them a different twist depending on the game. Which is exactly what happened in  regards to chapter 2 of THH and SDR2, respectively.

The games’ chapter 1s are simple: meant to introduce the characters/game/stakes. Leon and Sayaka’s deaths were tragic, but the emotional impact of them wasn’t the main priority by the writers. Only to show that this was, indeed, a Killing Game where anyone’s possible to die. But chapter 2 of danganronpa is intended to be the chapter where you’re introduced to just how emotional and tragic the games can actually be, meant for maximum heartbreak (for both the characters and the player).

Chapter 2 of THH was where the different students’s relationships between each other became more solid. Sakura and Aoi were good friends. Toko’s obsession for Byakuya first solidified. Hifumi being Celeste’s servant, etc. Taka and Mondo’s fast developed friendship is no different. After the sauna, the two clicked so much that they believed calling each other just a friend wasn’t really accurate, and settled on calling each other brother instead. While they don’t have memories of their close friendship during Hope’s Peak at this time, it’s heavily implied that their closeness during that time made them subconsciously gravitate towards each other so fast, which could also be seen with Sakura and Aoi, and how Chihiro was able to find Makoto familiar during their introduction. 

Peko and Fuyuhiko’s relationship could be considered to be just as close. The two grew up together, quite literally since they were kids. Like Taka and Mondo’s relationship pre-sauna, Fuyuhiko and Peko’s relationship was somewhat strained, though it’s more deeply rooted than two extremely contrasting guys clashing over their perceptions of each other. Fuyuhiko is extremely insecure in his place as the Kuzuruyuu clan’s head, and sees Peko’s desire to protect him and carry out his commands as an unwanted crutch that challenges his desire to be independent, as well as extremely worrying considering how because of this, Peko devalues her own life and worth as a person. Fuyuhiko very much loves Peko as a person, and as such tried to distance himself from her during their time on Jabberwock Island. Though unfortunately, Peko took this as him loathing her in general, further cementing her desire to be his “tool” because if he couldn’t stand being around her, she might as well make herself useful to him.  

Now. Finally to get into the explicit parallels between the relationships of Kiyotaka/Mondo, and Peko/Fuyuhiko. Peko and Taka’s perspective on their relationships is a great starting point. 

Each game’s chapter 2 shows just how willing both Taka and Peko are willing to go in order to protect Mondo and Fuyuhiko. Peko’s motive for killing Mahiru wasn’t to escape, but to in her eyes save Fuyuhiko from the Killing Game, by using herself as his tool to carry out muder, and have everyone incorrectly vote for her so Fuyuhiko could get away. She was his bodyguard in the truest sense of the word. Now in THH’s chapter 2, instead of fighting against Mondo in proving his guilt, you’re fighting Kiyotaka. He refuses any evidence you throw at him, arguing relentlessly to prove Mondo’s innocence, to the point the only reason he stopped was because Mondo told him to. And you later find out, in chapter 3, that Kiyotaka felt so determined to prove Mondo’s innocence was because he felt like it was his responsibility to, as he cared for Mondo so much. 

So, in a way, Taka considers himself Mondo’s bodyguard. Just without the years worth of reinforcement that you’re nothing but a tool to be used which makes you devalue your own worth as a person. (Not that his self esteem and willpower wasn’t ultimately crushed by Mondo’s execution, but that’s only because the circumstances he lost him was undenyingly brutal considering the Killing Game). While the circumstances of Peko’s desire to protect Fuyuhiko are really murky and problematic considering how she was raised, Danganronpa confirmed that she protected him so much because of her care for him, to the point she was willing to sacrifice her own life to assure that Fuyuhiko is safe. And Kiyotaka was willing to go to the exact same drastic measures, by voting for himself. 

It’s also worth noting that in the stage play, he willingly accepted to be punished alongside him by doing this to make sure Mondo doesn’t die alone. 

So from my own understanding, Super Danganronpa 2 took the tragedy of Mondo and Taka’s relationship, and flipped it so that while it still follows its signature use of repetitive patterns, they made the circumstances different, but just as heartbreaking. And how? Because they took the Taka of the relationship, and made Peko the culprit. It’s not the Mondo this time, which is who you’re supposed to expect to be the culprit, because of your expectation from THH’s trial 2. 

Peko tried her best to protect Fuyuhiko, much like Kiyotaka tried to after he recognized the fact Mondo was the blackened. Both were, at the expense of their classmate’s and their own lives, were willing to protect them both, no matter what. Peko took a more active role in trying to do this however, which is what Kiyotaka severely regretted not doing, as stated in chapter 3. 

And Fuyuhiko is what would have happened if Mondo was forced to face the consequences of his actions (in Fuyu’s case, being partially responsible for Mahiru’s death, in Mondo’s case, Chihiro’s). Instead of Taka arguing to prove Mondo’s innocence, it’s Fuyuhiko who’s doing that for Peko. A deliberate use of subverting the pattern given to us by THH’s chapter 2.  

That’s the main takeaway, but I suppose I should also address the romantic parallels while I’m at it. I personally don’t like Kuzupeko as a romantic relationship, mainly because of how Peko’s self worth and personal value of herself as a person was as a direct result from being considered Fuyuhiko’s “tool” and their professional relationship as yakuza leader/henchman. Fuyuhiko does love her as a person, but that doesn’t negate the years of psychological degradation Peko endured to consider herself as a tool. Though in typical Danganronpa fashion, they choose to gloss over the problematic aspects of their relationship while heavily implying romantic subtext between them. So while I can’t say I’m a fan, I know the game/DR3 anime says otherwise. 

And as for Ishimondo, I know some will disagree with me, but I definitely feel that their relationship is heavily lined with romantic subtext as well. Not much is really explicit in the game outside of Ishida and Hifumi’s romantic rivalry for alter ego (who Taka considers Mondo), but the mangas and posters definitely show their relationship that most would consider normal for couples.

But at the end of the day? Both Peko and Taka love Fuyuhiko and Mondo, whether or not you consider both, one, or none of their relationship to be romantic. They wouldn’t have put their own lives on the line if it was anything else. And it’s that emotional connection between Kiyotaka and Mondo, and Peko and Fuyuhiko that’s meant to give you an emotional punch in the gut for THH and SDR2’S chapter 2’s, because of how far the two were willing to protect them.

[chaoticpuff17]

Something Wicked

part 7

masterlist

Warnings: abuse, yandere behavior 

alright my darlings, not my best work, but here’s part 7! I might edit it later! Love you all! and a reminder that if you or a loved one is in an abusive relationship. Please call the emergency hotlines! 

Y/N had never been more terrified in her life. Jin kept her safely tucked away in the penthouse, and much to her horror, he never left. When she’d asked about it, as casually as she could as she found her defiance towards the situation only angered him, he’d smiled and told her that he had taken a leave of absence to spend with her before kissing her forehead and asking what she wanted for lunch.

In the several days she had been trapped there, he hadn’t left her side once. Any time she tried to refuse his attention, he got upset. Every hour spent with him showed her just how far gone her boss truly was. Every morning he would set out her clothes for her. He cooked for her. He didn’t leave her side for even a moment. It was as though he thought smothering her would affect her perception of him and of the situation he had placed them both in.

“Darling,” He cooed coming up behind her where she had been sitting stiffly in one of the chairs in the living room reading and trying desperately to ignore his gaze on her. “You’ve been so quiet today. Are you feeling alright?” He asked resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I’m fine.” She murmured trying to suppress her shudder. He didn’t like it when she flinched. The bruise situated on her temple was evidence enough of that.

He hummed noncommittally before moving around her chair and lifting her up before settling her back down in his lap nuzzling into her neck enjoying her warmth and the feel of her in his arms. “I don’t like it when you’re this quiet.” He murmured against her neck. “I’d hate to think you were ignoring me, darling.”

She couldn’t help how she stiffened at those words. Jin had a temper, worse than she had ever realized. She had never thought that Jin was a violent man, but she hadn’t thought a lot of things about Jin until just a few days ago.

“Of course not.” She whispered forcing herself to relax into his hold despite the fact she wanted nothing more than to rip herself out of his hold and run to the farthest reaches of the earth to be away from him.

“Of course not.” He repeated smiling into her neck placing a kiss there. “My sweet darling.” His arms tightened around her possessively. “What are you reading, my love?”

“The Yellow Wallpaper.” She informed him eyes fixed on the cover of the book ignoring the frown that marred his features.

“That’s not a pleasant book, my darling. I don’t want you reading things like this.” He plucked the book from her grasp flinging it over on to the couch.

Of course he wouldn’t want her reading it. It was depicted a woman locked away by her husband to slowly go mad with only the peeling yellow wallpaper to keep her company. Granted her prison was much nicer than the room the poor lady in the book was locked away in, but it was a prison none the less. She had to wonder though why Jin had the book at all when he was so against her reading it.  He was meticulous enough to make sure everything in his home was “appropriate” for her. It was hard to think that this book had escaped his notice.

“There are far more pleasant books to read. Wouldn’t you rather read something more pleasant?” He coaxed nuzzling into her again. “I have such a wonderful selection of books in the solar.”

“Of course.” She agreed keeping herself calm despite how her heart was pounding against her chest. “I’ll run up and grab something different.” She offered with a strained smile as she began to extricate herself from Jin’s lap only to be pulled back.

“Leaving so soon, darling?” He purred into her ear grip tightening around her as he trailed his nose up her neck to place a kiss just below her ear.

“I was going to get a different book.” She murmured her voice trembling slightly as she forced the panic down.

Jin had slowly been becoming more and more touchy as the days went by. He always wanted to be in contact with her. He was always looking for an opportunity to brush his hand against the small of her back or the curve of her hip. He’d been placing kisses against her neck, her cheeks, her forehead. He had tried for her lips as well, but so far she had always been quick enough to turn her head before he could. She knew very well what he was leading up to. She wasn’t naïve despite how Jin treated her. She was trying her best to keep him at bay, but there was only so much she could do against him, and she was running out of time. Jin would only put up with her evasions for so long. He was not a patient man.

He hummed noncommittally his thumb rubbing circles into her hip as he kept her anchored against him. “I think I prefer you staying here with me.”

She took a deep breath to steady herself as she prepared to coddle him. She found that coddling him as she did at the office was the best way to deal with him, and she was nothing if not a master at coddling Kim Seokjin. She did her best to keep him at a distance, but just as she was a master of coddling Jin, Jin was a master of derailing her plans. He was excellent at getting under her skin, of finding new ways to force her just where he wanted her. It was always a gamble on whether or not she would be successful in redirecting him. At the office, Jin had to behave. Here, there were no such restrictions on his behavior.

“Jin,” She began making her tone as sweet and syrupy as she could. He preferred it when she was sweet. “I’m sure the office is missing you. Maybe you should check in, and I’ll grab a new book, something more pleasant. We can have tea afterwards.” She offered as sweetly as she could. He didn’t need to know that she would slip poison in his tea if given the chance.  

He frowned at her tightening his hold on her hip. “Darling,” He purred his tone sweet, seductive, but his eyes were dark and cold. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

She froze, her hands beginning to shake. “Of course not, Jin.”

His grip tightened further becoming painful. She was sure he was going to leave a bruise, just one more to add to the growing collection littering her body.

His sigh was filled with disappointment as he began to tutt at her. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Why do you insist on lying to me, darling?”

She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her. “Jin.” She pleaded trying to wiggle her way out of his grasp, but he held her still.

“Haven’t I been good to you, darling?” He turned her chin to look at him enjoying the way she trembled under his gaze. “Why must you continue to be difficult?”  

“Jin,” She whimpered again trying very hard to remain calm.

“I’ve been patient, darling. I thought a little time would help you adjust, but you continue to defy me. I didn’t want to do this.” He sighed again. “I really didn’t.”

“Jin, please.” She pleaded trying to push his hand away from her face. “Please.”

He nudged her up keeping a firm hand on her so she couldn’t escape. “You just don’t learn, darling.”

“Jin.”

“No, darling.” He purred standing and pulling her up with him. “You had your chance.”

She choked back a sob as Jin dragged her upstairs to their bedroom. She struggled against him the whole way trying to pull herself free, to fun. She couldn’t get out. She knew that, but maybe she could hide. It was a foolish plan really. Hiding would only serve to anger Jin more, but she wasn’t thinking logically. She was thinking of self-preservation.

It wasn’t hard for Jin to man handle her. He was stronger than her, and he had the stubborn belief that he was doing this for her own good on his side. Everything he did, he did for her, for them. He wanted a life with her, but she seemed determined to be a brat, to ruin all of his carefully laid plans. But if she was going to act like a brat, Jin was going to treat her like one.

“Now, darling.” He growled pinning her down to the bed as he began to strip her. “Don’t fight me. You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

He soon had her down to only her panties as he sat on top of her stomach. He grinned in triumph as he pinned her hands above her head. Now that he had her where he wanted her, Jin wasted no time in tying her up. He wanted her still and vulnerable before him, and Jin always got what he wanted. He had hoped to use the silk ties under more pleasurable circumstances, but she needed a lesson.

“Now, be a good girl for me, darling.” He cooed placing a kiss to the valley between her breasts before he left her on the bed.

When he returned it was with a wicked looking whip in his hands. Jin was nothing if not extravagant in anything that he did. This was no exception. The crop itself was made out of a sleek dark wood ending in a polished silver handle. But the other end held a short but thick braided leather rope that looked as though it was made to inflict pain. The entire thing had an antique feel to it, elegant, refined, and decidedly wicked looking.

He sighed looking down at her in disappointment as he rolled his shoulders. “This all could have been so much more pleasurable if you’d only listened to me, darling. Ah well. Another time.”  

“Jin,” She called out her voice warbling as she pleaded with him not to do this.

“Shhhhh, darling. Take your punishment like the good girl I know you are.”

“Jin, please. I’m sorry!” She shrieked as he brought the crop down against her breasts with cruel force.

“I know you are, darling, but things that are hard to bear are sweet to remember.” He brought the crop down again leaving a red welt against the soft skin of her belly. “I’m doing this for you own, good darling.”  Another hit, this time to the flesh of her upper thigh leaving behind another angry red welt in its wake.

Each hit fell swift and harsh against her skin littering her with a constellation of red marks. Some were even beginning to turn sickly shades of purple. When he had deemed her front covered enough, he flipped her over to continue this treatment on her other side. By this time she was sobbing from the pain. Any pleas she attempted to make were lost in tears and shrieks of pain.

To her, it seemed to go on for hours. The hits were endless, and they never seemed to lessen in strength. Each blow was almost worse than the last. Some blows were decidedly worse than others. She always knew when the wip had hit a spot it had marked before.

By the time it was over, she was nothing but a shivering, sniveling mess, but to Jin, she looked beautiful. Some of the hits had broken skin leaving her bloody and bruised before him. He liked seeing her like this, sniveling and submissive before him, but Jin was not stupid. He knew her wounds had to be tended.

He left her tied there as she went to the en suite to collect some ointment and a wet rag to clean her up with. She whined at the contact, but there wasn’t much she could do to escape it. Even though her bonds were soft and silky, they were strong. She had pulled against them during the entirety of her beating, but they had never budged once.

“Hush, darling.” He purred dragging the rag against her skin cleaning up the blood that leaked from some of the welts. “It’s over now. You did so well. Such a good girl for me.”

She hated it. She hated him, but even though she hated him, she found comfort in the soft touches he used to clean up her battered body. After all, he was the only comfort she was going to get. There was no one else there to help her. No one else knew where she was. It was just the two of them in this hell.

Once he was finished cleaning her up and placing a soothing ointment on her injuries, Jin untied her and turned her over slipping her into an oversized hoodie of his. The piece of clothing nearly swallowed her whole, but it was soft and warm. More importantly, it was his. He found he enjoyed her in his clothing. He’d have to dress her in his shirts more often.

He settled on the bed next to her pulling her into his side so she was leaned against his chest. “Be a good girl for me, darling, and we’ll never have to do this again. I promise.” He stroked her hair smiling down at her blissfully. “I love you, my darling.”

If this was love, she didn’t want it.

part 8

[mc-critical]

[2/2] i was reading one of your posts about dilruba & something about it made me wish dilruba had more screen time because she’s the only princesses who was extremely dutiful towards her mother & brother but also managed to achieve her own happiness through her marriage. also, one more thing which i wish was done with her character... so like we all know how safiye sultan practically worships hurrem, w/ always remembering her, showing her ring off etc. the way she talks about hurrem is very exaggerated, “hurrem sultan was head to toe power.” which is true but at the same time, the show really didn’t show her full & complete power like it was historically and we all know 2 seasons of hurrem went in being immature & not really regal or completely power [& she was still constantly overshadowed by the sultanas of blood]. however, hurrem was still almost like a goddess type figure in mc:k and despite safiye’s strained relations w/ nurbanu, she still praised her a lot. basically, the two figures of the sow & the ring holders from the first show are remember in the second show. but what about mihrimah? she was a vital figure in history & in mustafa’s downfall & in the last season of the show even though she didn’t receive the ring to signify her as a part of the sow. what i wished for is dilruba idolising mihrimah, aspiring to be a protector of her brother like she was & exaggerating her power like safiye did w/ hurrem. this way, mihrimah could also be remember. also, dilruba’s character was more of what i had imagined for mihrimah. i didn’t imagine her to love rustem like dilruba loved davut but i expected mihrimah to be more powerful & dutiful towards her mother [more compared to dilruba but ofc also not to the extent of wanting to kill kids who were part of the dynasty]. anyhow, dilruba could’ve really taken mihrimah as her idol imo as her, halime & davut were a parallel of mihrimah, hurrem & rustem. sorry for the long post! but this is something i wish mc:k had done. [worth nothing that rustem & davut were also similar villanish type guys who’s only redeeming qualities could be their toxic love for their sultanas & their loyalties towards hurrem & halime, though rustem did waver in his loyalty whilst halime sold davut like the dog he is lol]

Dilruba's character development was truly very condensed in these 9 episodes, so there was never going to be enough of her, from whichever angle you look at it. I kinda cut the writers slack, because I know the ratings played a considerable part in MCK's script and they had a lot to do and a lot to rush (whereas in MC they could practically do whatever they wanted, because their ratings were perfect, I guess that's why they had so many concubine arcs hehe), but I love Dilruba and I would've loved more screentime with her. The time we spent with her could feel so minimal to the point we get the impression that we got to know little Dilruba a bit more than the older Dilruba. (the opposite case of little Mihrimah, who was almost a completely different character with a different thematic set-up, her childish love for Bali Bey aside. The older Mihrimah went on a completely different path as a character.) This isn't a bad thing, per say, because little Dilruba had already set the foundation of the character as a whole and we didn't need much more context for her actions than what we already got, but this little amount of screentime could limit her role to a simple, a bit flanderized antagonist to Kösem, which is honestly a trend for all of Kösem's antagonists in S01.

{Safiye's cult for Hürrem is one of the most interesting things about her as a character, but it is over exaggerated for the reasons you mentioned just as it simply isn't real. Safiye has never met Hürrem in person and even if MCK didn't call back to that, Mihrimah actually played an important part in establishing that cult in her training of Safiye. Safiye knows of this powerful S04 Hürrem who makes everyone tremble before her and considers "survival of the fittest". (MCK Safiye shares the exact same philosophy) What she worships in Hürrem is rather a picture she has formed in her head, the figure from Mihrimah's stories. This aspect of Safiye's character is used to form her own path in the evolution of power in the SOW, so we could see symbolically how much of what Hürrem represents has she moulded to her own agenda, it's indeed not presented as the actual truth. It also brings the question and perspective of what fragment of Hürrem Mihrihah herself sets as an example for herself and others, knowing that she does not completely idealize her own mother in the show. She was perfectly able to call out Hürrem's own flaws as much as she could openly take Hürrem's judgement.}

That worshipping of Hürrem in MCK truly sounded far too ideal and almost god-like, but in reality, not so many people in the show actually practice it. The only person who actively does, is Safiye, a main antagonist. Ahmet only mentions Hürrem when he gave her crown to Kösem. The references to the MC characters and especially the SOW in MCK is fascinating because you can see how you get only the accomplishments of people you've only heard narratives on, but never their actual stories, their actual struggles. People who were actually around the worshipped people and knew them personally obviously have a clearer understanding of who they truly were, like how Safiye called Nurbanu the most beautiful but also the cruelest sultana she's ever known, which makes perfect sense, knowing their rivalry and enmity. Nurbanu is inspired by Hürrem, but still stood against her with all her might. The people who have heard only basic facts of the more unrealistically idealized sides of those they worship praise merely the symbols of these people, what they were known to represent. Ahmet wants to be as accomplished as Süleiman, but we, as audience, know of Süleiman's detrimental flaws as a person and a padişah and we see that, he isn't exactly a person to be praised, let alone worshipped. It's interesting how the SOW call each other back in different ways, but it's all the more interesting that neither Kösem, nor Turhan call back to their predecessors. Is it because they've known each other closer than any of the worship? Is it simply because their characters have a different purpose? Is it because the theme of letting go of the past reached its fullest peak? I definetly can't say for sure.

That said, MC Mihrimah isn't from the SOW in the show both symbolically and arc-wise, but having a character that is not from the SOW (Dilruba) worship another character from the other show that also isn't from the SOW (Mihrimah) would be intriguing, judging by their similarities. However, these exact similarities prevent me from assessing this idea entirely, because I don't think it would do the show many favors. It could add even more depth to Dilruba: her willingness to protect Mustafa at all costs would be even more understandable then, knowing how the person she worships did the exact same thing in her eyes - it would turn not into a necessity, but into an ideal to live by, something that not only she has to do, but considers as honorable to do and loves it. But Dilruba is close enough to Mihrimah along with the traits and conceptual differences that set both of them apart - having the parralel be "addressed" in-universe through a direct worship would remind the audience even more that Dilruba is similar to Mihrimah and that may prevent endearment to her character. There are people that consider MCK so similar to MC already, that would be the last nail of the coffin. It may have been a risky move because of the ratings? Safiye worships Hürrem, but Safiye has a different narrative role than Hürrem and a more distinct personality, while Dilruba is a more obvious and open parallel. Not to the point of repetition, of course, but it's still close enough for a possible worship for Mihrimah in the show itself to be a dealbreaker for some. I wouldn't mind such a thing for Dilruba at all, but I can see why it possibly wasn't the case.

I'm satisfied with what we got with MC Mihrimah, but I can understand why you would want more power and agency from her. She could be very clueless sometimes which contrasted with her moments of perceptiveness. That was a solid character flaw of hers, but it could be very annoying. But then again, I also get why Mihrimah was the way she was, because MC put the personal motives of a character before any kind of power (or a character wants power for personal motives). Dilruba was perhaps way more ruthless, because MCK itself was more ruthless and it built on the MC themes. Power was already for the sake of power, the time period was more ruthless, everything was happening instantly and there wasn't a place to breathe. While with Mihrimah we got a deeper exploration where we saw more vulnerable sides, Dilruba had both her screentime and this ruthlessness stopping her from developing more and letting her be who she is. I guess both characters had their reasons to be who they were thematically, but writing improvements could still be made, of course.

[coldmorte]

Hey! I really really like your blog and all the Dutch content, and I read your posts on Molly and Dutch and I just felt like sharing my thoughts :) If you don’t feel like it, just ignore this

I like Molly, even though I agree that she’s very much a snob and very paranoid at times.

It’s always felt very clear to me that Molly really, truly loves Dutch. And love makes you do stupid, desperate things (just look at Arthur).

Molly’s interaction with Abigail is about Dutch’s love for Molly, not the other way around. It’s Abigail saying that Dutch doesn’t love her and Molly lashing out (probably to protect herself from the truth).

This is brought up again in An Honest Mistake, when she talks to Arthur about Dutch, questioning how Dutch seems to him. When Molly says, “I really love him, you know,” Arthur averts his eyes and doesn’t look at her. I’ve always seen this as Arthur knowing Dutch doesn’t love her in the way Molly wants him to, if he loves her at all.

I’ve always seen Dutch as being kind of ahead of his time when it comes to certain progressive ideas (especially as it pertains to race), but when it comes to women, he’s very much a product of his his time. The way he talks about them and to/at them, whether it’s Molly or Abigail or Mary-Beth or Sadie, is often either dismissive or condescending.

While he doesn’t outright say it, the way he acts around the women at camp has always left me feeling like he prefers women (at least the ones he takes an actual interest in) to fit into the roles society has carved out for them; they have to be beautiful and docile and romantic-minded for him to take an interest.

You’ve said yourself, that Dutch deals with a lot of self doubt and that stems from wanting to be seen as a great and powerful man, who the people in camp can look up to, and women (especially young women) were (and to some degree stil is) seen as symbols of status. Molly is a beautiful woman from a wealthy family; she could have anyone she wanted, and she chose Dutch and ran away with him, leaving her old life behind – that’s the ultimate powermove on Dutch’s part.

I’ve always thought of Dutch as a romantic, the way he talks about love and how it’s the one thing worth living for, and I believe that he may have at some point actually loved Molly or at least convinced himself that he did, but the second he grows tired of her and realises that he doesn’t actually love her, he’s moving on to another, younger woman.

His inner romantic and his ego and need to be perceived as powerful are at odds with each other, and as the game progresses we see how his romantic and kind side wilt under the weight and pressure of his responsibilities as a leader and his need to be perceived as powerful and a great leader.

Those are my thoughts at least :)

Hello!

Thank you for the ask and the kind words! That really does mean a lot!! 💜💜💜

I am very grateful for your message, and no!!!! I don’t want to ignore it!! That wouldn’t be very fair of me, as I feel like you bring up some good points to discuss. Also, I appreciate the respect in your message and for taking the time to write so much out! I’d be happy to give you some of my time in return 🥰

(Warning: SPOILERS below)

I’m going to take your points one at a time here. So, starting with liking Molly, it’s totally fine! I don’t want to be too negative on my blog, and I don’t want people to feel like they have to think the same way I do. That wouldn’t be any fun, so it does make me happy that you can enjoy her character. I don’t want to take that away from you!! By all means, love her to your heart's content!!! ❤️

Furthermore, though I don’t personally like Molly, I don’t think she was a truly bad person. Just like every other character in the game, she had flaws and made mistakes. I primarily wish I could have gotten to know her better because she was presented during a very dark time in her life. I feel like this affected my perception of her, and I might have seen her differently, if I had gotten the chance to interact more with her character (especially outside of the RDR2 timeframe). Everybody deserves not only to love somebody, but everybody also deserves to have faith that the person they love can truthfully say the same back to them. I felt bad that Molly died such an unhappy, loveless death.

About the love Molly had for Dutch, I agree that she loved him. My point in bringing up infatuation was to primarily highlight the reason and the degree to which she honestly loved him. Did Molly love Dutch for the man he was, or for the idea of the man he was? Maybe, it was a mix? I am not sure there is enough information to give a conclusive answer to this (as I somewhat mentioned before).

To be fair, the same thing could (and should) be asked of Dutch. Did he truly love her, or did he just love the idea of having her at his side? Again, it would be fascinating to see the early part of their relationship. It would answer a LOT of questions. You mention that Dutch arguably saw Molly as a symbol of status, and I agree that it was very plausible. I think, to some degree, both Molly and Dutch saw each other as being favorable for what they represented, unfortunately.

In regard to the interaction between Molly and Abigail, I realize my response was unclear about this (that’s my bad). I'll try to write it better here, but this is really complicated to put into words! I'll do my best!!

What I said was that Molly got angry at people she “perceived” as challenging her love (this was subjective to her POV and not necessarily reflective of true reality). My original answer was not objective (nor was it meant to be - I was trying to write this part from her POV), and there are a few layers I want to analyze here. First of all, from an objective perspective, you are correct. The conversation between them was ultimately about Dutch not loving Molly the way she wanted to be loved. However, the first thing Molly did was state to Abigail that she loved Dutch. If she didn’t see this point as being in question, why did she feel the need to immediately justify it before saying anything else? To me, it seemed like she needed to actively prove that she loved him to others.

This was also seen with Karen and Arthur. The conversations with Karen were confusing because they didn’t have much context, but perhaps, that was the point - to show the extent of Molly’s paranoia (in other words, that there was no context and that she was imagining Karen to be against her out of insecurity). Molly continually complained that Karen said bad things about her, and she insisted that she not only loved Dutch, but that he loved her as well. Then, as you mention, Molly emphasized to Arthur that SHE loved Dutch (it was not directly about his love for her). Again, by constantly having to profess her feelings, it was as if she thought people were doubting her on some level.

But here is where the contradiction comes in - I believe that Molly was smart enough to know that this doubting wasn't entirely genuine. She knew it was never really her love that she should have been concerned about. Although, by focusing on herself, it was a way to deflect from her insecurity regarding Dutch and the fact that she knew, deep down, he didn’t truly love her (at least, not anymore). That’s why she got so upset when Abigail, for instance, brought this point up. As soon as the conversation shifted from Molly’s love to Dutch’s love, she lashed out and stormed away.

So, to try to summarize this all up, what I am trying to say is that Molly “perceived” challenges to her own state of emotions as a means of shifting away from her concerns about Dutch’s feelings. She knew her "perceptions" were really more like lies to herself. Molly wanted the conversation with Abigail to seem like it was about her because she felt she was more in control of that and could handle it better. From a neutral perspective, the conversation was definitely not about Molly - it was entirely about Dutch, which Molly knew (she just didn’t like Abigail directly pointing it). I hope my response makes more sense? Sorry, if I am still being confusing!

Now, as for Dutch and his progressive ideas, I think a lot of them were formed in his youth. Little information was given about his childhood, but he did seem pretty sensitive about the fact that he grew up fatherless. His dad died in the Civil War (a conflict primarily centered around the issue of slavery and states’ attitudes towards it), while fighting on the side of the Union. One reason Dutch was probably so progressive in regard to race was because of his anger over losing a parent to racially-motivated violence. Racism seemed like a waste of time and life, so he was bitter towards people who still harbored racist sentiments. He knew firsthand how destructive they could be.

Minimal insight was provided into Dutch’s relationship with his mother, other than the fact that it was quite strained and unhappy. He left home at a young age and essentially disowned her. He obviously didn’t keep in touch with her, judging that he didn’t even know she died until years after the fact. Could this have affected his attitude later in life (towards women)?

I suppose it’s possible. Maybe, Dutch would have looked better on women, had he been closer with his mother. I consider his attitude towards women as pretty average for the era. It’s not entirely fair to compare him to Arthur, who was very progressive for the time and definitely above normal standards. As you say, I think Dutch was a product of his time. In RDR2, he didn’t come across as physically abusive, nor did he overtly sexualize women. However, he did seem to expect women to act in a subordinate manner. It's not great (and I certainly do not agree with his attitude), but again, the contemporary standards in regard to gender roles did not exist in 1899.

Lastly, I COMPLETELY agree about Dutch being VERY romantic, sentimental, and idealistic. This wasn’t just limited to interpersonal relationships either - it also fit his entire perspective of America and the values he held dear. Just take a look at some of his quotes:

“The promise of this great nation - men created equal, liberal and justice for all - that might be nonsense, but it’s worth trying for. It’s worth believing in.”

And:

“If we keep on seeking, we will find freedom.”

In the beginning, he had such high hopes and strong faith that he could find a way to live free from social and legislative demands. Compare that to the end, where he started to say things like:

“You can’t fight nature. You can’t fight change.”

And:

“There ain’t no freedom for no one in this country no more.”

Dutch wanted to believe that there was a chance to live free from the threat of control, but as he started to lose people he loved and got closer to losing his own battle, he started to take on a much more cynical tone. He began to realize that his romantic notions and idealistic visions of life were not always obtainable - no matter how hard he tried to reach them - and it broke him. This change in his life outlook was kind of similar to his interpersonal relationships. When he realized they were a lot of work and not always happy/perfect, he seemed to grow frustrated. Love requires a lot of patience and energy. Despite full effort, love still does not always succeed.

Also, I just want to add that I think Dutch knew he had a problem with his pride, but he tried his best to maintain his tough, confident persona because he didn’t want to be perceived as weak. He definitely realized he messed up in putting his pride first in the end, but at that point, it was too late. Whatever was left of his idealistic aspirations in life died with Arthur up on that cliff.

Anyhow, I’ve said more than enough. I’d like to once again thank you for the ask!! I hope my response was worth the time to read and that it makes sense. Feel free to share any more thoughts you may have!!!

~ Faith 💜

[itsuki-minamy]

PROFILE: AMENO MIYABI (NEKO)

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Real name: Ameno Miyabi

Terms of address: Neko

[PROFILE]

Birthday: February 22, Pisces

Blood type: B

Age: 16 (At the beginning of the second season)

[APPEARANCE]

Physique: 1.55 cm in height. B89, W57, H88. Flexible body, beautiful legs.

Face, hair: Long straight hair. Strange cat eyes.

Attire: She Basically she wants to be naked. She doesn't like fashion because she wears clothes worn by people.

Personal effects: Nothing in particular. Light weight.

[HABITS, SKILLS]

· She has the ability to distort cognition by interfering with other people's perceptions and memories. It can be used as a mere hallucination or as a powerful hypnosis.

· Using her perceptual interference ability and her recognition operation ability, she lived like a "cat."

· Even though she is human, she cannot get rid of the feline habits of animals by playing with something or trying to catch them.

[IMPRESSION, OTHER NOTES]

· The image color is "pink".

· The image of an animal, "cat".

[POSITION, OBJECTIVES]

She was a free and lonely Strain who could live like a cat without being tied down by anyone, but once she met Shiro and the happiness of being together, being on Shiro's side was the only absolute goal. For that reason, she regrets spoiling Shiro's memory, and although she is still a free person, she developed humanity through the relationship between Shiro and Kuro.

For Neko, Shiro is synonymous with family, and there is almost no consciousness as a member of the Silver Clan.

[PERSONALITY, CONDUCT]

Relatives and others are clear. Shiro, Kuro, Kukuri, and the people at the school are related, and she tries her best to help them, but the sense of mission to help those she doesn't know doesn't work. She will help if she feels like it. A free person, neither a good person nor a bad person. The animal is very aware of danger and acts quickly in case of danger. She is cautious and unknowingly strange.

She used to be free-spirited, curious and hated responsibility, and quickly escaped when there was danger, but now she has some patience with Shiro.

[FATE, ENDING]

Accompany and support Shiro, who faces his destiny.

[ABILITIES, TACTICS]

During battle, she can overwhelm by creating a hallucination that surprises the opponent with the recon operation skill, or she can create a fake of her or his partner to confuse. The opponent does not die even if he is attacked by a hallucinatory object, but if he believes that the hallucination is real, he will be shocked.

It's an extremely powerful ability, except for the King, who can easily defeat the cognitive control ability, but it's not that scary because she doesn't want to use her ability wisely. She also learned to use her power to help Shiro and Kuro.

She usually uses her abilities to become self-conscious like a kitten. She used to spend most of her time as a kitten, but since she was with Shiro and Kuro, she has spent more time as a human child.

[POWER]

Out of range due to her special ability.

[LIKES]

Horse mackerel opening. Shiro. It tickles curiosity.

[DISLIKE]

Things that hurt herself or Shiro.

Leek.

[HOBBIES]

She chases what moves in detail.

[FASHION]

She likes nudity that cannot tie her to anything.

Even if she wears clothes, all she has to do is get dressed.

[BODY]

She is strong and has a high physical ability.

She doesn't feel cold because she thinks she has fur from the "Wagahai is a cat" reconnaissance operation.

[INTELLIGENCE]

Her original intelligence was not low, but she lacked common sense because she spent a lot of time as a cat. She faithful to instinct and without thinking about difficult things.

It's not that she's terrible though, she has a clean head like a baby, so the absorption rate after going to school seems to be good.

[BELIEFS]

She loves Shiro.

She hates trouble and being forced by something.

Like wild animals, she is free but she has no commitment to be free.

Free only.

[RELATIONSHIPS]

[EARLY YEARS]

At the time of Kantou's case, she awakens as a Strain with reconnaissance operation capabilities.

At that time, at the age of two, all true families are lost, but she uses her abilities to pose as a family.

However, at the age of five, she finds herself cheating on her family. A cat who swore by a family that once loved itself, she desperately decides to stop being a human being. She was familiar with the "walking" stray cat (Tamagoro) who came home from time to time, and she was envious of the stray cat's free life. She therefore applies a powerful recognition operation that "Wagahai is a cat" and has lived as a "cat" ever since.

[TIMELINE]

· 1997, Ameno Miyabi is born.

· 1999, she Awakens as a Strain in the capital of Kantou.

· 2002, Since it was discovered that she was exhausted by a family who had been deceived by her abilities, she decided to live as a cat instead of a human after being expelled.

· 2012, she found Shiro and became a member of the Silver Clan.

[ATTITUDE AND THOUGHTS TOWARDS OTHERS]

[TERMS OF THE ADDRESS FOR HIMSELF]

The first person is "Wagahai" and the second person is "the person's name".

She is basically not good at remembering the person's name and sometimes calls people by their own names, like "glasses" and "boss of glasses".

The way of talking is ordinary girls. Besides the way of speaking like "～Dayo!" "Kana?"

Basically, "Nya" is not the way to say the ending, but it is often used instead of exclamation.

[TOWARDS ISANA YASHIRO]

She calls him "Shiro".

A person that she loves. Perhaps she could live to protect him.

That great commitment is deeply involved in her education. For a cat who lost her own family due to the Kagutsu Genji case and sneaked into another family with Strain's ability gained by that, but the family also lost the ability because of that, Shiro who laughs and skillfully accepts it. She believes that Shiro's chest is the only place to live in this world.

A person who taught heat to a cat that was alone.

[TOWARDS YATOGAMI KURO]

She calls him "Kurosuke" and "Kuro".

A pet dog kept by the same husband.

As there is little awareness that he is a member of the clan, he is considered a co-inhabitant rather than a colleague. Cooked rice is delicious.

She doesn't show the favor of letting Shiro go, but she is open and trusting.

In a crisis, she helps unless something special happens. She may not help him until his life is taken.

[TOWARDS THE PEOPLE AT SCHOOL]

The people who serve rice.

She is willing to touch them, but if she tries to bring them home, she will run away.

In a crisis, she maybe she should help.

She likes Kukuri and Inaba, with whom she plays.

[TOWARDS OTHERS]

She is alert to the figure, but she does not try to touch it.

Since she is a Strain, the Blues can still be on the alert.

After the movie version of the incident, the members of "Homura" began to accept her feelings. She accepts snacks from Kusanagi, and thinks Anna is fun to be with.

[mephistagain]

Everything, or Nothing At All

Hello good, sweet, kind, wonderful friends who follow Flawed by Design.

Here is an epilogue which will not appear in the actual story, but which I*gleefully embraced and ran, ran so far away*toyed with the idea of at one point a few months ago. 

If you’d prefer to wait for me to finish FbD prior to reading any spoilerish content, abort reading now.

John parked the warthog in the usual spot at the edge of the redwoods. He retrieved his pack, slung it over his shoulder, and hauled the camo tarp atop the vehicle so that it didn’t stand out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of the verdant mountainside. Then he turned and started into the forest. The trek generally took him two hours, and while the warthog could handle the terrain for part of the way, he preferred the solitude of travelling on foot. 

Briar had also complained on the one occasion he had driven closer that the approach had been about as inconspicuous as he was - which was evidently not very, he’d been given to understand. 

The hike gave him time to clear his head of the latest sim test results, the monotony of base life, and the lingering impotency of being involuntarily removed from active duty. He was still a highly functioning tactical asset, so while he understood the decision as it had been explained to him by Brass as a matter of PR, he didn’t like it. Linda didn’t either, but she never complained. Unsurprisingly, Fred and Kelly were transitioning from life in the field with the most ease. They were anticipating instructional appointments as an opportunity to guide and shape the next generation of Spartan-IVs. 

Not him.

Pausing, John examined the trunk of one of the towering trees - more specifically the scarred markings some animal’s claws had torn into its bark. She’d informed him when he’d last left that there was a cougar lurking in the area. He continued on, the familiar weight of the M6H2 strapped to his thigh precluding any concerns about crossing paths with the predator. The territorial scorings didn’t appear recent, sap had already wept over the abrasions and hardened, but he still recentred his focus. Which wasn’t easily done as he tallied up just how long it’d been since he’d last left base. 

An unfamiliar weight settled in his gut, but he knew it for what it was - guilt. Seven weeks was not inconsiderable. And while it hadn’t been his intention to avoid returning, neither had he sought rec time or leave in order to do so. Hadn’t even given it much thought between the day in, day out routine trials Blue team had been selected to participate in for the Gen3 MJOLNIR platform.

He now had to wonder if that had been subconsciously purposeful because of his conflicted feelings over the pregnancy. Briar had encouraged him to seek the input of Fred, Linda, and Kelly, and yet he’d not done that either. Not even when Fred had noted that he was behaving more introvertedly than was characteristic of him. The reason for that, at least, was logical. As Blue team’s leader, undermining the others’ confidence in him by requisitioning advice on a subject none of them were more likely to have experience with than he did was irrational. Fred and Kelly may be more sociable than he was, but he doubted they were concealing clandestine children out there in the systems somewhere. The thought nearly made him snort, in fact. 

The elevation increase and time elapsed since he’d set out from the warthog suggested he was better than halfway there now. 

Would she be displeased with him? He hadn’t gotten the sense his initial reaction had caused her to be so. If anything, she’d seemed as uncertain about the development as he’d been. She hadn’t questioned him when he’d prepared to head back to base earlier than planned. Just requested that he speak with his fellow Spartan-IIs. 

The issue stemmed from the fact John had never factored children into his future. He’d factored another few decades of service in. But not much beyond that. And now, here he was; forced into semi-retirement for all intents and purposes, and staring fatherhood down the barrel. What that even involved, he couldn’t begin to fathom. His memories of his own childhood were so watered down and repressed that it took a Herculean effort just to recall that he’d possessed one at some distant point in the past. He would have a duty to protect the child, that much was obvious. And provide for it - though with the healthy settlement he’d been saddled with as compensation from the UNSC, there should prove no barrier to that. 

What would life for a child born to two Spartans even look like? It had never been explicitly expressed, but there wasn’t a shadow of doubt in his mind they’d never been expected to produce offspring. And while the inquisition into Orion and the subsequent Spartan programs had clued up, and public perception had shifted dramatically in light of its innumerable findings, it still didn’t feel as though society was prepared for Spartans to fully re-integrate. At least, not IIs and IIIs. The IVs had been regular enlisted before being recruited into their program. They’d led normal lives. Had families. No so for his and Briar’s generation. Despite having been stationed there for six months now, Blue team still received a variety of conspicuous reactions from the base’s other personnel as they went about their assigned duties. He ignored them, but the relief of leaving it all behind when he drove past the last checkpoint and the wild landscape opened up before the warthog had been palpable. 

The fact he looked forward to Briar’s company wasn’t the enigmatic response it had initially presented as to him any longer. With her, he was just John. And whatever that entailed, she took in stride. No expectations. 

He smelled it before he saw it. The copper tang of blood hung heavy in the air as he approached the clearing the cottage occupied on the ridge. Through the foliage, tawny hide could be glimpsed. Brandishing his sidearm, he strained his honed senses for further signs of intrusion as he stalked in towards his quarry. Within twenty metres, John could detect the error in his assessment. The once-predator’s pelt hung from a make-shift frame of pliable branches, stretched out wide in a curious display of victory. So, she’d taken care of the cougar. Bypassing the trophy, he was returning the magnum to its holster when he noted the smear on the doorframe. Briar wasn’t as fastidiously tidy and organized as he was wont to be, but a bloody handprint seemed grisly even for her to disregard cleaning up. 

John glanced back to the hide. The dark stain from blood which had pooled beneath it seemed to indicate it’d been hung there for some time. Hours, probably. His attention returned to the smeared handprint. Was it possibly not the result of the animal’s blood, but her own? Had she been injured?

“Briar?” he called not without apprehension as he pushed through the door and inside. Crimson droplets led directly across the rustic floorboards towards the lav. His heart rate kicked up a notch. She hadn’t responded. Dropping the pack with a thud, he stepped over the trail as he strode to the open doorway. No light spilled out, so he wasn’t surprised not to find her within, but the open med kit, mess of bandaging supplies, and blood ringing the sink did alarm him more than he cared to admit. She’d treated herself for whatever wound she’d received, he reasoned with himself. Everything was likely fine. 

Noise outside pulled John away from the chaos which had been unleashed in the lav. He re-emerged from the cottage just as Briar was latching the door on the small tool shed he’d insisted they erect during his last visit, to remove the clutter of equipment from the limited space offered in the main living structure. 

She looked about as bewildered by his presence as he felt about the scene he’d witnessed upon arrival, but as usual, recovered first. “Could have used your help earlier,” she commented while wiping her dirty hands on her already soiled pants. A combination of blood and grime interrupted their dark green camo patterning. 

“With the cougar?” he surmised, having paused just outside the door.

“With burying it.”

That explained the mud, anyway. “Are you alright?” She appeared whole, but the med kit had been rummaged through for a purpose. Her black t-shirt revealed a few shallow lacerations on her arms, but none of them were bandaged.

Briar shrugged, or began to, though the motion was cut short by a grimace. “It got the jump on me, nothing serious.” She lingered by the shed, her gaze having shifted to the hide. “Should have driven it off a while ago.” It didn’t seem a conscious action, but one of her hands drifted briefly to her abdomen before falling back to her side.

It hit him with the sheer, unrestrained force of a NOVA. She’d been in danger - the child she carried, his child, had been in danger - and he hadn’t even known. No matter his uncertainty, the overwhelming and fierce instinct to protect that precious unborn life consumed him with an abruptness he’d never before experienced in his 48 years. He didn’t know what to expect from fatherhood, but the fear of having that opportunity snatched away by variables outside his control was perhaps the realest he’d ever known. 

She was eying him pensively as he closed the distance between them. Dark strands of hair had escaped her braid and smudges on her cheek and temple implied she’d probably been pushing the loose locks out of her eyes. He reached up to do so for her now after she’d unsuccessfully attempted to blow them out of her line of sight. 

“Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking, or should I stand here waiting like an idiot for you to say something for another ten minutes first?”

“I’m thinking that cougar chose its prey unwisely.” 

She rolled her eyes, but they then shot down to where his hand had come to rest over her stomach before she could reply. 

“And that I shouldn’t have waited so long to come back,” he supplied with regret. Not only did he now comprehend how cowardly it had been, even if it shamed him to ascribe such a trait to himself, it had nearly cost him more than he’d at first understood. 

Briar was regarding him with an unreadable expression. She hadn’t stepped back, but neither did she seem particularly welcoming of his proximity. What must she have thought of him as the weeks had stretched on in his absence? “I knew you would,” she said after some time. “Eventually.” It didn’t sound as though that certainty had reassured her much, it was more of a statement of fact.

“I didn’t speak to the others about it.” She deserved to know he’d disregarded her request along with leaving her out here alone without explanation.

“John-”

“But I’m going to. When I go back.”

“It was just a suggestion-”

“What were the bandages for?” he cut her off, having already made up his mind on the matter. Blue team might not be able to offer parenting advice, but they would give him their honest assessment of the situation. And since the added responsibility could potentially affect his performance as team leader, they needed to be aware of that. 

Sighing, she turned around and lifted her shirt to reveal the gauze padding haphazardly taped to her back. Blood had already seeped through several wads, suggesting the wounds they covered were deeper than those on her arms. “I’m going to clean up the shitstorm in there, I just wanted to deal with that asshole before dark,” she said while shooting the pelt a miffed glare and dropping her shirt again. 

“So you decided to skin it.”

“Only after it tried to eat me.” 

John took her by the arm to gently propel her inside. Fortunately, she didn’t resist. In the lav, he again turned her so that she faced the opposite direction and pulled the t-shirt up and over her head, prompting her to lift her arms in the process. Then he began the painstaking process of peeling the medical tape off, doing so slowly so as not to aggravate the injuries beneath. 

All of this, Briar endured cooperatively in silence. Even when he applied the biogel, which he knew from plenty of personal experience, stung owing to its antiseptic component. Once he’d reapplied the bandaging in plush squares, he returned the supplies to the med kit and rinsed out the sink. 

She was still standing in the same spot, shirt held in one hand as she faced the shower unit. Her posture didn’t point towards being receptive to physical contact, so he leaned against the doorframe to give her some space.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking… if this isn’t something you want to go through with, I understand.”

The sudden remark set him on edge almost as swiftly as the cougar pelt had. “Explain,” he prompted her when no further information was offered. 

“Explain what - that neither one of us would have any clue how to raise a kid?” She was shaking her head and he knew without needing her to say more exactly where her doubts stemmed from. She’d confessed before to having no memory of her parents, and his own were vague impressions in the few flashbacks he’d experienced over the years.

“I want to try.”

When she turned around finally, she was frowning. “It’s not something you ‘try’, John. There are no trial runs. No sims. You can’t fuck it up, you don’t get to reset to alpha position.”

Jaw setting with determination, he pushed away from the doorway. “Then we don’t fail.” They’d been forged with a will to succeed at all costs as ingrained as the fundamental functions of breathing, eating, or sleeping. 

“And we’re going to base it off of what? How Mendez treated us? The other drill instructors? AIs?” Briar moved to bypass him, but he prevented her by blocking her path. It wasn’t difficult in the confined space. “I won’t be responsible for screwing some kid up as badly as we were.”

“Some kid?” John repeated, chest tightening at the description of the child even now developing in her womb. He searched her features for some sign she held no attachment whatsoever to the new life they’d inadvertently created. All he saw was diffidence and frustration. This time when she tried to squeeze past, he caged her in against the cabinet the sink was built into, an arm to either side to keep her there. “I see you,” he told her, voice even despite his own inner turmoil. He couldn’t pressure her into a role she wasn’t prepared to undertake. Even if he’d come to the conclusion it was what he wanted. One of the few things he’d ever wanted - not because it was a duty he’d been trained and groomed to carry out, but because it was one he desired the privilege of fulfilling.

Dropping her gaze, she balled up the shirt. Her shoulders rose and fell with shallow breaths, another indication of her state of agitation. 

It wasn’t something that came naturally to him, but he brought one hand up to cup her face nonetheless, offering her the comfort he perceived she required in that moment. He still recalled the light and foreign touch of her own fingers upon his cheek in ‘Vadam’s keep. It’d been the first time anyone other than Fred, Kelly, Sam, or Linda had laid a hand on him for a purpose other than addressing an injury, delivering punishment, or examining his MJOLNIR since he’d been conscripted into the Spartan program. She’d advised him not to analyze it, but that’d proven impossible when, from that moment forth, a steadily growing part of him he hadn’t previously known existed had craved that contact. Expressing that hadn’t been something he’d been aware of how to do, or even whether he should do. 

“What’s going on in there?” she asked quietly.

Chagrined to have lost focus, his brow furrowed. He ran his thumb over the dirt smudged across her cheekbone, but it didn’t remove the blemish. Neither did it diminish her appeal, however. “Thinking,” he answered. “About you.” About how much had changed for him in the time they’d known each other, none of it anything he could have ever predicted.

She was waiting for him to elaborate, he could tell.

“And about being something other than a Spartan.” Something more. Something he chose. “But only if it’s what you want.” 

Her lips grazed his palm as she turned her head. She pressed a kiss there. “I want you.” Rising up onto the balls of her feet, she gripped his shoulders, the t-shirt slipping to the floor. “I want everything. With you. And it scares me, John.” And he could see it in her eyes. That terror. The fear of daring to want something. 

Carefully drawing her in close with an arm around the small of her back, which hadn’t sustained any gouges, John held her gaze. “Someone told me being human can be like that.” He was expecting physical repercussions for the cheeky reminder, namely a punch, but gladly obliged when Briar instead tugged on his tags. Lowering his head, he released a pained grunt when her mouth only briefly met his before she captured his lower lip between her teeth. 

“Smartass,” she scolded him with relish and then kissed him - properly this time. 

[syilcawrites]

Angry confessions,,,like accidental angry confessions,,,confessing angrily,,,

a/n: hello it’s been a while but I finished!! I kind of based it off of “are you in the clouds or the rocks right now” hope that’s okay huhu.

summary: Link.exe stops working because Zelda accidentally confesses to him in the midst of a heated conversation :~)

ao3

a carved heart on the back of your hand

Link hates the rain.

It wasn't supposed to rain today, but it did, and now everything is ruined.

Zelda wrestles her wrist from his grip once they stop at a nearby run-down house; his right hand is still trembling and it feels like his muscles and tendons have been ripped from his left arm. It's better than feeling nothing at least—he can still feel the fabric of his sleeve against his skin. Link rolls his shoulder slightly, wincing. It's not broken.

She sighs out with an irritable huff, and he hears the Hylian Shield he gave her earlier clatter between them.

"Why did you do that."

He shrugs as he stares at the broken stone wall in front of him. He can't stop shaking his leg. "We should wait," he says quietly.

"I'm ready. You even said I was ready!"

"Why do we have to rush this?" He braves a glance back at her, and it's just as bad as he thought—she's fuming—face red with her chin held high and her lips twisted into an angry frown. She wants to rush back into things—rush back into correcting Hyrule, to make up for all those lost years. He gets it. Of course he gets it; it's exactly how he felt when he first woke up. There was a sense of duty he knew he wanted to follow through with even though he lacked any of his memories.

"There's a centuries' worth of responsibilities I have to catch up on. And to survive in this Hyrule of today, I need to learn how to carry my own weight." Zelda looks away from him, her frown deepening as she crosses her arms. She squeezes her eyes shut for a brief moment before she glares up at him. "And you—" The anger returns to her face as she takes a step toward him. He flips around to face her completely, holding up his hands in slight defense. "Do not jump in front of me like that again. It was completely irresponsible of you to rip the shield from my arm."

It was dangerous, even he will admit that. He knows she's capable—her precision with parrying is nothing short of amazing—but Guardians who could still slither around were different from the ones who were immobile.

And when it crawled on top of an empty body of a decayed Guardian, it aimed down directly at her forehead. Which isn't anything new, no. It always aimed for the head. That's how it usually goes, and he knew that. He knows that. But what if the Guardian slipped because of the rain? And then just like that, it could've hit her in the chest, arm, leg—whatever. It could've hit her.

Last-minute parrying is probably one of his least favorite things to do, but his legs were already moving through the sluggish mud and his mind was trailing too slow behind his feet.

Guardian, rain, Zelda.

Those were the only three words chasing each other in his mind at that moment. And the next thing he knew, he had the shield in his arm, the Guardian had toppled over, and Zelda was yelling at him.

He doesn't regret doing what he did.

"It was the rain's fault," he says. The rain got into his eyes, his ears, his nose.

"What rain?" she asks, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. "It wasn't raining."

"It was raining," he trails off, unsure now.

Was it raining?

"Link, you know that I love you, but for Hylia's sake!" Zelda exclaims, narrowing her eyes as sharp as knives. "What you did was extremely, unfathomably—and might I add ridiculously—reckless and dangerous."

Love. Not loved, but love, as in a I love you right now kind of love.

"Wait, really?"

"Yes really!' she exasperates, groaning as she rubs her temples. "Sure, Calamity Ganon is gone and the Guardians are a bit weaker now, but that doesn't erase the high threat that they still pose."

"No that's not—" Link quickly averts his gaze to her feet. Wait—he's supposed to be the triforce of courage. He shifts his gaze back up at her, and it takes every inch of his strength to maintain eye contact. He's been through death—he almost lost his head to a laser beam about five minutes ago—so this isn't… it shouldn't feel worse, but it does.

He gulps.

"You love me?" His stomach flips. He wants to drag the words that he has haphazardly thrown out into the wild back into the deepest parts of his mind, because now she's looking at him with a very, very weird expression: mouth twisted, eyebrows strained, nose scrunched.

And his voice sounded scratchy, so scratchy when he said that. He needs water, but there's no water near them because they drank the last of it early afternoon before they made their way to Hyrule Field. Outskirts Stable should have some… or maybe—what was closer? Riverside? But Akkala has the best water, so maybe he should go there instead. She did say how it tasted cleaner than other areas. It would be quick, in and out within two seconds tops if he used the Sheikah Slate. It's Autumn and the days are shorter and—

Link pats his hips frantically.

The Sheikah Slate is attached to Zelda's hips. They've been switching off, and of course, of course she has it today.

Link exhales. This is a-okay, shrug it off. It's not like she'll bite his fingers off if he asks for it—the both of them are probably really parched right now anyway since they just ran for who knows how long. And he knows Zelda, she'll definitely realize how perceptive and practical he's being with his proposition, and let him go swiftly without much argument.

"Are you thirsty?" he asks confidently, breaking the suffocating silence between them.

"Excuse me?"

"I can get us some water in East Akkala Stable, if you give me the Sheikah Slate."

"Well, I suppose so…" She unhooks it from her hip slowly, fumbling with it a little when it catches onto the metal of her belt. "Oh—!"

Link quickly reaches out for it before it can hit the ground—but Zelda does too, and then their hands touch. Link draws back immediately, and the Sheikah Slate smacks against the face of the Hylian Shield before bouncing off onto the broken pavement they're standing on. Link almost slaps his cheeks—their hands always brush against one another. Why'd he react like he got shocked by an Electric Wizzrobe?

"I'll be right back," he says quickly, swiping the Sheikah Slate up. His fingers hover over the screen as he licks his lips—how does he turn on the screen again? Tap it once? Twice? Five times? If Hylia is out there can she help him remember, please?

"Three times."

"Huh?" Link snaps his head up.

"Tap the screen three times to open it up," she mutters as she picks up the Hylian Shield from the ground, her eyes still on him.

"Thanks," he says, staring back down at the blue-lit screen. Akkala, upper right. Click the glowing icon and press yes. He looks back up at her, and she's situated herself under a part of the broken house, with the shield resting against her legs and a hand placed against the sheathed dagger attached to her hip. "I'll be quick," he promises, as the blue light begins to eat away his vision of her.

Zelda's face scrunches up like she's about to burst into tears.

He blinks, and instead of seeing her torn face, East Akkala Stable sits in front of him. And now he's definitely sure it's raining because this time he can feel a light, cold drizzle pelt against his skin. "Idiot," Link whispers as he tussles his bangs with frustration.

He just needs to be away for a second—it's hard thinking clearly when he's with her for some reason, and it's even harder trying to mask his emotions around her. In all of those memories, he was as stiff as a plank of wood. Even he couldn't read his own expressions when he remembered them. And sometimes he can manifest that part of him back, but with Zelda…

If he lingers too long in that feeling of emptiness, he knows he might stay like that forever. Most of those memories were filled with quiet conversations and sad smiles—he doesn't want to create more between them.

Link pulls out both of their water pouches as he nears the nearby spring reservoir, opting to avoid the stable altogether—he sighs again as he crouches down, sticking them into the water. The bubbles rise and burst with that awful glugging sound. He pointed out how weird it sounded to Zelda one time, and they both watched the pockets of air float and pop to the surface of the water as if it was the greatest thing in the entire world. He figured that the simplicity of it mesmerized the both of them. It seemed like she appreciated it when he pointed out random stuff to her—it's what initially drew her out of her half-dazed stupor for weeks after they defeated Calamity Ganon.

He sits by the water for an extra twenty minutes after he finishes filling up the water pouches, just soaking in the light drizzle dripping down his hair; leaking into the seams of his clothes, until he can feel it soaking into his skin. The rain washes away his thoughts.

He really hates the rain.

When Link returns, he finds her stabbing into the edge of some random piece of log with her dagger, a little ways away from the worn-down house. He can't tell if she's stabbing it out of anger or out of pure concentration. He raises an eyebrow as he comes closer, noticing that she's not actually stabbing it, but carving something.

"Zelda?" he calls out. She jumps at the sound of his voice but doesn't turn around.

"You're back already?" she asks, briefly glancing over her shoulder at him after a heartbeat. If she thought he was quick with his water trip, then she really was in the zone. "Wait—don't come closer."

He pauses about ten lizalfos' away from her, holding both of the water pouches in his hands. He watches with growing curiosity as she continues to stab and jab at the piece of wood a couple more times before she sheaths her dagger back. She rips something out of the log—hard enough for her to fall down onto her bottom, and Link instinctively takes a step forward with an arm slightly outstretched to her.

"Hm." She stands up as she looks back at him again, her expression troubled. "Why are you drenched from head to toe?"

"It was raining," he says, pressing his arm back to his side, "actually raining this time." He jogs over to her to close the distance between them. A humorless smile quirks upon her lips as she turns around with her arms behind her back.

They stand there awkwardly for a few moments.

"Well?" Zelda eyes his hands.

"Oh—" Link almost hits her arm as he quickly extends his hand out to her.

"Thank you," she says, grabbing it. She stares at the lip of it before holding out her other hand to him. "You said you lost that rock during the fight with Calamity Ganon?"

Link furrows his eyebrows together.

"The… that one rock you found on Death Mountain. The heart-shaped one. You called it your good luck charm?"

Oh, right. Somewhere in the midst of flying up in the air and running everywhere like a madman around Calamity Ganon, his heart-shaped pebble had fallen out from inside of his Champion's Tunic.

"Well," she says, tightening her fist, "I'm sure this is certainly not the exact way it looked. A craft such as wood carving takes years and years of practice, so this is the best I can manage." She still hasn't opened her fist—in fact, her knuckles have gone white. "You know that I always put my best efforts into whatever I am doing."

Link nods, waiting for her to drop the object into his palm. "Everyone knows you put your all into everything you do."

With a sigh, she opens her hand, and the small object falls into his palm with a light thud. It's a crudely carved heart-shaped piece of wood. It looks more like a weird hexagon, but at a certain angle he can see the heart in it. It looks nothing like the heart-shaped pebble, and that's exactly why he loves—

A short laugh escapes his lips before he realizes it.

"I'll make a better one once I get more practice!" she insists as she puffs out her cheeks. "I don't want your luck to run out, so just keep it for now."

"No," he says, running a thumb against the unevenly rough surface of it, "this one's perfect."

"Perfect? You insult me Link," she scoffs. Wisps of hair escape from her carefully pulled back braid, framing around her cheeks. Absentmindedly, she brushes it away from her skin, but it keeps falling back into the same position.

He wants to cup her cheeks, but both of his hands are occupied.

"I—" They both begin, pausing. Zelda purses her lips, but she keeps her gaze level with his eyes.

"I love you too," he blurts out before she can say anything, and presses the wooden heart against his fluttering chest. Red blooms onto her cheeks immediately—it's faint, but there. Maybe it's from the cold, since the wind picked up two minutes ago.

Her surprised expression melts into a soft smile—a smile with her lips slightly parted, carrying a sort of gentleness that is usually masked by the weariness of the world.

It's one of his favorite smiles.

[genuinerio]

She’s A Rainbow ↠ 「 STEVE HARRINGTON 」

PROLOGUE I.

pairings: steve harrington x oc! (eventual love interest), jonathan byers x sister!oc, will byers x sister!oc

Words: 796.

Notes; I hope you don’t mind that there’s some similarities between this story and my Jonathan Byers like Nadine being Steve’s best friend and being part of the popular clique. Also, the first chapter for “Oh, Darling,” is in progress and will be coming very soon.

Nadine Byers was known to be quite the opposite to her twin brother, Jonathan. The girl was known around Hawkins to be quite a rebellious girl, someone who didn’t let anyone objectify her actions, let them run her life for her nor was never afraid to take risks.

In fact, most people weren’t even aware that she was a Byers child at all considering she would never mention them or let alone introduce them to her family which Jonathan had assumed that she was ashamed to be a Byers child.

But that was far from the truth, she was just not as open book as her friends were since she was in the popular clique.

Before Nancy was ever apart of her friendship circle let alone entered Steve’s life, their friends had assumed that Steve and Nadine would eventually get together but their relationship was quite ambiguous as it was a typical “we’re not together but also like each other,” considering that they were known to hook up at times.

Steve was quite obvious in his approach towards the girl though and despite her toying with his feelings, Nadine just wasn’t sure she could be with Steve since she wasn't too sure of her romantic feelings towards him as she wasn't too fond of being in committed relationships; but the reason overall was his constant bullying towards her brother which she was deeply objected to.

Despite her pleas to end the bullying towards her brother, they were still curious on why she would stand up for “a weirdo like him,” but she clearly cared deeply for her family despite her brother thinking otherwise.

It wasn't until her little brother, Will went missing that she began to really drift away from her friendship circle.

The eldest Byers child was someone that wasn’t very good at confronting her personal issues in the best way, she would rather push her problems and thoughts rather away or ignore them until they did in fact go away.

Nadine was known to her friends to make quite impulsive decisions and was quite good at keeping secrets from her loved ones.

One, particular secret was her drug use, nobody was aware of this whatsoever, she would abuse drugs believing it to be a stress reliever but it didn’t help her at all, in fact it only caused more problems.

Her friends or one friend in particular, Steve had sensed a deep troubling perception of Nadine believing her going into a downward spiral and it wasn’t him that not only thought that, her brother Jonathan had thought so too but he couldn’t put his finger on the issue at all.

Ever since, she had been battling drug use, she had developed anorexia as well and her consistent secrets would cause a huge strain on her sibling bond with Jonathan as she had left him quite in the dark about what was exactly happening with her.

Classmates spreading rumors of her supposed drug addiction and anorexia had concerned him but when he confronted his sister, she would only rebuff his questions, accusing him of believing them over his own twin sister even despite it being true.

It was not that he had believed that regardless, Nadine was known to be an empowering intellectual and a typical powerhouse woman. He felt this rumor of a drug addiction was out of character for his sister and paid no mind to them.

It felt quite weird because now, since she got herself into this mess, she was a different person, she was very reserved, more than usual Jonathan had thought.

She no longer was the young girl with the love and passion for art whom had wanted the dream of being an artist.

Her and Jonathan had such a close bond as twins, they told each other almost everything but it was as if she was unrecognizable to him or Joyce.

He was unsure of the rumors of a possible drug addiction being true but he kept a close eye and realized the rumor of her having an eating disorder would definitely have a higher possibility, considering the fact that Joyce and Jonathan at dinner would notice her lack of eating or her claim of eating priorly either. 

But it wasn't until her little brother, Will Byers had gone missing that things took a huge toll on her.

Her, Will and Jonathan were known to be very close knit siblings, both elder siblings of the Byers household were very protective of their brother often taking car rides at night, listening to music on the cassette player and Will would often turn to Nadine for sisterly advice when sometimes he felt her advice would be more of help but she never minded.

Nadine was very caring to her brother and his friends, never thought of them as annoying but was very appreciative of their kind friendship with Will even considering them as her own brothers, despite a particular friend of Will’s harbouring a crush on her.

It wasn’t until her brother’s disappearance though and her need to find him that her life in Hawkins had taken a very interesting turn and impact it would cause profoundly in her life.

Florence Pugh as Nadine Byers.

Joe Keery as Steve Harrington.

Stranger Things Cast as Their Characters.

MASTERLIST.