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fearlessinger · 4 years

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Hello. :3 in your Chat Blanc analysis, you said Adrien doesn't trust himself to take the charge, to make right decision. Do you think this is also what factor on his poor performance as Mr Bug? (Aside from him underestimating Ladybug's role like many people said) Or is it because the Reflekdoll event that make him think so? He did said he's not a good ladybug after all. Thank you in advance!

Hi!

This is an excellent question with a relatively simple answer so I hope you’re up for another 3 pages of analysis because this is the kind of person I am *finger guns*

I do have a TL;DR this time though. Here it is: yes. Yes it factors in why he performed so poorly and also yes his poor performance reinforced his feelings of inadequacy in a sort of feedback loop of doom that was only really broken in Miracle Queen.

Enjoy my overly long and detailed explanation of why I think so under the cut… or not. You’re free to go honestly

The thing is, Adrien is not just unused to being the one who calls the shots as a superhero. He’s unused to being the one who calls the shots in general, in… practically every aspect of his life, to be honest. Adrien has always demonstrated that he has his own opinions and wants, and he’s not easily swayed from them, but acting on those opinions and wants can and will get him punished in his house, and for the longest time his house was his entire world.

The day he managed to get himself into public school and became Chat Noir is the day he basically won his own personal jackpot, and he’s been taking advantage of the opportunities that have been disclosed to him ever since. Learning to take his own life into his hands and trust his own choices is a major part of his character arc. By the time Reflekdoll happens, he’s already made significant progress in this area, but is still nowhere near secure in his right and ability to make big important decisions, especially if he has to do it in place of someone he knows for certain is more qualified than him for the task, like Ladybug, and especially knowing that his decisions will not only affect him, but her and the whole city too.

I disagree though, that he underestimates the difficulty of Ladybug’s job. I think the opposite is true, and in fact his awareness of how crucial the task he’s been suddenly called to perform is, contributes a lot to the anxiety and sense of inadequacy that, along with sheer inexperience and just not being as natural and perfect a fit for Tikki’s power as Marinette is, end up overwhelming him to the point that he needs Marinette to nudge him toward the solution of a lucky charm puzzle that was tailored specifically to the way HIS brain works.

The thing with Adrien is, he’s an actor. Not just in the sense that he does it as a job, but in the sense that putting up a front is his main strategy for handling/coping with his father’s absence and expectations and discipline, not to mention his status as a teen idol and brand ambassador for his father’s company. And before Origins these two things made up the entirety of his life. So even though he now technically has some more leeaway to act as just himself, especially when he’s Chat Noir… habits are hard to break. And acting is very easy for him. It’s something he knows how to do, and to do well, and I actually think it’s something he genuinely enjoys doing, even. So that’s what he keeps doing, even when it’s not exactly healthy or wise. It’s definitely what he falls back on when he finds himself struggling. It’s something I think a lot of kids who come from an abusive background can relate to. You don’t show that you’re struggling. You cover it up, so you won’t disappoint or anger anyone. That’s what Adrien does, is still doing by the time the NY special rolls up. It doesn’t really occur to him yet that if other ppl see his struggle, they might want to help him rather than punish him.

Reflekdoll opens with Chat bragging about being “the fun one” and (affectionately, but really not very gently) mocking Ladybug for being a humorless Little Miss Perfect. On the surface, I can see how it might seem like he’s underestimating the importance of her role… until you actually listen to their conversation:

Chat Noir: I don't call the shots, my Lady. You're the superhero who captures the evil akumas— I'm just the cunning, ultra-charming Cat Noir.

Ladybug: Right, you have it easy.

Chat Noir: Easy? That's 'cause I make it look easy.

Ladybug: As cunning as you might be, that little prank you pulled earlier almost made my Lucky Charm fail!

Chat Noir: Do you know why Master Fu gave you the Ladybug miraculous instead of me?

Ladybug: Because it requires someone with a sense of responsibility?

Chat Noir: No, because you don't have a sense of humor.

Ladybug: Pfft, whatever. (Cat Noir tries to kiss her hand) Ah! (She pulls away)

Chat Noir: Uh... Look, it's no big deal! You have so many other great qualities! I'm just in charge of the humor department. (His ring starts beeping)

Ladybug: You'd better get going before you lose your clown costume.

Chat Noir: Miss you already, Bugaboo.

Ladybug: Don't call me—!

Chat Noir: (leaving) See? I was right! (Ladybug groans)

Look at what he’s saying. He’s not really putting down Ladybug at all. He is in fact outright stating that she’s basically the one who does all the important work in their partnership. You’re the superhero who saves the day, and me? I’m cute. Yeah, my contribution can be basically boiled down to decoration and clownery, but don’t I make it look good? Don’t I at least make you laugh? Admit it Ladybug, if you didn’t have me… well you’d have no problem saving the city as usual, but if nothing else you’d at least miss my jokes! Right? Right??

We don’t see what happened before this exchange and we don’t hear the start of the exchange either, but it sounds like Chat’s made some kind of miscalculation and they barely managed to make up for it at the last moment. They are both understandably frustrated: Chat because he feels like he’s dragging down the team with his incompetence, and Ladybug because she’s stumped by Chat’s refusal to acknowledge he can do better. And she knows he can do better. He does it all the time! But neither of the two manages to say what they really think. Adrien because he doesn’t want to admit to his weakness, and Marinette because she can’t see past his fake bravado and takes his bait, letting him drag her into another round of banter.

This is a constant thread all throughout the episode. Adrien hides, Marinette falls for his diversions. Adrien LOOKS confident… most of the time… as he bungles his way through being Ladybug for a day, but it’s quite obviously an act. In truth, he’s pretty terrified. Marinette does not see that fear. He teases her, she teases him back. She does not think twice of it.

I think people get thrown off by this line:

Mister Bug: (looks around, trying to figure out how to use his Lucky Charm) Okay, I admit it. It's not easy being a super Ladybug.

But he’s not saying this in reference to some long held opinion of his that he’s now suddenly reevaluating. He’s never thought Ladybug’s job was easy. He’d been however PRETENDING for the past 5 minutes or so, for both his and Ladybug’s sake, that he was gonna do great and have no trouble whatsoever filling in Ladybug’s shoes. Because that’s his first response to stress, always. He smiles. He pretends everything’s fine. He does not let the cracks show. He hopes really really hard that he’ll make it, somehow. And even in this episode, I think he does hope, for a moment, that he’ll actually manage to rise up to the challenge of being Ladybug. But he doesn’t. He can’t. So he has to admit that he was lying through his teeth. He’s not doing great. He’s not even remotely close to it. He has to ask for her help, because if he doesn’t they might actually lose this time.

This is how the exchange continues:

Lady Noire: And I admit that I like wearing your costume. It's a lot lighter on the shoulders. (They hide behind a chimney) Mister Bug: I'll never be able to do this without you, my Lady.

They are having two completely different conversations from their respective POVs and neither of them notices.

The episode ends with Marinette helping Adrien save the day… by telling him what to do. It works, as a short term solution. But on the long term… the underlying issue isn’t resolved. I don’t think this is an accident.

I’ve already talked about the way this thread is further developed in Chat Blanc and the Special, but a lot of s3 episodes touch on it in more or less overt ways. It’s kind of one of the main arcs of the show, I’d argue the most important arc relative to the development of Marinette and Adrien’s relationship.

In particular, I think Adrien’s enthusiasm at being chosen, and his desperation not to have to admit defeat in Desperada make even more sense in light of the conclusion he’s reached at the end of Reflekdoll. Same for his behavior in the footage we see of LB and CN fighting before the memory wipe in Oblivio. That’s pretty much the most blatant case of Chat not taking things seriously we’ve ever seen, to the point it almost looks out of character… except it’s not if you take into account that Reflekdoll taught him he truly is useless and Ladybug can do both of their jobs better than him.

And finally, Miracle Queen hints at what the resolution of this particular conflict can be. Chat being hit with the realization that actually Ladybug DOES need him at least sometimes, even now that she’s grown into her role and fine-tuned her routine almost to perfection, she still does fail sometimes and when she does… She trusts him to see her failure. She looks to him for guidance. And the moment is right now, and there’s really no time to feel scared or inadequate, because he told Ladybug they can still win the day and she believed him, she trusted him, and so he has to believe in himself too.

Like many of the moments of triumphs on this show, it’s not a definitive victory. It’s not like Adrien conquered his fear of failure and got rid of all of his self loathing permanently in one clean swoop there. But he did make some real progress. He made some more in the special. His character arc doesn’t end here, nor it should. The journey’s still long, and there’s room to keep moving forward.

#yueasuka #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #reflekdoll

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ruinedbynegan · 5 years

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Closer: Chapter 30

Much to my (and Negan’s) dismay, Monday arrived, effectively separating us for the majority of the day. But we would see each other again tonight. After our night at the lookout spot, I took Negan back to the house, where we went our separate ways. He seemed to take my rejection well, although he did adjust his pants quite a few times, but I pretended I didn’t notice. I think in his eyes, our “courtship” was more of a test to see who would lose their resolve first. He promised me thirty days of his company in order for me to realize that I wanted him. But after last night...I didn’t need thirty days. I knew I wanted him. Badly. But I’d be damned if I was going to give into him that easily.

Due to my constant thoughts revolving around Negan, my day at work flew by and I felt myself driving home just a little faster. I was excited to see him again. More so, now that a barrier had been lifted, now that he truly knew who I was and who I had been, I felt like I could truly be myself. I could tease him and openly flirt with him. All without my tragic backstory and a sense of guilt looming over my head.

When I got home, I found him sitting in the living room with Cameron. Negan was turned with his back towards me, but I noticed the change in posture, the breath that he released when he sensed me in the room. And then he turned around, looking at me over his shoulder, and gave me the most charming smile I had ever seen. There was so much conveyed in his expression. So much promise in what the future might hold for us.

For the first time in a while, it felt like I had something to look forward to, this new and uncharted territory of companionship and intimacy that I had never known before. In the beginning, my depression had gotten the best of me. I had found myself falling into these toxic thinking traps where there was nothing but darkness and no sign of light. But somewhere along the way, light began to shine through, and I stopped falling into those traps that had once consumed me. Instead, I continued on. I began to see alternatives and considered them all with a sense of excitement.

Negan and I began to fall into a routine. I would spend the majority of my day at work and when I got home, he’d be there waiting for me. With some direction from my brother on my part, I’d make us dinner, Negan accepting his role as my helper in the kitchen. He would move around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and putting them away after I used them. We would all sit at the table, Cameron included, and eat. And we laughed about anything and everything. Negan’s bravado was infectious, even to my brother. One night in particular, I had gazed at the two of them fondly, glad that they were getting along, and for a moment, I realized that I considered them both mine in different ways.

After the laughter subsided, Cameron would dismiss himself to his room and Negan and I would do the dishes, him occasionally splashing me with the water to elicit a round or two of giggling from me. And then, we’d find ourselves lounging on the couch, getting lost in the familiarity that came with being with each other. We’d watch movies together, Negan laughing at my profound love for horror movies, good and bad, and conspiracy theory videos. I discovered that he, like most other guys, liked action movies, specifically because he “loved to see shit blow up.” And we’d talk, our conversations more intimate than the ones at the dinner table. I talked openly about myself, feeling comfortable sharing my likes and dislikes with him. Negan seemed intrigued by getting to know me, prodding me for details on my opinions and my past experiences. I learned a few things about him too, like his love for baseball and classic rock music. He also talked about his job as a coach, helping those kids that he felt were lost and needed a sense of direction. The things he told me about himself were superficial, not talking about the details of his past or transformation. I understood and respected that, trusting that he would tell me when he was ready, just as I had. It seemed like with each passing day, Negan would grow more comfortable with me. His eyes twinkled and shined brighter when I’d enter the room and his smirk was always present on his face, annoyingly adorable dimples and all. Things were progressing between us.

Well, kind of.

We hadn’t done anything physical. There were embraces that lingered every night when he left. And I found myself often intertwining my fingers with his just because it felt right. It was all so PG, which I knew wasn’t Negan, given his past polygamous tendencies. But he didn’t say anything, which to me, was surprising. Even more surprising was that he allowed me to be the one to initiate all physical contact with him. There was some comfort in that and it reiterated his point of not forcing me into this and waiting for the moment where I would admit to him that I wanted him.

And I knew I did. I felt it every time I was with him, the way my body would respond to his. But a part of me was afraid to tell him. Not out of fear of rejection, but fear of disappointment. My past sexual experiences had been lackluster to say the least, and I truly didn’t understand what I liked in the bedroom. I had a vague idea of what I would like, but had never experienced it. I feared that my inexperience would clash with Negan’s sexual prowess.

Before I knew it, the work week was over. Negan and I would have the entirety of the weekend to spend with each other and further explore our relationship. As I drove home Friday evening, I found myself rather nervous at the prospect, the feelings of inadequacy taking over and clouding my mind.

Cameron had dismissed himself for the weekend, probably thinking that I needed to get laid. And god, did I. But right now, it felt like being intimate with someone was beyond my comprehension. Especially when that someone was Negan.

I wasn’t surprised when I walked through the back door and found Negan lounging on the couch, feet up and a beer in hand. The sight of him so comfortable in my house made me feel a little more at ease. When he felt me in the room, he turned his head to look at me and stood, putting his drink down and making his way over to me for our usual embrace. He gave me one of my favorite smiles and as usual, waited for me to come to him. And I did. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I couldn’t resist.

“Doll, you are a goddamn sight for sore eyes!” He said.

I smiled widely at him as I closed the distance between us, my arms moving to wrap around his torso as usual. But before I could lock my arms around him, I felt myself in the air and squealed at the sudden action. Negan laughed at my response as he picked me up and pulled my body up to his, gently swinging me around in a circle. It absolutely melted my heart.

I couldn’t help but giggle as his stubble met the crook of my neck and tickled me as he inhaled my scent. I wrapped my arms around his neck, which was a first given our height difference. I breathed him in and damn if it wasn’t the best smell in the world. The smells of leather and spice that lingered on his skin, along with a scent I couldn’t quite describe because it was pure Negan. He pulled his head back and I did the same, our faces hovering closely as he still held me flush against his body. I found myself becoming extremely aware of his body pressed against mine, the firmness and heat of it making me dizzy.

“Hi,” I said. “Good day?”

He smirked at me. “It is now.”

I smiled back at him. “Mmm. You’re in a good mood,” I said commenting on his playful demeanor.

Negan shrugged his eyebrows. “Can’t a man be happy that his girl is home?”

I giggled, deciding to return his flirting. “Your girl, huh? I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“Shit Carson, you’ve been my girl since the moment I saw you.”

I swooned at his words, taken aback by the sincerity in them. And a part of me knew that he was right. I was his girl.

It hadn’t been thirty days. Hell, it hadn’t even been two weeks. But I knew what I wanted. And I knew what I had to do.

Tags: @haleyea, @wolfangelwings @negan-jdm-winchester

#negan #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead negan #twd negan #jeffrey dean morgan #negans thirst squad #negan x oc #negan x original female character #negan fanfiction #negan x carson

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kimberlylam1997 · 4 years

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likenessofwolf-blog · 7 years

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Victor said that if they could manage to build something out of the wreckage of their former lives, they’d be some sort of heroes. That was a hard pill to swallow for a twenty-one year old kid who had regular, half-remembered but disturbing nightmares of a car crash, but Victor was not perturbed. Boston, he said, was their oyster. Nevermind that Frederick was there for school and Vic only couch surfing and lucking out with the fact that he was momentarily the only one in his dormitory. Freddie had been a fool to think he could just walk away from it all, his brother, the neighborhood, and not be followed. After a few weeks, the things Victor said were beginning to make a sort of sense. He found himself slipping back into an old role he had believed college would help shake him of. Maybe he was right; it didn’t have to be the typical path. They could emerge triumphant their own way.

“Boxer or the bag.” Victor was especially fond of that one and like most of his favorite things he’d impressed it on his kid brother.

Victor was sitting on the edge of the bottom bunk at one side of the room with his elbows on his knees, watching The Highlander. It was the afternoon movie, and had all the good bits edited out for the daytime slot. It played on Freddie’s tiny, dorm television with snowy reception in slightly adjusted but familiar scenes.

“I don’t know why you’re watching that.” Referring to the loss of meaning inherent with the edit and nodding his scruff covered chin in the direction of the screen.

Victor made a face as if he were aware of the inadequacy, but admitted to nothing. Instead, he pulled a cigarette with had been waiting for him between the crook at the top of his ear and the knitted hem of his beanie. He tilted his head to the flame in the cupping of his palm while he thought of something else to say. “We’re going out tonight.”

Freddie didn’t argue with that part. If Vic had his mind set on tying one on there was no stopping him. He was like their old man that way. Three or four bourbons in and he was everyone’s friend. The most charming and good looking man in the room who seemed to magnetize women with the barest glimpse of his darkness. Passing the half-dozen mark and he got reckless. That was when they bet too high when Freddie wasn’t sure of the count and, too often, washed out. More than ten, they’d both end up bloody and breathing hard, sharing a nearly forgotten, luke warm pint sized glass bottle in the alley.

Victor had an invitation from a girl he described as having golden hair and long legs to come to Grendel’s Den – a bar in Cambridge, near the university square and well out of their depth. BU guys were not precisely the top of the food chain in that neighborhood and Victor wasn’t even that, but somehow there they were. It was not all that different than the way – a few days later – he’d show up with a stolen cable box and smug expression, swiftly solving the problem of bad reception and afternoon movies. No explanation as to how he worked the magic; it just was like that.

Freddie was an imitator. He practiced and practiced, absorbing every word shared, until he mastered each and every trick. But it was never natural magic for him. Slight of hand was the attractive cousins of conning. Freddie learned them through methodology. If you could conceal an ace, you could steal a watch. If you could keep someone’s eyes on yours, they weren’t watching any of the fifty-two cards. I also helped if you could count.

“Aw – C’mon, show them, Freddie. Be a pal. Show us the trick.” Victor knew how it worked, of course, but he had his arm slung around his statuesque blonde and put on the show for her sake.

Freddie was huddled around his beer. He wore tattered denim and a long sleeved black shirt with logo so faded it was no longer discernible what band it belonged to. The back was a little clearer – Tour 1999 – and a list of cities touched. He did not fit in with the sweaters and roman alphabet crowd, but Victor’s girl had her sister with her who had the same coltish, long limbs but was a few inches shorter dark, pixie cut hair and doe eyes. She piped in and won him over.

“Yeah, c’mon, Freddie. Show us.” She smiled sweetly.

“… Yeah. Okay. Alright. Here…” He reached out to take her by the wrist first, then her sister. Each girl was stood apart by several feet but facing each other by his direction. He cleared his throat and tried to deepen his voice, sound commanding. It was very simple magic, but he started while looking at the little fairy girl and nearly lost his train of thought. They did not even notice.

To the blonde, without turning, he said, “You… You’re going to keep your eyes open and stand here, because you are our witness,” then he focused on her sister.

“It’s important here you listen to my instructions exactly. This is all about connections. Like the one between you and your sister… “ He helped ease her into place against an unoccupied spot on the wall where she’d be mostly out of the way of drunks during the process. “Or you and me.” He smiled there and the way she blushed up at him said he was doing something right. “Now, you’re going to close your eyes and just focus on that. Connection.” She did.

Freddie allowed himself only a second to admire the dusk around her dark lashes before turning to her tow-haired sister.

“Now… “ He only mouthed the word as he approached. With one long fingered hand he gave her a silent but heavy with meaning push – two fingers center left chest over the blonde’s heart. Firm enough she was nudged back and had to steady herself by planting her feet. As he did so, his other hand raised a single digit up to his lips – shh. No one made a sound and for a moment it seemed as though even the ambient noise of the pub had been turned down a notch.

He turned once more, centering himself between the girls. Victor had a wolf’s smile slashed across lightly bearded features. There were only a handful – perhaps twenty five or thirty, but arguably even less – tricks like this one which relied on mentalism as much as they did deft handiwork. This was one of the oldest, and simplest. He knew just how they worked. Still he liked something about seeing his little brother put his flair to it, a bit different every time.

“Alright. Open your eyes. She did and met his smile with a dreamy one of her own. “Now tell us what you felt.

There was a moment’s hesitation as if she wasn’t certain she trusted her own senses enough and feared she was wrong, then - “I felt someone tap me over the heart.”

Her sister clapped both hands over her mouth and squealed, wide eyed.

“What?” The pixie was confused. Had she gotten it wrong? “Someone touched me.”

Victor was laughing loudly and throwing back his beer. This never got old.

“Did you know he was going to do that? How did he do that? Holy shit.” His date was still wide eyed, but now turning her focus to him, demanding answers to how her sister felt through her while ten feet away with her eyes shut.

“Someone explain!” The brunette pleaded, now looking to Freddie imploringly, distressed by her sister’s shock.

“While your eyes were closed, I poked your sister in the chest. You felt me poke you.” Not a single lie to be found. Only slight of hand.

Now it was her turn to cover her mouth and stare. The rest of the night Freddie felt like he’d gotten away with something that went above and beyond pick-pocketting or hustling cards. She looked at him like he was some sort of magic. Progressively, but pretty quickly, the brunette – her name, he learned, was Katie – got closer until she was hanging with both of her arms up around right. She was clinging to it so naturally it would seem like they were long-time lovers and giving him big, brown eyed stares of admiration. Frederick felt like a fraud.

Three months later he and Katie were a regular thing. They hadn’t put a title on it, but it was clear they were both comfortable and attracted. They spent most nights together in one or the others tiny living space, huddled on twin beds and barely dressed. She read voraciously and he enjoyed watching her do it while they both should have been sleeping. His own sleep had never much improved and he didn’t mind being kept up by her. None of it was perfect, but it was pretty good and laced with the easy acceptance of youth and inexperience.

That night, Victor dropped by with a pizza and beer to watch the fight on cable. Their guy won, and that lead to a long night of his brother reminiscing about his own time in the ring and if only he’d kept at it instead of squandering his talent and youth. Twenty-six and already an old man in his own estimation. Katie slunk off to bed first, bored of listening to the boys talk and class in the early morning across town. Freddie joined her a bit more than an hour later with a belly-full and fuzzy-headed. He dropped in beside her and right into a fitful, uneasy sleep.

He was in the wreck again. The cabin of his father’s car filling rapidly with icy water and unable to move. His chest was being crushed again against the white-wall seats by the steering wheel. He could feel the broken ribs and punctured lungs filling with fluid of their own. If the cold lake water didn’t do it, internal bleeding would have, but he was not thinking at all about the pain. He would have chewed his own limb off like a trapped animal if he could have gotten to her then, his panic was so great. She was unconscious and he watched as her perfect mouth and nose slipped beneath the rise of water first with terror gripping his heart.

“Freddie! Goddamnit. Wake up!” He was being shaken.

When open and blinking wide his eyes were the color of ice water filtered through glass. Suddenly alert. He came to with such a jolt that he knocked her forcibly back with one arm. Katie in her heart-spotted underwear and his Joy Division shirt sprawled against the mattress on her rear, catching herself against the heels of her palms behind her. Her surprise and fear was all over her face, but quickly replaced with irritation.

“What the fuck, Freddie!”

“I’m sorry.”

He still wasn’t all there. Senses kept trying to trick him and go back to where he had been. His heart was hammering and he could not catch a full breath. He’d sat up too, and rubbed his eyes with one hand while reaching for her with the other. She retracted from it with a scornful look and he felt the shame of it making the tears he was only narrowly averting harder to hold back. His eyes clouded over.

“I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t mean to scare you, Katie. I didn’t hurt you, did I? …Please don’t be that way. I just… “ He had tried to explain it to her before as best he could and she’d been bored at best, unsympathetic at worst. She wasn’t a bad person, he knew it and cut her all the slack he could; she simply didn’t understand. In his frustration with knees drawn up slightly and arm cast over them, he let out a broken exhale as the other hand came up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“Jesus. If only you could call up this sort of emotion for anything in our lives.” She was up and on her feet a minute later, yanking on her pants and finding her shoes and bags.

“I have class.” The moment she said it Freddie stopped expecting to ever see her again. Three months was a good run. He did not try to stop her.

Later, alone in bed, he tried to shut his eyes and reconnect with the dream. So much of it had already faded as it always did. What he remembered was only due to the repetition of imagery. It came to him in flashes, but always from behind a curtain. The harder he tried to grasp it, the more it slipped away. No one could help him capture the truth of it, and he could not help himself. Depression began to take hold.

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