#its just also inherently embarrassing because he is my dad
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How the LGI MV proves MonoTVid is both canon and a doomed ship
In this totally serious analysis post, I will show you, with 100% irrefutable evidence, that MonoTVid (the common ship name for MonoTV x David) is destined to be both canon and a doomed ship. This is in honor of them recently winning that one poll in The Website Formerly Known As Twitter, a poll which I do not entirely understand but one which I will respect regardless.
I will not accept any criticism on this post. I am objectively correct. If you find mistakes in this post, then what you’ve found is a mistake in your brain.
Obviously a TV, Obviously a Ship
Observe.
Now, do you understand?
If you don’t, let me spell it out for you. We have what is “obviously a TV” with terrorist iconography, which obviously represents MonoTV, nearby several elements which clearly represent David. The hair clips, the megaphone, the dummy. You’ll see “dummies” is plural, because David is a dummy. This is the first clue to the tsundenderish nature of David, as he is literally calling himself a “baka”, perhaps even of the sussy variety. If he calls himself “baka”, could he use the same word to describe someone else?
But the true indication of this ship is the lemon on top of the TV. See, the lemon in the story “Lemon” by the man who wrote the story “Lemon”, whoever he was, is a lemon which represents, despite being a lemon, a person’s will to live. If you want further context on this lemon, read the background text near the lemon when the lyric “make a lemon bomb” shows up on screen, near the lemon. You think I’m gonna post an image of the lemon text near the lemon? No. You should know the lemon text near the lemon by heart.
Anyways, this lemon is obviously on top of the TV to represent that MonoTV is David’s reason to live. There are no other possible interpretations.
But you may also see those dandelions, labeled “weeds”. Weed is what I’m taking to make this post. Not cannabis, I am sniffing dandelions. This is besides the point.
Now, you’ll realize that since dandelions represent happiness, and even hope, the point the video tries to make with them is that David sees these things as annoying weeds. This shows MonoTV and David both hate hope. They are clearly lovers.
But what you didn’t notice, and I know you didn’t notice for I am in your walls, is footnote 18: “A/N: soz not very good at drawing flowers lol!!!”. See, David is the author of these notes, which is obvious from things like footnote 11, the “I am an only child” one. What this footnote means is that David gave these flowers to MonoTV, but he’s embarrassed about it, because he doesn’t think any gift can match the divine splendor of MonoTV. David is just that sweet. That much of a cinnamon roll who can do no wrong. A skrunkly. A blorbo. What other words can I use to brainwash Tumblr users.
Now, look at these.
Look at the balloon and the Monokuma plushie. Does my inconsistent coloring of “the” bother you? I am very evil. You’ll see the balloon is labeled “stupid kid’s toy”, while the plushie is “a popular toy”.
Now, you might think this is another indication that David sees anything related to hope, like balloons, as inherently childish and stupid. Meanwhile, he sees anything related to despair, like Monokuma, as more grounded.
You are wrong.
You seem, MonoTV has stated Monokuma is its dad. So this being in the video means that MonoTV is David’s daddy and his toy. I’ll explain when you’re older. Just kidding, I won’t. Fuck that.
Not convinced?
Why? I am always right, so you shouldn’t doubt me.
But okay, I guess:
I Will Bring Up Color Theory For The Thousandth Post In A Row
I am not linking the accirax post for the fiftieth time. Look it up yourself.
Look:
Yellow for David, cyan for MonoTV. Many have tried to come up with an answer for what “original” means, but it’s actually really simple.
See, David has an I. You wanna know who else has an I? Dark blue, which may be J. And J is the mastermind. Here’s the source for that, it’s somewhere in that video, you just have to find it.
So, J, who is the mastermind and thus essentially MonoTV, has the same letter as David. This clearly shows David and MonoTV are lovers.
Here’s another case of a cyan I.
Boom. Theorizing’s easy.
Then, look.
David has game in yellow, then MonoTV has game in cyan. They’re lovers. Do you find another explanation? No, no you don’t. You will not think critically about this post. You are not immune to MonoTVid propaganda.
But, alas, the ship is not to last.
David is a Cat
At the beginning of the video:
David calls himself a cat, then MonoTV shows up to remind us it’s a dog. You might think it doesn’t mean much, but there actually is meaning behind David being a cat. See, it’s related to the archaic Japanese pronoun “wagahai”, referenced-
Nah, you don’t care about that. David’s a cat, source just trust me bro.
That’s what the black and white cat sitting next to David actually represents: David, tied by color scheme to MonoTV. I’m writing this on my phone and don’t feel like waiting to get to a computer to get past the 10 image limit, so we’re out of visuals.
Why is this important? Well, if you take into account the Romeo and Juliet quote that footnote 8 is attached to (here’s a screenshot), it’s clear the MV is trying to convey a story of two people in love separated by fate. This is clearly about David and MonoTV, which is further represented by David being represented by a cat when MonoTV is obviously a dog. Truly sad. Can I get an amen?
Are you not convinced yet? Crazy. Well, one last thing then.
It’s All Democratic
“To be or not to be? Who knows? Let’s decide! Democratic-ly”
You see how the rules for class trials are on the same image as democratic-ly? Well, this is a clear reference to the poll on The Website Formerly Known As Twitter. Since MonoTVid was chosen as the winner of said poll, it was chosen “democratically”, and will thus become a canon doomed ship. You might wonder if this means the dev has the ability to see the future. But we are not to speculate on the dev’s identity, so while we can’t theorize they are clairvoyant, we also can’t speculate they aren’t. Checkmate.
In fact, The Website Formerly Known As Twitter is now sometimes referred to as “X”, an obvious reference to the X on this screen. Because surely no one would be so absolutely idiotic as to just name the website “X” for no reason.
But hold on, isn’t this X actually Roman numeral 10 for Min?
Well, obviously. We never saw Min’s corpse in her execution, which means she survived and is the second mastermind alongside J. Min is still alive. Min is still alive. Min is still alive. Min is still-
Am I a Whit Young kinnie, but specifically for Min? No, obviously. Because Min isn’t like Whit’s mom, because Min is still alive.
The point is, Min is related back to MonoTV through her mastermind-y nature, and MonoTV to MonoTVid, I’m too lazy to actually continue writing this post.
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Did you actually read this all the way to end? Are you okay? Do you need a hug? Because this is insane. I don’t know why I made this. Take care!
#drdt#danganronpa despair time#david chiem#monotv#monotvid#i went insane from reading too much#actually what the fuck am i doing#shitpost
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this is way sweeter (and longer) than my usual thing but hear me out
max presents as a cat omega soon after he turns 21, right before the start of the 2019 season. his f1 career is over, his father throws him out on the street. charles, who's just gotten a double glow up (ferrari and presenting as an alpha) and is about to start his first season in red, finds max curled up in on himself in a monaco backalley. there are a hundred reasons why he shouldn't be taking an omega into his home, and even more why he shouldnt be taking his childhood rival in. however, charles' inherent kindness saviour complex wins and he gathers max in his arms and takes him to his apartment
he takes care of max, bathes him, grooms his ears and tail, pets him gently, makes sure he's healthy and fed, all the time coaxing the clearly traumatised omega out of his shell
soon max makes himself at home and he doesn't want to leave. he feels angry and embarrassed at having to be taken care of, but. it's the first time anyone's been kind to him since he presented. charles is good and safe and warm and he wants to stay and be good for charles - if he cant have racing anymore at least he can have this
maybe max even gets separation anxiety and has to go to all the races with charles, and the drivers are all surprised at how clingy he is, but anytime one of them tries to makes comments or have a go at max charles immediately turns protective. he says it's protective - max knows he's possessive, especially when charles brings up the idea of a collar, but he doesn't mind at all. not when he himself is hissing at omega drivers and fans who get a little too close to charles for his liking behind his back. he won't let anyone take this away from him.
(and he has a brand new red collar now.)
Oh yes! Max presenting as Omega and getting fluffy little cat ears and a tail and he thinks he looks quite pretty, but he quickly turns wary again because he knows his dad wont like it. And then Jos throws him out and he loses his F1 contract too and is just thrown onto the street with nothing. Charles finds him days later, cold and scared and alone. Max hissing at Charles and being scared but softly agreeing when Charles tells him he can come stay with him.
Charles bathing Max and Max is really embarassed at Charles helping him so intimately but he also cant really object because charles gives him kindness and no one else does. Charles brushes his ears and tails, shaves his legs, and then shaves Max's pussy too, saying its omega hygiene to have to do that. Max is blushing like crazy but likes being fussed over, even if its from an alpha with a saviour complex. Charles feeds him and makes sure he gains a little weight, and gives him blankets to nest in. SSure its embarassing being naked or only wearing Charles's clothing most of the time. The sex doesnt start for a while, although Charles does touch him sometimes, especially when he is bathing Max, rubbing his pussy a little and making sure Max is healthy enough to slick up like a healthy omega!
Max needing Charles so bad and he cries the first time Charles leaves for a race, his body aching for Charles and he refuses to eat until charles comes back, so after that, Max always comes along! Charles being possessive of Max but Max is almost worse the other way around and wears the red collar with the little bell with pride!
Love this!
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okay but the fact your dad knows about your little meow meow queer activist mage is so sweet :')
Yeah :)
#genuinely i do appreciate that he speaks positively about my interests and that he like#is enthusiastic about telling other people that he thinks im cool or whatever#its just also inherently embarrassing because he is my dad#such is life!
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Gordie :>>
My dumbass forgot I blogged a character thing 0.2 seconds ago and was like gonna be like omg yes so true bestie ! but now i remember it so here.
First impression: omg its sans undertale!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Impression now: he is my dad and I love him so much. He is unfortunately not Sans but thats ok because Sans is that other skeleton guy and Papyrus is there too. Ummmm anyway Gordie was the adult with the most braincells since he saw the system for what it was and expressed concern for the younger people who were getting wrapped up in it's shit and I think that's very poggers. He is a good good man and a good dad and would give the best hugs I know this. Also! Great to see some good adoption rep :) I love you Gordie <333
Favorite moment: I am not caught up on the podcast yet but the moment where he tells Fitzroy that he's sorry for how everything is :') GOOD DAD I CARE HIM he saw this wild magic barbarian villain and went "i think he could use some scones." and that's a beautiful thing.
Idea for a story: Ohhhhh I would love to write about like Gordie finding Rainer and learning how to take care of her anD LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN I LOVE THEM SO MUCH OK MORE ABOUT THIS SOON
Unpopular opinion: I think that Gordie has two moms and their names are Reina and Chrys (short for Chrysanthemum bc I love my flower symbolism) and Reina was a Lich Queen and Chrys worked for the Raven Queen and they had epic battles and whoops they fell in love and Chrys ran away to kiss Reina on the lips and they found Gordie and adopted him and they're kinda on the run from the Raven Queen but they're having fun and that's what counts. I think about this a lot.
Favorite relationship: OKAY IT'S SOON NOW so basically Gordie and Rainer's father-daughter relationship makes me cry. Like he sees himself in her because they were both abandoned at a young age due to their necromancer abilities and they can relate to one another in a real specific way which GOD is such good representation???? because not only does it cover the inherent trauma of adoption in a way that doesn't demonize it but also they portray it in a positive light without it being inspiration p0rn and it's just so good to see!!! and the way Gordie is worried for Rainer not because he doesn't think her to be capable, but because the world is Fucked Up and he wants her to be herself without having to fit into a mold AND GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH crying and shaking.
Favorite headcanon: Gordie is the sort-of-embarrassing-but-lovable type of dad. Rainer brings home a girl and Gordie is like oh what a nice young lady and makes them like fifty snacks and Rainer is like thanks dad we have enough snacks now and he's like well you're a growing girl! and makes twenty more. He checks in on them like every ten seconds asking if they need anything because he lives in a crypt okay he doesn't get a lot of visitors and he is just Excited To Have Guests!!! And It's Someone Who's With Rainer And Oh Rainer My Daughter Is So Sweet Have You Seen These Baby Pictures Of Her Look Baby's First Reanimation. and Rainer is like OK THANK YOU DAD GOOD NIGHT LOVE YOU BYE and the girl who she brought with her is just smiling the whole time because both of them are wonderful dorks. (also girl is zana).
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my heart told me to need you, so I do
Rusty Quill Gaming, Zolf/Oscar, G, 18-month time gap, fluff and angst, the inherent intimacy of having someone's fingers in your hair
Also on ao3!
“Wilde? Thought you could use a break. Brought you some tea.” Zolf came into the small room of the inn Wilde had claimed as an office, brandishing a clay teapot with a towel wrapped around its handle and two small teacups.
“What, nothing stronger?” Wilde asked, glancing only briefly up from his papers.
Zolf snorted. “Wouldn’ta thought you’d be the sort to get drunk before noon. ’specially not with all the—” he gestured at the piles of work in front of Wilde, setting the cups down on the one clear corner of the desk.
“Mm, you should’ve known me in my university days. Tea sounds lovely, though, thank you, Mr. Smith.”
As he’d gotten more and more into his work that morning, Wilde had propped his head on his right hand, absentmindedly tucking his fingers up into his hair. Now, as he set down his quill and went to sit up, he found his fingers caught in the countless tangles and snarls there, and he hissed a soft curse as the movement tugged on his oversensitive scalp.
Zolf, pouring tea, looked abruptly up at Wilde’s pained noise.
Wilde carefully extracted his hand from his hair, untangling a ring that’d gotten snagged, waving Zolf off with his left.
Zolf’s eyebrows crept further and further up his forehead. “You alright there, Wilde?” he asked, with a smirk in his voice even if it wasn’t quite on his face.
“Fine, fine,” Wilde breezed, shifting in his chair and reaching for a teacup.
Zolf’s gaze steadily worked its way over his head and face, taking in his appearance—no doubt he had some hideous dark smudges beneath his eyes—and the wrinkles on Zolf’s brow deepened. Wilde blew over the top of the teacup, disturbing a curl of steam, and took a delicate sip, preparing his rote response: Don’t worry about it, Zolf, I’m fine, stop asking.
“Wilde…. when was the last time you brushed your hair?”
The question caught Wilde off guard. How long had it been? He’d gotten rather used to his hair being short, but it’d grown back considerably since… since Damascus. Since—mentally, Wilde gritted his teeth—since Grizzop had chopped it all off.
All these months later, and you’re still barely able to think their names. He berated himself every time. You lost them. They’re gone and it’s your fault, and you can’t even think their names?
“Does it matter?” he said out loud, realizing how long a pause there’d been. He took another sip of his tea. Academically, he knew it was jasmine, probably perfect, prepared just the way he liked it, but he couldn’t taste it at all.
“Does it… well, no, I guess not really.” Zolf crossed his arms, voice deliberately even. “I was just wonderin’ why your hair looks like there might be a rat or two livin’ in it.”
“Flatterer.”
“I’m serious, Wilde. You always seemed to—I dunno, take pride in your appearance before. You were meticulous. Fussy, really. So what happened?”
Wilde raised an eyebrow and tugged up one leg of his hakama, revealing the anti-magic cuff around his ankle.
“Oh, for the love of—do you not know how to take care of yourself without magic?”
Wilde only shrugged, not meeting Zolf’s eye. “It was easier back then, Zolf. I’ve been… busy, you know how it’s been.”
“It’s brushing your hair, Wilde, it’s not like you’re taking… I dunno, three-hour long bubble baths or something.”
Ooh, what I wouldn’t give for the chance…. Wilde gave an affected sigh and turned back to his paperwork, setting the empty teacup aside and picking up his quill. “Would that I had the time, Mr. Smith.”
Zolf stood in front of the desk in silence, arms crossed, while Wilde stared with unfocused eyes at the stacks of reports and made idle, useless marks with the quill, purposefully ignoring him.
After half a minute of increasingly belligerent silence, Wilde looked up at the stony-faced dwarf as if he’d just noticed him, and asked, as lightly and casually as he could, “Was there something else?”
Zolf’s nostrils flared. His mouth pursed. For all that he liked to play the stoic, he was actually rather easy to read. That, or Wilde had grown familiar enough with Zolf that he could sense tiny changes in his moods, a thought that both gave Wilde pause and made something warm and comfortable curl up, pleased, in the middle of his chest.
Zolf was still just looking at him. Wilde raised his eyebrows. “Zolf?”
“You need to take a bloody break, alright?”
“I am fine—”
“And,” Zolf continued, trampling all over the end of Wilde’s sentence. “I know how to do hair, so let me.”
Wilde’s mouth went inexplicably dry. He had to swallow twice before he felt like he could speak with anything approaching normalcy. “…What?”
Zolf’s nostrils flared again. Wilde would have smirked if he hadn’t been busy panicking.
“I said…” Zolf began, speaking slowly and clearly, “I’m actually pretty good at doin’ hair. My mum and dad, they—I’ve—well, I’ve had a lot of practice, right? It’s a—dwarves and braids, it’s a whole—” He blushed angrily, even though Wilde hadn’t said anything, and gestured to his own beard. “So… just, let me.”
By the time Wilde had gathered his wits enough to nod, a little dazed, Zolf had already left the room.
Wilde remained sat at the desk, hands pressed flat to its wooden surface to keep them from trembling. He was about to have Zolf’s fingers in his hair. Zolf, who’d been a constant, solid, steady presence in his life for these past few months, obstinate and compassionate and deep-down good and whose wellbeing Wilde was rapidly coming to realise may be crucial to his own, who’d seen Wilde at his lowest and stayed with him anyway, had found Wilde the same week he’d finally accepted his team wasn’t coming back from Rome, and had cradled his broken pieces in his hands and forced him to hope… his head was getting away from him.
Point was, Zolf was about to be touching him. Quite a lot.
…how was he supposed to stand it?
Zolf’s heavy footfalls sounded in the hall, leaving Wilde with very little time to collect himself. Zolf returned to the room, holding a soft-bristled brush, a comb, and—gods—a bottle of his own hair oil. He stood behind a long, low couch, the place where Wilde slept when he couldn’t quite drag himself all the way down the hall to his bed, looking expectantly at Wilde.
Wilde tried to disguise his deep, steadying breath as a sigh of resignation. Despite his best efforts, it still hissed too quickly through his nose. He rose from his chair, spine popping and settling back into place after so many hours of hunching over his work, and he walked to the couch, perching in the middle, right at the edge of the cushion, hands folded neatly in his lap.
From this angle, Wilde was fairly confident Zolf couldn’t see his face. He allowed himself one moment to let his mouth fall open, one unsteady inhale as his fingers spasmed in his lap.
There was a frustrated grunt behind him. “Scooch back a bit, leggy git, can’t reach you from ’ere.”
Wilde swallowed. Settled further into the couch, stretching his long legs out. Rested his neck on the edge and let his head fall back.
And then Zolf’s fingers were there, brushing against the back of Wilde’s neck, and Wilde’s mouth went dry. Thick and gentle, calluses a little rough against Wilde’s skin, he started slowly at first. Took small lengths of Wilde’s hair, separating and lifting them away from his head, holding each lock firmly at the base so the comb didn’t pull as he softly teased out the tangles from the ends.
As he worked, he hummed thoughtfully, sometimes clicking his tongue and making little disapproving noises at the state of Wilde’s hair, sometimes muttering under his breath in concentration, little strings of “now how in the bloody hell did—” and “oh, for the love of—”
Wilde was grateful for Zolf’s noises, because there was a better chance they covered up his own. He had his teeth clamped down so hard on his tongue he tasted blood, trying to stifle the little gasps and back-of-the-throat sounds he refused to call moans, even in his own head. This was utterly ridiculous. Just because it’d been absolute ages since anyone touched him with any sort of kindness—and the person who currently had his fingers buried in Wilde’s hair just so happened to be the same person Wilde had been silently pining after for several painful months—didn’t mean he could completely lose his head.
Zolf worked his way from the ends up to the roots, from the left side of Wilde’s head around the back and to the right. Wilde let his eyes slide half-shut, wanting to luxuriate in the sensation but too on edge to let himself fully relax, sure he would do something truly embarrassing if he didn’t keep a tight rein on himself.
The comb snagged and pulled one particularly tender spot right at the nape of Wilde’s neck, yanking his head backwards. He gasped aloud, hands fluttering reflexively to his throat, knees jerking up below his chin. Zolf’s touch immediately gentled and he hissed through his teeth, muttering, “Sorry, sorry,” as he extracted the comb. Wilde fought to steady his breathing, clenching his fists at his sides.
“It’s fine,” he gasped, aware of how breathless he sounded and unable to do a thing about it.
Really, he was grateful for the pain. It provided a distraction from the truly lovely sensation of fingers in his hair, jolted him back into his body from where he’d been floating, a little untethered. He had to remain focused. He couldn’t afford to let anything slip out.
Soon, his hair felt smooth and lighter-weight than it had in some time, easing a headache he didn’t even know he had until it wasn’t there anymore. Zolf neatly parted it, switching to the soft-bristled brush and running it through each side. The hair curled in warm, gentle waves around Wilde’s face. He let his head tip forward, his breaths evening out as the brush stroked from roots to ends over and over, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Enjoy it now, because this cannot be allowed to happen again. You cannot allow yourself to fall in l—to care too deeply about him or else you are lost, you are compromised, and if you lose him, you will never be able to put yourself back together again—
The hairbrush paused. Wilde surfaced, realising belatedly that Zolf had been speaking to him, and was now waiting for a response.
He managed a questioning “hmm,” aiming for casual and missing by a mile. But anything other than a hum would’ve given away the crack in his voice. He tilted his head back. Zolf’s hands cupped his skull, gently supporting him.
Zolf snorted. Upside-down, Wilde had a great view of his wonderfully-expressive nostril flare. “I said, I’d like to use some hair oil on you. Jus’ didn’t want you startled.”
Wilde hummed an acknowledgement, letting his eyes drift shut again.
The pop of a cork, a quiet glugging, and the room filled with the smell of ginger and orange. Wilde swallowed reflexively. It was the same smell that followed Zolf around, the same oil that the dwarf used in his own hair before he’d cut it short, and still used in his beard.
So now Wilde was going to go around smelling of Zolf whenever he turned his own head. It would drive him utterly to distraction. And Zolf expected him just to be able to handle it?
Sure, it wasn’t as though he’d never entertained the idea of swiping one of the little bottles, sprinkling a drop or two on his wrists or his lapel—or his pillow—and returning it before it was missed. Especially when Zolf had been away on a mission for longer than expected, or, even worse, stuck in the anti-magic cell, and every day of the quarantine Wilde grew more paranoid, more certain that today’s check would be the time he found blue veins in Zolf’s skin, that this would be the day that proved his compan—his partn—his Zolf was gone.
But he’d never actually done it. He wasn’t quite that pathetic, thank you. Not yet. (And if Zolf truly had been turned, and Wilde had killed him, returning to a bed that smelled of him would’ve been… unimaginable.)
When those strong, blunt fingers stroked across the top of Wilde’s head, he did his best not to flinch. Zolf had obviously warmed the oil in his palms, and he smoothed it into Wilde’s hair, fingertips pressing down, digging in, massaging deeply into Wilde’s scalp. The ginger sent tingling warmth through his entire skull and answering shivers down the back of his neck.
Wilde released a held breath, letting his head fall back into the support of Zolf’s hands. He seemed to really be taking his time, giving Wilde one of the best scalp massages he’d ever had. Short nails scratched very gently at Wilde’s temples. Gooseflesh prickled down his arms. The smell of the oil saturated his senses. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open; they kept sliding shut completely without his input, narrowing all of his concentration down to Zolf’s fingers on his skin, Zolf’s smell in his head, Zolf’s care and attention enveloping him. Wilde started tensing and relaxing his thighs, clenching his fingers in the silky material of his trousers just to give himself something else to focus on.
It could have been anywhere from fifteen minutes to twelve days later when Zolf cleared his throat, a little awkwardly, and Wilde forced his eyes open. He felt… good. Almost as though he’d managed to doze off for a bit. His entire body was loose and relaxed, tingling warmth and lassitude in all his muscles. He lifted a hand languidly to his hair, which was smooth and soft, bound up in a loose, messy bun with a strip of cloth.
“Huh… no braid, Mr. Smith? I’m a bit surprised, I must say,” Wilde chuckled, syllables a little slack and rounded at the edges.
Zolf cleared his throat again. “Gotta let it sit first.” His voice was rough.
Wilde flopped his head to look in Zolf’s direction—it was extraordinary, it was like he had no motor control whatsoever. Zolf wasn’t looking at him, apparently totally focused on wiping the oil off his hands with a rag.
“I’ll just… go and get the innkeeper to draw you a bath. You’ll wanna wash your hair after it’s had some time to sit. Then I’ll… yeah. I’ll braid it.”
And Zolf left the room.
Wilde tilted his head back up, looking at the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling. He was more relaxed, more at peace than he’d been in… years. Luxuriating in the unfamiliar feeling of being well taken care of, of being given the chance to rest. It wasn’t that any of the problems Wilde needed to fix had gone away, they just… didn’t matter for the moment.
For the moment, he just sat in the middle of a cloud of ginger and orange, and breathed.
#rusty quill gaming#zoscar#i went 'hey i should write a dwarven hair braiding fic!' and then didn't even get to the braiding#that's for the sequel#i dont know if there's a rqg fic tag uhhh#zolf smith#rqg oscar wilde#rusty quill gaming fic#my fiction
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succession episodes rated by kendall cringe
Celebration: 8/10. Contains beastie boys rapping and ketchupping a burrito and "yeah dad im right in the middle of it" and its made all the stronger by being our intro to this embarrassment of a human being
Shit show at the fuck factory: 6/10 hes a bossy bitch but he is mostly just trying to get thru a crisis not a lot of time for cringe. A pattern emerges where the better time he is happening the worse he is
Lifeboats: 10/10. This is why kendall can't have nice days. This is what we get. Is this what u wanted people
Sad sack wasp trap: 6/10 logan spared him from getting a higher score by stealing his thunder. Little did he know the seeds he was planting for the future
I went to market: 5/10 mostly for the scene where he offers to make frank coffee because he let his staff have the day off for thanksgiving but he doesn't know where anything in the kitchen is so he just calls his maid in defeat
Which side are you on: 4/10 but I'm cringing out of unbearable suspense and anxiety rather than embarrassment
Austerlitz: 6/10 FAM-ILY THE-RA-PY! hes on drugs it gets worse from here on out
Prague: 9/10 I'm rebalancing from crypto into eco
Pre-nup: 3/10 hes really not that bad in this episode. Focusing too hard on stabbing his dad in the back
Nobody is ever missing: 6/10 kills a man by accident. Cringe af
The summer palace: 4/10 broken boy is broken but he still has his moments. Park coke anyone, also he looks goofy on the back of the bike
Vaulter: 6/10 its hard to cringe at a man who has lost all sense of shame and personhood but then he says he's looking for pussy like a techno gatsby and there's also that bit where he tells vaulter not to unionise
Hunting: 3/10 hes really too creepy here to be that cringeworthy.
Safe room: 1/10 crying too hard to cringe... i miss my embarrassing king
Tern haven: 7/10 there he is. My boy. "Are you like a poetess?" He says to someone who just quoted a line from Shakespeare. Then he literally shits himself 💕
Argestes: 2/10 (edited) he is barely cringe at all here and any moments he does have like his intimidation attempt or some of his panel antics get cancelled out by his big brother protective instincts and his ability to like do his job well
The return: 4/10 the inherent cringe of sitting in the kitchen of a boy you killed and washing out a glass of water like that will make up for what you did the tiniest amount..
Dundee: infinity/10 he makes up for lost time. It transcends the parameters, you're not even embarrassed anymore you reach a kind of nirvana
DC: 2/10 ken nailed it! Weird moment where he is in an okay place but also he is handling himself like a functioning adult about it. Enjoy it while it lasts i guess. Jk I want him to embarrass himself
This is not for tears: 1/10 muted not too cringey behaviour (except headphones and Panama hat) followed by scene that actually inspires RESPECT an opposite emotion to cringe? We thought we would never see the day
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A/N: This was supposed to be an entry for kinktober using the prompt : masturbation/getting caught... but it turned out cute. There is masturbation/getting caught in it, but it’s brief. Really it’s about Michael being cold and needing an extra blanket.
.
The desert was surprisingly cold at night. It didn’t help that it was early February and a cold snap had allowed the wind slip through every crack of the tool shed and had made its way under all three layers of Michael Guerin’s clothes and his sleeping bag. His muscles ached with how long he’d been shivering. This was the third night in a row and he was no closer to sleep than he had been the previous two nights with how hard his teeth were chattering. He looked through the dirty window of the shed towards the house and tried to decide if he thought it was worth the wrath of Jesse Manes to go ask Alex for another blanket or a space heater or something. It was well past midnight and the house looked dark and still. Michael knew which window was Alex’s because he’d pointed it out to him the first day he’d found that Michael had taken him up on his offer to in the shed occasionally.
“If you need anything, Guerin, just tap on the window. I’m right there. But be careful, my dad can’t know you’re staying here.”
Another gust of wind rattled the windows and sneaked under the collars of Michael’s multiple shirts. Deciding it was worth it this one time, Michael slipped out of the shed and clung to the deeper shadows around the fence line until he was at Alex’s window. He peaked in and saw Alex sitting at his computer desk with headphones on. Cursing silently, Michael decided to take his chances with breaking and entering. He worked his numb fingers along the edge of the window screen and as silently as possible pulled it off from the outside of the window. He tried to push up the window sash, but after a few grunting pushes realized Alex must have it locked. Nervously, he darted another look at Alex hoping that he’d seen him at the window, but Alex hadn’t moved from his spot at the computer. Michael pushed out with his mind to find the window catch so he could unlatch it. He found it and slowly slid over the mechanism so the window would unlock and then he pushed at the sash again. It slid open easily and without further ado he hoisted himself as noiselessly as possible through the window. This part he was good at from his frequent late-night visits to certain girls whose daddies would not approve of him.
He fell onto the bed with soft thump that he immediately froze after. He didn’t know how thin the walls were at Alex’s house, so he laid still and listened for all he was worth. No noise. No sounds of midnight stirrings or snores or anything but the hum of the heater. The heater. Michael almost let out a moan at the warmth that was soaking into him. He sat up and closed the window as quietly as he could before rolling off Alex’s bed and onto the floor. Curious as to why Alex wouldn’t have heard him or noticed all the movement in his room, Michael walked up behind him and checked out the computer screen that had stolen all his attention.
There were two guys on the screen, bodies ripped and naked, their skin gleaming with oil, and they were…. Yep, they were definitely fucking. Michael watched in fascination and shocked arousal as one of the dudes pounded into the other one, cock bigger than anything Michael had ever seen in the locker rooms at school, and the bottom guy apparently moaned and panted in appreciation. Michael gave a quick, wide eyed look towards Alex who he could now see was stripping his cock under the computer desk for all he was worth, eyes almost closed in concentration, and bottom lip caught between his clenched teeth. That was hotter to Michael than anything happening on the computer screen, but it wasn’t right that Alex didn’t realize he was there. He also had no clue how to make Alex aware of him without giving him a heart attack, but there wasn’t much Michael could do about that. He wasn’t about to climb back outside unless Alex made him.
Michael laid a hand tentatively on Alex’s shoulder and even though he’d braced himself for it, Alex’s subsequent jump and small yelp still made him reflexively jump back and hold his hands in front of him. When he opened his eyes from the protective squint he’d instinctually adopted, he saw Alex looking at him in shocked horror, half turned in his chair to face his intruder, ear phones tossed onto the desk and browser window gone. Michael tried not to note that his hand was still wrapped around his cock, but it was no use. Alex’s brain seemed to finally unfreeze, and he followed Michael’s eyes down and then yelped again, turning quickly and presumably stuffing himself back into his sleep pants.
“Dude!” Alex hissed in the darkness after he’d righted himself. “What are you doing in here?”
“I wanted to ask for a blanket. It’s fucking freezing tonight. It’s been freezing for the last week and my sleeping bag isn’t doing the job. I’m sorry to barge in, but you had your ear phones on and I didn’t want to risk waking your dad,” Michael explained in a rushed whisper, stepping closer to Alex so he could keep his voice as low as possible. As he got closer, he could see the faint sheen of sweat on Alex’s upper lip and the flush in his skin. He didn’t know if it was embarrassment, arousal, or both, but it looked good on him. He also smelled like musk, Irish Spring, and the red clay undernote that he seemed to always have on him. Michael licked his lips unconsciously as he looked him over. Alex watched him and licked his own lips, mirroring Michael’s actions unconsciously.
“I don’t have an extra blanket,” Alex replied finally, his voice so soft that Michael almost couldn’t hear him. It was more that he breathed the words than vocalized them. Michael’s heart sank as he contemplated having to go back out into the cold without something extra to keep him warm. Already he was starting to feel hot in the house from his multiple layers of clothes and he wanted to cry at the thought that the warmth he was feeling now would be leeched from him far too soon once he was back outside. Alex seemed to see his dilemma and his face fell in sympathy.
“Look, you can stay in here tonight. Only tonight. This is a huge risk. If my dad catches us we will both be buried in the desert by daybreak. But you’re right, it’s too fucking cold. I’ll see about getting you a space heater out there tomorrow. Do you want to sleep on the floor or do you mind sharing the bed?” Alex asked nervously eyeing his unmade covers. He had a full-sized bed so they wouldn’t have to be pressed together…not that Michael would have minded if they had.
“I’ll share the bed. I’m very good at looking like a pillow as long as the lights stay off,” Michael said, throwing Alex a wink and a grin to try and lighten the mood. Alex smiled back and rolled his eyes but nodded his head towards the bed in silent invitation for Michael to go ahead. Michael stood, eying Alex nervously, and stripped off his jacket and all but one of his overshirts. He pushed down his jeans and sweats until he was left in only his thermal underwear. He looked over to see Alex was watching him intently as he stripped, and Michael felt heat travel through him at being under scrutiny.
“Do you want the wall or the door?” Michael asked, trying to avoid Alex’s eyes and very aware of how little his threadbare thermals left to the imagination. Alex shook himself and looked up at Michael who was hugging himself now that he had so little on. As warm as the house was, he was getting a chill standing in only one thin layer of clothing.
“Uh… I better take the door in case someone comes barging in,” Alex mumbled, standing up finally. He was wearing a black zip up hoodie over his bare chest and soft looking black sleep pants. He unzipped his hoodie and threw it over the back of the chair. Michael had to physically pry his eyes off Alex’s dark pink nipples before scrambling onto the bed and shoving his body as close to the wall as possible without touching it. It radiated cold towards him and he shivered, glad he wasn’t still out in the shed trying to sleep. Alex turned off his desk lamp and shut his laptop down before crawling into bed after Michael. He laid on his back and both boys stared up at the dark ceiling, tense in the unfamiliar situation.
“I don’t think I snore but—” Michael started at the same time as Alex who said, “Look what you saw on my laptop—”
“You go first,” Michael said after they both stopped mid-sentence after interrupting each other. He rolled onto his side and scooted his body closer to Alex’s so they could keep their voices to a minimum volume. He also liked the warmth radiating from Alex’s bare skin and the smell of him. While he waited for Alex to start talking again, Michael felt himself with the wild urge to bend over and kiss Alex’s shoulder. Alex was surprisingly fit for someone who didn’t play sports or seem to be inherently athletic.
“What you saw on my laptop… I’m sorry. Obviously, I didn’t know I’d be having guests. I hope it didn’t make you feel…. Uncomfortable,” Alex finished the sentence lamely. He avoided Michael’s eyes and his fingers picked at the edge of his comforter while he spoke.
“Oh, that? While those dudes aren’t my type, it looked like they were having fun,” Michael joked, trying to let Alex know that he was cool with it. He hoped he’d pick up exactly how cool with it Michael was, but at Alex’s snort Michael decided to continue talking, “Looked like you were enjoying the show.”
Michael could see the flush of blood infuse Alex’s face even in the darkness of his bedroom. Alex brought his hands up and covered his face and Michael could hear him breathing an embarrassed sounding litany of “Oh God, oh God, oh God”s. Michael poked him in the rib gently and Alex squeaked, elbow coming down to try and block the move but hands staying firmly over his face.
“Alex, it’s fine,” Michael whispered, moving his body until there was only a scant inch between them and pulling at the arm nearest him to uncover Alex’s face. Reluctantly, Alex let Michael tug his hand away and he looked at him through the corner of his eye. He was still beet red and Michael basically thought it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen in his life. “Seriously. Like you said, you weren’t expecting visitors and… it looked like they were getting to the ‘climax’. I just hope I didn’t ruin your appreciation of what I’m sure was an amazing piece of American cinema.”
“You did not just make that terrible joke,” Alex said scathingly, trying and failing to look offended at Michael’s corny sense of humor. They shared a long look and started snickering quietly. “Besides, it was German.”
“Shh. It’s late. I’ve had maybe three hours or sleep in the last two days. Give me this one,” Michael sighed, head dropping onto the edge of Alex’s pillow. Alex shifted his body until he was on his side facing Michael from across the pillow top.
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize how cold the shed got. I really will get a space heater out there tomorrow. We’ve got an extra one in the garage that I don’t think anyone’s used in a couple years,” Alex said, looking apologetic.
“It’s okay. As long as you’ll let me stay here tonight,” Michael said with a small smile. Alex nodded and they stared at each other for another long moment in the dark. Michael knew this was when he could make his move. He could reach out and touch Alex’s cheek. He could brush his hand down his waist. He could do so many things that with a girl he might not hesitate over, sure of his reception, but laying in bed with Alex he was frozen. He didn’t want to press his luck or offend his friend. More than getting kicked back into the cold, he didn’t want Alex to think Michael expected things from him because he knew he liked guys.
“Goodnight, Michael,” Alex whispered finally, closing his eyes and letting his body start to relax. Michael kept watching him, yearning to lean over and kiss his forehead or cheek or nose or anything. Sighing at his own cowardice, he too closed his eyes.
“’Night, Alex.”
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citrus kisses
Darling, you don’t need to say what you mean, ‘cause your kisses taste like tangerines. Aka: cole’s love language is tart and sweet and reminds Kai of things he thought he’d lost.
hey uhhh so. I don’t write ninjago fic often but apparently when i do, it’s about the inherent romanticism of peeling an orange and also action-oriented love languages. anyway you know the drill. lavashipping, a bit over 2k words. unbeta’d bc we die like men.
The oranges that grew in Ignacia grew in huge groves.
It’s one of Kai’s only memories with his whole family: walking between his parents in the long aisles stretching between the lines of trees, Nya’s tiny, chubby hand clasped carefully in his own as she toddled along beside him. The smell of oranges was everywhere, and that day they picked enough to last them for weeks and weeks.
He can still recall his dad’s hands braced around his ribs as he hoisted Kai up to pick a Valencia orange bigger than his head from a high branch, eyes squinting against the bright sun on his face. He’d felt such pride that day, as he carried his treasure around for all to see.
He remembers summers of frothy fresh-squeezed orange juice in the morning, afternoons of fragrant orange cake, and evenings of carefully-partitioned segments that exploded juice on his tongue. His mom used to make ambrosia for Saturday morning breakfast, the orange slices piled high with coconut shavings and thick, fluffy whipped cream. She’d scold him when he peeled the oranges himself; his forceful little thumbs always dug too far into the flesh and sent the juice squirting everywhere. Instead, she clucked her tongue and peeled it for him with easy, deft movements while he sucked the stickiness off his fingers.
Those days—patchworks of hot nights and sunshine through the kitchen windows and the smell of citrus on his mother as she leaned in to kiss him goodnight—they’re days Kai can hardly remember the older he gets.
After his parents disappeared, no one took Kai and Nya to the Valencia groves; no one whipped the cream for ambrosia; no one lifted him to the highest branches for the best oranges. He simply had to wait until he was tall enough to reach them himself.
He doesn’t think about those memories very often, and Nya was so young, he doubts she remembers it at all. It’s not like he ever gets a summer off to return home either, so instead he lets the memory fade until it’s almost entirely forgotten. He locks it in the part of his brain that he’s sectioned off because it’s too painful to keep clinging to when things were that good. It’s okay.
The past tastes like oranges and coconut cream, and Kai has left it behind.
...
Kai forgets why they’re making a stop over Ignacia, but it just so happens that the nearest rural area place for them to moor is over the Valencia groves he had nearly forgotten about.
He stands at the front of the ship, leaning over the railing with his chin propped up on his pillowed arms to study the trees extending in every direction, the dark leaves bejewelled with not-quite-ripe January oranges. The sun overhead is more of a pale, cold disk, and Nya is somewhere below-deck, but it makes him melancholy anyway.
Footsteps approach from behind him—heavy but soft: Cole. He leans over the railing beside Kai, bracing his forearms against the wood as he surveys the landscape. “Hey. Whatcha doin’ out here, stranger?”
“Just lookin’,” he murmurs back. He hums to himself. “Did you know I used to come to this grove with my family as a kid?”
“I didn’t even know you liked oranges,” Cole replies, giving him a sideways glance. He smiles when Kai glances back, dark eyes crinkling. “Do you want to go down now? I’m sure we could grab a few and no one would miss ‘em.”
“Nah, that’s alright,” Kai says with half a grin. “They’re not ripe. And I don’t like oranges that much anyway. Too hard to peel. They just made me think about—things I hadn’t let myself think about for a while.”
“What kind of things?” Cole asks, nudging him with an elbow.
The touch grounds him and he’s grateful for it. He shrugs in a way that’s neither here nor there. “Just things. Home, I guess. My life? Before all the...ninja stuff.”
“Is that a good thing?” Cole tilts his head. In this light, his eyes turn from obsidian to sunlight through whiskey as he waits for an answer.
Kai makes a contemplative noise. “I don’t know. Hurts less than I expected, after everything. It’s bittersweet.” He sighs then, shoulders falling with the motion. “It really is making me miss oranges, though. I don’t know why I lied before—I really do like them.”
He looks back at the groves below and misses the look Cole gives him—measured and curious.
“What about you, do you like oranges?”
“Some. The sweet ones.”
“You’d like these ones, then,” Kai tells him, cheeks rising as he smiles. “The oranges from Ignacia are the biggest, sweetest ones around. They’re good just by themselves, but my mom made a mean ambrosia with them.”
“I bet Zane could replicate the recipe if you told him what it was,” Cole replies.
Kai just shrugs. “Maybe so. He’s sharp like that.”
They fall silent. Kai can physically feel Cole worrying about him and his rare bout of melancholy, so he squares his shoulders and musters up a grin. “Hey, Cole, you—,”
“You don’t have to,” is what Cole interrupts him with, paired with a weighted look that settles around him like a blanket. “I don’t mind the quiet. You’re allowed to, Kai.”
All the feigned bravado drains out of him. Kai stares at him for a second and wonders when Cole got so good at gauging his moods. There’s so many words unspoken inbetween what he says and that earnest, draping look in his eyes and Kai kind of aches with it.
“Okay,” he says instead, shoulders slowly falling. His chin dips to rest on his crossed forearms again and he leans into it when Cole slips as arm around him. “Okay.”
The nippy January wind dances around them, stirring their hair and whipping at their gis, but Kai tips his head against Cole’s shoulder and feels warm down to his toes.
...
“Holy crap, what the hell did you do?” Kai can’t help asking a week later, as Lloyd and Zane walk into the kitchen carrying groceries.
“There was a sale on tangerines at the grocery store,” Zane answers primly, setting his paper bag on the counter. “I thought it prudent to take advantage of it.”
“We have like a hundred pounds of these things,” Lloyd adds, setting his own bag down. “We’re going to be eating tangerines until we get old and grey.”
“Zane, man, you know I love a sale as much as the next guy, but this is a little overboard,” Cole says as he comes in, two more bags of tangerines hoisted on his shoulders. Kai does not stare, thank you very much, as much as he’s been finding it kind of hard to avoid when it comes to Cole and lifting things recently.
“Proper intake of vitamin C is important in preventing scurvy,” Zane replies, though he’s blinking the way he does when he’s getting embarrassed. “It’s a common illness in sailors.”
“Does that still apply if the ship can fly?” Lloyd wonders.
“Or if we’re in the twenty-first century?” Kai adds wryly, eyebrows high.
“I’m sure we’ll find some way to finish them all,” Cole pipes up. “Don’t worry about it, Zane.”
“I was not.” Zane turns away to put away the rest of the groceries while Kai and Cole exchange an amused look. As he bustles back and forth, Kai grabs a tangerine from the bag behind him and turns it over in his hands, studying the way the light catches on the dimpled rind.
“Hey,” Kai says quietly, leaning across the kitchen counter. “Did you do this?”
Cole just shrugs with a crooked grin. “I didn’t do anything. You know Zane and sales. Can’t resist ‘em.”
“You did,” Kai deduces, eyeing his teammate’s reddening ears. He feels his expression soften. “You didn’t have to.”
“Maybe I wanted to,” Cole says in response. He reaches over Kai, coming very, very close, until their noses are close enough to brush. His eyes are very dark and very close and Kai would very much like to kiss him right now.
“Um, uh,” Kai says, very eloquently.
“Not in the kitchen, please,” Zane calls from the pantry, because he hasn’t a romantic bone in his body (or any bones, to be fair to him).
Cole just grins and pulls back, displaying the tangerine he’d grabbed from behind Kai with a flourish. “I’m heading to the training deck. See you around, Hot Stuff.”
“R-right,” he mumbles (like an idiot), fighting the heat settled in his cheeks. He watches Cole go and feels distinctly like an opportunity has sailed over his head.
...
Cole smells like oranges these days.
Kai only notices because that isn’t his normal smell, which is much more organic soaps and something earthy and fresh. It’s a smell that clings to the hoodies Kai keeps pilfering from his closet—comforting in its familiarity.
The abrupt invasion of tangy citrus makes him do a double take the first time he smells it. And then he reaches into the pocket of the hoodie and finds a tangerine. It’s store bought, with a little sticker on the side, and it’s not exactly a strange sight for any reason, but it sort of confounds him.
“Hey,” he says, walking into the kitchen, the object of confusion held gingerly in his hand. “Is this a tangerine?”
Cole looks up from where he’s making a sandwich and raises an eyebrow. “Is that my hoodie?”
“I asked first,” Kai replies quickly, before he has time to pink up.
“I mean, yeah, five points for powers of deduction,” Cole says cheekily. “Congratulations, it’s a tangerine. We gotta finish them somehow, don’t we?”
“I—yeah,” Kai says absently. Cole holds out a hand for it and he tosses it over wordlessly, before he even thinks too much about it.
“You said they’re hard to peel, right?” Cole asks, digging his nails into the rind. He peels it in the shape of a flower and then splits the orange in half with his thumbs to hold out to Kai. “Here.”
Kai looks down at the segment being offered to him in an open palm and then back at Cole with his earnest, crinkly-eyed smile, and feels something stutter fatally in his chest.
“Thanks,” he manages to say, as his heart cracks open to let sunshine stream all in, filling his ribcage with warmth.
He bites into the fruit and feels his mouth fill with juice and thinks about how his mother used to peel oranges when he was too clumsy to and then about how Cole leaves tangerines in the pockets of the hoodies he knows Kai will steal and peels them for him in the shape of a flower, even though it turns his nails all yellow. He thinks of it so hard he forgets to make a face that doesn’t show about seven years of adoration on it and when he looks back at Cole, he’s already looking back with realization blazing across his expression.
“Kai?” he asks, voice wavering as his throat bobs with his nervous gulp.
“Yeah,” he agrees, and then grabs Cole by the collar of his shirt and kisses him, soft and open-mouthed, across the kitchen island. He’s so filled up with sweet oranges and sunlight and the heat of Cole’s skin that he forgets to even be afraid of this, as much as it’s frightened him in his fantasies. He stops being afraid of it altogether when Cole sighs into his mouth and cards a hand through his hair.
When they finally draw back, Cole’s pupils are blown huge and dark and he’s looking distinctly Kissed with a capital K. Kai would very much like to continue that endeavor.
“You taste like oranges,” Cole chuckles as he tugs Kai around the island to pull him closer.
You taste like home, he wants to say, but then Cole leans over him to cup his jaw and kiss him breathless, and Kai decides to let it go unspoken. There are more important things to attend to.
…
In the early summer, Cole and Kai negotiate with the others for a three-day vacation in early June. They drive in a rented car to the Valencia grove outside Ignacia and pick enough oranges to last the ship for weeks. Cole boosts him on his shoulders to help him reach the huge oranges at the tree tops and they laugh the whole time, chasing each other through the orchard and trading citrus kisses. Kai wonders if it’s possible to burst with happiness.
“I’m sick of eating oranges,” Lloyd complains when they come home bearing the (literal) fruits of their labor, newly sun-tanned and smiling.
“Really?” Kai tilts his head, considering. “Seems to me like I can never get enough of ‘em.”
“Was that some sort of romantic metaphor?” Lloyd asks with a wrinkled nose. “Gross.”
Cole laughs from where he’s watching and sidles up from behind to rest his big hands on Kai’s hips.
“Yeah,” Kai says affectionately. “Gross.”
“Not in the kitchen,” Zane calls from the next room, but Kai just leans back against Cole and closes his eyes to drink in the moment.
It’s worth it, he decides. All the fighting. All the losing. All the danger. It’s worth it to eat oranges in the kitchen with people he loves.
“What are you thinking about?” Cole teases, his voice rumbling low in his chest against Kai’s back.
“Nothing,” he says with a smile, opening his eyes. “I just love oranges.”
#ninjago#lego ninjago#ninjago kai#ninjago cole#lavashipping#ninjago lava#my writing#I can't believe I actually finished something for this fandom#holy shit#anyway!!! please look!!!!! please look at it!!!#I hope you like it :))#ft. cameos by#ninjago zane#ninjago lloyd
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Drake Schmidt (Whumptober 2021)
No. 21: That’s Where the Blood’s Supposed to Be | Mercy (alt. prompt)
No. 24: One Down, Two to Go | Flashback
No. 25: Hide & Seek | Near Death Experience (alt. prompt)
@whumptober-archive
Based on the character I made for the interactive novel Keeper of the Sun and Moon (and its sequel), and vaguely inspired by the world of Keeper of the Sun and Moon, but otherwise unrelated to Keeper of the Sun and Moon.
And here is the source for today’s image header. Too many links in this post..
Feat. modern/urban fantasy, trauma, therapy, and a(nother) rushed ending
WARNING: references to kidnapping and murder
—
One of the first things he always noticed about his therapist was her wings. Not only because she had wings at all - part of him was always going to be taken aback by the fantastical nature of this world he had stumbled into - but also because of the way they opened and closed. Slowly and smoothly, exactly like the butterfly wings they resembled. There was something inherently calming about the movement.
He had once apologised for constantly looking at her wings during one of his earlier therapy sessions, but she had simply smiled and assured him that it was fine. She had even encouraged him to sync his breathing to the movement of her wings if he ever needed to calm himself.
He found himself doing that now as the memories started to nip at his mind unpleasantly.
“Sorry, what was the question again?” he asked, voice sounding slightly far away in his own ears.
“It’s okay,” his therapist said patiently. “Why do you say your last day in captivity was embarrassing?”
“Well, maybe embarrassing wasn’t the right word...” Drake finally averted his eyes from the pair of gently beating wings and looked down at his hands. “I dunno. It feels embarrassing.”
“What made it embarrassing?”
Drake wiped the palms of his hands against his jeans, carefully thinking about how to recount the events without losing control.
“So, like... On that day, he comes down to the basement again, right?” he started. “And I can tell that he’s even more angry than usual. I found out later that some more hunter attacks were reported, so, y’know... But anyway, he starts beating me up again, screaming all the usual stuff, you know?”
“Why are you even here?! You have no right! Murdering sons of bitches, the lot of you!”
“And like, I’m scared, obviously.” Drake let out a weak laugh, if for no other reason than to hide his quickly wavering voice. “I’m just trying to defend myself until he goes away, like usual, but he... He just keeps on going.”
Throat tightening, Drake turned his gaze back up to his therapist’s wings. Three deep breaths later, and his throat still felt uncomfortably tight.
“He keeps on beating me up, and I’m starting to panic, you know?” Drake continued, trying his best to ignore how his voice shook. “I begin to think... I begin to think he might actually kill me this time...”
Looking up from where he had been thrown to the ground for the twentieth time, terror surging as his captor descends down on him yet again, changing form before his very eyes.
“I tried to hide underneath the stairs at some point... Like a little kid.”
Huddling beneath the lowermost steps he can manage, not even caring about the no doubt spider-infested webs, praying that the space is too small for his captor’s bear form to reach.
“But he still managed to drag me out, and I...”
Screaming as his captor’s jaws close around his calf and drag him out from beneath the staircase. Cowering as massive paws begin to claw and beat at him. Crying as his blood spatters onto the cement floor.
“Like, I’m crying and stuff, and I...” Drake licked his dry lips and looked back down at his hands.
“Is that what was embarrassing?” his therapist asked gently. “You crying?”
Drake shook his head. “No, it’s not that... It’s just...”
His leg was jittering. More of a nervous habit than a fear response.
“I started calling for my parents...”
“Mom! Dad! Ple-ease!”
Drake grit his teeth, wrapping his arms around himself. “I don’t know why. It’s not like they were anywhere nearby. Obviously. I was just... so scared...”
As he wails and cries out, the beating and clawing begins to slow until it stops altogether. His pathetic crying tapers off into whimpering, and he lifts one of his arms away from his face, just enough to see his captor still standing over him, no longer in bear form. Through tears, his captor looks simultaneously disgusted and horrified.
Drake sniffed and quickly wiped at his nose. “He stopped beating me up after that, for some reason... He left the door open when he ran away upstairs. That’s when I escaped.”
Stumbling his way to the top of the stairs. Limping into a tiny kitchen. Coming face to face with his captor, the man two thirds into a bottle of alcohol, and surrounded by empty bottles of the same. His captor looks so sad and weary until he sees him.
“Get out!” his captor roars, hurling the bottle at him.
He needs no more encouragement.
“So, yeah,” Drake murmured lamely.
He looked back up at his therapist, before quickly averting his gaze towards the pictures and decos on the wall. His face felt warm and his throat was still tight with far too many emotions for him to bother sifting through.
“I see.” His therapist adjusted her position slightly, folding her hands on top of the notepad on her lap. “Well, first I want to tell you that it was very brave of you to take that opportunity to escape, Drake.”
“Thanks...” Drake traced the edges of the couch armrest. “I didn’t feel all that brave...”
“Sure, you were hurt and scared, but you still seized the opportunity when it arrived, right? That sounds pretty brave to me.”
Drake smiled, just a little.
“I guess. But...” His smile faded. “I still feel, like... embarrassed.”
“Because you called for your parents?” his therapist said.
Drake nodded.
“Why do you feel embarrassed about that?”
“Well, y’know,” Drake groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m almost twenty, right? I’m an adult guy who was crying for his mom and dad like a little kid.”
“You said yourself that you were scared,” his therapist reminded him gently. “And what you went through was traumatising. I know plenty of adults even older than you who have called out for comfort during a traumatic event. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I know, I just– Like I said before, maybe embarrassed isn’t even the right word, but I can’t... I don’t know how else to describe it.”
Drake bit down on his lower lip.
“Have I... I’ve told you about what everyone– about what some people keep on telling me, right?” he asked quietly.
“About that man’s motives?” his therapist guessed.
Drake nodded a second time.
“I am very sorry about what happened. He lost his wife and daughter to hunters a couple years ago, you know. I guess the recent incidents made him snap.”
“He had a few really bad experiences with humans in the past. With all the hunter stuff on the news lately, well...”
“Given his history, can’t exactly blame him for snapping, but... Oh, god, wait, I didn’t mean–!”
Fingernails bit into his palms as Drake clenched his fists on top of his lap. His eyes stung with tears. He only barely managed to bite back a sob.
“You think about what those people have told you a lot, huh?” his therapist said.
“I...” Drake scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. “I don’t know why. It keeps on, like... Every time I think about it, I get all... tense and messed up…”
Drake leant his elbows against his knees and pressed his face into his hands. “I understand why he did what he did. I understand a lot of things. I understand why a lot of people get all nervous when they realise I’m human. I get it. But...”
He clutched at his hair, pulling at it until his scalp stung, teeth grit and tears beginning to make their way down his face.
“It’s not fair,” he whispered. “What did I ever do? I understand, but he still hurt me so badly, he hurt me until I was crying for... And then he just stopped, and that just makes me feel even more messed up for some reason...”
“I heard the hunters killed his daughter right in front of him. Like, damn, can you even imagine...?”
Drake couldn’t stop the sob from spilling out from his mouth this time. “It’s just not fair. It’s like I feel so... I get so mad and resentful, but then I feel guilty for getting mad and resentful, and that just makes it even worse–”
He finally broke down. Anger and sadness and frustration choked him, making him gasp and whine as he pulled at his hair. He didn’t know at what point he allowed his therapist to take his hands, nor how long he stared at her gently beating wings as he struggled to get a hold of himself. All he knew was that by the time he finally calmed down, their session time was up.
#whumptober2021#original writing#original fiction#original character#urban fantasy#modern fantasy#kidnapping#angst#hurt no comfort#whump#therapy#trauma#HardyGal writes stuff#HardyGal writes original content
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How Ted Lasso Sneakily Crafted its Empire Strikes Back Season
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This article contains Ted Lasso spoilers through season 2 episode 8.
Perhaps you’ve heard, but Apple TV+ series Ted Lasso was the subject of some dreaded Discourse recently.
Since the Internet is infinite and we privileged few in the media have nothing but time, a handful of features came out weeks ago essentially questioning what Ted Lasso season 2 was even all about. Many of these features were well-written, well-argued, and fair, but when filtered through Twitter’s anti-nuance machine (i.e. Twitter itself), every feature boiled down to the same reductive take: Ted Lasso season 2 doesn’t have a conflict.
In some respects, this take was the inevitable reaction to the metanarrative surrounding Ted Lasso in the first place. Despite drawing its inspiration from a series of somewhat cynical NBC Sports Premier League commercials, the first season of Ted Lasso was all about the transformative power of kindness.
Or at least that’s what we critics declared it to be. And I don’t blame us. Awash in a flood of screeners about antiheroes, dystopias, and the end of the world, the simple kindness of Ted Lasso seemed revolutionary. They made a TV show about a guy who is…nice? They can do that? But the inherent goodness of its lead character was always Ted Lasso’s elevator pitch, not its thesis.
There’s been a darkness at the center of Ted Lasso since its very first moment, when an American man got on a flight to London in a doomed attempt to save his marriage. And, as season 2’s brilliant eighth episode rolls around, it’s become clear that that darkness is what the show has really been “about” this whole time.
Season 2 episode 8 “Man City” (the title is referring to AFC Richmond’s FA Cup match against opponent Manchester City but also stealthily reveals that this installment will be all about men and their respective traumas) is quite simply the best episode of Ted Lasso yet. It also might be the best episode of television this year. Near the episode’s end, right before AFC Richmond plays a crucial FA Cup match against the mighty Manchester City, coach Ted Lasso (Jason Sudeikis) finally comes clean with his coaching staff. He’s been suffering from panic attacks of late. His assistant coaches hear him, accept him, and then head off to the pitch where Man City absolutely obliterates their team.
Man City destroys AFC Richmond. They annihilate them. Embarrass them. Stuff them into a locker and steal their lunch money. The final score is 4-0 but it might as well be 400-0. The coaching staff is rattled but the players are hit even harder. Richmond’s star striker and former Man City player Jamie Tartt (Phil Dunster) is forced to endure watching his scumbag father cheer for his hometown team from the Wembley Stadium stands at the expense of his son.
After the game, Jamie’s father, James (Kieran O’Brien), enters the locker room where he drunkenly accosts him for being a loser and demands that Jamie grant access to the Wembley Stadium pitch for him and his scumbag friends to run around on. When Jamie refuses, his father pushes him, so Jamie reflexively punches him right in the face. James is dragged out of the locker room by Coach Beard (Brendan Hunt), leading a stunned and traumatized Jamie Tartt standing in the middle of the room, as if in a spotlight of pure pain, surrounded by teammates too afraid to even approach him. And then something amazing happens…
Here’s the dirty secret about television: there’s a lot of it. Due to the sheer number of TV shows released each year, even the best of them are destined to become little more than memories long-term. Sometimes all you can ask from multiple episodes and seasons of television is to provide you with one moment, one line, or one warm feeling to carry with you into the future. I don’t know how much I’ll remember from Ted Lasso 30-40 years from now when I’m immobile and reclined in my floating entertainment unit, Wall-E style. But I know I’ll at least remember the moment that Roy hugs Jamie.
The great Roy Kent (Brett Goldstein) – a character so disconnected from his own emotions that some fans are convinced he’s CGI – embraces the one person in the world he is least likely to embrace. As Roy and Jamie wordlessly hug, it’s hard to tell which man is more shocked by the moment. Ultimately, however, it might be Ted Lasso himself who is hit hardest. Shortly after seeing Roy play father to the younger Jamie, Ted quickly exits the locker room and calls sports psychologist Dr. Sharon Fieldstone (Sarah Niles) on his Apple TV+-apporved iPhone.
“My father killed himself when I was 16. That happened. To me and to my mom,” Ted says, weeping.
And that, my friends, is what Ted Lasso is all about. Pain. And dads. But mostly pain.
None of us can say that Ted Lasso didn’t warn us it was coming. To go back to the discourse of it all real quick – I don’t blame anyone for not picking up on the direction that this show was so clearly heading in. Ted Lasso is, first and foremost, a sitcom. The beauty of sitcoms is that you welcome them into your home to watch at your own pace and your own terms. If having Ted Lasso on in the background so you can occasionally see the handsome mustache man who smiles while you fold your laundry is the way you’ve chosen to engage with the show, then great! Just know that season 2 has been operating on a deeper level this whole time as well.
Let’s take things all the way back to the beginning – back to before season 2 even began. You’ve likely heard the old philosophical thought experiment “if a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” Well Jason Sudeikis’s interviews leading up the season 2 premiere beg an equally as interesting hypothetical “how many times can one man mention The Empire Strikes Back before someone notices??”
Sudeikis referred to Ted Lasso season 2 as the show’s “Empire Strikes Back” multiple times before the premiere including in his local Kansas City Star and his technically local USA Today. The show even explicitly mentions the second Star Wars film in this season’s first episode when Richmond general manager Higgins (Jeremy Swyft) tells Ted that his kids are watching the trilogy for the first time. Sudeikis (who co-created and produces the show) and showrunner Bill Lawrence clearly want us to take the idea that Ted Lasso season 2 is The Empire Strikes Back seriously. And why would that be?
Think of how ESB differs from its two Star Wars siblings in the original trilogy. This is the story that features arguably the series most iconic moment when Luke Skywalker discovers his dad is a dick on a literal universal level. It also has the only unambiguously downer ending of any original trilogy Star Wars film. Luke is thoroughly defeated in this installment. Having one’s hand chopped off by their father and barely escaping with their life is definitely the Star Wars version of a 4-0 defeat.
The Empire Strikes Back can safely be boiled down into two concepts:
Dads are complicated.
Everything sucks.
When viewed through those two conceptual prisms, so much of Ted Lasso season 2 begins to make more sense.
Episode 1 opens with the death of a dog and then leads into a classic Ted Lasso speech that could serve as this season’s mission statemetn. After recounting the story of how he cared for his sick neighbor’s dog, Ted concludes with: “It’s funny to think about the things in your life that can make you cry knowing that they existed then become the same thing that can make you cry knowing that they’re now gone. Those things come into our lives to help us get from one place to a better one.”
Things like…a father who you didn’t have nearly enough time with? Following episode 1 (and following just about every episode this season), Bill Lawrence took to Twitter to assuage viewers’ fears about a lack of central conflict this season. He had this to say about Ted’s big speech.
Look, Merrill. It was thought out, but the speech he gives after (Written by Jason himself – I loved it) is the core of the season, but we knew some people might bum out.
— Bill Lawrence (@VDOOZER) July 27, 2021
Sorry, truly. Ted’s speech after (which I love, but am obviously biased) is a big part of the season. But it sounds like you had a crappy thing happen recently.
— Bill Lawrence (@VDOOZER) July 28, 2021
It’s not. But Ted’s speech has big relevance. Stick around!
— Bill Lawrence (@VDOOZER) July 26, 2021
He also had this to say about dads.
Effin Dads, man. Love mine so, but he’s struggling a bit.
— Bill Lawrence (@VDOOZER) July 27, 2021
“Effin dads” and our complicated relationships with them are all over Ted Lasso season 2. In the very next episode, Sam Obisanya (Toheeb Jimoh) tells Ted “You know, my father says that every time you’re on TV, he’s very happy that I’m here. That I’m in safe hands with you.”
Ted smiles at this bit of info but not as warmly as you might expect. Because to Ted, a dad isn’t a reassuring presence but rather someone you love who will just leave when you need him the most. That’s why he’s been trying to be the perfect father figure this whole time. That’s why he did something as extreme as leaving his family behind in Kansas while he heads off to London. If giving his wife space was the only way to preserve the family and remain a good dad, then he was going to give her a whole ocean of space.
Moreover, Ted hasn’t just been trying to serve as a father figure to his son this whole time but to everyone else as well. Sam’s comment to Ted reminds him that not everyone has a good dad, which encourages him to bring Jamie into the fold in the first place.
As time goes on, however, the stress of being the consummate father to everyone in his orbit begins to wear on Ted. Throughout the entirety of this season, Ted Lasso appears to be trying to be Ted Lasso just a bit too hard. His energy levels are too high. His jokes go on too long. The same life lessons that worked last year aren’t working this year. AFC Richmond opens with an embarrassing streak of draws before Jamie’s immense talents set things straight.
It all culminates in this season’s sixth episode when Ted has his second panic attack in as many years. This time it’s in public during an important game. The experience sends Ted running through the concourse of the stadium until he somehow ends up in the dark on Dr. Fieldstone’s couch, instinctively, like a wounded animal.
It’s certainly no coincidence that this panic attack occurs on the same day that Ted received a call from his son’s school asking him to pick him up, not realizing that he’s an ocean away. In that moment, Ted can’t help but remember what it’s like to be left behind by his own father and subconsciously wonder if he’s doing the same.
Though the shallow waters of Ted Lasso season 2 may have appeared consequence free for half its run, beneath the surface was a tidal wave of conflict. Just because the conflict wasn’t taking place between a happy-go-lucky football coach and a villainous owner doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.
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Game of Thrones author George R.R. Martin is terrible at meeting deadlines but great at writing. According to him (and William Faulkner, from whom he borrows the quote), the only conflict worth writing about is that of the human heart with itself. That’s something that The Empire Strikes Back understood. And it’s something that Ted Lasso season 2 does as well.
The post How Ted Lasso Sneakily Crafted its Empire Strikes Back Season appeared first on Den of Geek.
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Happy FFWF, friend! Pick one of your fics, any fic. Scroll through it without looking and whatever sentence you land on, copy and paste here. Talk about this section of your fic and how you were feeling when you wrote it, what you like about it, anything you might change, etc. (If the sentence you picked needs more context, feel free to share more surrounding it.) 😊
happy ffwf!! i couldn't choose a fic, lmao, so i told my dad to pick a number from 1 to 20 😂 he (unwittingly) chose my kuzaang fic from aang rarepair week: there are no accidents! here's the sentence plus its surrounding context i scrolled to:
“It’s not a big deal!” Aang hastily reassured him, echoing Kuzon’s own words from minutes earlier. He tugged at his yellow collar, unsure why he felt so warm when the evening breeze had not stopped circulating around them. “It was just an accident, like what happened with you and Bumi in Omashu, I bet it won’t even matter to either of us tomorrow! If you want we can pretend it never happened at all”—okay, he was rambling, he needed to wrap it up—“and, I mean, if I was going to accidentally kiss anyone, I’m glad it was you.”
Aang froze as soon as the words escaped his lips. Oh, spirits. Had he said too much? Revealed too much, been too open? Gyatso often warned him that his rambling could have unintended consequences, but this—
“Really?” Kuzon was staring at him. Steady, curious, but neither anxious nor piercing. No judgement laced his calm tone. “Why do you say that?”
Aang opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish-canary. First he’d talked himself half to death, now words failed him. Great. “I guess because”—he faltered, shaking his head—“I mean… you’re you.” He dropped his gaze to his lap, hands shaking with just enough intensity to be noticeable. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I trust you more than anyone, and so I—it makes sense to me—”
Aang cut himself off with a laugh. Maybe a little strained, maybe a little exhilarated. “Of course I trust you with my first kiss, Kuzon. Even if it was an accident and we almost fell out the tree because I freaked afterwards.” Not wanting to end on too serious of a note, he tore his eyes away from his shaking hands to wink at Kuzon and add, “You’re also the prettiest of my friends by far, so that’s a nice bonus.”
they're so CUTE 🥺 anyways 😂 im just a sap for childhood sweethearts (which is also why i like maiko, lol) and kuzaang is a great ship in that regard because i get to create everything myself. what aang reveals about kuzon in atla canon essentially confirms that they were good friends - he talks about kuzon a decent amount, lol - and from then on, it's all me. i get to make the self-indulgent fanon *insert elmo fire gif*
about this section specifically, i will say that some of aang's dialogue feels kinda stilted in retrospect, so if i were to make changes i might look into that, but honestly it's not enough where im hugely bothered by it. it's supposed to be an awkward moment! (and hopefully a cute one, too, lol.) all in all, i enjoy this scene because i think it's a nice mixture of their innocent childhood crushes as well as the inherent embarrassment that comes with having a crush when you're a kid ✨
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The Arrangement
Chapter 6: The Performance
Welcome back, my wonderful readers! We’re racing towards the end of this story! Thank you for stopping by! I'll be happy if this helps take your mind off of the world for a little bit. Enjoy the chapter :D
Summary: They've danced around their feelings for long enough now.
*
**
“Step 2, ugh this is the worst one yet.” Shikamaru waited with bated breath worried.
“It’s a dinner followed by a dance.”
He just stared for a moment waiting for more information.“Oh, that’s it?”
“Yup. This is where we need your mom and some Naras. The dinner is supposed to consist of food half from Suna and half traditional Konoha dishes.” He nodded knowing that his mom would love to have a whole kitchen staff to boss around.
He just shrugged. “Doesn’t seem too bad.”
“I have to perform a dance.”
Never in his life did he expect the cruelest kunoichi of their generation to make such a statement. Thus he couldn’t help the bubble of laughter.
“Shut up! It’s not that funny!”
“Yes, actually it is.” He couldn’t imagine his murderous warrior prancing around on a stage.
Temari just rolled her eyes annoyed, but her lips quirked into a smile at his laugh. He didn’t laugh often and she wished that he could do so much more.
“Anyways, it’s a traditional dance girls are taught from a young age. It’s a way for Suna to share part of its culture with my suitor and his family.”
“Do I have to do anything?”
“No, you just get to sit there and watch it like it’s the most incredible thing that you’ve ever seen.”
“I'm sure it will be.” He teased her and he should have expected her tackling him to the floor.
Despite her best efforts, he continued to laugh amused while she half-heartedly pounded at his chest. That is until she fell into a fit of laughter herself. She wasn’t sure whether she was happy, tired or overwhelmed but it felt good. If Shikamaru never laughed she sure as hell didn’t but like so many other things he brought that joy out of her.
Once the laughing spell had passed they laid there on the floor in warm familiarity her head tucked into his neck.
“You think I can do this?” She asked, feeling a little insecure. War, battles, missions were easy, but there was a kind of vulnerability inherent in all these rituals. This wasn’t the kind of attention she wanted.
He kissed her forehead affectionately, his arm tightening around her. “I know you can.”
*
**
Shikamaru’s arm was wrapped casually around Temari while they laughed and joked along with their friends and clansmen. It felt similar to some of the time that she’d spend in Konoha, carefree nights that would turn into mornings.
All-day long Shikamaru had been affectionate, holding hands, kisses lingering on her head. At first, she assumed that it was just to perpetuate the lie, but it seemed all the more sincere and he was seeking out those moments. Whatever his reasoning she fell into it the comfort and warmth the safety of his arms gave her. Even now she leaned into his chest as they enjoyed the company of friends and family.
The dinner was more enjoyable than she expected. She loved the food from Suna and enjoyed it being paired with the food from Konoha. She’d spent many family dinners with the Naras and when she was home she’d often crave Yoshino’s home-cooked meals. She could tell that her brothers and everyone else that had been invited were enjoying it as well. Yoshino had worked the kitchen to the bone wanting to make sure it was all perfect and their hard work paid off. The food was delicious and there were few things that she enjoyed more than feeding the people she cared about.
Temari didn’t take for granted that they were able to eat a meal together like this. People from different villages, clans, and places breaking bread together. Years ago this would not have been possible. Years ago Shikamaru had been her enemy. How times had changed.
Shikamaru’s hand was curved tightly around Temari’s waist. His fingers lightly brushed over patches of exposed skin and he could feel goosebumps where their skin touched. He knew that he needed to talk to her about the feelings that he’d finally begun to accept, but his heart had been broken in so many ways. If she was to reject his feelings this was one heartbreak he wouldn’t survive.
“Do you have to get ready soon?” He whispered over to her his fingers easily threading through her hair. Temari nodded solemnly knowing that her performance would be up soon.
Shikamaru tapped the pendant of her necklace with a soft grin. A wordless and sweet reminder.
“I’m excited to see it.”
“Why? Do you want to see me embarrass myself?”
He sighed, she was still so stubborn. “Of course not. I know it’s out of your comfort zone but I’m proud of you and I know it will go well. Tem, it means a lot to me that you’d do this. I’ve enjoyed being here and learning about Suna and your traditions.” He was so damn sincere and it was making her hesitancy wane.
Her hand went to cup his cheek warmth and affection in her eyes. “Okay, this is for you.”
*
**
Temari paced back and forth behind the curtain trying to calm herself down.
“Stop it! You’re making me nervous!” Ino scolded her pausing her movements.
“Sorry, I just can't believe that I’m being forced to do this.”
Ino just stared at her confused. “For as long as I’ve known you no one has ever been able to make you do anything you didn’t want to. It’s okay to enjoy it. I know that the rituals might seem a little outdated but you’re an actual princess living out a fairy tale.”
“You don’t think that it’s stupid?”
“No, I don’t think so, it’s kind of nice actually.”
“Why?”
“You’re welcoming Shikamaru into your village and culture. There’s something sweet and timeless about it. When Sai and I get married and he becomes a Yamanaka there are certain steps to it. It’s not as elaborate but I’m excited about it. When my mom married my dad she had to go through it so in a lot of ways going through these rituals honors his memory and everyone else that has come before us.” Temari had never thought about it that way.
“As Kunoichi, we have a lot of different expectations placed on us. We’re expected to be strong warriors, but also to carry on bloodlines by bringing new life to the village and caring for our families. There’s so much to live up to but in some ways, I think that we’re lucky because we found partners that would never force us to be just one thing. I know in some ways it might feel like you’re losing your freedom but maybe in this case you’re actually gaining something. Shikamaru can be a lot of things but he’s always been your biggest supporter. He’d never force you to do anything or be anything you didn’t want.”
Temari couldn’t help but smile. She was right. She was lucky to find someone that supported her goals in life, that never tried to change her. “Thank you Ino, and thank you for doing this for me.” While she remained in Konoha she had enlisted Ino to help her. She needed a few women to dance along with her and the blonde jumped at the opportunity. Temari thought that it would be a nice way to integrate his life into their traditions.
Ino just waved off her appreciation, throwing an arm around her. “Shikamaru is my brother so that makes you my sister. We’re family now. We’ve gotta stick together.”
A sister, it was a concept that she’d never considered but she couldn't help but like the idea. Over the years she’d grown to appreciate and respect the blonde. She was a strong, fearless and capable kunoichi that cared greatly for the people in her life. Temari was thankful that she was counted amongst them. This would only make it all the more difficult when they revealed the truth about their “relationship.” Everyone in his life had welcomed her with open arms and she was terrified of disappointing them all.
Ino began preparing the other girls while Temari peered from behind the curtain to where Shikamaru was sitting with her brothers, his mom and Choji. That was her family out there. The stability, sense of home and belonging she’d always wanted was there with them. She was fearless, a storm and she was tired of being some kind of pawn. The council may have forced her hand, but she had still chosen Shikamaru and she knew that in all situations, times and places she’d always choose him. In a twisted way, she was thankful for what they had done and caused her to realize.
Why couldn’t they be together? What was the harm in making this relationship real? Was it so far-fetched for them to be a couple when everyone around them seemed to believe that they belonged together? She was tired of hiding behind duty, and tradition. For blaming everyone else for what was happening. She needed to be honest with him because she finally felt like she was being honest with herself. He was only going to be in Suna for a few more days. She was working with borrowed time.
For now, she tried to put those thoughts aside playing in her head the dance steps when Gaara and Kankuro appeared. Garra was set to introduce her but they both looked like there was something more to be said.
“Come on Temari, let's have a moment before you go out there.” They walked out of the large room into a private study.
They both stared at her for a moment. She’d been dressed in traditional Suna fashion, bright embroidered fabric, make-up done and adorned in priceless jewels. Even now her costume was elaborately made with brilliant colored cloths. She very much looked like a princess.
“Temari, are you sure about this. You can still back out. We will deal with the Council. We know that you don’t like this kind of attention.” They wanted one last chance to intervene before she made a spectacle of herself unnecessarily.
Temari knew that her brothers were still worried about her but as she reflected on the last few days and really the last few years she knew what she wanted. Why she just “let” this happen the way that it did.
She just shook her head. “No, I’m okay. To be honest, I want this. I want Shikamaru as my suitor, to really have him become part of our family one day. It’s real to me now, all of it, as silly as it might be. If these rituals are what it takes then I’m all for it. ” They both just smiled at her neither one surprised by the revelation. It was nice to see her look determined and ready to take her life back in her hands.
“Does he know this?”
“No, I wanted to get through this first. I won’t ask for permission but I’d like your support?” It had just been the three of them for so long now she was bringing someone else into the fold.
Garra placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You are our sister. We will always support you. If Shikamaru is who you want then he's good enough for us.”
“Hey if he’s crazy enough to take you on for the rest of his life and become a part of this family he’s pretty damn brave.” Kankuro teased her trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. Temari was his big sister and best friend, he was happy that she’d found someone worthy of her that would love and take care of her the way that she deserved.
She just hugged them both thankful that despite it all, through life, tragedy, and war she still had her baby brothers.
*
**
The room fell silent as Gaara stood at the center to address the guests.
“Shikamaru, it has been a great honor for us to have you and your family here in Suna. Now more than ever it’s important to show not only our familiar bonds but to strengthen the ones that we share with those miles away from us. You have shown us that love can cross the driest deserts to the deepest forests. My people, the time for mourning and sadness has passed. We must look towards the desert sunrise to a new day. One filled with joy and laughter, of singing and dancing. And so it is an honor for me to present to you the crowned jewel of Suna, our Princess Temari.”
The crowd watched enthralled as the women appeared on stage in gorgeous and elaborate costumes with fans in their hands. Shikamaru’s eyes were glued on Temari’s form as she moved gracefully with the music. She was incredible and he couldn’t understand her hesitance. She was a natural as her body moved fluidly through each step her hands waving the fans in elaborate gestures. He watched in a daze as each long and lean limb moved with intention through the air, his eyes following each line and curve. Her face was set in that familiar look of pure determination. She was there to prove herself capable and better than anyone could have ever expected. He didn’t doubt that the room was stunned by the level of precision and grace present.
“She’s beautiful.” He vaguely heard his mom remarked. Her eyes opened in wonder and pride.
Temari while she complained and resisted this whole process had demonstrated the dignity and strength of her bloodline. She was truly Suna’s princess and he hoped she'd be his queen.
Once the performance concluded the crowd erupted in loud cheers. Shikamaru made his way towards Temari, pulling her into his arms. Overwhelmed by love and emotion he couldn’t help but place a sweet, warm kiss against her lips. He was not the least bit ashamed of being affectionate towards her in front of all these people.
“You were amazing Tem.” She just blushed embarrassed by the attention and impromptu kiss.
Once the cheers had died down they faced their guests hand in hand. As part of this event, he was supposed to make a statement to Suna. Initially, he’d been nervous never being one for public speeches, preferring his work to be behind the scenes. After what he’d seen Temari do he no longer had that hesitation.
“Thank you, Lord Gaara, the wonderful citizens of Suna and my Princess Temari for welcoming us to your village and home. Sunagakure is a strong, proud and wonderful country that we have been fortunate to learn more about. I am humbled by the kindness and friendship that we have been shown.” Shikamaru looked down at the girl holding onto him so tightly. “Temari, my love. Thank you for choosing me. I will spend the rest of our days together proving that I’m worthy of you.”
Everyone was completely floored by the sincere love present between them. Their relationship represented a new chapter in Suna’s story, one that proved that the world had changed.
The rest of the evening's festivities consisted of more food, drinks, and celebration. The Konohagakure delegation would be leaving soon so it was an opportunity to enjoy each other’s company for a little while more.
Shikamaru remained by Temari’s side for the rest of the night, not wanting to be more than a few feet away at any given moment. Ever so often she’d reach up to place a chaste kiss against his lips and it made them both breathless with anticipation for when they could finally be alone.
They were finally going to have this conversation that was years in the making.
The Arrangement:
Chapter 1: The Set-Up
Chapter 2: The Proposition
Chapter 3: The Participants
Chapter 4: The Declaration
Chapter 5: The Fear
Chapter 6: The Performance
Important Notes:
Temari’s dance was inspired by traditional Japanese dances. They are really pretty so look them up!
There are maybe 3 more chapters to this story then it will be all done.
Ino and Temari would totally get along and be good friends!
**
The world is a crazy place right now. Please be good to yourself and others. Do what you need to keep yourself happy, healthy and safe. Good hygiene and good self-care right now! I don’t know when, or how but it will all be okay, I’m here and I love you!
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Psycho Analysis: Erik Killmonger
(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)
The Marvel Cinematic Universe has always been able to tell compelling stories with its heroes, but for the longest time the films lacked a key component of any great superhero story: great, compelling villains. Sure, there were enjoyable foes like Ultron and Red Skull and then there was Loki, the poster child for villainy in the early days, but I think at some point we can’t JUST have fun, we need something compelling and engaging too. To quote one of the greatest MCU villains, it should be “perfectly balanced, as all things should be.”
Thankfully, we eventually got those compelling villains. Characters like Zemo, Toomes, and Ghost showcased a level of complexity and depth not really seen in anyone outside Loki, and fun villains like Hela and the Grandmaster were better than ever, with more engaging personalities. Then we got villains who were a blend, like Ego and Mysterio, and don’t even get me started on Thanos. But there is one villain who stands out even among the greatness of these villains, a villain who is one of the few Marvel villains that I would without hesitation call one of the greatest villains of all time: Erik Killmonger.
Killmonger is a character who solidified Marvel’s turning point from weaker villains into villains worthy of high praise. And not only that, he helped to completely redeem his actor, Michael B. Jordan, in the eyes of filmgoers everywhere after a not-so-fantastic previous outing into the superhero movie genre (though starring in Creed probably also helped him out). Killmonger’s story is almost Shakesperean, with a tragic life molding him into the ruthless man he became, a man whose entire motivation is founded on hypocrisy. But it’s these facets and more that make him if not the greatest, but one of the most fascinating characters in the MCU. And yes, I mean characters period.
Motivation/Goals: Erik had a pretty miserable life growing up. His dad was killed by T’Challa’s father for allying himself with Klaue due to wanting to end Wakanda’s isolationist policies after seeing black people disenfranchised in America, and his mom was apparently in jail (and she died there). Erik’s greatest desire is to carry on his father’s work, only on a grander scale: he wants to take the throne of Wakanda for himself and forcibly end their isolationist policies, supplying vibranium tech to black people around the world and giving them the strength to fight back at their oppressors. And, you know, I can’t really fault him in theory, his plan isn’t totally evil…
...but it becomes very clear that the only person Erik really thinks about is himself. He’ll oppress and murder black people if they don’t fall in line with his plans, he doesn’t give a damn about anyone who isn’t black in general, and most tellingly of all: he decides to keep the power of Black Panther to himself, destroying it to keep any future generations from getting it. While there definitely is some truth to his goals and desires, it’s hard to deny that Killmonger is also acting out of vengeance and a lust for power. Unlike most villains who lust for power, he at least has a lot of other things going in to his motivations, which keeps him from being bland like, oh, I don’t know, Malekith.
I think it’s also worth noting that even in the film, the characters point out Erik is still operating like a CIA wetworker, dismantling and destroying governments while masking his motives under the guise of rebellious ideology. The thing here is that he’s not working for anyone who’s going to swoop in and scoop up the assets from the ruins of the places he’s destroying – he’s the master, and all he is doing is leaving behind chaos, destruction, and death for nothing. His own goals are not truly helped by a lot of his actions, especially not when he decides to eschew Wakandan traditions in the third act, which helps lead to his downfall.
Performance: Michael B. Jordan is a very talented man, which anyone would be able to tell you provided they had watched Chronicle and sat out F4ntastic. Unfortunately, the latter managed to stick in most people’s minds since it ruined the career of Chronicle’s director and basically garnered a lot of vitriol for everyone involved, so it was going to be an uphill battle for Jordan with this film.
Boy did he win the crowd here.
Jordan manages to make Killmonger everything you would want to see in a villain. He’s cunning, he’s dangerous, he’s charismatic, he’s pretty damn hot (Did you SEE him with his shirt off?!). It’s to the point where despite the incredibly embarrassing CGI cat fight at the end between him and T’Challa, Jordan manages to turn Killmonger’s death scene into a poignant and emotional moment that ends up deeply affecting T’Challa as a character and setting the stage for his character growth to the point where you can almost forget that you spent the last ten minutes watching a PS3 cutscene.
Final Fate: For a comic book movie villain, there is about a 10% chance you will make it out of any given superhero movie alive. Killmonger does not fall into that 10%; thankfully, he does get a poignant sendoff, where he gets to watch the sun set on Wakanda (both figuratively and literally, considering T’Challa’s actions in the ending) and deliver one last line clinging to his ideology to his dying breath. Maybe he was just playing a bit to mask his own egotism, but you have to give props to a man who stays steadfast and defiant even to the end. Even when offered the chance to be saved, he chooses to go out on his own terms.
Best Scene: I can hardly narrow it down to one scene, because Killmonger basically steals the show whenever he’s onscreen. But his cold-blooded murder of his own girlfriend when she became a liability to his plans, followed up by executing Klaue and delivering his corpse to Wakanda? That’s just ice cold. Most villains wish they could get the lengths they’d go to established like that.
Best Quote: After going on about the poignancy of his dying words, how could I not put them here? When T’Challa tells Killmonger Wakandan science can save his life following the Video game cuts- er, final battle between the two, Killmonger responds thusly:
“Why? So you can lock me up? Nah. Just bury me in the ocean, with my ancestors who jumped from the ships, 'cause they knew death was better than bondage.”
Final Thoughts & Score: There is just so much to unpack with Killmonger.
I think one of the aspects about Killmonger I like the most is that despite his good intentions, there is an inherent hypocrisy in all he does which, despite valid points and incredibly valid grievances, firmly cements himself as a villain. For all his talk of aiding and liberating his fellow Africans from the opression they face around the world, he feels no remorse in appropriating from them (as he does to that mask at the start of the film, ironically after calling out a museum worker for stealing it) or violently subjugating them and destroying aspects of their way of life as he does when he comes to Wakanda. And his own gripes against white people, while founded in a place of legitimacy, are also filled with hypocrisy on his part, to the point where he actively does everything he rails against the white colonizers for doing, down to even oppressing and harming other non-white racial groups so long as it furthers his desire to turn Wakanda into a power that can oppress all other nations with its technological superiority. Now, usually such rampant hypocrisy would lead to a poor character, or even an idiot – but such is not the case here. His own hypocrisy only serves to make him a richer, more well-rounded character.
Compare him to Thanos. Thanos also had a plan that was inherently flawed, hypocritical, and not rooted in rational thought – and he is widely praised as an excellent character. This is because you are not supposed to agree with a villain, valid as their points or their anger are. But at the same time, their anger and their motives gives you an insight onto who they are and how they operate, a window into how their mind works, and Killmonger’s definitely shows how he is a broken, angry man who was failed by Wakanda and failed by America and has suffered bigotry, racism, and violence all his life. And in his shoes, would you too not be angry? Even with the numerous atrocities he commits and the horrible hypocrisies he wallows in, it’s hard not to feel a bit of pity for a man who could have offered so much, only to give in to hatred.
And the thing with Killmonger is that not only is his anger valid, it ultimately does have ramifications, it ultimately does change the status quo, though maybe not in the way he envisioned. T’Challa realizes in the end that Wakanda failed Killmonger, that Wakanda has been selfish and allowed horrible things to occur to their fellow Africans because they didn’t consider them their people. And so T’Challa opens the borders, decides to share Wakanda’s gifts with the world, and reach out and help disenfranchised black people around the world so that someone like Killmonger never rises up again. What this could mean for the MCU going forward is anyone’s guess, but it definitely shakes up the status quo of Wakanda a fair bit.
I think it’s rather obvious that Killmonger earns himself a 10/10, joining the ranks of Thanos, Mysterio, and Ego at the table of champions. As far as villains go, I’d say he’s probably the deepest and most well-written, though I’d still say it’s arguable if he’s the absolute best. Still, he is certainly a fine metric by which to judge other villains, and if nothing else he will most definitely wash the bad taste of Jordan’s Johnny Storm out of your mouth forever. Killmonger really is what I would consider the gold standard that other villains need to live up to in other comic book movies, and generally speaking, we’ve been getting that recently. Let’s hope that the pace can be continued, and let’s hope whoever T’Challa is fighting in Black Panther 2 can measure up.
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The Theme of Free Will in Yandere Simulator
So in the past, I’ve speculated at length about what some broad story points might be for Yandere Simulator and while I’ve revised my opinion on the significance of a character like Fun Girl (her statement of “YOU BELIEVE EVERYTHING I SAY. I WONDER WHAT ELSE I CAN TRICK YOU INTO BELIEVING?” feels a bit embarrassing in hindsight) I do think there are broad strokes that can be taken from what I wrote and applied to newer story points that’ve been shared with us since. You can consider everything below a refinement of those original ideas, I suppose. Let’s start by going back and revisiting Saikou Corp.
Note: some of this information doesn’t have a specific source other than vague recollections aside from what YandereDev has said on Twitter, Reddit, etc. so apologies in advance.
What, exactly, do we know about Saisho Saikou?
If we’re taking Fun Girl less as an actual plot point herself and more as a vehicle to deliver exposition to the audience then we can summarize a fair few things:
He was drafted into the service of the Imperial Japanese Army at age 17 in the closing days of the war. This retroactively confirms his date of birth was some time in 1928, meaning Saisho is 91 in 2019.
Saisho was confined to kitchen duty after being transferred to Okinawa at first. This changed after a bomb tore his dorm apart and he was trapped with the corpses of his friends for hours until he was rescued by other troops. During the attempted retreat after their rescue operation he called them cowards for wanting to fall back in the face of American forces. The memories of being stuck there with his dead friends still haunts him.
After being moved to a bunker, he was under constant stress from air raids and a chronic lack of sleep as well as malnourishment. When the U.S. finally found their hiding spot he tried to pull a pin on a grenade but it failed to detonate; he was promptly captured afterwards.
- From the June 1, 2018 Fun Girl text files
We know little of his life after the war at the moment other than in 1946 he was reduced to running the company that would become Saikou Corporation out of his family’s garage (much like the company it parodies, Sony, was forced to do at first in our world by its creators). Given his later characterization I suspect that he probably ruthlessly took advantage of the breaking of up so many of the zaibatsu (large financial or industrial conglomerates owned by specific families; Mitsubishi is an example) by the American occupying forces following the war. In the decades following his country’s defeat Saisho created an enormous megacorporation that makes most of the consumer products seen in Yandere Simulator’s universe. As Headmaster Shuyona later relates to us, once he puts his mind to something he never takes no for an answer.
Aside from the obvious wealth aspect that it grants him, though, what else is at work in his mind?
Like so many others, the defeat of Japan in the war simply unimaginable to him and, as far as he’s concerned, even if everyone else surrendered he never did.
The brainwashing and propaganda of the early Showa period never left him; as more and more Western influence began to creep into Japan, the more he began to freak out about it. Progressive politics and democracy are things he utterly despises.
Unsurprisingly, his reactionary politics have a racial component to them. For Saisho, the only people fit to rule the world are the Japanese and that if only everyone else realized it, there’d be a worldwide utopia. Though not outright confirmed, this also goes some way to explaining the almost eugenics-like obsession with ‘purity’ in the modern Saikou clan.
Even so, probably through careful PR stunts and knowing when to keep his mouth shut, Saisho’s worst beliefs aren’t known to the public.
- From the December 1, 2018 build’s Fun Girl files
It’s with some surprise then we know for a fact that Saisho wanted his firstborn daughter to inherit the company after he was ready to retire and only kept his son, Megami’s dad, as a backup. Despite the grueling and inhuman training that each Saikou generation seems to be put through, it seems that Saisho did genuinely love his daughter based on what Headmaster Shuyona confirms in Headmaster’s Tape #1. While this seems incongruous at first with his far right politics I think it’s helpful to see it less as a belief in equality between men and women, but instead that since she was a Saikou, she was inherently a cut above others because of that. Not many fathers would have schools built for their children in their honor if something wasn’t genuine, I think.
Megami’s aunt is a very interesting character at the moment. We know nothing about her other than the fact that she was first in line for the proverbial throne and hasn’t spoken to Saisho in 30 years because of him disowning her after they got into an argument. Fun Girl seems to hint that the conversation revolved around her trying to remember a supposed sister of hers (i.e., her) but this might just be her trolling us all. I think there’s something else very important given that time frame we also need to keep in mind: the date. What’s 30 minus 2019? 1989.
If we assume for a moment that Akademi opening its doors in 1985 was her first year, then following traditional Japanese high school length, it stands to reason her graduation occurred in 1988. The following year, Ryoba’s murder of the girl who was almost certainly Headmaster Shuyona’s daughter must’ve sent serious shock waves through Buraza Town. Megami’s aunt would’ve probably followed the proceedings with a lot of interest and I think a reason she parted ways with Saisho is because Saikou almost certainly tipped the scales in favor of Ryoba during her trial against the journalist. Why? Because of the country’s insanely high conviction rate. It’s greater than 99%. You’d practically need a miracle to get through it all and make the person who tried to take you to court look like a monster for doing so - something we know she pulled off. It’s not something that she could’ve done on her own without money changing hands or judges being properly blackmailed and flipping the media circus around. Headmaster’s Tape #6 also confirms that by 1999 Ryoba had seemingly regular contact with Saisho and Megami’s dad but it’s easy to extrapolate that they must’ve been speaking with one another prior to then; after all, just because Shuyona didn’t know about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen (it doesn’t help him either that Saisho almost certainly sees him as a useful idiot). Learning a dark secret like this about your own family, coupled with the hell they put you through growing up, would break anyone and I think it’s a good explanation of why she left.
If we accept that Saikou Corporation are Ryoba’s and Mr. Aishi’s employers then several things fall into place - why they haven’t ever had to move, why they live in a well off neighborhood, how they can simply up and leave for 10 weeks at a time to a foreign country - and the picture comes into focus. One of the things that Fun Girl seems to confirm is that Saisho’s love for Japan is equally as strong as what Ayano feels for Senpai. Knowing what we know about how the Aishi family curse seems to work, that’s pretty bone chilling. Coupled with every other horrible thing he thinks, combined with his vast wealth and influence, and it’s a recipe for disaster. The question becomes, however, what the point of all of this is. What could a murderous young woman possibly offer one of the most powerful companies in the world? Her body and mind.
Stick with me here.
Pretend you’re a scientist working for Saikou Corporation and you’re tasked with finding out what makes Ryoba tick; we’ll ignore for the moment any possible supernatural angle that the story might develop to explain their condition. The Aishi ‘curse’ seems to be a psychological condition, effecting the maternal line, that results in its carriers possessing severely stunted emotional growth, antisocial personality traits, flat affects, monotone voices, etc. This begins to alter in the host, however, an intermittent time after puberty in their late teens when, through various circumstances, meeting an individual causes an unknown psychological trigger to occur, acting as a kind of drug that for a time rewires the brain to enter a euphoria-like state wherein they begin to function on a neurotypical level, but only in contact with the source of this change (19 being the median age when an Aishi woman typically marries their victim).
What if you could isolate the factors that cause such a thing to occur? 30 years is a long time to study something, after all, and decades’ worth of research must’ve meant some kind of breakthrough. Assuming that Saikou Corporation is like any other megacorporation in fiction then they’re sure to have their hands in medical technology. Imagine taking the research you’ve done on a so-called ‘yandere’ and began to try recreating it. After all, the idea of being able to use certain external symbols or things as stimuli is practically dystopian in its usefulness. Like, say, introducing a corporate symbol and ensuring its customers only felt a sense of satisfaction when buying a certain product.
Let’s go further than that. What if you could engender the same feelings of emptiness, followed by unbridled joy, when looking at something as simple as a flag? Not only could you brainwash an entire nation, but any other place on earth that allows the services you provide as a global company...
From this perspective, the “why?” of Saikou Corporation involving themselves with Ryoba becomes evident. After coming to this piece of speculation, if it is the case, something else also really clicked for me. Two things, actually. The first is that it’d give new meaning to the speech Megami tells you on the Skype chat you can have with her at school:
Is someone there?...Ah! It's you...Why have you come here? Have you come here to taunt me? Do you even know who I am? I know who you are. I know WHAT you are. My father won't allow me to attend school while you are..."active". He has a reason for tolerating your presence at this school. I don't. You are a vulgar creature that is only allowed to exist because you serve a purpose. If it was my decision, then every last one of you would be exterminated. Have fun while you can. If you and I ever cross paths...you're going to have a bad time.
The purpose is to further Saikou Corporation’s knowledge of the yandere condition and to find further ways to exploit it. Megami’s dad is in on this scheme and has purposefully kept Megami off campus while Ayano is on her murder spree as a way to keep her safe. What’s more, Ayano isn’t the only yandere that’s active either. Such a statement is more revealing than you might imagine it to be too.
I think it’s pretty accepted at this point that the journalist’s wife was a yandere herself. He tells us as much in Mysterious Tape #6
But as soon as we met, she wanted to spend every waking moment with me. She wouldn't let me out of her sight, and got possessive if another woman so much as looked at me.
I quickly began to depend on her for everything. It wasn't long before I couldn't live without her. I certainly wasn't in any state to take care of myself... I was like an adult-sized baby. Helpless and vulnerable. Who knows...maybe that's what she was attracted to. Maybe she just wanted to experience the sensation of owning a person. Maybe she wanted to keep a human pet.
Isn’t it odd how she showed up in his life only a year after his ordeal with Ryoba in court? How his marriage to her didn’t involve them leaving the town at all? If I were him, I would’ve probably left it behind a long time ago, especially if it brought up memories as traumatic as what he’d experienced (and the fact he was directly threatened by Ryoba too). But instead his marriage and alcoholism caused him to never get out until it was too late. The timing seems... convenient, doesn’t it? Almost as if it were planned.
It wouldn’t be hard, I think, to sic some girl afflicted with the condition on someone either in hopes they’d ‘imprint’ on them or alternatively try to induce that very same response in them somehow. It’s a safe bet, again, considering how long Saikou Corp. would’ve had to pour over the data they’d collected. There surely would’ve been theories on how it happened and they’d be unethical enough to try it on human test subjects. So if they could do that, who might it happen to?
I think that an overarching narrative theme in-game is going to be that of free will. Let’s consider for a moment both Megami and Ayano as parallels to one another. Both are incredibly driven women who will stop at nothing to get what they desire - order for Megami, Senpai for Ayano - with familial histories of treachery and abuse. If Megami’s life has been lain down before her without her having much say in the matter, how does this similar struggle reflect in Ayano? Arguably, Megami could have everything she ever materially wanted in life just as Ayano has in the form of the feelings Senpai gives her but the issue goes deeper. If the price for Megami was having every moment planned out for her, is it not possible that the feelings Ayano has are just as manufactured? I don’t mean that in the ‘love at first sight’ kind of way; I’m questioning if the meeting with Senpai was something that was set up for her to go through, a test to see if this poor schmuck could be the thing that would let them begin to move onto a new test subject to put them through their glorified obstacle course (Akademi). Not to mention the fact that it essentially occurs right after Ryoba and Mr. Aishi leave for America is an immediate red flag.
If Megami is trying to stop Ayano, though, then it must mean that she’s rebelling against the wishes of Saikou Corporation itself. After all, they don’t want something that they’ve put years of investment into slipping through the fingers if they can help it. The end game she has in mind is anyone’s guess at this point but I suspect it will be the purge of anything related to the above secret project. As such, there’s going to have to be someone to offer us an alternative to bringing down the current iteration of Saikou - and I think we also have an inkling of who’s going to aid us in bringing her down.
Kencho is emblematic of the status quo. He desperately desires his father’s approval (the one who’s likely continuing his father’s wishes and pursuing this whole endeavor to begin with) and will do anything to gain it. If Megami steps out of line too much, he’s certain to know that means she’ll fall from grace. He’s only been prevented from doing anything about his current situation because he’s only second best and hurting Megami would upset his dad. However, if she were to have an unfortunate accident... well, it isn’t as if he could be ignored anymore. In exchange, I imagine he’ll give Ayano exactly what her mother had: a nice house, a life untouched by anyone who’d take Taro or Taeko away from her, and a way for the two of them to have children if you go the latter route. All Ayano has to do is just give in to being a pawn like her mother did, like Kencho did, and like his father did. Or she can, at last, have the first real choice she’s ever had in her life by siding with Megami and tearing it all down (with Senpai still the promised reward in exchange for her help, certainly...).
#yandere chan#yandere sim#yan sim#lovesick#megami saikou#taro yamada#speculation#long posts#theory#kencho saikou#ayano aishi#ryoba aishi
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Merry Christmas, @kayefraser!
I hope you like it and sorry for the rather elaborate storyline lol. It kind of got away from me. Updates will be weekly as fic is completed.
Read on AO3
*****
Step Into The Circle
Chapter 1
: The AcademyChapter Text
The bell rang and but Stiles was so engrossed that he didn’t realise he’d be late until Scott appeared next to him and grabbed him by the sleeve of his uniform.
‘Dude!’ His huge brown eyes were pleading. ‘We’re going to be late!’
‘Shit.’ Stiles dropped the book he was scouring through and made a face. ‘Harris already hates me. He’s going to take pleasure in turning me into something unnatural if I’m late again this week.’
‘I know.’ Scott bundled him out of his chair and towards the library exit. ‘Come on, if we cut through the back quad we could still make it on time.’
‘The back quad.’ Stiles skidded to a halt. ‘No way, man. That’s where the seniors hang out.’
‘So?’ Scott frowned. ‘It’s the quickest way.’
‘Yes, that’s true.’ Stiles squirmed while he tried to come up with a reasonable answer. ‘It’s just…’ He looked at Scott and saw the judgement written all over his face. ‘Oh, come on. Like you’ve never made an ass out of yourself in front of Allison before.’
‘Allison at least knows I like her, which is why she’s my girlfriend.’ Scott countered, folding his arms. ‘You’ve been pining over Derek for an entire five years and all you’ve managed to do is electrocute him and avoid him in the corridors.’
‘Ugh.’ Stiles hung his head. ‘I know. It’s just he’s got those stupid eyes that change colour and shoulders for days and legs that don't quit…’ He trailed off, his eyes glazing over a little in the face of the unhuman hotness that was Derek Sebastian Hale (and Stiles was definitely not telling how he’d broken into the admin office to compulsively read Derek’s student record and so find out his middle name).
The second bell rang and they both nearly jumped out of their skins.
‘Crap.’ Stiles’ shoulders drooped. ‘We’re so fucked.’
‘Speak for yourself, buddy.’ Scott grumbled, dragging him down the corridor. ‘If Harris gives us detention, you’re doing all my laundry for a week.’
-
Harris did indeed give them detention, his pale blue eyes gleaming when Scott and Stiles attempted to sneak into the back of the lecture hall unseen. Now he stood in front of them, an unpleasant smirk on his face as he handed back their assignments from the previous week.
‘Stilinski.’ His lip curled in a sneer. ‘You’re lucky that your acceptance to the State Academy of Alchemy was not my decision to make or you’d be bounced out of here so quickly you wouldn’t even hit the ground for a hundred yards.’ He unceremoniously dropped a sheaf of papers on Stiles’ desk and kept moving and Stiles picked them up. He glared at the red ‘F’ at the top of his paper and fumed. Next to him Scott gave him a sympathetic look.
‘Sorry.’ he whispered. ‘I know you spent most of the time helping me with mine.’
‘It’s okay.’ Stiles muttered back. It was true though. Scott was an appallingly untalented military alchemist, his powers more in line with natural influences. He excelled at biological alchemy used for healing and making things grow but because his father Colonel Rafael McCall was a high up in the State Alchemy hierarchy, Scott had been forced to enroll instead of taking up a position in the medical arts he’d been offered by the hospital Melissa McCall worked for. Thankfully, he’d been taken under the wing of Senior Medic Alan Deaton and Stiles desperately hoped that he’d be allowed to apprentice to the older alchemist because Scott made a terrible soldier.
There was a smug noise a couple of seats down from them and Stiles leaned forward a little to see Lydia Martin giving her assignment a pleased look, flicking her perfect strawberry blond braid over one shoulder. He didn’t need to see it to know that she’d scored a perfect A+. Lydia was arrogant and beautiful and rumoured to be more brilliant than anyone else at the academy. She specialised in particularly complicated alchemy and the darker rumours hinted at forbidden transmutations. Stiles had thought she was the most amazing creature on the planet all the way through school. Of course that was before he’d joined the Academy, Lydia had ended up being his best friend instead of anything else and he'd discovered that terrifyingly brilliant was actually his type.
Next to her was another young woman, this one with a long dark braid and dimples that could serve as water wells in their own right. Allison Argent was another legacy. Her father and grandfather were both high ranking state alchemists, as had her mother when she was still alive, and while she only managed general transmutations, Allison was a very skilled fighter and expert marksman. She could transmute practically anything into a weapon and Stiles had seen Scott actually cry over how perfect her martial form was. Thankfully she was also sunshine personified and their friend, otherwise the two of them would never have passed their weapons module the year before.
Stiles sat back and regarded his essay. He knew Harris hated him and was used to poor grades. His own alchemy was something quite unique, unlike Harris’ relatively poor attempts at chimeric magic that he never got quite right. It had come from his father’s side of the family, although Noah Stilinski was better known as a soldier than an alchemist. His father was a brilliant man in his own right, even without magic, and he ran the City’s Watch with an even handed fairness. It was widely said that he was the most honest man in the State Military and very much respected, which was why Stiles always felt like he was a colossal disappointment. He was considered a troublemaker and upstart, his electrical alchemy thought to be highly unstable and a danger to those around him.
Class was finally over and he trudged out, the others following him. He was so morose, he didn’t even try and stop Lydia from snatching his paper.
‘Oh my.’ Her dark green eyes were narrowed as she read the scathing comments Harris had left. ‘You do realise that you could absolutely have him for bullying with this bullshit.’
‘Don’t.’ Stiles took it back from her. ‘I’m not even a qualified alchemist yet. You know they’d take his side if I made a complaint.’
‘It’s not right through.’ Allison’s mouth turned down. ‘I could talk to my dad if you want?’
‘Oh no.’ Stiles shook his head vehemently. ‘That is definitely not happening.’
‘Fine, we’ll drop it.’ Lydia said. ‘For now.’
They walked along the long cloistered walk towards the gymnasium and Stiles got lost in his head about what he should do about Harris. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t see the person in front of him until he walked right into a solid wall of muscle and fell over on his ass. He gasped when he looked up into a pair of kaleidoscopic eyes surmounted by dark bushy eyebrows that could convey I will end you without uttering a word.
‘Oh God.’ He tried to scoot back on his ass, flailing very unattractively as he did so. ‘Please don’t kill me.’
Towering above him and dressed immaculately in the black braided greatcoat that indicated a recently qualified senior student, Derek Hale rolled his eyes and made no offer to help him up. The exasperated expression on his face was spectacular and inherently genetic. Their Offensive Alchemy professor was his uncle, Peter Hale, and he had the exact same eye roll as did Derek’s younger sister Cora, who was in First Year. Stiles had never met the celebrated war hero, youngest major-general of the State Military and current Hale pack alpha Laura Hale, currently away and defending the Northern border, but he’d heard she could cow an entire battalion with a single eyebrow so it would stand to reason that the eye roll was probably also part of her repertoire.
‘Get up, Stilinski.’ he drawled. ‘You’re embarrassing yourself.’
‘No, leave him. This is the best entertainment I’ve had all day.’ This came from the willowy blonde next to Derek with a razor sharp smile. Erica Reyes was an elemental alchemist that specialised in air alchemy, a notoriously difficult form that allowed her to manipulate its density to produce concussive waves and also create impenetrable shields. She was also one of Laura’s pack, a werewolf as were his other two friends that stood behind her. The more cherubic of the two was Isaac Lahey, a specialist in manipulating time to move quicker than sight and Vernon Boyd, Derek’s best friend and a steel alchemist that wore his strength enhancing semi-gaunts inscribed with his transmutation circle openly and who roughly the size and shape of a tank. There were many running jokes about the four of them and some unsavoury rumours as well, not helped by the fact that Derek was said to be an elemental alchemist although nobody was actually sure what his true power was because he only ever used general transmutations, although Stiles probably knew more than most because he’d seen the notation in Derek’s student record that alluded to a sealed part of the documents that was classified.
‘Erica.’ Boyd rumbled before he sidestepped Derek and held out a hand to Stiles. ‘Come on, get up. You look ridiculous.’
‘Thanks.’ Stiles muttered but he took the hand and tried not to look horribly impressed when Boyd lifted him as if he weighed nothing. He was stupidly strong and people had a tendency to compare him with the fabled Alex Louis Armstrong, except with more hair and far less self-regard.
He dusted himself off and the pack swept past him in a swirl of black greatcoats. Derek was the last to leave and when he did it was with a glint of fang as he gave Stiles a smile that looked way beyond predatory and equal parts boner inducing and pant shittingly terrifying.
‘Try to look where you’re going in future.’ he growled and Stiles curled in on himself.
‘Whatever Sourwolf.’ he muttered under his breath and then nearly shrieked when Scott’s hand came down on his shoulder.
‘Damn.’ He looked as relieved as Stiles felt that he’d not been eaten. ‘Dude. You really have a knack for getting yourself into it.’
‘No kidding.’ Stiles glanced at Derek’s path through the cloister corridor, scattering junior students in his wake. ‘It’s like dancing with death, if death were a grumpy gorgeous asshole. Apparently bathing in the blood of your enemies gives you a glowing complexion and perfect stubble, in spite of it being against regulations.’
‘I don’t why know he intimidates you so much.’ Lydia buffed her nails on the front of her jacket. Fifth years wore short jackets with red braid instead of the black braided greatcoats that the qualified senior sixth years wore and she made it look as elegant as any evening gown, maybe even more so.
‘That’s because you’re both beautiful people.’ Stiles snorted. ‘The only reason you hang out with us plebs is because we make you look even better.’
‘Not a lie.’ The chuckle behind him made Stiles roll his eyes. It was Jackson and Danny, the only other couple in their year that could even match up with Allison and Scott for cuteness, even though their relationship was based more on mutual insult. Jackson was the adopted son of General David Whittemore, Noah Stilinski’s senior officer in the Home Guard, and he was forever trying to prove that he belonged in the Academy on his own merits, which were pretty damn good. He was a transformation alchemist, able to change his shape and take on the appearance of something else. His current alternate form was scaly and able to walk on the ceiling like a lizard, a sharp contrast to his human looks, and something Stiles enjoyed mocking on a regular basis. It made for an odd friendship but Jackson was an excellent sparring partner.
‘You’re just pissed you’re not Derek’s type so he never even acknowledges your existence.’ He retorted.
‘I could care less about attracting the attention of a known psychopath.’ Jackson sniffed, nose in the air. ‘And for your information, I’m everyone’s type.’
‘Now, now.’ Danny grinned. He could match Allison in the dimples department, his tanned skin and ability to manipulate rock into liquid forms a hallmark of his island ancestry. ‘You know that he was found innocent of all charges.’
Ah yes, the elephant in the Academy that nobody ever talked about. The last time someone had mentioned the deaths of almost the entire Hale family, Derek had grabbed the offending student, a sneaky little bastard called Matt Daehler that Stiles didn’t trust an inch, by the front of his uniform and hoisted him right off his feet before he’d threatened to rip his throat out with his teeth. Matt had promptly wet himself and then been quietly transferred to the State Military version of Administration, where he was now wading through paperwork as punishment. Talia Hale had been well-loved. Her time as General of the Northern Quarter had seen great improvement in relationships between the citizens of Beacon Hills City and the Military that ran every aspect of public services. She had been renowned as being fair and just, a far cry from the power hungry echelons below her. She’d favoured negotiation over conflict and her resistance to slaughtering her foes was through to be the reason she had been assassinated, along with almost her entire family, including her husband and twin sons, her parents and sisters and brothers and their children. Their pack had been large and the impact of their deaths had been far reaching, especially when the one put on trial for their deaths had been twelve year old Derek Hale, seemingly the only survivor of the fire that had incinerated his family. Laura and Peter had both been at the Academy and Cora had managed somehow to escape and lived feral in the forests surrounding the Hale estate for a year before she’d been found. By then, Derek had been cleared of all charges and enrolled in the Academy where his family could keep an eye on him.
That had been six years previously and the mystery as to who had killed the Hales was as enthralling as it had been right at the start. Stiles knew his father had a suspicion as to who it had been but he’d mentioned that he had no proof and so was unable to launch a proper investigation. So life had gone on, Gerard Argent had taken Talia’s place as General and the military action had stepped up. The soldiers fighting on the Northern Border were used as cannon fodder for his ambitions but whenever someone had objected, they ended up being transferred out to the furthest reaches of the empire or floating in the Beacon River. People knew not to go against the Argents, which made it all the more improbable that Allison had grown up to be as level headed as she was.
Stiles threw one last look in the direction Derek had gone. He could understand how being treated like a murderer and ostracised by almost everyone else at the Academy could make you hard and suspicious and hostile, reluctant to connect with anyone outside of his immediate pack.
He just wished his poor heart could take the hint.
*****
Chapter 2
: Trouble AfootChapter Text
The weekend came mercifully soon and Stiles bounded out of bed with an exuberance that he normally didn’t demonstrate during the week of confinement that he was subjected to. Thankfully as fifth years, they all had permission to take day leave on the weekend. It wasn’t as good as being in sixth year when the leave was extended until midnight curfew but it was better than nothing and Stiles grabbed it with both hands. He also did not have to go out in uniform like the sixth years did and he had a quick shower, luxuriating in being able to use as much hot water as he wanted because the communal showers were but empty at eight o’clock on a Saturday. He loped back to the room he shared with Scott and dressed in khakis, t-shirt and plaid overshirt before sitting down to tie his sneakers. A quick glance in the mirror told him he looked like any normal college student and he grinned. Scott muttered a goodbye as he flew out the door and galloped down to the mess hall, hoping to grab some coffee, a bowl of cereal and maybe a piece of fruit before he escaped and made the long tram ride to the city centre and the Watch HQ to see his dad.
He found Lydia already there, sipping herbal tea and eating a bowl of chopped fruit with delicate stabs of her fork. She had her hair twisted in a knot on top of her head, her face was made up and she wore a dress in emerald green print that made her eyes sparkle and Stiles knew there was no getting away from her. She’d developed a romance with one of his father’s junior officers and as much as Stiles was loathe to admit, Parrish was very good for her. He wasn’t the least bit intimidated by Lydia’s brilliance and loved her ardently enough for everyone to realise that they were more than likely in for the long haul. Jordan was an elemental alchemist and able to sustain being lit on fire as he was immune to its effects. He wasn’t particularly good at manipulating it though, hence his posting in the Watch, but he was very capable of rescuing people from burning buildings and a boon to his father’s department.
‘Good morning.’ She regarded him over the brim of her cup. ‘Do you have to dress like you have no idea how to press your clothing?’
‘Yes.’ Stiles went to inspect the buffet line. He made up a bowl of oatmeal, liberally dousing it in honey and cream, and then returned with an apple in each pocket, a banana clenched between his teeth and his precious coffee. He ate like a man possessed and glanced up to see Lydia pursing her lips in disapproval. For someone who purported to be his best friend, she was awfully judgy of him at all times so he made a face at her.
‘Where do you want to go today?’ he asked and she shrugged and set her empty cup aside.
‘Just to say hello and then Jordan’s taking me for lunch.’ she replied. ‘We’re going to visit my mother this afternoon.’
‘Ooh.’ Stiles grinned. ‘Meeting the family? It’s getting serious.’
‘A lady never kisses and tells.’ Lydia replied primly. ‘Are you spending the day with Noah?’
‘Yeah.’ Stiles drained his cup, the remains of his breakfast now scattered around him. ‘You ready to go?’
‘Sure.’ Lydia got up and he helped her into her coat and fell into step beside her.
They made it to the side door they both preferred to use and then Lydia caught his arm, pulling him into a side alcove where they were out of sight. Stiles was about to ask why when he heard the sound of footsteps and the low murmur of voices. They both peered out and saw Peter Hale coming down the corridor. He was unmistakable and every bit as handsome as his nephew was, coupled with an intellect that rivalled Lydia’s and an ability to phase through matter that made him a formidable opponent. Seeing him going out of the Academy meant that something serious must be afoot because he never left unless pressed, preferring his laboratory and library to the outside world.
There was someone next to him and when Stiles saw who it was, he sucked in a breath. If Peter was reluctant to leave the Academy that went double for Derek. He never used his passes and never left the Academy walls and so seeing him accompanying his uncle was like spotting a unicorn in the Botanical Gardens. Not to mention the fact that they both out of uniform, which was against regulations what with them both being qualified State Alchemists. Stiles had to admit though, Derek looked good in faded jeans. He was also sporting a black henley and a leather jacket that was too long in the arms for him, his inky dark hair styled in a distinctly no-military fashion.
It was like being sucker punched and Stiles bit his lip to stop the whimper that came out. Lydia glared at him and yanked him back as the Hales stopped and looked in their direction. There was no mistaking the sound of someone drawing breath and Stiles winced, knowing their were both scenting the air.
‘Stilinski and Martin are around here somewhere.’ Derek said, his voice deceptively soft and light and completely at odds with his appearance.
‘Hmmm.’ Peter sounded nonplussed. ‘Come on, we need to get there by nine. Leave the children alone, Derek.’
There was a rumbling growl but Derek followed his uncle, the sound of the steps fading as they left the building through the side door.
Lydia waited until the door was closed again before she stepped out of the alcove, a thoughtful look on her face.
‘Now, where do you think they’re going?’ she asked and Stiles got a sinking feeling.
‘No.’ he said. ‘Lydia, don’t even think about it.’
‘Like you’re not the slightest bit intrigued.’ Lydia grinned. ‘I mean, Derek and Peter going off by themselves and dressed as civilians doesn’t make you the slightest bit curious?’
Stiles huffed and let his head drop.
‘You’re not going to let this go until we find out what they’re up to, are you?’ he asked and she gave him a brilliant smile.
‘No.’ she replied, grabbing his arm and dragging him outside just in time to see a sleek black car leaving the side courtyard. ‘See? That’s an official staff car. Now if Peter was reporting to HQ I could understand, but Derek’s not even a graduated officer yet. Why’s he tagging along and why are they dressed like that? This is something hot, I’d bet your ass and mine on that.’
‘You’re the worst.’ Stiles grumbled as she hauled him down the stairs.
‘No I’m not.’ she replied easily. ‘I just like to be in the know and that’s why we’re going to go interrogate your father. If something’s happening, he’ll be the one to know about it.’
‘Ugh, I hate you.’ Stiles had to admit she was right though. If anyone knew what was happening in Beacon, it would be Noah. He hadn’t been Commander of the Watch for twenty years and survived the transition to Gerard without being astute. ‘In that case, we’ll need donuts.’
-
Derek looked out the window, his stomach churning. He hated this, the feeling of dread that was making him feel nauseated and the way Peter kept tapping his fingernails against the window sounding like thunder in his ears.
‘It’s the same MO.’ The seat opposite them was occupied by a lean man with greying blond hair and ice blue eyes. His uniform was immaculate, the braiding and epaulettes marking him as a Lt General. ‘We are pretty sure it’s her.’
‘Interesting.’ Peter leaned back and crossed his legs at the knee. ‘You do realise that it’s going to be very difficult to bring her in, not to mention the political fallout should she be identified.’
‘I am very aware of that.’ Chris Argent replied, his face perfectly neutral. He was angry though, Derek could smell it as clear as day. Then again, admitting that your own sister was a serial killer and child rapist had to be hard on one’s sense of wellbeing.
‘I’m guessing that’s why the need for secrecy.’ Peter smirked. ‘Not to mention the fact that your father would be more than happy to have us both out the way should this little venture go south.’
Derek couldn’t help himself. His eyes flashed blue and he growled deep in his chest, only relenting when Peter put a hand on his thigh and calmed him with a subsonic growl of his own.
‘This wasn’t my idea, Peter.’ Chris replied, looking pained. ‘And yes, everything you say is true. You know how it is. But the truth is, you two are also the best trackers in the city and we need to find her as soon as possible. She took out two alchemists from the East side just last night, burned them alive and dumped their bodies in Central Park right by the East Gate. The guards at the Ministry saw it so we were able to cover it up and suppress any information getting out about it.’ He handed over a pair of brown folders and Peter took them, studying the faces of the men inside.
‘Unger and Reddick.’ he mused. ‘Both low level grunts. What would she want with them?’
‘We think they may have had links to the incident.’ Chris’ eyes flashed to Derek. ‘The first victim was also connected. He was an inspector that falsified records as to the cause of the fire to make it look like Derek killed your family. Him finally confessing was one of the key testimonies in having the charges expunged.’
‘Garrison Myers? I see.’ Peter’s eyes also flashed blue for a moment and Derek felt the way the tension coiled and then released as Peter got control of his temper. His uncle was somewhat of a loose cannon with Laura so far away. He’d lost his mate in the fire and hadn’t been the same since. Derek thought that had been the saddest thing. Sasha Hale had been the only person to completely understand Peter and his death had caused a descent into madness that had seen Peter destroy a good half of the research facility that he’d been working in by simply blowing every molecule apart with devastating efficiency. It was yet another thing the Military had covered up, but Peter was now banned from field work.
Except of course, in extenuating circumstances like this one.
‘There will most certainly be others.’ Chris sighed. ‘She’s nothing if not thorough.’
‘She’s insane.’ Peter said and his voice held no trace of mockery. ‘You should have had her put down the last time. Instead, you and your father let her walk away.’
Derek closed his eyes, leaning his head against the window and trying to swallow down the sour taste in his mouth.
‘We had no idea the extent of her actions.’ Chris replied and, to give him credit, he reeked of remorse and guilt and shame. ‘If I’d known what she’d done...Peter, you have to believe I would have. I have a daughter and to think that anyone would have touched her like that when she was twelve...I would have ripped them to pieces.’
There was no blip in his heartbeat and Derek believed him. It didn’t stop him from shrinking back into the seat though, fighting his own pain and guilt and wanting to open the door and throw himself out the moving car and escape.
‘Good.’ Peter replied, his voice steely. ‘Then you’ll have no complaints when Derek does.’
-
The tram made its way through town and Stiles pondered the situation. Lydia was right, there was definitely something fishy going on.
They got off at the Watch stop, stopping to buy a dozen chocolate cream filled donuts before heading to the HQ. It was blocky squat building of red brick, the shiny six pointed star hanging outside showing its use. Stiles tripped inside and nearly faceplanted into the front desk. Grace was not one of his attributes. Lance Corporal Tara Graeme grinned at him when he righted himself, her dark eyes twinkling with humour at his expense.
‘Good morning.’ she said. ‘I’m assuming you’re here to see the Sheriff and not attempting to redecorate my desk with your face?’
‘Oh, ha ha.’ Stiles muttered. ‘Make fun of the clumsy kid.’
‘I already do.’ Tara laughed. ‘Hi Lydia. Jordan’s in the break room.’
‘Excellent.’ Lydia replied and strode past the desk and towards the back while Tara gave Stiles a once over.
‘I think you’ve grown again.’ she remarked and he preened.
‘Getting taller all the time.’ he said. ‘Is he in his office?’
‘Yeah.’ Tara made grabby hands at the box of pastries. ‘The toll will be one donut, please.’
‘Here.’ Stiles handed her one, licking frosting from his fingers. ‘Hey, you haven’t heard of anything weird going on this morning have you?’ He got his answer immediately from the shifty look on Tara’s face. ‘Never mind, I’ll just ask him what it is.’
‘Stiles!’ she admonished as he escaped past her. ‘Stay out of it!’
Stiles ignored her, tearing down the corridor to the stairs at the back of the station and his father’s office. Noah Stilinski was afforded the rank of Sargeant-Major but tradition meant he was still addressed as Sheriff by his staff, even though the rank had been defunct for centuries. He found him on the phone, his chair tilted back and his face strained. He caught Stiles’ eye as he came in and made a face and Stiles grinned, knowing without asking that he was talking to someone from Whittemore’s office. He sat and listened to his father make the appropriate noises, sliding the donuts across the desk like a sacrificial offering. Let it never be said that a Stilinski wasn’t a master of bribery.
Noah finally hung up and eyeballed him.
‘What do you know?’ he asked, helping himself to a donut.
‘Just that Peter and Derek Halke left the Academy in civilian clothing this morning.’ Stiles replied. ‘They got into a staff car and took off like their asses were on fire.’
‘Dammit.’ Noah’s voice came out muffled by donut. ‘This is high ranking stuff, kid. I can’t let you stick your nose into this one. I could get actually fired if I did.’
‘Wow.’ Stiles sat back. ‘It’s that serious?’
‘Extremely.’ Noah replied, then narrowed his eyes at him. ‘I also want you to be extra vigilant and no sneaking out the Academy after dark. I’m serious, Stiles. This is a very dangerous situation.’
‘Now, see.’ Stiles waved his hands in exasperation. ‘You can’t say things like that and not expect me to want to know what’s going on.’
Noah rested his chin in his hand and gave Stiles his most infuriating grin. He knew it well because it was the one he used on Lydia.
‘I wonder just how much what I know is worth?’ His grey eyes were twinkling madly and Stiles heaved a sigh.
‘You manipulative old man.’ he fumed. ‘This is the last thing you should be having. You know what Melissa said about your cholesterol. I’ve already gone against my better judgement and brought you donuts.’
‘Which are much appreciated.’ Noah replied, helping himself to another one. ‘But if you want the lowdown, it’s a steak at Mauricio’s or nothing.’
‘This is blackmail.’ Stiles glared at him.
‘I agree.’ Noah licked the frosting off his fingers with relish. ‘But seeing how my son makes more than I do as a State Alchemist in training, I figure he can afford it.’
‘I wonder how much the Fuhrer would pay to know one of his City Watch commanders is involved in criminal activity.’ Stiles muttered and Noah burst out laughing.
‘Not as much as you’re going to for a 24 oz. rib eye with all the trimmings.’ he replied and got up. ‘But to sweeten the deal, I’ll let you tag along on my visit to HQ.’
‘What?’ Stiles was on his feet in an instant. ‘And you’ll tell me what you know afterwards?’
‘Maybe.’ Noah replied. ‘But I’m under no illusions as to what you and Lydia came here for so go downstairs and get her as well. Jordan’s coming with so he’ll be pleased just to be in her presence.’
‘On it.’ Stiles said and bolted out the door, nearly taking himself out as he flew down the stairs. He found Lydia and Parrish locked at the lips in the break room, coughing loudly to get their attention. They broke apart and he gave them both a look.
‘Seriously?’ he asked. ‘That’s your interrogation technique?’
‘It works.’ Lydia retorted. Next to her, Parrish was straightening his uniform. Like the rest of the Military, they were also in black but with gold braiding looped about their shoulders to indicate they were City Watch.
Noah came past, shrugging into his greatcoat.
‘Come on.’ he said. ‘Time’s a wasting.’
‘I should have worn my uniform.’ Stiles said, following him out the back door and to the vehicles parked out back, grinning when he saw the driver jump to attention.
‘Guess you’ll have to just stay in the car.’ Noah chuckled and dodged the swipe Stiles aimed at him.
TBC.....
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Lang Plays Fire Emblem: Three Houses
So a while ago I said I was planning on playing the story routes in this order: Blue Lions, Black Eagles, Church of Seiros, and then Golden Deer.
The Golden Deer made a liar out of me.
So, here’s an approximation of What Happened During Verdant Wind.
So many spoilers below the cut, you guys. I do a lot of route comparisons.
Okay, I’ve been staring at the “which house do you want” selection screen for an embarrassing amount of time.
This shouldn’t be hard. I had a plan.
But no.
I clicked the Golden Deer, just like that. What the fuck, Claude. I blame you.
Immediately upon talking to this rop of students again, I can feel the difference in the social group from what the Lions were like. The latter were really a bunch of noble kids around their prince, and they felt really tight-knit. Classic Fire Emblem starter crew.
The Golden Deer is the fucking Scooby Gang.
First impressions of individuals:
Raphael, thank goodness, is the one character who absolutely has his shit in order. Sure, he’s bad at book work and thinks everything comes down to MUSCLES, but all of his emotional issues are handled by the time he arrives at Garreg Mach. He’s the brightest of sunshines.
Ignatz needs some more confidence in his art, and also I want to see his painting of Seiros. Now, if only both of his offensive stats and growths weren’t incredibly bad.
I was so close to making him my dancer. Just because he sure as hell wasn’t gonna be useful anywhere else.
Lorenz! I don’t like him. His haircut is a monstrosity.
Leonie! We are going. To be. Besties. Even though the timing of your support conversations are incredibly bad.
Marianne no please don’t be sad everyone loves you
Hilda is the greatest enabler I have ever seen. By which I mean she enables other people to do all her work for her.
Lysithea is going to have the last word with God. And especially he Death Knight.
And finally Claude! Teamwork makes the dream work, so obviously meme work does the same.
I’m sorry.
PRE-TIMESKIP
Mock battle! Marianne’s great and I love her and also the only healer oh god.
OKAY. I have access to New Game+ bonuses. What do I do first?
Immediately crank the Professor Level stat to max to avoid ever having to run short of activity points again.
Next, raise all skills I can’t easily get to at least Rank D+. HEAVY ARMOR IN PARTICULAR.
Third: Boost supports with people whose support ranks are an absolute pain in the ass to earn. Lookin’ at you, Rhea.
Also, put glasses on Byleth (named “Yuri” for this playthrough). Glasses are the bomb. I am the evil genius.
LEVEL GRINDING TIME.
It’s a lot harder with Blacksmith access being story-locked, but I can do this!
As a direct result, every single battle after this point is a complete curbstomp in my favor. Because the grind don’t stop.
I broke a lot more weapons than last time, though.
I will befriend Leonie and Ferdinand if it’s the last fucking thing I do. I will befriend everyone, and I will not get timeskip-locked out of supports! >:(
Ferdinand was my first recruit. Oh dear.
Okay, there are like five born cavaliers in this game. Leonie, Ferdinand, Lorenz, Sylvain, and I guess Dimitri if you’re on the right route.
Last time, Sylvain was a great paladin and a decent Dark Knight before he started getting one- or two-stat level ups for like thirty levels. Similarly, Dimitri was great until all his ultra-secret-awesome promotions didn’t use a fucking horse.
Contrast Leonie who, despite sitting out 99% of the game out of spite from me getting locked out of her support chain, went to endgame with a ten-level deficit and still rocked.
Ferdinand didn’t count since I failed to recruit him last time and he died. These two facts are directly related.
I didn’t use Lorenz at all; I recruited him to keep from having to kill him later.
This time, Lorenz straight-up sucks, Sylvain did the terrible level dance for like the entire game, and Dimitri’s not recruitable.
Contrast, again, Leonie. Her support chain with the player character is hot garbage, but she plowed through most of the game as a mainstay of my team and made it to Bow Knight first out of anyone.
Bernadetta and Ashe as Bow Knights don’t even come close to being as durable as she is, except for Ashe’s absolutely bananas Resistance. 29?! WHY?!
And Ferdinand is also awesome. His only real weak point is Resistance, but he doesn’t need it. He dodge-tanks everything, is faster than Leonie, and has two Saints’ relics he unknowingly stole from Seteth.
He still talks in MLA format, though.
I started putting off recruiting people so I wouldn’t have to level-grind them up to par with the rest of my team.
But if these people wanna join, of course I’m saying yes.
Lord Lonato’s rebellion and Miklan yoinking the Lance of Ruin feel way less relevant on a Golden Deer playthrough than on a Blue Lions one. None of the Herd really know who the hell these people are.
I say that despite having already recruited Sylvain for this playthrough and deploying him in the relevant level. He wasn’t treated as there by the game’s preamble cutscenes.
At least the Holy Mausoleum stuff feels more...handled? Claude actually asks questions about rebellion and about the “assassination plot,” where Dimitri didn’t really.
OKAY SO there’s this whole plot thing where Flayn goes missing for a month. With the Blue Lions, this is handled like a manhunt. Dimitri’s seriousness about the issue rubs off on everyone except Sylvain, and Felix actually correctly identifies the culprit almost instantly. He doesn’t know he’s done it, though, because basically everyone is just throwing out accusations. Manuela is the real MVP.
CONTRAST THE DEER. The very first meeting reads like a Scooby Doo episode, when they’re piling up clues and throwing out suggestions like the gang of goofball teenagers they are. Claude’s got this group running like Persona 4′s Investigation Team. None of them are jaded or frantic, they’re just doing this.
Why did Rhea entrust the investigation to a herd of teenagers.
Anyway, the rest proceeds as usual.
I don’t know why the game tries to drop the same set of hints for each route. “OoooowoooooOOOOoooo, your house leader might be the FLAME EMPEROR.”
The Flame Emperor wears heels. And is still too short to be either Claude or Dimitri. Especially Dimitri. Who the fuck let this kid get so tall.
The only real result of all this bullshit is that my wyvern-riding sniper of doom is not available during the first map where Yuri personally beat the Death Knight into the ground.
Which, by the by, was hilariously cathartic.
It doesn’t exactly matter, since the only unit who can make real use of the Dark Mage and Dark Bishop classes is unrecruitable, but bragging rights.
Remire Village’s drama is about as bad while playing as the Golden Deer. One of the foreshadowing cutscenes, though is excellent:
Claude actually finds a book that depicts The Immaculate One before its debut, only to have it confiscated by Seteth and learn that it wasn’t a library book at all; it belonged to “Tomas.” Like, all of his suspicions--which he shares with the player--start lining up. Censorship! Monsters! Sword of the Creator! What the hell is going on here??
Dimitri’s version of the cutscene involves him being caught investigating Lord Arundel by the player and Sothis. Which--since his route doesn’t meaningfully deal with the Morlocks faction aside from steamrolling them as incidental opponents--seems kinda useless.
Kicked the Death Knight into submission again out of spite.
Sylvain was useful! Mostly because I had him sit there and distract the incidentals while Claude and Lysithea cleaned house, but still!
Claude is the only lord character who seems to understand that the transforming Morlock faction probably needs to be taken more seriously. For the remainder of Part One, no one does so.
Rhea you’ve got some ‘splainin to do.
Marianne’s my team’s dancer this time. She’s a sweetheart. She seemed happy to be asked and to pursue the lessons, and being able to use Physic is a good trait in someone who’s nearly always going to be waaaaay behind the rest of the group.
Dad-stabbing happened.
Again.
Boop boop Solon’s dead.
Again.
Dear diary: I learned the definition of irony and set the Flame Emperor on fire.
I kid.
But Claude took her out in one completely overpowered shot, because crits are a thing, Flame Emperor class skills don’t reduce damage enough to survive it, and his Dex stat is through the fucking roof. And he was on a wyvern at the time because fuck it, why not.
Claude’s reaction to all of this is a minor letdown compared to the fully-rendered cutscene in the last route.
This would become something of a trend--taking out OP bosses with unexpected critical hits.
I didn’t expect to like Lorenz and now I do. How.
This is hilarious simply because he seems to be the only character that Mercedes hates. What the fuck, man.
Once again, Edelgard invades! Once again, I drop someone unexpected on her head!
Not really. It was Yuri.
Yuri does the timeskip shuffle and we’ll see everyone again after a nap.
FIVE YEARS LATER.
Aw, Claude was waiting for Yuri to show up. Adorable.
The post-meetup fight is actually harder than it was in the BL route, despite excessive level-grinding. This is due to three factors:
Claude is automatically on a wyvern, meaning that he has inherent class vulnerability to archers on a map with at least five of them. And less range than they did, for some fucking reason.
Lorenz and Ignatz started out on the same corner of the map and both of them are shitty offensive units who could barely kill a mage between them. (Neither of Ignatz’s offensive stats cracked 20 for another thirteen levels.)
I don’t have Ashe and his personal skill Locktouch, and nobody started with a Chest Key or Door Key, which meant I had to keep various enemies alive long enough to steal all of their stuff. And the enemy item drops came up one short of the number of chests on the map. I want my stuff, dammit.
LET’S MAKE A SCENE.
Randolph, as a boss in Verdant Wind, did not get any better at figuring out when he’s outmatched. Therefore, I killed him with Raphael again.
At least he straight-up died this time.
Claude didn’t even get to set the damn place on fire.
Ingrid is turning out to be way better of a unit this time than she was last time. She’s a little slower, but a lot stronger.
FELIX, WHERE THE FUCK WAS ALL THIS STRENGTH HIDING LAST TIME. YOU’RE TEN POINTS AHEAD OF THE GUY WHO HAS STORY-BASED SUPER STRENGTH.
AND SPEED.
Iiiiiiiiit’s JUDITH!
She only shows up on one map in the entire Azure Moon route, and that’s a damn shame. She’s so cool in Verdant Wind.
A lord-class character who isn’t also a Lord! WOO!
Also her spies are better than anybody’s apparently.
I am choosing to believe that because Ingrid’s family is related to Judith’s, her badassery in this route is the direct result of meeting her distant cousin and absorbing badass radiation.
There’s something funny about having to pull one over on Lorenz’s dad to get anything done. The Great Bridge falls not to power, but Claude baiting Count Gloucester’s entire army to be somewhere else. (FEAR THE DEER.)
As a result, Ladislava dies alone. (As opposed to taking Ferdinand with her due to plot shenanigans.)
Lysithea and Ferdinand’s paralogue was really quite sad, for all that the only named guy who died was deeply unsympathetic. Ferdinand’s dad was an asshole, but he wasn’t the asshole for this particular scenario, and now both of his parents are gone. :(
Felix...hasn’t heard from his dad in a while. Worrying.
Oh, and Caspar’s uncle is still dead, in case we were keeping track of that.
Dorothea’s happier with Ferdinand alive. She did an impression of the Gatekeeper. :3
Gronder Field! FUCK.
I delayed playing this chapter for two solid days because I already knew what was gonna happen. Specifically: Edelgard gets injured and evacuated, and Dimitri drops of exhaustion just in time to get run through like ten times by the Emperor’s rearguard.
I eventually got my shit together enough to do the thing.
Marianne, Raphael, and Ferdinand went after the Kingdom army first. Leonie and Felix hung back and then reinforced them after taking out the archer on the central hill.
Claude killed everyone in the center of the map, which meant Edelgard set the entire hill on fire and if Bernadetta had not been recruited she would’ve burned to death there on the spot.
Ahem.
I sent Yuri to clear the entire left side of the map by herself.
She succeeded.
Raphael KO’d Dimitri with a luck Gauntlet crit, got blasted down to half health by a Warlock, then plunked ineffectually at Dedue until Marianne used her Levin Sword to sort him out.
Ferdinand killed everyone else on that side of the map.
Claude once again got the kill on Edelgard with a lucky crit, after Yuri had killed everyone else (up to and including the Demonic Beasts) single-handedly.
And then the plot moved on. Hilda’s account of Dimitri’s death was awful, Dedue’s reaction was worse, and off we go to punch Edelgard’s teeth in.
Again.
Annette’s dad is probably dead now.
Felix’s, too.
(I THOUGHT WE WERE DONE WITH THE DAD-STABBING.)
FOOOOOORT MERCEUS.
No matter how many times I think about it, Claude’s Almyran army reinforcements only make so much sense. How the hell and fuck did he manage to sneak an entire foreign army across a whole country to help with one battle?
But hey, they’re here, and Claude almost admitted the reason why he could do that. And the arrow greeting between him and Nader was cool.
(Spoiler: On top of being the Alliance’s leader, he’s also the crown prince of Almyra!)
The Death Knight had the gall to run from my army.
Yuri punched his ticket for the third time, which was not the charm.
And then Fort Merceus took an intercontinental ballistic missile and suddenly defeating the fort’s garrison feels a lot less triumphant.
Spot the miscolored eyes in this cutscene!
Welp. Fuck it, we’re off to Enbarr. Time to also punch Hubert this time! What a change of pace.
Eyyy, it’s the Enbarr map. I totally forgot to bring Seteth and Flayn along to check out the opera house, despite a whole bunch of characters talking about how they totally wanted to check that place out at some point. No room for deadweights in a map that has SO MANY ARCHERS.
Managed to get the special dialogue between Ferdinand and Hubert, and now I’m sad again.
Killed Hubert with Claude.
And because this is a two-part map, we immediately run off to chase down Edelgard. Due to the player army not doing a really weird 180 in the middle of the plot to kick Cornelia out of Fhirdiad, she didn’t have time to turn into a giant demonic thing! She just has WAY TOO MANY MAGES.
Strategy: Forget what Door Keys are, split the team by Avoid rating, and go to town.
Claude nearly died thanks to a critical mass of Gremories and Mortal Savants (and still, what the fuck is that name), but Dedue-as-guest-character didn’t, so I count that as a win! His defense was so high that the Giant Demonic Beast couldn’t even scratch him.
Claude, Petra, and Ingrid all having Alert Stance as a skill means dodge-tanking is hilariously easy.
Also, Ingrid was supposed to just take a chunk out of Edelgard’s HP bar for the final assault and ended up crit-killing her on the first attack. With a bog-standard silver lance.
Weird as the situation turned out, I guess that means one of Dimitri’s friends really did avenge him after saying they would. Even if Dedue was the only one who had a special cutscene about it.
We rescued Rhea! And the characters being happy about it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. I want answers, same as Claude, and being forced to RP Yuri being oh so worried about Rhea’s safety felt incredibly disingenuous.
Claude actually yells at her over the “...” she seems to think is an explanation. THE TIME FOR SECRETS IS PAST.
WHY DID ALL THIS SHIT HAPPEN.
WE’VE BEEN AT WAR FOR FIVE YEARS.
A WHOLE BUNCH OF PEOPLE DIED HORRIBLY FOR BASICALLY NOTHING.
Incidentally, this is why I didn’t end up playing Edelgard’s route as planned. Her logic for kicking two other sovereign countries in the balls felt incredibly self-centered.
At least Catherine’s happy. Same with Alois and the rest of the Church crew.
They are soon going to be not as happy.
I’m filling out the ENTIRE support log before endgame. I have absolutely no idea what characters are going to end up together as a direct result.
The last conversation? Seteth and Manuela’s A+ support!
Because so many of the support conversations are romantic at A/A+ level, I guess we’ve managed to turn this ragtag army into a polyarmory.
Oh boy, Thales sure is a sore loser.
I say, as though I didn’t kill EVERYONE he knew over the course of an hour and also split his skull open under Seteth’s axe. His racism would have keeled his ass over before death set in.
That sure is a ICBM.
GOD DAMMIT RHEA, THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A Q&A SESSION AFTER THIS.
WHY DOES EVERYONE WHOSE JOB IS EXPOSITION UP AND DIE.
Meanwhile: THE UBER-DEAD PEOPLE.
Claude, your route is batshit. What is this genre anymore?!
I wanna point out that, despite seeing Rhea/Seiros do the dragon thing, the player character never told Claude what the fuck that was about. I feel like one of the first things I would have done after the class reunion would be going, “By the by, did anyone else notice the fucking dragon?!” WHO IS ALSO THE POPE???
Bah.
ANYWAY. Looooong-overdue exposition time!
I notice that Rhea didn’t out Seteth or Flayn, which was nice of her.
Claude, she can turn into a fucking dragon. I don’t think immortality is that far from being plausible.
GOD DAMMIT NEMESIS, CAN YOU FUCK OFF FOR TEN MORE MINUTES.
Uuuuuuugh fine, fuck everything, I’m putting your head on a pike.
CLAUDE, THE SWORD OF THE CREATOR LOOKS LIKE A SPINE.
OF COURSE IT’S MADE OF BONES. A BUNCH OF THE HEROES’ RELICS MOVE ON THEIR OWN!
The frantic music is not helping.
Time to kill a bandit king.
“My flabber is completely gasted by now.” Okay, that made me laugh.
Nemesis’s boss mechanic is pretty neat. To kill him at all, you need to kill all of the minibosses in the level and take down his friendship-based-plot-armor.
Or it would be, if I didn’t already make a habit of steamrolling everyone else on the field before tackling the boss at the end.
CUTSCENE.
Cutscene lesson: “Fuck honor duels.” It’s time for CHAIN SWORD LIMBO.
Claude, your bow shoots LASERS. SINCE WHEN.
Also getting kicked across the field by a dude twice his size didn’t seem to actually affect his mood much.
Awww, Yuri smiles now. Adorable. :D
AND THAT’S A WRAP.
Pairings: Yuri/Sothis (mostly to get them out of the way and see what everyone else would do), Claude/Petra, Raphael/Marianne, Catherine/Shamir, Lorenz/Mercedes, Ashe/Annette, Felix/Sylvain (bad end; the former straight up disappears), Seteth & Flayn wander off, Manuela/Dorothea, Lysithea/Linhardt (again), Leonie/Ignatz, Ferdinand/Bernadetta, Caspar/Hilda, and a couple of people are alone. Cyril gets to actually be a student after the story’s done, though!
Whew, that was fun. Gonna mix up the pairs a bit next time I play through the endgame and see what happens.
#fire emblem three houses#Lang plays Fire Emblem: Three Houses#Lang Plays#spoilers#long post#fire emblem
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