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1kook · 3 years

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card swiped (3)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ Now, Jungkook was never one for romance, far from the sappy type. But why couldn’t he word it more softly, gently? He wasn’t just trying to fuck you, he was trying to… make love. GENRE romance, smut, teensy angst WARNINGS eventual smut, mentions of sex, virginity plays a huge role OTHER college crushes, childhood friends to lovers, besties to lovers, volleyball player!jk, student council pres!oc, seokjin is 32... and a a coach lol<3 RATING m (18+) WC 1.5k

NOTES (!) seokjin being a hot 32 year old <3 jk gets progressively more dumb as it goes, prayer circle <3 lmk what u think !

[ masterlist ]

The truth is, the reason Jungkook doesn’t lie that much is because he’s terrible at it.

His mother had found out soon enough who put that dent on the car after a slip-up at the dinner table. His high school coach had learned he had purposely skipped out on practice after an accidental snapchat and jealous teammate had snitched. And, well. Fifteen minutes after the end of practice finds him sitting outside the gymnasium, a grimace on his face as he considers running back to your room and confessing to all his lies. Admitting he’s still a virgin— which was practically of no use to you —and maybe even revealing his own recently uncovered feelings was the easy way out.

Thankfully, Assistant Coach Kim Seokjin is there to knock some sense into him. The hard plastic of the clipboard they use to outline their attacks smacks him hard over the head, making Jungkook’s bones rattle from his skull down to his toes as he steps up behind him. He whirls around to glare at the perpetrator, only to come face to face with the aforementioned assistant coach. “Go home,” Seokjin says, twirling the gym keys in one hand. “I’m trying to lock up.”

“What’s stopping you,” Jungkook huffs, tucking his knees to his chest, ignoring the awfully rude manner in which Seokjin nudges him away, foot against his back as if he’s just an annoying pile of cardboard boxes in his way.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Seokjin asks casually, doesn’t sit next to Jungkook on the steps because he’s always been a little too posh. According to Taehyung, Kim Seokjin graduated from some elite university in another country with near immaculate all-around player statistics before Jungkook even knew what a volleyball was. His success and fame in the world of collegiate volleyball is why he never wears the standard-issued slippers around the court, always some high-end, luxury brand. One glance slightly to his left has Jungkook meeting the black stripe of the frequently sought after Givenchy sneakers head on.

He scoffs, a sound that Seokjin doesn’t approve of if the karate chop he lands on the back of his neck is anything to go by. “Ow,” Jungkook flinches, pushing him away with an irritated sigh before eventually slumping over his knees again because it’s the exact same thing you do to him sometimes. Study nights— dates, his brain supplies now —where he begins gazing off into space are filled with numerous karate chops to the neck in an effort to get him to focus on his homework. “Come on, Jungkookie,” you always tease, playful smile, lithe fingers toying with the corners of the pages in your book in a way that was almost sensual. But then he does a double-take because he’s aware of the rose-tinted lens he’s unknowingly slapped over it, something he would have maybe not noticed pre-realization of his feelings. And even he is shocked by the absolute seductiveness his brain inserts into an otherwise innocent memory. He’s pretty sure you haven’t called him Jungkookie in years— was his brain trying to hint at something here?

Jungkook groans, knocking his head against his knees as a form of self-punishment for his lecherous thoughts concerning his best friend.

But his show of emotions must move Assistant Coach Kim because, after a moment of trying to concuss himself against his own knee, there’s a hand placed on his shoulder that makes Jungkook pause. He doesn’t even bother turning around, just throws his head back to look at Seokjin upside down. He’s got a double chin from this angle. “It’s a girl, isn’t it,” his coach sighs, looking at Jungkook with what can only be described as an unimpressed expression.

“No,” Jungkook defends even though it’s true. “Can’t I just be sad for oth—“

“I heard Jimin call you a simp on the way out,” Seokjin says rather bluntly. And then he surprises Jungkook a second time as he throws aside his posh status to sit on the dirty concrete steps beside him with a sigh. “What did you do?”

See, Jungkook could lie here and prance off to deal with his own problems. Leaving Seokjin and everyone else in the dark concerning his personal life was, honestly speaking, the smartest thing to do. He didn’t mind his volleyball teammates and friends (in this case, his coach), but he also wasn’t too fond of being relentlessly teased throughout the entire five or more hours they spent together almost every day of the week.

But also…

If what Taehyung had said is true— that being, if Kim Seokjin is the illustrious bachelor who charmed his way into multiple foreign panties all whilst demolishing the spirits of liberos and defensive specialists in another country —then Jungkook needed to capitalize off his presence immediately.

So he lays his cards out flat. “I… might’ve told my best friend I’d take her virginity,” he blurts out, turning to face Seokjin. For the most part, the older man doesn’t look too surprised. If anything, mildly amused. Jungkook quickly adds, “while also being a virgin.”

“You’re a what,” Seokjin exclaims, chokes on his own saliva in an admittedly not Casanova, bachelor-esque fashion that ends with him coughing into his elbow and Jungkook hurriedly patting his back. “You?” Seokjin repeats once he’s composed himself. “Are a— don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Jungkook’s cheeks warm. “No, Coach. I do not have a girlfriend,” he emphasizes, because who knew sharing the details of his (lack of) sex life would be this embarrassing?

Seokjin frowns. “What about that girl?” he asks, and Jungkook raises his brows. “You know the one. Carries around stacks of papers to sign, goes to all the games. The one who pats you on head all the time.” And he’s talking about you, of course he is, but the insinuation that other people might, maybe, possibly, perceive you as his girlfriend makes Jungkook malfunction.

“She’s— That’s—“ he sighs, dropping his head down until his chin touches his chest, brushed against the lucky necklace you’d given him two years ago during their first trip to Nationals. “That’s… my best friend.”

Beside him, Seokjin says, “the one you’re gonna fuck?”

Jungkook lets out a long exhale. “Yes. The one I’m going to fuck.” And it’s so blunt and crude, not that it’s surprising coming from him, but it’s surprising because he’s talking about you. Now, Jungkook was never one for romance, far from the sappy type. But why couldn’t he word it more softly, gently? He wasn’t just trying to fuck you, he was trying to… make love.

The thought must show on his face because Seokjin snorts. “Well, good luck.”

And then he stands up and begins walking down the sidewalk and Jungkook can’t spring up fast enough. “Wait,” he gasps, clutching at his forearm. He feels like a dorky character in those dramas you like so much, the ones you force him into watching every time he comes over. Like he’s some disgraced son looking for his father’s approval. Except Assistant Coach Kim is neither his father nor someone he really wants approval from anyway.

What he does want is pointers. From an experienced pro, if you will.

Jungkook has to swallow down all his pride as a man to ask his next question. “H- How do I—“

Seokjin beats to it him with a flick to the forehead. “I’m your volleyball coach, kid,” he frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not your sex coach.” It’s a sensible rejection, one that Jungkook expected, but still. He deflates, let’s the weight of the world and his heavy gym bag nearly knock him onto the ground.

But Assistant Coach Kim Seokjin is kinder than he lets on and, after one annoyed sigh, let’s him in on the secret Jungkook has been chasing for all his life. (Or, well, for the past few hours since he first propositioned you.)

“The key to impressing your partner is to always act like you know what you’re doing,” he tells him, arms crossed over his shoulders. It’s night now, the campus shrouded in darkness. But Jungkook swears a heavenly light shines down on Kim Seokjin just then, a halo appearing over his head when he jabs a finger against Jungkook’s chest. “Confidence is sexy.”

“Confidence is sexy,” Jungkook repeats, feels like a kid who’s just met his favorite wrestler after years of being an avid fan, watching every match, memorizing every finishing move, collecting every figurine— it’s a little too specific but it makes sense in Jungkook’s case. You would understand this analogy perfectly, having grown alongside him during his iconic wrestling phase (before volleyball). You had indulged him in his interest, had let him practice those Do Not Try at Home moves on you again and again, even when you knew it ended with you bruised and crying, the twin pigtails you used to rock as a kid uneven and messy. But as your best friend, you had let him twist your arm and pin you to the count of three, because that’s what a good best friend did.

And as your best friend, Jungkook was gearing himself up to completely, thoroughly rock your virgin world. Because that’s what a good best friend did.

#networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fic #mine

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birb-tangleblog · 3 years

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Rise of Flynn Rider - THOUGHTS

THE PROMISED LONGER POST ON THE RISE OF FLYNN RIDER- spoiler warning!

Ok so first off, a very brief summary: the book centers on Eugene and Arnie (Lance), childhood best friends. The orphanage they've grown up in is financially struggling, under threat by a crooked tax collector, and they're both aging out of the system; the only clue Eugene has to his parents is a letter from the woman who left him there, which is signed with a ~mysterious symbol~. When a traveling circus run by the Baron (yes, that Baron) passes through town and Eugene learns of a possible lead on his past, the two boys reinvent themselves, join up, and eventually end up entangled in a scheme to steal from the King and Queen of Corona.

I won't lie, I enjoyed this one a lot- it was a fun read, very cozy to curl up with, and even with some contradictions, it felt like a novel that was derivative of the series and set in that world. There are a lot of cameos and references, enough that I think most TTS fans will find something they like to nibble on.

Like I said in my earlier post abt the prologue and first few chapters, I'm so happy that Lance got a role alongside Eugene- he's definitely a secondary character to Eugene’s main, and he does get sidelined somewhat, but it's charming to see his friendship with Eugene and his growing passion for cooking.

'I didn't expect anything, so I'm more delighted and pleasantly surprised than genuinely unhappy with the execution' is a running theme with this book for me and basically the tl;dr of this write-up.

There are soo many cameos and little treats- I get the impression Calonita didn't have the most complete knowledge of the series, but her chats with Chris and interest in the series’ writing definitely show. King Edmund, the Stabbingtons, all of the pub thugs, Weasel, Stalyan, and the Baron all make appearances, and we get cameos from Cap, Maximus, Pascal's mother, and even Cass gets a name drop. Several series-exclusive locations are also mentioned by name- Vardaros, the Spire, and the Forest of No Return.

I'm not immune to the fannish hit of 'hey! I understand that reference!' and I really enjoyed hunting for easter eggs, so even if the presence of the pub thugs in the Baron's crew, or the boys stumbling on Rapunzel's tower in one scene and making nothing of it (yea that happened) is a lil questionable, it made me smile and I can't be mad.

I would just describe this book as 'comfy'.

(That said, I'm a little unsure who all those references are for- I feel like if you hadn't seen the series, you'd lack context and some details would be meaningless, but if you had, I think you might long for more depth and exploration...)

Structure & Progression

Here's the part where I start criticizing the book aimed at middle and elementary schoolers lmao

It's a v short book, but the plot progression still feels a little scattered- it didn’t feel quite like a heist OR a mystery. The subplot that takes up a lot of focus is actually interpersonal conflict between Lance and Eugene- and they reconcile, but not after spending much of the book in a standoff due to a misunderstanding/'liar revealed' trope.

One of Eugene's motivations for joining the circus is spotting a man with a mark on his arm that matches the one from his letter working there, and believing he'll be able to learn more abt his parents from him. He doesn't disclose this to Lance right away, and when it comes out later on, he's upset that Eugene didn't tell him- he feels tricked, and like Eugene's prioritizing his biological family over their bond. I had a hard time with this, b/c I honestly think Eugene could've literally said to Lance, 'hey, joining this circus is a great opportunity to travel, make money, send some back to the orphanage, AND I found something about my parents, will you come with me?' and Lance still would've jumped on it. Later on, there's also another similar miscommunication that deepens the rift.

It feels like manufactured drama, and I would've loved a book of the two of them just being buds, bouncing off each other, and trying to unravel the mysteries of the DK symbol and the Baron's ulterior motives together. Lance's fears of being left behind by his friend absolutely could've surfaced without the misunderstandings, especially the closer they got to the truth. (And I don't think that'd have been dissimilar to the unused 'Trial' episode concept and flashback.)

The pacing itself... meanders. After the boys complete an initiation mission to get a hold of a special key for the Baron, time passes (two weeks in-story) and there's some slice of life as they learn the ropes, get inducted into a lifestyle of thieving (it’s revealed the circus is a front for a crime ring), and get to know the Baron's crew.

I liked these parts and would've kept them in a longer book! But maybe there could've been some fine-tuning here so big events (Eugene stealing for the first time, the heist, the meeting with the mysterious Man with the Mark) weren’t so one-and-done. There are several points where nothing's really happening because the characters can't quite connect with each other, or they're waiting around for an opportunity passively, and that makes for a frustrating exp for me as a reader.

There were also lot of elements I thought were getting set up to come into play later, but not a lot of follow through? The folk hero Lance Archer is mentioned several times and has wanted posters, but we never meet him in the flesh. The Man with the Mark is revealed to be a former member of the Brotherhood(!) named Vedis(!!), but he isn't seen again after Eugene speaks with him... once. (More on this later this post is getting so long omg)

The Baron’s plan is revealed to be stealing a reward offered for the lost princess when it’s on display to the public during a festival. Eugene and Lance balk b/c stealing doesn’t sit well with them, especially when it’s from what are ultimately a family trying to find their lost child- they decide to do the right thing by foiling the scheme/stealing it back and returning it to the royals. It goes a bit pear-shaped and they’re caught, but are forgiven and face no consequences after explaining, other than being ousted from the circus/crime ring and making enemies of the Baron. Eugene hasn’t given up on finding the DK, but he realizes he already has a family in Lance, and that’s the most important thing; the two resolve to travel the world and have adventures together.

I want to make another post on it, but at the least it feels like a foregone conclusion given we know ‘Flynn Rider’ goes on to become a renown thief who steals the crown of the lost princess- that’s literally the plot of the movie, and being a dashing rogue is Flynn’s defining trait- so even aside from questionable ideas about wealth, class, and morality, the novel’s ending doesn’t fit what’s firmly established about his character, and I think big fans of Eugene might have an even harder time with that then me.

(I’m very suspicious that there might’ve been some executive meddling in an attempt to soften young Eugene’s character, and send a more palatable/upstanding message to children- it feels like Disney editing the old SW films to show Han didn’t shoot first.)

It’s def one of those novels where you can take some elements you like and leave others, but overall I’d still rly rec it for series fans! I’ve been buzzing and what-iffing about it for a few days, and I got some tasty tidbits on the characters and nods to the series, which is exactly what I wanted out of it.

And maybe it’s a funky take, but honestly I want to think of this book as the beginning of an alternate timeline where Lance and Eugene got out of crime earlier, Eugene got a clue abt his heritage by chance, and it changed his course. I think embracing the retcons and contradictions to canon makes for an interesting angle, and you’ll enjoy it more if you don’t take it too seriously.

#OKAY PHEW GOD took me way too long to post this #I'd consider this a general reaction/impression and overview #and I have more written that I want to sort out into posts abt Eugene's char AND my thoughts on Vedis as a Brotherhood Stan™#if I included it here it'd have been like... another 1k words lmfao #hopefully I can post those in the next day or so!#I have no idea how to structure proper reviews man I just want to yammer #I'm honestly just having fun reacting to smth new again C:#the rise of flynn rider #text post #my post #eugene #lance

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hageny · 3 years

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Succession Thoughts: Gerri x Roman

1. Humor.

There’s something that happens early in the series that is perhaps passed over as being noteworthy, but is an interesting glance in to why Roman and Gerri get on so well later on. When Tom is asking Gerri in Sad Sack Wasp Trap how she got the information that he was planning to go public with the cruise line allegations, Gerri very sarcastically tells Tom that she is sleeping with his mother, who has blurted the information out in her sleep. On the surface this is just a clever quip to break the tension between them, but it’s an unusual response from someone as aloof and quiet as Gerri. The flippancy of this moment recalls much of what comes out of Roman’s mouth, his habit of using sexual innuendo to ratchet up the tension, his delight in making others uncomfortable; there’s an interesting parallel between this moment and the moment a few episodes later when Roman tells Ken that Lawrence likes him more because, “I look like a matador and everyone wants to fuck me.” Humor of a sexual nature is an interesting fallback for both Gerri and Roman.

2. Dirty work.

In the Dundee episode, when the children are scheming about how to get rid of Rhea and diffuse the hold she has over Logan, Roman says something intriguing that he delivers in such an off-hand, low key way that it almost is easy to overlook. He tells Shiv--who later tells Tom--to have Rhea mention Rose in her toast to Logan. Rose is Logan’s sister, and what her fate/relationship to him is is unknown to us at this time, but from his reaction and the general information we derive from his childhood, one can deduce it is not good. This moment highlights another bit of Roman’s brilliance. He pawns the task of mentioning Rose to Rhea--knowing she has no clue the importance of Rose, or that mentioning her at all is a terrible idea--to his sibling, who then passes the torch to her husband. This is brilliant because had Roman said something to Rhea himself, the information might’ve gotten back to Logan, so he wisely uses Shiv, whose husband is under her thumb most of the time, to do the dirty work for him, likely knowing that Tom won’t mention the idea was Roman’s, and if he does no one would pay any attention anyway. Though he tells Shiv this, when we see Roman with Rhea, he is just charming enough not to arouse her suspicions, and pliant enough to keep her guessing as to what he truly thinks. Is he truly as charmed by her as he pretends to be, or is he simply mimicking Gerri in doing this? It’s hard to say, but like the later scene with Laird, Roman exhibits a level of cunning that is important to take note of, his emotional intelligence once again at play and helping to keep his hands clean.

3. Wife and Mother.

A curiosity I’ve taken note of in reading some fanfiction is that many fans seem to believe--and then depict--the marriage between Baird and Gerri as fairly idealistic, and her role as a mother as distant--to varying degrees--but ultimately loving. My opinion is quite different. The basis for this is the scene above the night before Shiv’s wedding when Shiv asks her godmother for advice and Gerri simply replies, “Oh I don’t know, I was never very good at that. My husband died. Don’t let him die?” . Her response is so curiously cold and flippant, especially considering Baird has passed on, that I think it needs dissecting. This is only the second time Baird is ever mentioned, and her daughters are only brought up once, at the very end of Season 2. We don’t know exactly what role Baird might have played in Waystar or how important he was, and much of his character is shrouded in mystery, but Gerri’s reaction in the above scene perhaps provides a clue. The fact that the first thing that Gerri thinks to say is, “I was never very good at that” is very telling, and allows some insight into her ability to self-reflect and report honestly on her own shortcomings. Given that the relationship between Shiv and Gerri seems almost non-existent, it’s even more unusual that Gerri would think to be so bracingly honest when lying would have been more comfortable. Even Shiv, by no means the softest, most emotional person, seems taken aback by Gerri’s coldness. Does Gerri’s saying, “My husband died” just after that indicate that on some level she blames herself for his death, feels that maybe she was not present enough in her marriage and not there enough for him when he ultimately did pass? It’s possible. It’s worth noting also that she never makes an effort to speak warmly of him. She mentions that he’s dead twice, but that is all she says about him, as though the whole of his character is wrapped up in a dead corpse. Is her silence ultimately more telling, revealing a darker truth that existed and impacted her in her union, turning her into what she is? My belief is that their marriage was quite far from comfortable and ideal, and that, while Gerri loved her children, she was not maternal enough to provide for them in the capacity they needed, and that Karl’s remark about her boarding them in first class on the company plane could have been a way of assuaging her guilt over failing them. This also allows us another peek into her bond with Roman, who is part lover to her and part son, of sorts. He is young enough and clumsy enough to be influenced and to need guiding, but strong and sure enough to take hold of her when she needs it and make her feel wanted. Perhaps the best of Gerri’s character traits--her kindness, her thoughtfulness, her generosity--finally find their home in her relationship with him, allowed to flourish in ways they couldn’t before. While she manipulates not only Kendall but her own goddaughter, she extends to Roman a level of love she possibly failed to provide even her own family.

#gerri/roman #gerri x roman #gerri kellman #roman roy #succession #succession hbo #hbo succession #succession thoughts

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fellowstrangetownappreciator · 3 years

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The Strange Case of The Strangetown Metamorphosis

There is a mysterious Sim that appears in Strangetown.

That's like saying "there is a fish that appears in the ocean", I know, so I'll be a little more specific.

They are an adult whose memories show inconsistencies with those of their family members. Something is missing!

Alright. That's also not saying much, that's like half of the premades in vanilla, non-clean hoods.

They are immediately recognizable by their appearance and, dare I say it, have distinguishing features unique to them.

Well, that also kinda fits everyone...

They feature in more than one installment of the series.

Again, not that helpful. I mean, almost everybody from the base game hoods is (for better or worse) represented in TS3 or TS4.

They appear in TS2 for PSP!

Hmm...

They are a member of a wealthy family connected to science and paranormal.

And...

They are somehow connected to (possible) cloning.

I imagine that now you’re probably rolling your eyes and asking: Why didn’t I just simply say I was going to talk about Bella Goth?

Because... I’m not!

It’s Loki Beaker. In this mini-essay I’m going to speak about Loki, what is the mystery around him, what hints are there and what are some of the theories and which one do I fancy.

It’s basically a routine round of the popular game “connect EAxis’ oversights and glue them together into a headcanon”.

So without further ado, let me introduce you to:

The Mystery of Loki Beaker!

0: Preface: Loki who?

“As soon as he perfects his latest invention, Loki is sure to get the recognition he knows he deserves. In the meantime, he keeps himself busy by trying to assemble a nuclear reactor out of common household items.”

On the first glance, Loki as a Sim seems quite straightforward. He is a Knowledge Sim with a very eccentric personality. All his trait points are in the extremes, as you can see:

He is a scientist, a competent one at that, as proven by his high career level and the fun fact that some of the game’s horrible machinery you can buy for Aspiration points is attributed to his creation.

(It explains why are the Beakers the only ones who have the stuff lying around by default. It is normal for a Strangetown family to own a non-buyable reward object or two but those are career rewards, the Beakers are the only one who canonically own Aspiration points rewards.)

Even though he knows his stuff when it comes to his profession, he is very corrupt and tests his questionable projects on his captive, Nervous Subject.

To say that Loki is unpopular would be an understatement. No one but his wife Circe likes Loki, even his own sister is indifferent towards him. Yes, he has a sister. Her name is Erin and she also lives in Strangetown with a colorful collection of roommates.

Nothing mysterious about him so far. (apart from his eyebrows)

1: Characterization fallen apart

And then The Sims 3 happened. It was actually quite late into the game’s life cycle, the early 2013, when a beautiful nordic-themed world was released on TS3 Store. Its name was Aurora Skies and it featured Loki, Erin and their parents.

TS3 Loki is a child and Erin is a toddler.

Now I haven’t actually played Aurora Skies. I own (and love) TS3 but the price range for the Store worlds is too high for me, content-to-money wise. So there might be some hidden clues about the Beakers in their house or relationship panels that I haven’t been able to inspect but... not to sound cynical but I doubt it. I doubt such attention was given to detail of this family in Aurora Skies, as they don’t even have individual bios.

But... that is... fine? I mean, we have Loki’s TS2 bio...

Nope. Sure we do. And it would be fine if hair color and ambitions weren’t the only thing Loki and his younger self (from now on referred to as smol Loki) had in common.

Let’s take a look on smol Loki’s personality.

The first noticeable thing is that there is not a trace of Loki’s trademark villainy. He’s not Mean Spirited, he’s not Evil, he’s not even a No Sense of Humor Sim. His extreme neatness and hyperactivity are nowhere to be seen either. While it is true that TS3′s capabilities of defining personality are very limited as it picks “outstanding points” rather than a position of each trait on a scale, and it only has 5 slots (and tiny teeny 3 for children), it doesn’t make any sense still for the devs not to pick some more loki-esque traits for the precious slots they had.

Unless...

They didn’t care about Loki’s personality and there were no deeper intentions.

Unless the devs were trying to purposefully show us new angles of his character that either got suppressed while he was growing up, or manifest in ways that TS2′s scale system wasn’t able to show.

Could the Lucky trait in particular have had something to do with the change?

(Also, those traits of smol Loki are reason why I usually go for a Family Secondary Loki in TS2 and thus make Strangetown the purgatory of two unstable blonde Knowledge/Family sciency guys.)

We also must not omit that even though smol Loki didn’t display any of them, he still had all of Loki’s signature traits in him, as Loki in TS2 has his actual personality synced with the genetic one, meaning that there was something in there that caused him not to act so mean that got lost as he grew up. In other words, something brought up the worst in him.

And that’s not all. Smol Loki is not a regular TS3 child. You see, in TS3, premade children aren’t particularly known for being highly skilled experts. Neither are in TS2, for that matter, and it’s okay. It’s realistic.

Smol Loki has a skill maxed.

It is very rare for a premade regardless of age to already start with a maxed skill and I personally don’t know of any other premade children that do.

And it’s writing.

What does writing have to do with Loki? Does Loki write? Probably he has to, those academic papers aren’t gonna spawn out of thin air, but that’s not what the writing skill in TS3 (or the hidden writing skill in TS2) are about. They’re about creative writing only.

Ok, ok. How high is Loki’s Creativity skill, then? In TS2, skills are much broader, they more resemble skillsets than individual skills, and writing categorizes under Creativity. Bring out the skill panel!

Two. He has 2 points in Creativity. That is... low. That is actually very low, especially for a Sim that has supposedly been writing for fun since childhood. (and was a prodigy, while we’re at it) It is safe to say, I think, that if the player doesn’t make him do it, Loki doesn’t write anymore and he hasn’t been doing that for a long, long time.

While I would cynically admit that the dissonance in personalities might be just the lack of damns given from EAxis’ side, this seems to me too on the nose to be unintentional.

They would have no reason to bring the Beakers back without the “evil scientists” thing in mind. I mean, that’s what they’re iconic for. That’s what they’re recognizable by. (apart from their eyebrows)

So the person who was in charge of creating smol Loki probably knew they were recreating “Loki the mad scientist”.

So when they were picking the skill they use to demonstrate that this kid is gonna go far, they thought... “evil scientist = writing”...?

I would understand going for Creativity in general. I mean, Loki’s an inventor. That comes with the territory. But creativity as such isn’t really a skill in TS3. It’s divided to different activities.

Wouldn’t it make more sense just in general to pick logic, then? I mean, Loki isn’t that extremely logical by default but it is his second strongest skill and a feature unmistakably connected to being a scientist.

That’s what leads me to believe that writing plays a role in the story and it was chosen on purpose.

So how did a sweet little family-oriented boy talented with words transform into the ruthless catboy inventor we know and love?

And that, my friends, is the mystery of Loki Beaker.

2: A closer look at our environmentalist friends, the Beakers

If we want to get the full picture and come to a satisfying conclusion of some sorts, we need to inspect smol Loki’s surroundings. Maybe there is a clue to the continuous force or a traumatic event that shifted smol Loki’s direction in life?

Loki’s and Erin’s parents are named Gundrun and Bjorn. Even though their age would still allow it, they’re not present at the start of TS2′s Strangetown play, they’re long dead. Bjorn died before Erin became an adult and Gundrun died shortly before her son’s engagement to Circe. Because they died by the time Loki had (presumably) already long enrolled in his current life-path, we can safely rule out any tragic early death of parental figures scenario as a possible answer.

Gundrun is the only Beaker that canonically also writes. She has 5 points in the writing skill. She also shares some traits with Loki, namely the smarts and ambition.

But she has little to do with science and is way more business-oriented which is a trait she shares with Circe’s ancestors, for example her father. Maybe the families knew each other from business ventures even before they moved to Strangetown? It is stated in their memories that Loki and Circe first met when they were children. But I digress!

Anyway, I don’t see anything in Gundrun that would suggest any abusive behavior towards her son that might have triggered his drastic change. Possibly but not necessarily she might’ve been a bit absent but nothing out of ordinary.

And now the father, Bjorn.

Bjorn is the sciency half of the couple and works as an Aquatic Ecosystem Tweaker. Again, he has zero traits that would raise any red flags and he shares 4 out of 5 traits with either smol Loki or Loki. (I don’t know if Loki is a “natural cook” but he cooks quite well, so I think that counts.)

What’s interesting about Bjorn, though, is his speech that serves as a flavor text for the Aurora Skies store page.

(Image transcript: “Do it for science! Science is everywhere around us, but at Aurora Skies it’s not just something you learn; it’s something you do! We need bright young minds to make the dreams of the future a reality. Even now we’re finding more uses for garbage to help the planet. Charging batteries, powering machines - the sky is the limit. Just this last year we created a modified Hot Air Baloon using garbage as fuel and turning it into pure air with a pine breeze scent. Now you can have efficient travel and an amazing romantic adventure with no cost to the ozone (or your nose)! Every year we’re creating more and more exciting things in the world of science. Garbage-powered hearts, heart-powered cars, solar-powered cats; what will you think of next! It’s all up to you. Do it for Science! Did you know? Hot Air Balloons are an epic form of travel based around the simple principle that hot air is lighter than cold air. They lift in the air based on the heat system in the balloon. Increasing the temperature of the air inside the balloon makes it lighter than the air outside and the balloon begins to float. More air is required to lift heavier things; that’s why the balloons have to be so huge! How cool (or hot!) is that?”)

From this piece of text we can see Bjorn’s passion and dedication to “green” science. Nothing in his traits suggests he fakes it, so I think it’s safe to believe that this peppy idealist is a glimpse into Loki’s father’s genuine self.

He might have encouraged his children to follow in his footsteps (”We need bright young minds to make the dreams of the future a reality.“) and smol Loki, who later in life seemed to have similar levels of enthusiasm (science is his One True Hobby), might have been receptive to that.

Now just close your eyes for a second and imagine an alternate reality in which Loki picked up where Bjorn left and instead of a energy-refilling machine that electrocutes you if you’re not happy enough, he invented “solar-powered cats”.

Still no hints on what could’ve messed Loki up, though.

Let’s take a look at the parents in TS2. Even though they’re not present and aren’t even resurrectable, they’re still coded in the game for purposes of genetics, memories and family trees, so some of their characteristics are salvageable.

And by the Watcher, they were both Romance Sims.

They were workaholic Romance Sims who cared about the environment and liked recycling (and Hot Baloons).

And they were both extremely Nice and very Sloppy, if their personalities on wiki are something to go by. Which they unfortunately aren’t, at least not completely because most ancestors don’t simply have “their own” personalities and use presets instead, so they tend to be quite similar.

The same goes for most of the Beaker clan, unfortunately. Fun fact is that there is no Knowledge Sim in sight (before Loki, of course). Maybe they weren’t a scientist family, but a bunch of Romance Sims who used to spend their free time in between woohoos saving the planet with eco-science. (3 out of 6 of Loki’s and Erin’s ancestors were Romance Sims, 2 were Fortune and 1 was Family)

But! There is one outlier. Her name is Gertrude Beaker. She is Loki’s paternal grandmother.

And similarly to her grandson, she certainly has a personality to remember.

She doesn’t use a preset, this is a personality that someone went and manually assigned (...or generated) for her. And she is Neat, Outgoing and doesn’t have a nice bone in her body. But unlike Loki, she has a sense of humor (which makes her even more dangerous, in my opinion) and is extremely Lazy.

She is a Fortune Sim and the only Beaker who shares the darker sides of Loki’s personality. (to be clear, I don’t mean their taste for cleaning but the round 0 of Nice points)

Because she doesn’t feature in TS3 at all, it is safe to say that she wasn’t in her grandchildren’s lives until the family moved to Strangetown. Could she be the corrupting influence on smol Loki?

As far as personality comparison goes, she seems to be the only possible culprit, the only one who’s personality shares the same unpleasant qualities he became infamous for. But! That’s not saying much. There is no evidence she actually did anything.

There’s not even any evidence that she ever met her grandson, given he has no memory of her dying which means she might have died before he was even born. That would be a solid evidence on the contrary and would rule her out. But I’m leaving some maneuvering space for theories here because she is the only Beaker ancestor with custom personality, after all, and that is suspicious.

That’s all the Beakers we know of if not counting Atom and Ceres, who came after Loki, so they’re not relevant to the question of his childhood. Or... are they?

3: And that’s when the trouble began

Another part of this question that might help us discern what happened to Loki is the when. All we know so far is that there is a big void of unknown between smol Loki and regular Loki and the point of transformation happened in there somewhere.

Thankfully, we have something to give us an idea. It’s this snapshot in storytelling pictures for the Beakers:

It shows smol Loki destroying a dollhouse. It seems to be in an impersonal environment of some sorts. The cheapest bed in the game is against a bare white wall, the window is hid behind blue curtains and there doesn’t really seem to be anything else but the dollhouse, a teddy bear in the background and that... very unpleasant bed.

It clearly tells us that Loki’s shift started in his pre-teen years.

And seeing that room which is definitely not in the Beaker Castle at 1 Tesla Court, it makes me think of a hotel or a cheap apartment the family was staying in while moving from Aurora Skies to Strangetown. Maybe the castle-like something the household inhabits at the start of the game wasn’t a property of the Beakers at all, maybe that was where the Salamises used to live and now it belongs to Circe?

Anyway, could it had been leaving Aurora Skies that sent smol Loki down an existential crisis and settling in the not exactly welcoming environment of Strangetown, enrolling in a local school, that sealed it?

But why all the stuff with writing? This would work with any other hobby but somehow it had to be writing and it’s our task to find out why.

4: Not your average tragedy

Now in our search we already have some ideas but it wouldn’t be thorough if we didn’t take into account smol Loki’s actual personality. I mean, we went into what traits he doesn’t have but what about those he has?

Namely Lucky and Family-Oriented.

I think Lucky is a very interesting choice. There’s nothing inherent about Loki Beaker that would make you go “that’s one lucky guy!” (if you don’t count his relationship with Circe as a stroke of luck, that is) and the same goes for smol Loki.

But... it could be a clue. His metamorphosis either couldn’t be triggered by trauma because he’s lucky and it would avoid him, or it must’ve been something tremendously horrid so he’s lucky he’s still alive.

Now we know we are searching for something that happened in his late childhood, verging on the start of his teenage years. His family was going through the turmoil of moving to a desert and he has already known his future partner Circe. Meanwhile Erin-

Oh, wait. Erin.

Smol Loki was Family-Oriented which implies he would probably have a good relationship with his little sister, as he would’ve naturally inclined to protect her and help his parents take care of her. But!

Not only do they have an amicable but distant relationship as adults but Erin seems to forget that Loki even existed in her childhood.

He has the usual set of memories of a sibling growing up well but she doesn’t, she has no Loki-related memories at all, not even of his marriage, which was a quite recent event.

Could the reason for Loki’s “downfall” be somehow related to his sister? Was there a dramatic event in which she lost a part of her memory?

5: Theories!

Ok, we’re finally here! Now I try to present some theories about what might’ve happened.

1. Burdens of the golden child

In Aurora Skies, Loki used to be the little wonder every relative was gushing about. With his father as an acclaimed scientist and a very liked person in general, there was little to no adversity his son had to face. He followed his passion and having nobody to really compare himself to, nor anybody who would terrorize him, he prospered.

But then the Beakers moved. Strangetown was... different. It was way smaller than Aurora Skies, so everybody inherently knew everybody and everybody had to interact with everybody... because the small space of a desert community didn’t leave them with any choice. And it was bleak and unfriendly. No one except for the Salamises knew the Beakers, so they found themselves under scrutiny from their new neighbors.

So Loki, who used to live thinking he was unique, was now sitting everyday in a much smaller classroom with Pascal and Vidcund Curious, whom he was immediately being compared to. But he wasn’t like the Curiouses. He was a kid of a scientist but wasn’t a science kid. He didn’t have much in common with Pascal who approached him and tried to befriend him at first but he wanted to. In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science. Pascal’s and Loki’s communication attempts were rather poor, though, and in the end, they never made friends. Loki slowly began to disdain the oldest Curious boy and it culminated a few years later in high school when Pascal made an attempt to woo Circe. It was even worse with Vidcund. Ever since Loki’s first day at the new school, Vidcund had been eyeing him with a disgusted look and Loki became quick to reciprocate.

In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science. Even Circe was on it! She was the only person his age he has know in Strangetown before his family moved in and he liked her. Not “like” liked her, yuck! But he thought she was cool. Her family used to visit the Beakers in Aurora Skies and they played together. She was a friend! Or so Loki thought. She seemed to like hanging out with the Curiouses much more.

In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science, yes. But not in the eyes of Buzz Grunt, the son of a general who lived in Strangetown. Their family were the self-proclaimed protectors of the hood but at the same time they weren’t shy to show a strong distaste for all that made Strangetown an important desert settlement in the first place. And little Buzz, although Loki doubted he understood the nuances, was very fond of asserting his dominance over his less sporty and hyper-masculine classmates.

Suddenly jealous of the Curious brothers, under pressure from both the adults and his peers comparing him to them and bullied by Buzz, Loki’s social life fell apart. He started having problems... and he came up with solutions. He has always liked science but from back then on he hyperfixated on it to prove everybody who picked on him for being a worthless parody of a science kid wrong.

Not only his social life and self-confidence were busted, though. Moving away from Aurora Skies to Strangetown that had much higher prices for housing because of the limited space, the living standards for the Beakers lowered. It was chaotic and uncomfortable. Plus, almost everybody in Strangetown was loaded. Why, Circe and her parents lived in a small castle! Loki felt like they’re the only “poor” family around and it played into his new-found insecurities.

And then there was Erin’s accident. She suffered a severe head injury and even though she fortunately survived, she was never... the same. She had issues with her memory. Loki tried to convince himself that he’s big enough not to cry but when they were visiting Erin in the hospital and she didn’t recognize him, he cried. It was his little sister! And... it was all his fault anyway! If he was quicker and pushed her to safety, she would’ve been fine! Or even better, he wished the car would’ve hit him instead.

Loki was becoming more and more snappy, focused on his grades and projects, unavailable. The siblings never mended their relationship, Erin, even though she recovered, never got to make new memories with her brother. Not remembering them growing up together, he was like a stranger to her. A scary mean teenage boy she didn’t know and, even though she was a very friendly child, she was too intimidated to willingly spend time with him. And Loki was always busy and moreover, he felt guilty and inexplicably angry, so he postponed approaching her, until it was too late, he was in college, she was in high school and it was too awkward.

And... there was no time to write anymore.

2. Gertrude the Neat and Mean (and Lazy)

Ok, Loki doesn’t have any memories of his grandma. But hear me out! Erin does not have any of him either and yet they met. This theory doesn't require any additional write up – he simply got under the influence of his 0 Nice points granny and she cultivated him to be just like her.

My personal take: This is maybe my least favorite theory of them all, even though it is quite straightforward. It doesn't take much into consideration and demonizes Gertrude, who as far as we know, might not done anything wrong.

3. The accident

This theory takes advantage of TS3's canon sciency machinery, namely Cerebralizing Brain Enhancing Machine 2.0.

It can, among other things, change a Sim's personality. There is (quite unfortunately, in my opinion) no chance of consequential failure in the actual game, the most it can do is to (non-fatally) electrocute your Sim. But...

Imagine smol Loki sneaking into his dad's laboratory, most probably at his workplace.

He was curious. Ever since his father showed him all the equipment in there, all he could think of was the machine that made people smarter.

Maybe it could make him smarter?

I mean, Loki knew he was already quite smart. At least, he's been told he was and he had no reason not to believe it.

But he could be even smarter.

He could be like his dad. Or his mom. Or Erin. Everyone was talking about how clever young Erin seemed. Loki was proud of her but part of him just wanted that, too.

So what if... he went to dad's laboratory, just for a little while, and made himself smarter?

He made all the necessary preparations. It meant to memorize dad’s schedule, so he knew just the time when he could sneak into the laboratory. It also meant to get a good costume so he won’t be recognizable on the security footage!

And then finally, he was ready. To infiltrate the laboratory was easy enough but it only made Loki more nervous. He was on the edge but determined. He wanted to make it big in the world. He needed to seize the opportunity. And fear... fear was there to be ignored! Hands, stop trembling!

His confidence grew a bit once he got to the machine itself. He knew how to run it thanks to his dad and it made him feel competent and ready.

Little did he know that there was a huge oversight. Although Loki could operate the technology on a very basic level, his knowledge went nowhere near deep enough for him to detect that the machine has yet another set of settings and those currently expect an adult user. It wasn’t configured for a child patient.

But unaware of that, the boy in his patchy dinosaur costume climbed on top of the machine and with his eyes wide open and his heart racing he connected the Brain Enhancer to his system. Then, with his hand sweating, he pushed a button on a remote he was clutching to.

When Bjorn, alerted by Loki’s screams, rushed into the laboratory, it was way too late.

As his terrified father was calling the ambulance, the child was alive and even still awake. He was too weak to cry. He just watched Bjorn, wishing for death and looking for signs of wrath in father’s eyes.

There were none. Only fear.

Physically, Loki Beaker managed to recover just fine. With the power of advanced medicine and plastic surgery, the burns he suffered were reduced to nothing but almost invisible scars.

But inside, he was never the same. Literally. Even though the procedure backfired horribly, it still worked to some extend - but even that extend was warped. Loki succeeded in giving himself the Genius trait but several of his traits were replaced also, including the Lucky trait that probably saved his life.

6: Conclusion!

I like Loki very much. (no sh*t, who would’ve guessed) He’s a very controversial and over-the-top character who tends to be rather unpredictable in the actual gameplay. I started writing this giant thing to find an answer to his backstory that would satisfy me and hopefully also some of you.

With a heavy heart I conclude I’m not successful.

First I have to admit I originally planned to present 5 theories instead of 3 but I scrapped 2 of them.

First was about Atom time traveling and replacing Loki, creating himself again and again in a time loop (would explain the huge personality difference between smol Loki and Loki-Atom) and it was very far-fetched but fun, alas I realized it was out of character for Atom, since he seems to love his sister and his Plumbot so much he would hardly leave them behind to pull that off.

The second was about Nervous and the corrupting power of Death he has inside that would slowly drive Loki and Circe “evil” even though it’s unclear whether they first adopted him with being a lab-rat in mind. But it would not make sense since a change like that would be visible on their personality panels. That’s not that important, though. What made me not include this theory is that it feels uncomfortably victim blame-y. It’s not directly since it wouldn’t be Nervous’ fault anyway but any attempt to shift the blame from Loki and Circe in this situation feels uncomfortable.

(To be clear, I don’t think the Beakers deserve demonization. In my opinion, the best way to treat them narrative-wise is like eccentric people capable of feeling love and doing good things sometimes, yet irredeemably self-centered, morally bankrupt and deserving a lifetime in jail for child abuse they have done on Nervous. Not one-dimensional but still villains and still objectively bad people.)

And those 3 theories above? They could’ve been better.

I think I like the first the most, even though I still feel like something is missing. I just tend to like relatively grounded explanations and this one doesn’t feature the supernatural nor any deus ex machina gadget.

What about you? And do you have any other theories? Sky’s the limit! It’ll make my day to hear them!

Whatever your takes are, they’re all valid.

#loki beaker #strangetown #premades #the sims 2 #the sims #simbrl #headcanon #ts2

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powerosewaterpuff · 4 years

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so i was having some late night feels (angst) aaanddd i’m adding onto the reverse robin au i was playing around with a while ago, which is jason being the oldest of the batkids with dick coming while he’s bruce’s partner aaaand yk i might’ve cried bUt yOU CANT PROVE ANYTHING

dick and jason had a little ritual they would do, whenever jason came back from patrol they would sit together, some reality tv playing as they just talked. it was mundane, and really wasn’t all that special as they debated whether real housewives of beverly hills was better than real housewives of new jersey, but dick found himself desperately yearning for it as he curled underneath jason’s bedsheets, hugging an old sweater that smelled like his older brother, whispering to a pillow, pretending that maybe it was jason

the night bruce came back, his heart gutted and carved out, resting heavily in his hollow chest, is not a day they ever talk about, ever. dick claims not to remember much of it, too much confusion and heartache. but he remembers counting every single breath bruce took before uttering the words that sent his world crashing down once again. he remembers the racking sobs that pierced into dicks ribs, as he kept repeating a self assuring mantra of thisisnthappeningthisisnthappeningthisisnthappening. he remembers bruce collapsing onto the caves floors, the weight of the world crushing him with its unrelenting rage. he remembers feeling paralyzed, unable to reach out to bruce and unable to comprehend what was happening, just like how frozen he was when his mother just slipped past his fingers, just brushing against it ever so lightly before crashing into a mess of blood and brain. he remembers running, running up the stairs, running from alfreds call, running from bruce’s shaking hand reaching out for him, running into jason’s room because he was alive, he knew he was alive this was all nightmare constructed in his head, only a nightmare that was bound to end (it never did)

bruce was against robin. bruce was against every shred of robin. he was against the idea of robin, the conception of robin, anything that had to do with robin was banned. he wouldn’t hear of it. but dick was always told he was a little bird born with a lions heart, and he proudly displayed it. he fought and fought and fought, because goddamnit bruce you’re killing yourself. bruce never really allowed it, but dick still did it. bruce would be on a constant lecture in patrols that consisted of go home right now or i’m dragging you back cape and all. it never really worked though, no matter how hard bruce tried to suppress it. dick would just come out the next night, ready to fight crime by bruce’s side with too much heart and too much enthusiasm (it was jason all over again.)

dick became far better at faking smiles from then on. it was ironic, if he really thought about it. his own performer parents had never taught him to lie so well, to grin so easily when his heart was aching with an immovable weight. but he knew he had to do it. his days were a sacrifice he was willing to give to make bruce content, if he could even do that. he knew bruce never slept, so he would trot into his room and plop onto his bed, and force bruce to read a book to him. dick didn’t really sleep, but he knew it brought bruce some shred of comfort when his son was by his side, safe and present. it was okay, really it was. dick could fake smiles for the rest of his life if it made bruce smile at him one more time.

bruce hadn’t been able to stomach looking at jason’s grave ever since the funeral. dick went every other day. he did a similar thing with his parents, because a lesson he had always been taught by them was that the dead while may not be able to talk back, did quite enjoy being talked to. maybe it was a silly childhood reassurance, to sooth dicks worries about death, but it helped. he would sit by jason’s grave and discuss anything and everything. he told him about how he had met this girl barbara who was the commissioners daughter and she was really awesome. he would blather on about how wally has already hit a growth spurt and roy was even taller then both of them which annoyed him to no end. it leaned towards nervous rambling at some point but that was okay, dick liked talking. it helped quiet his mind.

it was the small things that dick noticed that were never going to be the same. jason’s “designated” spot at the kitchen table was never touched. the console he had bought when he was around 14 wasn’t touched until a solid year later, but even then dick felt a little weird playing anything without jason’s snarky comments. waking up in the morning to go to school without jason either throwing a pillow at his face or dumping a bottle of water onto him is something he hates. jason’s phone was also kept in its exact spot, inside of the drawer of his nightstand without ever moving. (dick used to call it sometimes, just to hear the voicemail. he would leave a message behind too, but no one knew. no one ever found out about it either.)

dick hated how much he missed being called sky monkey. it was such a stupid nickname, from all the plethora of nicknames he had generously given jason the permission to use, he had stuck with baby bird and sky monkey. but jason used to laugh about it, telling him dick would never get a more fitting description of himself.

dick and bruce had one of their most heated arguments over that stupid plaque and case. dick remembers spitting out that bruce could stand looking at that good soldier but couldn’t even go see his sons grave. he knows it’s a low blow, but he’s burning with confusion and venom is dripping from his tongue. they (dick) talk about it a few night later, hug it out and what not, but it was a moment dick realized just how emotionally stunted bruce was and it set off a little angry flame in his chest. one that never quite fizzled out, but changed to sadness as the years went on.

it was weird reading shakespeare the first time in class for dick. he kept imagining jason’s voice in a midsummer nights dream. he kept closing his eyes and seeing the scene fold out in his head. jason playing lysander as he had his lines memorized the best, pouring every ounce of talent into his grand performance in their bedroom. dick had a little script in hand as he played puck, with each of them swapping out roles as the other characters. they had pranced around the room, hopping onto furniture and climbing onto beds. dick felt sick to his stomach playing lysanders role in a class reading, because he could hear so fucking clearly jason’s voice with his brimming accent come to life in his head. (or maybe it was because he felt an unexplainable feeling of pure guilt, because he lived. he’s playing lysander now. jason isn’t. and dick feels like a fucking thief)

(i’m stopping there before i cry oOPS I-UH IMMA GO REWATCH 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU BC THIS AU HAS A WAY OF DESTROYING MY HEART BUT I LOVE IT SO MUCH ANYWAYS?? OH OH AND IF ANYONE HAS ANY GOOD BATFAM FIC RECS LIKE WHOLESOME FAMILY ONES PLS SEND THEM MY WAY PLS AND THANK YOU :)!! )

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itsthenovelteafactor · 3 years

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Vanya and the Phantom

I asked and y’all answered (special thanks to @schizoidwire and @the-aro-ace-arrow-ace and all the people who responded to my earlier post for encouraging me!), so it is time for how The Phantom of the Opera song introduction can be read as a look into Vanya’s self-narrative and also foreshadows future events in a really subtle and interesting way.

I’m channeling my inner Elliot and going into full conspiracy mode. This is gonna be a long one, y’all.

Part One: In Which I Expose Myself as a Former Theater Kid

So, for those who aren’t familiar with The Phantom of the Opera, it was originally a novel by French writer Gaston Leroux back in 1909. In 1986, Andrew Lloyd Webber rewrote it as a musical. For purposes of my analysis here, I am just going to be discussing the musical because 1) the score used in the opening scene is from it and 2) I’ve never read the book. (If anyone out there has read the book and wants to weigh in, please do!)

It’s a very aesthetic show, and draws on a lot of gothic themes and imagery. The plot follows an opera house, and specifically a young chorus girl named Christine Daaé. I’m not going to explain the whole show plot in detail because wikipedia exists, but I will do a quick overview here and point out some things as they relate to things I’ll be discussing later. Also there will be a test after and it will NOT be multiple choice.

The show begins when the opera house is sold to new owners who 1) just want to make money and 2) do not respect the opera house’s resident ghost (who isn’t really a ghost, but we’ll get to that later.) When the Phantom makes his presence known, and freaks out the resident prima donna singer (who will be relevant later) Carlotta, who says she won’t sing under these conditions. It is then that Christine appears. She’s quiet and humble and has always lived in the background, but is incredibly talented. The woman who runs the chorus (also owner of the opera house’s resident braincell) suggests Christine sing the part. She does, and is amazing. Everyone is blown away, and she’s catapulted into instant fame and success.

We later learn that Christine has been studying under the Phantom, who appears to her in mirrors. She calls him the Angel of Music, and thinks that he was sent to teach her by her recently deceased father. He isn’t. He’s actually pretty malicious, and is obsessed with Christine, wants to control her voice, and doesn’t like her dating anyone. Which is a bit awkward when her childhood friend shows up and promptly falls in love with her.

Anyways, Carlotta is jealous of the attention Christine has been getting and threatens to leave prompting the new owners to cut Christine from the program. The Phantom doesn’t like it at all, sends a bunch of letters, things escalate, people are murdered, and the whole first act ends with the chandelier falling from the ceiling and crashing onto the stage (which is done with really cool effects, oftentimes beginning the show hanging over the audience. It’s a BIG MOMENT and one of the most iconic ones from the show. This will also be relevant later.)

Act two takes place a few months later, wherein no one has seen the Phantom. Shock of all shocks, though, he’s not dead. He’s been writing an opera and he wants Christine to star in it. More stuff happens, you learn the backstory of the Phantom (which is pretty sad, ngl, but in no way makes him less of a creep) and the story ends with the Phantom kidnapping Christine and giving her an ultimatum: stay with him forever, or he kills Raoul (aka childhood friend/romantic interest guy). She agrees to stay with him and he’s so moved by her compassion that he lets them both go and disappears forever.

Part Two: Casting the Characters

That’s interesting, Rosie (note sarcasm) but you said this was about The Umbrella Academy? I did, in fact. So, we meet Vanya when she’s playing a medley of songs from The Phantom of the Opera. Since it’s primarily the melodies and not one of the orchestral pieces from her performance later (I don’t think), we can assume she’s just playing it for herself (which is nice! good on you, Vanya).

Maybe she’s never seen the play and just likes the score, but for purposes here, let’s assume she’s familiar with it.

You can tell a lot about a person by the stories they connect with (for example, I like TUA because I like fun sibling dynamics, found family, music, and being sad). And I think that it makes sense that The Phantom of the Opera would be a story that resonates with Vanya. The overlooked chorus girl finds power in music, and, after years in the background, is finally given a chance to show how special she is.

So, yeah. I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility that Vanya sees herself as Christine. There are some discrepancies, sure, but this is Vanya’s self-narrative, which we learn pretty much immediately is unreliable. (Love her, but it’s true.) And if Vanya is Christine, then we can try and tap into her perspective to look at some other characters.

Anyways remember Carlotta (the prima donna opera singer who always got the spotlight and tried to destroy everything good that happened to Christine because she felt threatened that someone might be as good/better than her whose entire personality and role in the story I just summarized, rendering my plot recap useless)? Carlotta is how Vanya views Allison. (Kind of all her siblings, but her relationship with Allison is the most important here.)

Think about the scene in the cabin?

“You couldn’t risk me threatening your place in the house! You couldn’t handle the fact that Dad might find me special!” - Vanya, having a mental breakdown.

This always struck me as an interesting accusation to throw, since prior to this moment, I don’t think there was any indication that Allison had ever felt threatened by Vanya. She excluded her, sure, and wasn’t super friendly at times, but the idea that Allison has been pulling strings to keep Vanya out of her spotlight is new. But that is exactly the role Carlotta plays in Phantom.

Fun fact! At one point in the musical, the Phantom enchants Carlotta so that she loses her voice right before coming on stage.

Part Three: The Phantom of the Opera is there

So based on everything I’ve said so far, the most straightforward reading is then, that Leonard Peabody/Harold Jenkins (who for purposes here I’ll call Leonard) is the stand in for the Phantom, which works... really well. Both in helping to understand Vanya and also because it foreshadows the twist of season one in a really cool way.

So, the Phantom appears to Christine first not as an enemy, but as a friend and teacher, who encourages her to be more confident in her abilities. He trains her to develop her singing ability. While the teacher-student dynamic is actually inverted initially with Vanya and Leonard, from the get go, he is showering her with compliments, encouraging her to be confident in her abilities, and, at least on the surface, supporting her in a way she hasn’t been supported before (he’s a trash human but an expert manipulator).

But, in the play, the Phantom is also very possessive over Christine and her power (er, I mean voice). He also is perfectly willing to kill and/or hurt people who he views as standing in the way of Christine and her success (see the aforementioned Carlotta incident). Which is exactly what Leonard does to Vanya. He kills the first chair violinist to help her get it, and orchestrates a whole master plan to get her to reveal her powers on his terms.

Even the part where he starts “training” her to use her powers kind of resembles the second act of the play. The Phantom wrote a play for Christine and she’s going to star in it, whether she wants to or not.

(One could even make the argument of the parallels between Christine believing the Phantom was sent by her father to teach her and Leonard showing up because of his revenge scheme against Vanya’s father, but I honestly don’t have much support for that.)

Part Three: Two Conflicting Narratives

So, as you might’ve noticed, I sort of have two different threads of analysis going on right now. 1) The Phantom of the Opera parallel is part of Vanya’s self-narrative and in it she mischaracterizes Allison, making her more suspicious of her motivations and 2) Leonard Peabody is clearly the Phantom and doesn’t bother being subtle about it. I hope that I’ve been convincing (or at least intriguing) for you to get to this point, because here is where they come together.

Vanya has this parallel going, but she doesn’t see Leonard as the Phantom. In the beginning at least, he’s her Raoul. If I had to guess, I’d say Reginald Hargreeves is the Phantom in Vanya’s self-narrative (says he’ll train her but wants to manipulate her and keep her locked away for himself, strict teacher who doesn’t really care about her well being, wearing a mask to appear more normal/human... she wouldn’t exactly be wrong). Leonard, on the other hand, is Vanya’s supporter. He validates her, and believes in her, and taker her side when Carlotta and the opera house owners (er, the rest of the Hargreeves children) gang up on her and conspire to keep her out.

This is all building to, of course, the final confrontation. The Phantom says Christine has to pick one or the other. When Allison comes to talk to Vanya, Vanya feels as if she’s been given an ultimatum and lashes out.

And that’s where everything (including this parallel) starts to crumble.

(I honestly don’t know a lot about the other characters and how they fit in. I suppose we could have Five = Raoul if we ignore romance plot and focus on the childhood friend that hasn’t been seen in a while angle? And maybe also Pogo = Madame Giry. Vanya doesn’t really have any friends to be Meg.)

Part Four: It’s All About the Moon

So that is kind of the gist of The Phantom of the Opera as a window into Vanya’s self-narrative theory, but there are a couple of other loosely related ideas I thought I might as well bring up since this thing is already ridiculously long.

Remember how I mentioned the chandelier is like, THE scene from The Phantom of the Opera back in part one, and said it’d be relevant later? Bringing that back now, because I’m going to pull a Luther and connect everything to the moon.

So, to get the obvious out of the way, the moon exploding and the chandelier coming crashing to the stage are similar because something falls, breaks into a bunch of pieces, destroys a bunch of stuff, and creates a powerful and memorable image to close off before an act/season break (the next installment of which begins with a time jump).

Additionally, it’s worth mentioning that The Phantom of the Opera is told out of order. The opening scene shows a grown up Raoul at an auction for the items left behind after the opera house closes, and it switches to the past as the remains of the chandelier rise upwards to the ceiling, Phantom’s theme swelling (it’s a really cool moment, tbh). Following the prologue of The Umbrella Academy, we switch to the present with two images: Vanya alone on the stage, and then Luther alone on the moon. Which has a kind of symmetry that might mean nothing, but is still kind of cool.

(Also the item that Raoul buys from the auction is a music box with a monkey crashing symbols on top of it. Which might mean nothing.)

Part Five: How is she STILL talking about this? (AKA Conclusion)

To be honest, this is more a very tangled “things I noticed and thought were interesting” discussion than a formal essay with any clear thesis. While there is a chance that this was all coincidental and I’ve gone full Pepe Sylvia, the music selection in The Umbrella Academy is one of the things that they seem to be really deliberate about.

I would love to chat with anyone about this theory, so feel free to reach out in the notes or message me! My inbox is always open. Much love, and thank you for reading, if you got this far! ❤️

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brittledame · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Shirabu Kenjirou/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, hate-sex, swearing, name calling, light bondage, edging, overstimulation, semi-public sex

Word Count: 6.6K

Summary: Contrary to what you both believed, the tryst in the study room only served to intensify the tense air between you two. Not wanting to acknowledge how he’s been on your mind since, you shut him out completely. Unknowing to you, Shirabu is plagued with the same thoughts. Tension boils over once again as you find yourself left alone with him in the gym.

Series: Part 2 of 3 (Part 1 & Part 3)

To say that the last few weeks since handing in the assignment have been tense was an understatement. Ever since the incident in the study room, your head has been in utter disarray.

There were many things on the burning pile of your mind that added to your mounting vexation. The first one being that you gave into him, and no matter how pleasurable that was, it was a major blow to your pride. Since that library session, Shirabu acted as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Hell, if you weren’t for the bruises painted on your hips, you might’ve convinced yourself it was a very vivid sex dream about your rival.

Unlike Shirabu’s heated anger, yours was more of the frosty kind. Cold shoulders punctuated with icy looks. The two of you were opposites in every sense of the term and yet he haunted you like an embarrassing childhood memory that refuses to let you sleep.

You let your hand slip out from where it was supporting your cheek and let your head ‘thunk’ against the table. Concerned, Natsuki pauses from her bento and gives you an assessing look.

“Alright, you’ve been acting weird for a while now. Are you alright?” Natsuki narrow her eyes at you, a silent warning that you wouldn't get away with lying.

Asides from her expression, you could hear concern ring loud and clear in her voice. Natsuki was a dear friend but she was also as stubborn as a bull if she wanted something, just like you. Now that you think of it, maybe that was why you two got along so well.

Knowing that you weren’t going to be able to evade the question, you give her a plausible excuse.

“University entrance exams are getting closer and I feel like I’m hitting a wall when I try to study.”

It was partially true. Albeit the reason you were hitting a wall was mostly because you can’t go more than an hour sitting there without your thoughts drifting to Shirabu’s hands on your hips, thrusting inside of you with vitriolic comments on the tip of his tongue. But Natsuki didn’t need to know all of that.

Accepting the lame excuse, Natsuki nods her head in empathy.

“I feel you there,” she frowns, “with my council duties on top of everything, I feel like I’m doing work but getting nowhere with it. They have me running around every afternoon trying to get forms signed. By the time I’m done I don’t want to study.”

You quietly hum at her tribulations. Annoyed at your uncharacteristic brooding demeanour recently, Natsuki sharply prods your cheek with her chopstick. You bat her hand away and turn to weakly glare up at her.

In your periphery, a flash of copper-toned hair catches your attention. Peering at the boy that’s been distracting you from the corner of your eyes, you could see him sitting like a statue among the lively chatter of his table. For some reason, the mere sight of his blank face and stupidly straight fringe elicited anger inside of you.

If it wasn’t clear before, that reaction to his existence was enough to rule out the possibility of you falling for him. This fills you with relief. You had suspected the possibility when you caught yourself thinking about him on a daily basis, but the thought terrified you.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Natsuki pouts at you, hand poised to jab you in the cheek with her chopstick again.

“Yes.”

“Is that a yes to delivering the form or for listening?”

“Both,” you absent-mindedly answer, eyeing off your unfinished bento, knowing you weren't in the mood to finish it.

“Thanks for doing this favour for me.” Natsuki sounded genuinely glad as she riffles through her binder she refuses to leave in her desk.

With a small ‘aha’, she pulls out a sheath of paper and holds it out to you. Sitting up from your slouched position, you gingerly take the paperwork. You wonder what you might’ve signed yourself up for when you see how much writing is crammed onto the first page.

“What is this?” You ask.

“I knew you weren’t listening.” Natsuki says, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I told you that I need to get the volleyball’s club captain to submit their plan for the new people filling the team roles and other admin stuff like that.”

At the casual mention of the volleyball’s captain, dread gripped your heart.

“The volleyball captain?” You parrot back weakly.

“Yeah,” she gives you an odd look, “you know, Shirabu. The guy who you claim to hate. Surely you knew he was captain.”

Oh, you knew all too well that he was the damn captain. Being the overachieving bastard that he was, as if acing high school and aiming for medical school was enough, the dick had to add in being captain to a national-placing sports team as well.

Petulantly looking away to not meet Natsuki’s unimpressed look, your eyes incidentally met golden ones. The eye contact probably lasted all of a millisecond, but it was the most you two shared over the past few weeks. With you avoiding looking at Shirabu at every possible opportunity and Shirabu himself making no attempt to address the elephant in the room, you both let the elephant waste away and dye under the lack of attention.

Breaking the eye contact, you turn your attention back to the brunette in front of you. “Why am I doing this for you?”

“Because you’re a good friend?” She bats her eyelashes at you.

You give her a flat look, not believing her for a second.

“Come on,” she whines, “you know those volleyball guys scare me. They’re way too tall.”

“They shouldn’t. They’re a bunch a meat-heads.” You don’t mention the fact that their captain is below the national height average, which you find quite hilarious for a sport that’s all about height and strength.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Whatever, I’ve got the papers now, so it’s already settled. Don’t say that I’m not a good friend.”

Natsuki gives you a wide smile that makes you pause.

“Maybe while you’re at it, you can sort out whatever happened between the two of you since working on that science project.”

Your skin breaks out in goose bumps at the innocent words paired with a meaningful undertone.

It was then that you swore to never underestimate the power of Natsuki’s perception.

Not wanting to interrupt practice and bring unnecessary attention to yourself, you decided it was best to wait until practice finished. Remembering the time practice should be ending from your previous sessions with Shirabu, you holed yourself up in the dorms during the meantime, trying your hardest to work through some practice exam questions to no avail. Your traitorous thoughts kept drifting to the copper-haired setter roughly handling you.

Phantom touches ghosted along the same places Shirabu had graced upon not that long ago. Unthinkingly, your thighs press together as the memory of him ruthlessly fucking into you plays in your mind for the umpteenth time this week alone.

Frustrated with your horny mind, you slap your cheeks. The sting drives away the faint tendrils of arousal and brings back clarity. God, now was not the time to be getting all hot and bothered over something he probably hasn’t thought twice about. You valued yourself more than to ruminate over something so basal.

Looking at the time, it signals that you should head off if you want to get the forms signed tonight as per Natsuki's explicit orders. Snatching the forms off the corner of your desk, you set off to the gym with a stone sitting heavy in your stomach.

Thankfully, it was warm enough to not wear a jacket. The heat teases the stress from your tense shoulders. The walk was calming, the scent of blooming sakura and freshly cut grass further soothing your frayed nerves.

You weren’t nervous per say, more anxious at finding out how your body may react to being in such close proximity to him again. Since that night, purposeful or not, you both struggled to find an appropriate time to meet up and decided that it was best to do it all online since the majority of it was completed.

The sounds of shoes squeaking over varnished wood along with the low murmur of male voices met your ears as you slide your shoes into a cubby and slipped on indoor shoes. You’ve only been in gym one three times before and that was for the opening ceremonies. The sight of high beam ceilings and sleek modern interior still astounded you.

The boys running around had mops in hand, whilst others climbed to dismantle nets, but most of them were missing. Looking around for a head of copper-hair, you hoped that Shirabu hadn’t left early like most captains would. However, your mission was interrupted as your sight was filled with black hair and glittering dark eyes peering at you.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Yes. Is Shirabu still here?” You answer, taking note of how tall the boy is. His face doesn’t seem familiar and you’d definitely remember meeting someone with a bowl-cut. He must be in a year below you, you reason.

“Ah,” the boy’s eyes flit over to the right, “he’s over there.”

Following his line of sight, you found Shirabu standing with his arms crossed next to an open door talking to a ginger-haired guy that you’ve definitely seen in your class before.

“Thanks.” You nod to the younger who smiles to you and continues whatever chose he was assigned.

Walking over to the pair, you catch his eye without even trying. Shirabu’s expression changes minutely, a subtle twitch of the mouth that has you contemplating homicide. You were over-reacting, surely. Still, you hoped that maybe he could fake being pleasant for as long as it takes to fill the forms out.

“Sorry to interrupt –“

“No, you’re not.” Shirabu interrupts. Well there goes the fantasy of him being pleasant for one minute. Even his tall friend gives him a look for cutting you off.

“You’re right. I’m not,” You concede. Placing a hand on your hip, you hold the papers out to him.

Shirabu blankly stares at you instead of taking them, which added to your mounting annoyance. Fine. If he wanted to play the petty game, so would you.

“These are forms for the retiring captain of the volleyball club to fill out. Unfortunately it turned out to be you.” You say with a plastic smile. “The team must be really sad to see their esteemed captain leave, huh?”

Shirabu’s jaw clenched at your poorly concealed insults, not even bothering to dress them up like you preferred to do. Expecting him to rise to the bait, you waited for the onslaught of offense he’ll spew in response.

“I’m busy right now. You can wait until I’m done.”

He brushes you off, turning and walking away from you. His friend gives you an apologetic look, knowing how shitty his friend’s personality is.

Your eye twitches with restrained violence as you watched him saunter away. With clenched hands you wait by the storage room’s doorway. You dismiss the few pitying glances from the few people walking past you to put the cleaning equipment away.

You busy yourself with your phone as Shirabu continues to waste your precious time that you could be using to catch up on some much needed studying that he was unknowingly depriving you of recently.

Kenjirou had not expected you to turn up tonight, catching him by surprise. When he noticed you, an inexplicable feeling rushed over him. He tried to keep his face neutral as you drew closer but the moment you opened your mouth he couldn’t help himself.

That temporary high of riling you up and then giving you the cold shoulder was incredible. After the weeks of your frigid treatment and the plain disregard for his existence you subjected him to, it was the least he could repay you with. The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t even ask about your sudden change of attitude, as you would try your hardest to avoid being in a room alone with him.

All he did know was that he weirdly missed the fiery attitude you possessed. It frustrated him to no end that as soon as the assignment was completed, you had done your hardest to ghost him. As much as one could when you shared the same classroom for near seven hours of the day.

Your suddenly frigid attitude didn’t stop you staring, though. Kenjirou had caught you a few times looking in his direction with an indescribable expression. From your distant expression, he couldn’t tell if you either wanted to stab him or re-enact that last study session.

Regardless, the entire affair has him on edge. He thought that fucking you would vent all those conflicting emotions and give him peace. Instead he feels more restless now than ever.

And to his dismay, this did not go unnoticed by Taichi.

“Is there a reason why you’re being more of a prick to her than usual?”

Kenjirou ignored the question in favour for checking out the gym. The first and second years were generally tasked to do clean-up and they did so with vigour, feeling privileged to work in an old war-horse team with a vendetta.

“Man, I never took you to be the ‘boy pulls girl's pigtails because he likes her’ stereotype when getting a girl's attention.” Taichi muses.

Shirabu scowls at Taichi. “Shut up. She annoys the hell out of me and that’s all.”

Taichi grabs him by the arm, eyebrow piqued. “She didn’t even speak two words and you were at her throat.”

“She doesn’t need to say anything to piss me off.”

“Funny that she’s willing to be civil and yet you aren’t.”

Kenjirou chooses not to comment on that.

The pissed off expression on his face has the younger members avoiding him like the plague, choosing to leave for their dorms over loitering in the locker room.

“Are you going to help me lock up or not?”

“Only if you stop looking murderous.”

Taichi’s knee buckles as Kenjirou delivers a swift kick to the back of it.

“Go away, I can do it on my own.”

“Fine,” Taichi says, looking relieved at the early dismissal. Kenjirou didn't doubt for a moment that Taichi planned for it. “Don’t murder the cute girl. I won’t be your alibi.”

“You’re a terrible friend.” Kenjirou hisses under his breath.

Taichi laughs and leaves Kenjirou to his own devices. Remembering that you were waiting on him, he’s surprised to find that you were still there. Leaning against the wall tapping at your phone looking bored, you didn’t notice his eyes on you. You were still wearing the school uniform, with the exception of your tie and first few buttons undone.

There was a casual air about you that he didn’t get to see every day. His eyes linger on your skirt, fingers twitching with the memory of how the fabric felt under them. Without his permission, an image of your panties tucked away in the back of his bedside table flashes to the forefront of his mind.

Unlike the previous times the thought popped into mind, Kenjirou chooses not to fight it away as he turns away from you and goes through the motions of checking the locker room and hallways before locking up.

The lacy scrap of fabric was a memento of sorts, a trophy of him putting you in your place the same way he envisioned in his more… illicit fantasies. Although, they may be cursed. As absurd as the idea is, Kenjirou has no other explanation for the phenomenon that’s been occurring since his ownership of them. He can barely stand looking at the harmless piece of furniture containing them without feeling heat spark up inside of him.

At first, he ruled it to anger or frustration, a common emotion he experiences in your vicinity. It only took a week after the tryst, left alone in his dorm room for the weekend did he indulge the demon in his mind. It wasn’t until he was coming down from his high, your soft panties wrapped around his hand covered in drying cum, did the weight of his actions sink in.

It didn’t stop there, though. No, that’d be too easy for him, and if Kenjirou had learnt anything since you breezed into his life, life was all about being difficult.

He had woken up a few times to ruined sheets from dreams of your sweet moans and pliable body under his hands, all too willing to obey his every demand. It's laughable that he thinks you would ever be like that, but that’s why he supposes their called wet dreams – they’re unrealistic fantasies. The logical part of him chimes in the significance of Kenjirou liking you to the extent of your appearing in those fantasies, but Kenjirou did his best to smother that voice until it died.

The keys in his hand rattle as he shoves them into his pocket. Without even realising it, he managed to complete lock-up. The only soul besides his in the gym belonged to the only person that could piss him off with just a look.

Walking down the hallway, towards where you were waiting, Kenjirou decisively concluded the knot in his stomach was not anticipation, it was from the annoyance at knowing he was forced to be with you in the few precious hours he has to himself.

Your mindless scrolling stops as you check the time, pissed that he’s held you back for this long. You wished you could leave but you promised to give the completed forms to Natsuki in the morning and you didn’t trust Shirabu for as far as you could throw him.

Whilst you didn’t expect him to greet you with open arms and a charming smile, you were fed up with his belligerent attitude. While he’s always been like that, it’s really been grating on your nerves recently. You’ve become acutely aware of Shirabu’s every move. The sight of him alone, at ease talking among peers made you experience something you’ve never felt before.

The closest description to the feeling is butterflies fluttering around your stomach, but the idiom was simultaneously nauseating and horrifying to you.

From dwelling on it for weeks now, you knew that your sudden interest towards him stemmed from lusting over him, as adamant you were to admit. Unfortunately, you enjoyed him taking you from behind without any regard for you. It infuriated you that you got off on his nasty personality.

“Give me the papers.”

The unexpected appearance of Shirabu’s voice startles you, very nearly causing you to drop your phone.

You click your tongue at him and give him an admonishing look for his rudeness. Grabbing the papers tucked under your arm, you hand it over to him.

“Here.”

Without a word of thanks, he takes them and starts reading over them, not wanting to dignify your cold tone. Biting your tongue, you fish out a pen in your pocket. You were sorely tempted to toss it at his head, but you were above acting so childish, unlike Shirabu.

Moving close to him, you stay out of his personal space as you point to sections of the paper with the pen and start reciting everything Natsuki told you. You were nothing but meticulous and as much as you despised her for setting you up, you never half-assed anything.

At the end of your spiel, Kenjirou snatches your pen from your grasp and start filling out the form against the wall. At your indignant shout, he simply rolls his eyes.

It was obvious that Shirabu wanted to be anywhere else but here with you, evident by his silence. Weirdly enough, the thought hurt, like little pinpricks piercing your chest.

Surprisingly, Shirabu is the one to break the silence that fell over the gym.

“Why does the council need to know how many students I think are going to join next year? How could I possibly guess that?”

You roll your eyes at his griping. “Just fill out the damn form.”

Uncaring of the dilemma threatening his fastidious nature, you grinned as his jaw clenches. He’s put you through psychological torture for a month now, this was only a taste of the frustration you felt.

You felt a little vindicated when he huffs out loud at another unnecessarily specific question.

Fuck what Natsuki said, this was exposure therapy at its finest. If you could do this without admiring his body in some way then that’d be a victory. And you despised losing, so you were intent on winning this as well.

Easier said than done.

Your eyes lingered on his lips as his tongue darts out to wet them. They further stray down the column of his throat and settle on the hand scribbling down information. His hands were surprisingly slender for a guy, but no less deadly. You’ve heard about his pin-point accurate tosses and serves. You knew firsthand the mistake of underestimating his strength.

“What?” He snaps, noticing you intently staring at his hands.

“Nothing,” You sniff, trying to look disdainful to cover your embarrassment at your wondering attention.

‘For fuck’s sake, pull yourself together woman!’ You inwardly admonish yourself.

For Kenjirou, this was the last straw. He tried carrying on as normal after the incident, he tried not biting back for the sake of decency, and yet your attitude flips on him out of nowhere. He’s tired of all of this shit.

Letting the papers fall to the ground, he grabs your wrist in an iron-hard grip and bangs open the door of the storage room beside you. Fed up with your attitude, Kenjirou knew that confronting you about it could blow up in his face but he couldn’t stand his last few weeks of high school spent with your bitchy demeanour.

“Hey! What the fuck?” You protest, pulling against the tight grasp he has on your wrists as he kicks the door closed pulls your further into the dark room.

Not listening to your complaints, he pulls you behind the high stack of mats and shoves you against the shelving unit. The shelves uncomfortably dig into your back as he cages you in, arms placed beside your head, breaths intermingling.

“This has got to stop.” He growls.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You raise your eyebrows at him, outwardly acting unaffected. Internally, your heartbeat thundered in your ears, deafening you with the excitement you felt.

“Oh, so now you want to act normal?” He snorts.

“Fuck off.”

For the past three years you’ve taken enough of his shit. You thought denying the issue attention would starve him and he’d get bored. How wrong you were. Instead you managed to piss him off even more, evident by the way the air vibrated with the tension between your bodies.

“I bet you can’t get me out of your head,” Shirabu says lowly, possessive grip on your hips tightening minutely. “Maybe that’s why you refuse to meet my eyes.”

“Don’t sound all high and mighty. I bet you get off with my underwear that you stole, asshole.” You bite back, defiantly meeting his gaze head-on to prove him wrong.

Unexpectedly, Kenjirou flushes. If you didn’t know how big of a prick he was, you’d almost think it was cute. Now though? It was all you needed to know that was exactly what he’s been using your stolen panties for.

“Oho, hit the nail on the head now, did I?” You tease, drawing your faces close enough to see the faint freckles that were hidden by the redness.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says warningly, a hard expression on his face.

“Or what? You’ll gag me again? Oh no.” You challenge, lips pursed in faux concern.

“No,” he drawls, brushing his thumb across your lower lip. “I want to hear you beg for me this time.”

His thumb presses down hard, preventing you from responding coherently . You glare at him from under your eyelashes, not liking the smug look on his face at all.

His titillating tone had your horny hindbrain rearing to go. Meanwhile, your forebrain was too stubborn to give in just because he was wanted it, despite you wanting it as well.

Shirabu’s eyes dart from your eyes to your mouth, watching your tongue flick at his thumb. He replaces it with his index and middle finger, pressing down on your tongue and admiring the way your tongue melded around them. It was the best way he could stop your witticisms for one fucking second.

“You’re so much cuter when you’re not talking.” He sighs, feigning a wistful tone.

You scowled at him, hating the fact that he was enjoying himself and that you were weirdly enjoying it as well. His other hand migrates southward, slipping up underneath your skirt. The brush of his fingertips leave a tingling sensation on your skin as it makes its way up your inner thigh.

Your knees lock up as he brushes along the edge of your panties. Unable to take his intense focus on your face, you shove shove his fingers out of your mouth and pull him down into a kiss. Much like the first one you two shared, there was much more teeth and tongue involved for it be labelled such, but you had no other word for it.

As his tongue slips in, Kenjirou forcibly rubs against the wet spot he found. He pressed against it, testing how far the fabric would stretch. You keened into his mouth at the rough feeling of the fabric stroking against your folds.

Breaking the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours. His fingers move the panties to the side and you finally get the skin-on-skin contact you’ve been craving. Stroking your bare folds and smearing the wetness around, Shirabu manages to touch you everywhere but the place you wanted him most.

“If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you never done this before.” You tease, hoping to urge him on but unknowingly sealing your fate for another rough night.

Shirabu’s ministrations stop and he levels you with a serious expression – a dangerous glint in his honeyed irises.

“I’m going to make you beg for me.”

Committed to his promise, he buries two fingers into you without concern. You yelp at the burn of the sudden stretch and lack of lubrication. As if you didn’t think you were insane as it was, you could feel yourself get wetter at the lick of pain. Kenjirou smirk as he watches your face screw up as he pumps and twists his fingers inside of you, feeling you become wetter around his digits.

Skillful fingers make a mess of you. Unable to support yourself on weak legs, Shirabu and the shelving unit bare your weight as you pant and give breathy sighs whenever he makes a particular set of motions that has heat rushing throughout your body and your hole gush.

It wasn’t long before you could feel that heat accumulating low in your gut. Throwing your head back and letting out a lengthy moan, needlessly warning Shirabu that you were close.

‘Just a little more,’ you thought desperately, ‘just a little more and I'll be there.’

Kenjirou knew he was a sadist at-heart, told many times by Taichi and his seniors for pushing the younger years during practice. He never had the chance to explore it with a partner before and while he never imagined you to be the one, he found himself enjoying your sinful expressions and sounds.

With a cruel smile, he watches your reaction as he pulls his fingers out of you. You Eyes fly open, hips pausing in their mindless rolling and a complaint rises to your lips.

“You fucker.”

He laughs at your reaction. it was exactly what he expected from your impatient bitchy self.

Instead of resuming the bickering from before, you force yourself to calm down. Closing your eyes and turning your thoughts inwards, you practice breathing techniques counsellors taught you for exam stress. The back of your mind registers his fingers skirting around the edge of your hole with enough pressure to cause your leg to twitch.

Envisioning the smug look on his face did not help you calm down. it caused your blood to boil all the more. Begrudgingly opening your eyes, your eyebrows furrow when you see his contemplative look.

Kenjirou wondered how long it would take for you to give in to him. From the way your chest was heaving, looking at him through lidded eyes, he concluded that it would be miracle if you could last more than two rounds of this game.

Determined to prove his theory, he ripped your skirt down with your panties in one smooth motion and slipped his fingers back into your greedy hole. It took a much shorter amount of time for you to get close this time, thighs tensing around his hand.

Trying to spread your legs wider, you’re stopped by the elastic waist of your panties. Annoyed, you step out of them and kick the skirt and panties away. Now freed, your legs spread wider to give Shirabu’s miracle hand more room to work with, which he gladly abused.

“Fuck.” You moan

“I’ve barely started and you’re already a mess,” He notes, eyeing your glistening eyes and the bared column of your throat.

“Screw you.” You hiss, thighs tensing as he works you back towards the high he ripped from you.

Kenjirou darts forward to deliver a harsh nip to your bottom lip in punishment. Not expecting it, you moaned at the bite of pain, tightening around his long fingers.

Believing you learnt you lesson, his lips move southward. Trailing down the column of you throat, his mind summons thoughts of your neck being littered with his mark. His hand increases the pace, brutally pumping in and out as the mental image makes his dick harden impossibly more.

The sting of his scalp as you tug at his hair pulls him away from the thought and in turn gives him another idea.

You smother the whine threatening to come out as he remove his fingers from your soaking hole, once again depriving you of that high.

Mildly confused, you watched as he loosens his tie and slips it over his head. It hits you a moment too late what he was planning. The fabric rasp against your overlapped wrists and tightens as he slide the knot down.

“I didn’t know you were into that, Shirabu. Mummy and daddy must be so proud of their little boy using their knot tying skills for bondage.” You comment, to which he rolls his eyes and forces your arms upwards to loop the other end of the tie around a pole.

He tests your new restraints by tugging at the knot. Satisfied with his handiwork, he turns his attention back to you.

“I was serious about you begging,” he starts conversationally, like you weren’t tied up and half naked. “I’m not going to fuck you until you do.”

“I’d like to see you try and get me begging, pretty boy.” You taunt him full-well knowing that you were starting to become a little desperate. Once clear mind was now clouded with a need that he’s been denying you over and over again.

Kenjirou knew this as well. Your legs were trembling minutely, your pupils dilated, and face flushed a cute pink. He could tell you were close to breaking. He was mildly surprised that you survived this far in, but your resilience – more like stubbornness, he muses – only served to make him all the more determined to break you.

Unlike before, it starts off slow. Calloused fingers massaging your faintly pulsing walls as you roll your hips against his palm. Just when he lulls you into a sense of security, the pace is amped straight back to maximum and fans his fingers out.

Kenjirou scissors his fingers as he pulls out and twists his wrist as he draws out. This had your eyes rolling into the back of your head, loud moan reverberating off of the walls.

It takes only a few pumps and a twist to have the heat grow and spark inside of you as he brings you closer to an orgasm than the previous times.

Kenjirou can feel the tell-tale fluttering of your walls, thighs clenching around his hand, as if trying to force him deeper. Easing up, he lazily pumps his digits in and out, watching as your expression twists into a pained one as he rips yet another orgasm from you.

“Fuck me already.” You moan, fed up with the ups and downs. You both loved and hated Shirabu having all the power right now. You’re sure this was something you’ll contemplate once this is all said and done.

“You know what I want.” He massages your walls and brushes against a sensitive spot.

A moan cuts off your words, walls clenching down on long fingers that weren’t enough to scratch the itch deep inside of you.

“Say it.”

Kenjirou buries his fingers inside of you, this time deeper than before, reaching spots that your own failed to reach. You very nearly screamed at the sensation. Shirabu was pushing you to your wits end without any effort.

“Please! Just fuck me already!”

The tears gathering at the corners of your eyes spill as he hastily pulls his fingers out of your sopping core. The sound of a zipper followed by fabric dropping to the floor fill your ears as Kenjirou hastily preps himself.

Smearing the juices from your dripping hole onto his length with slick fingers, Kenjirou catches your eyes as he strokes himself and smirks at your curious look.

A blush sears onto your cheeks at his look. Last time you didn’t get to take a look at his member, even though you became intimately aware of its slight upwards curve, you had to admit to yourself that his length was impressive. You’d rather cut out your own tongue than tell him that, so you make sure your face devoid of those thoughts.

Kenjirou doesn't waste a moment as he grabs your thigh and wraps it around his back as he lines himself up. The breath in your chest stalls as his tip prods at your entrance.

“Good girl,” He breathes as he finally enters you inch by excruciating inch.

Head dropping back, your arms strain against their restraints as his dick perfectly fills every crevice inside of you. The slight sting of the stretch brings more tears to your eyes, but it was soon overshadowed by the liquid pleasure that coursed through your veins as he starts rocking up into your warmth.

The shelves rattle as each thrust jostles you back. You were unaware of the pain caused by them digging into your back as each stroke already had you becoming closer and closer to your peak. The friction alone from his hurried pace had your toes curling and mind wiped of coherent thought.

Having you tied up and at the mercy of his whims had blood rushing from his head to his dick. It was an incredible feeling to tame your fiery spirit, creating a high that he could see himself chasing for the rest of his life.

“Look at you, taking my cock like the good cock-slut you are.” He pants into your ear.

You moan loudly, not giving a single fuck for any unfortunate soul that might still be in the gym, as your evasive orgasm finally comes into arms.

Your walls tighten around Kenjirou's length hard enough for him to hiss. Kenjirou knew you were close, moans reaching a new pitch. As a reward for you being compliant with him, Kenjirou lends you a helping hand. With a few strokes of your sensitive bundle of nerves he tips you over the edge.

Sparks coalesce inside of you and dance along your skin as you orgasm, creaming over Shirabu’s cock. Your vision turns black, but the feeling of Shirabu fucking you through your orgasm intensifies as he works through your tight warmth, seeking out his own peak.

“Kenjirou.”

Hips jerking out of motion, Kenjirou nearly chokes on his tongue as his orgasm sudden crashes down on him at your call of his name. Burying himself as deep as possible, cum sprays inside of you with considerable force as he unloads inside of your hole.

“You sound so good begging and moaning for me,” He pants. “It’s the only time where you’re not being a bitch.”

“Like you can talk Mr. When-I-Talk-Over-Someone-I’m-Automatically-The-Winner. You’re no better-”

Abruptly pulling out, Kenjirou replaces his cock with his fingers, pushing his cum back inside of your leaking hole. A weak groan rattles your chest as his fingers brush against sensitive hole, holding their position.

“As you were you saying?” He says smoothly, knowing he’s robbing you of speech as he applies more pressure to your hole.

“You fucker.” You grit out, tugging at your restraints as you automatically move to try and move his hands away, the full feeling of his hot cum inside you becoming overwhelming.

“A reward for being a good girl.” He breathes into your ear, causing a shiver to consume your form.

Reaching up with his free hand, Shirabu single-handedly undoes the knots of his tie and frees your wrists. You’d be impressed by this if it weren’t for his two fingers rubbing incessantly against you the entire time, making your vision fritz at the edges.

Arms falling to your sides, the blood rushes back into them and the feeling of static pairing wonderfully with the way Shirabu’s digits moved against your abused hole.

Pain flares up in your wrists when you grab his hand to stop his unrelenting movements. Working through the pain, you move his hand away. As Shirabu pulls away from you, he avidly watches as his cum drains from you. You swallow thickly at the sensation of warm globs trailing down your thigh.

Disgusted at the feeling of it drying, you glance around and spot a roll of paper towel sitting on the shelf beside your head.

You busied yourself by cleaning up the mess Shirabu made of you as the devil himself also wiped himself off.

Leaning down to pull up his shorts, Kenjirou notes the red fabric sticking out from your skirt piled on the floor. Surreptitiously checking that you weren’t paying attention, he tucks the fabric into his pocket with a sly grin, claiming his rightful trophy to his second conquest.

Glancing over to Shirabu as you pick up your skirt, you find him tucking himself back into his shorts with a carefully blank look on his face. You eye him suspiciously, unknowing of what he was going to do or say next.

“Here’s the key, lock up when your done and give it back tomorrow.”

You scramble to catch the key he tosses at you, dropping your skirt in the process. He doesn’t wait to hear your complaints, giving you one last long look and waltzes on out like he didn’t have you tied up and fucked senseless not even five minutes ago.

Incredulously, you watched his back disappear around the corner. Shaking your head, you go to pick up you skirt again. Noticing the absence of red fabric inside of the purple plaid, you looked around the floor, hoping that maybe you kicked them under the shelves.

After one quick look around, the fate of another pair of your favourite panties hits you like a brick to the head.

“Motherfucker!” You scream after him.

The deep laughter in the distance filters through your ears and fanned the hatred simmering inside as well as the blush doing its best to turn you into a strawberry impersonation.

Leaning against the shelving unit, chest heaving and sweat drying along your skin, you swore to fix the part of you that craved Shirabu's touch.

Notes: Too bad I can’t write degrading stuff without looking too far into it because goddamn does Shirabu suite it. Hope you enjoyed this indulgent fic!!

#shirabu kenjirou x reader #shirabu kenjiro x reader #shirabu kenjirou #reader-insert #haikyuu reader insert #haikyu!! x reader #head filled with nothing but shirabu recently #shiratorizawa #haikyu!!

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

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If your Runaan is King theory is true, do you think there might be any parallels between Runaan and Lain friendship and Harrow and Viren friendship (before Viren was taken over by dark magic)? And if Harrow died before he and Viren drew apart, would he have asked Viren to take care of his kids (same way Lain did with Runaan)?

Oh man, this is such a fun question! Gosh gosh gosh. I think there should be parallels there, yes! Lain is Runaan’s BFF, and Viren was Harrow’s. Like, that parallel is already there. The BFFs have/had a wife, and the leaders have had spouses too. There’s a group of four for each of them, two couples, with these pairs of men as the closest friends.

Both sets of relationships are complicated, and though we know a bunch of the issues Viren and Harrow have dealt with, we really don’t know much about Lain and Runaan’s friendship or how it’s affected their friend group and marriages, aside from two things: Lain got Ruthari together by encouraging Runaan to tell Ethari how he felt, and Laindrin trusted Ruthari with Rayla’s upbringing. That’s kind of all we got so far.

But I would love to see a handful more really key mirrors and parallels in place. Some things that are the same, and some that are different. That’s really how this show’s characterization works, so I’m practically expecting it.

Viren and Lissa divorced because Viren was creeping her out with his dark magic, apparently. Lain and Tiadrin are still together, and they fight as a dedicated battle couple. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t face some kind of crisis moment too, where maybe Lain had a hard choice to make and Tiadrin decided to support him instead of pull away--or maybe Tiadrin was the one making the choice.

Maybe it involved having Rayla? Or joining the Dragonguard? If Lain was the one invited, and he really wanted to go, Tiadrin would have to choose between staying with Rayla or staying with Lain. That’s a big echo of Claudia’s “Don’t make me choose!” right there, so maybe there’s something to that? (I have an angsty hc that Runaan, as the assassin leader, sent them both to the Storm Spire for many reasons. If one of them was to prevent Tiadrin having to choose, and if he chose to suffer the loss of both so they could remain together, gosh...) If they struggled with a decision and then left together, then Runaan and Ethari would have to support their friends’ departure while trusting that they’d be stronger together. Oh man, the feels.

Harrow and Viren are both men who will do things on their own if they must. We saw Sarai as more of a “I can go with you or leave you to your folly but clearly you need my help” kind of person when it came to the Magma Titan mission. And iirc there’s a tweet out there saying that Tiadrin and Sarai would be great friends if they met under peaceful circumstances.

So maybe Tiadrin, with her tactical mind, has the same approach as Sarai, and Lain is more of a “Dude, bro, dude, let’s just do the thing, bro my dude my guy, I gotchu.” He’s very supportive, but that can also become enabling if it goes a little too far, so maybe Lain has gotten Runaan into some tight spots, or at least not talked him out of said spots, over the course of their friendship? And it was Tiadrin who saved their butts, which she does not let them forget. I can see Sarai teasing her boys about their follies and her needing to save the day, too, gosh I love that.

We don’t know what kind of societal role Lissa had. I’ve been assuming she didn’t fight like Sarai did, but I could be super wrong on that. If she isn’t a combatant, then she actually kinda parallels Ethari. Three fighters and someone who doesn’t fight, but with the pairings are swapped. That just adds more possibility to the paralleling options, though.

And I’m wondering, maybe Runaan and Ethari had a moment like Lissa and Viren, where Ethari might’ve had to choose whether to stay with this stabby idiot after he saw something very unpleasant. Perhaps it was Runaan getting his scars? Viren sacrificed someone (presumably) to save Soren’s life. Perhaps Runaan nearly sacrificed his own on a mission. There’s a really dark parallel with these two about how little they value life--extra ironic and complicated for Runaan as a Moonshadow--and I can totally see a big scary moment happening where their spouses realize exactly how different their loved one’s philosophy is from their own. Except that Ethari stayed and Lissa left. and now Runaan has gone but Viren remains, aaaaa

I wonder how the other couples might’ve played out, there. When Viren and Lissa split, how did Harrow and Sarai handle it? What did Harrow try to do for his friend? Did they try to reconcile the couple? Probably. That could’ve felt like political pressure to Lissa. And I wonder if Harrow even knew what Viren had done to save Soren’s life, that he killed someone. I bet Viren wouldn’t tell him that part. Maybe he even lied, because his need to be Harrow’s friend, to be close to power and allowed to practice his magic, was so strong.

Lain and Tiadrin would’ve tried to talk to Runaan and Ethari too, I’m sure. They’re both assassins, just like Runaan, so they’d see his side, and Ethari might’ve felt very pressured as well, to just submit and go along. Not just as a freaked out spouse, but as the craftsman who made weapons for the assassin leader and for others, keeping them safe. If he left... who would keep Runaan safe? That’s kinda sus, bro. But I can see the Moonshadow logic in it.

Viren has attached himself to Harrow as friend and protector, and he’s dedicated years of his life to helping Harrow protect their people. Possibly Lain had the same motivation? “This guy’s important, so I wanna be his friend and help him out with that.” That’s not a bad thing at all. Viren’s motives were a little tainted by dark magic. Maybe Lain’s a stand-up guy. But maybe he also has some kind of self-interest involved in being Runaan’s best friend, too. Moonshadows be complicated.

tl;dr: Yes anon I am very here for an interwoven, complicated friendship between Lain and Runaan that involves spouses and plenty of good and bad history, similar to the long and complex relationship between Harrow and Viren. I am jonesing for more moonfam backstory so bad.

As to your other question, I do think that Harrow would’ve wanted to entrust his children to Viren before he and the dark mage drew apart. The question that arises for me is: when did that begin?

I think it began with Sarai’s death. Harrow had his own plan, but he trusted Viren and did it his way, and he lost his wife in the process. Fifty thousand lives is a lot more than one life. But that one life was the most precious one to Harrow, and it made the sacrifice personal in a way that losing fifty thousand citizens never would be.

Harrow might still have given his kids to Viren. But Amaya was also a choice. The general or the mage? Neither are super safe for a childhood environment.

Interestingly, in this parallel, Amaya is a lot more like Runaan: the fighter, who would’ve trained Callum and Ezran to fight because they grew up in such a dangerous environment. I wonder if there was another option for Laindrin to give Rayla to, one that was more magical, or more dubious? Lujanne comes to mind! Hah, can you imagine? Crikey!

I think that if Harrow and Sarai needed to give their boys to someone, Sarai would advocate for Amaya and win: “With troops like Gren and Corvus and the whole Standing Battalion to protect and raise them, there’s no safer place in all of Katolis!” It sounds like something Tiadrin would say about leaving Rayla with Runaan and Ethari, amidst the assassin corps. It’s not ideal by miles, but I can see why she, as a warrior herself, would see safety and a like-minded community as the strongest benefits.

If it was only Harrow, after Sarai died, it might still be Amaya, because his trust in Viren had begun to fracture, but it’s hard to say. I get the feeling that Harrow has never really seen Viren as dad material, even though he has kids. That hug thing in the S1 novelization was really weird, and I will never unsee Viren saying “familial clasp.” Viren, why are you like this. Anyway, Harrow might just decide that leaving his kids with a guy who literally doesn’t know what a hug is, might not be the best move for their emotional development.

He’s a good dad, an angry widower, an iffy king, a great jokester, a loving husband, and a loyal friend. He’s as complicated as Runaan is, kings or no. But I hope that he and Viren had many years of true friendship, just like I suspect Runaan and Lain have had. Positive, healthy relationships are good for everyone.

Please though, TDP, moonfam friendship stuff. This parallel is begging to happen and things don’t feel balanced without it. What’s that, there’s not enough time?

*magically sprinkles five extra minutes onto each episode* Reality schmeality.

#asks #viren #harrow #lain #runaan #tdp parallels #king runaan #moonfam #amaya #rayla

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cadomoisspokenfor · 3 years

Text

Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 4:

Frizzytop

I theorized in episode 2 that David could see through the 4th wall, or at least into a different universe. At the start of this episode Oliver outright breaks the 4th wall. Perhaps powerful reality benders just have that capability. If David knows, and Oliver knows, then Farouk definitely knows.

“A great philosopher once wrote, ‘In times of peace, the war like man attacks himself.’ This is the route of all our problems.”

“We are the route of all our problems. Our confusion, our anger, our fear of things we don’t understand.”

If we carry those 2 quotes throughout the rest of the show, then no doubt the tragedies that happen later on are caused by a collective misunderstanding of each other. And a collective lashing out at that misunderstanding of each other.

“Violence, in other words, is ignorance.”

The most central theme of the show is empathy vs fear. I s’pose whenever there’s a conflict in the show we’re supposed to be asking whether the characters should answer with empathy or fear. Certain characters lives have revolved heavily around fear. And that informs their decision making quite a bit. This will all come up again at multiple points throughout the show.

Syd... probably can’t break the 4th wall. So maybe it’s most logical to interpret this as her inner monologue. Very Jessica Jones esque.

The same voice lines from when Syd was searching for David in episode 1 are played. I guess there go to whenever Davids lost (whether in the world or in his mind) is to transmit Syds voice calling his name in hopes he’ll hear it and come back.

Kerry can pick locks.

The concept of “bad mutants” is well established amongst the veteran summerland crew. Ptonomy’s caution about David is probably because he feels he has a selfish vibe, and that’s a well known red flag of “bad mutants.”

It should also be noted he’s partly afraid of him because he has so much trouble understanding him. His powers, which when used affectively are essentially the ability to understand where someone’s coming from, keep getting overrided by Davids.

It’s now to the point where Ptonomy is doubting his own ability to tell what’s real and what’s not real. He was pretty confident he’d always know somehow in episode 2. Now, not so much.

Ptonomy very early on is open to the idea that David both has powers and psychological issues. “He’s unstable. You try hearing voices for 10-15 years, self medicate with hard drugs and then get dumped in a looney bin.”

Ptonomy also determines that because of his instability combined with the fact he has powers, David is a bomb waiting to go off.

I suppose if we’re trying to figure out their logic with the whole “the combination of being mentally ill and having powers makes him dangerous”, and considering that their right now going over an incident where David robbed his therapist for drug money and then bashed the doctors head in when he came back, the direct concern is that David makes bad decisions and/or selfish decisions (at least), and if he were to make a bad decision regarding his powers a lot of innocent people could get very badly hurt. Or killed. Along with the worry that the voices in his head don’t exactly give him the most angelic of advice at times, and because of his powers he’s very capable of fulfilling their wills, so to speak.

Based on Olivers speech at the beginning of the episode though, it might be safe to say the overall message is instead of acting on fear they should act on empathy and help David overcome his problems instead of vilifying him for his mental illness.

Syd suggest Davids hiding his real memories behind a fake ones and Ptonomy says she going through a lot of effort just to convince herself Davids a good guy. I never really got what he meant, but I guess what he meant is that Syd’s trying to find a justifiable reason for why David would attack Dr Poole like he did when the obvious answer is just “He’s got violent tendencies.” I always just thought she was genuinely hypothesizing, ya know, trying to solve the case. Maybe she was and Ptonomy’s just mean.

“I was looking for the man I loved. Or did I just love the idea of him? The face he showed me?” Doubt springs up early. Why can none of the characters reconcile that a person can have both good and evil in them at the same time? That’s... all people, in fact.

When Kissinger ask if Amy knew David had powers Amy says, “I think so.” Amy potentially acted on fear as well, in regards to her and Davids childhood that is.

Kerry mostly only thinks of herself in relation to Cary.

Cary misses Kerry when she’s gone. Even besides the roles they fill for each other, they generally enjoy each others company. They’re quite literally as close as 2 people can be. Each one living for the sake of the other.

Davids once again surrounded by a crowd of people all yelling in his face. After they disappear though he recovers pretty fast. I guess he’s used to it.

Clockworks Podcast pointed out that the music Davids wincing at is sax heavy Jazz, which is (abstractly) the sound The Devil With Yellow Eyes makes whenever he appears. If my theory about David seeing through the 4th wall is correct, then maybe he’s actually hearing that sound whenever TDWYE is around. Alternatively, Farouk blast that in his head everytime to mess with him.

“Sorry... I forgot about your um... I had a similar- proclivity? Malady? I forget the word- what’s the word? I’ve been here a long time.”

If the previous paragraphs are right, Oliver’s probably implying he was also affected by a mental parasite at some point. It might’ve even been what stranded him in the astral plane.

From Davids perspective he skipped over the entire second half of Chapter 3.

Oliver is essentially explaining the plot of the show to David and the audience before it’s even been unfurled.

“You have an unquiet mind, so you war with yourself, like a dog trying to chew off its own tail.”

David’s still in a very pessimistic guilt ridden place at this point in the story. That’s probably the internal war Oliver’s talking about.

... why can’t Oliver leave the astral plane again? If he did have his own mental parasite, it seems long gone by now. If he just can’t find his way back, then how does he do it in Chapter 7?

Syd calls non-mutants “normals.”

“We were the ghost in a haunted house.” ~Syd, Chapter 4

“You think ghost like living in a haunted house?” ~Syd, Chapter 12

Why does Syd keep hallucinating The Angriest Boy? Or is that just visual metaphor?

Ptonomy’s a very, “Get the job done and look classy while doing it” sorta guy.

“To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.” ~Sun Tzu, Ptonomy

Is the above quote perhaps relevant to the shows message during other conflicts throughout the series? Could it be subtly implying all the characters should always look for non-violent ways to defeat their enemies? I.e. not just a classy line from Ptonomy, but a statement of themes within the show.

The food David, Philly, and Dr Poole are having in Philly’s memories is cherry pie.

In Philly’s memory David says, “I don’t keep a lot of stuff.” And Philly comments that there’s no evidence David had a past. At least among the things David owns at that point. I know Farouk edited a lot of Davids memories, but why did David himself get rid of so much physical stuff? Syd said the reason he broke into Dr Pooles that day was to destroy their taped conversations. What’s compelling him to erase himself from existence? Is it as simple as “Farouk”? It seems like on a deeper level David doesn’t want anyone to know too much about him. Everyone’s only allowed to know what he tells them. His way of feeling in control I guess.

Philly did the classic “I can fix him” when she started dating David.

Philly implies David going off his medication and keeping bad company is what caused the downfall of their relationship. And subsequently his life, probably.

Despite everything, Philly still feels sympathetic towards David.

“Whoever altered Davids memory-“ Ptonomy very early on humors the idea that Davids being acted on by a 3rd party.

The longer Kerry is away from Cary, the more antsy she is for a fight. She’s not supposed to have to sit through all this “boring stuff.”

Ptonomy left after he got the info on Pooles location from Philly. He probably wanted to get the rest of the information from the source. Ironically, they probably woulda gotten closer to the real answer if he’d just looked a bit longer.

Sys proudly says “Yes” when “Dr Poole” ask if she’s in love with David.

It never really comes up again, but Kerry and Cary are physically linked. Maybe even psychologically. When one of them gets hurt, or even exerts their body a lot, the other can feel it, even if their own body doesn’t take on the actual damage. This is still true even if they’re miles apart.

Syds definitely portrayed as the hero at the end of this scene.

“All those years of practice-“ A part of David always knew he had powers. I wonder, did he practice a little in secret? Or is he saying he was at Summerland for years? That doesn’t really add up. But then... what does he mean by years?

Lenny encourages David to get angry so that his powers will strengthen enough for them to overpower the astral plane. Sort of... cheating his way out. David will later achieve more feats of strength through honing his emotions. Like many heroes, his level of power is intrinsically linked to his emotional state.

Very directly here, Davids violence is caused by ignorance. He doesn’t know Syd switched bodies with Walter and is trying to escape.

#legion fx

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kendrixtermina · 4 years

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Would you think that Rhea was a tyrant, or did Edelgard try to undermine the good things she's done and paint her only in a bad light?

What we see happening first-hand on-screen never left me any doubt that Rhea is a tyrant, and it’s obvious no matter what route you play, long before Edelgard even features into it. Just as importantly, she is glaringly incompetent.

It’s not just Edelgard saying it either, if anything Claude levels even worse accusations at Rhea. Heck even if you S support her she admits that, though you redeemed her, she definitely used to be a villain, she says word for word that she fabricated fake histories, abused her authority for selfish gain, was at one point gleefully hoping for the MC to suffer death of personality, and that the war was at least partially her fault. If you’re a bad ruler, people are going to revolt, and you’re responsible for that. It’s not like they could vote her out. Heck, they couldn’t even dispose of her the Feudalist way (getting enough lords to back a different ruler) since she derived her authority directly from the local deity. And any religious leaders who disagree on theological grounds get purged as heretics.

We see her kill dissenters without even asking questions or investigating (which is likely why she never caught the Agarthans), “purge” a whole branch of her organization, coverup unsavory facts regarding the relics and the nobility ( after the Miklan business), make young members of the ruling class take out these dissenters specifically to teach them not to question her (It’s almost like having to join “the party” to get higher education really) and she wants Sothis to come back and literally “rule this wayward land once more”, flat out telling Byleth (who she thought was Sothis at the time) how she has been doing the ruling in her place, ie she outright says in her own words that she’s the real ruler of Fodlan. The borders are literally arranged so that her stronghold is in the middle through the stronghold existed first.

And as for the additional information that Edelgard puts on the table she’s basically saying that she knows cause her own folks were complicit until a few generations ago, that her family was a bunch of traitors, that their claim to royalty was based on selling out humanity… not exactly the most self-serving thing to go around claiming. What also makes her credible here, at least in my eyes, is that she doesn’t really have interest in ruling. She never wanted to be the heir and never would have been if her older siblings weren’t murdered and says constantly how much rather she would be living an ordinary life, and how she’s going to abdicate and run off as soon as the work is done. She never asked for power, but power fell into her lap and with it, a lot of responsibility - she’s one of the very few people who are in any position to maybe stop this effect up system.

She’s certainly not above spins, secrecy and information control, and that might’ve worked against her in terms of making her manifestos look like a “he said she said” situation to the public, but this - this is her motivation. This is why she’s doing all the other stuff.

But even if you disregarded everything Edelgard says as not credible/likealy biased and looked just at what we see on screen in part 1 with no middlemen involved, and what Claude says, you could build a solid case for how she’s a tyrant. look at, say, Caspar’s and Bernie’s horrified reactions after the western church debacle, Dorothea wondering how exactly making them fight is part of the church’s teaching, anything involving Ashe and Catherine… even Sothis calls her out for the indoctrination and the sheer incompetence. (which is kinda sad cause she’d probably have been less harsh if she had known that that’s her daughter)

Edelgard is by far not the only person who objects to Rhea, you have two separate rebellions against her in one year, they’re regular enough that putting them down is practically part of the curriculum.

Everyone worships her because she’s a high-ranking religious functionary but I don’t see how she really does that much good. She takes in a bunch of poor people but that is not hard for her to do, costs her nothing and wins her adoration. It’s not like she’s personally caring for the orphans.

And given her role in maintaining the status quo, any “good things” she does come off like a billionaire donating to charity after they have supported politicians that are against wage increases and worker rights …maybe they care only about the tax breaks and don’t have anything against the poor or minorities, but they’re still perpetuating that system.

It may not have been her primary intention, but Rhea is the reason that these people are poor and discriminated in the first place. She’s not doing people kind favors, she’s badly and insufficiently mitigating the damage caused by her own actions, and you get no badge for that.

Out of the younger characters, Cyril, Mercedes, Raphael, Leonie, Ashe and Dorothea were all dirt poor at some point (that’s all the commoners bar Byleth, Ignatz and Dedue, and the latter’s idyllic village life childhood took place before Duscur was under Fodlanese rule) and only Mercedes and Cyril received any charity… and Cyril basically got a marginally less sucky job that he’s only grateful for because of how much his previous life sucked. (directly because of Rhea’s isolationism policies!)

Catherine, at least, was blatantly used. She turned to a trusted authority figure in a moment of doubt when she genuinely didn’t know what to do, was roped into doing dirty work, and her extreme loyalty is a result of her guilt; She can’t question Rhea because that might mean confronting the possibility that she killed her best friend for nothing.

Notably the one who seems to have been well-taking care of (Mercedes) lived at a small local church, not something controlled by the central organization.

Edelgard is basically a product of the effed up world Rhea created, the summation of all her errors comming back to haunt her. If you see her as part of the problem and not the solution, then she’s a problem of Rhea’s own making.

No one IRL is 100% a cartoonish villain all the time, even dictators and terrorists have, say, favorite colors and movies. But there’s a critical mass or percentage after which the word ‘evil’ is appropriate to use, and Rhea’s crossed it long before Edelgard was even born - and you could make a solid case for that even if you accepted the premise that every word out of Edelgard’s mouth is lies.

#fe3h #fire emblem: three houses #fire emblem three houses

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notquitejiraiya · 4 years

Text

Chess [30] - {ShikaTema AU}

It’s been a while. Exams are vile and get in the way, but I’m back now!!

I hope you enjoy :)

[READ/COMMENT ON AO3]

CHAPTER THIRTY

“You okay, Temari?”

She turned to her brother sharply and nodded. The road seemed to be going on forever, and after sitting in the passenger seat of the van for nearly four hours Temari was ready to jump out. She was grateful that, after talking some things through with Baki, Kankuro was perkier and humming along to the radio as he drove, but that didn’t ease her anxiousness to get home. Every sign she saw counted down the distance, but it never seemed to move fast enough for her racing mind.

The useless phone in her pocket seemed to jab at her with every fidgety movement she made. It hurt how much she longed to hear it ring and that weary voice breathe life into the device once more after over two days, and she kept getting lost in her visions of such impossibilities.

“Sorry,” said Kankuro, a subtle crack in his voice. “I know how much you hate visiting Mum.”

Temari shrugged. “It’s not that I hate it, the place just holds too much hate for me, and that’s not your fault—it’s his,” she sighed, letting her eyes flicker down to her restless fingertips. “And, besides, it’s nice visiting Baki.”

“His advice is always good.”

“It is.”

The radio lingered in the background, and a familiar song suddenly started spilling from the speakers. Temari bit down on her lip as she recognised it as one which had been playing in Shikamaru’s car on Saturday, and felt her heart leap a little as the man’s voice sounded. Kankuro leaned over to adjust the channel, disgruntled, but she smacked his hand away to turn it up. “Why are you so miserable all of a sudden?” Temari crossed her arms as a chill crept in through the air vents. “Are you still het up about Suki?”

“I just don’t know why I flip out like I do with girls,” he mumbled, his eyes flicking toward her cautiously, “and I don’t need you to analyse me to tell me it’s about Mum being gone, but—”

“It’s fine.” She smiled and elbowed him gently. “You only had me to help you understand women growing up, and I’m not sure most women are like me.”

Kankuro let out a faint chuckle. “Well, Gaara turned out fine with that.”

“Gaara’s never been cheated on—it’s completely different.”

“I don’t want to sound like a wimp, Temari, but it’s every single time,” he grumbled. “Do I treat girls badly? Am I that much like Dad?”

“You’re nothing like Dad, Kankuro.”

He laughed in a somewhat maniacal fashion, and Temari didn’t like it. “But I am. You’ve said it yourself.”

“Yeah, well I can be a bitch, can’t I?” She waiting for a calmer expression to settle on her brothers face. “Look, we can drive back and forth to Suna to visit Mum’s grave or talk to Baki, but you’re the one who’s got to put their foot down and say you’re not going to take it anymore.” Temari let out a chuckle. “And I can pick apart all the differences between you and Dad psychologically to make you feel better all you want, but the fact still remains that Dad did love Mum. He might even have loved us.”

“I don’t care if he did or didn’t love us, Tem. I just want to stop scaring people off.”

There was something so pitiful in his voice—a sadness Temari hadn’t heard in many years. She had to admit this had become routine with him and women, and the only one who hadn’t been turned off by Kankuro’s intense attempts at romance had become the source of much laughter for the other siblings. The way Temari saw it, other than crazy poem lady, women saw Kankuro as shallow and so most treated him that way in return. It was cruel, but she could understand their reasoning, and when they didn’t follow that path for whatever reason, she’d watch her brother fumble about with clichés to a point where Temari could barely listen to the poor wretch.

Right now, watching his glazed eyes stare ahead at the highway, she wished a slap on the back could solve everything for her. It was more than just a little frustrating of him to sit there, clearly fishing for relationship advice, after all he’d said to her the last few weeks. But, just as always, Temari found it difficult not to voice her opinion.

If he wants help, she thought, I’m not sugar coating it.

Temari threw her head back onto the chair with a sigh. “Well, for starters, stop trying to be extravagant. Not everyone likes that.”

“Do you?”

“Nope, I despise it.”

“But what about that bloke who wrote you a song?”

“Why do you think I dumped him, Kankuro?”

He smiled, properly this time, and Temari felt something settle in her chest. “I can’t speak for all women, but I just like knowing someone will back me up if I need them to.”

“Well, I can do that.”

Temari screwed her nose up. “Maybe, but you don’t listen. Listening is the important bit.”

Although he didn’t seem to understand her, her brother nodded along. “I’ll always back you up, Temari, you can count on me. If our roles were reversed and you’d been cheated on I would’ve punched someone by now—I’m surprised you didn’t.”

She tried not to ball her fists, each word he said growing less meaningful. “Thankfully I have some level of self control.”

“And you’re too smart to find yourself in my shoes,” he chuckled. “Or at least you used to be.”

Her head turned slowly. “Meaning?”

Kankuro said nothing, simply snorted and shrugged without even glancing her way, and she didn’t need more than a second to understand what he meant.

“So it’s like that, is it?” she spat. “Go on, then: explain it to me.”

“What?” He sounded defensive, and it riled her up beyond belief. As if he had the right to act dumbfounded. “Explain what?”

“You know what, moron: Shikamaru,” she growled. Her stomach twisted into knots as the radio continued to play that song, almost as if it was rooting for her. “What exactly is your problem with him?”

“I don’t have—”

“Don’t lie to me. Spit it out.”

Kankuro “Tem, you know…he’s y—”

“Don’t give me the ‘he’s your patient’ bullshit.” She imitated him with her go-to mimic of sassy quote marks and narrow eyes. Temari thought he might’ve laughed if not for the menacing stare that accompanied it. “He isn’t, and he won’t ever be again.”

“You worked, Tem. You can’t let that go to waste.”

“Now you sound like Dad. Is that really what you want?”

Her brother shot her a maddened glance as he pulled off the highway, and she could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Immediately she knew she’d struck a nerve, but after all the harsh words he’d dealt her on the topic in the past, Temari found it near on impossible to feel sorry for the man. She wanted to—she really did—and she knew the connotations of what she had said, but since that chess board had been shelved two weeks ago logic felt almost meaningless.

Temari found herself driven more by emotion every day thanks to Shikamaru’s obscure place in her life; he slotted in perfectly to this puzzle she’d build for herself without even meaning to, and while that scared her to death it also filled her with this sense of self she’d never quite felt before. These past few weeks, as mind-bendingly frustrating as they had been at times, cemented the fact she was allowed to be angry just as much as Kankuro was. More than that she was allowed to feel happy, however that feeling came about, just as Shikamaru was.

Proudly, Temari looked back at the road and crossed her arms tight across her chest. “I thought as much,” she gloated to herself quietly as she twisted the volume knob of the radio up slightly, but Kankuro’s arm snapped out, instantly turning it right down.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you, okay?” he said, desperate annoyance lingering on his tongue. “I don’t want anyone to hurt my sister while I can help it.”

“Your sister can think for herself, and fend for herself.” Temari shook her head, staring out the window. “It’s honestly offensive how incapable you think I am, Kankuro. Do you realise that?”

“I know you can fend for yourself, but you aren’t—”

“I am capable of doing all the things I need to be able to do without your help,” she snarled. “I didn’t have to come with you. I could’ve let you go alone, or even have taken a leaf out of your book and forbid you to go where you wanted.”

“You couldn’t do that.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

They pulled up to a traffic light and the pair jolted from the aggressive breaking.

Temari’s head turned, the tip of her nose twitching. “That’s the difference between us, Kankuro,” she said bluntly. “I care about you, and that’s why I let you make mistakes and learn from them. I can’t count the number of times I could’ve thrown out your girlfriend because I thought she’d hurt you, and she did. Being loving—caring for each other—it isn’t about control!”

Kankuro slouched, checking his mirrors. “You don’t have to tell me that—I’m not Dad!”

“Could’ve fucking fooled me!”

He moved off with a start and turned the radio up sharply. Suddenly Phil Collins voice didn’t feel empowering, it ground against her brain until all she heard was static. There wasn’t even an ounce of her that felt bad anymore, she was sick of being treated like a child by such an immature moron, but she couldn’t help noticing that raising her voice of the radio was just angering her more than it was changing his mind.

Kankuro wasn’t going to listen more just because she shouted, he’d just shout back—childhood screaming matches had taught her enough about such things. She had to try a different approach if she wanted to get out of this car with her vocal chords still in tact.

“Look,” she sighed, anger still apparent in her new, somewhat softer tone, “I get that you want me to be safe, but—”

“And not get fired.” Kankuro didn’t move his eyes, just grumbled.

“But this, all of this, just isn’t fair, Kankuro.” She spun in her seat, facing him. “Can you really not see that I won’t get sacked? That it’s just some stupid excuse you’ve zoned in on?”

He huffed despairingly, finally turning off the radio entirely. “But you worked, Tem,” he said, “Too hard—to just throw everything out over the first lost puppy you fancy.”

Her cheeks grew hot. “Lost puppy—can you even hear yourself, you absolute twat!” Who was she kidding? That softness in her voice hadn’t been built to last.

“You’ve got inside his head, you know you have—you always do!” Kankuro scoffed. “This is what always happens with you and guys. You get in their heads, whether you mean to or not.”

“You’ve never mentioned that before,” she spat. “Why is it suddenly a problem now?”

“Because you’re letting him in your head, Tem. You’re practically wearing a kick me sign constantly.”

“Why does everything have to be an argument with you?”

“With you, you mean.”

“Oh, you’re proper mature, aren’t you, Kankuro?”

“If you keep leading him on, Tem, he will end up hurting you.”

Temari almost tore off her seat belt and threw herself out onto the pavement. Her mind was racing so much faster than her body could move, and by the time he’d shaken his head she was one wrong word away from punching him square in the face. She’d tried being calm, however weak an attempt it was, and she’d tried to understand his stupid reasoning. Temari wasn’t sure what more she was supposed to do. There was no way she could feasibly sit here and take in another lie from him without hitting him. She knew she had to ignore him in order to go in for the kill, and she needed to do so calmly.

Slowly but surely, Temari adjusted her position in the seat and took a deep, calming breath. She could see his eyes change beside her as a wave of terror overtook him; this was what she always did when she was past the point of no return. “Kankuro,” she tried slowly, “for one minute can you just stop spouting mindless drivel and shut up? You don’t know him—and what you do know of him is frankly harmless.” Temari balled her fists, ready for the next wave of excuses, and hid them underneath her thighs as though to restrain herself. “Besides, even if he, or anybody else, fucked with me and hurt me, I’m perfectly capable of punching them myself, thank you very much.”

Kankuro bit down on his lip. A distressed expression was quickly weaving its way between the angry lines around his eyes. “Tem—”

“No. Don’t ‘Tem’ me. You don’t have to do this—any of this. It’s not some brotherly requirement. Gaara doesn’t do it—he never would.”

“Temari, listen—”

“No, you listen to me for once, alright? You just fucking listen!” When turned to her, he seemed surprised to see she was holding back tears. It wasn’t something he was used to seeing, but she couldn’t quite comprehend how he thought she wouldn’t be upset by his words. Her snapping, breaking the facade of being collected, was impossible to stop, and as embarrassed as she now was by the wetness around her eyes she refused to wipe it away. “More than that, I don’t want you to do this,” she added, her voice cracking slightly. “I want you to let me live my life and you just live your own.”

He was perturbed now, no doubt, but it just wasn’t enough. She could see it, and she was ready to interrupt the moment he opened his mouth. “But he’s—”

“He’s what?”

“Damaged…”

Temari threw her weight back in the chair and laughed. “Oh, fuck you…”

“What?” Kankuro shifted awkwardly in his seat. He was clearly afraid of her now, and she didn’t care. She just kept on laughing, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Damaged?” She shook her head in amazement at his sheer idiocy. “Take a second to remember that Gaara is also ‘damaged’ as you like to say,” she snarled. "Does that mean the guy he went out with on Saturday should run? Run away from our little, damaged brother before it’s too late to turn back?”

Something was changing in his eyes as he smashed down the indicator, turning left and zooming past the pub. Thank god they were almost home—she couldn’t wait to escape this stupid van and ignore the bastard for another week.

“Of course not,” he said calmly.

Victory was in sight.

“Exactly,” Temari agreed. “So why is it any different for Shikamaru? Why is he not allowed to find love?”

She saw his ears perk up and his eyes flash to look at her. Shit.

“Love?”

Temari had to admit it: the tone was convincing enough that she’d even pondered the word herself for a moment too long. She gulped, rolling her eyes, and decided he didn’t deserve an answer.

“I’m sorry.” The voice was feeble, almost shaky. It took Temari right back to her childhood, and she vividly remembered the moments after he’d spilled apple juice all over her GameBoy. Her blood started to boil at the memory, but she forced her attention back to the present with great effort to see Kankuro chewing nervously on his lip. “You’re right,” he admitted. “It’s not my job to control your life.”

“No,” she repeated. “It isn’t.”

“I’m sorry for pissing you off, and for yelling at you.”

There was a beat as he pulled to the side of the road, smiling at her hopefully until she wiped her eyes and forced one in return.

“Well, I’m not sorry for yelling at you at all,” she sighed as the van ground to a halt. “Your whole argument is built on hypocrisy and…bullshit.”

Kankuro reached over, avoiding her eyes, and gave her hand a quick squeeze as he hopped out of the car. Once the frustration settled slightly and her shoulders softened, Temari followed suit with a smile that felt a lot more real. Even if it was impossible to tell how much, she had achieved something from this.

“So, explain,” her brother started, mimicking the bitter tone which she had begun the fiasco, “what exactly is so good about this boyfriend of yours?”

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

He started laughing as he hauled their bags out the back of the van. “Oh, honestly—the nerve you’ve got.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“I just mean, after ten solid minutes or more of yelling I’d almost rather he was, you know? It’d be worth the bullshit.”

Temari felt herself blush as she pushed the van doors shut. “So, you don’t mind if I see him again?”

“Oh,” he laughed, “I really fucking mind.”

“Kankuro…” Her low voice came as a warning, but she wasn’t sure she had the patience to go through it all again.

He shrugged. “Just hate the idea of someone shagging my sister. It’s gross.”

Temari, holding back a smirk she was desperate not to show, whacked him in the knees with her holdall and laughed as he wobbled. “You’re gross, but I guess I get that.”

“You know you can’t make me like him?”

She nodded and backed away towards the front door. “I know, and I don’t need you to,” she smiled. “But I do need you to stop being a nutcase about him.”

“Nutcase?”

“No more creepy texts to Gaara, and no more confronting him at work.”

Kankuro held back a laugh, pursing his lips. She didn’t like that look. It was playful, yes, but he looked like a child ready to jump on the sandcastle she’d just spent hours perfecting—not that such a memory still angered her to this day or anything.

“Say you won’t do it, Kankuro.”

“Fine,” he laughed, throwing a set keys for her to catch. “I won’t do it.”

“You swear?”

There was a tut and a telling eye roll before he nodded. “I promise.”

~~~

Torso wrapped tightly in a towel, Temari hurried back into her bedroom still high on the steam of the bathroom. The feeling of warm water on her skin had felt impossibly good after hours sat stiffly in the van; her body felt wonderfully relaxed. Her mind, however, was still racing.

Her eyes darted to the screen of her charging phone as it lit up. Unable to wait she threw her damp hair up and pulled the first jumper she reached over her head. As it settled on her shoulders she noticed the faintest hint of Shikamaru’s minty shampoo and a warm feeling started to grow in her abdomen, but she didn’t let it slow her down for more than a second. Temari hopped over to her desk, half dressed and took the phone in her hand. Fifty-percent charged—that was enough for now.

She tore the cable from it and fell back onto her bed, tapping in four digits to unlock the world she’d longed for these last few days.

4 missed calls

2 voicemails

It felt like Christmas all over again when she read the name.

Temari had never clicked on something so fast. She pressed the phone against her ear, grinning proudly.

“Tem, um, hi…”

A shiver flew down her spine.

Shikamaru cleared his throat quickly. “I’m, um, just checking in ‘cause you said you’d call and, well, um…you haven’t.” She heard a heavy sigh. “I, um, I just wanted to say sorry I didn’t stick around when your brother turned up. I hope whatever happened isn’t that much of a disaster that you won’t call.” The cough sounded again, and she realised that his voice was almost a whisper. Not just that, he sounded impossibly sad—nervous with all of his stutters and mumbles. Whenever she had come face to face with this man’s sadness before, it had been laced with the same deadpan tone he held ninety-percent of the time he spoke. “Please,” he mumbled, his monotone voice clearly worried. “Call me.”

She tore the phone from her ear and immediately tapped the second message, bracing her chest to hear the same pitiful voice echoing down the line. But it didn’t come.

“Right, hello,” said a voice so confidently bright she almost didn’t recognise it. “He won’t admit to it but he really misses you—he refuses to talk about you when I ask. Right now he’s out smoking but the idiot’s left his phone in here as if I’m not going to ring you, and he knows I know his password is password—and so do you now, shit.”

There was a spritely laugh and a sweet snort. It was Choji, no doubt about it.

“I hear that you’re busy and can’t reach him, but if there’s some chance you get this, please call him.”

Something Temari could only pin as sickening worry shot through her.

“He’s fine,” he added, “don’t worry or anything when you hear this.”

Too late, she wished she could say, already trying to steady herself.

“But just give him a shout, yeah? He won’t admit it, but it’s pretty much all he wants.” There was a soft chuckle and what sounded like non-committal shouting in the background. She chuckled. Choji had been rumbled. “Okay, cheers—see you soon, Ma—bye! Look, Shikamaru, mine died and I had to ring Ma about dinner and—”

The line went dead and Temari found herself giggling. She was glad to have had her life touched by such kind people. Shikamaru stole the limelight, but knowing one of those people was Choji—one of the nicest men she’d had the pleasure of meeting—made her excited at the thought of meeting the rest of his circle.

Temari blinked harshly and shook her head and almost started laughing at herself. He hadn’t even introduced her to his other friend—to Ino—and there was still some nagging part in her brain wondering why. Sudden and unwarranted waves of jealousy still plagued her now and again. After all, what if Kankuro was right? What if there was something there—some unspoken history he’d never admit to?

“Oh, get over yourself, girl,” she told herself sharply. “When is Kankuro ever right?”

Grumbling, she let her eyes drift back down to her phone and scrolled through the messages that had been sent. Most of them read the same, a simple ‘hi’ and nothing more, but the very last two changed. Temari bit down on her lip to stop herself grinning like an idiot as her frustrations subsided, replaced only with excitement.

(13:18) Shikamaru: Hi. Gaara told me where you are, so ignore all my pointless messages.

(13:32) Shikamaru: It’s weird not hearing your voice. Let me know when you’re home safe, yeah? x

Never in her life had Temari been happier to see the letter ‘x’.

—> I’m home x

She dropped the phone on her bed beside her and reached for a pair of leggings. They were barely over her thighs by the time her phone buzzed, and her head shot around.

(22:46) Shikamaru: Good x

Unable to contain her excitement, Temari’s thumb was already hovering over the call button at the top of the screen when it buzzed a second time.

(22:46) Shikamaru: I’m outside x

She retracted her thumb, checked her doorway was empty of siblings, and quickly tapped out a response as she sprinted downstairs to look out of the front window. She could see the shadow of a ponytail as he stepped into the spotlight of a streetlamp, and watched him point up to her front door.

—> You can’t come in x

(22:47) Shikamaru: Kankuro’s in then x

—>I spoke to him and he might not deck you anymore but dont wanna push it x

The little laugh she watched him let out was beautiful. Temari didn’t realise how much she’d missed the little shudder of his shoulders until it was right before her, and she couldn’t hold herself back from pressing call on her phone. The moment the phone hit her ear he had answered and she bit down on her bottom lip, stopping herself from pressing herself against the window as if that would somehow close the distance between them.

It felt pathetic, but Temari didn’t care.

She smirked at the clearing of his throat, aware he couldn’t see her. “Have you been following me?”

“Nah,” he laughed. “You’re such a pain to keep track of, though, you know that?”

“Well, you found me.”

Shikamaru shook his head. “Bad luck on my part,” he sneered. “I saw the van go past while I was having a ciggie outside the pub. Choji probably hasn’t even noticed I’ve abandoned him for you yet.”

Temari snorted and immediately blushed, grateful for the distance between them as he chuckled to himself. “Ah, so the man has drink in him?”

“Oh, yeah—I’m all orange-juiced up,” he nodded.

“Did Choji give you an extra straw yet?”

“Of course he didn’t.”

She laughed, pressing her fingertips against the windowpane. “I missed you,” she whispered gently down the line, half expecting to see him outwardly cringe, but instead she saw him simply take a puff of cigarette. It was almost disappointing.

“I’m sure you did,” he tutted, “you’re obsessed with me.”

Temari let herself sit on her windowsill and leaned against the window as she’d longed to do from the moment she saw him, opening the window a crack. The night wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been before she left for her godfather’s, and there was a subtle warmth drifting through the February air. She heard the echo as he cleared his throat bounced around the terraced houses as well as down the phone line, and didn’t bother holding back her grin. She really had missed him. But she couldn’t say that again. It would be weird. Yes, by now they were good friends—it was fine for friends to miss each other, but it wasn’t fine for her to still be thinking back to last week and the way he’d stormed into her office. The way he’d grabbed her waist and kissed her—kissed every part of her—wasn’t an acceptable train of thought to have every time she saw caught sight of him.

“So,” she started, desperate to derail the ideas racing in her mind, “have you met Chojuro yet?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied sharply.

Temari nodded. “He’s good. He’ll help you.”

“So I hear.” It was clear to see him stiffen up at the thought of it. Shikamaru began kicking the leaves at his feet, his shoulders hunched that slightest bit more than before. Temari couldn’t help wondering if he felt what she did; that this was the end somehow. “I won’t mention you.”

“I don’t mind,” she told him with a giggle, hoping a happy tone of voice might loosen those burdened shoulder. If only she could sprint down right now and hug him until she felt that stiffness fade away. “But if you do, call me something else don’t I don’t lose my job, okay?”

Shikamaru shrugged and dropped his cigarette, squishing it. “Fine. I’ll call you Tara.”

“Don’t like it.”

“Tori then.”

“Worse.”

“Tori it is.”

The moment she’d said it, Temari regretted it. It wasn’t even far enough from her name for a man like Chojuro not to pick up on what lay behind it, but she suspected that this was nothing more than a wind up. Shikamaru wasn’t stupid—she new it for a fact, as much as she questioned it in every day moments. If driving her mad and irritating her in jest was going to put a spring in his step, as it seemed to do, she wasn’t ever going to let him stop. Now the shit-eating grin across his lips was so clear it stood out in the darkness, and Temari couldn’t help the smug feeling that swarmed her.

She’d done that, put that smile on his face, and nothing had ever felt quite like this. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d even been this proud when she’d received her degree. Why was she so pleased with herself for making a man smile that she couldn’t keep her own excitement at bay? Watching those perfectly broad shoulders jitter with another chuckle, Temari made the executive decision to ask Gaara once she went up to bed.

Look at you, Temari, she cursed, a therapist having to ask her little brother what her feelings mean…

She looked up at the stars above them, shining brighter than they had even back in her hometown last night, and her heart swelled as she heard Shikamaru’s laugh bounce around the houses once again. “What?” she asked. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing’s funny,” he told her, “I’m just happy.”

It was nearly impossible not to jump out the window and run to him.

A small smile spread across her lips. She’d repeated to everyone that he wasn’t her patient anymore for what felt like forever, and she’d known from the start that the most difficult person to convince of that would be herself. But, as she watched him raise a new cigarette to his lips, Temari instantly noticed the change in her approach to him, and she realised it wasn’t difficult at all.

Since she had met Shikamaru, Temari had been determined to fix him—that is what her job had been, after all, and he had asked her to do it. But now all she needed was to see that smile. She didn’t care who put it there, or uncrossed all the wires that might’ve been jumbled in his mind. As of now, that wasn’t her responsibility, even if she wanted it to be. Her responsibility was to be a friend for him to fall back on when he needed her; to be someone to rely on for encouragement, or a laugh when things seemed dark again. She was never going to stop wanting him to be better, or stop wanting to rid him of the troubles he carried in his mind, but Temari realised now that it had never really been her job to do that.

Shikamaru had entered her office that day for one reason, and she knew she had failed to provide him with what he really needed from the start. It was clear to Temari now that whether she succeeded or failed in the past really mattered—she wasn’t the person who was supposed to do this. He had stepped into that office and in doing so he had gained a friend; that’s all she needed to be for him now.

Maybe, one day, he would want more from her than just a helping hand. With all her might she longed to care for him in a way that wasn’t ruled by science and logic. She wanted to hear about the intricacies of his feelings and take them in, hold him if he cried just so he knew someone was there; no words or analysis required or wanted. There was something perfect to her about comfort without reason or explanation, just because she could and because she wanted to.

But what Temari wanted, in reality, faded into nothing with perspective. All she could think of that mattered in this very moment was him, right there, staring up at with a smile.

“I should get back to Choji.”

The warm feeling that had spread through her chest was momentarily accompanied by a jab in the gut. This was it. “Oh, right,” she mumbled. “Okay, then.”

Every hitch in her breath said it clearly wasn’t, and even Shikamaru wasn’t far enough away to ignore the sudden change in her posture. “I can stay on the phone if you want,” he offered.

“I’m a big girl I don’t need you to do that,” she scoffed, stubborn as ever. As if she’d ever admit she did, in fact, want to hear him talk longer—forever in fact. She knew the change was coming, she wanted it, but that didn’t mean she was reader for him to leave tonight.

“But you missed me.” He started walking away backwards, only a few steps, but he seemed a world away. “Wouldn’t want to deny you more of my voice?”

“Well, the voice I can live without.”

There was a pause and an awkward cough from his end of the phone.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Shikamaru.”

I definitely did.

“Temari, your mind is filthy.”

She blushed, a devilishness creeping to the forefront of her mind. “I’m not the one who likes it when they’re—”

“No!” he spat over her. Shikamaru stopped dead, pointing back at her accusatively. “Not while I’m walking down the street. Let me keep my dignity, woman.”

Temari was sure that she’d get noise complaints come the morning from the laughter that flew out the window into the open air. He sent the same, cackling laugh right back, and that same overwhelming feeling of pride crept over her. It almost broke her when they finally fell silent and he raised his hand to say goodbye, slow and solemn.

He didn’t want to leave either, and he was barely even hiding it, but he began stepping back anyway. As much as it felt terrible, Temari knew she had to let him disappear around the corner. It hadn’t felt real that he’d be moving on until his departure right now. It was finally sinking in that, when she’d see him next, she’d have no reason for her to consider him her responsibility; he’d be another patient come tomorrow morning, and this part of their lives had ended. Temari had no idea what would follow, and she could only hope things fell into place as they did when her eyes fluttered shut at night, but for now she needed to let go of the first patient she had made smile and watch him grow into the man she knew he could be, the man she wanted.

Temari gulped, suddenly realising exactly what that feeling in her chest was.

“Night,” said Shikamaru, cutting through the silence with the cleanest and most careful voice.

“Goodnight. I’ll call you,” she mumbled, waving meekly in return. “Really this time, no bullshit.”

She couldn’t see his smile anymore when he grew silent, but she prayed it was there.

“Temari?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you so much.”

Temari bit down on her lip as unwanted tears formed in her waterline. “I know, flower boy,” she sighed. “I know.”

#shikatema #shikamaru #temari #fanfic #Naruto fanfic #forbidden love #nqj chess #modern au #alternative universe

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touchmycoat · 4 years

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um, hello! if you wouldn't mind, a request: what do you think about sabo who sorta has ptsd/anxiety/sometimes finds it hard to shut up his thoughts and Sleep and marco gets what it's like to find it hard to sleep and ace knows how hard it is to get your mistakes and regrets to shut up, and the two of them working him over to help him get out of his own head?

Hello anon~! A lovely, lovely prompt, thank you so much. I do adore vulnerable!Sabo and Ace & Marco taking care of him.

Second Chances ‘verse, MAS, Rated T for generalized trauma and vague references to violence

There was never any rhyme nor reason, the nights Marco would come awake and find Sabo just staring at Ace with a hand curled around Ace’s wrist.

The first time Marco caught him at it, Sabo had given him such a glare. Not the oh-that-sounds-dreadful-challenge-accepted glare or the you-did-something-so-stupid-that-I-have-to-mask-my-concern-with-irateness glare that was more the norm these days, but the genuine, I-will-kill-you-and-then-myself-if-you-tell-anyone emotion of days long past.

He needs to keep a hand on Ace’s pulse, was Marco’s last bleary thought that very first time, before he rolled right back around to sleep, and to give Sabo the privacy he so clearly craved.

Ace didn’t often wake up on nights like this, because he was a deep sleeper to begin with, and Sabo was dreadfully good at keeping himself still-but-not-too-still, attentive without the intensive fixation that would wake up anyone with decent battle instincts. The only reason Marco was ever woken up was decades of shifts in intensive care; the slightest change in breathing pattern, the slightest twitch of distress had Marco coming awake in an instant, all doctorly attention.

But it’s not like that doctorly attention did anyone much good, if Sabo wouldn’t let him get within fifty feet to put any healing into practice.

Marco ended up asking Ace about it, because it’s wasn’t pride that had stayed his tongue for so long. The one night though, that Marco saw the smear of red on Sabo’s teeth, he knew something had to be done. Instead of blinking once and rolling over like he’s done so many times before, that night, Marco glared back. He let Sabo know that enough was enough, and he was forcing the issue if Sabo wasn’t going to resolve it himself.

By daybreak Sabo was gone, leaving Marco to bring the issue and the awkward question—hey, I know he loves you and all but do you think I might’ve scared Sabo off for good last night?—up to Ace himself.

He did what? Pulling a stricken expression, Ace had jumped immediately into his boots and on his feet, headed for the door. And it’s not like Marco could even dream that he knew better about Sabo than Ace, but he understood the value of a second opinion—so he stalled Ace with a hand on wrist. Over pulse point.

Do you think confronting him about it is the best solution yoi? It was a genuine question, and Ace’s guilty furrow of his brow was a clear answer. So Marco asked his next question, and do you think he would just… leave?

Of course not, Ace answered sharply. He wouldn’t. He won’t. He has to come back.

Then can we afford to wait? Give him space?

…If, Ace finally said after genuine consideration, he doesn’t show within 20 hours, I’m going after him.

Marco made himself not take Ace’s first person singular personally.

But it worked out fine, because Sabo actually came back by hour fifteen. Night had settled again by then, and at a time when the two or three of them would typically be getting ready to sleep, Sabo opened the bedroom door to Marco and Ace still fully geared up to head out in a moment’s notice. Ace made a beeline for Sabo and clasped his sworn brother’s shoulders in his hands, and Marco didn’t try to see either of their expressions, blocked from his line of sight.

It’s fine, Sabo mumbled, all his stiff lines immediately relaxing into Ace’s touch. It just happens.

What can I do? was Ace’s immediate question. It had been the one on Marco’s mind too, in that precise trajectory—what could Ace do? Sabo’s made it more than clear that this wasn’t something he’d welcome Marco’s interference in. Should I—?

What, not sleep? Sabo snorted. Nah, it’s actually better if you’re sleeping. It’s more calming, I swear.

It, Marco figured, must refer to Ace’s pulse, Ace’s breathing. So what Marco witnessed wasn’t the symptoms, but the attempted pain alleviation.

(An attempt that was still failing, if the fact that Sabo was chewing holes straight through the inside of his mouth was any indication.)

You really don’t have to feel guilty about that, Ace said in anguish, both for Sabo and at himself, for having nothing but such an obvious statement to make. It was as if the most straightforward remedy provoked an allergic reaction in Sabo, all his systems rejecting what sounded like the simplest truth to Marco’s ears.

I just need to know you’re alive. This Sabo said so softly that Marco knew he was not meant to have heard. So he ducked his head and turned further, trying to give them privacy while simultaneously consider a secondary course of treatment. He had made up his mind about changing things, and any doctor worth his salt wouldn’t let a little thing like allergies get in the way of healing. So Marco let them murmur to each other, standing right there in the middle of their bedroom, while he stared hard at his lone bookshelf digging for an answer.

It took another few nights spent together for the attack to happen again. Or perhaps, for Sabo to slip up enough to wake Marco again.

There was, Marco thought as he noted Sabo’s hand over Ace’s wrist again, as he watched the soft motions of Sabo’s jaw as Sabo chewed on inner cheek tissue, something oddly ironic about the roles at play here. It was Sabo who’d “died” in their childhoods, but now, it was Sabo who feared (in such a visceral way) Ace’s death. Perhaps it had to do with processing; after all, Ace and Luffy have had much longer to come to terms with Sabo’s death, whereas Sabo learned of every way he’s lost and could still lose Ace all within, what, a couple of hours? It’s only been a few months since then—enough time for wounds to heal, sure, but also enough time for deep psychological trauma to fester and surface.

Perhaps it also had to do with Sabo himself, and the return of his past identity. He was Ace and Luffy’s brother, but that deeply treasured, deeply engrained marker of existence had been powerless against his amnesia. Perhaps it left Sabo feeling unmoored on multiple fronts, where on one hand he couldn’t reconcile who he was with who he had been, and because of that he couldn’t quite accept the continuity of events that would lead to Ace’s life not-lost, since in his mind he wasn’t far enough away from the Sabo-who-never-remembered and therefore Ace wasn’t far enough away from death and—

A potential solution coagulated in Marco’s mind. Sabo’s glare tried to warn him off again, but they didn’t accuse doctors of God Complexes for no reason, Marco guessed. It was in his training, his nurtured nature by this point to just try, dammit. Better than letting Sabo stay mired alone in the incisor-riddled hurt.

Marco got out of bed. Since everything, they’ve mostly kept to this same sleeping configuration: Ace in the middle, Marco and Sabo bracketing. It was comfortable. It was convenient. Nobody’s had any complaints.

Sabo stiffened now, as Marco left his side of the bed, circling around to the other. The intention was obvious, Marco’s motive less so. However, maybe in the interest of Ace’s continued sleep, maybe in concession to his own unsustainable upset, Sabo didn’t say a word. He didn’t shove Marco’s hands away, and even followed the gestured direction to scoot himself and Ace forward so that Marco could relocate into what had been Sabo’s position in bed. Now, Marco was spooning Sabo was spooning Ace.

Carefully, Marco reached his free hand over Sabo’s body, and took hold of Sabo’s hand, the one that was still holding onto Ace’s. He pressed his fingers to Sabo’s pulse.

Sabo stopped breathing. It was only for a few seconds, but that was enough for Ace to begin shifting in dismay. Pressed front to Sabo’s back, Marco could feel the moment Sabo forced himself to start breathing in a deceptively regular rhythm again, until Ace settled once more. Marco could trace the speeding and forced moderation of Sabo’s heartbeat throughout the entire process.

He could hear the very-real stutters in Sabo’s inhale when he accepted what Marco was trying to communicate. Marco only hoped that Sabo was hearing something close to the message’s intended meaning: you’re alive. You survived, and so has Ace.

In Marco’s grip, Sabo’s hand tightened around Ace once more. Marco thought he could almost feel Ace’s pulse conducted through Sabo. Two proofs of life, slowly syncing. From his vantage point Marco could see Sabo’s jaw directly in front of him—tension was slowly draining from the temporomandibular joint as incisors retracted from skin.

Thinking now only of Sabo’s words— it’s actually better if you’re sleeping, I swear—Marco made his own breathing ease too, closed his eyes and dropped to sleep.

(In the morning he would wake to Ace’s quietly happy grin. Sabo was startlingly between them and even more startlingly still sleeping. With a slight nod, Ace would gesture down to their hands, all of which have reconfigured in joint sleep.

(Sabo would have one hand on each of his lover’s wrists, breathing along to the pulses as he held them warmly to center mass.)

#anon #my fic #fic fill #this isn't... quite what you're looking for i think ksjnfksd but it's what came to mind #a very real fixation on making sure people you're around are still alive at any given moment oops #marcoacesabo

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