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miralines · 1 year

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as per @ladydragonkiller‘s request, and inspired by @classicallymar‘s recent post about Marius, a continuation of my rambling in the tags, on the subject of the Mechanisms, their individual manners, and their approached to charm and politeness.

This is going to be long, so here’s a cut.

Obviously the mechs are all unreservedly unhinged terrible people (with Carmilla as the sole person who tries to be less terrible). But just as their particular moral compasses or lack thereof manifest in unique ways, so too do their mannerisms, and the degree to which a bystander understands “oh god I should get out of this person’s vicinity immediately for the sake of the lives of everyone I know and love.”

As I mentioned in the tags, Marius at times comes across as more hinged than many of the others (Jonny, Nastya, Tim, Raph) because he is interested, fairly frequently, in coming across as normal, polite, and/or charming. Jonny will be sullen and moody and tell you to fuck off, and if you don’t fuck off you at least should really see the gunshot coming. Or he’ll be on a gleeful violence high (see Sleeping Beauty) and it will still be obvious that he is Like That. Marius, on the other hand, will befriend you. He will charm his way into whatever position he wants to be in for his violence, whereas Jonny just works with where he is. Marius’s manner will occasionally be... off. A little too enthusiastic, in the weird, vaguely unsettling way of Expert Testimony. Most of the time that’s because he wants to be. Occasionally he just gets overexcited. The point is Marius is both interested in and capable of Seeming Normal.

Contrast this to TS, who is extremely polite! It is very interested in acting like a human and being charming and gentlemanly. It’s just made of wood, and pings the uncanny valley instinct way too quickly to get anywhere with its manners.

Ashes is often charming as well, but their charm is a more intimidating type. They want people to listen to them, to respect them, to do what they say, not to like them. They’re charismatic enough to frequently be given positions of power, and to maintain them, but it’s much more about their capability, competence, and what you can’t actually prove they’ll do if you fail them.

Nastya has never once in her life been charming. She has never once wanted to be charming. If she expressed any modicum of interest in being charming, that’s when you would know she’d been replaced by an imposter. Nastya is a weird antisocial little vent gremlin and I love her.

Ivy cares about being accurate. She can take or leave charming. Which is good, because most often her manner is at least slightly robotic, if only due to the overly technical speech patterns.

Tim’s manner depends largely on his mood and whether his (canonically horrifying-looking) eyes are visible. He can come across as relatively normal and polite, maybe a little edgy, but well within normal mortal person ranges, especially if his eyes are not visible. Seeing his eyes tends to make people question him a little more, but that varies from “oh god an abomination” to “it’s rude to make assumptions of people based on their prosthetics, be normal, Janet.” Of course, when he gets into a mood (see this broadcast or. you know. any of the gleeful violence) that all goes out the window. Honestly, in this way I think of him as the most “normal” in his expressions. Like many mortal human people, he will try to be pleasant enough when he’s in a decent mood, but if he’s not he may get a little snappy, or grumpy, or homicidal.

Brian is fairly similar to Marius in a lot of ways, but I think that A) his baseline temperament is a lot chiller and calmer and B) his politeness/charm is also quieter. Reactions to him vary on the planet they’re on and local views towards robots, androids, automatons, and/or mostly metal humans, but assuming they’re someplace where he is assumed to be a person, not a very elaborate machine or a former corpse (although in the most technical sense, that assessment is accurate), he tends to initially come across as a nice, kind of quiet, kind of weird guy (or a prophet, when he chooses to, but that’s a role he plays sometimes more than a regular expression). Then you get into his moral advice and things start to look. Concerning. But he’s also very good at sounding reasonable in whatever justifications he comes up with for anything, so he’s usually perceived as trustworthy until things get very extreme.

Like Ivy, Raph can come across as robotic sometimes when she’s explaining something, and like Marius, it occasionally suits her to try to be charming (though much less frequently, and much less successfully). Mostly she comes across as very enthusiastic about whatever she’s interested in at the moment. She does sometimes try to leverage that into recruiting test subjects, but they often catch on that she is far more interested in the science she might do on them than them as people. Y’know how Aurora says she has a weird look in her eye? That. She comes across as quite sincere a lot of the time, but like Marius’s Expert Testimony shenanigans, it’s in an off-putting way that tends to raise red flags for people. She also sometimes forgets what’s normal and what’s not, and will casually mention some horrifying violation of scientific ethics without remembering that most people don’t like that.

I don’t have any neat way to end this but thank you for coming to my ted talk

#the mechanisms #the mechs #marius von raum #jonny d'ville #ashes o’reilly #nastya rasputina #gunpowder tim #ivy alexandria #drumbot brian #the toy soldier #raphaella la cognizi #meta #my meta #character analysis #in which it shows just how excessive the amount of time i spend thinking about these people truly is #i should copy and paste this and my morality one into a document to see how long they are

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underragingwaves · 1 year

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Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Word count: 1.5k Warnings: mention of incest, mention of past animal death/cruelty Written for: day two of the @vikingsevents Vernal Equinox event, which featured the picture prompt that I used in the above banner

He has grown accustomed to their stares. Too many moons have passed since his captivity, no matter how often Alfred says his being here is a matter of being a guest. He knows he is not, for what kind of guest can never return home? Dead, all dead. That is what he is to his own people now – dead again, left to rot in a distant land – for that is what Alfred has told them. He knows these things, even when they are spoken in a language he still does not fully grasp and some conversations always fall silent when he enters a room.

They have rather taking to staring instead of speaking. Hvitserk likes to stare back most days. It’s easy to speak to them without words, to have his expressions be something even they will be able to understand. They are children still – yes, children, he had hissed at Alfred not even one moon ago, finally too irate to keep his peace, talking of war this way and speaking of power that way – and Hvitserk knows speaking to children is not always a thing of words. So it goes as it has always gone, with the whole of Alfred’s Witan tracking his every move with their eyes.

It’s enough to send a man into madness.

“Was I not clear?” he asks, now, half-turning to Alfred only to find that the man looks as befuddled as the rest of them. Hvitserk’s brow furrows. “I know I used the right words for eggs and birds. You eat such things, so I know them well.”

“It is not about the words themselves,” says Alfred, sounding rather as if he is weighing all his options mid-response, “but rather the explanation you gave. How does a nesting bird explain anything about our army’s progress?”

Hvitserk pinches the bridge of his nose before he can stop himself from doing so. He knows his exhale sounds like the pent-up frustration of a captive horse at the very least, but at this point he does not believe the Witan would cage him further for it. I am surrounded by idiots, he thinks, rather wildly, before scoffing out a derisive laugh that would have put Ivar’s worst cynical chuckle to shame.

“The nest contains blue eggs,” he repeats again, slowing his speech this time, “and the material used in the nest is what you use in your fires. The cut of the sheafs is like so”– he demonstrates by making a cutting motion in mid-air for emphasis –“and the bird itself has been flying to and fro the same direction for this entire day. Carrying berries, or something close to it.” He sighs as he is met with incomprehension once more. Decides to explain further, as if they are no better than Björn’s children. “The bird is friendly to humans, accustomed to us to the point where it would eat out of my hand if given time and reason to. Its flight pattern tells me where it gets its food. These woods? Not good for berries, no. But a traveling army? That might have berries. This type of bird”– unlike the lot of you, he almost snipes –“is not a total fool. It nests where safety and food are, and yet the nearest town is more than a day’s flight removed from here. So where is it getting its food, hm?”

“You got all of that,” barks Ealdorman Wulfhere, gruff-voiced and bristling to the point where his impressive beard trembles along with it, “from climbing a tree?”

What, like it is hard? “Of course,” responds Hvitserk, smoothing over his voice until it is void of the retort he’d like to have given. “It is important to know. You are attempting to track and pin down a rogue army, are you not?” He looks around expectantly, to younger and older ealdormen alike, but only receives a few sparse nods in return. “Nature has your answers, if you know where to look. This particular army is just beyond those two hills there”– he nods, indicating the spot beyond the treeline and open plain –“and I know it is that place because of the bird and because it is where I would set a camp myself. They will have men positioned on those hills, so I would thank you kindly not to move closer to it!”

“They cannot see us from this far off,” argues one of the younger ealdormen. Odda, is it Odda? Hvitserk can hardly tell which of the sneering dark-haired children it is, though the haughty tone of voice sounds like either Odda or Wulfric who’d gotten upset when he’d beaten them both at once in a courtyard mock-fight. Still, the boy elects to sneer at him some more. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“They cannot see me,” grins Hvitserk back, “but you? My dear boy”– he laughs now, void of humor and all amusement, meaning nothing of the sentiment –“the sun would strike that shiny armor of yours and paint a target on you before you good and well left the treeline. Most of you would signal your presence in such a way,” he sneers in turn, nodding at all the armor that surrounds him, “and if you went under cover of dark they would hear. Strip yourselves of this idiocy and perhaps you can surprise them still, hm?”

Albert starts, furious. “You should have said–”

“I did!” snaps Hvitserk. “Twice I warned you, twice I cautioned you!” He holds up two fingers, feeling the thrum of being right settle in his belly the way it always does when Alfred dares argue with him about such things. “What was it you said? That you would not resemble some heathen army come to steal?” He sneers again at the memory, which had featured more of Alfred’s inane derision for Hvitserk’s former way of life than he ever cared to hear. “You’re all children, blundering away in the woodland so loudly that I am of half a mind to put an arrow to your throats myself. You stand here not knowing the first thing of tracking prey or foe and yet you dare defy what I caution you?”

“Athelstan…”

Again that loathsome name, shared with the man who’d changed his father and made him a stranger. “You wanted me here,” he says, swallowing I am Hvitserk, Hvitserk is my name back down until he thinks he is about to cry, “and yet you disregard all I tell you. You are keeping me here, heathen turned Christian”– with her permission, with Iðunn’s grace –“wishing my advice and yet taking none. Your whole Witan stares at me as if they cannot decide whether I am an ally or a rabid dog that needs to be taken to the blade.”

“That is no way to speak to your King!” thunders Ealdorman Wulfhere, hand flying to the hilt of his sword. “Such insolence!”

Alfred holds up a hand before any blade is drawn. “His brother spoke to me the same,” says the young King now, mouth quirking upward in a fleeting semblance of a smile. “So often he called me stupid, or something near to it, for not seeing patterns in nature like he did. For not seeing who was friend or foe to me, though their behaviors and words dictated it aloud.” A careful nod, slow, is all Hvitserk will receive of Alfred’s acquiescence. “I hear Ubbe in every word you speak, Athelstan.”

“He taught me,” says Hvitserk, feeling as though all the fight leaves his lungs at hearing his brother’s name spoken into the silence that has fallen over the clearing. “He is the better tracker of us, even finding men who do not wish to be found, but I know how to survive.” He tilts his chin up, daring Alfred’s Witan to argue with such a thing when none of them could strike him during battle. “That bird’s nest is the only caution you will receive. Ignore it at your peril.”

He speaks no more then, though the Witan’s members have plenty to say. Hvitserk leaves them to such matters, sinking down and resting his back against the tree he climbed not long ago instead. I hear Ubbe in every word, echoes Alfred’s voice in his head until Hvitserk’s stomach coils and loops in ways it has not done since his last days in Kattegat.

Ubbe had found him beneath a tree like this once, weeping over a ruined nest, while Hvitserk was cradling that small red-chested bird in his own hands. His tears had dripped onto its feathers, making its wrung neck stand out even starker. There had been eggs then, too, but none that could be saved. Even now, he remembers Ubbe’s soft sigh and his brother’s strong arms wrapping around his shoulders. Recalls hating Ivar, even then, for getting to this fallen nest first and enacting his own twisted mercies on the helpless.

It was a swift death, he hears, as if from a distant dream, but it is all right to weep over such a thing. The ghost of his brother’s hand is still on his hair, just like he can still feel Ubbe’s lips moving against his own lips the moment his head tilts up to gaze at the tree’s branches. The kiss had been a comfort, then, still void of the hunger with which they would kiss one another that same night, and if Hvitserk closes his eyes long enough now he will be able to feel his brother there beside him again.

Hvitserk keeps his eyes open until they burn.

#vikings #vernalvikings #hvitserk #alfred #urwfic

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sacrificecage · 1 year

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for the ask game may I offer magowhore

you may offer mangowhore!

sexuality + gender: transmasc and gay

otp: magochilly!! though i will not lie, im not particular about my mago ships. almost anything goes, in my eyes

brotp: i like mags and susie! the two of them love tech, love the ancients, fuck over others for fun, need therapy, and have cool robots for family!

notp: ...probably magoranza, to be honest. i just cannot do it! no problem with the ship, it's just absolutely not my cup of tea. its cute enough, but... eh

first hc: those protrusions? theyre ears! sort of. the official name is mahosorana, or magic taster, and they sense ambient magic. theyre magic ears :3

for a more mago-centric hc, he has a poor sense of empathy, and needs to imagine something happening to himself to feel bad about it

favourite line: uhhh cant get the list up right now because im at work but the one thats like "Anyway... MUAHAHAHAHA!!" because I personally adore changing expressions on a dime and i very well would accidentally digress on my own villain monologue

how i relate to the character: hm... a lot. my interest in ancient history is probably the easiest to explain without needing to get my mental health talks out of the back. also his speech patterns and physical actions! i also hold my hands in front of my face when i laugh, and i just hold my hands in a very similar way in general

secondhand embarrassments: trying to imagine him attempting to apologise to everyone. it makes my skin crawl itd be sooo awkward. turn out well, yes, but ughhhh

and he is, absolutely, neither a cinnamon roll nor a problematic fav. hes a fucker (affectionate)

#saturn's assembly #ask game #kirby

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ghostietea · 3 years

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Furuba autistic headcanons

With it being April, or autism acceptance month, I wanted to finally drop my list of characters from Fruits Basket that I read as autistic! This is based a lot on my own experience, as well as that of other autistics I know or have seen talk online. I hope some people can get something out of it, feel free to tell me what you think 😊, though please refrain from getting upset that I would dare suggest your fave is autistic.

Hanajima

Before becoming able to better control her powers, she would be constantly overwhelmed by the things she heard to the point that she couldn't even really go out in public. This reads a lot like sensory overload.

Constantly picked on in school because other kids thought she was weird. Eventually reclaimed this weirdness and turned it into a whole persona.

Seems to talk usually in a relatively flat tone.

Had trouble socializing with no friends outside her family until middleschool.

Has a very funny, dry sense of humor that I find very similar to a bunch of autistics I know, including myself.

Hatsuharu

Listen. You have seen the funky little man, you have seen the way he talks, the way he acts around others. He is, and I mean this in the best way, a weirdo. I do not know how you could look at him and see a neurotypical.

Once again, like Hana, Haru is funny in a way that feels very autistic.

Very flat, dry, tone delivery. Sometimes just Says Things that make everyone else go huh??? Suuuuper blunt. Doesn't emote facially a lot of the time.

When this man sees a social norm he doesn't get he WILL NOT follow it. Pierces his ears just because his hair got flak, defends Momiji wearing whatever he wants because sometimes y'know the social rules are just dumb and don't make sense. Especially dress codes.

Sometimes says things not befitting the current tone of the situation.

Represses (masks) a lot of his emotions, leading to outbursts that seem uncharacteristic.

His main childhood trauma revolves around adults branding him as "dumb" and ridiculing him. Haru, however, is super smart and wise!! Just in an offbeat way that not everyone may get.

Machi

Reads as very "flat" emotionally to the point that others would call her boring. Also has a flat vocal delivery.

Relies on specific habits or ways of doing things or else she gets super upset (her hatred of imperfection.

Has trauma surrounding adults completely misconstruing her intentions and thinking she's doing something malicious when she's not.

Generally behaves in a way that's hard for others to understand, one of her formative moments with Yuki was him saying he wanted to "see how the world looks" through her eyes.

Once again, trouble socializing.

Tries super hard to please her parents but in the end they still see her as somehow inherently "defective."

Listen. A lot of this one and the last two are mostly vibes, hard to verbally define. You just have to look at them and trust me.

Tohru

Displays behavior very reminiscent of masking throughout the story, a huge part of her arc is about how she hides a lot of herself and has a very controlled persona. I think it would fit very well if she had other autistic behaviors that she suppresed also it helps explain why she is relatively socially adept, it's learned behavior to make people like her more.

Yes she is very good at saying what others need to hear, but especially early on she is pretty blatantly imitating her mother's words. She only gets better at getting through on a more personal level later on (see her with Rin and Akito v. early series Tohru). She does this by relating her own experiences, a very autistic way of showing empathy that often gets us written off as self centered. The way she relays things her mom said could also be seen as this, and she even worries at a few points that she's being insensitive for going on about things like that.

While emotionally repressed she is hyper empathetic and feels other's emotions so strongly she cries.

Her speech patterns are all imitated from her father and she often copies verbal things from others (see Ritchan-san). Noted in canon that people think her way of speaking is slightly off/not befitting of someone her age. Additionally, her father was polite more sarcastically, while she plays it straight and sometimes takes things very literally or fails to get the message, indicating trouble with reading tone. Has numerous strange verbal tics, including saying parts of her internal monologue out loud without context.

Very expressive with her hands including waving them around and flapping them up and down.

Does have a bit of trouble with accidental insensitivity in social interactions, like how she constantly fixates on her mom and realizes that might bug the Sohma.

Has trouble paying attention in school since it doesn't have much to do with her interests

Her only friend until she was a middle schooler was her mom

Has a pretty unique outlook on things compared to others, people seem to think she's pretty eccentric. There's always a "this girl is nice but in an odd way, she's our weirdo and we love her" vibe.

Sometimes has an "inappropriate" emotional response to situations

Has a lot of trouble with change, similar to Akito. Which oh, look at the time, next hc coming up.

But first, a disclaimer. It is cathartic for me to read Akito this way, but with that reading comes the baggage that she would, mayhaps, be showing a more negative side of things... It doesn't bother me since it's a joint hc with other characters and she does develop at the end but yeah, general villain hc baggage. This is in no way me trying to excuse her being The Worst being autistic doesn't absolve you of being able to do wrong . Also, a lot of these points can and do have other explanations related to her upbringing, but things can be for more than 1 reason. With that said, she really strongly comes off as autistic to me, in a way that's sorta hard to explain. I wrote a lot more for her than the other, both because I felt I needed more to convince people and that this headcanon was more sensitive and I needed to be careful in my explanation. Also hey! She's my special interest within a special interest.

Akito

Shown to have a dislike of summer weather due to heat and brightness, could be due to sensory issues in tandem with sickness things. Also covers her ears when people raise their voice sometimes which is partially her trying to shut down opposition but also 🤔 can read a different way. She'd also avoids louder Juuni like Ritsu and Ayame because she can't handle them.

Wears pretty much the same outfit every single day. Said outfit is also pretty loose fitting.

Always seen sitting in a pretty unconventional way. Evidence:

Of course this is also the isolated in a cult thing and there is a level of her purposefully doing things to intimidate but: doesn't follow a lot of social rules (overly touchy with strangers, legit doesn't get that what she's doing is wrong, ect.). Repeatedly confused when people indicate she should act otherwise without explanation. Has a breakdown when this comes to a head and approximately says that "they" shouldn't expect her to know "common sense" if "they" never explained it to her, that the way that she was was her "common sense."

Often talks in a way uncharacteristic of her age when shown as a child in a more faux mature/pretentious way. Might just be the translation and idk how to explain it but her speech as an adult also seems off from what one would normally use in conversation. Additionally, when she tries to fake being friendly in her intro chapter, it comes of as extremely stiff and unconvincing.

Generally displays behavior that could be thought of as childish as an adult, but a lot of this behavior could also read as autistic (covering ears, emotional deregulation and meltdowns, ignorance of basic social norms, ect.). It's also important to note that she knows that this behavior makes her seem younger and more helpless to the older zodiac and uses it as a manipulation tactic. Has issues regarding people treating her like a child or only hanging out with her because of pity. While she does weaponize it, we can tell that this grates on her, as seen with her finally blowing up on Kureno, which is partially triggered by the maids saying some sorta infantalizing stuff about her. Irl, a lot of autistic adults and teens struggle with being infantalized for our behavior generally or treated as little babies that can do no wrong. Even in fandom, you see people doing stuff like jumping to call autistic adult characters, such as Entrapta from Shera, "minor coded." It is also common for us to have at least one bad experience with someone hanging around us out of pity. This is something that really gave me a similar feeling in Akito's arc. She's not a baby and she can understand and do better if she is given the chance to learn and break from all the freaky cult indoctrination she's been subjected to instead of just being constantly enabled. In the end, a lot of her growth is represented by her showing that she is capable of changing and being independent.

Shows particular difficulty with socialization, often sits by herself spacing out at social events. A lot of her fear is rooted in the fact that she doesn't know how normal relationships work, becoming overly reliant on the curse because she doesn't know how to make friends.

Clings desperately onto the notion of being "special" and in some way superior to others to be worthy and to make up for perceived inherent "flaws." It's the nd gifted kid burnout vibes for me.

Easily bothered by things that don't bother others. Feels emotions very strongly to the point of getting physically ill and has bad emotional regulation.

Relatively good at reading others in an analytical sense (though has more trouble when it comes to seeing how they feel about her since she's wildly delusional) but brings up her observations in a very cold, detached way and hurts people even on the rare occasion she didn't mean to. Has extreme trouble connecting to others and understanding their point of view. This makes her come off as pretty unempathetic even though that might not fully be the case. Also thinks that people like Momiji are trying to look down on her when they try to empathize with her. A lot of why Tohru can get through to her is that she manages to convince Akito that she's not condescending by relating shared traits and experiences. As I said earlier, autistics often empathize by sharing their own experiences with someone, and I know I often have an easier time confiding in other autistics because of a fear of being seen as lesser by those that don't understand me. I think the connection between these charachters and the way that Tohru manages to reach Akito like that while others couldn't makes a lot of sense through an autistic lense!

Additionally, when Akito herself gets around to trying to help others instead of just projecting trauma, she tries to reach out to the old maid by relating back to her own experiences. This however, doesn't work.

Has "cold" emotional reactions sometimes even to things that do make her upset. For example, how sort of calm and detached she acted after her father's death can make her seem uncaring. However, we know that this event did mess her up a lot and she is still (poorly) dealing with a lot of grief from the death of her father years later.

Copies mannerisms from others, the most blatant example is with Ren, who she directly parrots lines from as a child to Yuki.

Partly just her posturing, but gestures a lot with her hands when she talks. Also seen several times clutching her hands in her hair.

Deals extremely poorly with the idea of things changing to the point that it is a driving force of the story.

Does not understand when people tease her.

Ect. Ect. Ect. Listen, I could go on for ages but just trust me, the mean gremlin lady is autistic.

#fruits basket #akito sohma #tohru honda #saki hanajima #machi kuragi #hatsuharu sohma #actually autistic #meta

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hunxi-guilai · 4 years

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god please tell us more about who you think Lan Wangji is! How does 16years change him? Is he marble on purpose or is it nature? Will he thaw fully ever do you think?

man oh man oh man... where to begin with my thoughts on Lan Wangji...

so I’ve talked about his speech patterns, speculated on his childhood competitiveness, gone way too deep on his microexpressions, watched him lose the love of his life more times than I can count; I’ve translated his thinly-veiled love letters, his roasts, his flirtations dialogue. I’ve lost count of how much ink I’ve spilled over Lan Wangji, online in meta and offline in fic, but there’s something about him that keeps making me think more, and more, about how incredible of a person/character he really is

he is also the character that I find most terrifying, but more on that later

let me start off by talking about a trope that, nine times out of ten, I detest: the Ice Queen. Most of the time, I hate it because I often see it as the result of a male author who just doesn’t know how to write women, and the deployment of the Ice Queen trope becomes this cheap way to maintain the allure and unattainability of the love interest until your scrappy protagonist manages to thaw her heart through a combination of questionable charm and inability to take no for an answer, and it turns out in the end that all she truly wanted was a man to break down all of her defenses and heal her past trauma with his supremely average protagonist powers... et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

But sometimes, I come around to really loving a particular rendition of the Ice Queen archetype, and it’s usually when the show doesn’t treat the character’s Ice Queen-qualities as something that has to be overcome with the Power of Lurv. Rather, this character is an Ice Queen because it’s just who they are, and that’s just fine. Their frostiness and aloofness are worthy parts of their personality that doesn’t need to be thawed out or changed just to fulfill a particular expectation or fantasy.

One of my favorite things about watching a friend go through the whole CQL Experience (TM) is their changing views on Wang Yibo’s portrayal of Lan Wangji -- I think most, if not all, of us start out at “okay deadpan, do you actually know how to emote?” and then twenty-eight episodes later go “oh my god it’s the wide-eyed microexpression of concern, please help I am a puddle of emotions on the floor.” Crucially, what changes isn’t necessarily Wang Yibo’s performance, or Lan Wangji’s expressiveness -- it’s how we all come to learn this character, to pick up on his tics and habits and microexpressions.

In short, we come to know him, and we realize that the Ice Queen is very much an archetype that resides in the perception of said character. Sometimes, we’re fortunate enough to reside in a narrative that supports the understanding that the work of Defrosting an Ice Queen isn’t work that the Ice Queen themselves should have to do -- a character doesn’t have to change themselves to fit whatever mold popular opinion thinks they should. Lan Wangji doesn’t need to be rehabilitated or socialized in any way to fit societal expectations. He’s just fine the way he is, thank you very much.

But damn if that isn’t so desperately, heart-numbingly lonely.

Is it any wonder, how swiftly and deeply Lan Wangji falls in love with Wei Wuxian, if Wei Wuxian is the first person in years to actually try and learn the language of Lan Wangji? Because no matter how cold and perfect and invulnerable he may seem, he’s still a living, breathing human being -- one that fears, one that loves, one that hurts, one that wants. But the world doesn’t see that -- the world sees only Hanguang-jun, the bearer of light, the vanquisher of chaos, war hero, living legend. He’s unapproachable, unattainable, untouchable. And even before the Sunshot Campaign, he’s one of the Twin Jades of Gusu Lan, an unforgiving hand of discipline, a cold look and a silent demeanour. Others have always seen him as so high and aloof that they’ve never actually tried to reach out to him, never actually tried to get through and speak to the person behind the reputation.

Lan Wangji makes his peace with that before the story even begins, accepts a life of quiet isolation and meditation and cultivation. He works on perfecting himself, lays the foundation for all of those skills that the world will praise him for in the future, and does not hope that he will meet someone who understands him. He has his brother, and that is enough.

Until Wei Wuxian comes crashing headlong through the neatly-ordered patterns of Lan Wangji’s world, tangles the linearity of cause and effect, frustrates the binary of forbidden and permitted, until Lan Wangji isn’t sure which way is which anymore, what is wrong, what is right, what is black, what is white...

I have written so damn much about wangxian, and how this relationship affects Lan Wangji, but I also think a lot about Lan Wangji in the absence of Wei Wuxian -- Lan Wangji before he ever met Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji during those sixteen years, Lan Wangji who looks at soulmate he fought so hard to protect and still says I’m going that way, a different direction from one of the only people in the world who have ever listened closely enough to hear the melody of his heart. I’ve written about the principle of 问心无愧 wenxinwukui, of asking one’s heart and finding no regret, and it’s something that drives Lan Wangji just as much as it drives Wei Wuxian -- even more so, sometimes. From the moment Wei Wuxian meets Lan Wangji, he seems a man made of marble, made of ice, made of light -- other-worldly, ethereal, unstained by the dust of this mortal realm. Even at sixteen, Lan Wangji walks through the world with a surety of step and a confidence of motion that is absolutely astounding and profoundly enviable. He makes decisions with an incisive swiftness that baffles the rest of us who have to pause, to take a few minutes and think, weigh options, ask for advice, then decide.

Not so with Lan Wangji -- if he wants to do something, he will. If he doesn’t, he won’t. If Lan Wangji listens to you and judges you boring, he’ll let you know. If Lan Wangji decides that something isn’t worth his time, he walks out.

If he decides that you are worth fighting for, then he will follow you down a single-plank bridge into the dark and fight the world for you.

I played myself, because I made an offhand comment in the tags on this lovely piece of art that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about:

how did you already know the melody of your heart at sixteen, Lan Wangji? How did you know?

What is it like, to have such a powerful, unshakeable conviction in the righteousness of your actions that you’ll carve it into your own body, you’ll willingly accept the heaviest punishment in the memory of your sect, that the only regret you’ll have is that you didn’t make the same decision earlier? What is it like to have a faith so strong that you’ll burn all of your bridges on the steps of a place far away from your home, before a gathered crowd of everyone you’ve ever known? What is it like to know yourself so well and to be fearless enough to do what your heart tells you to, and damn the consequences?

This is what fascinates me and terrifies me the most about Lan Wangji -- his sureness of movement, the solidity of his faith. Lan Wangji is that Peggy Carter quote, the tree who will not move, the river-sunken stone, so set and solid where it has come to rest that all the force of a spring snowmelt has no choice but to part around its will.

This isn’t to say that Lan Wangji doesn’t have doubts, that he doesn’t deal with conflict and setbacks and regrets and mistakes, because he does -- thirteen or sixteen years of it, no matter what version of his story, Lan Wangji endures over a decade of purgatory, of watching his life slip slowly back into grayscale in the absence of Wei Wuxian. He settles back into the life that he knew he would live at sixteen -- cultivating, meditating, night-hunting -- packs away all of those terrifying hopes and dreams and joys and fears left behind in the wreckage from the whirlwind of Wei Wuxian tearing through his life. He doesn’t move on, per se -- if there’s one thing we know about Lan Wangji, it’s that he’ll never move on from Wei Wuxian -- but he builds a life out of the ruins of what could have been. He teaches the juniors. He watches over A-Yuan, now Lan Yuan, now Sizhui. He brings light to dark places; he brings order to chaos. He goes where he is needed, because there will always be a need for someone like Lan Wangji, because even if Wei Wuxian is no longer in this world, Lan Wangji will live their principles for both of them, fulfill a vow entrusted to a floating lantern --

to eliminate the wicked and aid the weak,

to ask one’s heart and find no regret.

#listen I really really love Lan Wangji #this is maybe like a quarter of the thoughts I have on him #the other three quarters are refusing to be articulated in words #but trust me when I say that the more I think about him the more I realize how good he is #I feel like we often talk about Wei Wuxian outside the context of wangxian but it happens a little less with Lan Wangji #and I am all for discussing characters and their complexity outside the lens of their romantic relationships #tonight words are hard so I'm going to leave this here #ask and ye shall receive #Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian

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takuyakistall · 3 years

Text

I recently re-read his Dorm SSR personal story here! A few questions and thoughts lingered inside my head as I read it and it collectively got worse when @poisonepel started questioning things too. Which ultimately led to me writing this down while running on half a brain cell and a spoonful of rice for lunch. This isn’t necessarily an analysis but more of just me questioning a lot of stuff. I already pointed out things that are already obvious so it might get repetitive. Placed under the cut since it’s a bit lengthy! I tried my best to be coherent in the very least.

Rook’s Nickname for Jade - Rook calls Jade “Monsieur Mastermind” and perhaps you’re already telling me right now that I shouldn’t look deeper into this since it doesn’t look like it matters anyway but let me tell you right now that I tend to overanalyze things when it comes to Jade. I find it a bit odd how Rook calls Jade the mastermind, presuming that we’re talking about the Octavinelle trio, when it’s often Azul that’s shown to be as such. Of course, it’s been revealed that Rook analyzes or stalks nearly everything that happens to catch his interest (Jade’s Gym Personal). So it’s safe to presume that his judgement is, if not entirely correct, accurate. “Your staple food, your habits, your walking speed, when you sleep, your heart rate, how many times you blink… those and many others I have recorded perfectly.” Just by reading this line alone I became pretty sure that he observed something deeper than that--which is his personality.

The question is, why is Jade the mastermind instead of Azul? Why is Azul’s nickname “Roi du Fort” instead of being the mastermind? Well, it might be common knowledge but Jade, in a way, controls Azul despite what it looks like to the public which is Azul controlling Jade since he, as the higher authority, has power over him. I read a popular post explaining why Jade probably undertakes the role of a servant rather than taking the position for himself knowing that he has the full capabilities to do so. This will be explained further later in a different note.

What I’m trying to imply is that behind the scenes, Azul isn’t really the mastermind behind everything despite what it seems. It’s Jade who’s really in control of things, by picking up the act of a servant or butler.

“If the entire hierarchy collapses just due to the absence of a single person, then that proves that they aren’t all as great as they seem.” - I just had the need to point this particular line out since it just seemed so… Jade. Everything about this line just screams out the same vibes he radiates, cold and severe. I know he’s faking the whole thing about having a falling out with Azul and wanting to join Pomefiore but I think it is true that without him, Octavinelle won’t nearly be as great from when he was still there.

First of all, He’s Octavinelle’s vice-dorm leader. Surely, being in such a high position, he carries a lot of duties that only he can do as the acting vice leader. There’s also the fact that he does it superbly than other people which is why Octavinelle is the way it is right now, it would be hard to replace him. They would have to look for someone who’s on par with Jade, in the very least.

Secondly, he’s somewhat an emotional pillar to Azul. Judging from their childhood and current relationship as of now, I like to think that a big reason why Azul is the way he is right now, is because of Jade and Floyd acting as his emotional support or whatever even though they insist that their relationship is purely just for business and will drop it if it’s no longer beneficiary to them. The main reason why I think that way is because of the Octavinelle CM which has a scene of Azul holding a bubble in between his hands. Inside the bubble were the twins in their eel forms. The next thing that happened--the bubble popped and disappeared, along with the tweels inside it. We could see the horror on Azul’s face when it happened in that scene and slowly led to the overblot scene which says a lot about how Azul views the twins. Have a more detailed explanation regarding their relationship here! Summary, Azul will lose his shit if Jade were to disappear. Now, where is Octavinelle in all of this? Probably a mess in the corner right there with their dorm leader not in his right state of mind. In short, Octavinelle will probably crumble under the absence of Jade. The reason why Octavinelle is still functioning under Azul’s command during this whole stunt Jade is making is precisely because Azul knew that it was all an act.

"Jade’s excellence in everything he does is renowned even among the Dorm Leaders. He might be a super secretary or something to be able to answer Azul's difficult requests." - Vil's words to Rook during their little talk about letting Jade into Pomefiore. This stuck out to me because back then I didn't really give this much thought but now that I'm re-reading this, it makes me wonder how good is Jade at his job as a Vice Dorm Leader? These words coming from Vil hold a certain weight I can't describe, for him to say that his excellence is renowned even among the Dorm Leaders and to be described as a Super Secretary.

For Jade to have earned this kind of reputation despite being in the land for only two years so far is quite a feat! I would've expected less from someone else but this is Jade we're talking about so, ignoring his terrible weakness in flying, I can assume that Jade worked hard for him to have reached this kind of performance level in such a short time. To be recognized by almost all of the Dorm Leaders isn't an easy feat.

Jade as an attendant - During his first day as Vil's attendant, Vil mentioned how off-putting he is from the fact that Jade was almost too good for someone on their first day. "You managed to get on such friendly terms with the stuffy and straight-laced people of the industry in such little time; and you were also perfect when it came to helping out with the shooting. You've worked much harder than I thought you would." His words. I think this is due to the nature of Jade's silver tongue, which is being able to speak in a way that makes other people do or believe what you want them to do or believe. It seems very fitting for a character like Jade.

Because of the recent personals that got released for Jade, namely the Birthday SSR, they talked about family there and it got me thinking quite a bit as to how Jade can speak so eloquently especially now that I've read that he managed to get on the good side of people who are probably way older than he is and straight-laced, no less. He vaguely mentioned their family background when he was telling a story from his childhood and said how different people would come over to their party and offer them presents. I'm assuming that these people are possibly older than he is, judging from the fact that one of them attempted to give the twins liquor despite them being at a young age, and I thought that maybe Jade grew up used to being surrounded by adults to the point where he picks up a lot of speech patterns and habits. Which inevitably leads to what he is right now. Nothing is confirmed yet, this is a mere thought I had.

Jade's past with Azul - It's briefly mentioned here in the story. Jade mentioned how there weren't as many mer-folk as there are humans so they were all basically put in the same class together during elementary school. Azul didn't catch his interest back then, it seems. He mentioned not being able to remember the very reason why the three of them—Jade, Floyd, and Azul—ended up together currently in Night Raven College.

I am genuinely curious as to what actually made the twins interested in someone like Azul. Correct me if I'm wrong but they did mention it in Chapter 3, right? Was it the growing interest when they finally took notice of Azul using his unique magic on basically everyone who fell into his trap? Someone tell me the details if it was ever mentioned, my memory is failing me.

“Tenebres” - The shoe brand Vil wanted to get his hands on but unfortunately did not obtain, particularly, the Mirror Shoe. "Tenebres" apparently only sells their products to people who they deem worthy for designs, even the designer themselves has yet to make a public appearance as they are shrouded in mystery. Vil didn't have enough time to acquire it but, surprise! Jade Leech has somehow managed to get his perfect hands on the pair of red shoes Vil wanted so much. Frankly enough, Vil was impressed he managed to obtain something he could not—alone, no less.

This is just me pondering but this particular line made me wonder, "Heh, they did some at the cost of a bit of trouble. No matter, how about you try these on instead of dwelling on the matter?", to what lengths did he actually have to go through to obtain just a pair of shoes? Or rather, what connections does he have to be able to obtain this so easily and brush it off with a mere, "cost of a bit of trouble" when clearly Vil already expressed the difficulty in obtaining these?

Another note I have to make but not completely sure if it's relevant is his family. As I've said before, they mentioned that they deal with a lot of people due to the nature of their business and that made me wonder if the designer/owner of this certain shoe brand is one of them? Perhaps Jade was able to easily contact them because of connections his family has although Floyd's wish in the event Stars & Wishes contradicts this possibility.

In Floyd's wish, he mentioned wanting a pair of shoes and Idia immediately asked him why he couldn't just buy them. Floyd answered with a simple, "I can't usually get them." Because of the price. Which, again, contradicts my theory about the Leech family being connected to the shoe brand. Although! Vil did mention how the shoe brand only sells it to people they deem worthy. Perhaps, Floyd isn't…? No—it still wouldn't explain how easily Jade got the shoes and had the brand get Vil a job there as an ambassador. Surely, that isn't due to just any normal connections anymore. Definitely shady, I want to know more.

Jade is in control - As I've said earlier, Jade is somewhat in control despite playing the role of a servant. Prime example is when Vil told him his throat was parched, Jade immediately acted upon it fully knowing what his original intentions were. He gave Vil a drink that the Mostro Lounge was apparently serving without having Vil question it further and even went as far as to let Jade take a picture and post it—even he decided the caption for the post! With a simple flow of events just like that, Jade has managed to manipulate Vil without him knowing. He did it all while taking in the role of a servant and that in itself says a lot about how he does things

I think it's worth it to take note of the fact that Jade does not like bringing attention to himself and merely brushes it off as mere shyness of some sorts when really, all he wants to do is lay low and draw as little attention to himself. It makes his job easier that way—perhaps that's the reason why he lets Azul take the spotlight all the damn time.

Another thing to take note of is something I saw from a post in Tumblr which basically sums up the whole reason why Jade is always adopting the butler persona wherever he goes. It's because he likes to be in control that way—you'd let down your guard around him and let him serve you. You want a drink? He'll serve you a drink but-! He is in control over what you will get. That's exactly what happened in this exact scene, Vil waltzed right into the center of Jade's palms.

Vil never noticed - I'm not saying Vil is dumb, because he is most definitely not. Although through the very end, I don't know if it's just because Vil got carried away with the feeling of achievement taking over him due to recent events but he did just brush away the reason why Jade was in Pomefiore in the first place and let him go away peacefully, "So long as he doesn't bare his fangs at us." In other words, Jade managed to outsmart Vil and possibly, Rook.

This is probably one of the reasons why I am confident enough to say that Jade truly is one of the most cunning bitches in the entire game because this whole ordeal just pretty much proved it.

Aftermath - There we go! We got an explanation about how Jade managed to manipulate and use Vil for his own gains err, in this context, probably Azul's. When Jade took a picture of Vil with the drink and posted it, he did it with the intention of taking advantage of Vil's popularity and viewer reach. Jade expressed his thankfulness when he mentioned how Vil saw him as "useful" perhaps his reputation prior helped him reach his goal?

Azul praised Jade with something along the lines of "As expected of you, Jade. You're the best Night Raven's College has to offer when it comes to sneaking into another's pockets after all." Which really just backs up some of the statements I made earlier about how Jade manipulates people by letting people let their guard down around him while thinking they're the ones who have power over Jade when clearly it's not as simple as it seems. Azul mentioning that only Jade could pull off something like this just puts me off for some reason but I'll leave it be for the time being.

After that, Jade and Azul had a conversation that started with Azul asking him if he had any difficulties during his stay in Pomefiore and if he had any troubles keeping up with Vil. Jade, jokingly(?), responded that it was nothing compared to Azul's demands and orders and his time at Pomefiore was actually a vacation of some sorts for him. Which really makes me wonder what jobs does Azul usually give him if this one was somewhat of a break for Jade? A task that seemed impossible to Floyd, Jade said it was a vacation. It's a bit frightening but I guess that's his charm? Hard-working is one way to put it.

That's the end of my Dorm SSR mini-analysis, I guess! Thank you for sticking with me till the end even though a lot of these might be repetitive. I'll probably add more depending on future brainrot but for now, this is fine. Feel free to tell me what you think about this!

#twst #twisted wonderland #jade #twst jade #jade leech #twisted wonderland jade #vil schoenheight #i mean #he appears in the story #twst theory #not really a theory but eh. . ..

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sternbilder · 3 years

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Hi!! Stumbled on your blog via the buried stars tag and I'd like to say thank you so much for the kr>eng translations! There aren't many english-speaking fans so I was happy to read about the game & its characters. I was wondering, what do all the characters call each other in Korean? Or what honorifics they use? I could hear it in the audio sometimes (Gyu-hyuk: "Do-yoon-ah", or I think Seil: "Inha-ssi" ?) but I didn't catch all of them. Google tells me some of it is based off of (1/2)

(2/2) Google tells me some of it is based off of respect, friendship/closeness, or just being older/younger than one another, but I'm still new to the intricacies of what it implies about the characters' relationships and how their individual personalities are. If it isn't too much trouble, I'd love to know ^^

Hello!! You're very welcome and in fact thank you for the question, I'm always receptive to more excuses to talk about this game!

It seems like you already have some context on rules surrounding Korean honorifics. There is a lot of nuance, obviously, but to put it simply...Yes, I'd say the speech patterns the cast (particularly, the TOP5—the others are a bit more complicated) uses are what you'd see in a casual social setting between people who already know each other somewhat, but aren't necessarily friends, which is what I think I would expect from a group of twentysomethings who probably had a chance to bond socially as a cohort throughout the whole audition process (it's explained in the Q&A that they lived together in a dorm for most of the show, too). And as you've pointed out the rules there I would say are much more tied to age and closeness. I'd generally characterize their speech patterns as informal, but polite—basically, you have to use the polite form with people who are older than you, but you can use casual speech (banmal) with people who are the same age or younger. The exception is if you are close enough with someone that you mutually decide it's OK to drop honorifics despite the age difference. More on that later.

The order of the age of each of the main cast are as follows: Seungyeon (33), Juyoung (28), Gyuhyuk (27), Doyoon and Inha (25), Seil (24), and Hyesung (20). So with no other caveats we'd expect, for example, Doyoon to use polite form with Juyoung and Gyuhyuk but not with Inha and Hyesung, etc. Now, with that as the basis, here are some notes based on what I can remember, though disclaimer that my memory isn't perfect, and there are also things I might have missed because I haven't done a full playthrough yet with Korean text.

(Character spoilers for the "Other" section at the end; otherwise a few minor spoilers)

TOP5

Juyoung (28)

Juyoung is the oldest of the main cast, so she uses banmal with pretty much everyone and refers to them by name, or name + ah/ya (which is the casual vocative marker), and it's perfectly acceptable for her to do so.

The rest of the TOP5 call her 언니/누나 (unni/noona, lit. "older sister" but more generally used to refer to any slightly older female acquaintance; which one is used depends on the speaker's gender). They also sometimes call her 영이 언니/누나 (Young-i unni/noona) for short, which I thought was cute. There's actually a Q&A question that asked about this because it is a very familiar/affectionate nickname, and the director explained that Juyoung asked the others to call her that because she was afraid of seeming unapproachable due to her age and because of the fact that she was a former idol.

Gyuhyuk (27)

As the second oldest, I believe he uses banmal with everyone but Juyoung. The younger male characters all call him 형 (hyung, lit. "older brother", see above), though I can't seem to remember Inha calling him 오빠 (oppa). I might be projecting that assumption onto her based on her somewhat brash personality, since 오빠 can come off as a bit...Girlish? Cutesy? Flirtatious? in certain contexts? Idk.

Doyoon (25)

What's notable about Doyoon is that he uses the polite form with Juyoung, but not Gyuhyuk. He calls Gyuhyuk 형 (hyung), of course, but he uses the casual form, which suggests that they're close enough with each other that they've already agreed to drop formalities. Their first rapport event gives me the sense that they're especially close, too, compared to the other contestants (as does just like...waves in their general direction, but anyway,)

Inha (25)

Inha is the same age as Doyoon, so you would also expect her to use polite form with Juyoung and Gyuhyuk. However, she doesn't with either of them IIRC.

As for Juyoung, I don't remember how much of this came through in the text of the game itself, but I would guess they were probably already pretty close in a way similar to Doyoon and Gyuhyuk were. At the very least, I think I remember one of the Q&A answers indicating that they kept in touch very frequently after the events of the game.

I don't really remember too many interactions between Inha and Gyuhyuk, tbh. I do recall that she (not sure if any others do) refers to him as 규 (Gyu) at least once, which I think is adorable, LMAO. This might indicate that they may have been on close enough terms to use casual speech? But then again, she did seem to resent Gyuhyuk at least a little bit for the scholarship thing, and according to the Q&A she took much longer than Juyoung and Doyoon to see him again after the game, so??? She could just be kind of disrespectful like that, which...Kinda tracks, honestly??? 🤷‍♀️Like I said, I don't remember too much about these two, so don't take my word on this.

Hyesung (20)

Hyesung is the youngest, so you would expect him to use polite speech with everyone, but he, uh, does not. With anyone. LMAO. Maybe he's just super tight with everyone, but something tells me it's more because he's a rude little shit who's just Like That. (I mean, he uses banmal with Seil, who does hate his guts, so.) He does call everyone 형/누나 (hyung/noona), though, at least—though, now that I think about it, Seil might be an exception to that, LOL.

Since he's the youngest, everyone just calls him Hyesung.

Also, this is tangential, but I also just wanted to throw in that Hyesung notably has a slight "old man" dialect in that he sometimes uses expressions and slang that you would expect from the older generation, because growing up his only friends were the other vendors at his mom's fish market. This is unrelated to politeness, but it does come off as really funny considering how young he is, and definitely gives his speech a unique vibe.

Staff

Seil (24)

The speech patterns between Seil and the TOP5 are pretty similar to speech patterns within TOP5 itself, which is to say, fairly informal but still polite. He uses polite form with everyone older than him, and uses banmal with Hyseung. I actually wouldn't necessarily have expected this to be the case since he technically has more of a professional relationship to the TOP5 than they do with each other (so I wouldn't have been surprised if he actually used formal speech, rather than just polite), but it's probably because he's in that same age range and because he was the staff member who was closest to them socially.

I believe you are correct that he calls Inha, and Inha alone, -씨 (-ssi), which is actually formal, rather than simply polite. Probably just indicating his high level of admiration for her in particular.

The rest of the main cast just call him Seil. Hyesung also occasionally calls Seil 세일 FD님 (Seil FD-nim) which is technically extremely formal, but obviously said in sarcasm.

Seungyeon (33)

I believe she calls everyone by their full name, and uses casual speech with them. Makes sense. She's the boss.

Everyone else calls her PD님 (PD-nim, formal). Including, notably, Hyesung. AFAICR Seungyeon is the only character Hyesung shows even an ounce of deference toward in this game. 😛

Other

Suchang (27) & Suyeon (18)

AFAIK Suchang only really has in-game interactions with Doyoon and Suyeon, and Suyeon only has interactions with Suchang, who she of course calls 오빠 (oppa), in the familial sense. Though IIRC at the very end she does once refer to Doyoon as 그분 (geubun, lit. "that person") and 도윤님 (Doyoon-nim), both of which are extremely formal/deferential in tone but in kind of a "little girl talks about her crush as if they were Prince Charming" sort of way...Which causes Suchang to hilariously go into overprotective/jealous older brother mode.

The Ha siblings use casual speech with each other, which is standard among siblings. However, Suchang also talks down to Doyoon, which is pretty audacious of him considering they're strangers—he basically talks to Doyoon as if they're already friends. He's kind of an audacious guy in general, though, so I'd say that kind of fits his character.

Doyoon, on the other hand, being the polite young man that he is, uses polite speech with Suchang. There's a funny scene where he accidentally slips up and uses banmal, and then immediately gets called out by Suchang, who chews him out for talking down to someone older than him. (Though ofc Doyoon had no way of knowing this, and also, Suchang shouldn't be using banmal with a stranger in the first place.) At the very end of the true ending when they finally meet, Doyoon actually takes it up a level and calls Suchang 수창씨 (Suchang-ssi) but Suchang tells him to drop it and just call him 형 (hyung). It's sweet.

#khattikeri #Asks #Buried Stars #Meta #liveblog: bstars

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years

Text

Deleted Scenes: A Character Study (Part 1)

Longer title -- “Deleted Scenes: if the Criminal Minds writers had any idea how to incorporate dramatic back story into a working narrative, A Character Study”

Every once in a while I get impassioned about something that happens in the show, or more importantly that doesn’t happen in the show -- but should have. This will probably be one of at least a handful, but for now, enjoy the pinnacle of my rage. Fueled by all the OPENINGS for Hotch to talk about his past and the writers taking advantage of NONE OF THEM, but this was my breaking point.

Rating: General

Warnings: mentions of past child abuse

Pairing: none

Characters: Hotch, JJ

Episode, and placement: Season 10, Episode 05, “Boxed In”; after the episode

Word count: 2,404

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29796501/chapters/73302726

A Prime Example

Very few things get to Aaron Hotchner. Especially things that are said with no relatable context to him or the details people don’t know about his life. His past, in particular. He pushes them back in compartmentalized little boxes, carefully labeled and sorted and set aside to be unpacked at a later date. They aren’t important when he’s on a case. When a twelve-year-old boy is missing and his life hangs in the balance. When time is of the essence.

Which is why, on numerous occasions, he lets the things people say slide.

Especially on the topic of Nature versus Nurture.

He, himself, has written a handful of papers and reports on the very argument. There’s no doubt that Nature and Nurture have complicated roles in why ‘bad people do bad things’, in layman's terms. But the stigma surrounding it, cutting it into a black and white, all or nothing scenario will always rub him the wrong way. Not because he believes in it, one way or the other, but because he lives it. Day after day.

It’s not his team’s fault that they don’t know that. Hotch keeps those parts of his life to himself. Lessons only he has learned, and has grown from, and keeps as careful guidelines.

Until this case.

“I guess we all become our parents at some point.”

The way JJ had said this -- steady, with no hesitation, despite the choice in phrasing indicating it could be a right or wrong assumption -- gave the statement an air of inevitability. Creating a precedent in her mind that set Hotch's teeth on edge, though it had not been the appropriate moment to correct her on it. But it's not the first time JJ has said something along those lines.

“Does the son of a sociopath even really have a chance?”

Not a lot gets to Aaron Hotchner. Every other remark, observation, detail of an unsub’s correlation between their upbringing and their crimes he doesn’t let sting his exposition. It has never affected him before, and he vowed it never will. His father doesn’t get to take that away from him, too.

But the inevitability of her statement, indicating it was only a matter of time. No matter what he has done with his life or the person he has worked so hard to become and imbody, ultimately it wouldn’t matter in the end. That one day, Aaron Hotchner would be just like his father. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to live with himself, if that were to happen.

That single, throw-away sentence, with a pedestrian phrasing he has heard over and over again, gets to Hotch. It buries itself in him like a tick and refuses to let go, not for tweezers or fire or smothering indifference. It is still there, echoing in his head as if shouted down a long tunnel, even after they get back to Quantico and are finishing up the closing paperwork later that week. He finds himself barely able to glance at JJ for longer than a moment without hearing her words once more, and Hotch berates himself for it. Over and over again. This is why he shuts it all down and doesn’t talk about it. This is why he keeps it buried, where it will never resurface. It interferes with the present, with his work and his friendships and his relationship with his son.

His past needs to stay dead and buried in a plot in rural Virginia, where it belongs.

“I have those reports for you, Hotch,” JJ says, as if procured by his musings. He glances up for the briefest of moments, barely a blink, to acknowledge her and nod in thanks as she leaves the folders on his desk. Then he’s turning back to the SWAT team justification reports and expects that to be the last of it. Drowning himself in his work, where everything is strict codes and formal speech patterns and no emotional influence whatsoever.

Which is why he is surprised to hear JJ address him, again. Never having left his office.

“Sir?” The formal term catches his attention even more. “Is everything alright? Did something happen after you missed Halloween night?”

“What?” The question genuinely throws him off, though it doesn’t show on his face. He had missed Halloween, the first time he had ever done so, but Jack understood. He was always much more accepting of the parameters of Hotch’s job than Haley ever was. It was all he’s ever known. “Oh, no -- Jack had a fun night. Slept on the couch so I could see him in his costume when he got home. How was Henry’s night?”

“He and Will had a great time,” JJ answers, her careful, worried expression not waning in the face of Hotch’s slightly more upbeat tone. It’s something he slips into subconsciously when speaking about Jack, or to Jack, or anywhere Jack might hear. Compartmentalization. “I just… noticed you seem off.”

Hotch nods once, in acknowledgement, because he knows he has. He’s working on it. There was no need for an intervention like this. He’s the Team Leader and Unit Chief, he wasn’t the one people were supposed to be checking on.

“Delayed reaction to the case,” he answers, looking back to the SWAT team report and signing off on another section for mobilization after hours. Overtime justifications. Bureaucracy needs the ‘i’s dotted and ‘t’s crossed. “Nothing to worry about.”

JJ takes pause, and still doesn’t make for the door of his office. Like she needs to elaborate somehow, now that Hotch has left a small crack of an opening into his inner sanctum.

“I know we all have cases that hit us too close to home,” she concedes, the start of a much longer speech. “Young boys, even the troublemakers --”

“No, JJ, I appreciate the concern,” Hotch interrupts, and does his best to appease her by keeping the hardness off his face. “But it’s nothing to do with Jack or facts we found. It’s a personal matter.”

“Of course, it’s just --”

Years ago, that would have been that and JJ would have left his office. But time and history have blurred their relationship from boss and subordinate to friends and family. Personal matter no longer meant private, it meant a switch in barriers. It meant family.

She steps closer to his desk.

“You are always there for us, for these kinds of cases.” Her blue eyes bore into his, a technique Hotch recognizes as a fellow parent, to get through and make sure the person they are speaking to is really listening. “But, do you ever allow anyone to be there for you?”

He sighs through his nose. She’s not going to let this go, he can see that. No profiling needed.

“Sit.”

Closing the file, Hotch resigns himself to the fact that this was something inadvertently he’d been wanting to talk to JJ about, anyway. She had been a profiler for the team almost nearly as long as she’d been communications liaison, now, and although this could have waited for her performance review -- it tied into what was bothering him. The small smile of victory, and relief, slips from her lips as she sees the serious set to Hotch’s mouth. JJ is one hell of a profiler. The best ones did it without even knowing they were doing so.

“Wait… is this about me?” she looks mildly scandalized to even have to suggest it. Although really, it shouldn’t surprise her too much. Hotch knows he isn’t great about making things about himself, even when the conversation is supposed to be. So he gathers his thoughts, with such little prep time, and decides to start with where this whole debacle had begun.

In the car. When JJ had made her off-handed comment.

“The events of our lives shape us, and bring us here. As they do for everyone. It’s a technique that also helps us narrow down our profiles. How we were raised, what he have gone through. Heredity factors.”

JJ is staring hard at him, now. Deciphering the point, attempting to look ten steps ahead when Hotch has barely revealed three.

“You’re talking about Nature versus Nurture.”

“You could say that,” Hotch acquiesces. “In a lot of ways we are our parent’s lineage. Unless we choose not to be. I only became a prosecutor because my father was. But now, here I am.”

The parent’s lineage is a direct drop towards the conversation in the car. Both JJ and Hotch are intelligent adults, as is the entire team. Sometimes the most direct reference isn’t needed. Sometimes a key phrase is what links the mind back to the moment, replays it in the mind’s eye so it becomes fresh and there’s no confusion. Fewer words can connect more than a thousand, Hotch had learned that early on as well.

“I was… I was speaking more toward behavior,” JJ elaborates, still unaware where the conversation is going. How this has correlated to Hotch’s odd mood.

“I know you were. And my statement still stands,” Hotch answers plainly. “I’ve noticed that sometimes agents, myself included, let bias dictate their profiles. And we need to stray away from that kind of influence.”

JJ’s slight frown becomes defensive. Confused, but not angry. She’s learning quickly, Hotch notices.

“Nature and Nurture are a part of standard psychology practices. With a lot of information and testing to back it up. Spence could give you statistics for days, I’m sure. It’s proven.”

“Yes, as a theory. Not as a rule.” Hotch continues, giving her that steady, stern but gentle tone that borders on chastisement.

“I have yet to see an exception to that rule, when it comes to children of violent offenders,” JJ buckles down. “If they are the target of that violence, it warps them, Hotch. Plain and simple. How do they recover from something like that?” She’s shaking her head, getting caught up in the emotional aspect of it all over again. The hopelessness of its appearance.

“Any way they can.”

Now he has JJ’s attention, because she hears the shift as soon as it forms on his tongue. The air heavier, hazy like an old memory.

“Sometimes they leave home as soon as they graduate just to escape the situation, and spend their whole adult lives trying to eradicate it. By burying themselves in, say… Law School.” JJ’s stare goes vacant, and Hotch at least has the decency to look away from her as he continues. He has a point to make. “So they can put away people like their abuser. But when that’s not enough, prosecuting after the fact, they start to focus on ways to catch the offenders in the act. Save victims in the real world. Use what they know from experience, but in the field, so no one else slips through the cracks.”

“H-Hotch, I--”

“If there was a file on me as detailed as these on my desk, and there probably is somewhere in this building,” Hotch barrels on, not letting JJ get a word in edgewise. “Then the first seventeen years of my homelife would look nearly identical to John David Bidwell's childhood.” He didn’t need to go into further detail, though bullet points from the case all bust flash between them in neon.

Strict, domineering father figure. Church every Sunday, as a control and appearance factor. At home: a constant deluge of beratements, fear, shouting and fists. Something was always wrong, someone always deserved a punishment. No one was safe. They did what they could, followed the rules to a tee, but that wasn't always enough.

They survived, because that's all that they could do.

And he had.

“If you really require a physical, living exception to the rule, I’d like to hope we know each other well enough that you would consider myself that exception.” It’s the closest he’s ever come to admitting what happened in his father’s household, and Hotch knows that’s as far as he will let it go. No elaboration needed. “Even if I can be ‘a bit of a bully’.”

Stunned and shocked, the last part probably wasn’t needed. But, again, Hotch has a point he’s trying to get across -- and he wants it to make an impact.

“Hotch, I’m so sorry,” JJ croaks out, and he still can’t look right at her.

“Don’t be, you didn’t know,” he soothes her, swallowing a little hard. “No one on the team does, not even Dave.”

“--No one?”

“The only one who probably did was Gideon, but not because I told him. He was just that good of a profiler. You will be, too, one day -- I see that level of potential in you. Profilers are always learning, evolving, developing their skills.” Hotch finally turns his head, and catches sight of JJ with her eyes bright and her nose red. Her tell-tale physical signs that she’s been holding back tears. “Let this be one of those moments.”

She nods, wipes at her eyes discreetly, and collects herself with more strength than Hotch or anyone else ever gives her credit for.

“Was he ever convicted? Your father?”

“No,” Hotch says, level. “He died of colon cancer ten years ago. He never even met Jack. Neither did my mother, though I am sorry for that.”

Silence stretches in the wake of Hotch’s reveal, and JJ only breaks it when she can’t seem to keep it back any more.

“You’re… you’re not really a bully. You know.”

“Yes, I am,” Hotch tells her, the smallest traces of a smile smoothing the sharp edges of his face. “But only when I choose to be. When it matters.”

JJ huffs out a watery laugh, scoots to the edge of her seat as if to stand, but hesitates once more.

“You didn’t have to tell me. But thank you. I’m… I’m glad you felt that you could.”

The sentiment warms the inside of Hotch’s chest, ice cold from the memories he never dredged up if he could afford it. It helps ease them back under the floorboards of his mind, where they belong.

“Thank you for listening.”

She was right. He didn’t confide in anyone, and he doesn’t know if this will help him -- more than likely, not -- but it helped JJ. And that’s what mattered. His team. His family. Growing, learning, becoming all the better for it. The best people he had ever known.

The family he had chosen for himself.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

“Night, JJ.”

-end scene-

#I got irrationally angered and wrote a thing #criminal minds fanfiction #Aaron Hotchner #jennifer jareau #no ships #angst #cw: mentioned child abuse #katyswriting #idk what I'm doing but I'm doing it in style

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coldtomyflash · 3 years

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I've seen your speech pattern analysis on Flash characters. I was wondering if you had any advice on how to create speech patterns for OC characters?

oh heck this is one of the coolest questions i’ve ever received.

i’m gonna try not to go overboard/overwhelming and just give a bit of advice, and then if you want more details please come back and follow up!

There’s a few things to think about up front with character voices / speech patterns. The biggest and most obvious is language and cultural background. The second is personality. The third is personal history. Fourth, briefly, is gender. And the final one I’d say is idiosyncrasies to avoid ‘same voice’.

Culture and Group Dynamics

Depending on the setting, there’s a decent chance you’ll be writing characters from different cultural backgrounds. Even if you’re focusing on a single culture, there will be subcultures. Even if you’re focusing on a single narrow group of people, there will be age and generational differences.

Think about where your character is from. If it’s a fantasy world, that’s still (and even more, in some ways) important. What country, what ethnicity, what mother tongue? Did they grow up urban or rural? High socio-economic status or working class? What sort of educational background and peer group did they have growing up (and presently) and how does that factor into their vocabulary and mannerisms, if at all.

All of these can influence how people talk. There are regional accents and different modes of speaking to signal your group membership. There is code-switching across groups, for those who have had to learn multiple linguistics codes to survive and thrive in society.

How much slang does this group and therefor this character use? What references (modern, outddated, topical, etc) do the rely on? What kind of references (pop culture, music, academic, etc)? What colloquialisms and proverbs do they say? Are these the same or different to their characters, even within the same culture, subculture, or group, and is it because they’re from a different place/sub-group or because of their idiosyncrasies?

You can use these to help your reader get to know more about your character’s background without having to spell it all out directly. Speech patterns and style are a great way to show instead of tell when it comes to details that are hard to drop in organically in other ways.

An important caveat: don’t write a bilingual character who switches languages in speech unless you’re ready to do a bit of research on that. In AATJS I did an absolutely horrific job of this because I was thinking more about fronting the fact that character was Italian rather than thinking through how people actually talk, and it came out exotifying and embarrassing. It’s important to make sure that the way you use language to bring in a character’s cultural and/or ethnic background feels authentic and manifests is a way that respects that language and its users. You can write a character with a complex cultural history without using multiple languages if you’re unprepared to do research and talk to bilingual speakers.

Personality

Probably the most salient thing in a writer’s mind when they’re trying to write character voices: is this the funny character? the serious one? the brainy one? etc.

Don’t overuse stereotypes and archetypes for creating speech patterns (or characters in general) if you’re trying to make a rounded, 3-dimensional character. Instead, go about three levels deeper.

Think about whether they’re introverted or extraverted, whether they are neurotypical or neurodivergent, whether they are introspective enough to express their own emotions clearly or whether they stumble when asked why they did a particular thing or feel a particular way (most people don’t or can’t clearly articulate exactly why they did something or how they feel, and come at things a bit sideways to circle around their motives and interior realities when pressed to make them external and concretely verbal).

Is this character calm, is their voice soothing, do they speak slowly? Are they excitable and loud and is their speech free-flowing? Are they angry? Do they swear? Do they use references for humour or are they more into puns? Do they laugh at their own jokes? Do they talk with their hands?

This character has social anxiety: how does that manifest in her speech? Does she clam up and get very quiet when she gets nervous, or does she go rapidfire and a little too loud (does she process by turning in or by distracting herself by turning outward)? Does she get very careful and deliberate in choosing her words (is she a bit high-strung?)? Ask yourself which fits best with the other elements of her personality and what you want the reader to know/interpret about her.

This character is incredibly smart and a bit awkward: how does that manifest in their speech? Do they tend to use 5-dollar words, or do they expend a lot of energy choosing their words more carefully (how considerate are they to their audience when speaking and does that influence their speech)? Do they stumble over their words and explaining things, or are they good at making points with clear language learned from a lifetime of tutoring and helping others?

This character is the bff, who tries hard to make sure everyone else is happy first: how does that manifest in his speech? How does he switch between his happy-mask versus his more authentic self, and what changes in tone, word-choice, and inflection come in when he does?

Personal History

I’m only drawing a distinction between this and personality (archetype, really) so that I can draw attention to ways to add simultaneously unique and shared layers to characters that are distinct but related to group dynamics.

Here’s sort of what I mean: the level of education of a mother (or primary caregiver) of an infant can determine that infant’s vocabulary size. While we can break down all the ‘why is that’ layers to this, the one I want to point is to the simple truth that the more education a person does, the more specialized language they end up learning over time. This doesn’t have to be formal education though -- the more you learn about something and the more you read and access new knowledges and perspective, the more and more words you learn, and then if you start using those words, they trickle down to those close to you.

So.

What’s your character’s educational background? Is it the same as their friends who you are also writing? Is the same as their family’s? How does this character’s family influence their speech? Are they formal, informal, warm, authoritative?

If you’re writing siblings, they’ll have some shared things! But also some very different ones! Me and my sister talk nothing alike in terms of vocabulary, but a lot alike in terms of mannerisms whenever we spend a bit of time together!

If your characters grew up around each other, they’ll have a lot of the same references. People from the same cities or regions will have things specific to that region, either due to sub-culture effects or because of local references.

The city of Calgary, Canada for instance has the Plus15 which are a connected pedway system between the buildings in downtown, so named because they are 15feet above the ground. Drive 3 hours north to the city of Edmonton, and you have an underground pedway just called the pedways, no special name. Go a few provinces east to Toronto and their underground pedway system downtown is called PATH. These are all known to locals and part of the vernacular, but are opaque to people outside those cities. And the whole idea of them is probably opaque to people who aren’t from super cold cities that don’t require building-connecting pedway systems for pedestrians to get around high-density areas like downtown (or university campuses) without going out into the cold.

Friends, families, and groups are like that too. In-jokes, shared histories, speaking in references. What are your characters’ relationships to each other and how does that history influence the way they approach talking to each other?

Gender

I don’t want to spend too much time on this one because ugh, gender. What even is it?

But like it or not, it has an impact on our speech patterns. There are cultural and societal norms in how men and women are likely to speak, and breaking those norms will be noticed regardless of whether you’re trans, enby, queer, or not. There are norms that people who are queer may fall into as well, sometimes without even noticing at first. A lot of these aren’t about word choice per se but instead about mannerisms and tone and body language, but some overlap or are specific to language.

Speaking in broad generalizations here, women use more emotional language and tend to speak with more hesitancies/qualifications. So more “i think, i feel” and less “it is”. More conversations that front emotions and dig deeper into those, with longer sentences to explain in detail. The obvious caveat is that personality matters more (i.e., is this a person who likes to talk about their emotions in detail or not) but it is something to consider because there will be general but subtle differences that you can use to help further distinguish your characters’ voices.

Sidenote: this can also be exacerbated by different cultural backgrounds and languages (a simple example is Japanese which has different words for “I” depending on your gender as well as your personality, familiarity with the other persons in the conversation, and situational appropriateness, so interesting ways that gender and social expectations intersect in language).

Anyway this isn’t typically a huge problem except that I’ve found that a lot of writers have a tendency to overgeneralize the speech patterns that fit with their ascribed gender due to early-life socialization, or conversely to overgeneralize patterns that fit with their gender identity (when not cis) either due to heavily identifying with their gender identity’s speech model (or sometimes possibly due to a knee-jerk sort of backlash). I say this as an enby who both struggles with it and notices it and tries to edit and correct for it.

I could get into all sorts of examples of ways this can lead to voice issues, but in general i think the point here is to make sure you’re writing any given character in view of that character’s personality and history, with gender only as a modifier for how some of these might come out in subtle ways but which can be important to help tell us about your character (and if you’re writing queer characters, it’s all the more important to consider how their relationship with gender and socialization might impact which speech models and styles they identify more with).

Idiosyncrasies

So, you’ve got a character. You’ve got their personality and history down. You know how they manifest in their speech. And you’re still getting some ‘same voice’ issues.

People really are unique snowflakes. Let that be reflected in their speech.

This person uses contractions differently than that one. This one says “ain’t” and that one says “isn’t.”

This person makes Simpsons references and that one doesn’t like Simpsons, and makes Brooklyn Nine Nine references instead. That other one doesn’t use referential humour much at all. This one loves old movies and hasn’t seen any of the new stuff so they make references all the time but no one ever notices.

This one loves the word “excoriate” and that one doesn’t even know what it means because what the hell, who uses the word excoriate?

This one talks about food a lot, it overlaps with their interests. This one uses metaphors. This one grunts in response. This one exclaims. This one says “like” and that one hates it. That one refers to themselves in third person. This other one uses reflective language an usual amount (e.g., “love me some candy”). This other one keeps misusing the word inconceivable and that one speaks almost without contractions but still comes off as more charming and humorous while correcting him.

I have an aunt who says “girl” or “girlfriend” a fuck-ton and she has been my whole life and I don’t know why because none of her sisters do, but she does and it annoys me so much the way she says it. I swear a lot when I’m feeling casual despite never ever doing it in a professional or even slightly-less-than-relaxed space, so the idiosyncrasy of comfort levels has a massive impact on my vocabulary in ways which, I promise, almost no one who meets me first in a professional space expect.

Let your characters be individuals and try to make them as unique as possible without overdoing it, or over-relying on a single verbal tendency or habit.

And ... that’s all I’ve got for now. Completely failed at being concise. I meant to give like 2-3 bullet points or examples for each, not paragraphs, but here we are. That’s one of my verbal tendencies: long flowing verbosity :)

Hope this helps!

#speech patterns #speech analysis #phyn writes #writing advice #writing #OC's #writing reference #didn't edit so apologies for typos i'm sure i'll come back at some point #Anonymous

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justsomeoneunordinary · 3 years

Text

An “Assassin”

Day 2 of @winteriron-week: Assassin & Recovery

T, 2.3k, Crack, Humor, Sam Wilson Is a Little Shit and We Love Him for It, Background Sam/Nat, Team as Family, Bucky Is an Idiot in Love | AO3

(Day 1 / Day 3 / Day 4)

—

Muzzy is not a word Bucky thought he’d describe how he feels like with ever since he got injected with that bastardized version of the Super Soldier Serum. And yet it’s exactly how he’s doing after waking up and being blinded by the brightness all around him. A groan leaves his lips as he closes his eyes again.

Fucking hospitals and their stupid bright lights.

There’s a snort to his left, followed by a “Finally, you’re awake.”

Bucky slowly turns his head and blinks up at Sam who’s seated at the visitor’s chair, a grin plastered on his face, all shiny glinting teeth and tooth gap. The sole sight of the mischief in those black eyes is enough for his memories to come back.

And boy, do those hit harder than a truck on the highway.

“Oh man, that was hilarious.” Sam’s grin widens even more at that and Bucky can feel his cheeks heat up. “Can’t wait to tell the rest of the team what happened. I even got a video of it!”

Oh, hell no. Sam is already taking his phone out but before he can click on the video, Bucky shoots him an angry look and growls, “Don’t you even dare.”

He tries to get up in a sitting position, so he can throw a pillow for emphasis but with each movement the room spins even more and he loses orientation anew. Faintly, he feels a pain in each of his joints, but his head is too dizzy to register it properly. God, the last time he had been like this was in 1937 when he got high in the queer bar down the street of Steve’s and his apartment with that tiny guy from the neighborhood who knew to give one hell of a blowjob.

“Sure. I already quiver in fear,” comes the deadpan reply.

What an ass. Not for the first time does he wish to kill Sam. Just a little bit. As a treat.

So, he pulls his winner card: “You tell anyone what happened and I tell Nat where you hid that strap-on of hers she’s been missing so much.”

Sam’s grin immediately falls at that, changing to an expression of pure outrage. “You son of a bitch.”

Hah, checkmate. Bucky still can’t feel any of his face muscles, so he doesn’t know if they’re doing the right thing, but he imagines he’s grinning smugly right now.

“Have you even seen that strap-on? That thing is deluxe! You wouldn’t want that up your ass either!”

No, Bucky had not seen it, and he’d like to leave it that way too, thank you very much. But knowing Natasha, he can only imagine what it must look like. She tells him much more about their sex life than he’d ever want to know. And he still doesn’t know why she tells him these things of all people, instead of Clint or Wanda or hell, even Tony (Tony would absolutely participate in any sex talk there is (Bucky wouldn’t say no to sex talk when Tony is involved in it)), but he suspects it’s her own way of hobby torture.

Sam wrinkles his nose while he gets up, flips him the bird and says, “Fine, you win.” Then he walks to the door and Bucky squints at him, because there’s no way it would be that easy, Sam would definitely want to have the last word—

“Good luck explaining to Tony what happened, because he’s waiting outside already,” Sam tells him while opening the door, winking at Bucky and leaving the room, his snickering still lingering in the halls outside.

… Fuck.

Okay, he’s got like… ten seconds before Tony comes in, he can easily just climb out of the window and up to the roof. He just needs to get out of the bed which shouldn’t be a problem, broken bones or not, because he’s a high-profile assassin and—

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Busted.

“Trying to disappear before you can see me?”

Tony blinks at him and Bucky blinks right back, because seriously, what the fuck Barnes? He didn’t mean to say that, it just… slipped out.

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a good idea. You might have enhanced healing, but you broke nonetheless more bones than you have in your body, I don’t think getting out of that bed any soon could end well for you. And it would be such a shame too. After all, I brought you a get well soon balloon.”

And sure enough, there it is. A red balloon. With a ‘get well soon’ inscription in golden letters. Bucky feels quite touched by this gesture. Tony thought of him. He brought him a balloon. In Iron Man colors even. That has to mean something, right?

As Tony comes closer, Bucky seizes the opportunity to appreciate the way Tony’s suit hugs his figure perfectly in all the right places. If Tony were his, he’d unwrap him out of it as if he was a present. He’d trace the material with his fingers, take slowly each layer off and soak in every inch of newly revealed skin.

“Hey, I know I look irresistible, but there’s no need to drool, Buckaroo.”

Damnit. Bucky would like to order a shot in the head right about now, please and thank you. He tries to wipe the drool off, but neither hand does what he wants, so he settles for living in shame forever.

“So,” Tony sits down at the same chair Sam had been just a minute ago, “can you tell me what put you, a Super Soldier, in such a state?”

This is exactly the question Bucky had been afraid of. See, Bucky has a tiny little bit of a… problem.

It started only three weeks after he had moved into the Avengers Tower on a completely ordinary and uneventful morning. Bucky had sat himself down at the kitchen bar, as always on the second last chair on the left side, which was the exact right angle for him to get a look at Tony’s perfect round bubble butt when he would come and bend over the counter to get himself coffee, so his pants would stretch over that wonderful butt and Bucky would have an eyeful of perfection without being creepy about it, because he was “just sitting there” and “looking normally straight ahead”.

On that particular morning however, had Tony loudly cursed after opening his coffee can, and whirled around to glare at each Avenger with a look that promised murder and bloodshed. “Which one of you used the last bit of my coffee and then didn’t even tell J.A.R.V.I.S. to order more of it?”

The answer to that was obvious. No one else would’ve done something risky like that but Clinton “I have a death wish” Barton. Which wasn’t something they would tell Tony, because no one on this team was a snitch.

Well, and then Tony’s eyes landed on Bucky and it took only three seconds of having Tony’s full attention, that he blurted without a second thought, “Clint was it,” and even pointed with the finger towards him. That earned him a gasp and spluttering and an utterly disappointed “How could you? I thought we were sniper buddies!”

After that there was a pattern. One Nat didn’t take long to notice and confront him about it.

“You can’t lie.”

“What? Of course I can lie.” Which was true. You can’t be a high-ranking assassin and go on undercover missions without being able to lie—you’d die on the spot.

“Fine, I correct myself: you can’t lie at Tony.”

Which Bucky denied vehemently and then didn’t talk to Nat for a month.

Fact is though, which it always is when it comes to Natasha Romanoff, that she was right. For some even to him inexplicable reason, Bucky is simply unable to not tell Tony the truth when he just looks at him. And it’s absolutely ridiculous, because Bucky should be able to. He is the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA. Instructor of the Black Widows in the Red Room. A weapon—a ruthless killer responsible for numerous assassinations. Tony’s big brown eyes, shining golden in the hospital’s light, framed by those surreal long eyelashes, which makes him the most beautiful person in the entire world, should not be a reason for—

“Sam bet that I wouldn’t manage to roller skate and I had to prove him otherwise.”

… Damnit. Bucky doesn’t need a mirror to know that his face is redder than a tomato. The memory of it alone fills his entire being with embarrassment and Tony knowing what happened makes this situation definitely not a single bit better. He still can’t believe it happened in first place. Bucky is a well-trained Super Soldier! A pair of ugly shoes with some tiny wheels on it should not have been his downfall, for fucks sake!

Tony tilts his head at that, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait a moment. What exactly happened then? Did you just… fall?”

Bucky gulps and focuses on Tony’s tie pattern instead of answering. There are little Hulks on it. He likes it, it’s very Tony.

“In my defense; there was a staircase,” he murmurs at last, still not looking up. The Hulks on the tie wear purple pants. He’s pretty sure Bruce would like that tie too, he’s got a dorky humor like that, even though he’d never admit it.

A few seconds of complete quiet pass, and when Bucky finally does look up, he can see Tony’s corner of his mouth twitch, until he apparently gives in to his urge and throws his head back, laughing so hard that tears of laughter start forming and running down his cheeks.

Bucky wishes for an instant divorce. Sure, this might be the most beautiful sound he has ever heard in his life, but he still wants a divorce.

Not that they’re married or something—or at least not in real life. Bucky did dream of it once, though. It was a spring wedding. Nat and Pepper were their “best men”, because neither wanted Steve and Rhodey to hold a speech. The decorations were in Arc Reactor blue. It was very beautiful, people even cried.

“You are something else, Bucky Barnes,” Tony shakes his head, the humor still audible in his voice, and a look in his eyes, that could almost be described as fond.

Bucky takes the divorce-wish back.

“Now see,” Tony begins as he gets up and slowly gets closer to Bucky’s bed, “you’re not as subtle as you think you are.” He sits down at the edge of the bed an sends him one of those brilliant smiles, that make Bucky’s head all dizzy and his heart sing with want. “Those looks you always give me are unmistakable.”

Tony takes that weird looking pudding from the nightstand and starts opening it up. “And all this time,” he continues, “I waited for you to finally make a move.” At that he rams the spoon with the pudding right into Bucky’s mouth without any prior warning.

Bucky almost chokes and it’s only thanks to his control over his reflexes that he ends up swallowing the pudding, instead of spitting it out. He coughs a few times and looks up at Tony in shock and disbelief. If this is how Tony takes care of injured people, Bucky doesn’t have any interest to ever do a nurse role play with him.

Tony gasps in indignation. “Are you telling me you would not want to see me in a nurse costume?”

This time Bucky does choke. On nothing but his own spit.

He imagines Tony in one of those tight short dresses, his legs all exposed, wearing heels as well as rich red lipstick and—and stops before his blood can rush anywhere south.

“Yeah, thought so,” Tony smirks and proceeds to slam another spoonful of pudding into Bucky’s mouth. At this point Bucky doesn’t know if his face is red from embarrassment, horniness or almost chocking, but red it sure is.

“Where was I again? Ah right, so I waited for you to make a move, but had to face reality, that you’re just too chicken to do anything about your crush on me. Which is kind of ironic, because aren’t you supposed to be a feared assassin or something?”

Bucky’s brain officially short-circuits at that, because Tony did… what?

“Yes, yes, I figured out your little secret, keep up with the class, I don’t like repeating myself. So anyway, this is me—” another spoon makes its way down his throat— “asking you for a date, because you apparently weren’t going to.” And Tony smiles at him so brightly, Bucky is sure he could lighten an entire country.

Bucky holds his breath and waits to wake up, because this can’t be real, this must be a dream. But when after a while nothing happens, but Tony’s smile slowly falling apart and making room for an unsure expression, he asks, “A date?”

“Yup.”

“With me?”

“Preferably, yes.”

“Okay,” he croaks, so he doesn’t do something dumb like start crying from happiness for example or jump at Tony who’d crush under his weight.

“Okay?”

Bucky clears his throat. “Yes, okay. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Okay.” And back is that smile finally Bucky would like to kiss one day.

“Now that that is settled,” Tony digs into the pudding again (fucking hell, is that still not empty?), “how about a deal while I take care of you, since we have to wait until you have healed anyway before we can go anywhere: you tell me where Wilson has hidden Nat’s deluxe strap-on and I tell the rest of the team that you got your injuries from a heroic fight protecting civilians against a criminal. Hm, what do you think?” The glinting mischief in Tony’s eyes when he winks at Bucky is unmistakable.

Bucky thinks that this is the best day of his life.

#may writes #winteriron #buckytony #starkbucks #tony stark #bucky barnes #WI WEEK 2020 #WinterIron Week

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haec-est-fides · 3 years

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Hi, can we discuss how -- however he was influenced by Gaea -- Octavian was likely very familiar with the Triumvirate? It’s subtle, but it shows up most clearly in the way he talks.

(Personally, I think Octavian might have been raised by one of the Imperial Households, but you could just read it as him being in contact with the Triumvirate for a significant amount of time.)

The most glaring red flag imo is that we learn from Rachel (in Hidden Oracle) that the Greek / Roman parley in House of Hades was held on property owned by Nero. This is more important than the fact that Octavian was merely funded by Triumvirate Holdings, because a) it makes an in-person meeting more likely and b) Luke was also funded by the Triumvirate and he doesn’t have the same connection that I’m seeing in Octavian.

Looking back to the parley scene, Octavian goes so far as to mock Rachel by saying, “You’re the Oracle of Delphi? Right. And I’m the Emperor Nero.” It may feel like a throwaway line, but it’s foreshadowing, plain and simple. In universe, I’m almost entirely certain that the reason Octavian says Nero and not Augustus (his namesake, as he loves reminding people) is that he’d recently talked to Nero and knows whose building they’re on. It’s like a Freudian slip -- and it’s just the tip of the iceberg, because Octavian slips up like that a lot.

Let’s start small: Octavian tends to speak in a rather dramatic, formal way. (He says “alas” in ordinary conversation, for instance.) He’s intentionally dramatic and somewhat sarcastic at times, sure, but I think it goes deeper than that. {I bring up one of my headcanons here, but it isn’t the crux of the whole argument. Bear with me.} I find it likely that Octavian learned Latin as his first language -- namely from the fact that his family has been sending kids to Camp Jupiter for over a century and his attachment to the idea of being a true / traditional Roman -- which would have an impact on how he speaks English. It would make sense, then, that his English speech patterns are similar to those of other native Latin speakers -- like the Triumvirate.

Trials of Apollo shows us that the triumvirs also tend to use more formal English, such as avoiding contractions and using what we might consider to be dated terms and phrasings (though this certainly isn’t a hard rule). Again, I don’t think it’s really conscious, but rather a byproduct of being native Latin speakers. In Hidden Oracle, for example, Nero says (to Apollo), “My own forefather does not recognize me?” I’d consider both his use of the word “forefather” and his avoidance of “doesn’t” to be a concise example of what I’m talking about.

It’s also true that few other characters use “alas” like Octavian does. In Heroes of Olympus, it’s only gods / titans / monsters who use the word “alas” (besides Octavian). In Trials of Apollo, it’s actually Apollo himself who uses that word the most (though remember, he’s also the narrator). He says “alas” 5 times in Hidden Oracle and ups it to 12 in Dark Prophecy. Do I need to keep counting? Beyond Apollo’s narration, Macro, Medea, and Caligula all say “alas” at least once in Burning Maze. All of these characters speak ancient languages, and half of them are native Latin speakers. I’ll admit that maybe it isn’t wholly a Latin thing, but there’s still a case for Octavian speaking in a way that could have been influenced by the emperors and their entourages.

Moving a step beyond nitpick, the connection between Octavian and the Triumvirate can also be seen in what Octavian says and the words he uses throughout Heroes of Olympus. We can split the analysis into 3 ideological themes, really: loyal Romans, immortality, and the future.

In Son of Neptune, Octavian calls himself a “loyal Roman” in a conversation with Percy. It’s rhetoric, a succinct yet subtle way to express Octavian’s ideology / self-conception / political striving, and that’s exactly the point. Later, in Blood of Olympus, Michael Kahale criticizes the people that Octavian is recruiting into the legion, calling them murderers, thieves, and traitors. Octavian, on the other hand, calls them “loyal demigods” -- again, fully aware of the rhetoric of that statement. Bryce Lawrence, one of said recruits, calls himself a “loyal Roman” too in order to appeal to Octavian and be permitted to rejoin the legion after his exile.

The reason this recurring “loyal Roman” motif strikes me is that it’s eerily similar ideology and phrasing to something Nero says in Hidden Oracle. Apollo asks, “The other two emperors. Who are they?” and Nero responds, “Good Romans -- men who, like me, have the willpower to do what is needed.” A line from Caligula’s speech before battle in Tyrant’s Tomb echoes the same sentiment: “It’s time to be true Romans!” In Tower of Nero, Nero also talks about bringing back “traditional Roman values”.

Apollo hits the nail on the head with his commentary: “The fact that Nero -- a man who had killed his own mother -- was talking about defending traditional Roman values...that was just about the most Roman thing I could imagine.” The whole point in all of these cases is that the men talking know that the modifiers they use are 100% oratorical, are dog whistles to those who think the same way and near gaslighting to those who don’t. These modifiers -- “loyal”, “good”, “true”, “traditional” -- mean something entirely different to the person saying them than they do to the heroes / average person! That’s a fascinating and complex parallel.

Immortality comes up in similarly echoed ways, showing that Octavian and the Triumvirate seem to be on the same page, coming from the same viewpoint, thinking alike. In Son of Neptune, what Octavian says to Mars is interesting especially in light of the Triumvirate. Mars, explaining the danger posed by the open Doors of Death, asks the gathered legion, “Can you imagine a world in which no one dies -- ever?” Octavian, despite his showy deference, interrupts the god, “But, ah, mighty all-powerful Lord Mars, if we can’t die, isn’t that a good thing? If we can stay alive indefinitely--” Octavian isn’t outright stupid, so I doubt he’s entirely thinking through what he says here. Of course it would be bad for one’s enemies to never die, but if you consider Octavian to be the type to be tempted by immortality? His interruption seems more in character and more likely if he has immortals or even aspirations to immortality in mind at the time.

In Blood of Olympus, Reyna’s vision of the Roman war-camp gives more weight to what I’ll call the immortality hypothesis. She notes Octavian’s “gilded chair that looked suspiciously like a throne”, how his new title of Pontifex Maximus elevates him “almost to the level of emperor”, and of course there’s the altar: “a marble altar....no doubt for the gods. But to Reyna it looked like an altar to Octavian himself.” In Hidden Oracle, it comes up several times -- even from Nero himself -- that the Triumvirate turned the ancient Imperial Cult into something powerful, something that could make them immortal. The Imperial Cult, at its simplest, looked a lot like what Octavian is doing in Reyna’s vision. Whether the Triumvirate told Octavian to do any of this, he got the idea from them, or he came up with it on his own, it’s another sign of similar thinking, at the very least.

Finally, the future -- which, of course, is bound to come up often where an augur is concerned, but I’m thinking of one line in particular. In Blood of Olympus, Octavian tells Michael about his plans, blatantly admitting that he’s aiming to declare himself “First Citizen” like his ancestor Augustus. (That title is princeps in Latin, and it’s an imperial title all three of the triumvirs use.) His Augustan lineage, which makes Octavian a legacy of Apollo from the same bloodline source that both Nero and Caligula get that status from, is another puzzle piece. Octavian is open about his heritage, his family is recognized as wealthy and powerful in New Rome and yet is never present there, and the Triumvirate seems unlikely to lose track of their relatives. Even so, what Octavian tells Michael next is a less speculative tie: “We will rule the future.” This is, specifically, the way Apollo frames the threat posed by the Triumvirate throughout Trials of Apollo once he becomes aware of their plan regarding Python and the oracles. A lot of that description comes after Apollo hears something Nero says to Python: “When we control all four Oracles, we will control fate itself!”

I suppose a facetious TL;DR might be that if you told me that Nero (canonically the best orator in the Greco-Roman Riordanverse) had been giving Octavian (canonically the best orator at Camp Jupiter) lessons in oratory or that Caligula had taken Octavian under his wing and every Tuesday they talked about world domination over coffee, I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

Maybe this post is more of a Rorschach inkblot test for myself and how I read these books. Maybe I’m trying to read way too deeply. Whatever the case, I think that there’s something more to be said about Octavian and the Triumvirate than funding, and no one has been saying it.

#trials of apollo #toa #tower of nero spoilers #heroes of olympus #hoo #hoo octavian #triumvirate holdings #toa nero #toa caligula #toa apollo #I'm not tagging everyone #filodox!#basically this post is my attempt at writing out a vibe / something my intuition picked up on so idk if it really makes sense #or looks entirely crazy #you decide

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dreamingabouttaron · 3 years

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History Repeating - Part 3

Trigger Warning - Mentions of Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy and Vomit.

It took a couple of weeks for the tension in the Egerton household to cool down. Little sparks to arguments would abrupt out of nowhere due to the added stress that had been piled onto the family. Everyone tried to pretend everything was normal. You tried the hardest. Distracting yourself with school, homework, spending time with friends— you really tried. You had too. Even half-assing your attempt at normalcy would be enough to stop your emotions from crushing you. You felt like you were on a constant battle with your anxiety, which wasn’t helping your nausea.

You slowly walked down the stairs to find Taron sprawled out on the sofa. He was absentmindedly staring at the background on his phone, which you knew was an old throwback photo of the three of you, it was one he hadn’t changed for years. The picture always made him smile. As you stood silently watching, you felt your stomach lurch and bile rise up into your throat. Holding a hand firmly to your mouth, you stumbled your way back up the stairs, and hurry to the nearest toilet. Even though the distance between the stairs and the bathroom wasn’t very long, you barely made it to the toilet before you start vomiting. And it was probably the most intense vomiting session you’d ever had.

It only took a few minutes before you felt your dads calming presence by your side. He quickly grabbed your hair and hushed gentle words of support in your ear. Just like he had every single time you got sick. Just like he had with Lily. He ran his hand smoothly across your back making you instantly feel better. Once you finally finished, and were no longer dry heaving, you leant back on your knees. You try to catch your breath, brushing some tiny strands of hair from your sweaty face.

“Better?” Taron asked as you finally opened your eyes. You slowly nod your hair, not wanting to make any rapid movements incase they brought on another round of vomiting. Your dad had been there every step of the way, just like he had promised you. “Here, drink this.” He said as he pressed a cold glass to your lips. You took small sips of the water, washing the taste from your mouth. “Let me go and make you a green tea, you can sip on it in the car on the way to your appointment.”

You were thankful he was going to be there with you at your first appointment that afternoon. You didn’t think you could manage it on your own. While you were excited to go, you also felt nervous. What if something goes wrong? You can’t help but wonder — worry — that something will go horribly wrong and you’re not ready to deal with that. Certainly not on your own.

When you arrived for your appointment, you went over and signed in before relaxing into the waiting room with your dad. You looked around at all the other expectant parents. You could feel Taron stiffen as he looked around too. He was nervous for you. He wasn’t ready to become a grandparent in his late 30’s. Hell he thought his wife was pregnant not his daughter. But if he hadn’t got Lily pregnant so early, he wouldn’t be in this situation. Yet, he wouldn’t change it for the world. You were his world.

Fifteen minutes later your name was called and you both followed a tall thin lady into a room. You sat on the edge of the bed as you swung your feet back and forth looking at all the posters on the walls that talked about pregnancy, cervical dilation, and menstrual cycles. A few moments later; gentle knock on the door makes you flinch, your eyes snapping to the door as you watched it open. An older woman, with grey dark hair and a kind face, comes in and looks at you and Taron.

“Hi,” she says. “Grace?” You nod, she gives a warm smile, closes the door and sits across from you. “Hello, I’m Mary, I will be your ultrasound technician today. And this is…” She slowed her speech down as she looked to Taron with thin eyes.

“Hello, I’m her dad. I’m here for moral support.” He said as he replied with a short sharp smile.

“Wonderful.” She replied before turning back to you. She explained everything that was going to happen. It had been worked out that you were about 9-10 weeks pregnant. You sat and listened, trying to take in everything that she was saying. She instructs you to lie back against the bed. You lift your shirt up and flinch from the cold gel as it makes contact with your skin. You gulp with anxiety. Your eyes dart across the white clinical ceiling. Taron got up from his chair and went to the side of the bed, grabbing hold of his daughters hand before raising to place a gentle kiss on the back of it.

You both sat in silence watching every move the technician made on your flat stomach. It took you a moment to realise that you were holding your breath. You closed your eyes and tried to relax into the moment the best you could. You kept them closed until you heard your dad release a little audible gasp. You opened your eyes and looked at the tiny form on the screen.

“That’s it right?” You questioned with a slight shake in your voice.

“Yep, that’s your baby.” She replied with a smile on her face. As you stared at the screen, it filled you with such joy, you couldn’t even begin to put it into words.

“Can we hear the heartbeat?” Taron asked, as he squeezed your hand.

“Sure. Let me just…” Mary pushed a button and within seconds the sounds of the baby’s heart beating echo around the room. “That sounds like a very strong heartbeat to me.”

“Wow.” Was all you could say. You felt tears forming in your eyes. You had made that. That was your baby. Yours.

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Taron asked whilst rubbing the top of your hand. “I remember when I heard your heartbeat for the first time.”

“Tan, are you okay?” Lily whispered turning to Taron who was loudly tapping his foot on the squeaky floor.

“Oh, um, yeah, everything's fine. All good. Are you okay?”

The second those words escaped his lips, he couldn't help but feel guilty. He wasn’t even sure why. It's not like he was lying. But he was feeling nervous. Really nervous. But that was normal right? Because according to the books he'd been reading, first time parents - or any parents actually - felt nervous for this. To be fair, it was more like a 'good' nervous; where he's happy and eager, but still getting butterflies in his stomach.

But the bottom line was that he's happy and excited. And why wouldn't he be? It's the first time he was going to see his baby, and he has been looking forward to this day ever since learning about Lily’s pregnancy. It's still weird to him - they're having a baby. A baby! A tiny little version of them.

Thats when it hit them - the sound they've been waiting to hear. Taron and Lily both had that classic excited-but-nervous expression on their faces. There's one moment when they try to laugh, but then they immediately go back to being serious. They just listen to the pattern - dum-dum-dum-dum-dum…

“I-Is that…?” Taron started. His face must have been a picture.

“That’s your baby's heartbeat,” the doctor answered with a smile, already anticipating the question. “And that, right there, is your baby.”

They both turned their attention to the monitor in front of them, the doctor pointing at a particular spot. To put it simply, there's a little blob that seems to be moving infrequently and producing the sound that is reverberating off the walls in the room. But that blob and that sound was Lily and Taron's world. That was the product of their love for each other. The start of their life together.

“That's the baby?” Lily says gently. It wasn't intended as a question, but that's way it came out because she can't believe it either. There's a baby!

“That's right. And so far everything looks good and healthy... I'll give you two some time alone.” They silently thanked the doctor as she left them alone, with the image of their baby still on the screen. The parents still in awe. They didn’t blink once. Not wanting the image to suddenly disappear. They'd read books on pregnancy, and they'd watched shows with a pregnancy plot line, and they'd been told by their own mothers how it feels. But none of those were able to compete with this feeling that they had. The warmth, the love. Lily was barely able to hold it all together, letting the happy tears stream down her cheeks the moment the couple are alone. “That’s our baby T,' Lily whispered while trying to compose herself.

But Taron didn’t respond. He was transfixed on the monitor. Not showing any emotion either, which wasn't like him. “That’s our baby…” He murmured in disbelief.

You and Taron got to see and hear the baby for a few more minutes as the technician took photographs for you to keep. A few moments later the technician turned off the machine and handed you a paper towel to wipe the gel off your stomach. “Everything looks good.” She hands you a line of ultrasound pictures, and you feel a whirlwind of emotions inside you. Taron smiles at you as get sit back up on the bed, “You’ll have another appointment in a few weeks time, in the meantime I want you to start taking these prenatal vitamins, these with help with the development of the baby as well as your health during the pregnancy.”

“Okay. Thank you.” You say as you jump off the bed and collect your belongings.

“No problem. I’ll see you guys soon. Have a good rest of the day.” She guides you out of the room. You thank her and leave the room with the Ultrasound pictures in your trembling hands.

You and your dad walk silently back to the car. You climb into the passenger side, still staring down at the pictures of your little blob. You felt like you were having an out of body experience. You couldn’t believe it. Taron turned the engine of the car on and turned to look at you before driving off. He leant over and placed a little kiss on the top of your head.

“Come on. Let’s go and show your mum.” You looked over at him and smiled. You couldn’t have done this without him.

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#taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton #taron x reader #i love taron #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton fanfic #Angst #Fanfiction #taron egerton fluff #fluff #Pregnant #teen pregnancy #ultrasound

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saltoftheplanet · 4 years

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Your basement in Nibelheim: Unpacking the new themes of Final Fantasy VII Remake

The story told by Final Fantasy VII Remake is a reconfigured one. It tweaks, adds, and cuts the original's narrative in ways that seem designed to bring something new and unanticipated to the experience. However, these alterations are neither random nor incidental. They follow deliberate themes and patterns in the same way a completely original story might. Though not as readily perceptible, the Remake has a coherent outlook that it expresses most clearly through changes to the original narrative. All of its major changes are expressions of internally consistent concerns, albeit ones that differ dramatically from the original’s. By examining the principles underlying those narrative changes, we can understand the thematic axis along which they have been made and the message the Remake ultimately expresses.

Spoilers for everything follow.

Good guys good, bad guys bad

The first major narrative change appears at the end of the first chapter. At the culmination of Avalanche's mission to bomb the Sector One reactor, we see Shinra was actually responsible for the subsequent massive explosion that claimed many lives. The bomb brought by Avalanche was several orders of magnitude smaller, only enough to destroy a few pipes.

In the original game, the opening bombing mission serves as a moral orientation to the world, and as a keystone event by which that morality will later be re-evaluated. Avalanche examines the justness of their actions as early as a couple hours in and is confronted about them directly as late as forty hours onward. The moral ambiguity they express is echoed in many situations and characters in between, from the conflict between Dyne and Barret, the addition of Shinra kidnapper Cait Sith to the cast of heroes, and your frequent run-ins with the openly amoral but otherwise amicable Turks. The cast is a self-interested one and the world they navigate is tangled, often without a clear or righteous path forward.

In the Remake, Avalanche is never made aware that they aren't culpable for the explosion of the Sector 1 reactor. In fact, they agonize far more about the loss of life they are no longer in any way responsible for. In doing so, they enact a kind of moral pageantry - we as players have already been assured of their innocence and each time they question themselves, we are only further reassured that our heroes are fundamentally good. The world of the Remake is morally uncomplicated, and any character it expects you to extend sympathy towards will voice their conscience clearly, up to and including the Turks before they drop the Sector 7 plate.

The corollary is that the villains have become morally uncomplicated. They no longer have any need for the sort of rumination that is regularly employed to reassert that the good guys are good. Sephiroth illustrates this with particular clarity. In the original game, Sephiroth is morally reprehensible but easy to understand and empathize with because we participated in the reflective journey of self-discovery that ultimately made him a monster. His turn toward annihilation is the highly motivated result of coming face to face with the truth about the impact Shinra has had on his life - in other words, roughly the same thing that drives the cast of heroes.

He also expresses his goals in the same terms as Avalanche, orienting his actions around the hypothetical good of the Planet. There is an implicit condemnation of Avalanche's heroism embedded in Sephiroth, who clearly understands himself to be righteous. As the primary antagonist, Sephiroth is the most fleshed out, but most of the villains with any degree of screen time illustrate their own complexities. The shallowest among them, President Shinra, is summarily killed off in the opening act.

But the Remake is not a morally murky world, and neither is it's incarnation of Sephiroth. His motives are either inarticulate or entirely absent as he appears throughout the story at regular intervals to menace Cloud for menacing's sake. Evil is now one of his innate qualities, the same as President Shinra’s, and adding purpose to his actions will only muddy the waters. While Tifa wrings her hands over the harm she may be inflicting by turning off Sector 4's sun lamps - a surely temporary measure - Sephiroth antagonizes Cloud for no reason in particular. Shinra's newfound culpability for Avalanche's bombing has similarly flimsy and inconsequential motivation. Ultimately, nobody's reason really matters; the point is simply to display their moral character, which is always exactly as we anticipate it.

Cloud may flirt with selling his friends out for gil and Barret may wish to kill President Shinra, but neither will follow through because they are Good, as solidified by their intention. Even Cait Sith appears to sorrowfully witness the plate dropping, thus absolving Reeve for his complicity by proxy. Bad outcomes are the result of bad actors with bad intentions. The good guys may feel conflicted and responsible, but no harm can truly come from them. Otherwise, what's the point of bad guys?

Sadness is unnatural

The point of bad guys, if you're wondering, is to bring harm, suffering and loss.

The penultimate boss of the Remake is an incarnation of the Arbiters of Fate, a newly introduced concept. Ghostlike beings known as Whispers appear regularly throughout the story, often during familiar scenes from the original game, interfering with events to keep them "on track." Before the main cast squares off against their ultimate manifestation, Aerith and Red XIII explain that the Remake's Planet is one with a fixed destiny, and these creatures are its enforcers.

"But this isn't how it's supposed to be," Aerith tells us, which is the point to their presence in the first place.

Over the course of the Remake, it becomes apparent that she anticipates certain plot points of the original game, and in particular her own death. This is a point that Cloud seems to remember, albeit vaguely, as well. The implication of the Whisper's presence and Aerith's dialogue about defeating them to "put things right" supposes that the original game's most famously sorrowful moment was the product of interlopers, working on behalf of fate.

To be clear, destiny is not the point of the Whispers. The point of them is that they create outcomes, and the undesirable ones can be changed through their defeat. This is further underscored by the ending of the game following their defeat, in which we see Zack, Biggs, Wedge and Jessie's deaths undone.

Final Fantasy VII was a game very informed by loss and uncertainty. Aerith's death is memetic for how shocking it was, yes, but in its original context the shock comes from the suddenness and permanence of the loss. More sorrow follows, as Cloud breaks down completely and Meteor is summoned. It hangs in the sky over the last act, the physical manifestation of a pall that Aerith's death cast over the game. Even as we approach resolution, the game underscores the uncertainty of life as one of its key themes - no one can be sure whether Holy will work or not, and if it does, what effect it might have on humanity as a whole. Mortality is a neutral and inescapable fact of life.

The sad things that happened in Final Fantasy VII largely did not happen because a being or force made them happen. The most attributable tragedy is Aerith's death by Sephiroth's sword, but her death was unique in the broader media landscape in that it's purpose was not to rally the heroes against the villain. It was to convey the suddenness and pointlessness of the death of a loved one - how abrupt and unjust it is to lose someone. Hollywood-style farewell speeches were deliberately eschewed for a more realistic and sobering finality. Cloud's emotional reaction and Aerith's funeral are the focal points of the scenes that follow.

When things happen for a reason in Final Fantasy VII, the long arm of consequence is usually at play. Most tragedies in the game, including those wrought by Sephiroth, trace their origins back to the Shinra Electric Power Company. There is no fixed destiny, only the culmination of callous decisions made in hubris, greed and self-interest. All suffering wrought by Shinra pays dividends, but the only organizing point to it is that inhumanity and cruelty are self-perpetuating cycles, all the more difficult to escape once you are caught up in the pain of them. Thus, learning to deal with the pains of life truthfully and gracefully is a vital endeavour. Their ability to do so is ultimately what marks Avalanche as the heroes of this story.

The Remake does not believe in the random cruelties of the universe and is not much interested in depicting them either. Death is a markedly different affair. When it happens to Biggs and Jessie, neither can be sent off without a farewell speech delivered against stirring strings. The people in the Sector 7 slums largely escape their pointlessly cruel death. Aerith's death is reconceptualized from a tragedy to a universal wrong needing to be righted, something that never could have happened if things had gone the way that they were supposed to. Loss and sorrow and suffering are not a part of the natural fabric of this universe, but aberrations visited upon it by external actors.

This is why it all must be "put right" by bringing back Zack, Biggs, Wedge and Jessie, and by implicitly averting Aerith's death. Suffering can be avoided through direct physical confrontation with whoever bears the blame. Obviously this means Sephiroth, who is actually responsible for Aerith’s death and has no other narrative reason to fight you, but it also means the Whispers. The concept of Fate is a stand-in for your prior intuitive understanding that Aerith and Zack’s death are integral and unassailable parts of the story Final Fantasy VII was trying to tell. Loss is not so inevitable after all.

It's all about you

Of course, there is another dimension to Aerith's impassioned plea to defeat fate and set things right.

The Whispers aren't an emotionally engaging concept. The rough idea of destiny doesn't really make for good table stakes. Their meaning is only revealed at the eleventh hour, so why should you care whether or not the events of the universe are on the rails when none of the driving action in the past 45 hours has suggested you should? The answer, of course, is that you've played this game before.

The glimpses of a predetermined future and the sadness that must be defeated aren't really concerns of the characters - the "future" that needs to be defeated is in your memory. This game was written for returning players almost exclusively. Sephiroth's every appearance and the Whispers every interference hang on your foreknowledge of what is about to happen. The climax of this game is a confrontation with the most culturally enduring feeling it inspired. Namely, sadness - and sadness at Aerith's death in particular, one that fans begged for an aversion to in the many years that followed.

In one of the most memorable sequences of the original Final Fantasy VII, we're given an up-close view of Sephiroth's becoming as he transitions before our eyes from ally to villain. What happens to Sephiroth is often colloquially described as a break from reality but is better understood as a deliberate reordering. Faced with a reality he can't accept, Sephiroth reconfigures his perception of the world. His new worldview places himself and Jenova at the center, where good and evil are stark black and white and he has no more need of pain. His role is to be the chosen hero, so what is there to be sad about? Later, the same Nibelheim basement provides the site for Cloud to forget himself and undergo his own reconstruction of identity.

The world of the Remake has undergone a similar reconfiguration, but it's not Sephiroth at the center - it's you. The Remake is an incarnation of Final Fantasy VII adjusted to accommodate your hazy memories of it. But no such project can truly tailor itself to the particular and personal memories and experiences of someone engaging with a story for the first time. It engages instead with the cultural memory - evident in the emphasis on rectifying Aerith and Zack's deaths - and rounds out the rest with one key assumption about who you were when you first encountered Final Fantasy VII.

Specifically, that you were a child.

That you remember the good guys being good, the bad guys being bad and the sad parts being sad. The complexities and nuances beyond those points were difficult to grasp. To include them in the Remake would be to transgress upon your memory of the original story. The clear political and philosophical voice of the original might feel intrusive and awkward now that you are old enough to meaningfully disagree with it. The Remake wants to surprise you, but not disrupt you. "Nostalgia" is usually the word people reach for but I think even more apt in this case is "comfort."

The Remake is a comfort game, and as you sit in your proverbial basement and devour it, it tries to tell you what it thinks you want to hear. It supposes that your memory of the original, however detailed, is emotionally and intellectually straightforward, and aims to remake its story from that memory rather than from the meaning of the original game.

Engaging directly with the player's hypothetical and emotionally charged memory is the culmination of the Remake’s first episode of the Remake because it is the point of that episode. Built on acknowledging and reinforcing the memory of the player, the game naturally ends differently. The childish memories of the player is the primary concern of the Remake, and the finale naturally rearranges itself into a tacit promise to fulfill equally naive dreams that never came true in the original.

Illusions of Nibelheim

The net result is that the Final Fantasy VII Remake tells a story with a very different meaning and focal point than Final Fantasy VII, and in fact an often antithetical one. This is not surprising, as their philosophical foundations differ vastly. Where Final Fantasy VII was concerned with human mortality, changing identity and locating ourselves in a broader environment, the Remake is concerned with reflection and personal recollection, and in particular how those reflections are distributed across two very different points in time (time - a theme we are likely to see plenty of as the Remake saga continues on). The original looks outward, and the Remake looks inward.

The striking difference between the two calls to mind another of Sephiroth’s scenes in the original, the one that forms the cloth from which his every appearance in the Remake has been cut. Taunting Cloud and Tifa, he conjures an illusory burning Nibelheim and confronts their faulty memory of the events that transpired there. Sephiroth’s point is this: “What I’ve shown you is reality. What you remember, that is the illusion.”

It’s an illustrative example of the gulf in meaning between two works we once believed were intended to tell the same story. In the Remake, memory is the foundation of reality. In Final Fantasy VII, memory is precious, but deeply unreliable, and never preferable to truth.

#final fantasy vii remake #ffviir #ff7 remake #final fantasy vii #ffvii #ffviir spoilers #final fantasy vii remake spoilers

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ofmythsandmadness · 4 years

Text

laughing like there’s any other answer (part two)

part two to ‘laughing like there’s any good reason to smile’.

SUMMARY - maybe he should have ignored the voices above his room. pretended he was sleeping, or out, or mysterious murdered and unable to acknowledge that she was back, drunk again, and still laughing. but alas, the heart wants what it wants and it rarely thinks things through.

WARNINGS - egregious usage of the word ‘toothpaste’ at one point, some foul language, the avoidance of a lot of questions. one mention of throwing up (but it’s v quick and literally just two words and we skate past it, nothing graphic). also, poor onomatopoeia usage, as though i wasn’t an english fanatic in high school. WORD COUNT - 3790. diego hargreeves x female insert.

A/N - this was meant to be just a quick happy writ. and now it’s a bittersweet (more bitter than sweet) mess that’s just making this story more complicated, haha. but it’s fine, she says, nervously laughing like she hadn’t just mucked up the singular happy piece she’s ever written. i’m not sure how i’m doing, thanks for asking. :)

“IT’S ALL SO STUPID, DIEGO, BECAUSE PEOPLE COULD LIKE YOU.”

After the events of last week, Diego was certain he would never see her again.

Maybe he’d see her, but not her, her. Not the drunk-off-her-ass, mumbling about nonsense and threatening to throw herself out of cars woman, who laughed like she hadn’t a care in the world and called him really dumb, nonsensical nicknames for no reason at all. The one that he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter what he did; she haunted him even without being dead, and he was honestly impressed because that was a hard gift to master so fast.

No, that was a rare sighting of a weird miracle - like a double rainbow, just way less exciting and hopeful.

But as the week progressed, he had not heard from her at all. She was a ghost. He couldn’t find her anywhere, not at least where she would normally be. Diego was certain she wasn’t dead, because he would have heard about that, but apart from the most morbid of options, he was out of clues as to where she could possibly be.

He had not been sure how he felt about that. At first, the absence of her presence was a nice break, and he could do as he pleased without any arguments - but as the days went on and his dreams about the other night got stronger, he found himself curious. More than curious; worried. He didn’t want to have their last conversation be that bullshit.

“I like you, you know that?”

A week after they last spoke, and Diego was trying his very best to not care. It was a Tuesday, and Tuesdays were the days he ‘got off’. The stolen - ahem, borrowed - police scanner sat beside him, crackling every so often, but it didn’t say much more than the usual, professional bullshit that didn’t need his input on. He’d wait the night out, see if anything exciting happened, but he had a feeling it’d be a quiet night.

Diego stared at the punching bag in front of him, watching it sway every so gently. Sometimes he imagined a face on it, most times he didn’t, it was just fun to hit and slash. He probably shouldn’t, the little shits were expensive and Al hated his ass already, but-

THWANK.

To hell with it, anyways.

Two more knives joined their friends, quivering. But they didn’t stay long; Diego yanked them out of the soft flesh of the bag, groaning as he sank back down onto the chair. He threw them again, and then again, creating a sad pattern he often enjoyed after the work was done.

THWANK.

The silver metal glinted in the lamplight, cold and bright. The tip dug into the pad of his index finger; he ignored it and twirled the knife anyways.

THWANK.

An old song played in the back of his mind. He didn’t remember the words, but he remembered enough for it to be annoying as hell, repeating the few phrases over and over like a broken record. Diego tried to think of something else, replace the half-assed memory, and yet still the song played on. His only option was to try to listen to anything else, anything at all, but -

-THWANK.

It was quiet in the gym. The only people there were Al and himself, and neither were making much noise. He only knew the former was still there because of his groaning footsteps as he walked the worn wood above Diego’s head, and the occasional curse thrown out like a bullet towards nothing in particular. But the music of the daytime was gone, and with it had gone the hubbub of conversations, grunts and groans and whatever else atmospheric nonsense he normally got.

THWANK.

He didn’t like the quiet much. And he certainly did not like it then, with the stupid song stuck - why couldn’t he remember the name of it, or anything about it? Just a couple bars of an oldie he didn’t even like...some name with an ‘F’, maybe. A shithead singing out his poor heart for a love never returned back to him...why couldn’t there be any other song stuck?

Diego groaned and threw another knife. He poised another in his long fingers, twirling the handle without much thought before pulling back and -

“-what the hell don’t you get, huh?”

He froze. The knife fell from his hand; he fumbled to pick it up a second later, awkward and absent-minded. So focused on whatever Al was bitchin’ about then, he hardly realised he had squeezed too hard, and then-

“-OW!”

Diego roared with all the sound of a mouse, throwing himself off the chair and towards the small bathroom. The wound wasn’t deep, but it stung bright red and painful, scratching out his stupidness across his tender palm. He should have been more careful, he was always so careful with the things-

“-look...I know he’s here, mister!”

He paused again, scratch forgotten. That definitely was not Al.

“I don’t giv’a crap. We’re closed.”

“Uh...so why is this sign saying it’s open?”

“What - no, you just did that!”

Diego could scream. He would scream, if he wasn’t going to lose his job and home to Al’s pissed off ass - but he definitely, really wanted to, frustration bouncing around in his head like a toddler with a tantrum. Gone were all the thoughts of where Y/N was; all he could think about then, was stopping Y/N as soon as he possibly could.

He hurriedly wrapped gauze around his bleeding palm (which really didn’t do much, it just made the wound look worse) and left the bathroom. Taking the stair steps two at a time, it took him merely thirty seconds to get up to the main area.

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Ah - see, I knew you had him hidden away somewhere!”

Al spun around and fixed his glare on Diego. “You know this lunatic?”

He sighed and nodded (not because he wanted to, but because he had to - there was no way she would walk away from this quietly). “Yeah, I know her. I’ll take care of it, Al.”

“You know, I put up with every single one of your stupid stunts, but I don’t appreciate-”

“-yeah, yeah, I know. I know,” Diego nodded, pretending to listen without hearing a single word of his boss’ speech. “I got it. C’mon.”

Y/N perked up then and stumbled over to him with the biggest smile he might have seen her ever wear in his whole life. If he wasn’t so pissed off…

“What happened to your hand, dear boy?”

He quickly retracted his grip, hiding the injured limb from her sight. “Nothin’.”

“Diego, I’m not stupid.”

“You sure? Cause turning up here, in the middle of the goddamn night on a Tuesday-”

-she yanked her arm away from his tight grip and carried on without him. Even as he protested and hurried behind her, somehow she remained faster, racing down the stairs with the grace of a newborn deer. All limbs and stumbles, but not a care in the world as she shouted something back at him he couldn’t quite catch.

“You can’t just be here.”

“And why not? I mean, you’ve shown up at my place without-”

“-that’s different.”

She stopped then and turned just as he reached her. Both chests heaved, and her eyes darted about his face as though piecing together a mosaic. He just watched her.

“And why is it different, my dainty...dear...Diego?”

“I...I-”

“-gotcha,” she whispered, before pushing the door in with a laugh. “Gotcha, ha - you just got beat by me - how does that feel? How does that feel?”

Diego groaned. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a loser,” she crowed back. But her interest quickly strayed from him, eyes tracing the walls of the tiny space. “You know, I’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah, well-”

“-I like it! I was worried it’d suck total ass, but honestly, out of aaaall the guys’ rooms I’ve seen, this...this is pre-tty close to the top.”

He wasn’t sure whether to take it as a real compliment or not, but at least she didn’t seem interested in a response. It gave him the chance to head back into the bathroom and collect the gauze he had left all over the ground.

“Don’t you have,” he grunted, peeling off the fabric to reveal the sliced palm underneath, “work tomorrow?”

“Work, shmork.”

His teeth gritted. It wasn’t a bad cut, not at all - but it always had to be the shallowest that hurt the most. “Thought you were married to that shit.”

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“Holy shi-give a man a warning,” he retorted, stepping back as much as he could. Though, in the tiny bathroom, there wasn’t much of that - the backs of his legs hit the shower curtain, and she just looked on with a sloppy smile and lidded eyes. “How’d you move so quietly--”

She waved off his question and pushed into the tiny room. “You’re gonna make a mess, trying to deal with that. Let me, loser.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Tipsy. And I’ve got the hands of a surgeon, with or without,” she grinned, refusing even the slightest rebuttal in her triumphant claims. Without any hesitation, she reached for the bottle of peroxide and promptly poured it down his hand like it was water off a duck’s back. Her expression didn’t shift when Diego shouted in pain; she just kept up the swift work with his hand as her hostage.

“You’re a dick.”

“And you’re a little baby.”

“Rude.”

She stuck her tongue out his way.

“You don’t need to-ow,” he hissed, when the gauze tightened too far against his palm. “I could have done it, asshole.”

Y/N’s smile slipped a little at that, and for a moment she didn’t respond; her hands just worked the white bandages around his own, and pressed it together. Finally, once the task was done though, her eyes lifted to his again.

“Sometimes, we need the most help, even when we insist on the opposite.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. I might have made it up. But it sounded real nice, didn’t it?”

Diego just nodded.

“Can I…” her breath hitched, and somehow, she got even closer than before; he could make out every individual lash glint in the bathroom light, and the way her lips were swollen and a little bruised - he guessed from the constant worrying between her teeth. “Can I ask you a question, Diego?”

He nodded again.

Her hand ever so lightly grazed over his own; fingers tracing up with the delicacy of a flower. “Do you…”

His breath caught in his throat. Gone were all the frustrations at her of before; all he could think about was her, on repeat in his mind like an EDM song, blaring her name as explosions echoed in the distance. Wasn’t it just seconds before, that she was torturing him with peroxide? Why couldn’t he think about anything but her eyes, and lips, the way she just --

“W-what?”

“Do you have any toothpaste?”

Diego blinked, then again, unsure if he had just misheard her. “What?”

“Toothpaste. Y’know, the shit ta clean your teeth?” Her head cocked, her eyes singing laughter, “don’t tell me those pearlies are magic-”

“-I have toothpaste - why the hell do you need toothpaste?”

Once more, she looked like she was in on a joke he just didn’t get. “To brush my teeth with...duh. You think I’m just gonna scrub my tongue with a plain toothbrush? Jeez, Diego, how-”

-he cut her off with a grunt that really didn’t sound like any word in the English language and swung past. In the back of his head, he was murdering his subconscious and wishing the idiot would stop acting for itself. “Here,” he said, passing her the tube. “Knock yourself out.”

Y/N’s smile grew wider. “Kinky. But I’d rather just brush my teeth.”

“Jes-what does that even mean?!”

Diego, sadly, would never find out. He was left to simply watch her cross the room again, brandishing the tube with great pride in search of her purse - “I threw up on the way here,” she explained, “and I had my toothbrush, but no toothpaste! And I remembered, Diego has nice teeth, and obviously toothpaste is a necessity, so he must have toothpaste! I think that’s why I told the guy to drop me here, actually.”

“There - you know you’re making no sense, right?”

She shrugged, swooping past where he still stood again. She pulled a toothbrush out of its thin black case and started applying his toothpaste. He watched her, unsure what to do as she took over his bathroom and mumbled through an intense brushing session. Before he could even try to understand her, though, he realised something.

“Do you just carry around a toothbrush, wherever you go?”

Her motions paused for a second before resuming. It was so quick, a normal person would have just skipped right over it, but Diego gripped tight to maybe his only clue towards his personal investigation as to ‘what the hell she was doing there, and why’.

“I - I mwearn,” she paused, spitting out and resuming her brushing, “I dwown’t arwawys - swowry, wone swec.”

He waited.

“Sorry. I was saying, I don’t always have a toothbrush on me, but I did today, I had to pick up my stuff and I guess I just left this little guy in my bag. Which was lucky, right?”

Diego ignored her end question and pressed on. “Where were you picking up your stuff from? You’re moving?”

“Oh, ha - no, nothing like that. Just from a friend.” With a snap, the toothbrush had returned to its case and she was yet again pushing right past. That time, though, Diego followed.

“A friend?”

“You do know the definition of that word, right? I can-”

“-a friend that makes you get wasted after visiting with?”

Y/N pushed herself up her leaning, hands clutched tight to her tiny bag. Her smile still remained, but it wasn’t the easy one of just moments before; it was strained, forced onto unwilling cheeks like a suit of armour.

“I’m not wasted, dear, dapper, Diego. Far from it. If I was wasted, I’d be so much stupider than I am right now. I mean, I can-”

“-this the same friend from last week, too?”

“What? What are you-” Y/N swallowed. Her eyes slipped from his to her purse, watching her hands scrabble at the silver handle like it was her last lifeline. “Are you - I don’t get this routine, dude. I just needed toothpaste! I hate bad breath, don’t you?”

Diego stepped over and grabbed her hands in his uninjured one, pausing the frantic picking at the bag. It dropped with a solemn thud; neither looked down to it.

“What was that for?” She asked, quiet that time.

“You’re not here cause you needed toothpaste.”

“Do you want me to reimburse you for it? Cause I think I might have a dime somewhere, I don’t know how much you want but I’ll pay you back for the tiny, TINY amount of your precious paste I used.”

Diego groaned. For a moment, that flash of frustration flared up again and he was tempted to give up this at all. But it was easily quelled when he looked up again, seeing the worried look she badly covered up with a smile.

“Why’re you here, Y/N?”

“What d’y…” her bottom lip was tugged up into the grasp of her hungry teeth; they worried and nibbled without relief. “D’you want me to go?”

“No. No, I don’t want you to go.”

“Then just let it be, darling,” she sang softly, “and let’s let the toothpaste incident die.”

“No, cause…” his hand pressed softly into her palm, intertwining their fingers with a gentleness he himself didn’t know he possessed. “This is the second time now, you’ve come or called me after getting drunk off your ass, which really isn’t your style. I mean, you’re a freakin’ workaholic. It’s a Tuesday night. You’d be fast asleep right now.”

Her eyes shifted to just behind him, avoiding his soft stare. “You been stalking me or somethin’, my dear?”

“No, but I know you. You’re too caught up in making sure everyone thinks you’re Miss Perfect to be late for shit. Let alone hungover.”

“Well…” she sighed, a sad little sound that barely echoed from her own lips. She seemed to contemplate his words, tossing them over before throwing them away and moving right along. “You really think of me like that? You think everyone does?”

Diego frowned. “Like what?”

“Miss Perfect? Miss - miss -” her hand grew a little clammy in his grasp; she was getting nervous, and he supposed the alcohol wasn’t helping. “-you think of me as a stick in the mud, Diego? I’m not interesting or exciting, just a plain Jane who-”

“-I think you’re fascinating,” he murmured, even without thinking. He almost regretted the words the second they slipped from his mouth; her gaze snapped to his, wide-eyed and confused, and he could just see the cogs working behind her head. He wasn’t even sure where the words came from, or why they had - he hadn’t thought about anything past getting our where she was, and yet…

“You don’t even like me.”

Diego sighed and held her hand a little tighter. His injured palm came to rest over them, squeezing even with the twinge of pain. “Course I like you. You said that last week.”

“Did I?” She laughed, but it was shrill and pitiful. A mere shell of the glorious sounds that had filled his car days prior; if he hadn’t pressed every sound to his memory permanently, he’d have never known she was the same person. “I - doesn’t sound like me. Are you pulling my leg, Diego?”

He ignored her awkward question, pressing on. “That was the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh. You know that? And we’ve known each other for a while.”

“I’ve laughed before, dummy.”

“That’s - those - those’re bullshit laughs, professional garbage,” he responded, each word growing a little bit stronger. “I heard you laugh your ass off to nothing at all in my car last week, and it was be...n-nice. That’s the shit I know that’s real. Not this game you’re playin’ with yourself.”

Y/N still wouldn’t look at him, no matter how he pressed against her hand, or stared her down. Her eyes rested on a space past him, but they grew sadder by the second, losing that little spark of drunken happiness she had forced to build before.

“The Y/N I know,” Diego continued, made bold by a feeling he didn’t recognise, “doesn’t take shit from anybody. You don’t think twice; you just do. You trust your gut and it’s almost always right. Sure, sometimes you screw up, but…”

“...not sometimes, dear. Always.”

“No, not-”

“-dear me, I don’t know why I came here,” she muttered, and within a single pull, she was free and pushing away from him. “Sorry, Diego, I mean - it’s a Tuesday! You’ve got your little black-leather Batman fantasy and I’ve got work tomorrow. You know, I’ve been prepping for this meeting and it’s going to be good, I just need to finish those blasted points…”

She rattled on about nothing at all, repeating phrases and half-mumbling the words as she gathered her dropped belongings up. Her jacket, the bag that had fallen between them before, and something he couldn’t quite catch that had slipped out with it.

And Diego, stupidly, just watched.

“You be careful, okay? And-” she paused then, swaying ever so slightly in the windless room, “-just watch yourself. It’s a shitty world, and I can’t have the one person that - that - well, I don’t know where I’m going with this thought, it’s going to stop now. Ha...yeah, no. Just be safe, and make sure you get your six to nine hours or whatever bull...shit…” A sob ended the sentence, soft and sad and joined right after by a loud sniffle.

Diego still watched in silence.

“I know you don’t like me,” she muttered, voice growing raspy from presumably, tears building behind shitty defenses, “and that’s okay. But I...I appreciate you putting up with me. You’re a good guy, Diego. And that’s good. That’s nice. I think you might just be the last goddamn nice guy in this whole city...hm. Should get you a medal, or something. That’d make a good t-shirt…”

He watched her cross and head up the stairs, staggering on one but regaining her balance quickly. And just as she opened the door-

“-you can’t go home by yourself.”

Y/N stopped still and took in his words. She nodded slowly. “Sure...you’re...um, yeah. I’ll call my si...or...my friend, she’s at my place so...uh-huh.”

“C’mon, I’ll just-”

“-you’ve done enough for me tonight, dear,” she smiled, and he could just make out the glint of a tear on her cheek. “Let’s see if your boss won’t do me a favour, too.”

“Y/N.”

She mock-glared, though the expression wasn’t held long. “Diego - see, I can do that too.”

“Let me take you home.”

“This is good, trust me. I’ll...she has my car, so I’ll just call it in. I’ll be gone in four shakes of a scout’s tail, or…that’s not right.” She smiled. “Doesn’t matter. Thanks for the toothpaste, darling boy.”

“B-be safe...”

“I will,” she promised, still smiling like there was any reason to. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to waste anymore of your time, not going to make you have to save me...yeah. See you, Diego.”

She shut the door then, leaving him alone in the heavy silence.

Moments later, he heard the familiar voices above him again.

“Sir, sorry, if you don’t mind…”

“Great Scott, girl - did he do this to you?!”

“Oh, Diego? No, he’s a lovely boy and he was actually being very sweet, I just...I was just thinking about my grandma, and I...I need to make a call?”

The conversation continued, with Al trying his best to console Y/N, and her repeating - even on the phone - that she would be just fine, and that ‘she was awfully sorry for her behaviour, she’s not really the sort to play such sad pranks but desperate times called for bad measures’. Eventually, then, the voices faded, with her wishing him a cheery goodbye and footsteps clunking against the ceiling.

And it was only as her steps died into silence and the door clanged shut, that Diego unfroze from his standing position and realised what a deep, deep, ‘idiot’s only’ grave he had just dug for himself.

#the umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves oneshot #tua x reader #diego hargreeves reader insert #part two

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