this is sort of pathetic, but when you were younger, you were sort of puzzled by the cartoon representations of fathers: how a kid would be outside with a mitt, waiting to play catch.
it's not that your father never played catch with you, but you also didn't like when he did. something about a hard ball coming quickly towards your face doesn't seem exciting. not that you'd ever say you don't trust him. you trust him, right?
it's not like he never tried to teach you anything. or never tried to parent. on rare days, a strange person would walk in your father's skin. bright, happy, magnificent. this version of your father was so cheerful and charismatic that you would do anything to keep him. and this is the version of your father that would laugh and gently coax you try again. this is the version of your father that would break down the small elements of a problem and point them out so you have an easier time with them.
as a kid, those days happened more often. but somewhere around 11, you started being too much of a person, and he was often cross about it. when he'd try to sit you down to learn something, you spent the whole time with your shoulders around your ears, nervous, uncertain. terrified because you didn't immediately understand how to navigate something. worried you will run out of his goodwill and then you will have the Other Father back, and you will have ruined a good day for your entire family. something about you being visibly afraid - it just made him angry. he would accuse you of not wanting to learn and storm away.
on tv, it's not like there's a lot of versions of men-who-are-mostly-fathers. they can be good dads, but usually their stories are not told in the household. so it's normal that your father is there, but he's never around. you know he was in the house, somewhere, it's just not that you guys ever... "hung out". he just seemed to get kind of bored of you, annoyed you weren't made in his perfect image. frustrated with how much energy it took to raise a kid. over time, you kind of adopt a bittersweet band around your throat - he knows nothing about me. he says at least i never abandoned my family.
and it's technically - technically - true. he was there for you. sometimes he even made an effort and made it to the big moments; the graduations and the dance recitals. he grins and tells everyone that he taught you. it almost erases the days in between, where he complains because you need a ride to school. the weeks that go by where he doesn't actually ever speak to you. the times you say i am struggling and he says figure it out on your own. i can't help you.
and that's fine! that's all fine. you can call him if you are having a problem with your car. or if you need a ride to the hospital. he loves playing hero, he just doesn't like the actual work that comes with being a father. and you've kind of made your peace with that; because you had to, because you don't want to live your life like he does; the whole world at a managed distance, a little rotating and controlled orb he can witness and take credit for but never truly love.
as an adult, you are rewatching some dumb cartoon - and again, the child standing in the rain, with a mitt, waiting for their father to come play catch. as an adult, there's this strange creeping dread - this little thing? this little thing, and their dad can't even show up for that? oh god, holyshit, it's not about the mitt, is it. oh god, holyshit, your father spent most of your life leaving you hanging.
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Oh boy, this is probably so irrelevant to you, but I've read the little piece you made for Babyverse about Jasper having to leave Alice and their son to go hunt and I swear I wept, thinking that's exactly how my baby brother gets everytime I leave. Literally the cutest AU ever made!!! Also, I have a weak spot for Damage Alice. May I ask for some of any of these two masterpieces?
This is absolutely not irrelevant - I'm not around small children, so I am relying entirely luck and vague memories to make any depiction of Ollie convincing, and I am SO glad that I am on the right track!
You caught me in a weak moment, so have a little of both <3
babyverse.
It’s been six fucking weeks since he’s seen them, and he’s trying to convince himself that this is another false lead, another dead-end, even as he presses his foot further on the accelerator.
He knows the old motel he’s going to - it’s been abandoned for decades, with a cracked sign caked in filth declaring it the Rose Spring. It’s a thrice condemned shit-hole, untouched because of alleged chemical leaks or something that the government don’t want to have to clean up to sell the land off. It’s irrelevant though; the Rose Spring, like all the other falling-down, forgotten motels across the country, is a regular haunt for vampires looking to avoid the sun, to meet other travellers, to pass messages back and forth.
He pulls into the motel, barely shutting off the ignition as he gets out. The back is laden with supplies, and he pauses only long enough to grab the bag that Esme has labelled with a big red cross.
The stairs are flimsy and buckle under his step - no place for a human. Half the balcony has collapsed, and at least two of the rooms have crumbled in on themselves - probably in the last storm.
Room 37 is tucked in the corner, and he doesn’t bother to knock as he throws open the door.
Ollie is sitting on the first rancid, rotting bed and his face lights up as he sees Jasper, his arms stretching out towards him. He’s wearing filthy, mismatched clothing that aren’t his, and is sucking on a pacifier again, and for some reason that’s more upsetting than anything else to Jasper - he was just beginning to give it up before everything happened. And now it’s back.
Maria is seated on the bed with Ollie, looking equally as filthy and surprisingly solemn.
“You made it faster than I anticipated,” she says, standing up and motioning to Ollie as the bed tilts slightly without her weight. “He’ll be hungry, but he’s unharmed.”
Ollie makes a whining noise as soon as he’s in Jasper’s arms; a reassuring weight, but Ollie is about to start crying.
“Where’s Alice?” He demands, rubbing his son’s back and hoping they can get out of here, and back north tonight; somewhere they can clean up and talk and he can make sure that they’re okay.
Maria looks grimmer and motions for him to follow her out the door and into the next room.
Ollie gets agitated, straining towards Alice the second they set foot in the second room.
The scent of blood saturates the air.
Alice is lying on the bed, unconscious. There’s an angry wound on her head, and bother her arms. Some rough bandages have been wrapped around her leg, and it’s obvious that someone - perhaps Maria - tried to clean her up.
“Alice?” His alarm is evident in his voice, and he almost hands Ollie off to Maria to go to her side before his brain clicks back into place. “Alice, can you hear me?”
Ollie’s reaching more and his whimpers are turning to wails as Alice doesn’t flinch.
“For god’s sake, give me the child, and deal with your mate,” Maria says, almost crossing. “I didn’t eat him before, I’m not going to eat him now.”
damaged alice.
The race to the ballet studio is the longest journey of his life.
Alice can’t defend herself. She’s never fought in her life. When Maria came to Calgary, Alice had been carefully protected by Esme and Emmett.
He’s never run faster in his life.
The scene that he finds in the ballet studio is one that fills him with anger and terror, and his first instinct is to get Alice out.
Not Bella bleeding out on the floor and screaming (oh god, he knows that scream) with an extremely broken leg.
Or to destroy James, with his joker-smile.
Alice is standing over Bella, blood on her face and dress and hands, and she’s getting upset about it, a thin cry coming out of her mouth as she stares down at her maybe-future-best-friend’s blood smelling so tempting…
But when James laughingly steps forward towards Bella, Alice growls protectively.
He swoops in, barely pausing as he grabs Alice and gets her out of James’ reach, smoothing her hair as he tries to look her in the eyes; but Alice’s eyes dart, never meeting his. Not a surprise that today would become a bad one, that Alice can’t communicate right now.
(James was alone with her for too long; he hates himself for that. He’s terrified she’s been hurt in some way, that the damage is worse than being slathered in her maybe-friend’s blood. )
“Are you okay?”
As soon as the words are out, James slams into him from nowhere, and he can’t worry about Alice or Bella in that moment.
But all he can hear are Alice’s soft cries from where she’s standing in the corner.
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talking abt wigfrid and critisism but the further you go the less coherent it becomes. no i will NOT simplify it. read my flop analysis boy.
Something very interesting about Wigfrid that I don't really see in characterizations a lot is the concept of her having... I don't really know what to call it. Not 'a thinner skin', but I suppose the concept of her being wary of how people perceive her.
A lot of interpretations of Wig that I see tend not to go beyond the surface of her persona, that being a confident and overzealous warrior. And to an extent, that is what she is. But I also feel as though it's very important to her character to consider how she got to embracing that persona the way she has to begin with.
'Wigfrid' the actress- whoever she may have been- was clearly incredibly concerned with how she was perceived by others... Most of them being complete strangers to her- people who she'll never meet or get to know, who will never know her in turn. Hell, the opinions of those strangers were the driving force to her accepting Maxwell's deal to begin with! Yes, she wanted her popularity back, but were it not for the people who tore her down with their words alone, she never would have lost it to begin with!
I think the snake motif in Curtain Calls was a very interesting choice for Klei, if only because to me it feels deliberate. The giant serpent she fought within her fantasies manifested itself from her newspapers... The term 'snake' is frequently used to describe individuals who are deceitful and dishonest. To me it doesn't really feel like a coincidence that- of all the beasts, that is the one they choose. A creature who's very title is a double meaning, used to represent the critics who so viciously tear her down, fangs dripping with venomous lies that she can only fight against within the safety of her mind.
"Oh, Savvy-" I can hear you cry, "-Savvy, I think you're reaching a little bit here". Normally I would be inclined to agree. Very frequently I find myself grasping for straws to prop up Klei's otherwise sparse characterizations. However, if the snakes = liars = critics theory isn't enough on its own, I would also like to remind you of what happens after Wigfrid defeats the snake in Curtain Calls. She falls back into reality at the sound of a disembodied voice, and from the newspapers manifests a silhouette of Maxwell. A direct parallel to her fantasy, the news has yet again taken the image of a 'snake'... Of a deceiver. To me, that seems incredibly intentional.
NOT TO MENTION that if the theory is true that MAXWELL MADE UP THE NEWSPAPERS TO BEGIN WITH in an attempt to emotionally manipulate her, then the snake metaphor would make EVEN MORE SENSE because he is LITERALLY making himself tangible out of HIS OWN lies. but i'm NOT GETTING INTO THAT RABBIT HOLE right now because i'm ALREADY DIGRESSING!!!!!
So, now that we can ALL AGREE that Wigfrid's hatred of snakes stems from a bit of self projecting, we can bring up Wigfrid's current, in game hatred of snakes, and perhaps draw a couple of conclusions about how criticism may be effecting her now, as opposed to how it was pre-Constant:
Her unabashed hatred is visibly obvious. She goes about engaging with snakes in a VERY unique way she does the rest of her quarry. She takes great pleasure in their destruction, and goes so far as to label them her enemies, specifically. I looked it up, and as far as I can glean this wouldn't be a pre-establised trait of her persona. This vitriolic snake hatred is entirely stemming from the person underneath.
So. With the context we previously gathered that implies that maybe the reason she sees snakes in such a way is due to the fact that they are practically synonymous with critics and 'liars' to her, I can safely conclude that. um. No, I really do not think she has grown any more of a hide against criticism than she had before accepting Maxwell's deal.
Wigfrid's hatred of snakes was a big part of her character from even before Curtain Calls (obviously, bc shipwreck released way before her refresh did), but I feel like them taking this specific facet of her character- one that's lesser known from her, buried behind her more stereotypical motifs- and adding such important context to it was a intentional act. I refuse to think otherwise.
Even outside of the whole. Snake Thing I spent two hours describing, though. To me it still seems plausible for Wigfrid to act all tough, but take insults very poorly. Yes, in a prideful sort of way- where she feels the need to actively defend herself and her 'honor'- but also just in a... regular way. I don't think it'd show up much in the Constant because. i mean, there's more important things for the survivors to do. but i really do feel like scathing insults would bite her more than someone would expect it to.
Also I just think it would be funny and help flesh out her nuance. Is that a crime. To want to give my girl some nuance. Is that a sin.
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