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shihalyfie · 4 years ago

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Shounen anime character archetypes, and how the Adventure and 02 characters don’t entirely follow them

Adventure is a kids’ show, and so it’s only natural that its characters would have certain surface archetypes common to others in the genre, like “the impulsive leader” or “the cool-headed rival”...except it actually doesn’t, really! It was actually a deliberate decision to make the characters go against their archetypes, and even the ones that did toe closer to it still had a number of nuances that distinguished them greatly from what you would usually expect from these kinds of characters. A lot of this was a deliberate attempt to make the characters relatable, so that it would allow each and every one of them to have their own unique strengths that their usual archetypes wouldn’t generally allow them to.

To be clear: tropes are not a fundamentally bad thing, especially since fiction very much relies on them to communicate (Adventure and 02 sometimes being so contrary to media expectations that they often frustrated viewers for not apparently making sense), and moreover, there are tropes that still are very true to reality (for instance, although the archetype of the “crybaby child” wasn’t in this series, many people have stated that Tomoki in the significantly more conventional Frontier was no less a realistic representation of what a child his age might do in an unfamiliar world). It’s also quite foolhardy to claim that Adventure and 02 never indulged in tropes at all, of course. However, things that fall outside the conventional mold are much more difficult to find proper representations of, and there’s an unfortunate trend of many (especially those in the mainstream who don’t quite remember the series well, or mainstream press) often pigeonholing Adventure and 02′s characters back into those tropes because that’s what you’d normally expect of them, sometimes to the point of negatively comparing them to other things -- and that’s just something that really isn’t fair to the series!

Disclaimer: Note that the following post works first and foremost off of the original Japanese version, so if you’re coming purely from the American English dub, there may be some substantial differences in what’s described (most noticeably in regards to Mimi and Daisuke).

Taichi

While shounen media has been a lot more willing to change things up a lot since Adventure first aired in 1999, the general idea you get of a shounen protagonist is a hot-blooded one who charges recklessly into everything on impulse. Taichi definitely fits a handful of the traits on principle in that he’s a passionate sports boy, and one who takes an “action-first” philosophy and often acts on impulse, but there’s a lot��more nuance to that than you might expect.

Firstly, it would be very off to pigeonhole Taichi as the belligerent type to like fighting and to charge into everything thoughtlessly, because while Taichi does get cocky in the midst of battle while riding the adrenaline, he’s not the kind of person who likes fighting enemies just for the sheer sake of fighting and defeating them (and, in fact, it would probably be incorrect to say this about any Adventure or 02 character). As is pointed out by Koushirou even when Taichi is at one of his most haphazard and reckless in Adventure episode 16, Taichi’s actions are still always out of consideration for others, and he’s the kind of selfless person who in fact only hits his most reckless points when he’s cracking so much under the pressure of needing to do things for everyone’s sake that he even throws himself into the fray out of self-sacrifice. Even during the late points of the series in Adventure episode 45, he felt that the method of “pushing forward despite everything” was the best way to repay the sacrifices their Digimon friends had made for them -- he has a tendency to advocate for actively doing things because he firmly believes that sitting around doing nothing won’t solve anything, or would result in more victims. He has had introspective moments of weakness (see Adventure episodes 17, 20, 21, etc.), and it’s specifically because he has to reconcile the facts that he knows nothing good will come out of being a sitting duck, but he also has to figure out a way to do it that won’t accidentally cause collateral damage.

Taichi is “impulsive” in that he tends to play things by ear, but that doesn’t always mean he advocates for the most aggressive solution -- in fact, there are times where he’s often too chill and is picking the simplest and least complicated thing to do for now while he tries to figure it out later. Plus, it’s not like he recklessly charges into battle against everyone’s wishes -- the few incidents he does are explicitly marked as his moments of weakness, and in fact the reason he gets into conflicts with Yamato so much during the early part of the series is technically because he’s taking the time to argue back at him and try to make his point instead of just going ahead and doing it anyway.

Taichi doesn’t have that much of an ego! Adventure episode 28 reveals that he’d never even thought of himself as the group’s “leader” to begin with, nor did he necessarily think he should have the position (by all means, despite how unreliable he was at the start of the series, responsibility belonged to Jou as the oldest in the group). But Taichi has a remarkable knack for seeing things on the bird’s-eye view, and that’s what makes him suitable as a leader -- not in the traditional shounen sense of just aggressively pushing everyone forward into battle, but looking at the full picture and making judgment calls, delegating jobs, and bringing people together. It’s a much more true-to-life description of what a “leader” needs to be beyond what media (or even real life resources, honestly!) would usually suggest, and Taichi being someone naturally suited to this position encompasses most of his personality -- it unfortunately makes him not very good at seeing the little things in front of him, but he’s capable of assertively and firmly making decisions for the sake of everyone’s welfare.

And even when Taichi does hit the general shounen lead trope of being on the argumentative or irritable side, a lot of it has to do with the fact he’s a bit of a playful troll who doesn’t take things seriously enough, not that he’s brash and wants to start a fight -- he sometimes makes insensitive remarks because he was under the impression others shouldn’t be taking it so seriously (”it was just a joke!”), or he gets defensive when someone (usually Yamato) calls out his plan for not being that great. But on the flip side, the fact he treats people equivocally and without distant weirdness allows him to have a sense of charisma to bring people together (it’s the very reason Koushirou was willing to approach him to begin with), and because he has a priority of pushing everyone forward productively with a sense of firmness, he’s able to conclusively make judgments and decisions during times others would hesitate. Even if they turn out to not be great decisions in the end, they’re still decisions that he consciously thought through to at least some degree, made for the sake of helping everyone and pushing them forward.

Yamato

Yamato’s archetype is one that goes down to appearance -- the cool-looking, bishounen rival who advocates for a more “rational and cold” approach in contrast to the lead protagonist’s hot-bloodedness, who looks down on him for being stupid and irrational, and refuses to get near anyone due to looking down on them (or the concept of having friends in general). This is to the point where his own voice actor saw his design and immediately expected him to be this archetype to the point of worrying that he might not be able to pull off this role, only for himself to find out that Yamato is the exact opposite.

Yamato is, in fact, one of the most openly emotional and compassionate people in the entire original Adventure group, and given that Taichi is actually someone who often is too chill and doesn’t take things seriously enough, Yamato is actually the one who actively instigates fights with him and escalates things to physical levels, because he perceives Taichi as being inconsiderate. His first focus episode (Adventure episode 3) has him completely go off his rocker for Takeru’s safety, but while Takeru definitely elicits the most extreme reactions from him, he really does escalate fights immediately the moment he feels sufficiently offended on others’ behalf. So in other words, “rational and cold” are just around the last words you should be ever using for Yamato.

Moreover, what seems to be detachment from the others ends up ultimately just being a byproduct of awkwardness -- even as early as Adventure episodes 6 and 18, he had no problems openly laughing and smiling with the others, and it was just his prior lack of friends beforehand that made him unsure of how to open up to others. Adventure episode 51 has him directly say in words what his actual reasoning for his awkward behavior and friendless background was: it wasn’t that he didn’t want to be near others, he was just so obsessed with being independent and self-reliant that he felt that he shouldn’t be dependent on others. He liked others’ company, and he didn’t look down on them at all -- he cared a lot about the others’ welfare, he was just averse to the idea of actually being emotionally dependent on others, until he was able to be snapped out of that mindset and able to understand that relying on others doesn’t indicate a personal failing.

These kinds of characters usually are fueled by some kind of pride or condescension, but in fact Yamato doesn’t have that at all (in fact, you could more accurately say that it’s insecurity more than anything). Even when he openly breaks down into a crying mess in front of everyone (he has the highest cry count in Adventure, at that!), he doesn’t seem to have any shame about having exposed some of the rawest parts of himself to the others -- think about how this archetype would usually get embarrassed about people finding out they’re “soft” -- and there’s no evidence that he has any sense of superiority whatsoever.

By the time of 02, since he’s portrayed as having become openly sociable and cheerful, for all intents and purposes, the only thing he has left in common with the archetype is just the fact he seems to be really into a sort of edgy aesthetic. Otherwise, he’s just as emotional as ever, makes even some of the funniest facial expressions in 02, is on fantastic terms with Taichi (it is very important that the single punch he lands on him is purely in a sense to snap him out of it and not made out of anger or condescension), and, really, if you want to say that he has a responsibility of reining Taichi in, considering Taichi’s penchant for being a little too assertive about his decisions, it’s just in the sense of lightly reminding him not to get too ahead of himself, which is not any worse than keeping an eye on a cat with a track record of getting into willful trouble. This is especially because, after all, Yamato is someone who has compassion for others’ welfare and feelings -- and that includes Taichi, too.

Sora

This kind of character is usually thought of as the “badass action girl”, especially since Sora is established as also being rather physically active much like Taichi, but one thing that often comes with this sort of character is that they often “have it together” all of the time and are seemingly implacable in personality. Adventure goes out of its way to indicate, even as early as episode 3, that while it is true that Sora has it together and is capable of pulling her own weight, she is also not a saint -- that is to say, she’s capable of having moments of pettiness, poor judgment, or irrationality like any other flawed human being. In fact, her first focus episode (Adventure episode 4) has her outright look down on Piyomon for being, in her mind, overly mushy and clingy and not really up for the job of protecting her, only to be proven very wrong at the end of the episode.

One thing Adventure and 02 don’t shy away from is the concept of “selflessness to the point of self-destruction” -- it’s good to be kind and considerate, but at what point are you doing so much for other people that you’re not properly taking care of yourself? In Sora’s case, the problem is defined as compulsive -- even when, in Adventure episode 26, she claims herself to be an inconsiderate person who doesn’t care about anyone and is incapable of love or affection, it’s revealed that, despite consciously thinking that, she’d still gone out of her way to help everyone behind the scenes in the last few episodes because she still couldn’t stop wanting to help people. Even her own flashbacks (and rather inaccurate testimony) about her past with her mother have a constant thread of her working for others’ sake more than she’s doing anything for herself.

In other words, being this image of a perfect, well-behaved, reliable person whom everyone can depend on no matter what is actually pretty unhealthy for her, because she’s capable of cracking under the pressure and not being allowed to be, well, a normal human being once in a while. Being that sort of person requires constantly catering to obligations (real or perceived) to others, which she’s unfortunately capable of falling so deeply in and not thinking of herself at all to the point she gets self-destructive. Because her problem with this is so bad, Jou and Yamato reaching out to her in Adventure episode 51 literally just involves reminding her about the sheer concept of personal will and volition, because without that, she’d basically considered herself a piece of the situation who does everything she does because that’s what she has to do.

And yes, indeed, a “lead” female character in this position would usually be played up heavily with the main lead male character, because media traditionally loves to hint that the sheer existence of a male and female lead with any kind of relationship whatsoever means that they have to be fated to be in love, but given the philosophy of not wanting to apply tropes unless there’s an in-universe rationale for it (of which “pairing the main male and female leads” is directly cited as one potential such trope), it is true that just because Sora knew Taichi from the soccer club and is usually the first-listed female character in Adventure doesn’t really necessarily indicate she should be obligated to fall head over heels in love with him (especially because they don’t interact nearly as much as you’d expect two characters with that kind of backstory to, and Koushirou, who’s also from the same club, hangs with him much more prominently) -- and in fact, when the issue of her love life does come up in 02, it’s treated as a very non-dramatic issue that becomes a background element of the narrative, which is not how you’d usually see the issue of romance or a love life usually treated in the kind of media that loves to bring that front and center most of the time. While the fanbase loves to treat it like it was some kind of love triangle, that kind of reading actually requires an extra dose of interpretation from a very ambiguously portrayed situation that ultimately isn’t given much fanfare by even the characters in-universe, because, really, two fourteen-year-olds dating is...rather commonplace and not actually that big of a deal, especially when compared to something like preventing monsters from blowing up the city.

Koushirou

Adventure actually has two plays on the traditional “nerd” character, separating the archetype into one who’s good with data and random trivial information (Koushirou) and one who’s good at rote memorization and doing practical calculations that are good for school environments (Jou). So already, there’s a bit of subtle nuance in the fact it makes this distinction at all, in that there are different ways to be “smart” -- Koushirou’s depth of knowledge is significantly less practically applicable than Jou’s in most ordinary situations and isn’t tailored well to institutional expectations like school and exams, but he has a much wider range of things he knows about and ends up more directly pertinent in regards to his knowledge about computers and data analysis.

In any case, a “smart” character would often have an angle of being condescending, i.e. lording over others that they know so much more than them and knowingly being showoffs as a result, or actively disliking people and considering machines to be superior. In the case of Koushirou, however, it’s established that while he does have a certain level of intimidation around other people and find himself more comfortable around his computer, and while he can get absorbed in gathering information or rambling off about things because he’s passionate about it, he doesn’t actively dislike nor look down on others (rather, he’s actively intimidated by them, according to Adventure episode 38), and he states outright in Adventure episode 10 that he doesn’t want to spurn Mimi nor does he care about his computer more than he cares about others, he just genuinely thinks that what he’s doing right now will benefit even Mimi in the long run, too.

Koushirou may not be experienced in dealing with other people and may be a bit uncomfortable in high-pressure social situations, but at his core he’s a very kind and compassionate person who cares about others! The fact he’s constantly polite to others isn’t just out of awkwardness, but also out of a genuine desire to keep courtesy and distance, and as the series goes on it turns out he really is as polite and humble as he sounds -- he’s doing it because he’s shy, not because he considers himself above the others, and by Adventure episodes 38 and 54 he says that he would like to be able to speak more casually and be closer to others, it’s just that it’s going to take some time for him to do so. And even if he does mess up a social situation, if he’s informed he’s messed up, he’s easily capable of taking this to heart and trying to do better (which makes up all of Adventure episode 10 when he eventually realizes he went too far with Mimi). Just because he may not be fantastic at handling the fallout doesn’t mean he doesn’t fundamentally care or want to minimize harm to others. Not only that, he’s also one of the youngest in this group, and for all it’s worth, he shows every indication of being properly respectful of his elders from his position.

Moreover, while Koushirou is so heavily associated with his computer, the series doesn’t take long to establish that the computer really is not the focal part of his character as much as it’s the concept of “gathering and analyzing information”. However much knowledge Koushirou had gained prior to the series, and whatever tech skills Koushirou may or may not have (if you look closely, his tech feats aren’t actually that impressive within the scope of Adventure and 02, and a lot of what he does in terms of tech feats is heavily outsourced), are considered relatively unimportant in comparison to his actual attitude about it, which is that he never stops wanting to learn more or dig deeper into things whenever something’s piqued his curiosity. The conflict in Adventure episode 24 that establishes the true, functional meaning of the Crest of Knowledge has very little to do with computers at all, but rather Koushirou insatiably pursuing more about the Digital World itself and Gennai, and, really, the topic could be anything as long as it’s new and interesting -- it’s just that computers (especially ones connected to the Internet) are a convenient place to gather and analyze different kinds of information, and the Digital World happens to be an absolute treasure trove of new things to discover.

In other words, Koushirou knows a lot of things not because it gives him some status of superiority over others for being “smart”, but rather because he’s genuinely passionate about exploring and learning about things, and you can also see it in the difference between the way he approaches “gathering” information versus “disclosing” information. During times he’s focused on gathering or analyzing information, he focuses on it and tends to shut others out because he wants to make sure he’s uninterrupted and can get every little detail out of it, and whenever he’s talking to himself, others might sometimes get lost in his rambling, but whenever he’s put in a situation where it’s of importance that he explain to others (examples being Adventure episodes 19, 28, and 42), he clarifies when people have questions, sometimes checks to make sure everyone’s still following, and, in general, has no sense of condescension about the fact he knows more than them, with the implication that wants the others to be able to understand and appreciate the information he’s passionate about.

Koushirou is also one of the most visible seniors in 02, because as someone whose defining trait was “curiosity and inquisitiveness”, it stands to reason that he’d be the one most curious about what his juniors are getting involved with, what’s going on with the Digital World, and anything else to do with it (hence why he occasionally asks his juniors to test things for him, such as in 02 episode 17, and hauls himself all the way down to Tamachi to pick Ken’s brain about anything he knows in 02 episode 33). Again, like in Adventure, his character portrayal actually has very little to do with computers, despite what the imagery and archetype would suggest -- it’s more about how he’s now become able to take a leadership role like that of the computer club and start coordinating and organizing people to be able to figure out even more things, while also being able to personally unravel more of the mysteries behind the Digital World and the story itself.

Mimi

Coming from a background of being a bit pampered and spoiled, Mimi aligns a bit to the “pretty girl” archetype that generally has a few things associated with it -- someone who might be a bit materialistic or fixated on appearances, and someone who’s a bit condescending or high-horse in compared to others. So it’s interesting that Mimi is actually portrayed as, for the most part, not that absorbed about appearances or materialism (it’s not to say she doesn’t care at all, but any references she makes to appearance are vanishingly rare in the series, and she’s even willing to warm up to the Numemon or Scumon/Chuumon and not hold grudges against them), and in fact all of her “complaints” that she makes in the early parts of the series are meant to be in line with what an average child would have in her situation. Complaints like “I don’t like this” in reaction to little things like having to get dirty or endure something tiring aren’t complaints she makes because she looks down on it as much as she’s just had a very sheltered upbringing that hadn’t involved a lot of hardship, so now that she has to grit her teeth and go through a lot of difficult things, she simply has low tolerance and high sensitivity and is having difficulty coping.

Beyond that, Mimi is consistently portrayed as likeable and devoid of malice or condescension towards anyone -- so much to the point that even at the beginning of the series, she saw no reason to look down on Koushirou or make fun of him when her classmates did, because she didn’t see why she should. Mimi is said to be someone who is so naturally likeable that she has no problems making friends with anyone, which is why she’s the one who’s able to gather together allies at the end of Adventure -- because she lacks condescension or malice, and is compassionate enough to never get on the wrong foot with anyone, everyone ends up able to get along with her with no problem. As one of the youngest in the group, she’s polite to her elders and uses proper honorifics on everyone, and moreover any lashing out she does is purely defensive and not aggressive towards others. She lashes out because she doesn’t like herself or her friends being hurt, but otherwise she doesn’t care to do anything cold or rude towards others, nor have a grudge; her first focus episode (Adventure episode 6) involved her having absolutely nothing but "they don't seem like they're having fun" towards everyone making fools of themselves in front of her, and she even goes as far as to outright call them her “friends” at a time in the series when everyone barely knew each other! This is also why 02 depicts her as having already made a ton of friends in America (such as Michael, or the attendees of the huge party in 02 episode 14) despite having been there for only a year; she’s that likeable to the point she can get along with people from even an entirely different country easily.

Mimi is “extremely empathetic”, which means that she won’t cause harm or pain to others because she herself feels their pain when they’re in trouble or hurt -- the closest she got to being on a power trip was her “princess” mental health crash in Adventure episode 25, which almost immediately led to her having nightmares about everyone feeling betrayed and potentially hating her and turning around in less than one night. Hence, she won’t do anything to hurt others’ feelings, because she herself feels hurt if she does. However, that means that once the Dark Masters arc kicks in and many of their friends are hurt and killed in the process, her feeling every bit of that makes her the first to take it the hardest and become unable to fight (and, by extension, is very tied to that “extra sensitivity” that made her so sensitive to pain or unpleasant experiences at the beginning of the series). Mimi is consistently portrayed as a pacifist, and while many other shounen battle series would portray this as a weakness, Adventure episode 50 establishes that while it of course isn’t good for her to sit around doing nothing, it would be inhumane to force Mimi to personally participate in something that causes her so much pain, and instead may be better channeling her abilities to bring people together by amassing allies and contributing to the struggle in other ways. While Mimi does eventually get herself together enough to participate in the direct fighting in Adventure and 02, she never gets portrayed as someone who enjoys it for the sake of it besides the end goal of protecting others, and in 02 her ability to bring people together and not hold grudges is a much more significant influence on her juniors (especially Miyako).

As a side point, this kind of “pretty girl” character is often also stereotyped as being rather lacking in common sense or airheaded, but while Mimi certainly isn’t the paragon of intellectuality compared to some of the others in the group, she’s never portrayed as particularly lacking in common sense, and in fact her sense of empathy and sensitivity makes her very able to “read the room” and say things or act in ways that are in fact extremely helpful to others. “Emotional intelligence” is a fairly prominent character trait for many characters in Adventure and 02 (particularly in regards to Digimon partners), and, especially in a narrative where the characters are dealing with a lot of stress and emotional issues, is no less important of a role in terms of figuring out what’s going on and figuring out the best possible solution for everyone going forward.

Jou

Jou’s got two archetypes going on here: one being the “studious nerd” type (touched on earlier in Koushirou’s section), and one as “the oldest and therefore most responsible” -- except we quickly find out that Jou is extremely stress-prone, often high-strung, and not particularly put-together (especially because, as it turns out, he’s actually the youngest of his own siblings, meaning he’s not particularly used to being in the role of the oldest). Nevertheless, he takes his role as the oldest very seriously, but the way it’s played is interesting: while he initially seems like the type to hold his position as “the oldest” over everyone and act as if they’re obligated to treat him with respect, Jou actually doesn’t have any indication of caring that much about status or esteem as much as he considers himself obligated to fulfill the role of the oldest and take care of everyone. Hence, why he’s willing to even throw himself recklessly on a Unimon in Adventure episode 7 -- he’s a very selfless person whose main drive is to protect others and help people more than he cares about his own status.

That extends to his role as a “studious” person too -- someone like him who comes from an “elite” family of doctors would often be portrayed as someone who themself cares about the prestige and honor of being a doctor, or at least is proud of being an honor student over everyone else, but there’s no indication in Adventure or 02 that Jou has any interest in the act of studying itself or the status that comes with it as much as he considers it part of a “comfortable routine” that’s integrated into his life, especially compared to the stress of being in an unknown world (Adventure episode 6 even has him preface his statement with “don’t laugh at me,” acknowledging how unusual it would normally be to miss something like studying). Adventure episode 35 has him be mostly rather unfazed about getting a bad grade, past an initial (understandable) bout of disappointment, hinting that this whole affair is actually him going through the motions moreso than he has any real attachment to this lifestyle. Jou doesn’t have a condescending bone in his body, and in fact a lot of his behavior has heavily to do with high stress and a feeling of obligation to help others.

Eventually, via his brother Shin, Adventure episode 38 clarifies the reason for Jou’s behavior of being the “studious type” yet also not really being into it all that much -- Jou’s doing this out of his obligation to his family more than he even personally cares about it, and the “elite” track of being a doctor was never something he personally wanted as much as something his father wanted of him. So in other words, Jou had no personal investment in status and thus can’t be motivated to do something with passion unless it’s something he personally has a reason for wanting to do. He certainly was very motivated to throw himself recklessly into situations where he could sacrifices himself for others in Adventure episodes 7, 23, and 36, because it was a no-brainer that he wanted to help people, but something like the status of becoming a respected member of society is comparatively nebulous and vague to him, especially since, as per Adventure episode 38, he has a phobia of blood that makes the profession outright uncomfortable to him.

Because Jou is the kind of person who wants to do his best for others’ sake and help others, it’s only when he rationalizes that with his father’s desire for him to be a doctor that he’s able to form a desire for it -- namely, the Dark Masters arc has him witness pain and death, and combined with him outright coming to terms with the fact that he's not that great at fighting to begin with (in Adventure episode 50), he decides that the Digital World is rather lacking in healers and that he needs to be there for them. Hence, why his goal to become a doctor is still “unexpected” in its own way, because he’s not doing it for the status of becoming an “elite” doctor the way his father wants him to, but rather one specialized in helping the denizens of the fantasy world that society isn’t all that aware of. It’s also why, in 02, he seems to be fairly unfazed by the prospect of having to temporarily ditch his studies in order to get Gomamon or his juniors out of a pinch -- because if he allowed there to be casualties on his road to becoming someone who can help people, that’d be pretty hypocritical.

Takeru

The “designated kid character” usually manifests in one of two ways: one who’s an immature brat who often causes a lot of trouble, or one who’s much weaker than the others and holds the others back from constantly being emotionally overwhelmed. While neither of these are really things you can blame a child for being at this kind of age for being (especially in such a stressful situation), Takeru is nevertheless neither. Mainstream media, and sometimes even people in the fanbase itself, will talk about him being a “crybaby”, but Takeru’s moments of breaking down into tears or having extreme emotional reactions in Adventure are actually quite uncommon (Yamato’s moments of such outstrip his by a landslide, and almost all of the situations Takeru ends up that way aren’t particularly more unusual than any of the other characters in this cast, especially Mimi).

In truth, Adventure episode 43 makes it clear that Takeru detests the idea of being a “ball and chain” holding everyone back, so, as a result, he’s going out of his way to be “put-together and well-behaved” -- hence, why he, as one of the youngest, keeps on his best behavior in front of his elders and has a constant sense of responsibility. Moreover, there are multiple indications that he’s covering up his own emotions to unhealthy extents as part of his attempt to be so “put-together” -- he has moments where it’s obvious he’s thinking about the impact of his parents’ divorce (a freeze-frame in Adventure episode 3, his reminiscence in Adventure episode 12, or his talk about dislike of “family” getting separated in Adventure episode 26), but constantly tries to veer away from the topic or even lie about it (see Adventure episode 12 where he basically pretends he doesn’t remember anything at all about his young childhood despite the fact that we as the audience are shown that he very much did).

The fact that 02′s incarnation of Takeru has him show a lot more viciously negative sides of himself may catch one off-guard, and it’s sometimes been said by observers that he seems to have taken a mysteriously nasty turn in his personality, but, in fact, Takeru’s habit of being dishonest about and hiding a lot of negative emotions had existed as early as Adventure -- observe him blowing a complete irrational fuse at the well-meaning Tokomon/Patamon in Adventure episodes 22 and 33, just because things had hit him a little too closely (the latter episode is especially notable because Patamon’s statement had been completely innocuous for the most part, only for Takeru to suddenly get angry at him). Such a thing isn’t something you would have expected from an eight-year-old child, given that the archetype is usually portrayed as “innocent”, but it had remained largely unaddressed by the end of Adventure, and it’s only natural it would have gotten worse over the three years in between Adventure and 02, especially as Takeru became older and more independent. When Iori points out the strange “duality” between the kind and cold sides of Takeru in 02 episode 34, he’s really just directly stating what had been going on since the very first episode of Adventure.

That said, it’s also not like Takeru’s trying to be dishonest or guilty of subterfuge -- it’s just that his coping mechanisms are very poorly developed and that he’s constantly trying to keep the peace and come off as pleasant while suppressing all of his negative emotions under a smile, only for things like anger and personal grudge to explode all at once at inopportune times (his punching of the Kaiser in 02 episode 19 being the most famous, but you can see traces of it emerging even beforehand in 02 episodes 11 and 13 whenever things get a bit too personal, to the point it almost jeopardizes his ability to help Hikari in the latter). Hence, why the positive development for Takeru by the end of 02 involves him becoming someone who’s better able to express his thoughts and feelings with the help of Iori, who, despite being younger than him, is also significantly more blunt and straightforward.

Hikari

Being tied to a Crest that’s linked to “life itself”, Hikari comes off as the sort of saintlike figure who has purity of heart all the way through and has nothing but peaceful thoughts about everything. However, a lot of her appearances in Adventure were heavily impacted by context -- other than the fact she was sometimes held back by illness, Hikari was otherwise portrayed as an ordinary playful and cheerful young girl, and there are multiple layers to her character added or enhanced in 02 that indicate that she’s not quite the saint that her archetype would suggest.

For one, like with Sora, we again see how “excessive selflessness” can actually lead to self-destruction if left unchecked: Taichi states outright in Adventure episode 48 that Hikari’s penchant for putting others before herself means that she won’t do anything for herself even if it results in self-harm. Hikari herself confirms this in 02 episode 31, stating outright that she compulsively cannot express her own feelings even if she wants to, to the point she’s outright jealous of Miyako for being able to do so. Because she’s so inclined to not burden others and to work for others’ sake instead, when something bad is about to happen to her and only her, such as the Dark Ocean-related incidents, she can’t bring herself to do anything and is forced to either rely on others’ help or simply resign herself to her fate.

That said, Hikari is also not characterized as someone who’s passive in general; because this passivity is tied to “excessive selflessness”, anytime the issue has to do with anyone else’s sake, she doesn’t hesitate and will even be firm in taking a stand. She’s so assertive that she even momentarily freaks Miyako out in 02 episode 18! In the end, it’s a textbook case of “it’s easier to do it when it’s for other people, but harder to do it when it’s for yourself, especially when doing it for yourself means bothering others,” and this is also something that had dated back as early as Adventure, when she’d made a lot of fairly independent decisions about things she felt strongly needed to be done, like giving herself up for everyone's sake in Adventure episode 36 (very much against her friends' will), or standing up for the Numemon in Adventure episode 49, or even being much quicker to accept the inevitable need to kill an enemy than the emotionally wrecked Miyako in 02 episode 44, because they’re all things she truly and strongly felt needed to be done for the sake of others.

Plus, it’s also not like Hikari’s such a pure-hearted, saintlike person who can do no wrong even at the base level -- 02 episode 6 indicates that she’s not above toying with Daisuke’s feelings for her in order to get what she wants, and in general, the fact she’s aware he likes her but isn’t doing anything about it has both the nuances that she probably doesn’t want to hurt his feelings but is also capable of exploiting an extra level of leverage over him as well. The fact that Hikari is seen as “charming” gives her a certain degree of power of persuasion to get her way, and it seems she’s quite well aware of it...

As the younger sister of Adventure’s lead protagonist, Hikari’s often also stigmatized as having some kind of unhealthy fixation on her brother, or a brother complex (also a rather common anime trope among “younger sister” characters), but this kind of reading requires a huge amount of exaggeration and extracting the relevant lines out of context; at no point in Adventure or 02 is Taichi and Hikari’s relationship portrayed as particularly unusual relative to a reasonable level of concern a pair of siblings that get along should have, especially since any behavior that is particularly notable or unusual or dependent is strongly contextualized as having to do with the above issues regarding Hikari being potentially self-destructive if left to her own devices, and how both Taichi and Hikari react to it (hence why the problem is ultimately addressed most effectively by Miyako, who has no real personal stake in the siblings’ relationship).

Daisuke

Daisuke has been stated outright by Adventure and 02′s director Kakudou to have “the most anime-like personality”, and it is true that even going beyond his base profile, a lot of his characteristics are much closer to that of an idealistic shounen anime protagonist than Taichi’s are, including (as the article in question points out) that he’s a lot more “hot-blooded” on principle but suddenly loses his head when around a girl he likes. Past that, however, there’s a lot of depth going on that reveals that Daisuke is in fact quite the deceptive character.

The first thing you might realize after watching Daisuke closely enough is that while he may initially seem aggressive, he’s actually not very assertive or aggressive at all, especially in the earlier parts of the series. It's very common for the others to shut him down or overturn his opinions in the earlier parts of the series, no matter how much he may ostensibly seem argumentative about it -- he very quickly backs down, at worst seeming a bit irritated, or even going into full-on disappointment with “Oh...okay...” Hence, why Kakudou refers to him as being “prevented from doing very much in the first half,” because for the most part a lot of the decisions made by the group in said first half are made by the entire group in agreement more than they’re made by him specifically, and becoming someone who can make more firm statements is a major point of his growth throughout the series. The first major moment he’s able to do such a thing is 02 episode 20, where, despite everyone’s opposition, he continues to assertively put his foot down that he doesn’t want to pull back when doing so could result in more victims -- and that ultimately becomes the start of him starting to be more confident about doing things even when others disagree with him. Even when he does become more assertive, at no point is Daisuke ever said, in-universe, to be the “leader” of the 02 group as much as he’s simply the one giving them the drive to move forward while they all work things out as a group.

Beyond that, another point that comes out of this is that Daisuke is actually a very deeply emotional person, which means that he has very strong emotions in every direction, including those of empathy and kindness. In fact, similarly to Mimi, Daisuke’s “abrasiveness” and “lashing out” are more defensive than him ever going on the attack, since he usually does this when he feels like he’s being put on the spot, or insulted, or is suspicious. There’s a reason I like to compare him to a puppy with a louder bark than its bite -- said puppy might bark at anything it doesn’t like or understand, or get pouty and offended at times, but also will immediately switch to open adoration or genuinely wanting to make you happy, and that’s also Daisuke in a nutshell. You may notice that he never, ever says anything condescending towards others nor does he dunk on them without reason, and 02 episode 7 indicates that if he realizes he’s stepped over the line, he won’t hesitate to apologize -- something that Taichi, who often veered into the insensitive, was rather bad at doing. Moreover, whenever something deeply hurts him, he also becomes genuinely, truly upset about it -- see him openly weeping over Wallace’s problems in Hurricane Touchdown despite having just met and bickered with him, and him being very audibly on the verge of tears during the situations in 02 episodes 20, 26, and 43 (Kiuchi Reiko’s acting especially brings this out). He’s a dramatic person with an extreme emotional reaction to everything, and that often means blowing small things out of proportion, but it also means that he really, truly does feel for others and care about things with large stakes.

In addition, someone who’s this sort of “hot-blooded” would usually also be portrayed as self-absorbed and arrogant, but Daisuke reveals as early as 02 episode 8 that he’s actually extremely humble -- he knows when he’s out of depth, acknowledges when others are better than him (such as knowing even from the very beginning that he was likely to lose against Ken and the Tamachi team), and actually just enjoys being around others on sheer principle. Read between the lines and you’ll realize that a lot of his behavior actually comes not from arrogance but rather insecurity -- he doesn’t expect anyone to adore or respect him, rather, he ends up running himself in circles trying to impress others (especially Hikari) because he wants the validation of them considering him cool. Hence why he never looks down on anyone nor insults anyone, because he’s much more confident in their awesomeness, and every time he’s around elders or respected seniors, he immediately takes a much more well-behaved and respectful tone in general. For all it’s worth, he’s a pretty deferential person, and has a genuine appreciation for even the little things in life, which is why he’s okay with running a ramen cart in the future -- sure, it’s not super-flashy as a career, but it makes him happy, and that’s all he wants.

So in other words, Daisuke likes people, and he likes his friends a lot; it’s just that his tendency to need validation from others, combined with his emotional tendencies to get really dramatic about everything, makes for a surface temperament where this isn’t immediately apparent. Even his original motivation for fighting comes not from liking fighting, but from his frustration that he wasn’t strong enough to protect others three years prior (also reiterated in the Adventure novels). In the end, pretty much everything he does comes from a desire to protect others and help them, which means that he of course resents those who hurt others, and it’s why he takes Ken exploiting his otherwise admirable abilities for harmful purposes so personally in 02 episode 8. Hence why Kakudou described him as having no evil in him, and that “the only thing bad about him is his head” (i.e. he’s not very smart) -- because once you get past the initial abrasiveness, he’s extremely friendly, all-loving, and loyal, and he isn’t malicious nor does he hold significant grudges.

Even Daisuke’s penchant for being “an idiot” is played a bit differently from the usual, because it’s consistently shown to be a byproduct of the fact that he’s “simple-minded” and doesn’t do well with complex thinking or overthinking, which, in many ways, is an asset as much as it’s a drawback. It means that he doesn’t do well with complex problems and isn’t very intellectual, and it also means that he gets overly suspicious at things that aren’t what they seem or aren’t being straightforward (which is why he initially gets so antsy around Takeru and Wallace, especially the latter, whom he was suspicious of before he started flirting). But it also means that he won’t easily get distracted by platitudes or overthinking, which, during situations where the simplest answer is the correct one, will sometimes conversely result in him being the smartest person in the room. Being so simple-minded gives him a certain degree of pragmatism; while everyone else is getting caught up in moralistic issues of forgiveness or non-forgiveness, Daisuke, who doesn’t get hung up on things like grudges, becomes the most open-minded towards Ken because he practically observes that Ken is not causing problems anymore and thus should be allowed to take responsibility for his mistakes, and also successfully dissuades Ken from recklessly throwing away his life in 02 episode 26 because, as “symbolic” as that kind of penance might be, it’s also very unproductive and will make things worse for everyone. It’s also why he’s one of the first to emotionally come to terms with the potential necessity for killing enemies in 02 episodes 25 and 43; it’s not like he enjoys it, but he’s the first to point out that if they hadn’t done it, even more victims would have been taken.

And as for Daisuke’s interest in Hikari: it’s basically there as a character note as to how Daisuke will completely lose his brain cells and bend over backwards when he’s trying to impress someone he has on a pedestal, and it becomes completely irrelevant to the plot and not even brought up after 02 episode 35, so while it’s not something that vanished completely (especially since it makes a return in post-02 material), it’s also treated as an example of one the many weird hangups that Daisuke will put aside when other things become more important, and an ultimately fairly shallow thing that he hasn’t thought through very clearly (he never directly asks Hikari out nor verbally expresses having a particular crush on her at any point in the series because he’s so wishy-washy about it, which is why she’s so easily able to dodge it), rather than a guiding part of the narrative or his character.

Interestingly, Daisuke’s unusual position as a shounen lead is hinted at even in franchise meta; you might notice he’s the only lead Digimon protagonist to be so heavily associated with blue instead of the warm colors of orange or red, and when you think about it, despite having Taichi’s goggles and supposedly having the “hot-blooded” personality, you could draw just as many parallels between him and Yamato, who’s also friendly behind all of the initial awkwardness and is also a passionately emotional person.

Ken

Really, the single most unusual thing about Ken’s character and his character arc is the fact that such a plotline even exists in the first place. How many series would take the main antagonist of the first half (not an underling, but the actual primary antagonist) and not only reform them but also turn them into the best friend of the protagonist for the second half? And not even in a “begrudging edgelord rival” sense, but legitimately the person who becomes a straightforward best friend with no standoffishness and full-on social-life supportiveness to the protagonist?

In any case, the entire concept of the Kaiser and his story is unusual even from the get-go -- we’re initially introduced to him as an “evil genius”, which is a common villain archetype because it’s very terrifying to have an enemy who’s one step ahead of you, but the Kaiser ends up being rather pathetic -- he’s constantly losing territory to a group of elementary school students, his “tactical abilities” have no real sense of scale beyond a soccer field sort of affair, he’s incredibly petty and will make irrational decisions just because his pride was wounded (see 02 episode 8), and seems to have no real long-term goal besides conquest for the sake of it. Eventually, 02 episode 20-21 reveals that he’d been doing this entire thing because he’d thought the entire thing was a game -- in short, he wasn’t taking this seriously at all, and the entire affair had been tantamount to an eleven-year-old throwing a tantrum.

The point being made here is that the facade of the so-called “evil genius” is significantly less brilliant than it’s made out to be, and, actually, when you think about it, Ken’s initial reformation is mostly kickstarted by himself and Wormmon moreso than it is the other Chosen Children, because while they’re there to drive the nail in, Ken had already been emotionally falling apart and realizing he wasn’t cut out for this for the entirety of the last handful of episodes, and it was ultimately his own realization and mental breakdown that did the honors -- the other kids were really mostly doing cleanup duty at the time, and Daisuke’s influence on him is more important to his process of healing than it was the initial calling it quits. Moreover, as we get to see Ken more in his proper element in the latter half of the series, it becomes apparent that the “true personality” of Ken is actually the more assertive, level-headed one, whereas the Kaiser was the childish and fragile facade; Ken is significantly more comfortable being in his normal element to begin with, and he’s not standoffish or edgy because he doesn’t even like being condescending. If anything, the Kaiser was a manifestation of him forcing himself into an uncomfortable mold in an attempt to emulate his brother, so of course he isn’t going to feel comfortable doing that once all is said and done.

While Ken in the second half does initially express some traits that can be misconstrued as standoffishness, because he’s significantly more level-headed and assertive in this state, it becomes clear that he’s not doing this because he looks down on the others or anything; it’s just that he has very strong opinions on what he thinks needs to be done, and he doesn’t hesitate to explain why he feels this way when he’s asked (he says outright in 02 episode 25 that he believes they shouldn’t be responsible for cleaning up his mess). 02 takes a stance of favoring the concept of “taking responsibility for one’s mistakes” over “penance and punishment”, so even though Ken himself does have moments of devaluing his own life due to his sins (such as in 02 episode 26), ultimately, he states that his primary goal is to fix the mess he started, and he’s not averse to working with the others for the sake of that goal. If he does initially push the others away, it’s simply because he thinks he’s burdening them too (and, likely, that he doesn’t feel he has the right to be around them), but even when he’s at his most irrational about this in 02 episode 30, he turns out to be fairly capable of being reasoned with in pretty short order. So he’s not standoffish or “edgy” just for the sheer sake of it nor for drama, and it’s why he ends up on a very conciliatory relationship with Daisuke and the others by the end of the series, with very little, if at all, in common with the usual “rival” archetype you’d expect in this kind of series.

Considering that Ken is characterized as “kind” and “soft”, it’s easy to not realize that he’s actually one of the most assertive people in the group, and more so than Daisuke (note that he never seems to be all that easily intimidated even when the universe seems out to get him, and in 02 episode 29 he even offers to do the “dirty work” of potentially having to kill an enemy in lieu of the other kids if push comes to shove because he knows they’re uncomfortable with it). Although the issue of the Dark Seed makes it ambiguous as to how much of his turn into the Kaiser was supernatural interference and how much of it was himself, either way, the series doesn’t try to absolve Ken of his sins just because there was something extra pushing him over the edge -- again, the series operates less on “fault” than it does “responsibility” -- and when you look at these kinds of traits, you realize that the Kaiser existed because Ken had always been capable of this kind of aggressiveness, he just doesn’t do it because he doesn’t want to unless it’s necessary, nor does he like it. It’s also why he banters so playfully with Daisuke in most post-02 material -- like many of the other characters in this narrative, being “soft and kind” doesn’t mean he’s necessarily a saint, he’s just someone who willfully chooses to be a good person for the most part.

Miyako

Miyako is a character who has a lot going on with her at once, having a ton of traits that you normally wouldn’t see combined into one character because they usually occupy separate archetypes (and, in a textbook case of reality being a lot less clear-cut than fiction, she’s the one character out of this group said explicitly to be based off a specific person). The fact she’s outwardly aggressive may make you think of the “badass action girl” type, but she’s also the kind who gushes over hot guys and fits the stereotypes of the “materialistic girly-girl”, and on top of that she’s a computer specialist working under Koushirou who begs the image of a “nerd girl”, and, unlike all of these archetypes, she’s a rather sloppy mess of a person who ends up loudly running her mouth, being prone to panic, and spitting out the first thing on her mind without restraint. On top of that, these traits tend to mix easily, so as much as she’s in-your-face about trying to physically fight things, she’s also the kind who’ll aggressively hug or dote on anyone she likes (which is a lot of people). Miyako is closer to the shounen brash hero archetype than even Taichi or Daisuke are, and yet is also closer to the “materialistic girly-girl” archetype than Mimi is at the same time.

Much like Koushirou, the part about being good with computers is much less of a prominent part of her character arc than you might initially think -- she herself doesn’t actually bring it up much during the course of the series, and, much like computers are an outlet for Koushirou to follow his thirst for knowledge and insatiable curiosity, Miyako’s connections with computers and tech have a lot to do with how she constantly goes out of her way to be helpful to others, such as being helpful to Koushirou as his junior, or helping out Iori’s mother with their computer (02 episode 1), or helping Yamato’s band (02 episode 29), or getting to do something helpful for the group in general (Diablomon Strikes Back). She’s not particularly show-offy or even all that fixated the actual subject as much as she’s proud of the fact she got to do something helpful and useful, and it ties deeply into her personal struggle with how to be capable of doing good for others when she’s actually not the striking image of a mature, put-together person who would usually be good at that kind of thing.

Miyako is consistently portrayed as having a complex about her “aggressive” tendencies -- she negatively compares herself to Mimi (02 episode 14) and Hikari (02 episode 31), on the grounds that she’s less put-together and more insensitive than them, and labels herself a “bad partner” for being such a sloppy person (02 episode 18). She does not want people to get hurt because of her actions, especially because whenever she loses grip on herself like this, that’s something that’s very liable to happen (which is exactly what happens with Hawkmon in 02 episode 18), and her tendency to be judgmental or to have no brain-to-mouth filter means she can be occasionally insensitive (see 02 episode 31). She even ends up fostering an idea that Hikari must be thinking of her badly, while she’s at it (02 episode 31)!

The end result of Miyako’s character arc is that, while she ends up needing to adjust the more negative aspects of her personality that involve causing trouble for others and being insensitive, that doesn’t necessarily mean that she has to completely change her personality to accommodate that. Hawkmon assures her in 02 episode 18 that he likes her the way she is, and, as it turns out, Hikari and Miyako both realize in 02 episode 31 that Miyako’s in-your-face, aggressive personality is very helpful when dealing with someone who’s so closed-in and repressive like Hikari, because it means Miyako has the right temperament to go out of her way and reach out to her despite how high of a hurdle that would normally be. On top of that, a consistent thread from the beginning of the series is that her over-the-top antics bring the group proper cheer, with the kids genuinely enjoying the vibrance she brings with her dramatic Digital Gate entrances, and multiple significant scenes indicating that her being dramatic and silly will make people laugh and be happy. So in other words, Miyako is capable of being emotionally supportive and helpful while also being her aggressive and messy self, and there’s no need for her to have to change herself drastically to resolve the supposed “contradiction” that one might initially think this poses.

Miyako’s also generally the first female character billed in 02 (mainly because Hikari’s returning from Adventure), but she isn’t particularly teased as having any romantic relationship with Daisuke; not that they don’t have a compelling rapport, but any idea of them having any real feelings for each other isn’t exactly stated to any significant degree over the course of the series. Miyako herself comments on multiple people being attractive over the course of the series, and it’s interesting in how this is played; the earlier parts of the series involve her completely losing her head and getting weirdly hung up and fixated on her targets of attraction to the point of getting derailed over more important matters (see 02 episodes 6, 8, 14), whereas she’s later able to express this in a lot more straightforward of a manner without being weird about it (02 episodes 38, 39), and so in the end, it’s not exactly a fundamental sin for Miyako to be open about the concept of attraction, especially as it ends up not really having a huge place in the overall narrative, which is consistent with Adventure and 02 not really treating romance or attraction as if it’s such a game-changer for these kids at this point in their lives.

Iori

Iori is the youngest in this entire group of twelve, and yet carries himself with a sense of maturity that goes far beyond his age, to the point he even comes off as one of the most mature in the 02 group despite being younger than all of them by a significant margin. Even taking into account the concept of the “precocious kid”, however, Iori’s not only polite but also very stoic and stern, meaning he often can come up with some really passive-aggressive or stern remarks (completely in polite Japanese). Of this entire group, the youngest one is the most likely to completely roast you with some well-timed statements.

However, one important fact to keep in mind is that Iori isn’t doing this because he’s “naturally” stoic or emotionless, but because he’s deliberately suppressing himself in an attempt to be well-behaved. (A really big clue in the Japanese version that Iori’s facade is “slipping” is that he ends up losing his composure and using casual Japanese instead of the polite form that he so constantly adheres to.) This is something that partially comes from his upbringing from his family, especially his grandfather, but even said grandfather is concerned that he’s a bit overkill in this regard (see 02 episode 6). By all means Iori should be allowed to express himself a bit more freely, but he keeps restraining himself and trying to be well-behaved in front of all of these elders that he develops a complex over the one time he allowed himself to act excited and cheerful in 02 episode 16, to the point the episode ends with Submarimon basically dragging him out on an undersea trip so he can enjoy something for once, dammit.

Iori is described as “clumsy at expressing himself as a child”, and 02 depicts the problem that comes out of the flip side of a young child being so mature that they have more comfortable company with older kids than kids their own age: Iori is outright isolated from his peers because of how different his mentality is from theirs (02 episode 3), and moreover, his stubborn insistence on doing things a certain way to the point even his grandfather thinks he’s overdoing it is, in fact, his own way of being “childish”. He’s basically trying to follow the honorable principles he wants to follow from his family, but taking them to their logical extreme because his view of the world is too simple-minded from his lack of life experience. Hence, why he develops such a black-and-white view of morality trying to categorize people into boxes of “good” and “evil”, and why he ends up trying to follow principles to pretty impractical extremes such as thinking that a single white lie is going to send him on a path to moral debauchery. In short, he’s a young child trying to deal with very abstract concepts much bigger than him, and dealing with it in a very simple-minded, overly reductive way befitting that of someone his age.

However, one thing Iori does acknowledge is that he’s probably not going about this the right way, and that he needs to understand more about others if he wants to do better. From the very beginning of the series, Koushirou (02 episode 2) identifies him as someone who has a “curious mind” like himself, but while he initially expects Iori to be like him in terms of being curious about the Digital World, Iori’s “curiosity” ends up manifesting more in terms of wanting to know about how humans work and what’s the right thing to do. This is how he ends up breaking through to the very convoluted and repressive Takeru, because he has the drive to poke through Takeru’s many layers and figure out what’s going on with him, and it’s how he eventually manages to become more open-minded about the issues surrounding Ken and Oikawa despite initially having been so hostile to them. All things considered, “understanding morality” is a pretty heavy burden for someone who’s supposed to be the designated kid character!

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #shihameta

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awsuntanz · 4 years ago

Text

a ramble about helium chapter 4 (and dakota’s wonderful characterization)

its 4am, forgive me for any mistakes. i’ve never written anything like this before, aha.

All of these quotes are from Chapter 4 of @heytherestilinski‘s fic Helium!

The way Dakota (the author) fleshes out conflict and allows their painfully realistic characterization to shine is so...perfect. I find myself heavily relating to Dream, George, and even Sapnap at times.

Here are some lines that I didn’t think would stick out to me (but did):

After a quiet moment, to his soaring heart’s approval, George speaks up again.

This entire kitchen scene portrays that feeling of having a conversation with someone who matters to you. Whether it would classify as something important to someone else or not is irrelevant- to you, in that moment, it feels like you’re holding the world. It’s soft, and tender. You don’t want it to fall flat. You don’t want to let it go. (This scene may or may not have encouraged me to say goodnight to a special someone I was thinking of while reading this).

Sapnap dumps the responsibility of the cart back onto Dream. As he walks past him, he says, “You suck at flirting.”

I really enjoyed the stupid banter between Dream and Sapnap at the grocery store. It not only served as some nice comic relief that kept our guard down before the conflict at the end of the chapter, but it’s also something us readers would definitely hear from (and say to) our friends in real life. Good comic relief is something that eases us in naturally and allows us to immerse ourselves and enjoy the moment while maintaining that element of surprise that keeps us interested :)

He turns away from Dream. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Dream may be less controlled in his emotions and impulses, but he is very open in sharing them. George has more of a filter on everything. Controlled. Not wanting to push Dream (or maybe even himself) off the edge.

“You wanted to this morning,” he says, low.

“Yeah, because we were in your house, not the middle of the grocery store.”

Rejection. Denial. George’s response holds some truth to it, but comes off as a haphazard excuse at the same time. He doesn’t appreciate the way Dream pushes for that direct confrontation and frankness when it comes to approaching their situation (and honestly? Neither would I).

George halts to face him again, with a half-whisper, “Not exactly the best place to ambush me, Dream.”

I like the use of the word ambush here because of the strong negative connotation it implies. It’s as if he’s saying that Dream sought out to make him uncomfortable. As if this was pre-planned and intentional, and not another one one of his silly impulses.

Dream stares at him wildly. “I didn’t ambush you. You brought up your expectations, not me.” His voice grows tight. “Are you seriously still going to act like this?”

We’ve had enough of ��Dream, why? Dream, no! Dream, quit being an idiot!” from the readers. This time, he takes that blame and tosses it over to George instead. Conflict grows stronger.

“Like I’m—I’m this stumbling idiot who forces you into every bad situation,” he says. “It’s exhausting, and doesn't make me feel good about myself, and—” He runs a trembling hand through his hair. “It’d be nice if you took some responsibility, for once. That’s all.”

God, I’m so guilty of how George does this to Dream. Taking responsibility isn’t very fun when you feel like the other person is constantly making irrational, immature, and as we’ve established earlier, overall impulsive decisions when it comes to what they say and do. We assume that the other person should be able to understand us- We’ve put up with them for all this time, haven’t we?

Realizing that having a mentality like this is toxic and draining to the other person as well is... difficult. It’s difficult to remember that they’re trying, and that they genuinely care about you too. The very same things that make them irritating are what make them a loving and caring person as well. It takes growth from the both of you to learn and understand each other. And growth takes time.

It’s 4AM at the time I’m writing this, and I’m far too tired to quote the entire phone scene, so I’m going to assume you’ve read it.

A few lines from George:

“Can...can you stay on, for a bit? Can we just talk?”

“Please, Dream.”

“I just want to hear your voice.”

A few lines from Dream:

“George.”

“Stop,” he warned. “Stop that.”

“Don’t say that.” // “What is wrong with you?”

“Fuck, George. Why are you doing this to me?”

The reason Dream brings this up is because it highlights a moment where their general character roles in the fic are switched. In this scenario, it highlights a moment of hypocrisy. George is desperate, and vulnerable. The phone call dialogue showcases him doing something that he knows he shouldn’t be doing. “Can we not talk about this? Can we pretend this phone call didn’t happen?”

Now, plenty of ugly nights and long weeks later, he steps closer to George in the grocery aisle as an unconcerned passerby skirts around their cart and conflict.

I’m not sure why I like this line. It feels like a gentle reminder that in the grand scheme of things, your conflict is small. Insignificant to the rest of the world, mattering to you two and only you two. Makes everything a bit more personal, I guess.

He looms over him, wishing he could melt the bristling anger from his brown eyes, and wishing he had it in himself to be angry, too.

I relate to both sides of this. That gut-wrenching feeling of not being able to find your own anger at someone who is angry at you. The feeling of knowing that your anger is frustrating and hurting someone else, too. Either way, it feels absolutely terrible.

“You called me,” Dream recounts, even though he can tell George remembers it as vividly as he. “You talked to me.” He lets out a short, frustrated breath. “Then you got mad at me the next morning, and iced me out.”

Doing the same thing that you hated the other person for doing, and taking it out on them afterwards. Yeah.

(dakota. dream. can you pls stop calling me out through george i would really really really appreciate it thank u) /hj /lh

“Because you let it happen,” George says, but he looks more vulnerable than before.

blame game here we go againnnnn

Dream stares down at him. “So it’s all on my shoulders,” he reiterates flatly. “It’s all my responsibility, now?”

“Yes,” George spits, his sharpness startling them both. He meets Dream's gaze, unwavering, and recollects himself with a deep breath.

“Yes. Because you made it your responsibility, when you sent me that text.”

George was ready to throw that blame right back into Dream’s face. When I saw that whole scene in Heat Waves, I realized how much I related to George in that particular situation. I knew it would come back, somehow. George wouldn’t be able to let something as huge as that, something that shifted the entire course of their relationship...slide so easily. Even with Dream’s eventual promise to work on himself. The whole time, I was thinking, “He’s too nice. He’s too patient,” and, “I wouldn’t be that nice. I wouldn’t be that patient. Not on the inside, at least.”

And you didn’t fail me. That final jab, although relatable- It hurt.

Now that the screens are off, the distance is gone, and the barriers are thinner than ever before, George’s flaws are becoming more transparent. We start to see other parts of his character that had only been foreshadowed in your previous work. I had no idea how Helium would unfold at the beginning, but I’m now very sure that you did not disappoint.

Seeing how you’ve evolved as a writer in both more subtle and more noticeable ways has been awesome :) I’m excited for the next chapter.

#heat waves #dreamland #helium #im very sorry if this is bad #im no fearwastaken #dnf #dreamnotfound #long post #be warned #i cant believe i did this.#kinda nervous to post #edit: ok wow this did really well #thanks to everyone <3 and dakota omg #helium analysis

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dangermousie · 3 years ago

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CFC Chapter 54

“A crashing car?” Ahahahaha I see you, Meatbun. But it was indeed an utter pileup!

I know I commented on this passage in its various iterations eight billion times already but I still have more to say. And it’s that XQC taking so long to realize that even though HY is young, his emotions and feelings are as genuine and strong as those of anyone older is so realistic - people do tend to think that especially with regard to children - think of a reaction of an adult to a three year old crying over ice cream they dropped. It’s all amused even if not meanly so. Because to an adult with vastly more experience, this is not a big deal. But what that forgets is that whether it’s ridiculous to someone else or not, to the person at issue that is a real feeling, AND that of course a person can only feel through the lens of their experience - what else is there? Emotions aren’t any less valid because they are informed by lesser or different experience.

Honestly, to me so far this is one of the driving messages of the novel - everyone is in their own world of issues and pain and none of these characters can truly look through the lens of another person and it would be so much better if they did. To XQC, for so long, He Yu’s strong feelings (and we know so many of these feelings are awful - despair, and self-loathing, and loneliness) never quite felt real and therefore never quite felt fully valid. And by the time it wasn’t the case, it was too late.

But the same is true for He Yu - he is so concentrated on his own grievances and his own pain, he cannot perceive others’ different issues. In He Yu’s mind, he’s the winner and always champion of Misery Olympics and while he’s had a horrible time of it, that doesn’t mean other people didn’t either just in different ways. Whether because of his condition, his issues or just his age, HY is not empathetic in the least.

And think about it - XQC does not have a horrible illness. He does not have unfeeling parents. But he had to watch his beloved parents brutally murdered in front of his eyes at 13 (!!!!) and then had to raise a 5 year old by himself. Is it worse or better than HY’s trauma? That’s a matter of opinion but what there is no question about is that is a different type of trauma and a different type of scar. Or think about the patient in the asylum whose name I am too lazy to look up - her life is such a theater of horrors that to me, it makes the combined issues of HY and XQC seem small, though once again that’s subjective. Nobody wins when people start this sort of competition.

My heart breaks for XQC but also - I am sorry - if/when HY x XQC hook up again (how? I have no idea! But that is one of the joys of Meatbun - I both have no idea how/where it’s going and utterly trust her), please have He Yu read up and learn things because Good God. You should not be in major pain the morning after unless you are into pain and XQC clearly is not!

The other thing is the bit about XQC forcing himself to walk in his usual ramrod-straight manner is the moment I went utterly gone for him. I mean, I liked him and found him interesting before. But this is the thing that flipped that invisible switch for me and I went rabid and irrational and now I am Team XQC and I don’t care what he wants and does from now on, he should have it. It’s so small but so real. My mother and her mother were both big on straight posture. And one of the reasons they gave was when you walk with good posture - you look confident but also it makes you feel confident and stronger. And I’ve actually found it to be true - when you throw your shoulders back and straighten your neck and hold your head up, it does not just give others a signal, it gives a signal to your own brain. So to see XQC insist on doing it, despite being emotionally and physically shattered - because of his pride refusing to give up, because he’s so unbending, but also this being some sort of instinctive armor, just hits straight through the heart.

OK, I laughed at HY as a fucking machine. But also, this is another point in the whole “everyone has issues” narrative and HY’s life could be worse. HY, with all his other issues, can pay an insane amount, an amount that XQC could not pay in a million years, so easily. It’s not even a blip to him. Hell, the fact that he forgot to pay speaks to that - I can see forgetting to pay a friend a couple of bucks back right away because it’s not much money. HY forgets because it does not loom in his mind. And this rich lifestyle is instinctive, is ingrained in him. I think he’d find it hard to be poor.

THAT is what he’s thinking about? Priorities are...

The sole good thing that came out of this insanity is that XQC is getting in touch with his emotions, even if those emotions are (rightly) rage. He’s too closed off from them normally.

The fact that you slept with a man should be secondary to the fact that you drugged and raped him, but here we are...

To me, this sums up He Yu as a moral wasteland. To still, when sober and past his fit and not under influence of wine, to still feel excitement over his revenge and to somehow twist it that it’s XQC’s fault for being raped by He Yu is !!!!!!!!!

(I suppose if I were charitable, I’d assume that the disquiet is small stirrings of almost dead conscience and his “he deserved it” is an attempt to justify the unjustifiable to himself, but I honestly don’t want to think so because I am so angry at him. Not until I see some more evidence. I don’t feel like being indulgent with He Yu since he’s indulgent with himself enough for two.)

1. The fact that you can tell from the picture XQC got taken by a man (I am gonna defer to Meatbun’s expertise here) definitely points to the fact that the pictures are going to be used for something bad later - because if it’s just oh XQC had sex, so what, he’s single what’s the big deal. But like this it becomes a different matter. No idea if it will be used for HY or XQC or both, and by whom (money is on Duan and co, but after the way HY went off, I would never say HY himself won’t use it badly somehow) but knowing Meatbun, it will go for maximum damage.

2. Ruthless? Perhaps. Unfeeling? Hmmmm. I am not He Yu’s biggest fan atm but that’s a wonderfully misleading adjective here. He does still seem to be in shock. And fixating.

3. The whole “hahahaha XQC is a hypocrite when he was all ‘I am not interested in sex’“ is - I am not sure if HY is just short-circuiting (fine) or using a rapist justification/rolling in a sea of toxic toxicity (not fine) because I am sorry, that’s totally like “he/she had a reaction, can’t be rape” writ large. Yeah, sure he had a reaction - you poured drugs down his throat. That has nothing to do with his default preferences or his actual state. THE FUCK?!

Anyway, we end on the whole “u mad bro?” bit and you know what strikes me? HY was all “I am done, we are done, my revenge is complete I don’t care” but here he is, still desperately seeking and craving reaction and interaction from XQC.

I remain utterly puzzled as to how these two will ever be a couple except for a couple being defined as “two mutually homicidal people.” Leaving aside everything else, I am willing to accept HY is in the closet - clearly whatever his orientation is, it includes men. But I do not get that sense from XQC at all. When he’s not drugged, he’s barely interested in sex with anyone and I do not get the sense he’s in the closet either. Chances of anyone, let alone He Yu, who is both a man and someone who raped him to humiliate him, being able to entice him into sexual encounters voluntarily is about the chance of me going to visit Mars. Meatbun loves doing insane things so I can’t wait.

PS I know people use the term psychopath all the time casually but ummm, I think He Yu may actually be one? When he has his father (!!!) on speakerphone, calmly carrying a conversation with the man as he’s raping his father’s friend in the club as he talks (!!!!!) that is...in RL I’d be “team lock him up for life, there is something so basic broken in him that it can’t be fixed.” Like - the hell? The ability to put things on different shelves so much is not in the same country as sane (it makes me think of 2ha and TXJ banging CWN being the curtain while performing court business but TXJ was bona fide clinically insane and also this is worse because this is his actual freaking father omg.) Of course, only time will tell whether it’s evidence of him being irreparably incapable of normalcy in terms of living in the world/interacting with others or it was an extreme psychotic (in casual parlance not medical one) break because most people are capable of truly horrific stuff if certain levers are pushed and his default is saner. It’s the question, isn’t it? Whether He Yu’s factory default setting is the monster of the previous chapters or the kid who’d cut his wrists so as not to hurt others.

Anyway, this novel is a terrifying roller coaster ride and I love having strong emotions.

#cnovel #meatbun doesn't eat meat #case file compendium

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beevean · 3 years ago

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I'm gonna be very honest. Barok means a lot to me as a character, like on a deep personal level. I grew up in a very bigoted household, and general town, and internalized so much of their dogma that I'm still trying to unlearn all that bullshit even to this day. I know it's wrong and irrational, but when you live somewhere with people who try to ingrain that shit into you since the day you born? It's hard to unlearn.

That's why Barok means so much to me. He's a character with obviously irrational, that he knows are irrational btw fandom, and horrendous views (that the game wants to be uncomfortable about, it's not endorsing them people), but what does he do when presented all the evidence that he was wrong? He changes. He stops and starts making and effort not to say that shit anymore. He APOLOGIZES to the people he said that shit to. Multiple times! It's obvious from the way EVERY SINGLE BRITISH CHARACTER talks in this game that they're not glossing over the fact 18/1900s Britian is racist as fuck (even Sholmes had a line or two that could be read as a micro-aggression, SHOLMES).

I can also tell you exactly the progression of Barok's hatred because of how the society around him reinforced it because I have seen it happen before my very eyes in my home town. But unlike a lot of real like bigots who believe they're 100% right and refuse to change, Barok does. We can argue all day if his redemption is handled well or if his reaction makes sense, but let me tell y'all that from first hand experience bigotry NEVER makes sense. Never. And destroying that bigotry often comes from attacking the "reasons" or "logic" behind that bigotry. Barok perfectly makes sense to me.

I rarely ever see characters like Barok and given how the fandom treats him, refuses to acknowledge that yes he did stop and apologize at the end of DGS2, I can only wonder how people would treat me.

Thank you so much for sharing!

I agree completely with what you say about breaking free of bigoted views. It's hard to realize that your normality isn't normal at all, or even that it's harmful and you might have hurt people by doing things that you didn't even think they were wrong. That's why most bigots have a hard time changing, because admitting that you've been wrong for a long time is hard, and because societal pressure is stronger than we may give it credit for and we don't feel comfortable or even safe by standing out from the "normality".

As I always say, Barok's excuse for being a raging xenophobe is a bit weak for me if taken on its own. You don't wake up one day deciding to hate an entire group of people for one single reason. This is why I always propose that one of the major factors for his attitude was also the genuine racism that was prevalent in the British Empire at the time, the idea that British people were inherently superior and that it was their God-given purpose to enlighten those backwards foreigners. I bet that Barok, especially as a nobleman, was raised with this conviction as well, so when a Japanese man was revealed to be a serial killer, it was very easy for him to slip into the mentality of "of course he did all those atrocities, he was a Nipponese, that's how they are, they're savages anyway". After all, if he can assume all Japanese people are set to betray you, he would see past their façade and never be hurt again... right?

And then comes Ryuu, who Barok even admits had absolute integrity at his job, who showed himself to be so talented that Barok left his old friend in his hands, and who came to help him at his lowest point for no reason and without asking for anything in return. They do say that experience is the enemy of bigotry :)

(ngl I felt for him when he admits that he knows that his hatred is irrational, but he just can't help it - while I wish Ryuu had a stronger reaction to his racist remarks, that just screams "please I need a therapist")

And yes, what people seem to ignore is that he changes at the end. And while it's true that before Chronicles' release DGS2 was less popular than DGS1 due to a lack of a complete translation patch, I think they do it on purpose anyway? Usually the people who are so aggressive against "problematic" characters and the people who like them don't believe much in redemption and character development :\ it's one thing to say his "Nipponese" comments are annoying af, becase they are, but to act like that it's the extent of his characterization is a bold-faced lie. Sadly I see this behavior applied to real people as well, it's like they believe that you're either born bad or born good, instead of having control over your actions :\ but thankfully I haven't seen much hatred for Barok in these past few weeks, or at least way less than I was afraid of! And most of the people who complete GAA2 agree that he's an excellent character with compelling character development.

I also love Barok, and I think he's uniquely fleshed-out compared to other prosecutors: he's intimidating, he's hilarious, he's obnoxious, and under all of that there is a sad man who lead a lonely life surrounded by death, shunned by London to the point of not bearing his nickname, used like a pawn and lied to for the sake of "improving London", and without any outlet other than wine and irrational hatred towards people that remind him of the wound that never healed... but who still had the strength to admit to himself, eventually, "I was wrong this entire time". Sometimes you just have to welcome problematic characters in your heart <3

On a slightly related tangent, you reminded me of a comment I read on Reddit once, of a person who loved Nahyuta because they also were raised in a religious household and were a zealot in the past. It's fascinating how some characters can speak to us :)

I wish you all the best in your quest to unlearn bigotry and become the person you want to become <3

#ace attorney #the great ace attorney #dai gyakuten saiban #gaa2 spoilers #dgs2 spoilers #barok van zieks #long post #i just realized he has more in common with godot than i thought #great pain after losing a loved one?#irrationally hating someone?#hiding depression under outlandish court behavior and sarcastic quips?#being associated with bigotry?#drinking harmful substances in court?#being a base breaking character?#guys stop the presses we found barok's true descendant

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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Persephone Symphony | Night One | Hades

Hey my lovelies, here is the next instalment! It’s pace is a little different-- a little more frantic-- but it fits the storyline so all is good! I wasn’t joking when I said it was a slooooow burn LOL! It’ll be worth it, I promise-- expect a bathtub scene soon. Anyways, enjoy my loves!!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: nightmares, anxiety, cheesy chic flicks

Word count: 5.5k

Previous | Next

Master List

“You don’t even go here!”

He tries not to laugh— he really, really tries. He doesn’t want to laugh at a chick flick. Maybe Nat would have called him toxic for that. She was a badass— strong, intelligent, killer— probably the most like him out of everyone on the team— and even she used to laugh at movies like this on the nights she and Wanda would claim the common room for marathons. She definitely would have called him toxic. Maybe that’s why he lets a few chuckles out. Maybe it’s just because it is funny, though, and because the other deathly intelligent woman next to him is looking at him.

Maybe he just wants her to keep looking at him and if that means watching her movie then so be it.

The couch shifts. It’s only a tiny movement— if he wasn’t so focussed on her he wouldn’t have even noticed it. But he is and he does and he tells himself it’s because this is his job. It’s his job to watch her because he has to keep her safe. Yeah, it’s his job to keep her safe. It has nothing at all to do with the fact that when she had dropped that stupid fucking brush his heart had beat so fast he thought it was going to explode. Nothing to do with the fact that he’s never kicked a door down that quick in his entire life. Nothing to do with the fact that it feels like if he takes his attention off of her for even a second then she’s going to end up with a bullet in her skull—

No. She’s fucking not. End of story.

He swallows hard, the laughter evaporating like smoke in his lungs. He didn’t expect it to last that long anyway. It never does. His eyes flick over her, watching as she pulls her legs under her worn hoodie, her head resting on the arm of the couch. Her eyes are closed and when he holds his breath he can hear hers, soft and slowing alongside her heartbeat.

Some of the tension begins melting away in his shoulders. For four hours he laid there on the floor, jaw and fists clenched so tight he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pry them open again when the time came, listening to the rapid thump, thump, thump of her heart. Four fucking hours. That was worse than the brush— he can stop a guy with a gun but he knows nothing about heart attacks.

It was agony— he hasn’t felt that kind of helplessness before. Helpless knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her heart because he was definitely the reason it was pounding like a freight train trying to barrel out of her chest. He doesn’t want to scare her— in fact, he’s almost certain he would do anything if it meant she wouldn’t be afraid of him. Because that’s what it was— fear. He could practically smell it. The sharp tang of sweat and something else lingering in the air— something that made the hair on his arms stand on end, his attention laser focussed on the semi-sweet aroma. Normal people can’t smell fear but he can. Dogs can.

He swallows thickly, metal fingers balling so tight he can hear the slight creak of the vibranium curling against his thigh. His eyes dart back to her, praying the sound doesn’t make her flinch like everything else he does seems to do. Thankfully she remains still, her heart continuing to slow steadily. He pauses his breathing again to listen harder, clinging to the rhythm of the air coursing through her lungs.

In, out, pause. In, out, pause.

Like everything else she does, she makes a song of her breaths, finding a melody in the simplest of human routine. This time, though, it’s less mesmerizing. It still drags him into her orbit— he can still feel himself getting lost in this new incarnation of her inescapable softness— but there’s this voice nagging at the back of his mind, nervously tapping at his skull, demanding to be heard. That’s normal, right? She’s supposed to be breathing that slowly? Where is the line drawn between too fast and too slow? As much as he wants to get lost in her music he can’t help but feed into the voice. Fuck. He narrows his eyes, opting to watch the minute rise and fall of her chest instead.

Rise, fall, stop. Rise, fall, stop.

For a moment it works— he can see her breathing so she’s obviously fine— but then she stills and it feels like someone is driving a knife through his lungs. It’s normal— it has to be normal. She’s just asleep. Sure enough she takes another breath, chest rising once more before falling. The same thing happens, she stills, and he waits. Rise, fall, stop. With every cease of movement he feels more and more like sliding closer to her— as if he would be able to change her breathing pattern from sheer will and closeness.

Snap out of it, Bucky— she’s fine!

He’s being irrational— he’s being nitpicky. Since when is he an attention to details kind of guy? It’s his job. There it is again— the reminder. The excuse. He has to keep her safe and making sure she’s breathing normally is definitely part of that. Rise, fall, stop. His fingers— his real fingers— twitch against his other thigh and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to stop his gut from twisting. He has to do something— anything— to get closer to her. Just to make sure. Glancing around the room, his eyes catch on something along the back of the couch— perfect.

He yanks the quilt down as silently as possible, shaking it until it unfolds before scooting closer to her. As Bucky enters her space, cushions heaving under his weight, all he can smell is cherry pie. It almost floors him, the heady sugar and slight tang clinging to the air around her. His lips are dry but he doesn’t poke his tongue out, afraid of syrupy nostalgia he can feel starting to meld against his skin, sinking into the pit of his stomach. It’s futile— he knows it is— avoiding the sweetness won’t make it go away.

He swallows the lump in his throat and it tastes like July in Brooklyn in 1925. It tastes like running through the docks with Steve when the first shipment of fruit reached the shore, hands— both flesh, both warm, both untouched by anything but careless youth— curled around the money his mother had given him. Buy the ones in the back, she would tell him. They’re the sweetest. Finally he can’t take it— how tight his mouth feels— and he runs his tongue along his lips. His mother’s cherry pie used to win awards— now he knows why.

He drops the blanket a little unceremoniously. He isn’t intending for it to fall in a lump into her lap, all bunched up and awkward, but it slips from his fingers before he can catch it. Damn pie. He quickly fixes it, acting with more delicacy, trying to keep from touching her as he drapes the material over her legs. Despite his efforts he brushes her skin a few times, his now calloused and cold fingers meeting her buttery soft thigh, and his chest jolts, heartbeat spiking enough to rid his lungs of any trace of oxygen. He tears his hands away, breathless, face hot, and sinks his head into his free grip. He’s losing it.

“I didn’t mind it.”

At first he thinks he’s imagining it— her sweet, soft voice— the faintest lullaby breaking through the crashing of blood in his eardrums— but then he feels the couch move again and his head is lifting of its own accord, eyes desperate to see that she’s okay. He follows her movements, tiny hands grasping at the quilt, pulling it over the rest of her body. She presses her face against it, eyes remaining shut but clearly alive, and his shoulders drop. See, she’s fine you idiot.

She’s fine but he didn’t hear a word she said. “What.”

He bites back the groan— Really? ‘What’? So you remember her cherry pie but none of the manners she taught you?

If she notices the gruffness in his tone she doesn’t point it out, only yawns and stretches, bringing her body into an even smaller ball. God, he could just reach out and pick her up with one han—

“Doll.” She mumbles, sleep etched across her features, making her already soft words even more gentle. Even more hypnotic. “I didn’t mind it.”

He wasn’t breathless before. Now he knows that. He was something— stunned, shocked, a moron— but not breathless. His lungs didn’t feel like they were filled with helium before— so light that he’s afraid he’s going to float away. He didn’t slam a hand against his chest last time, fingers like jelly as they claw at his heart, searching for something to anchor himself against the madness of his racing mind. She didn’t mind it. It didn’t feel like this— like there’s no air in his throat but that it’s okay because if there’s air in her throat then everything is fine.

Everything will be fine.

She liked it.

He sinks back against the cushion, eyes wide and glued to the girl next to him, barely registering the soft snores that begin fluttering around him. She liked it. Her, the softest, warmest girl that he can remember even being this close to. The softest, warmest girl who smells like his mother’s famous pie. The softest, warmest girl who, in her sleep, pushes her foot closer towards him, resting it against his leg and snoring a touch louder. He’s breathless now— speechless.

But he has to say something.

“Oh.”

Yeah, he’s a moron alright.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After the movie finishes Bucky just clicks on the next one. She’s The Man. It’s funnier than the last. Maybe that’s just because the clock now reads four thirty, though, and his legs have started going numb and her cherry pie scent is still lingering in his nose. It’s like a sedative, being this close to the sleeping girl. His bones feel heavier, his eyelids beginning to droop. Every time he blinks the darkness lasts a little longer. He uses the ticks of the ancient clock to keep track.

Tick, tick, tick.

She stopped snoring about an hour ago. He kind of wishes she hadn’t. It was like a reminder— a little ‘it’s okay, I’m breathing’ to keep his nerves from sky rocketing. Now all he can hear is the little puffs of air as they leave her lips. Sometimes they blend into the noise of the TV and he goes still, a chill tingling at the top of his spine as he waits. In, out, pause. Always that damn pause. He debates turning the movie off a few times but stops himself, not wanting to risk her waking up to him staring at her in the dark. He may be out of touch with the times but creepy is timeless and in any time— be it the thirties or now— he would prefer to stay as far away from that category as possible.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

He can feel where her toes still press against his thigh. They’re higher now, closer to his hip, and he can’t bring himself to move away from her. He should. He knows he should. This isn’t part of the job. The way his stomach flip flops like he’s a teenager again when she kneads against him is not in his contract. Neither is the way he wishes it wasn’t just her foot. He clenches his jaw, head sinking back into the back of the couch. Screw Wilson for having a couch that feels like a fucking cloud. He can feel his muscles relaxing, the numbness in his fingers a tell tale sign of the impending sleep. Just a few more seconds.

Tick, tick, tick— god he wants to crawl next to her and fall asleep— tick, tick.

He springs to his feet, eyes open as wide as they can go, shaking his head to clear the thought. Nope— that game is done. That’s the last thing either of them need; for her to wake up, broken leg or wrist or worse, trapped under him because there’s no way that he wouldn’t hurt her if they were sleeping together. He’s too big and she’s too good. Too good for someone like him, too good to be subject to the danger of his tossing and turning.

His restlessness was never dangerous before. Annoying? Yes. Distracting? Definitely. But dangerous? Never. Thinking about it now, though, he can see it— all the little ways she would get hurt being with him but especially the ones that involve them sharing a bed together. Or a couch. He’s destructive and it only makes sense that his sleep habits would be destructive too. His fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots. The sting against his scalp is almost enough to cover the one in his throat.

Now that he’s on his feet he stays on them, shifting his weight between his heels, trying desperately to clear the numbness. He never sits that long. Even back at the compound he never spends more than an hour in the same spot. He wasn’t built for the peace of day to day life. All the sitting and sleeping and lounging. That’s part of being a monster— in his case half man, half mechanical beast. He’s gotten used to being turned off when he’s not needed. Always moving and pushing and fighting until— Benign. Blackness. Nothing. The cold.

Maybe that’s why he can’t relax these days— the warmth. When he used to sleep— when he used to get turned off, he should day— it was freezing. Of course now he knows why— they kept him in a cooler like a piece of meat, always thawing and freezing him. It shouldn’t be a memory that he clings to— he shouldn’t be sleeping with his windows open at night, nothing but a sheet pulled over his hips. He shouldn’t cringe when Stark turns the heat up or when the gym showers are steamy from the person before him. He may be an idiot— a monster— but he’s not stupid. It’s not normal.

He misses being normal.

The supersoldier serum ensures that possibility is gone, though. Maybe one day he’ll get over the shower thing. Maybe he’ll even appreciate the temperature being turned up. It doesn’t really matter either way. Neither of those things will erase his heightened senses. Like how he can still feel where she was pressed against him, the spot on his thigh prickling with the memory of her touch. He knows he'll be able to feel her for the next few hours, engraved into his skin, taunting him. Not being afraid of the fucking hot water won’t rewire his nerve endings. Or his fucking brain which keeps filling with thoughts of the sleeping girl.

Shivering, he pushes himself to the other side of the living room, drawing back the curtain for a quick moment, eyes wandering the empty darkness before letting it drop again. He sinks into the recliner next to the couch, ignoring the way his bones ache in protest. The spot on his thigh is like a magnet, the lingering signature she unknowingly left on him begging to be reunited with her. He scratches at it— he’s not about to subject her to his cold shower, windows open life. She has enough of her own problems.

It’s not long before his eyes are beginning to shut again, the ticking of the clock like a dare, lulling him back into that semi-sweet cherry haze. Just try to stay awake, it taunts, clicking mercilessly as he fights his drooping eyelids. It would go against his entire nature, falling asleep in this armchair. It’s too soft and too warm and he has way too many clothes on but still— something’s different. He doesn’t have to look around to know what it is. His thigh is still buzzing. He doesn’t have to look but he does anyway. In hindsight it’s a good thing that he does—

“No—” his head snaps up, eyes cracking open, heart stopping— “No stop— don’t hurt—”

—because if he hadn’t then he wouldn’t be in front of her in time to catch her body as she bolts upright, springing from the couch with a choked scream, knees crashing into the coffee table and sending her flying straight towards where the glass vase shatters on the carpet.

He’s out of his seat in seconds, heart lodged in his throat as he shoves the coffee table with his boot, diving for her with all the speed he can muster. He winces when he hears the glass crunch further into ground but he can’t bring himself to care— not as his arms curl around around the tiny girl, pulling her into his chest as he twists his body and lands back first against the patch of carpet that is— thankfully— shard free. The thud of the impact echoes through his body, stabilizing only when it reaches the vibranium. He has no idea what the Shuri did to the arm to make it shock absorbent but for once he’s grateful for the hunk metal because at least it’s keeping the impact from jaring her even more. Finally the fuckin’ thing comes in handy.

His head slumps against the carpet for a moment, eyes closing, his chest heaving and veins singing— both from the adrenaline coursing a path through his body and from the way she settles on top of him, thighs pressing against him, hands splayed across his chest. He could get lost in this feeling— hell he can feel himself slipping away right now. Never before has he wanted someone’s hands to touch him so much. Hell, he doesn’t even want his own hands to touch him half the time. But hers? Gods, he wishes they would just dig into his hair already, tug on his shoulders, trace along his jaw and nose and lips. He’ll take anything— any little scrap of her skin on his.

That being said, it takes him longer than he’s willing to admit to push past the all consuming feeling of her pressing against him enough to realize that those very hands— the ones he wants so badly— are clawing at his shoulders. His eyes snap open, hands tightening on her back as she thrashes against him, voice high pitched and terrified.

“No, no, no, no! Don’t— hurt me. He’s gonna’— help me!”

Her hands— now balled into tiny fists— fly out, just barely missing his jaw as he ducks out of the way. They land against his chest instead, weakly pounding against him, and just like that he’s back, pushing off the ground and gently scooping her hands into his. It makes her thrash harder, her eyes squeezed shut, her harsh movements somehow languid and being swallowed by the hoodie. She’s panting, still mumbling, and he narrows his eyes, just barely making out the movement beneath her eyelids— is she still asleep?

“Please no.” It’s not so much of a yell now as it is a strangled whimper— one that hits him so hard he has to slap a hand to the ground to keep from falling over again.

“Hey, c’mon—” he lets her wrists go, hand instead curling around her shoulder, shaking her as delicately as he can given the fact that he’s trying to break her from the nightmare— “you gotta’ wake up, doll.”

Bucky can hear the way he stutters his words. He hasn’t stuttered since the second grade but here he is, fumbling over his sentences, trying to think of something coherent and useful. He’s a soldier for fucks sake— he’s faced worse things than a nightmare— but right now he feels eight years old again and helpless. He’s stuck, shaking her with weak arms, deaf to anything but her name on his tongue, and he’s scared. With every tortured cry that rips from her pink lips he becomes more torn between the kid he once was— the one who thought Brooklyn was so huge and that he was so small— and the man he is now— the one who knows that Brooklyn is nothing but a place and who still feels smaller than ever.

“Mama, no—” this time it’s neither a yell nor a whimper; it’s a full blown sob— one that sinks against his chest where her forehead hits him, a dagger straight to his already broken heart— “don’t go, don’t leave—”

The end of her sob explodes into a scream so loud he flinches, his hold on her tightening for a split second until he feels his fingers digging into her pilant flesh through the hoodie. He eases his grip, chest so tight he feels like he’s going to pass out. Somehow, even through the noise, he can still hear that fucking clock. It sounds like it’s laughing at him now. Tick, tick, tick, you can’t even keep a little girl safe, tick. He wants to curl up— he wants to rip his ears off. It’s too much. His shirt sticks to him, soaked with the hot, wet tears of the trembling girl in his arms and he snaps— he can’t take it anymore.

He shakes her one more time, harder, ignoring the way his muscles scream in protest, like they’re demanding he treat her as gently as possible. “Y/n wake up!”

He doesn’t yell but it’s the loudest he’s spoken since he walked through the door and it feels like he’s swallowing the pieces of the vase he broke. He had to do it. He had to make those sounds stop. He doesn’t like it but he had to. He’s just thankful it works, her eyes snapping open, the scream catching in her throat and dying away. It’s so sudden that his ears ring— not missing her wails but empty without her noise. The silence isn’t worse but it may as well be. There’s no winning for them.

She stops dead, movements ceasing, and too many seconds tick by in which all he can hear is his own panting, laboured and frantic. For too long she sits there, her eyes wide, meeting his gaze but also not. It takes everything in him to keep her at arms length— to not crush her tiny body against him if only to be able to feel her breaths against his skin. To make sure. He can see it— rise, fall, stop. Rise, fall, stop— but it’s not enough. It wasn’t enough before but now it’s really not enough, especially when she’s on his lap looking more dead than alive. Looking as dead as he feels knowing he can’t fight whatever’s going on in her head for her.

Finally, after what feels like another century of agony— one almost as bad as his first century of cryotanks— she blinks.

“Bucky?” Her voice is watery, his name coming out a little distorted— a little raw— but beneath it all he can hear the unyielding softness.

She shifts on his lap, fingers wound so tight in his shirt that he’s not sure if she’s fully aware of what happened yet. They shake wildly, thrumming a drunken beat against his chest. Had it been anyone else— had it been Wilson or Stark or anyone— he would have ripped them off of him. He would have seethed, teeth bared and nostrils flared, seconds away from barking, until they backed off. But it’s not anyone else; it’s her and so instead he sucks in enough air to make his lungs inflate and push his chest closer to her touch.

“Shit, doll, You’re ali— awake. You’re awake.” He breathes, face flushing, neck so hot he can feel every burning inch of his shirt— especially where her hands push the fabric against him.

He resists stuffing his fist in his mouth, hoping how stupid he sounds doesn’t register with her. Of course she’s awake— she's talking to him. She’s talking to him and she’s alive and she— despite the sweat beading along her forehead— still smells like tang and sugar. The SoCal girl still smells like summer in Brooklyn and that’s enough for him to force his hands off her shoulders, reluctantly but with relief cooling his nervous system.

The movement makes her tenses, head sloping down, eyes filling with realization before her neck snaps back up. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

There’s an edge in her voice, her eyes glossing over, hands loosening before dropping completely. Bucky blinks and the next thing he knows she’s pushing off his lap, dragging herself backwards, hands clawing at the carpet now instead of his chest. The cold air rushes over him, detailing every inch of him that had been pinned against her, and suddenly he doesn’t like it so much anymore. Get a grip.

He swallows, speaking around his aching tongue and stinging palms. “Think you had a nightmare or something. You were—” he pushes his hand up and through his hair, not realising until it’s too late that it’s the wrong one. He yanks it back, teeth clenching when some strands rip out with his metal fingers— “you were talking in your sleep and then you stood up. There was a vase—” why is this so hard to say? Just fucking spit it out— “and you were about to fall and I just— it was all so fast it was the only thing I could think to do.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes for the entirety of his spiel— he can’t— but he can feel her stare burning into the top of his head. That scent— that semi-sweet musk— fills the space between them and he digs his fingers into his thighs. He knows that, were it not for the same damn serum making it possible to smell her right now, he would have bruises on his legs. The thought doesn’t mean anything to him— it doesn’t make him let up. She’s afraid. Again. All because he couldn’t let her go soon enough. God damnit Bucky.

He listens as she shuffles— as she sniffles— and he’s never hated himself more. Because that’s what it is— he hates himself. He hates himself for shaking her so roughly in his haste. He hates himself for agreeing to take this job thinking he could handle it. For not demanding Wilson take the job. For enjoying bacon on grilled cheese and for wondering what Pasedena is like and for how fucking badly he wants to truly rememeber what his mother’s pie tastes like.

He hates himself for— despite every rational part of him screaming at him not to— closing the space between him and the crying girl and pulling her back into his arms. Call him a dog— call it the instincts of a useless, dangerous mutt— but to him her soft cries sound more like his name than anything he’s ever heard. They sound like an order. Come, dog. If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes is good at it’s following orders. For better or for worse.

This time, instead of pushing him away, she throws her arms around him. “I’m sorry.”

Her quivering voice catches him off guard but not as much as her apology does. What? She sinks her face into his neck, shoulders shaking against his, hoodie covered hands scraping against his back. Nevermind— he’s not about to fuck this up. He can feel the stretch of her spine as she struggles to keep her arms around his torso, her knees wobbling slightly as they hold her up, and he instantly slouches, curling forward. In turn she crawls forward even further, legs bumping messily into his. There’s no way this is happening.

He tests the water, running his fingers up her back, pressing so lightly that he can barely feel the ridges of her bones. “Don’t be.”

They stay like that in silence for more tick, tick, ticks than he can count, neither of them speaking. Eventually her shoulders stop shaking and her little sobs turn into little hiccups before finally dissipating into little huffs of air, warm and sweet and still against his neck. At one point he moves, rolling off his shins and kicking his legs out in front of him. It forces her to move too and at first he thinks she’s going to pull away but all she does is turn, scrunching her own legs up to her chest and settling between his knees, her side resting against his front. It isn’t until the first dregs of dawn cut through the miniscule crack in the green curtain that she speaks, voice stiff and fingers pulling at the collar of her hoodie.

“What, erm, what did I say?” She pauses before sheepishly adding— “In my sleep, I mean.”

Cue the sweet scent of her fear again. He peers down at her, watching as she tugs her lip between her teeth, biting down until he can smell more copper than fruit. The hair on the back of his neck raises, stomach sinking. Blood. Keeping his hand steady where it rests on her ankle is hard. It isn’t what he wants to do but he doesn’t want to scare her— well, scare her more.

“I couldn’t tell you,” he lies, voice tighter than he would like, shrugging his shoulders instead of reaching over and running his thumb over her lip. “It was too quiet.”

Her shoulders drop and— when she releases her lip, slightly tinted crimson but overall okay— so do his. She nods but doesn’t say anything and he taps her ankle once. He hopes that to her it reads something like you’re too wonderful to be hurting yourself. Even if it doesn't, that's fine. Even if all she does is feel it and know that he’s there, watching her back, then it doesn’t really matter. That’s good enough for him.

Still, there’s that feeling in his chest again— that nagging, nitpicky feeling. It makes the words dance on his tongue, stomp against his teeth. Just ask, they goad. We know you want to ask. His eyes flick to the clock. Six-thirty in the morning. He uses it— his glaring lack of sleep— as an excuse to open his mouth.

“Do you wanna’ talk about it?” it’s a risk— pressing the matter of her nightmare when it’s clearly a touchy subject— but he has to ask.

He has to make sure she’s okay.

It’s his job.

She shakes her head, closing her eyes. He watches as her throat bobs, fingers slipping into the neck of her hoodie. “Not right now.”

He nods— he can live with that answer. He knows what it’s like to not want to talk about things. To not want to talk about nightmares. He gets wanting to bury it. It’s what he does best. Showers, jogging, fighting. Ignoring his problems is his most fluent language— and he knows three. The only problem is that now his mouth is open and it’s refusing to close— to stop talking— and he says the only thing his worried, tired brain can think of.

“Do you think you wanna’ go back to sleep or—”

“No—” she chokes out, voice rushed and cracking and cutting off the rest of his stupid thought. The regret bubbles like tar in his chest— he’s such an idiot— “please no I can’t.”

She’s sitting up now, ankle falling from his grasp as she wraps her arms around her knees. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her jaw is just barely craning back and forth, her lips moving but nothing coming out. This time he wastes no tick, tick, ticks scooting closer to her, metal hand on her back, brushing up and down, flesh hand finding the warm spot on her leg and reclaiming it. She hiccups again and he holds her a fraction tighter, wondering just how common her nightmares are.

“Hey, s’alright, don’t worry. I’m not going to make you sleep or anything. That was, ah—” damnit Barnes don’t start rambling now just fix it— “yeah no, we’ll figure something else out.”

It seems to work, she settles quicker than all the times before, but it doesn’t keep his mind from continuing to think about her. From worrying about her. Do the nightmares happen often or only sometimes?

Her body relaxes, arm sagging against his once more as she nods. “Thanks.”

Who holds her when she wakes up screaming?

He winces. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Does anyone hold her or does she just wake up alone, terrified and—

“I want to. Thank you, Bucky.”

He feels like he’s going to explode— like he’s going to say something else that he’ll regret. He has to change the subject—

“You hungry, doll?”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky @elijahs-wife @cari1bunny @im-just-star-dust @motherofallthesmallthings @hazardoushallucination

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes series #bucky series #mcu #mcu fic #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic universe fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #mcu imagine #mcu series #Persephone's Symphony

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 14 - ao3 -

If Lan Qiren hadn’t had any idea on what to do with Cangse Sanren to begin with, he had even less of an idea of what to do when he received a letter from his sworn brother which, after some deciphering of the small talk and insincerely meant pleasantries that could just as easily be read as implicit threats, seemed to boil down to so I hear you have a lover now? and also come to the Nightless City at once.

I do not have a lover, Lan Qiren wrote back crossly. You should send whatever spies you have packing because they are clearly completely useless to you. Also, I have classes that I have no intention of missing. If you want company, recall that you have a wife.

That won him a few weeks of blissful silence, possibly due to Wen Ruohan’s shock but more likely due to Lan Qiren having spitefully chosen to send his reply by usual post rather than by special post, which was more expensive and also generally reserved for important sect matters and not for obvious fishing attempts for gossip about the personal lives of juniors.

Which Wen Ruohan should be above, anyway. What did it matter to him?

The response, not long after that, went something along the lines of so what you’re saying is that you haven’t won the immortal mountain’s disciple yet? if you come to Qishan, I can advise you and that irritated Lan Qiren most of all, because right up until that point he hadn’t known that Cangse Sanren was a disciple of the famous Baoshan Sanren, the best-known immortal still in contact with the mortal world.

Mostly because Cangse Sanren hadn’t ever bothered to introduce herself.

It bothered him, a little. More than a little. She knew how much he valued people acting according to the rules; even if she didn’t care for them, shouldn’t she respect his inclination?

(It turned out that she didn’t introduce herself because she didn’t have a proper name, just the title that everyone used for her. Baoshan Sanren let everyone keep the name they came to the mountain with, but Cangse Sanren had come too young for any name at all, and so she’d never gotten one in all the suspiciously unspecified years she had spent on the timeless mountain. It was a pretty good reason not to introduce yourself, as such things went, and it also belatedly explained why she took offense to people calling anyone old.)

I am not trying to win anyone, he wrote back to Wen Ruohan. And even if I was, which I am not, I would still have classes and am not currently at liberty to travel. Has there been some sort of terrible tragedy such that your Wen sect is so desperate for additional people in the Nightless City?

You are not just any person but my sworn brother, Wen Ruohan responded. Am I not entitled to see you? Maybe I want to see this beard you’re reputedly growing.

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes and threw the letter into the box he was keeping all the others. He was trying to grow a beard, as it happened, though being a newly-turned eighteen it was a slow and frustrating process. He wasn’t entirely sure he liked the itchy feeling of it growing, either, but stroking his chin as if in thought was nearly as cathartic as waving his hands, only more socially acceptable; he liked that part very much.

He’d always had a tendency towards strange motions – moving his hands or arms, tapping on things, or rocking back and forth when he was especially distressed – but his brother had always hated it especially, always quoting Do not move arbitrarily at him even though he knew that that wasn’t the fundamental meaning of that rule. That wouldn’t have been so much of an issue, except most other people seemed to agree with him, citing the importance of acting in a dignified and restrained manner, limiting unnecessary movement and remaining still and calm as a placid pool of water no matter what the circumstance.

The beard was an acceptable compromise. Given how common beards were in the sect, it would be hard to criticize Lan Qiren without accidentally insulting an elder – and it felt so good to be able to move freely, the action serving as an aid for emotional regulation that he desperately needed.

Of course, Cangse Sanren thought it was ugly.

Lan Qiren didn’t agree, but he also didn’t think it was any of her business what he did with his face. Even if it was ugly, so what? He wasn’t particularly egotistical.

Accordingly, he thanked her stiffly for her opinion and then proceeded to ignore it.

Apparently, that didn’t sit well with her, a fact Lan Qiren only discovered when he woke up one day, groggy and unclear as to what had happened the night before, to find himself shaven clean and Cangse Sanren beaming at him from within his own room, to which he had never invited her.

He did not react well.

Stories of your shouting have reached even Qishan, Wen Ruohan’s next letter said. Was what your little lover did really so bad? I hadn’t known you were so sensitive. It’s not as if it won’t grow back.

This is your fault, Lan Qiren wrote back, irrational and upset, his calligraphy rough from the way his hand shook – though whether in rage or something else he couldn’t quite tell. I don’t want to hear from you.

Truly his reaction had been out of proportion with Cangse Sanren’s offense. Shaving a beard, especially a half-grown thing like that, was little more than a childish prank, even if it had taken him several months to get as far as he had; in the end, it was really only a blow to his vanity, and perhaps the loss of a convenient emotional crutch.

And yet, when he’d woken up and seen her there where she wasn’t welcome – when he’d realized that he couldn’t remember the evening before, just the way he couldn’t remember what had happened in the Nightless City that day, waking up to Wen Ruohan smiling at him and an oath he didn’t know nor want – when he’d tasted the sour taste of day-old liquor on his tongue –

He’d panicked.

She’d realized it, he thought in retrospect; the ever-present smile had slowly dripped off her mouth as he stared at her blankly for the first few moments, frozen, and had morphed into an expression of shock when he had broken through his paralysis to start screaming at her to go, get out, leave – he’d even picked up some of his own things to throw at her, just to make her leave faster.

He continued smashing his things after she’d gone, unthinking in his frenzy and unsure why he was so upset, and in the end when clarity had returned and he realized what he’d done he’d been so ashamed that he’d grabbed his guqin and slunk away, retreating to the rooms where the Lan sect entered into seclusion. He couldn’t go into real seclusion with so little preparation, of course, but he was practiced enough at inedia that he could skip meals for a few days and not need to see the world for at least a week.

Part of the feeling of shame was that he didn’t know why he had reacted so badly. Wasn’t it normal for peers his age to play that sort of trick on each other? It hadn’t been meant as a real insult.

He had no right to feel so betrayed.

And yet, he did.

Cangse Sanren had visited later that day, her hand tapping lightly on the door bound by wards and her normally brash voice murmuring explanations and not-quite apologies – saying that she hadn’t realized what it had meant to him, that she wouldn’t have done it if she’d known, asking if he wouldn’t come out to talk to her about it and let her apologize properly.

He ignored her.

He ignored her the next day and the day after, too. His hands were unsteady when he tried to play calming songs for himself, his music tangled and knotted up like the feelings in his chest.

On the fourth day, she came and sat by his door in the evening, late and near to curfew.

“I didn’t know, you know,” she finally said after sitting there for nearly a shichen. “About what happened to you in the Nightless City.”

His hands froze over the guqin.

“Drinking liquor comes as easily to me as breathing,” she continued. “No one’s ever been able to play a trick on me because I got drunk – it’s everyone else who falls over in the end, not me. Maybe what why, when someone told me how badly your family handles its liquor, I thought only of how funny it would be…and not how it would feel, waking up and realizing that you didn’t know what happened. What someone could have done to you.” She was silent for a moment. “What I did do.”

Lan Qiren shut his eyes tightly.

Yes, he thought to himself. She was right. That was why he was so upset.

It wasn’t about the beard at all.

“An oath made when you didn’t know it doesn’t count, you know.”

He laughed harshly, the sound catching in his throat like thick mud. “It does,” he said, and his voice was hoarse from the lack of speech. “Of course it counts. It’s my honor, in the end…anyway, there’s no reason for me to lose my head over it. Sect Leader Wen’s powerful and influential; there are those who would cut off their right hands for a connection with him, much less an oath of brotherhood.”

He wasn’t even all that angry at Wen Ruohan for doing it, either, not really. There wasn’t much point – his few experiences with the other man so far showed that that was just what he was like, always taking instead of asking, and scheming was as innate to inter-sect politics as fighting. Might as well be angry at his grandfather for the ancestral weakness to liquor in the Lan lineage.

It had only been the shock of Cangse Sanren’s unexpected actions that had made it feel like a knife stabbed into his back, a scabbed-over wound suddenly ripped open again.

“You didn’t trust him,” Cangse Sanren pointed out. “You trusted me. And I scared you.”

Perhaps that was true.

“You’re still you, you know. Even while drunk.” She chuckled. “You talk more, care less what people think of you; you’re a little more willing to stand up for yourself, a little more bitter, a little less consciously kind. You told me all about music, something that went over my head, then went to sleep in just the right and proper way, albeit right on the floor. I had to wait until you were asleep to shave you.”

That was a relief to hear. Lan Qiren hated the idea of being so vulnerable.

Although – perhaps he wasn’t. According to Lao Nie, he’d apparently kneed Wen Ruohan in the balls that night for bothering him with nonsense or possibly for trying to leave before he finished explaining something, sometime either before or after their oath.

(After, he assumed. If it had been before, it seemed more likely that he would’ve ended up dead.)

“Anyway, I wouldn’t have done anything serious,” she added. “You wouldn’t have woken up married or anything.”

“It’s not you,” he assured her hastily, alarmed by the thought. “I didn’t mean to imply anything about your character, which I know is good; I know you wouldn’t have done anything like that. It’s only – you don’t always know what people think is enough, coming from the immortal mountain as you do. If someone really wanted to push the issue, or if you didn’t have the background you did, just you being in my room unattended might’ve served as an excuse. And then where would we be?”

She was silent for a while.

“You really don’t want to be married to me,” she finally said. “You’re not playing games or anything; you really don’t.”

Lan Qiren felt something lurch in his chest.

“No,” he said, painfully honest. “Did – did you?”

“Maybe a little,” she said, and Lan Qiren winced. The possibility hadn’t even occurred to him, not even when others had suggested it.

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” she said, and her voice was warm. “Don’t worry about me, Qiren; I’ll get over it soon enough. There’s no pain I won’t forget a day later, never learning anything, it’s just the way I am.”

He gnawed on his lower lip. “…can I ask why?”

“Why you, you mean?” He could hear her shrugging through the door, the fabric of her clothing rustling against the wall she was leaning against. “You care about things, deeply and truly. Rules, honor, the right path…I like the way you think, the way you care. You have a good heart and a good brain. Why not you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and felt rather a wretch over the whole thing. “I didn’t mean to…to…”

She laughed. “You didn’t lead me on, Qiren! You only ever treated me as a friend, and I was, I think. Maybe still am?”

“You are,” he said, and looked down as his guqin, then sighed, picking it up and going to the door. There was no point in pretending to be in seclusion now that the knot in his heart had loosened, and he was starting to get hungry. “Come on, let’s go. I feel a need to graze on the kitchen’s leftover vegetables, as if I were a wild rabbit.”

She beamed up at him, round face shining like the moon.

The next day, after he finished doing penance for missing classes without advance notice – two dozen strikes, but no more – Lan Qiren went down the mountain and purchased some tea said to have especially strong stimulant properties, and gave it to Cangse Sanren.

She blinked at it, then looked at him.

“If you brew this in the morning, you won’t be so tired all the time,” he told her, and shrugged. “Since we’re friends and all.”

He didn’t have that many friends – so few as to not even have recognized her as being one. He was determined to cherish them.

She smiled.

The next day after that, there was surprising news in the Cloud Recesses, the gossip reaching the classroom faster than the messenger sent there specifically for that purpose.

Wen Ruohan had come to pay a visit.

#mdzs #lan qiren #cangse sanren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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hellorebecca · 4 years ago

Text

Back From the War

Some 80s era Stancest I wrote a while back. Inspired by some of @nekoaimy‘s posts on the subject.

*****************************************

"So, um, you okay?" Stan asked, his hands unsteady.

Ford nodded, and sipped from his mug of coffee. "I feel better, now."

"Okay," said Stan. He breathed out a sigh, ran a hand through his hair. "Okay."

It was almost surreal, remembering the events of the past hour: him and Stanley fighting over the journal in the portal room, him branding his brother's shoulder (and oh, was that going to leave a mark), the shove, the panic that filled him as he floated above the room--

Then, the rope, the relief, as he was slowly pulled back to earth by his brother's strong arms.

Stanley cleared his throat, snapping Ford out of his reverie. "So, what's up?" he asked, a look of concern on his face. "You kinda spaced out for a second there."

Ford shook his head. "Just thinking over the day's events," he said softly. Then: "How's your shoulder?"

Stan looked ashamed, as if he had been the one who had burned his own brother. "I mean, it hurts, but... it's fine, really. I mean, I can still use it." He rotated his right arm for emphasis. Ford couldn't help noticing the wince that Stan made at moving it around.

“Let me take a look at that,” he said, setting his mug down and reaching his hand towards his brother’s wound.

Stan hesitated; then, he slowly took off his jacket and shirt, carefully avoiding touching the cloth to the brand. Ford drew in a deep breath as he took in Stanley’s bare back. His muscles were cushioned under a layer of fat, and there were scars scattered across his skin. There was one particularly nasty one, just above his waist, that Ford wished he could ask about, but he just didn’t have the time.

Right. The brand. “How badly does it hurt?” asked Ford, as he carefully inspected the still-blistering scar.

“Honestly, it’s not too bad,” Stan answered. “I mean, I’ve definitely had worse.”

“Hmm.” Ford gingerly touched the tips of his fingers to Stan’s brand; he couldn’t help his heart from sinking when Stan flinched away from that. “Well, first we need to clean it, of course.” He went to the cabinet and got out a rag and the first aid kit. He ran the faucet cold over the rag, and added a little dish soap for good measure. Gently, he washed the burn, taking care not to pop any of the blisters. He then fished out a tube of aloe vera from the first aid kit.

“Pull your hair back for me,” said Ford. “I don’t want this to get messy.”

Stanley did as he was told, and Ford carefully spread the lotion over his brother’s charred skin. As he did so, he thought of long, hot summer nights, when they would rub aloe vera into each others’ sunburned backs. It was a good memory, and Ford felt a pleasant shiver thinking about it. Stan let out a sigh of relief, apparently releasing some of the tension from what had happened that night.

“Good, good,” said Ford, as he checked his handiwork. “Now I just need to cover it with a bandage.”

“You’re not gonna kiss it better?” asked Stan.

“No,” said Ford, suppressing a laugh. “It just wouldn’t be sanitary.”

“Ah,” Stan replied, and if Ford didn’t know any better, he’d almost say Stan sounded… disappointed. “Well, alright.”

Ford took out the gauze and the medical tape from the first aid kit and said, “Um, I can kiss you, though.”

“What?”

“If you want me to,” Ford added. “Not… not on the lips, of course, but I can kiss you. Just—just say where.”

“Um.” Stan craned his neck towards Ford. “Are you serious?”

Ford grew oddly hot. “I mean, ah, touch has been known to lower the body’s stress levels, which can help with, with the healing process—That’s... why I suggested it.”

“Ah,” said Stan, turning his head away from Ford again. “So you’re just being a weirdo.”

Ford swallowed. “Stanley, I...”

Stan waved him off. “It’s fine. Just… bandage me up, man.”

There was no point in disobeying that, so Ford carefully positioned the gauze on Stan’s burn wound, then applied the tape to make it stick. “We’ll need to reapply the bandage every day until the burn fully heals,” he said when he was done.

“‘We,’” Stan repeated. He turned around to face Ford. “Does that mean I’m staying?”

It was strange, how shocking Ford found the question. “I guess so,” he answered, considering his words carefully. “At least, for now. But—Stanley, it’s not… safe, here.”

“Because of the portal.”

Ford nodded. “Not just that, but yes.”

Stan groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “So, when do I need to leave?”

Ford held up a hand. “Stanley...”

“No, no, it’s...” Stan starting pacing around the kitchen, gesturing wildly. “I mean, I know you don’t—well...”

Ford caught Stan by the chin. “Stanley, please, just—listen to me.”

“C’mon, Stanford, it’s fine,” said Stan, who still resisted meeting Ford’s eyes. He sounded like he was going to cry. “If you don’t want me around...”

That definitely wasn’t true, so Ford needed to prove it false. If he was any less sleep-deprived, he might have done something else. As it was, his brother’s chin still in his hands, he laid a kiss upon Stanley’s lips.

Stanley tasted of cheap cigarettes and stale coffee, but Ford didn’t mind, far more interested in the way Stan warmed up to the kiss, tense at first but soon kissing back, running his hands through Ford’s hair. It was the culmination of everything they had been dancing around for a long, long time.

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna do that,” Stan gasped out, once they broke away.

Ah, right. The offer he made from earlier. “Guess I lied,” Ford panted.

They drew in for another kiss, deeper, more passionate. It left them so breathless and panting that it took a while before either of them spoke again.

“So, why can’t I stay, for real?” asked Stan. “Because I know there’s something there.”

Damn. Stanley knew Ford all too well. “There’s… an entity, that takes control of my mind when I sleep. I don’t want it to harm you,” Ford admitted, as much as he was willing to admit.

“Is that why you’re so strung out?”

Ford nodded. “Mostly, yes.”

Stan grunted and lifted himself about the counter, sitting on the countertop. It would annoy Ford were he not so charmed at the moment. “Okay, so, is there like, a way we can get that—thing out of your head?”

“There is one way I know of.” Ford scrubbed his face and frowned. “But it involves dealing with creatures that I’ve found to be—quite frustrating, in the past.”

Stan looked at Ford expectantly. “Well?” he asked.

“You’re going to laugh,” Ford replied glumly.

“C’mon, just tell me!”

“Unicorns,” Ford answered.

Stan let out a loud guffaw, and for a moment Ford truly hated him. “What, ain’t they really fond of virgins?”

“Actually, no,” said Ford stiffly. “Though the requirements for dealing with them seem just as strict as in legend. And by the way, I’m not a virgin.”

Stan grinned. “Sure you’re n--”

“Would a virgin kiss you as well as I just did?” Ford replied smugly. He took a certain amount of pleasure in the shock on Stan’s face.

“Man, you really have changed,” said Stan. “Gone a long way since your ‘kissing machine’ days.”

Ford groaned. “Please don’t mention the kissing machine, Stanley.” He took the journal off the kitchen table and started flipping through the entries. “Anyway, if you’re really serious about this--”

“Of course I’m serious,” Stan retorted.

“I’ll warn you again, unicorns are not easy to deal with,” said Ford. He found the entry on unicorns in the journal and handed it to Stan. “Their standards for good behavior are very exacting. I doubt you’d be able to live up to them.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan grumbled. He seemed upset by Ford’s assertion. He always had carried a chip on his shoulder on being the lesser of the two Pines twins. “I’ll just kill one of them, so what?”

“Stanley...” Ford started.

“What, they need to be alive?”

“No, you’ll just need the hair from their manes,” answered Ford. “But killing a horse—or horse-like creature—can be harder than it looks.”

“Eh.” Stan shrugged. “I mean, I killed a llama once.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “Lama-with-one-L or llama-with-two-Ls?” he asked.

“Llama as in the weird animal with the long hair,” Stan said with an eyeroll. “Cripes, you’re a nerd.”

“Technically, that could describe both--” Ford got a poke in the ribs. “Oof. But seriously, are you sure you want to do this?”

“I mean, if it’ll keep you safe,” said Stan. He looked down at his bare chest. “Though, uh, I’m gonna need some clothes that haven’t been singed.”

Ford looked Stanley over. He was still naked from the waist up, and though that was fine for an evening of making out, it was less than ideal for a night in the cold and snow.

“Hang on,” said Ford. “There are some sweaters in my room.” He dashed over there as quick as he could, unable to suppress the irrational worry that Stan would be gone by the time he got back. He fished through his drawers and found a bright and cheery Christmas sweater, a gift from Fiddleford when they were still in college. (Ford didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was Jewish and had never celebrated. It was good at its main purpose, at least, which was keeping warm.)

Back in the hallway, he was struck by the sudden realization that this was real, that he had really kissed his brother and his brother kissed him back. It was funny, how repressed they both had been about it, and how open they were now. He supposed it made a certain amount of sense—incest was a Rubicon that neither of them were prepared to cross, even as odd a pair as they had been, but once they set their mind on something, there was no doubt, if it were in any way possible, they would get it.

Once they put their mind on something, there was no doubt they would get it. Ford smiled at the thought, and hurried back to the kitchen. He found Stan sitting on a chair, a far more reasonable position than the counter. “Here,” he said, and handed Stan the gaudy sweater.

“Bit late to be wearing this,” said Stan, looking it over.

Ford shrugged. “If it keeps you warm.” He grabbed his coat from his chair. “Here, wear this, too. Do you still have your gloves and hat?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Stan grumbled. “I’m not gonna freeze to death, Ford.” He grunted as he struggled to put on the sweater.

“Careful,” said Ford. He helped pull the sweater down. “You still need to look out for that shoulder.” He gave his brother a quick peck on the cheek.

“Heh heh.” Ford enjoyed the way Stan blushed. Stan cleared his throat. “Alright, so they live in this glade, right?” Stan said, as he put on the coat. “Shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be back in a jif.”

“Stay safe, Stanley.” Ford squeezed his brother’s hand. “Remember to come home in one piece.”

“I will,” Stan replied softly. He pat Ford on the shoulder, then pulled him into a brief kiss. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone, knucklehead.”

“Okay, okay,” Ford said with a soft laugh. He watched Stanley go out of the house and into the unknown, once again the brave hero of their youth. For the first time in a long while, he felt a deep, sustaining hope, one that would last him the rest of their lives.

#Stancest #I'm in the mood for sap okay so sue me #my drabblings

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years ago

Note

hiya !! i love you lots and lots !!💖 all your writing is absolute gold 🥺💕💕💕 your answers are so detailed and sweet, makes my heart go doki doki — if you’re still taking requests & it’s not too much trouble could i ask for C U Y for mozart perhaps ? many a thank 💖💕💖💕💖💕

Hello!! Omg of course you can sweetheart, thank you for such sweet praise! I do my best, I hope you enjoy these answers for our dearest Mozart~ 💖💖💖 Ily3!! it’s always a pleasure to see you!!! :D 💕💕💕

I placed a cut before the last one because it was long, but all you need to do is click to see the rest! All wholesome, no content warnings ;)

(These are so long you can hear the Mozart stan in me OTL the limit of my Wolfie love does not exist)

Fluffy ABC Headcanons listed here for requests!

C = Cuddling (how does he like to cuddle?)

(Awwwww shit, I’m softe ;-;)

Mozart tends to be a very private man about his love, so I don’t see him cuddling too much in any kind of public space. The only exception to this rule, however, is that blasted carriage! Though he’s a little mortified he needs comforting, he will melt into MC’s arms when they have a particularly bumpy/bad carriage ride. Usually he’ll try to content himself with holding her hand, or just chatting with her--leaning his head close to her shoulder. But she seems to sense how overwhelmed he is this time; how his hands are locked together to conceal their shaking, his jaw visibly tightening. She’ll draw him into her, settling his head against her shoulder/chest--right where he can hear her heartbeat. He’ll freeze at first before he sinks into her embrace, arms wrapping around her waist. His ears are burning with color, his fair skin easily revealing a blush, but she knows now isn’t the time to tease him about it. His breathing will calm bit by bit, and he’ll settle quickly as his grip around her tightens a little. He’s pouting but it’s clear just how much he needed this, murmuring “Danke, Meine Liebe.” She just drops a kiss to the side of his head, signalling there’s no need for any shyness or thanks, she’s happy to do it after all c;

Another way I see them cuddling is at night in their bed no sexy times, get your head out of the gutter kids. Usually he’ll be doing revisions and composing well into the night, mulling over possible adjustments and melodies single-mindedly. He’ll be sitting up against the headboard, sheet music in his lap as he reviews each page. He loves it when she just climbs into bed and settles against him; whether that means fully climbing into his arms and resting against his chest, or just laying her head against his stomach/lap. He’ll smile fondly and stroke her hair, letting the smooth texture calm him into clarity as she dozes off. These are the moments when inspiration finds him most powerfully, the lovely sight of his muse working wonders.

U = Upset (how does he act when she’s upset?)

Oh my god send help, send help he needs some milk!!!

All jokes aside, I truly think Mozart is at a loss at the sight of her upset ;-;. If he’s not the source of the distress, he immediately goes into comfort and resolution mode. He will try to calm her with all the sensitivity she deserves, offering a hanky and holding her close if she’s crying. He hates to see her cry, but he also understands that in this moment she needs to let it all out, to just feel it through before they can do the work of fixing things. He'll murmur sweet nothings--not that he wants her to stop crying--but that he’s here for her, that it’s all going to be okay and that’s a promise. When she’s ready to talk or feeling up to sharing he will listen intently, silent as a grave, until she’s communicated her feelings.

When she feels heard and comforted, only then will he ask her to wait a moment. He’ll return with freshly made hot cocoa--only the best for Meine Liebe--and hopes the warmth will be able to help soothe her further, focusing her senses elsewhere. If she wants it, he will play music for as long as it takes to relieve any stress/crying headaches. When she manages to fall asleep from the exhaustion, he’ll tuck her into bed and hold her close. He will turn off the lights, but by no means is he going to sleep. He will spend another few hours seething with rage at whoever/whatever it was that hurt her so that she doesn’t have to see him like that (he doesn’t want to distress her further). Or, if it’s something more abstract, he will spend that time trying to puzzle out a solution.

If she’s only mildly upset, he’ll call Schelm to the balcony and hope the fluffy friend will be able to take her mind off of things. He’ll hug her close and rock her gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, waiting until she just relaxes against him. As mentioned before, he’ll make hot cocoa, play music, ask her about the flowers she’s tending; just about anything he knows will make her perk up in an instant. He’s pretty simple and straightforward, but it’s because he pays attention to what works and he’s sincere--he’s very consistent in his affection. From afar it’s obvious he’s concerned because he will smile very gently at her, and whenever she turns around his face drops to his neutral/thoughtful expression; you can hear the cogs in his brain moving. It would be funny if the poor guy wasn’t so worried HAHA

Now then, here comes the real doozy. While it happens less and less the deeper they get into their relationship (their understanding of how the other works solidifies into trust), now and again Mozart pulls a stupid. He will know immediately when he’s fucked up because her expression tightens and shuts down, concealing every feeling from him. (She's hyperaware that she can sometimes be more irrational than him, so she locks down her thoughts and emotions.)

She’ll walk away because she doesn’t want to explode and needs a moment to just calm down, reassess. He knows she needs time--and so does he to figure out a proper way to apologize--but fuck if those few days don’t make him wither in self-loathing. He hates it when he says things he doesn’t mean, things that were remnants of a bygone era because they were sentiments that deserved to die. He hates that when he gets stressed out he is prone to verbally lashing out; and he needs to learn how to work at a reasonable pace instead of doing too much and hating every second of his life. He needs to find balance, both for his own sake and because he can’t stand that look. The look that says “not you, too. Please, don’t.” You want the quickest way to gut Mozart? There you have it. Part of it was that she had given him that same look when he first yelled at/intimidated her in that first week at the mansion, and it’s still something he deeply regrets doing. He shouldn’t have frightened her when she was already scared out of her wits and threatened by Arthur. The mere prospect of stooping to that level makes him nauseous and angry he would ever act with such indiscretion; he expects better of himself and he intends to be better than that. He may be a vampire now, but that doesn’t give him grounds to be a monster.

He doesn’t know squat about how to love someone, and maybe he doesn’t even deserve to be with her--but he’ll be damned if he hurts her without trying to amend what he’s done. When she’s calmed down she’ll return to him and try to apologize for the distance, but he won’t let her. He’ll tell her if anyone needs to apologize it’s him, and that he really does feel horrible about what he said. He’s going to promise to be more careful about his workload from now on, since that tends to be what makes him snap. But more importantly, he’s going to try to amend the behavior regardless of that. Anything that hurts her isn’t worth doing; he firmly believes that.

MC doesn’t worry too much after the few times it happens because he crushes the behavior in its tracks very, very quickly in the aftermath.

Y = Yes (how would he propose to her?)

Honestly? Mozart is the type to be a classic romantic when it comes to proposing to his beloved. While one can argue he really only takes music seriously, the same can be said for the person he has chosen to hold dear to his heart. He will spare no expense--no extravagance--in the process of wooing her. He believes that he needs to offer a proposal worthy of her and nothing less if he should seek to secure her hand in marriage.

He pulls out all the stops. He plans it all out to the minute. Buys her the perfect dress, rouge and assorted accessories, and tells her to prepare to enjoy herself all night--no other plans. She agrees easily, though she’s a little flustered by how much he’s spoiling her. When the time comes for them to head out he enters her room with an enormous bouquet of roses, and she’s just speechless as she seeks to soak them in a vase before they go. Dressed to the nines, he escorts her to a lovely restaurant where they dine together. She’s sparkling in her attire, nothing short of dazzling; it’s not just the champagne that’s bringing a light blush to his face. He spends most of that night psyching himself up, working to seem normal, and losing himself in her beauty. Not that he doubted his course of action before this moment--it just strikes him even more deeply how precious she is to him. He would never be here, smiling and laughing and enjoying himself, if it wasn’t for her.

And more than anything, he doesn’t want to give her up to anyone else. He wants to be the one to spoil her like this, wants to be the person she goes to first when she needs something. He wants to be the only one to know her most intimate thoughts and desires. He wants to be the one to make her smile like this, to make delight shimmer in those eyes--to be on the receiving end of such excited chatter. Every part of her is so very dear to him; the mere thought of giving her up makes him feel like he’s been hollowed out.

After dinner, he takes her to a concert hall he had rented out for the occasion. He plays a moving collection of pieces that she inspired (only the best) since coming to the mansion, since she filled his life with so much color. She’s already in tears at this point, and his heart aches at the sight of her eyes glistening--as moved as he is by music, one of their greatest commonalities.

He dries her tears gently with a hanky when it’s over, rising from the bench and coaxing her up with him. When she gazes at him in question, he drops to one knee and reveals the ring that has been heavy in his coat pocket all night. He considered a more extensive appeal, but something about rehearsing a proposal felt wrong, felt too wooden. Instead, he went with the words that were resounding from deep within his heart, the feeling that had brought him to this moment.

“Meine Liebe, you are the only reason my music can continue to thrive. But more importantly,” he presses a light kiss to her hand, squeezing it gently, “You are the only reason I can thrive as surely as my music does. I spent so long lost to myself; I had forgotten why I loved what I did in the first place.” His eyes are lowered, remnants of a surpassed shame lingering in his features. “If not for you, I suspect I’d still be ripping up half-filled scores, half-mad with frustration.”

“Wolf…” her voice is soft, but full of sympathy. It was that tender heart that saved him, that made him really able to live again.

“The prospect of life without you...I can’t imagine it anymore. I want to be the one to make you smile for the rest of your life, to ensure that these tears can only ever be happy ones. Will you make me the happiest man alive in return? Will you marry me?”

Needless to say MC goes straight back to crying after managing a breathless yes, and Mozart sags with relief before pulling her tight into his arms. He slips the ring onto her finger with no shortage of pride, as perfect on her hand as he’d imagined it would be.

Following his proposal, Mozart is even more smitten than ever. Whenever he wakes up before she does, he’ll gently take her left hand and marvel at the sight of the ring throwing rainbows in the morning light, sighing blissfully. When MC stops by to bring him Rouge/Blanc or coffee and a snack during the day, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the sight of it. “It’s nothing, MC!!! Composing is just...going well today...” Somebody help him his uwus are spilling everywhere

Mozart be like: look at me. serotonin is stored within the MC.

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp fluff #fluffy headcanons #can you hear me in love with our local softecore hardcore tsun AUGH #he is such a lowkey sweetie it absolutely kills me #i need to do more for him every second of writing these gave me life in the best possible way #tysm for the request lovely!!!#you have all my uwus always <333333 #i really hope you enjoy these :D #rambles #not incorrect quotes

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magioftheseas · 4 years ago

Text

Kazuichi & Yasuke

Summary: Souda Kazuichi’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. It’s also half and half but for more unfortunate reasons.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language and references to violence.

Notes: For REASONS, I ended up writing Souda’s FTEs when I initially intended to write Sonia’s. I’m disappointed in myself too, but...hm. I enjoyed writing these. I think it’s fun (?) to write social events where the two parties just don’t get along and that doesn’t change by the end. It’s played seriously, and I’m curious how people will take it. But I wrote these close to the heart!

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

“Blue skies! Beautiful beaches! Babes! By all accounts, this should be a dream come true! So, why—why, why, why, why, WHY does a guy like YOU gotta be here?!”

“That’s fucking rude,” Matsuda scoffed. “All I’m doing is reading.”

“You keep staring!” Souda accused, shaking his fist in frustration. “And I can feel ya judging, too!! Are you EVER in a good mood?!”

In reality, Souda had been the one to constantly steal glances instead of looking at his own damn magazine. Matsuda, subsequently, had gotten annoyed by it. He really had thought if he focused on his own manga, it’d be fine even with the dipshit mechanic present, but he was a fool. He was a real fucking fool.

Although not as much an idiot as this guy...

“You’re judging!” Souda screeched. “I know you are! Why do you have it out for me?!”

“I don’t,” Matsuda grumbled. “I barely consider you at all.”

“T-That’s hurtful, man! Real hurtful!” Souda even sniffled, he was so hurt by it. “This is why you don’t have any friends!”

...I could leave. I could just...leave. He’s not going to follow me. I could just leave and go someplace quiet.

But, because there wouldn’t be any events if he just left, he was stuck.

Great...

Souda was still glaring at him. He was glaring pretty hard, but also pretty...desperately.

“Even if your face freezes like that, it won’t make you more intimidating,” Matsuda muttered. “Actually no matter what you do, you can’t change that.”

Souda froze immediately. Matsuda gives him a look, but before he can say anything more, the guy flees the scene.

Had the line being broken?

Guess I hit a nerve.

Souda had even abandoned his magazine. Matsuda doubted the guy had the brain capacity to retrieve it later, although he himself hesitates before plucking it off the ground. Thankfully, while it was a little crumbled, it wasn’t sticky. Or oily.

Hm.

He should probably return it.

The first thing Souda did upon opening the door was let out a shriek. The second thing he did was slam it in Matsuda’s face.

This fucking guy...

Matsuda took a deep breath and knocked once more on the door.

“Nobody’s here!” Souda’s voice came through muffled. “A-And even if there were somebody—you’re not welcome!”

“For fuck’s sake—I’m just here to give you back your magazine, not because I...” Matsuda bit his tongue, kneeling down. “You know what, I’ll just shove it under...”

“Wait-wait-wait!”

The door was almost flung open, Souda now looking frantic.

“Don’t do that!” he exclaims. “You’ll wrinkle it! You’ll mess with the illustrations! Hasn’t anyone taught you how to treat a magazine?!”

Matsuda straightened up, handing it over without much more fanfare. Souda does take it, but he continues to grumble.

“Seriously, you’re such a slob. That’s like, super unsexy to women. H-Haven’t you heard?”

Matsuda wordlessly glances past into the mechanic’s cottage. There are some miscellaneous gears and gizmos scattered across the floor. Some bottles of what looked to be motor oil. It certainly stank of motor oil.

“Oh, this old thing?” Souda asked, mistaking his staring for interest. He grins suddenly and it might’ve been the first time he’s smile like that at Matsuda. “It’s a lil vroom-vroom I’m working on! Pretty spiffy, huh?”

...spiffy? That’s...something only elderlies would use... Not to mention that’s not even the correct usage?

“I guess you mean it’s neat,” Matsuda muttered.

“I know right?!” Souda exclaimed excitedly. “It’s real neat! It’s gonna be a real wham bam when I’m finished!”

“Right...”

“Right, right!” Souda agreed, nodding frantically now. “You get it, you get it! I guess even a jackass like you still has a right eye for this kinda thing, Matsuda. Just this once, I’ll let you have a closer look! Come in! Don’t be a priss!”

He worked himself up as usual, but I guess this time he at least did so positively.

Mortifyingly curious as to how far this could go, Matsuda does step inside. Souda eagerly gestures to the lump of metal on the ground. Matsuda looks at it closely and—yet.

It’s a lump...of metal. Incredible.

“This baby is gonna go places when it’s done,” Souda sighs happily. “I won’t be able to test it—but I’m sure of it. It’s gonna go far, kid!”

Show him how to lie. You’re getting better all the time.

“I’m sure it will,” Matsuda replied, doing his best to give a decent nod of approval. Souda does preen, but just like that—Souda realizes himself. And he realizes Matsuda.

Specifically, he re-realizes that he and Matsuda don’t have the best relationship.

“You’re not just saying that to make fun of me, right?! You almost got me going, too!”

Although he still seems confused about the intricacies of said relationship.

“It’s nothing like that,” Matsuda waved his hand, shaking his head for good measure. Souda seemed unconvinced, much to his annoyance. “I was just curious.”

Except he really wasn’t. He was the kind of guy who had about as much interest in cars as he did in answering surveys. Souda’s eyes narrowed sharply in suspicion and, seriously, where did this guy get off on presuming so much shit about him?

Matsuda sighed.

Whatever. I delivered the magazine back.

“If I’m not welcome here, I’ll leave.”

He’s not sure what he expected when he turned on his heel. He might not have expected anything, and indeed nothing really happened. He walked out of the cottage, shutting the door behind him, and walked the rest of the way back in silence.

Pretty uneventful overall, but it was still something.

“H-H-Hey! Matsuda!”

He supposed he wasn’t really expecting to be called out. When he turned, however, he was already prepared.

“What is it? You better clarify because you’re on a different frequency than I am.”

“Eh? Come on, dude, it’s not like we’re speaking different languages here!” Souda huffed, shoving his hands into his jumpsuit pockets. “I’m just...trying to get yer attention. It’s...like...”

He’s slurring his words a bit.

“You made me feel bad, y’know,” Souda grumbled. “With the way you left. I’m just checking because the last thing I need is you having another reason to...”

“You really are convinced I have something against you, huh,” Matsuda droned, unimpressed. “Would you believe me if I told you that I really don’t care?”

Souda groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Of course you don’t care. You’re a jackass.”

He’s not wrong...but he’s also not right. Not caring goes both ways.

“Hm.” They’d just go in circles at this rate, so it was best to change tactics. “You’re...”

Aah, what to say? Not my type? Not really understanding? This guy...

“You’re here because you say you felt bad.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something,” Souda huffed. “Like...a brain guy, right?”

“Right.” That doesn’t mean I understand every irrational, idiotic choice a person makes. “I understand the physical sciences. Psychology, however, is its own thing.”

“I mean, I know that,” Souda said, sounding completely unconvincing. “It’s like—the difference between fixing and programming. I can fix a computer, but when it comes to all the typing, clicking, and trouble...finding... I don’t get that stuff.”

“Troubleshooting,” Matsuda corrected.

“Computers aren’t my thing anyway,” Souda went on, unbothered. “I’m more of a vehicle guy!” He lit up so easily. “Like! Vroom, vroom! Wham bam!”

He made other engine noises for that matter.

Matsuda would lie if he said he didn’t find it mildly amusing.

Any moment the two could have had was quickly ruined, however.

“Anyway! There! I spoke to ya!” Souda twisted away. “We’re good, then!”

...it’s not like I’m expecting an apology, but what a shitty fucking thing to just say. And to say loudly, at that.

“Argh! Not good?!” Souda flinched, cowering. “You’re giving me that awful judge-y look again! What is your PROBLEM?!”

For once, the glare was intentional and only intensified, making Souda crumble and whimper.

“C-Cut it out, seriously...! You’re going to make me cry!”

“Is that really my problem?” Matsuda asked coolly. “This is just how my face looks a lot of the time. I can’t control that but you could be less of a fucking coward.”

“I’m not...a coward,” Souda muttered, pulling down his beanie. “I-I’m not! You’re just... You’re such an ass! Seriously! Seriously! How the hell is someone like you—?!”

“Someone like me?” he prodded, eyes half-lidded. Souda recoils whenever he makes any attempt at coming closer. Sure, this dipshit is easily spooked and intimidated, but...

Is there more to it?

“Q-Quit it,” Souda squeaked. “S-Stooooop...”

It’s not...my appearance, is it?

Matsuda backed off anyway, playing with his hair to stave off the irritation. Fidgeting could only do so much.

“I really don’t get it,” Souda said, then, and it sounded almost morose. “It pisses me off so much that you’re the kind of guy that’s just...popular with girls.”

Matsuda pinched a lock of hair hard enough to dig his thumbnail into his finger pad. The pinch did little to soothe his nerves.

I’m more or less hopeless when it comes to tech. A wrench in my hand would only ever be used as a weapon. But, this guy...

“That’s definitely not my problem.”

He’s incredibly basic.

“Maybe you should just take more showers?”

“LIKE YOU’RE ONE TO TALK?!”

A basic bitch for sure.

“Hmm.”

“NO COMEBACK?!”

Matsuda stuck his tongue out, Souda screamed in frustration.

The rest went about as well as anyone could expect.

“This really is just the wooooorst,” Souda laments, sounding dangerously close to a sob. “For my first field trip ever, to have it be such a bust is just the woooorst.”

“First time?” Matsuda asked, only feigning curiosity as he flipped the page. He didn’t care, but any conversation was better than listening to more whining. All Matsuda did was sit down to read and he was too spiteful and stubborn to leave when he hadn’t done anything. “Skipped the one in middle school?”

The reason I didn’t go was to study, but for a guy like this...

“Huh? Oh, yeah...” Souda shrugged. “I uh, faked being sick and stayed home instead. Not like I could go with how poor my folks were—not like I wanted to go with how shitty my boring asshole classmates were. My old man was pissed though. Beat the shit out of me.”

“I guess overcompensation ran in the family,” Matsuda muttered, but Souda hadn’t heard him.

“He knew we couldn’t afford it, too,” he just went on. “We had this bike shop but like—not super, uh...”

“Profitable?” Matsuda guessed, to which he nodded along.

“Yeah, people just wanted to fix tires and pump air. We barely sold anything.” Souda sighed loudly before grinning and pointing to himself with a jerk of his thumb. “But! Yours truly still turned out to be a genius mechanic! From bikes to cars! Toys to appliances! You got it, I fix it!”

“You’d make a lot more money as a mechanic than a bike salesman,” Matsuda noted. “It’s a well-paying and sought-after service.”

“I’ve been taking apart and reconstructing things since I could walk,” Souda said proudly. “Even though my old man is just—hopeless!”

“Hopeless,” Matsuda echoed disinterestedly.

“That said, I was still looking forward to this trip,” Souda sighed again. “It sounds nice to go on a trip with friends and stuff, but...you and I are like...the furthest thing from friends.” He does perk up when he remembers, “I guess Hinata’s alright. He’s kinda cool. A real soul bro. Soul pal? Soul friend!”

In that case, why aren’t you seeking his company?

Matsuda’s not quite that petty. Not to mention how childish it’d make him sound while asking that aloud. It’s not like he has a problem with Souda and Hinata getting along.

Although...

Hinata has a thing for Komaeda. That might end up complicating that soul bromance or whatever down the line.

Not that it had anything to do with him.

“I have an unlikeable personality,” he just reminded Souda sardonically. “I didn’t come to Hope’s Peak expecting or wanting to make friends.”

The idea is just...absurd. I haven’t been able to connect with peers in over a decade, why the hell would that change now?

“I know!” Souda groused. “Which is why! A guy like you just shouldn’t be LIKED by girls! Who knows how you’d treat them! If you don’t watch yourself, your alarm clock’s gonna get modified into a ticking time bomb!”

“Try it, coward,” Matsuda snapped, making him falter back. “I fucking dare you.”

“E-Eep...! W-Why do you have to make such a scary face, Matsuda...?!”

“...it’s just how I look.”

Haaaah. This is exhausting. So...exhausting.

“Bad looks and a bad personality, but even you can admit I’m a genius, yeah?” Matsuda turned away. “When you’re smart, people flock to you either as a crutch or a springboard. Especially when you’re young.”

“I mean, I’m a genius too,” Souda grumbled. “I actually could just...modify clocks into bombs if I...really wanted to...”

“I want to change the very scope of neurology,” Matsuda went on, ignoring him this time. “I’m going to make it so that no person will ever be lost to us again.”

“Wait...you’re gonna like...cure death?” Souda asked, gawking. “T-That’s...dude...!”

Matsuda couldn’t help but smirk, all too aware of the growing alarm in the mechanic’s eyes.

“If you could just upload a person’s consciousness to a computer like a program... That’d change more than just our understanding of the brain. It’d challenge our understanding of humanity itself.”

Souda went pale.

“T-That’s, uh...”

“Of course it’s pretty unlikely,” Matsuda said, shaking his head. “And so absurdly sci-fi to the point of fantasy.”

But... It could have been possible at Hope’s Peak. Not on this stupid fucking island though.

“It was a joke. You’re supposed to laugh.”

Souda was left in stunned silence.

“I guess it was a bad joke,” Matsuda admits grumpily.

“Y-You know, I, uh... I just wanted to make a rocket ship someday,” Souda says, slowly and stupidly unsure. “But, you, uh... Your ambitions are fucking scary. Count me out.”

Just like that, Souda stood up and left. Without another word.

That was more or less what Matsuda learned to expect.

I really do just have a bad personality.

He knows this already, obviously. But it’s a fact that gets hammered in sometimes. Especially right now, when he sees Souda chatting amicably with Hinata. Souda’s wearing a smile that’s only been directed at Matsuda a couple of times. Even when Souda falters, Hinata ends up saying something that makes him perk right back up.

Hinata’s not that social of a guy in the first place.

The two of them banter with ease even when it’s clear that Hinata still gets exasperated by the other’s antics. Then—something is said. Souda’s expression changes into one of frustration and unease. Hinata’s worried, but when Souda excuses himself, Hinata makes no move to follow him. Likely to give the other space. Be respectful. All that.

Matsuda does trail after Souda, however. He’s not a considerate or patient guy. It’s why he doesn’t have any friends.

“Urgh, hate this, hate this, hate this,” Souda’s muttering under his breath through gritted teeth. “Seriously, why did this have to happen? There’s no escape...the ships and planes are useless...no engines... What the hell can I even do...?!”

“Boo.” Matsuda blew into the mechanic’s ear. “Gimme your lunch money.”

Souda screamed loud enough to blow off mountaintops. Matsuda thankfully had the foresight to cover his ears.

“M-M-M-MATSUDA?!” Souda yelped. “What the actual FUCK was that?!”

“A prank,” is his droning response. “You can laugh now.”

“THAT SHIT WASN’T FUNNY!” Souda screeched back. “Y-You, you, you—! Fucking watch it! I’m not in any mood to be messed with!”

Matsuda waved his hands.

“Alright, alright.”

Souda gave him a withering look. After a while, he backed up even more.

“...why are you here? A-Are you here to...?”

Matsuda waved his hands again, shaking his head for good measure.

“If I were, I wouldn’t have gotten your attention.”

“T-That could just be part of the trap!” Souda sputters. “Y-You... You’re not playing with me, are you?!”

...I was, but not because I wanted to murder you. Jeez. I like to think I’d be more pragmatic.

“You’re free to scream, then,” he said simply. “Scream as loud as you can. It can even be my name if you want.”

Souda shuddered.

“U-Urgh...dude, seriously... You’re just messed up,” he groans, burying his face into his hands. “What I’d give for a vehicle to get as far from you as possible. Even if I get sick afterward, it’d be worth it.”

“Haha,” Matsuda droned without a hint of mirth. “Sure.”

“Come to think of it, if anyone would be tempted to be the one to escape at the expense of everyone else...” Souda does raise his head to give him a look.

Matsuda stared back.

“You don’t know me,” he said. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“I-I don’t know,” Souda huffed, feigning assurance. “I think I’ve been around ya long enough to get a good idea of your character. And you’ve got like—scary ambitions.”

I’m not a considerate person, nor am I patient. I know I should be. It would ultimately make my life a lot easier.

“By that logic, I must know you pretty well in return,” he said.

Souda scoffed.

“Yeah, right. You’re just trying to psyche...”

“Dyed hair. Contacts.” Matsuda gestures to the entirety of him. “The way a person chooses to look says a lot about them.”

Souda’s mouth immediately shut, all blood draining from his face. It was easy. Too easy.

“Wonder what happened? Was it just bullying? Or a betrayal?” Matsuda went on. “People who change their natural appearance like that usually have something deeper to throw away.”

“Don’t—talk about shit you have no idea about...!” Souda growled. “It’s none of your damn business!”

He’s so basic.

It’s true I don’t know what I’m talking about, but you’re still falling for it, aren’t you?

“I’m not the traitor,” he says simply. “If I were, I’d manipulate you to like me. You’re about as easy to play as a cheap kazoo.”

Being a little cruel, aren’t you?

His head’s starting to hurt. For some reason—he himself feels sick. And Souda, well...

Souda’s already sniffling. In tears. Whatever he tries to say just comes out as blubbering. It’s pitiful. So much so that Matsuda pulls back with a groan.

His head really, really hurt. He rifles through his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and a pill bottle. He lays the former on top of Souda’s quivering head before prying open the bottle. As he turns on his heel, he pops a couple into his mouth and swallows them dry with a groan.

He needed a nap after all that, thus he’s on his way.

“Hey. You.” Souda jerked his thumb off to the distance. “We’re going. We need to have a talk.”

“Huh. Kay.”

Once they got to the beach, Souda took several deep breathes. Psyching himself up for what was to come.

There really were only a number of ways things would culminate. A simple exchange of words was not going to be it.

“Y-You—!”

At the same time, when Souda spun on his heel—

“OOF! L-Let go! Let go!”

Matsuda was a bit surprised that Souda had the gall to throw a punch first. Not so surprised that he lacked the reflexes to dodge, to seize the mechanic by the arm. He threw the mechanic down, pinning him down front-first into the sand with Matsuda sitting on his back. Souda yelped when his arm was twisted in Matsuda’s grip.

“L-Let go,” he choked out, slapping the sand. “U-Urgh... Urgh...!”

His eyes were screwed shut, likely to keep the sand out.

“S-Seriously?! You couldn’t let me throw one punch for what an asshole you’ve been?!”

“I mean, if you want to upset the princess, that’s your prerogative,” Matsuda hummed before pulling back. “Unfortunately, I don’t like getting punched if I can avoid it.”

“T-Then what about—?!” Souda ended up coughing. The idiot must have inhaled some sand. Feeling bad for him, Matsuda helped him to his feet. Souda’s still coughing pitifully. “Urgh... You’re suuuuch a piece of wooooork.”

“I carry scalpels around,” Matsuda reminded him, making him freeze. A look of fear and then—that fright melted into exasperation.

“Alright,” Souda sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Alright, I get it. You really like flaunting, don’t ya? You’re the worst.”

Matsuda hummed, but Souda went on.

“Y’know...you’re scarily good at reading people, too. You were right about me. I changed my appearance to throw my old self away,” he admits. “I used to be a cowardly loser who thought highly of anyone who bothered to give me the time of day. Even if they lied to me...even if they betrayed me. I was just too much of a wimp to admit that I was being taken advantage of.”

I was just guessing, Matsuda internally admitted. And I still think you’re a coward and a loser. But for different reasons.

“Accepting vulnerability is the first step,” he ended up saying. “You can’t just say you’ll change even if you’re dramatic about it.”

“W-Well, a lot did change when I...changed...” Souda trails off.

“But not the kind of positive change you were hoping for,” Matsuda guessed again. “Were you uncomfortable?”

Souda blanched.

“God, I hate to admit it, but...you’re too sharp for your own good.”

Matsuda said nothing.

“You’re smart. You’re really fucking smart.” Souda gritted his teeth and met his gaze head-on. “That’s why—I’m gonna keep my guard up around ya.”

“That’s fine,” Matsuda replied, shrugging. “There are people you can relax around, and people you can’t. I don’t blame you at all.”

“You’re fine with it,” Souda reiterated as if he wasn’t sure. “Even if...I never trust you...or believe in you... You’re just...fine with it?”

“I’m fine,” Matsuda repeated. “Are you?”

Souda flinched.

“I... Geez! Playing those sick head games with me again!” He shook his head furiously, covering it with his hands as if that’d be a good defense. “W-Well! I won’t let ya! Better fucking watch yourself, Matsuda! Don’t even THINK of trying anything funny!”

“Got it,” Matsuda droned with disinterest. “Would you like to shake on it?”

“K-Keep away from me,” Souda yelped, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Just—just stay the hell away from me! I’m gonna keep an eye on you, but... I don’t want to have to deal with you if I don’t have to!”

“Alright. Fine.”

Souda gave him a suspicious look. He got flustered and quickly turned away. Without looking at Matsuda, he blindly threw back the handkerchief. It only fluttered to the ground, landing in the sand.

“Save your pity,” Souda muttered darkly. “Goodbye.”

When Souda left, it was with an air of finality. Matsuda decided to just leave things like that between them.

Kneeling down to retrieve his handkerchief, Matsuda did pause for a moment. He shook the sand off the fabric.

“...I don’t plan on betraying anyone, not even you,” he spoke slowly and stupidly. “I do in fact...care about lives and I don’t want to see them lost.”

Would that have really been so hard to say?

He really did have such an awful personality. Even if it wouldn’t have worked out for him, it wouldn’t have hurt to have tried.

There are people you can relax around and people that you can’t. There are people you can be friends with and people you that can’t. People you should trust and people that you shouldn’t. You can’t always control which one you’ll be, because it all depends on how others feel. You can’t control that. Even if that’s technically true...

He feels like he’s making excuses. It feels bad.

His head hurting doesn’t help. As he gripped that handkerchief, he took notice of a crab burying itself in the sand down below.

I should do better. I should be better. Maybe if I tell myself enough times, it’ll happen.

#yasuke matsuda #matsuda yasuke #kazuichi souda #souda kazuichi #dr0 #sdr2 #Protag Matsun #Magi fics #SouMatsu #except not really #There's a lot I want to say but I want to know people's own raw thoughts #Unfiltered?

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45paperplates · 4 years ago

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More about Olivia Rodrigo: On her Voice

It’s been almost a month since Olivia Rodrigo’s album came out and since my obsession shows no sign of fading soon I might as well put it to good use. From the beginning I’ve been captivated by her uncanny ability to express emotion through her voice but now I’m starting to realize how fully strange her voice actually is, that emotional dexterity requires originality which is necessarily weird. The strangeness is subtle because it is centralized, and so the songs can have an uncanny core with a very familiar pop ballad shell.

youtube

In the final chorus of “traitor” she holds the last syllable of that word through three ascending notes, starting with the “er” sound of the word’s typical American pronunciation and through the next two beats progressively opening the sound to an eventual hard “ah,” effectively leaving the word behind altogether and never fully pronouncing it. She often seems to insist, against conventional wisdom, on incorporating speech sounds into her singing, talking when she should be singing, and here, screaming when she should be enunciating.

I must assume that this is because of an intuitive need for specificity in expression, a particularly tricky and treacherously precise specificity here. This song is about her dissatisfaction with what is truly a very normal occurrence, an ex-partner moving on to another relationship faster than would be expected: a common human behavior and always ripe to be explained away by whomever might find comfort in doing so. The perpetrator never feels they have done wrong and so she risks attacking her listeners themselves if she missteps. It’s as if her despairing, elemental sense of unfairness is being squeezed through the tiniest of openings, between petulance on one side and self-doubt on the other. The word “traitor” itself isn’t specific enough to get through this hole, and therefore must be refined further. The same goes for her pronunciation of “paranoid” earlier in the song.

She plays around a lot at the low end of her voice, often touching the unsingable, and if not quite doing so affecting a strained raspiness and phlegmy chest tone that I can only describe as something like a groan of mourning (the descending “said it first to meee” on “happier”), an utterly inappropriate, almost perverse inclusion in a teenage heartbreak ballad, enough to upset the dignity of less empathetic and more socially-experienced listeners.

youtube

She begins “deja vu” with another kind of breathy low voice that slides around over the vocal cords and at times ceases to vibrate them entirely, a sort of wide-open piecemeal mixture of air and depth I personally associate with (in a much more pronounced form of course) Louis Armstrong singing “What a Wonderful World,” another perverse reference juxtaposed sound-collage style against the eye-wideningly unprompted falsetto that follows it, an acrobatically angelic sort of performance that would be sweet in a more expected setting but is here I think almost sickeningly pitiful in its objectively unjustified strain. Taken altogether this jump-cut from repose to borderline cringe must be diabolically calculated to exist at all, expressing the long-ruminated-upon pain of a supervillain, the kind of supervillain that people are always identifying with. The pregnant “huh?” just before the drums kick in isn’t really a question at all, although it is written into the song that way, because it is so overwhelmingly automatic, trance-like, involuntary. Olivia sings this whole first verse and chorus as if she has no other choice but to be wrong, as if she knows there is something fundamentally false about her accusation, as if she really doesn’t want to know at all the answer to the song’s question, but she is broadly compelled by her nature to ask against her will, by fate, by the self. It’s cosmic tragedy, not necessarily lyrically, but definitely vocally.

In case I sound like a nutjob I can provide proof of her interest in performing on just such a cosmic stage. “Rebel Without a Clue,” apparently written and performed when she was fifteen years old, apes a certain kind of singer-songwriter yearning so well that it took me a while to realize its lyrics are so vague as to border on meaninglessness. That is not bad at fifteen of course, but I think it is also proof of a voice-before-words tendency in her songcraft that will only benefit from further simplicity of lyrics and complexity of expression as she matures.

The song centers around “will I ever shake hands with time?” a line too louded and conceptually labyrinthine to carry the weight here that it could, but appropriate completely to the elevated intensity of the performance. She begins the song around a single held high note that she bends every which way, rather stubbornly refusing to turn it into a substantial melody, as if that would be crass. When she says “drink up my friend, my potion of emotion” or “I’m a rebel without a clue,” I don’t really know what these have to do with shaking hands with time necessarily, but they are related purely by the sustained tone in which they are sung.

youtube

If anything though, the song’s vagaries can only suggest together an existential subject, about the pain of participation and the struggle for an alternative:

Let’s sit, watch the trains all derail They want me to learn Well they can sit and watch me fail

Here is an almost joyous refusal to accept the parameters of one’s existence, and the palpable pain of the song comes from the reality that this voyeuristic pleasure at the expense of the world cannot be maintained statically but has to be achieved by an act of renunciation that is sometimes impossible or cruel. She feels, in other words, guilt. Pleasure and rage come from the temporary success and inevitable failure of any attempt to avoid fate, and sadness swallowing both comes from the regret of having attempted to do so in the first place. “I don’t really know who I am / And now you want me to change.” She sounds guilty for having even asked the simple question, “sitting in my room, what’s it all about?” as though questioning one's surroundings weren't one of the most basic human behaviors.

It is the mixture of this search for pure identity and regret for its failure in all of her best vocal performances--focused so far mostly but by no means necessarily around an attempt to find identity in another person--that makes her sing in the subtle but erratic way that she does, because to regret the past and yet simultaneously repeat it in real time is both fundamentally absurd and extremely normal. Just as I described her initially, the stranger she sounds, the more she sounds like herself. Thusly she can make this obtuse metaphysical quest sound as it should, like the most obvious and deeply relatable thing to hear in the world; like an image of basic, unstoppable, irrational desire; like pop music.

#Olivia Rodrigo #Louis Armstrong #Existentialism #Metaphysics #Singing #Pop Music #Sour #Philosophy #the rose song #hsmtmts

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whump-town · 4 years ago

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Spare the Rod, Spoil the Child

Warnings for torture, violence, puking, blood, and lots of heart-wrenching whump

Hotch is kidnapped.

(and just so you don’t have to keep refreshing your feed: @ishouldvebeenawelder)

It’s been… at least three days. He’s been given four meals and he thinks, or rather he’s assuming, that averaged one a day. Not that his stomach can handle the stale bread sandwiches thrown at him each time the door opens. He’d thrown up the first one. Stomach cramping painfully around the meager dry bun with a single slice of turkey.

A man-- lumbering and booming with each step-- had come in after he’d cleared his stomach of its contents. The man had kicked and hit until Hotch felt certain each and every bone in his body had cracked or broken. As the man walked away, his angered speech slurred by the heavy scent of alcohol, Hotch had laughed.

It wasn’t loud enough to draw any sort of attention his way. It had been a wheezing sound-- easily passible as labored breathing. But he’d laughed for so long and so hard his entire body hurt. It hurt worse. The irony was going to kill him. He’s not sure if it’s just his luck or what but only he would be kidnapped by an unsub who tortures his victims. The humor, of course, is that Hotch has only had one round. One round of the torture.

What do a couple of kicks and a punch or two compare to his childhood? To ducking blows from the man who’s supposed to teach you how to ride a bike?

Nothing. It doesn’t compare at all.

This might just be luck.

If he were able to remember. He knows the important things.

My name is Aaron Hotchner. I have a son, Jack. He’s turning five this fall. My team-- JJ, Spencer, Emily, Dave, Derek, and Penelope-- are looking for me.

But he can’t remember… why.

Cigarettes.

He's talking to-- He was talking to a teen in an alley. He remembers squinting, his head pounding as the lights from the street poured in. He'd chosen not to say anything when the obvious sixteen-year-old pulled out the pack of cigarettes. She was clearly less than thrilled to be talking to the cops-- lease of all him.

He scared her. He could see it in the tremble of her hands and the way she shuffled about. He’d been so distracted by trying to figure out the exact reason for her fear that he hadn’t seen the attack coming. She’d lured him in-- maybe unwilling or unknowingly-- and he’d paid that consequence.

The last thing he remembers is the cold, wet ground against his cheek and the stench of the cigarette smoke against his face.

And then the basement-- How much longer until they come?

His bones have forgotten this pain and his body aches from being held down, beaten, and left on the cold cement floor. He’s too old for this. For all of this.

There’s an infection steadily growing in the cut on his wrist from where his hands had been zip-tied behind his back. The fever is starting to get to his head but it’s hard to tell if that from the infection, the malnutrition (he really should start eating more), or the complete lack of sleep.

He’s pulled upright by a strong grip on his hair. Dazed and brain logged with fever he scrambles to find purchase and to get away from the pain. His eyes raise to the figure before him. A part of him, the strong unwavering Supervisory Special Agent, recognizes the danger the man before him posses.

But fear spikes through his sternum, spreading across his ribs. He’s stuck between the logic and the irrational. The part of his brain that’s always protected him-- don’t blink. Don’t think. Don’t react. And the part that is trembling and so exhausted from this mess.

“What are you now, tough guy?”

The man’s breath is putrid and there’s just enough of an alcoholic undertone that makes Hotch lose it. He’s thrown headfirst into the wall behind him and his head temple connects with the plaster, he’s painfully reminded of his childhood. His father’s big hands wrapping around his skinny wrist and hauling him up onto his feet. Knuckles breaking open his skin from a slap so hard that it jars his brain.

Another punch reigns down and he recoils from it despite knowing better.

Dad always hits harder when he flinches.

The fist connects with his right ear and the world falls silent as he feels the strong, immediate pain. He can feel his grunt tearing up through his throat but he can not hear it. He looks back up at the other man, confusion bleeding into his alarm. He can’t hear.

Fuck. He can’t hear.

The man says something, lurching forward as he does so. It’s meant to scare Hotch but that sort of behavior he sees on a daily basis and without the threat of whatever the man’s said… it falls short. Hotch just blinks up at him. That doesn’t go over well.

The next blow comes out of nowhere-- or maybe it’s coming but Hotch isn’t expecting the pain that rocks through the side of his face. He spits out the blood pooling in his mouth but he’s not quick enough and the taste, mixed with the knots his stomach is twisted into has him on his hands and knees bringing up stomach acid.

There’s little to no reprieve as the puking takes his breath and as he’s pulling in one, the UNSUB kicks his ribs. He falls flat on his back, stars dancing across his vision as he lays there in silent panic failing to breathe.

Reality blurs.

He’s confused. He doesn’t know how he got here to this cold, damp place. The pain that each breath he takes has is not new, this he knows. He knows this ache the way he knows his name. And no matter how many times he repeats his mantra to himself-- My name is Aaron Hotchner. I have a son, Jack-- things just aren’t right.

“Dad--” his head is whipped back, the grip on his hair forcing him to bare his neck. “Please,” he’s trembling, too weak to even lift his torso and relieve the feeling. Time passes but it has no concept, he has no ability to feel it. He just knows that it hurts. “I’m sorry.”

He wakes up on his stomach, blood running into his eyes. He can’t remember why.

Placing his fingers to his lips, he repeats his mantra to himself. Feeling the way his lips move over his hand. He is real. This is all real.

A blinding light.

“Dave,” he lifts his head from the cement but curls in as a coughing fit wracks his sore ribs. The whimper that leaves his mouth falls deaf to his ears-- the world fell silent a long time ago. “Dave, why--” the older man is saying something but Hotch can’t hear him. Yelling, Hotch can tell by the way Dave’s chest expands. Yelling and motioning for Hotch to follow him. “Dave, please come back.” He feels a tear fall over his nose, stinging the opened flesh across it. “I’m sorry. Please, Dave, I’m sorry.”

But-- Hotch pulls his arms underneath his body, pushing with all his might but his arms tremble beneath him and give with the weight. His chest hits the ground and tears pool in his eyes. “Don’t…” he sobs into the hard cement below him. Head growing light as his eyes roll back into his head. The last thing on his lips is Dave’s name… he’s still waiting for him to return.

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since Hotch went missing from the alley-- not the supposed three days he thinks have passed.

Derek Morgan knows they’re just looking for a body at this point. Something-- anything-- to bring home. Every night he calls Jessica and talks with Jack. Every night he sends the other’s home and tells them they’ll look for Hotch in the morning-- they’re no good to anyone too exhausted to walk. Besides, he almost hopes they’ll find Hotch in the dead of night. That way the other’s won’t have to see.

He’s not even sure he can handle the sight. The thought alone sends a shiver down his spine. They’re all mortal. From the beginning, they all understood that their lives could ride the line for this job and yet… Hotch has always seemed above that. No matter how many times the world pushed him down the man always gets back up.

Through Boston with Gideon.

Karl Arnold.

George Foyet.

The Fisher King.

And Derek Morgan knows that the human body can only withstand so much but… but if anyone can handle two weeks of torture it has to be Hotch.

The thought makes him sick.

He’s prepared to identify his friend’s body but…

At what cost?

Hotch doesn’t shiver. His eyes half-lidded as he looks at the door… waiting. Just waiting for his father to return.

He’s spread out on his back. Too weak to curl his thin frame up and find shelter in his arms wrapping around him. He just lays there, numb to the wet ground seeping into his clothes. Numb to the pain. He’s just waiting. He passes time by talking to himself. Whispering into the darkness and imagining his team is here.

They are.

Derek’s sitting in front of him, cursing him and fighting with him to keep trying. Emily’s holding his hand while JJ encourages him to get up. Spencer is confused and pleads, downright begs for him to stand but… Hotch can’t. Penelope-- soft, Penelope-- tells him to take his time.

His hearing has returned but his ears ring. He misses the silence.

The door creaks open but it’s not his father standing in the doorway.

“No,” he sobs, turning his head away. “Not you,” he rasps, hopelessly. And Dave is standing in the doorway. He knows the other man’s build too well. Like science. He knows it’s Dave the way he knows his own name. “Please,” his broken voice cracks. But this he can’t take. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I will, I promise.”

Dave pulls in a shuttering breath at the sight before him. His heartbreaks. “Son,” his shoulder’s deflating with the agony of Aaron’s soft voice pleading. “Oh, my boy.” He steps into the room, clenching his fist when as he gets closer Hotch grows more frantic.

“Look,” Hotch flinches as Dave crouches down and touches his shoulder. “I’m not going to hurt you, son.”

Hotch looks up at him with tears streaming down his face, mixing with the dried blood caked to every bit of pale skin Dave can see in the low light. “You don’t have to hit me,” he whispers to Dave, clenching the older man’s shirt. “I promise,” his voice trembles with his fear. “I promise, Dave,” his voice turning to a plea. “I’ll be better, okay? I promise.”

Dave pulls him close, blinking back his own tears as Hotch sobs into his chest. “I know you will,” he whispers, rocking their bodies. “I know.” Dave looks up over his shoulder, nodding the officers hovering about to move on. He runs a hand down Hotch’s back before cupping the back of his head.

His dark hair is thick with blood.

It makes Dave’s stomach churn.

“We have to get out here,” Dave whispers, rubbing his back. “Can you get up for me?”

Hotch nods even if he doesn’t really know. “I’ll get up,” he replies shakily.

Dave wants to make a point that it’s okay if Hotch can’t but… he’s not sure Hotch is here enough to understand. He’s spent two weeks being brutally beaten and torn apart-- Dave can’t expect too much.

Together, they do manage to stand.

Hotch holds Dave tight. He’s torn between the physical need to be touched by another human in a way that isn’t painful and holding on to Dave so he can brace for any sudden shift in his mood. In case, Hotch swallows thickly around the sickening thought, Dave decides he’s not good enough. In case, Dave hits him too.

The sun is setting over the mountains and as Hotch steps foot outside a cold chill runs down his back.

“Here,” Dave wiggles out of his jacket and wraps it around Hotch. Smiling reassuredly when Hotch just looks back at him in confusion. “Come on,” Dave loops his arm back around Aaron’s shoulders. He leads Aaron, slow and steady, over the hill. Towards the sound of sirens and people.

“The UNSUB’s in custody.”

Derek had heard the dogs barking just up the mountains a ways ahead of him. He’d looked up but with no radio call, he knows better than to press onward. Shots ring out a moment later and Morgan takes off over the ridge, his own gun out.

He sees the UNSUB with his own eyes.

He’s a giant, wearing flannel and--

“I’ve got Aaron and coming your way Derek.”

Derek had given up. He’d lost his faith.

He laughs out loud, a good hearty laugh. Aaron Hotchner, that son of a bitch!

His run comes to a staggering halt. Hotch doesn’t look like himself. In fact, he looks small and weak with his arms pulled into Dave’s jacket. His eyes haunted-- even from afar-- as he takes in his surroundings. Assess them for danger.

“Derek,” Hotch whispers to himself. Was Derek in the explosion? Hotch can smell the fire. He shakes his head-- it all happened to so fast. He hadn’t known there was a bomb under the car. He didn’t know it was going to explode like that. “Is he okay,” Hotch slurs, his foot catching on a raised root.

Dave’s hand tightens but Hotch’s mind is elsewhere, he doesn’t even feel it.

“Derek was…” he keeps mumbling to himself, unaware that Dave doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand that Derek might have gotten hurt in the explosion with Kate. Someone has to check on him. Hotch needs Dave to check on him. He looks over at Dave. It causes him significant pain but it’s worth it as he manages to say, clearly enough to Dave to understand, “Morgan’s hurt. You have to… help.”

Morgan gets closer and Dave grunts as Hotch pushes himself from Dave’s arms and staggers to Morgan.

He’s quick and catches Hotch just as his knees begin to cave beneath him. “The bomb,” Hotch slurs, allowing Morgan to ease them both to the ground. “- ‘splosion.”

Morgan looks up to Dave, “what the hell is he talking about?”

Dave shakes his head, sad eyes turning down to Hotch. “I don’t know,” he says, truthfully. He looks back up, waving a hand and whistling as loud as he can. “We need a gurney over here!”

Hotch lays limply in Derek’s arms, just looking up at the younger man. He doesn’t see any blood and that releases some of his tension. “You okay,” he slurs, eyes dropping as fights against the light feeling in his head.

Morgan looks down at his boss. The strongest man he knows. He’s a mess. Covered in blood and dirt. He takes Hotch’s hand, the two might not always get along but Hotch has always been there when Morgan needed him. “I’m alright, man.” He taps Hotch’s cheek, rousing him. “Stay awake for me, okay?”

Hotch forces his eyes open.

He can do that. He can stay awake.

The EMTs swarm them and with them come the rest of the team.

Hotch smiles as he sees them, reaching out with a shaking hand to touch-- to really know they’re here and that this isn’t a figment of his tortured mind. When JJ’s thin fingers slide between his, a soft sob breaks from his lips and her own eyes fill with tears.

She crouches down next to him, brushing the tear that falls from his eyes with a soft stroke of her hand. “We’re here now,” she whispers to him. “You’re safe, Aaron.”

He knows it, too.

As a needle breaks through the skin of his right elbow he winces and Emily bites out a threat. It makes him smile and a moment later he feels her rest her hand on his shoulder. Her thumb brush against his chin. He can see rather than feel Reid but the intense gaze of the genius is something his mind could never conceive and as a mask is placed over his face he breathes in the cool relief of oxygen.

He knows he’s safe in their arms.

“Get some rest.”

A warm palm is pressed to his cheek and he leans into it.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #tw torture #tw voilence #tw puke

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