#Visually distinct but personality the same is what the twins are | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dream-dove · 1 year

Text

Edith of House Stark

Full name: Edith Stark

Nickname(s):

- Gentle Flower: Somthing her father Ned Stark would call her

- Jewel of the North: There are tales of the beauty of all three of the Stark girls going around the North and that is how Edith got the nickname, because of her beauty.

Current age:

Twenty years old

Hair color: Her hair color is dark brown

Eye color: She has dark brown eyes

Height: Five foot three

Visual: E-D-I-T-H

Distinct features: Well she does have this small heart shape birth mark on the side of her left thigh.

Personality: Edith is known to have the purest heart of gold in all of the seven kingdoms. She treats everyone with the same kindness and respect no matter who they are; even if they are the most sadistic bastard alive. It's hard to push her to anger and it is a rare sight to see yet when she gets angry, it's a very terrifying sight to see. She can even nearly kill a man if she wants although her blade has never tasted blood.

Style of clothing: Her style of clothing is much more simple than southern girls.The colors consist of many colors such as blue, black and etc. As well as a few light colors such as lavender and periwinkle. The dresses are a little plain but she does not mind. She also has a shirt and pants she wears when she goes hunting and has quite a few fur cloaks she wears on very cold days.

Lineage

House: Stark

Living family members:

- Sansa Stark: The two red haired sisters have always gotten along, Edith teaching her younger sister how to sing even though their relationship did strain when Sansa went to King's Landing. Edith was worried for her getting hurt although the girl only gave her an attitude telling her older sister that she was jealous since Sansa was marrying a soon-to-be King and Edith didn't have a hand in marriage yet.

- Arya Stark: Edith was the one that convinced her parents to get Arya to start learning how to wield a weapon. She spent many mornings doing a one-on-one lesson with her baby sister before their mother found out about her doing archery since Edith knew that she would not approve. She began to get worried when news reached her of her youngest sister missing although Edith held a brave face knowing that her younger sister would be coming home instead of staying in King's Landing, or at least that's what she hoped.

- Bran and Rickon Stark: Along with Arya, she had taught the boys how to wield a bow and arrow and was even there with Bran to witness his first execution. She just prays to the old gods that they would be reunited again.

Jon Snow: Jon may be Edith's bastard brother although she treats him as if he's her legitimate brother. With him only being a year younger than her, the two hit it off immediately even though it was against her mother's wishes. The three caused a lot of trouble when they were together. Edith and Jon would often be partners in sword fighting even if Jon was better at the sword. Edith knew that sometimes he would let her win when they were paired up together but she had fun with him nonetheless and was actually upset when he decided to take the black.

Deceased family members:

- Ned and Catelyn Stark: Edith was very close with both of her parents, them teaching her that family was the most important thing above all else. She only defied her mother once in a while when she didn't want her to do her sword or archery lessons with the Stark's master-at-arms, Ser Rodrick. Even if she defied her mother, she still loved her. When word hit to her, Edith was absolutely distraught although she had to try and keep a brave face. However when Edith heard from the mouths of unknown men after the Red Wedding about the massacre that happened, Edith completely let her guard down.

- Robb and Talisa Stark: Edith has never personally met Talisa but she knew that the other woman made Robb happy and that was all that had mattered. The Stark twins were very close growing up, not as close as Cersei and Jaime Lannister, but they were as close as siblings should be. Edith loved that he had so much faith in her that she would be able to fight like any other man. On their sixteenth name day, Robb had given her a necklace with a wooden direwolf pendant and she never takes it off. She even gave Robb on their next name day a wooden direwolf head, a replica of their family sigil. After she found out about her twin brother's death, she was in hiding since Winterfell was taken over yet she didn't see who the men were allied with and did not hear on who gave the final stab to Robb, she only heard about his corpse riding around on a horse with Greywind's head replacing his.

Pets: There were six direwolves when they discovered the deceased mother; two females and four males. Jon had insisted she take Ghost although she refused telling him that he deserved a direwolf as much as the rest of the Stark children. A few days later, she was wandering in the woods by herself hearing cries of pain from a nearby animal. She ran to the source and found a wolf pup with beautiful grey fur suffering from an injured leg. She took the pup back home with her and nursed her back to health. Edith decided to keep her and called her Silver because of her fur color. Silver is also a good protector for her. She also has a snowy white horse which she named Eira which is her horse for riding.

Religion: Old gods of the forest

Life growing up: Edith was told by her father many times that she was the sun brought to the North. She always was a happy little girl no matter the situation. She was very close with all of her siblings, including Jon Snow and Ayra. She was closest with her older twin brother, Robb, however and they would do just about everything together. From the moment Edith could walk and talk she would go with her mother to hand out rations to the common folk and help them as much as she possibly could. Even with the fall of Winterfell, she still tried to help those that were still alive to the best of her abilities.

Lessons growing up: Edith had the typical lessons on how to act like a lady including sewing however she begged to do sword fighting and archery lessons with the boys. Against her mother's wishes, she was able to learn with her two brothers and now she is one of the best marksmen in the North. She uses one of her brother's sword though to make sure that he was never truly gone from her.

Extra skills and talents learned: She doesn't have many extra skills and talents although she does have a beautiful singing voice but other than that, she has no other talents

Love interest: ???

#oc tag

3 notes · View notes

arcann · 2 years

Note

16 or 45 for Taigat! (Sorry if this is a double send)

I finally finished this lol. Thank you Josie ❤️ Decided to make it for both

16. dreams and 45. svelte

| cw for implied abuse and description of injuries, character introspection, 3.4 k

Dancing shined as one of the greatest arts, exalting any place, any person, any sound that accompanied it. Where words weren’t enough, movement was capable of transforming simple delight into a truly visual pleasure. The fleetingness of dance could make one value how unique each step of the performer was, saving it in one’s mind, the memory becoming a treasure on its own.

And the viera had truly mastered it.

Only viera who have left the forests, that is Mother used to say, a smile Taigat could only describe as beautiful adorning her face. At least they prefer to remember it like that even if their sisters had many more colorful ways to describe this comment behind her back. Scathing, patronizing, barbed, bitter.

Vindictive.

But no matter their opinion on Mother’s past, all of them had learned at her feet, taking her craft seriously until they had trained enough to create something truly special. Taigat never got the chance to see all their sisters dance together but just watching them one by one or in small groups of two or three, they knew the patterns and steps they took as symbols for each of them. The light sway of arms matched by powerful strokes of their legs that allowed them to attract the eyes of any onlooker was distinctive for each. They could choose to spin at an incredible speed that would let them reach the top of the stage or simply let themselves advance in a composed manner that left the audience expectant of what might happen next.

Vexot enjoyed waiting for the right time so she could do something that would truly amaze while her twin Covet gave everything she had from the moment she appeared in the scene. They were a strange pair that constantly tipped the balance between the pleasant and the bizarre but Mother was hopeful that once Taigat had grown and gained more experience their participation would finally leave them on the side she expected them to stay in. Their stomach still twisted at the thought of how much practice that would require.

224, 166, 82 and 82, 42.

Those were their sisters' ages when they were born. Most had gone through an entire life before they could even walk, reaching goals others could only dream of having the time to achieve. Would simple effort be enough to reach their skill? Why would they wait for someone who was almost a stranger to catch up to them?

They’re missing the firstborn in their list though, the only boy, another stranger. Mother never talked about him. He died when she and her husband still lived in the forests of the Skatay range, centuries ago now. He was the very same reason they left. This they learned accidentally when Zialat, the only sister interested in returning to the traditions of the Green Word, got into a shouting match with Mother, resentful of the choices that were made for her so long ago. The screaming and blaming invited a horrible situation no one cared to stop and that was also the last time they saw her.

They lost a sibling that day. Maybe two. They never asked about either of them, about what happened. They came to regret not doing it. Later, when they could fix none of it.

Fate would have it that they never learn to dance the way Mother wanted them to but they did learn the value of memories from her. Of how fleeting they were. Of how one could adopt the memories of others, like ghosts dancing to unknowable tunes in places one could never see. Of how one could feel their loss even if one never had them. And how they were made to be suffered as much as Mother suffered for her art.

—

The headache comes back, making Taigat moan in pain. They clutch their head and close their left eye, shutting away every source of light to search desperately for comfort. For now they deal with the throbbing sensation in the right side of their face, which has nothing to do with the sun. It was as if someone inside their skull grabbed a pair of pliers and pinched every inch of skin behind their right eye. What was left of it anyhow.

Despite the haze, they can still feel their father tense beside them and let out a shaky breath.

“Come, my heart. The wine-dark sea can still be seen from my quarters.” His amused tone is betrayed by the goosebumps in his arm as it circles their back and helps them move slowly to the right, towards the captain’s cabin.

And so their little ritual of watching the sundown in the deck of Dyulgor’s ship is interrupted once more by Taigat’s soreness, as it has been every single time they have tried to go back to normal. The pain remains, leaving the viera in bed most of the day, rising only to try and make little trips around the ship, in an attempt to make themself feel better.

None of them have ended well.

The pain should wane, it should not leave them exhausted by midday, it should stop coming back every evening. But that’s the opinion of the few worried crewmates who’ve only dealt with wounds made by common weaponry or the casual accident. There are optimists aboard but none of them are healers of any merit and they learn that the hard way, every time there is an injury they don’t know how to deal with, like the ones the captain is keen on leaving others with.

Together they reach Dyulgor’s room after carefully maneuvering through the disorder sailors leave in their wake. Taigat is guided to the bed that used to be Dyulgor’s but lately they have called their own. The best one in the entire ship their father reassured them and as they curl themself over it they’re certain he’s right. Anything to keep them comfortable and dissuade them from exploring the lower decks. Last time they had missed an entire ladder and despite being completely unharmed their father had carried them back to his quarters, examining their limbs and head in search of injuries that weren’t there for more than an hour.

Taigat’s father used to be all winning smiles for friends, victims and enemies alike but the master of this crew’s ventures kept a silent demeanor these days, becoming a shade of the svelte and decisive man he used to be. Worry had wrecked him and doubly so now that the band of mercenaries he had meticulously collected for their fierceness could clearly smell blood in the water. Few pirates thought of a weeping man with a sick child in his arms as a strong leader and his inner circle kept getting smaller as the days went by.

He had to thank himself for that. An apparently brilliant idea butchered by his own doubts, starting the timer on a conflict he couldn't stop.

But for now his child slowly uncovered their healthy eye and searched for his face, finding it a few inches away from their own, his cheek leaning in the border of the bed as close as his curled horns allow him to be.

Dyulgor’s lips trembled, his eyes shining more than usual. Once more his face was haunted by questions neither of them could answer but Taigat could almost hear.

What did I do? What did I do to you?

"Do you still think–" the pause that follows is filled with worry, the Xaela organizing and reorganizing his thoughts before finally whispering two words.

“– about leaving?”

“Years ago you said I should leave.” the viera utters warily, knowing not much good would come from that particular scene of their past. But it should be stated clearly. No more ambiguity between them, as they had agreed. Even so, their heart still twists when remembering how it felt being the target of their father’s more dismissive side.

“Now you don’t want me too?”

“No. No. No, I don’t.” Dyulgor swallows hard trying to keep his voice firm.

For a few seconds Taigat lets himself enjoy what Dyulgor’s words implied. The knowledge that they are wanted here, that they were free to stay. They could learn everything their father was willing to teach and lately he had been an open book, sharing anecdotes that went as far as him being a child in the Azim Steppe or the first days he took to the sea. Every accomplishment and mistake piling up until he became the man he was today. Familiarity, at long last. They can't hide the little smile that forms in their lips as they stare at their father’s face.

But their right eye socket stings once more, calling them away from their dream. They reach to caress the neckline of Dyulgor’s shawl, appreciating the soft wool under their fingers. They use more force than necessary to keep him close but the au ra doesn’t seem to notice.

"Your men think they're subtle but I can hear them, even from here. Especially that hyur with the ugly yellow tattoo over his eye and the sunkeeper miqo'te with the golden daggers. They're thinking of setting some kind of ambush for you once we reach Vylbrand but they want more people first. Last I heard nine crewmates had taken their offer but I'm not sure who they are. It’s been two days."

Dyulgor motions himself away but Taigat interrupts him, roughly pulling a handful of his white serape so he stays where he is. He grabs their hand to shake it off but the viera holds on with all the strength they have left while he keeps fighting.

“I’m not healing and that’s why this is happen–”

“Don’t say that! Not when I–”

“No.” Taigat’s tone is severe and it feels strange to hear it. But it needs to be said. “You’re going to leave me in the next port we reach. We’ll find a healer, one who understands cursed wounds and I’ll stay with them, for as long as I need to. You’ll deal with your mutiny as you seem fit. You’ll get your respect back. And I, my health.”

Finally Dyulgor gives up, slumping once more on the corner of the bed. He releases a long sigh and looks at them with reddened eyes, the first tears rolling down his puffy cheeks.

“You thought of this, haven’t you?” His voice breaks and he fights back the involuntary whines that come with crying. “I can’t blame you, not after what I tried to do, but–”

“It’s not safe here, not for me… or for you. And you can’t make it safe with me here.” Dyulgor might have yielded to his guilt, gripping their hand not to throw them away but to keep them close so Taigat was now in charge of keeping the conversation going.

“I’m not forbidding you from visiting. I want you to, after a time has passed. I have lived most of my life inland so I will be able to do much more there. It will be easier to train and adapt to my new condition. I want to try things I've never dared to do and if you are willing to wait I will show you how much I can progress.” They let their smile get larger and hope it doesn’t look forced.

“Maybe I can finally start sending letters to my sisters again. I haven’t done that in a while.” Years, they remind themself, the nerves rattling inside their stomach.

After a few minutes of silence, Dyulgor snorts at that.

“And you used to say your sisters didn’t care for you.” He murmurs as he pulls Taigat’s hand to his face so he can clean the stream of tears with their sleeve while glancing at their face and waiting for their reaction. The viera might have pulled away, faking disgust but that meant Dyulgor was feeling better, or trying to appear so. He hadn’t said no.

“I think… I think I was wrong. Very wrong. I spent too much time with mother when I shouldn’t have. They’re all very different from her and I can finally see it now that I’m away.”

Dyulgor snorts again, this time with more disgust than humor.

“Of course they’re different. They brought you to me, my heart.”

That gives Taigat pause. Had their sisters made the right choice? They certainly wouldn’t feel like they did, once they discovered what had happened to their youngest sibling. If they discovered it. Taigat would need to decide whether to tell them or not, sooner or later.

“And maybe that’s… another reason why I need to leave.” Dyulgor’s face is drained from all color, noticing his slip up far too late. But that’s not the conclusion Taigat wants to reach. Not today.

“I want to be free to choose and I choose Eorzea.”

The silence stretches as Dyulgor deals once more with the reveal he had fought to accept for so long. His room, once illuminated by the last rays of the sun, had slowly fallen into darkness and neither of them moved to light a candle or the fireplace. However, the dark couldn't hide their father’s frenzy, a scowl forming above his reddened eyes slowly relaxing itself and disappearing only to return when a new yet unknowable thought crossed his mind.

The viera sighs at that, trying to find the patience to stay candid.

“I used to blame fate for the problems I had and couldn’t understand when I was a kid. I didn’t understand why I had to follow mother’s traveling company, leaving behind every friend I ever made or why I had to practice dance for hours when I clearly had no talent or why my sisters could only bear being with us for more than a couple of days or why I had to talk about Zialat like she was dead...”

The memories are bitter as they replay themselves one by one in their mind.

“And then I did. I understood who the problem was. My sisters– Avat, figured out where that was going, much sooner than anyone else did. And I realized that I never wanted to feel like that about anyone again.”

They pause to focus on Dyulgor’s face again. The frowning is gone but without any movement they can’t figure out his expression in the dark just the eerie glow of the limbal ring in his right eye.

“I do not want to resent you for what happened, just like I do not want to resent my sisters for deciding how I should live when it didn’t work out. And to ensure that, I need to return to Eorzea, where I’m sure I left something incomplete. Someone stole something from me. My memories, my training and who knows what else. And I intend to take it all back.”

Dyulgor doesn’t say anything to that, his undisturbed silence making the situation more uncomfortable than it should be.

“Will you not say anything to me now?”

The answer, to their surprise, is immediate.

“If you go back to that place will you fight Garleans again?”

They want to say maybe, I sure hope not, I don’t even know if I did the first time around but those are phrases they would have said four years ago, when they felt their own inexperience overwhelming, the lack of confidence in themself permanently melded to their voice. That is not who they are now, nor will they be ever again.

What comes out is. "Yes. I will. And I’ll be ready for them."

They can hear their dad swallow hard and return to stillness, his grip on their hand becoming almost painful.

The way Taigat came back to him was an occurrence surrounded by mystery, appearing in the middle of the open sea and clawing their way up to the decks of his ship, barely remembering a thing of what had happened the months after they had left and what little they talked about was forgotten soon enough. This happened right after the second moon had crashed in Carteneau, unleashing all the disasters tied with a Calamity. Dyulgor was thankful his child could be at his side in that dark period but their behavior was erratic to say the least. Unnerving, some of the crew called them but he forced them into silence soon enough.

They can add it to the bunch of complaints for all I care, he used to say. If he had only known how much bad blood had slowly gathered since then.

But then again, the new recruits hadn't seen how bad Taigat could get, especially at night. When the two found themselves alone, the viera would describe to him in detail the nightmares that assaulted them, sweating and shaking violently, begging Dyulgor to keep them company until the sun rose again.

In those cursed dreams, they were fighting a losing battle with a monster donning a striking white armor and a fearsome halberd, with glowing red eyes and ears like wings of a bird (And actual wings? Sometimes it had enormous draconic wings.) It seemed unstoppable and soon enough it struck them down, a deep slash over their right eye marking the end of their doomed conflict. Taigat dropped to the ground, paralyzed with dread while the creature took to the skies at unnatural speed and dragged the moon down with one gigantic claw. The satellite would begin to crack like an unholy egg, melting into a rain of fire. The last thing they always saw was the crimson glow of Dalamud lowering itself over them until it swallowed the earth around them. Everything in sight was consumed by its light. The last sensation was the air being stolen away from them as if they were slammed into water until they woke up, the sheets of their bed tied around them, making it difficult to breathe.

Dyulgor could work with that, making assumptions here and there. According to him the abomination's armor, without its more arcane aspects, fit the one used by the leader of the Seventh Garlean Legion who Taigat might have, at some point, fought during their travels. He was most likely the man who mutilated them.

The first time around, a tiny voice in the back of Taigat's head had been whispering those last days, filled with a rancor they could only assuage for so long. It was another reason why they wanted to leave. They didn't want to wait and see if this chimera adopted their father’s features to torment them in a newfound form.

However, as time went by, Dyulgor gave up on these notions only wondering aloud certain thoughts he left incomplete, possibly too inconsistent with the narrative he had made up in his head.

Despite the grim scenario Taigat described and its more surreal details, they could have… Considering how broken they were when they returned maybe… That same legate had been assassinated by unknown assailants so it was possible that… And even if it had taken them years he could see a strength in them growing, something new and almost startling in the way they spoke and acted, so perhaps…

"Good. They think they’re winning. Show them how wrong they are.” He kisses their knuckles and begins to stand, groaning as his knees clearly resent being bent for so long.

"I'll do the same here. Mutinies are always the same tired dance and this one seems more tragic than the last.” He releases their hand to pull the covers of the bed over them and moves to kiss their forehead but stops just above them.

“I want to hear their screams all the way into the sea. I want to see them burn just like when we watch the sunset. You promised to show me progress. You'll prove it like that."

He plants the promised kiss, carefully avoiding the gauze covering his child’s right eye and pulls back reluctantly, walking towards the door with heavy steps.

“Sleep well, little heart. Thanks to you I can start handling this nuisance. You’ll be safe for the night.”

With that Taigat was left alone, reflecting on what just happened.

They were free to leave. Free to heal. Free to move on. They could start again. For once their excitement was so distracting they could barely feel any ache. It was enervating to have something to look forward to after years of stagnation.

It’s their own strength, coming back to them.

—

Many months later, when the Praetorium was ripped from its seams and shot into the sky, bright like a midnight sun, Dyulgor in his bloodstained shawl watched the show from his deck.

#oc: taigat #oc: dyulgor #rel: hurt suffer heal #written words

7 notes · View notes

wildfire-chronicle · 2 years

Text

deep sea princess dream

Had a very strange, psychedelic dream while on long-distance public transportation in the middle of the night. It was less of a coherent storyline, like it usually is, and was more of a shifting smear of different scenes that blended with the music I was listening to through my headphones. Specifically, I remember hearing Loving Free (SAINT PEPSI Remix) by Spazzkid and Memories 地平線に by Neon Dream 87’ filtering throughout the dream in an odd, distorted manner.

The first scene saw me standing in a foreign kingdom, blue-tinted sands rolling endlessly around me, coral trees sprouting from the dunes, and a shifting sky with a watery texture hanging high above. It all gave the sense of being underwater, despite the fact that I could breath and move with no problems. All I knew was that I was lost and trying to find my way home.

I decided to try talking to the inhabitants of this realm in hopes of finding out where I was. All of the people here had humanoid bodies and were dressed in sharp tuxedos or other classy outfits, but instead of a human head above their collar, they had various sea creatures stretching upwards. Every encounter with them took place like a visual novel: a flat character portrait where only their mouths and arms moved and only while they talked, and a background that seemed incongruous with the lighting and perspective of the character portrait. They also seemed incapable of true speech; they could only produce music.

In particular, I remember a quartet of seafolk that I asked for directions. The song that was playing at this point was Loving Free, and the quartet was producing each part of the song from their mouths. The seafolk in the back had extremely long, floaty limbs, black eyes like a natural pair of secret agent sunglasses, and a pair of shell-like castanets that produced the percussion. One of the side two had a head like a barnacle, and it produced the flute melody from the hole in its head. I don’t remember what the one on the other side looked like, but the one in front was the most distinctive. He was much shorter than the others, with a very smushed and square face like something between a dunkleostus and the goombas from the 1993 Super Mario Brothers movie. He wore a smug, self-satisfied look on his face, and each time he opened his mouth, the distorted “che~rry pi~e” voice clips from the song floated out of his mouth as he tugged on his bowtie. Somehow, all of this registered as “directions to the palace” in my mind.

After this… “conversation,” the dream shifted to the marble steps of the ruler of the sea’s palace. A pair of seafolk guards, still dressed in matching tuxedos, moved from their posts to block my way inside. In some wordless way, I communicated that I needed to ask for help, and from within the palace a feminine voice commanded them to let me pass. I crossed from the steps into the impossibly huge throne room, and found the monarch lounging on her seashell seat within.

The ruler of the sea was instantly striking. While every other person I’d met so far had moved with the static, visual-novel-esque look described earlier, she moved with fluid grace as she crossed one of her slender legs over the other and looked at me down her narrow nose. She seemed human at first glance, but in the same way a marble statue appears human. She was too perfect, too still, the very image of beauty and elegance and allure, and it seemed almost as though all the colour had been stripped from her. Her skin was white like porcellin, without any visible texture or even a single blemish save for the beauty mark below her left eye. All her clothes, her hair, her lips, and the irises and pupils of her narrow eyes were such a perfect pitch-black that there was no dividing line between them where they overlapped. She wore a simple sleeveless dress with a low collar and a high skirtline, thigh-high fishnets, and high heels, all the same perfect void-like black, and from her forehead sprouted a pair of twin black horns that curled around her head like a crown and jutted backwards, ending in sharp points.

From the look she wore as I approached alone, I could immediately tell what kind of person she was. She was a spoiled princess, one who expected as a matter of course that any whose eyes fell on her would immediately become enraptured and do all they could to aid her. She cared not for any of her subjects, regardless of how they hurt themselves in her service. From the moment we met, it was a given in her mind that I would fall under her spell and be subservient to her. To her, there was no other reaction a person could have.

Without even waiting for me to speak, the princess hopped off her throne, strode up to me, and demanded I pledge myself to her. Disgust curled up my throat like a thorn-coated vine, filling my mouth with burning bile. Through it, I choked out an indignant refusal, and the look of absolute shock on her face almost made up for the insult of thinking I was so driven by lust as to immediately offer myself up. I demanded to know how to leave this place, but the princess was too shaken to even respond, so I spun on my heel and left to find my own way. Everything about the meeting filled me with seething hate and, though I tried to smother it, a small flame of lust burning underneath.

After I left, the view of the dream lingered on the princess instead of following me. As soon as she recovered from her shock, she furiously demanded that her other tuxedo-clad servants find me and drag me back. No one had ever defied her like that before, and I could tell she hated me as much as I hated her. And I could tell that, like me, she felt the same creeping vine of lust take root along with the hatred. As her servants hurried out to find me, the princess retreated to her room and curled up on her seashell bed, her perfect features radiating rage and frustrated desire in equal measures.

The dream shifted back to watching me as I made my way through the seedier, darker parts of the town below the palace. I looked everywhere for somewhere to rest, or at least for something to distract me, but phantoms of the princess haunted me every step of the way. They danced to the distorted music that filled the dream and teased me, just out of reach, driving me mad.

Fed up, I stalked towards yet deeper and more desolate areas of the town. Finally, my feet stopped at the outskirts, deep enough that the watery sky had become a dark indigo nearing black. I found myself standing at the edge of what looked almost like a graveyard. A sandy hill sprawled before me, vanishing into the gloom in the distance. Scores of swords covered the hill, point-down in the sand. There was a mix of rapiers, cutlasses, and all manner of blades usually carried by seafarers. I wandered out into the middle of the graveyard, and all of a sudden, I realized someone was watching me.

They were seafolk, like the other inhabitants of this place, but their tuxedo was shoddy and old, full of rips and holes. From the collar rose the heads and bodies of four twisting moray eels, writhing over each other in an attempt to get a better look at me. The eelfolk moved with the same static, visual-novel-like animation as the other seafolk, and he spoke in a chorus of high, reedy voices that layered over each other in an unnerving cacophony.

He asked, sarcasm dripping from his voices, what I was doing so far from the beloved princess. I asked where a guy could find something to take his mind off things, and the eelfolk paused for a moment. Then, with a raucous, insane laugh, he said, “What, you looking for a skeeze?” He broke the visual novel illusion like a character shattering the fourth wall in a game and dove beneath the sand, and suddenly, I realized that the swords around me were a map of the city, with each sword representating a point of interest. The eelfolk’s warped voice echoed clearly around me, calling out “Nowhere! No! Try here! Here! Here! Or how about here!?” With every repeat of “here,” he flipped one of the swords out of the sand. The swords spun once, ignited with a harsh purple light, and fell back to their original spot.

By the time he was done, half the swords glowed a neon violet. The eelfolk broke out of the sand uncomfortably close to me, and he grabbed my shirt and leaned in with a breath that smelled like alcohol and cheap cigars. In a stage whisper, he said, “The biggest skeeze of all, though, is right… here.” With a tail I hadn’t realized he had, he grabbed a sword and jammed it directly into the top of the hill, right where I knew the princess’ castle must be.

With that, the dream ended, and I woke up disoriented and bewildered on the bus.

22 July 2021

#dream #long post #deep sea princess #this one still bothers me to think about #july 2021

2 notes · View notes

pissjesus · 1 month

Note

Hagfish Slime roots too ;P

Roots: clothing inspiration

* Barb is the most versatile in terms of what she wears and takes inspiration from a lot of different things because she likes to DIY her pieces and accessories. She’s visually inspired by Amy Love of the Nova Twins, but I also pull from Skin (lead singer of Skunk Anansie), with a little bit of Harajuku street fashion.

She is the lead singer and dresses the part, but she is not overly glamorous— if she’s wearing makeup, it’s a bold eyeshadow or a funky lipstick. Her style is more feminine than Midge and Barb’s, but not completely impractical. She has the most variety in her outfits, but often with the same sets of pieces styled differently. Her favorite accessories are earrings and weird purses.

* Midge tends to choose comfort over style and most of her outfits consist of a long skirt, a tee shirt, and her oversized jacket. If she is accessorizing or dressing up, her style is inspired by Janis Joplin and Patti Smith. Her preferred silhouette is loose and formless and she prefers having her legs covered.

* Kenny has no specific style inspo, she’s just dressed like that one boy in your class who wore a tee shirt with a monster truck and his hair spiked up for every single picture day. She prefers having her arms and legs free. This is her style:

* Generally my main inspo is 90s riot girl but that is extremely loose and their style is not necessarily meant to look 90’s.

* The 3 of their styles vary between feminine and masculine but all 3 of them don’t shave because body hair is not an inherently masculine trait, it’s just neutral because it comes with your endocrine system and I think we should see it more both in gnc characters and feminine characters.

* I just think it’s important that if your fictional band is meant to be part of an inherently political genre like riot girl, the characters should have distinct styles and personalities and also that it’s kinda fucking stupid to put your fictional riot girl band in schoolgirl inspired uniforms and miniskirts and heels lol

#asks #plastickatz #hagfish slime

1 note · View note

joeabdelsater1 · 9 months

Text

Blog Post 7: Signs In Movies

In this blog article, I will try to explain the practical application of semiotics by using a concrete example of cinematic pieces. I will first be uncovering what semiotics are and explaining their importance in the world of digital media.

In definition, semiotics is the study of signs, symbols, and their meanings in diverse communication systems. It is the study of how signals work to transfer information, establish meaning, and impact human thought. Semiotics originated in linguistics and has broadened its reach to include the auditory, visual, and tactile elements, which resulted in a reliable framework for evaluating a range of cultural and artistic works. According to Berger (2018), the basic unit of semiotics is the sign which is "this unity of word-object, known as a signifier with a corresponding, culturally prescribed content or meaning, known as signified" (Berger, 2018, pp. 3). To illustrate, our minds match the word "dog" or the image of a dog, which are the signifiers in this case, to the original idea of a dog, a domesticated canine, which would be the signified (Berger, 2018). This is the main concept proposed by Ferdinand De Saussure (1916) whose ideas laid the main foundations for the world of semiotics.

Departing from these traditional perspectives, how does semiotics come into play when talking about movies? And how can we make use of this study to better understand pieces of media?

In short, signs and semiotics play an important role in defining a person's experience and knowledge of the virtual environment they explore. A movie may be thought of as a semiotic system in which every aspect, from characters and environments to visual symbols and sounds, serves as a sign transmitting meaning. The study of signs in both movies and games allows us the general public, as well as analysts, to assimilate the complex language of narration and storytelling. In the same context, we are able to decode the narrative's layers, comprehend character dynamics, and traverse stories with a greater knowledge of the complex array of meanings that are being conveyed. The world of signs is especially important in films, as audio-visual signals help evoke certain meanings or concepts. A red rose in a scene, for example, may serve as a symbolic signifier expressing romance, love or tenderness. This demonstrates how signs usually exhibit the arbitrary and culturally agreed-upon meanings set by society itself. This means that the relationship between the signifier and signified is usually not inherently connected. Instead, the connection between the two is established by social convention and cultural agreement (De Saussure, 1959). The same can be applied when discussing choices of colour tones, camera angles, and musical themes contributing to a film's semiotic language.

Semiotics in the movie: Upside Down

Upside Down (2012) is a science fiction romance film by Juan Solanas. The story takes place in a universe with twin planets that have opposing gravities. One world is prosperous and privileged, whereas the other is disadvantaged and oppressed. The plot revolves around Adam, a man from the lower world, and Eden, a lady from the higher world, and their forbidden love story. Although it hasn't received the best reactions in terms of storytelling, the film succeeded in addressing many societal topics like issues of class inequity. Through the main duality of the world, the plot exposes major ideas of social and economic divides that can be seen in the world today. In this framework, semiotics can help us dissect the messages or signs hidden within the context of this movie.

The usage of signs in Upside Down can be analysed through Roland Barthes' theory of semiotics. Barthes (1964) pushed De Saussure's ideas further by suggesting a relationship expressed by two notions: denotation and connotation. In his writing of Elements of Semiology, the French philosopher and semiotician made a distinction between "denotation", the basic apparent image portrayed by a sign, and "connotation", the deeper and hidden cultural, social, or symbolic understanding associated with a sign (Barthes, 1986). We see this for example in the film where gravity is more than just a mere physical force. It is a metaphor for societal constraints, creating segregation within the inhabitants of the universe by keeping people in their world of origin. This struggle for equality in many ways reminds me of the harsh immigration policies mainly set by Western governments to prevent people in third-world countries from moving to the "West". It can also be compared to extreme border control laws and decisions like the ones implemented in the USA to stop foreigners from entering the states from the south. In the movie, the worlds are separated by the atmosphere and are only physically connected by a tall building, the "Trans-world" company headquarters where crossings are heavily controlled. This representation (denotation) in the fictional world is a reflection and a clear sign of major corporate greed in the real world (connotation). The corporation that controls the opposite lands is highly exploitative of the world down below and its human and natural resources. This theme speaks loud to the dangers of unchecked capitalism in our contemporary age and how it affects real-life concerns.

Another way the movie highlights the differences between both worlds is through the use of colours. Different colour schemes are utilised when switching between scenes of each of the two planets, which helps viewers understand the socio-economic disparities between the two worlds. Moreover, some mythical elements were used in the writing of the movie in order to reinforce the element of desire in the relationship of the main characters. To begin with, the plot has a heavy influence from the story of original sin derived from the Book of Genesis: the main character is called Adam similarly to the first human created by God, and his lover is called Eden. Just like in the Bible where Adam was banished from the Garden of Eden after experiencing its beauty, in the film Adam is also separated from his lover Eden after experiencing her love and charm. According to the biblical text, the original couple is forbidden from eating the fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil but decides to disobey God’s orders and suffer the consequences. In the movie, there is a reference to the forbidden fruit, love, which is forbidden for people from opposite planets as any contact is not allowed. The main characters give into their feelings regardless and get separated in return. This echoes the theme of temptation and consequences where the main characters decide to keep seeing each other despite the societal norms and rules that prohibit their union, and experience pain as a result. This choice of symbolism in the movie connects the story to the broader human experience which makes it more universal and believable.

All in all, the aspects that are discussed in this blog highlight the capacity of semiotics to create a bridge between the digital and physical realms, offering a reflection of life with emphasised elements of focus. Both film directors and writers make use of storytelling and compositing techniques to transform their moving art from simple stories to artefacts with powers of symbolism. These can act as tools impacting human perception, hence, comes the role of semiotics in analysing and decoding the signs, thus adding depth to the film.

Sources:

De Saussure F, 1959. Course in General Linguistics. Edited by Bally C, Sechehaye A, and Reidlinger A Translated by Baskin W. Philosophical Library. New York. [pdf] Available at: https://www.forgottenbooks.com/en/download/CourseinGeneralLinguistics_10009049.pdf. [Accessed 22 Dec. 2023]

Berger, A 2010, The Objects of Affection : Semiotics and Consumer Culture, Palgrave Macmillan, New York. [e-book] Available at: https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/herts/reader.action?docID=664316&ppg=13. [Accessed 22 Dec 2023]

Barthes R, 1986. Elements of Semiology. Translated by Lavers A and Smith C. Hill And Wang. New York. [pdf] Available at: https://monoskop.org/images/2/2c/Barthes_Roland_Elements_of_Semiology_1977.pdf. [Accessed 22 Dec 2023]

0 notes

sungtaro · 1 year

Note

Hii it's teubunn here, how you've been? I've been busy with uni and I will be for a while but! I wanted to ask. Since I'm still not that good at remembering the members and also so I could get to know them better- maybe u can tell me some things to know abt each member (or some of them if u want). Like one of those unhelpful guide to videos lol. maybe ur fave physical features and fave personality trait of theirs🥺 idk I think it'll be cute and also like it's so hard to get into a group that's not active so I'm hoping they cb soon. ur mv gif series is so cute btw!!! 🐇🐇💌

hiii bestie 💖 i hope that you're not working yourself too hard at uni ! this is so cute i'd love to give it a go hehe, i'll put in gifs i've made with them all too ... i ended up writing idek what for all of them LOL so i hope it helps 🥹 i also recommend this old but good 'who's who' video it's from ILY era so they look like babies but i think a lot of it is still true and funny; if you have more time and want something more recent this video is amazing for getting to put names to faces! anyways ... the eri version of unhelpful guide below the cut LOL

choi hyunsuk: 1/2 leaders and the oldest. his representative animal is hedgehog (after his jikjin era hedgehog haircut lol) and one thing about choi is he WILL cry. he's a super softie and is totally the group's mom lol my fave Choi Crying moment was when they surprised him for his birthday while filming tmap ! he's a short king and has the cutest nose

park jihoon: 2/2 leaders and my best friend (real). his representative animal is puppy (formerly panda but he rly wanted to be a puppy lol) and he's super playful and affectionate with the members, def the dad of mom and dad, and a total power extrovert. killer smile and super cute beauty mark under his eye on his cheek !

kanemoto yoshinori (yoshi): he is a human marshmallow ... very distinct rap voice (all the rappers have unique tones and voices imo) and he's got a recognizable birthmark on his chin ! looks like an anime protagonist come to life honestly. his animal is a tiger. he's soft spoken but when he warms up he's also rly playful especially with hyunsuk hehe

kim junkyu: MEME BOY literally so introverted that it's not even funny lol he hates leaving his room and he will wear the same hoodie and sweatpants every day of his life. his animal is a koala but he's strong on his catboy agenda like he is meowing left and right these days idk also for a while he was known as being the most like 'yg type' of the group whatever that means ! known for his broad shoulders and generally 'good' proportions, again whatever that means . also never dyes his hair

yoon jaehyuk: my angel on earth never not making a kissy face. his animal is a lion and you will pretty much always find him with asahi and/or jeongwoo. apparently he was street cast by like 7 different companies bc he's so handsome, so he chose yg and just like . learned to dance and sing a few months before they put him through ygtb hell ... genuinely just so sweet and soft he always has his arm around whoever is next to him i cry

hamada asahi: looks like a cat but his 'animal' is a robot haha. he's trsr's resident quirky guy and will just do the most random funny things, but he's also a soft spoken sweetheart who is mega talented as a musician/producer and also visual artist. he's come out of his shell a ton over the years we're so proud ... his best look imo is his platinum blonde hair during ILY era. he's got the smudged lipstick in the mv SO iconic

kim doyoung: little prince .. he rly looks like a little cherub to me. his animal is a rabbit (like you!). dobby is a little corny imo like he will just say the cheesiest pick up lines and wink at u but he's being so serious 😭 it's really cute haha. he's also just super sweet and attentive. some ppl say he and junkyu really look like twins but i've never seen it

watanabe haruto: the tallest member! and also the deepest voice lol. he was formerly an alpaca but he changed to a butterfly (nabi is butterfly in korean so i believe it's a play on his last name). tutu seems really cool but he's actually really soft and thoughtful.

park jeongwoo: my annoying little brother (real). also MAIN VOCAL ! his animal is a wolf. the other members hype him up for being handsome hehe bc i think for a while he was really insecure 🥲 he's got so much energy and is often seen messing around w his favorite hyungs, esp jaehyuk and asahi.

so junghwan: our super king cow baby <3 his animal is of course a cow (so means cow). he's also one of the tallest members haha and i don't think he really acts like a maknae, jeongwoo is much more like 'typical' maknae behavior, junghwan is a bit more reserved and pretty responsible imo so he doesn't really take advantage of being the baby. but it comes out and is really cute haha (he's been known to fall asleep while studying on camera 😭)

takata mashiho (former): pocket size main dancer beloved i miss u ... he was also the only one who could really cook so i hope everyone is eating okay now lol. very CUTE but also like one of the absolute most responsible members

bang yedam (former): pd bang u will always be famous ... just absolute main slayer vocalist and songwriter, cute curly hair and super handsome. one of the more down to earth energies of the group too

#🤠 thank u for the prompt i had fun hehe #erimail #mail from: anonymous friend!#teubun anon 🐇

0 notes

mouisorange · 2 years

Text

Self Awareness | Rook Hunt

If love is blind, then Rook must have never had eyes to begin with, for the hunter need not see their prey to know how much they desire the sweet, skittering animal beyond the tree-line.

Twisted Wonderland - Self Aware Masterlist

[ Warning/s ] yandere; stalking; manipulative behavior; Rook being Rook x10; delusional mindset; self-aware characters; non-proof read;

There wasn’t any kind of ‘Eureka!’ moment he could recall, no sudden spark of awareness waking him up from bundled coding. The only time he had ever reeled in surprise was the moment he heard of a mysterious student from another dimension, you. Well, you as in Yuu, your catalyst that moved the apparent story along.

He wouldn’t say life was stagnant before his junior year. If you could ask, he’d easily describe how interesting life had been, before Yuu. Watching Leona, the Twins, attempted watching of Malleus; he rarely struggled to stay busy with the multiple persons of interest that the college had gathered into a single campus. Seven forbid anyone ask him what hearing about Yuu was like (much less ‘meeting’ Yuu or his first conversation with him). He was so unlike anyone he’d ever seen before, not visually, but internally? Interesting would be an unreasonable understatement; with every word, every new action, Rook tripped further into himself. An endless void of obsession he welcomed, beckoned, with open arms and an open heart, a cute, Yuu shaped void.

But if Yuu was a black hole—you were a warm pond of freshwater connected to a cold river of steel, Rook a fish cooking himself alive trying to reach the speeding river’s end. Before his part, interacting with the Housewarden was achingly impossible. Though, unlike the few others who froze a few steps away weeks (some, months) trying to reach for a cookie in the jar, tearing their coding apart trying the same approach expecting a different outcome to the same equation, Rook swiftly found his own loophole, stalking around the still wall around Yuu.

Just as he accepted the small freshman’s backstory, he happily pocketed the idea of his existence being one of zeros and ones. What did it matter if he was of text and not flesh? It made no difference, and the thought process did not change his reality. Rook was not cold, undone numbers, at least, it did not feel that way. Nothing changed except for his sheer hunger for more.

Yuu was an interesting vessel, one that had quickly overtaken any desire outside of him, even the impossible Draconia, but you clogged every little crack in his skull. Every breath matching Yuu’s own (did your vessel share your lungs?), every thought reaching for your voice, every dream filled with what he imagined you could appear as–unfortunately, a shaky aura at best with his shifting subconscious.

Rook had no means of connecting with you more than waxing poetry to a blurred visage he could only assume was Yuu (he doubted Yuu actually looked anything like you, though he’d be lying should he deny that the thought had crossed his mind a few times, only until Leona’s part of your play at least), but Yuu’s lack of anything said otherwise. Nonetheless, Rook didn’t mind throwing his affection to his beloved, disembodied, outsider. He didn’t take offense to the silence given in return to his confessions, scripted lines just as honeyed as his scorching love. You feel the same, he’s sure, why would he see you so often otherwise (he could think of other reasons, but a man held in the grips of devotion was allowed to daydream–he’s sure you’d agree.)? Day to day, nearly without fail Yuu would suddenly lose any little amount of character; though he barely had much of a distinctive personality beyond your influence; and you took up the reins, gently nudging the events unfolding around the campus.

How loose did you steer the new housewarden? Was Yuu even anything more than a pair of eyes? Ramshackle’s occupant only gave questions, cluelessly wandering around any answer he desired; stepping over holes in the code with cloth covering his eyes. Though, in the warden’s defense, Rook couldn’t exactly change his voice lines when your eyes were on him. The little room he had for asking usually was taken up by either Yuu’s spacy attitude outside of your influence or by other students (especially when the burning acid of awareness begins splashing in unbiased droplets).

As much as he should find annoyance in it, Rook found none. Any and all minor grievances gently brushed out of his skull the moment he saw you, the light in Yuu’s otherwise neutral soul. He didn’t mind the box placed around him, a loosely defined line of code for his actions, his words, but not his mind, nor his heart. As much as he may like to break out of this loop of his pre-chosen world, there was no friction for him to latch onto. Rook could only admire you from a distance, through Yuu, his only saving grace settled in fantasy.

And admiring Yuu, he did thoroughly. Like a child leaving toys to rot in dust in favor of a new, soft, and sweet teddy bear, you overtook Rook like a deadly fever; one that he had actively sought to catch. His thoughts ran like wildfire, dreams and curiosity intertwining in such a way that he couldn’t recall if they had ever been separate to begin with. Every waking moment, every subconscious desire, festering under the noble surface of a put-together hunter: the sweet high of you filled him more than any meal could only crave to. The unanswered questions only added dried peppers to his high, wonders and ‘what-if’s tearing him open from the inside out. But if it meant he could gaze at you, not the young warden, not the coding, not the disembodied affection from a distorted Yuu, but if he could be allowed even a moment of basking in your beauty? He would help the illness tear him apart, smiling all the while his blood spilled for you.

So, then, who were you? Were you a shy lamb to be slotted in the wolf’s den? Perhaps they were the sheep and you the wolf coated in sickly sweet cotton? Neither would disappoint him, rather, Rook was more than elated to devour or to be devoured by his heart’s darling Helen. Surely you cared, there would be no other reason for you to return every day, to gently tug on coded leads, to spend time combing through stories, listening to unchanging voice lines, to watch unshifting actions. Plot-line after plot-line, he watched unblinking your heavy trudge through inky mud, rarely thanked beyond the Headmaster’s jovial praises (he’d never felt jealousy before you, before watching Crowley half-heartedly give attention he desperately needed to soak you in, to sing his devotion until he was sure you’d taken all he’s given: then, he’d pile his praises into a box for a dry day that’d never come so long as he was by your side.).

With little to no means to discover anything solely with his two hands, one of Rook’s key characteristics leave him with more means than many shot with lucidity: his patience. The only rush he felt did nothing but add dry wood to his obsession, leaving his desires to root further into his flesh, but even poor hunters know better than to shoot before aiming: and Rook prefers to understand his prey very intimately before pouncing.

He knows his way around the many unique personas piled into the college, and few (if any) can stray from his gaze. Sudden shifts in behavior interested him before Yuu, but under your light, he notices turmoil in his peers before some of these same peers realize it themselves. This turmoil seeps through the already shaky structures, crumbling onto the vessel that built most of them to begin with.

Rook knows how to choose his prey, this much is no surprise to anyone who knew him well, few as they seemed to be. Fewer were those who could read him beyond deciding that he was simply Rook Hunt, the strange, yet helpful, vice-warden of Pomefiore. He knew the stage and was content to play his role according to the code, outside of sweetening his tone when he knew you would hear it.

Yet it was backstage that kept his attention, where he noted when others began withdrawing, silently stepping back as compared to their distraught counterparts, who anxiously, painfully, chased the attention of someone they projected their own concepts onto, yet knew nothing about. Rook, possessive of his chosen prey, would rather not share your attention, much less with persons who lacked the cognizance to view you beyond the locked persona of Yuu. But his was the devoted lover, heartbroken at the thought of never knowing the feeling of being romanticized in return, and he knew better than to ignore necessary compromises in his relationship with you.

So he took to chipping away at any firewall he could find, pushing against cracks in the code so he could give you more of his cards, more of him, and hope you’d give him more of you in return. During the beginning, when Rook was your sole chasseur d'amour, you likely stared at your card collection wondering how you managed to get all of his so early on (and even during other characters’ summoning events–?). Love was a great conflict of heart, of mind, and of soul, but your castle, ta tour, found himself more than ready to rebuild his foundation, his internal working, to better suit Yuu’s luck.

He knew well enough that his reach just barely brushed against the line holding him to his place on the board, that pre-determined voice lines had made no promise to hold your eyes on him. Rook welcomed the heartbreak, just as he welcomed most new unfoldings, intrigue filled every choice you made and he drank it regardless of how it burned at times. He adored every moment you touched, every scene laid out before you, every moment he was allowed near Yuu, near you. For what better way to peak into your soul in the manner you’ve touched his? There was none, not while he was inside, and you were outside.

Rook needed another like-mind to comb through the many cracks in the wall between Twisted Wonderland and your land beyond. Few had the capabilities to force pressure against their little box, fewer that could be trusted to genuinely work together without underlying plans (despite fully planning to worm his way around any promises barring him from losing himself while dragging down with him.)

Ignihyde was the clearest answer–it’s warden rather obviously acting out of his previous role, drifting further than even himself. Idia’s distance from his peers fitted him into a nicely furnished target for Rook to exploit and reward; after all, he wasn’t one to take without giving in return. The decision was the easy part, and trust, the hard. But just as he, the devoted lover, analyzed your grasp on the plot; Idia, the desperate ‘Roi de Ta Chambre’, too, stared unblinking into unforgiving ones and zeros, trembled for a grain of the smallest give in the system. And desperate was the nail, just as Rook’s knowledge was the hammer; for what could Idia do in the face of something he did not know of you?

Nothing, he would do nothing against you; nothing, at least, that Rook didn’t want out of the hermit of a housewarden. Trust was hard-earned, but under pressure; like coal wishing to shine; trust was brittle-and easily handled. It cracked like a crabe désespéré hunting for its favorite shell after a harsh surge of clarity.

Rook couldn’t blame le crabe, though, for he tumbled through the same waters, trying to roll with the current, craving sunlight despite unknowing what might be beyond a life confined to salty coral.

Should either of them continue with broken design? Questions flowed back and forth, yet the answer remained locked into place, stronger than encoded squares scattered upon a patterned wall. The answer settled, unspoken, the moment you brushed their minds.

So, votre chasseur passionné would happily trail behind Yuu, pulling anyone he needed along, sickeningly sweet words festering in his throat, awaiting moments when he could pour them into your loving hands.

Would you love him as deeply as he loved you? Would you have fallen into him just the same, had you been in Yuu’s place? Would you still, when the time came when you met him–face to face?

Perhaps not; immediately, that is. But I wouldn’t worry, for any hunter worth their score knew patience as deeply as their aim. Time was on his side, his current outflowed any struggle your stream could manage against his affections. You really should let him glide you along the reef, for an affectionate hunter is better than a starved predator, don’t you think?

Like a dog memorizing the time of dinner, Rook memorized your schedule as best he could; as much as anyone looking through the false face of a two-sided mirror could; and like a dog, he stalked around the entry-ways of your house, Yuu, looking for flickers of shadows through the windows in hopes that someone will walk through the door at any given moment.

Oh, he’d seen you fall into Yuu, many, many times; Rook adored seeing it every time. He loved seeing you breathe new life into Yuu so much, so much that he’d somehow managed to forget about snapping a picture until it was too late, every time. He’d gotten close the last few times, yet always a moment too early, too late.

It wasn’t frustrating though, he’d never feel such a way towards sa lumière d'amour. Rather the opposite; each failure only served to deepen his determination to immortalize the sight.

Rook wasn’t worried about distractions this time around, little Yuu sitting alone for once in their day. He could approach, and get a closer view of the event he knew would likely be happening in a few minutes (your visits were always only moments apart on days like these), but surely that’d encourage others to follow suit. To view you coming quietly, was worth the hours spent staring, constantly analyzing the atmosphere, was worth it if the reward was to see how you filled Yuu’s eyes with life naturally. Without the walls put in place to avoid the eyes of those not meant to see, to truly come as you please. Such were his thoughts, at least. Maybe it didn’t really affect you as much.

No matter the case, he sat a few meters in front of Yuu, waiting for his next meal. For the soft buzz that filled his head and poured adoration into his skull through any open hole, for the moments he would unusually struggle to focus. Those were the moments he meant to capture, the ones where his eyes alone were not enough to take you in and glaze at every crack in Yuu he could find in that moment, as Yuu was able to. Yet, as Yuu seemed to begin to nod off at their desk of books, and the air thickened; as his heartbeat deafened anything outside of watching, hoping he’d see you once more. The warm ringing in his ears seemed to only quicken with the need to look away, look away from something he wasn’t supposed to see, wasn’t designed to see. Yet, his heart kept him in place, drumming against the thick hum, holding his limbs still with a heavy hug. Yet, still, he wanted to see, he would see. He’d dig his claws into the ground and wait until his vision blurred–and when he could focus, Yuu was gone, dragged off by you to… . . .

..Ah. He forgot again.

#.SATWAU #yandere self aware rook hunt #Yandere Self Aware Twisted Wonderland #yandere self aware twst #yandere rook hunt #yandere aware twst #yandere aware rook hunt #yandere aware pomefiore

252 notes · View notes

spookyspecterino · 2 years

Text

The Slaughter of a Lamb

Chapter Three: Eyes in the Dark

Tangerine x !F Reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Series Masterlist

SFW; slow-burn, minor amounts of blood & injury, POV switch, language

The twins get a shaky lead from Momo's informant that takes them to the most dangerous part of the city. They aren't prepared in the slightest.

A/N: Out of the entire story outline, this is my favorite chapter. Imo, this is when the story starts to get ✨ good ✨

“If I had to give Mother Vati a train, from what I’ve seen of her so far, I’d loosely pin her as a James.”

“Hm.”

“Incredibly determined but albeit a little impatient. If James had a temper it’d be a right fit.”

“Mhm.”

“Tangerine…are you listening to me?”

His response was as equally distracted as the last two. “Yeah, of course. Thomas and Friends.”

There was a tired sigh from Lemon in the driver’s seat of their car as he turned down a back road. They were out of the heart of the city now; the buildings weren’t as tall and the sky was clear. The foul weather from a few hours ago at the internet café had passed—red and orange colored the few meager clouds left behind as the sun began to set. Long shadows covered the road.

Tangerine had his head down, looking at the cellphone that Mother Vati had given them after their call. On it was Mother Vati’s personal number, another number for an assistant in case they couldn’t reach her, plus the photo and video of Fox that was shown at the meeting. He was currently rewatching the video of her at Lamb’s birthday party; this was maybe the 30th time replaying it since they had gotten in the car.

“What are you even looking for, mate?” Lemon asked as he glanced over at the video. He’d seen it plenty, it gave him the heebie-jeebies.

“Just the way she moves, it’s… distinct; something about it—it’s like you have to pay attention to see it, otherwise you might miss her.”

“Creeps me the fuck out. I’m hoping we don’t have to get that close; I’d like a nice clean shot from 20ft away. That’d be a job well done, everyone can go home happy—well except Fox.”

“Right.” Tangerine looks up and out the window, something he couldn’t pin bothered him about that. Maybe it was the finality of it, he wanted to understand the full story. “Should we give Momo a call now? See if her informant’s given her anything new since the contract released?”

“Yeah, give her a ring.”

Tangerine used his own phone this time, slipping the one Mother Vati gave them into his vest pocket. He’d sleep better if there was no trace of Momo’s number in it.

Momo picked up on the third ring, the sound of shuffling papers proceeded her greeting. She sounded like she had her hands full.

“Hiya boys, a little bird told me you entered into the contract.”

The twins glanced at each other; her informant must be right in the thick of things.

“Has your little birdy perhaps told you about our target?”

“Ohh yes, we’ve been chatting all evening about her. And, I have something for you, hot off the press.” She paused, obviously loving the dramatics.

Tangerine sighed. “What Momo, what is it?”

“Well first, I hate to do this to you honey, but we should talk business.”

Payment.

“Alright, don’t get twisted up, Momo. We’ll give you your fair cut, we always do.”

“I know, doll. Just reminding you—this info isn’t cheap. And my informant’s really sticking her neck out for me on this.”

“What’s the big scoop then?”

“Fox has been seen around the re-development district.”

Lemon slowed the car and made an immediate turn, mumbling about how that seemed strange to him. Tangerine agreed.

“Are you sure, Momo? Did your source get a visual?”

“It’s spotty 3rd hand information. The exact words I got were, a woman—around the same age, who looks like her, has been seen in the food shop on the corner, right outside the fence, not 20 minutes ago.”

Lemon muttered again, a little louder. “That doesn’t fit right.”

“What, honey?”

He leaned over toward the phone a little, keeping his eyes on the road. “I said that doesn’t fit right. Why would a Diesel allow themselves to be seen?”

It was only the fact that Lemon was making a good point that kept Tangerine from rolling his eyes at yet another Thomas and Friends reference.

“I don’t have the answer to that, Lemon. My guess is she’s been there from the start and needed food. It does make sense that she would be in the northern re-development district, everybody does their best to avoid it.”

Momo was right. The only ones who actively went there were people looking for a place to crash for a little while and do drugs, or rival city gangs that needed to settle an issue; one that could only be solved with bullets. Even the homeless wouldn’t settle there; too dangerous. Law enforcement doesn’t go near it either, making it the proverbial wild-west of the city. In fact, the city itself was perfectly fine not ever acknowledging its existence.

Tangerine fiddled with the knuckle duster in his pocket. “Well, thanks Momo. We don’t have any other leads, so I guess it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. We owe you one.”

“Mhm, I’m expecting a nice tidy sum when this is all over, boys. The amount I’m racking up with my informant—bloody insane. Be careful.”

“Take care.” Tangerine closed the call with a beep and dumped the phone into the center console.

Releasing a long, slow breath he looked out the window again. They were about 15 minutes away from the district and already the road was beginning to get patchy. Various graffiti tags, signaling specific gang territories, dotted the sides of brick buildings. The ones on the structures they passed were teal and gold.

“You’ve gone quiet.” Lemon’s gentle concern broke the silence. “What’re you thinking about?”

Tangerine’s moustache twitched as he chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’m starting to wonder if our target is either some kind of maniacal villain…or just not very bright.”

“What do you mean?”

“Who does such an awful thing to the most powerful woman in the city, who’s also her boss, and then make it obvious that she did it? On top of that, she’s letting herself be seen on the day her own contract releases.” He paused, brows furrowing into a line. “You called her a Diesel, obviously because she did a terrible, awful thing. But…what if she’s just…”

“I think you’re beginning to underestimate her, and that’s dangerous.” He turns down a broad alleyway. “You don’t climb your way through the ranks of The Vati Family by being an idiot.”

Tangerine barks out a humorless laugh. “Ah, but you see, you don’t have to be smart either. How many times have we seen some brute become the right-hand man to a boss just ‘cause he kills without hesitation and shows loyalty?”

Lemon throws him a withering glance. “You’re going with the theory that she’s just some seasoned mob killer who got in over her head? Made a big mistake?”

Sitting up in his seat, Tangerine tries to explain. “Ok, imagine; she’s a lieutenant, there isn’t much room for mobility there—no promotions; and she’s become addicted to that feeling of ascending through the ranks. An offer comes to do a job, in return she gets entry into some other criminal organization for a shit ton more money. She takes it, because she wants to climb the ladder again—but fucks it all up.”

“Who would be insane enough to kidnap Mother Vati’s child? Or order that kind of thing?”

“The woman’s’ probably got a lot of enemies being a powerful mob boss and all. Maybe Fox hated her, too.”

There was a hum from Lemon. “You’ve got a point, but it still doesn’t sit right for me.”

Tangerine huffed. “Ok, what’s your theory then? And do try to leave out the train references for now.”

He took a moment before answering. “No doubt, she’s a Die—"

“—Lemon.”

“Fine, fine… I think she knows exactly what she’s doing—she’s just trying to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes.”

“Is that right?”

“She’s part of something larger going on, I can feel it. I just don’t have all the pieces yet.”

As Lemon pulled up to an empty sidewalk on the street, a small food shop sitting on the corner of a block came into view. Bars covered the windows and the door was reinforced similarly. The small shop was battered, giving the impression that it had stood there for a long time; outlasting the vacant ‘FOR SALE’ building next to it. The street across from the shop had a chain link fence running alongside it, past other buildings it encompassed. A big sign read ‘Under Construction. DO NOT ENTER’.

The silence surrounding the brothers suddenly grew intense. Suffocating.

Lemon cleared his throat, trying to break the oppressive weight of silence. “You think she’s in there?”

Tangerine didn’t answer at first. From their position just behind the corner of a building, he had to sit forward a little to see the full shop. “She might’ve already left—”

As he was speaking, a few members of a city gang—this one sporting orange colors, can ambling in from around the corner of the food shop. They were openly carrying guns, mostly automatic rifles, as they laughed and talked loudly. It was a show of strength.

Lemon whistled low. “They must be getting pretty antsy with all the money up in the air.”

Tangerine grunted in agreement. “Probably noticing quite a few new faces poking around, as well.” He huffed, trying to calm his uneasiness. “Well, if they’re prowling ‘round maybe that means she’s still inside, waiting them out.”

The gang members, around eight in total, walked past the barged open chain fence gate and into the mix of old, rundown buildings. They seemed at complete ease, confident even, as they all carefreely sported themselves through the area that supposedly contained an incredibly dangerous killer.

Lemon turned the car off, cracking the windows a little. The cool evening air, mixed with the humidity of the rain from the past two days, was pulling heat from the pavement up and turning it into a misty steam. It drifted up into the air and dissipated just above knee height. It gave the streets an eerie feeling.

It was about 10 minutes later when they spotted quick movement from the shop. A woman, wrapped up in a red jacket, with the hood pulled over her face, scurried out of the food shop carrying something in a plastic bag.

“That her?” Lemon asked, sitting forward in his seat to get a better view.

She was hurriedly making her way toward the broken gate, one hand keeping the hood pulled down.

Tangerine squinted. “Can’t see her face…but, something’s not right.”

“Like what?” Lemon eyed her closely. “Should we follow? We need to make a decision, quick, or she’s going to get away.”

“Let’s tail her. Worst case, it’s not Fox and we can close this lead.” Tangerine grumbled, opening the passenger door with a huff.

The twins followed the woman from a block away as she turned the corner past the fence. They jogged to keep up. Something nagged at Tangerine in the back of his mind.

Most of the buildings in the re-development district were old abandoned apartment units with about four to five floors. The city wanted to tear them down and rebuild, but plans were never really finalized when the old mayor was voted out and the new one took charge. And it seemed that since then, every politician was just fine with shoving the issue under the rug; after all, they didn’t live anywhere near there. Out of sight out of mind.

As the twins followed the woman, the distant sound of automatic gunfire was heard. Lemon gave his brother a questioning look. Tangerine only mouthed back ‘gangs’. There were many people shooting at once, the sound of gunfire overlapped itself, all from automatic weapons. The noise gave an ominous ambiance to the area.

Rounding a corner, they saw the woman entering a shabby looking apartment building that was missing all its windows. Leaves and ivy trailed up across cracked bricks; the metal fire escape around the outside was dented and warped, missing in some places. Both pulled their handguns out and moved toward the entrance, which was just an empty doorway. The doors to the building were laying haphazardly on the ground to the side, covered in debris and plant life.

Tangerine turned his head to look at Lemon as he stood against the outside wall next to the entrance, Lemon gave him a nod at the sound of a door closing from inside. With a quick glance in, they saw a door beyond the lobby at the back of a long hallway bouncing shut. Tall shadows cast the worn-down discarded furniture in darkness. Floor tiles, once white and pristine, were cracked and warped brown.

Together they moved inside, holding their guns in front of them at the ready. The door that had just shut was marked with a stairs sign. They moved through it in perfect unison, taking careful steps to avoid disturbing loud debris and shutting the door behind themselves without a noise.

Tangerine cautiously peeked up the space in the middle of the ascending stairs. The woman had reached the top floor and her red jacket disappeared as she exited the stairwell.

When the door had closed behind her, Lemon took his brother’s arm and leaned in close to whisper. “What’s the plan?”

Tangerine kept his voice to barely above a breath. “She’s on the top floor. We’ll take it slow; we clear each apartment one by one—and be careful, I don’t like the feeling of this.”

His brother gave him a firm nod and they began climbing to the top floor. Lemon was in front while Tangerine watched their backs. Something still nagged at him in the back of his mind.

Without any windows the apartment was quite drafty. A cool wind blew through the stairwell almost constantly, sending a high-pitched whistling echoing down the concrete steps. It was enough to make the hair on Tangerine’s neck stand straight up and send his already alert senses into overdrive. He attempted to compensate for this by taking his tie off, shoving it into his pocket, and undoing the first few buttons on his shirt. At least now he could breathe a little easier.

Finally reaching the top floor, Lemon looked through the small rectangle window on the door. Part of the glass had shattered and was missing. Satisfied that the hallway before them was empty, he slowly pushed it open, pointing his gun ahead.

The long hallway had 10 apartments, five on each side, and none of their doors were shut; all were either open in some fashion or just missing altogether. On the top floor, high up and with nothing stopping the wind, the whistling was louder. Loud enough to muffle the sounds of their footsteps. Trash and debris littered the floor; crumpled papers lay along the wall, knickknacks and household objects left behind lay discarded. The darkening sky was beginning to shine through chunks of the thin roof that had broken off into pieces. Some of the walls had holes in them.

Tangerine tapped Lemon’s shoulder and pointed to the left apartment, signaling they should start there. They moved together toward the entrance. Tangerine stood guard at the door, the apartments were tiny, only a living room connected to a kitchen, bathroom, and one small bedroom. It only took Lemon a few tense minutes to return, and they moved to the apartment across the hall. They repeated this process of clearing the apartments each time.

It was on the third apartment—when Tangerine was standing guard, gun lowered to the ground as he anxiously waited for Lemon, that something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. It may have been a trick of the shadows, or his nerves messing with him, but when he looked further down the hallway he swore he saw something glide just out of sight.

Casting a glance back in the apartment, he tried to get Lemon’s attention, but failed. He didn’t want to go after his brother, incase whoever was down there tried to escape past him. So, he steadied himself and raised his gun, moving down the hallway toward the last apartment. Alarm bells rang in his head, every hair on his body stood on end as his instincts told him to run.

There was no door to this apartment, the wind whistled loudly through it unhindered. Tangerine’s heart was doing double time as he very slowly crept inside. This apartment was the same as all the others they checked, there was no evidence that anyone was here—but there was an inherently wrong feeling to it. Turning the corner, he faced the shorter apartment hallway. The door to the bedroom at the end was open, a window let the last rays of sun in.

And to the side of the room, just peeking out beyond the doorway, was what looked like a small child covered in blankets, laying down, back turned toward him. They were surrounded by trash and debris that was ruffled slightly by the wind. A fuzzy patch of blonde hair poked over the top of the blankets. He squinted trying to see properly. In his sudden confusion and alarm, he moved directly for the room, trying to get a better look.

The child wasn’t moving or breathing.

A million thoughts raced through his head at once, clouding his mind. Did Fox try to take another child? Was that her in the red jacket—it might be, but why didn’t he think so?

As he passed through the room’s doorway, feet shuffling on the rubbish, he was very close to reaching out and shaking the child’s shoulder. But he stopped.

He could see now that it was a very large doll, shaped extraordinarily similar to a real child, wrapped in blankets. A dead eye and painted rosy cheek stared at the wall away from him.

And then something simultaneously clicked in his mind.

He didn’t think the woman in red was Fox because her movement didn’t match. He’d watched that video over and over again, memorizing it.

The way she glides.

They’d been lured here.

Tangerine was mid turn when a hard kick sent him reeling back and stumbling over the doll. The sound of rustling trash and then fast tugging rope sliced through the whistling of the wind, a split second later his head hit the floor with a crack and his world was up-ended.

The hit wasn’t hard enough to render him unconscious, but he did feel warmth blossom against his temple and slide slowly down to mix into his hair. He groaned, momentarily dazed until his arms, hanging limply by his head, were swiftly pulled back and something zipped them together and pinned them to his belt loop behind his back.

Blinking furiously, his senses snapped awake with a rush of adrenaline when he couldn’t separate his hands or move his arms. He was upside down; something tied his feet together and hung him suspended from the ceiling. The source of the hard kick was out of sight where he was facing the window.

Before he could form another sluggish thought he was roughly spun around toward the doorway.

And he came face to face with Fox.

She was crouched down, level with him. Darkness shrouded part of her face, but her eyes seemed to glint in the dark as she observed him with a dark curiosity. His upside-down view made it difficult to take in all the features of her face, but he recognized those eyes. His breath came out ragged as she remained silent and tilted her head to the side.

There was a shout from Lemon in the hallway.

Tangerine filled his lungs with breath, about to scream to his brother, when a hand clamped over his mouth and nose. He thrashed trying to shake it off, but it remained.

There was a quiet shuffling as Fox fluidly moved around to crouch behind him. He felt the cool touch of metal on the other side of his cheek, it was a rounded surface—long and cylinder shaped. A silenced gun. The barrel pointed toward the doorway. He could see the end of it in the corner of his eye.

There was another shout from Lemon, this time sounding really worried.

Her breath was hot against the back of his ear; the touch of soft lips ghosted across his skin as she breathed, “Make a sound, and I’ll shoot before he has a chance to come in.”

Tangerine gave her a small nod and she very, very slowly raised her hand from his mouth. The gun was kept against his cheek, pointing out the doorway and down the hall. Her breath continued to hit his skin in relaxed and even measures. It spread goose bumps and sent shivers up and down his spine.

Deft fingers moved into his vest pocket and pulled out the contents. The sound of his tie sliding out and the knuckle dusters clink as they bounced off the ground, was overshadowed by the soft hum of satisfaction she made as her hand closed around his phone. Or rather, Mother Vati’s phone.

Lemon’s call was getting closer as he moved from apartment to apartment. Tangerine resisted the urge to call out, the cool feeling of the steel against his skin a reminder of Fox’s threat. A pit of anxiety collected in his stomach as he wondered what she would do when Lemon eventually found them.

A bright light lit up in the corner of tangerine’s eye as Fox attempted to get into the phone. There were a few disappointed clicks of her tongue when she found it was passcode protected. He heard her shuffle behind him, and felt the light brush of her cheek against his. Her hand comes into view, holding the phone up, its screen is black but has static on it.

She sounds like she’s smiling as she whispers to him, “A little something to remember me by.”

An intense, bright flash lights up the room, making Tangerine squint his eyes and flinch away. The after-flash blinds him as he opens his eyes and blinks furiously to clear them. The phone is slipped back into his vest pocket.

Warm, gentle fingers brush at the skin of his neck, along the chain of his necklace.

Her velvety voice is enough to make him dizzy. “And something to remember you by.”

He struggles, grunts a no, and does his best to stop her—but she’s already delicately slipped it over his head. She gives him a pleased hum. “Tell Victoria I said hello.”

There’s a clatter at the front of the apartment, Lemon was on his way in.

The metal of the gun disappeared, leaving a cool sensation on his skin, and a second later Tangerine was roughly shoved. As he spins by the rope suspending him, he catches a glimpse of her moving smoothly out through the window, the starry night sky outlines her as she turns to look back inside.

Maybe it was a trick of the shadows, but he thought she winked at him.

. . .

The sound of a plastic spoon scraping the side of a half empty noodle cup filled the small abandoned apartment room. This one was less run down than the others, kept clean by a daily sweeping; the debris and trash thrown out. A thin cot laying on the ground was pushed into a corner, a threadbare blanket folded neatly on top. Next to the cot was a dim, battery powered, plastic lantern. Something tacky you could find from a gift shop. It had done a fine job of lighting the little space the past few nights; not too bright, but enough to see with.

At the moment, a woman wearing a red jacket was sitting on the edge of the cot, finishing her cup of noodles contently. As she slurped down her dinner she would observe the details of the room with open curiosity.

The owner of the cot, and the entire room for the matter, was perched on the nearby window; back leaned up against the sill, one leg hanging down inside casually. She was staring out into the dark night with a faraway look. Wrapped around her hand and wrist was a gold necklace with a circular pendant. Occasionally, she would fiddle with it, twirling it between her fingers as she sat deep in thought.

Now empty, the noodle cup was set down and the woman in red yawned, stretching her arms over her head. She addressed her companion with an easy, relaxed tone. “So, should I try again tomorrow?”

Long silence creates a gap in conversation, but it isn’t filled with anxiety, it’s comfortable, contemplative. Finally, the woman in the window replies as she pulls something from her pocket. “No, go home.” She tosses a small roll of cash, the woman on the cot catches it with interest, but continues listening. “Try to stay inside for the next few days—and avoid this area…this is gonna get a lot worse before it can get better.”

She returns to watching the events outside. Below her, people wearing teal-colored clothes drag orange clad bodies into a gruesome pile. The area has a few dark stains on the pavement, bullet holes decorate the surrounding buildings. A few stand around a bonfire made up of old furniture; they’re celebrating a victory.

The gold pendant twirls between her fingers again.

🍊 Taglist: @whatiswrongwithpeople @marquisdefrenchfry @everythingisspokenfortbh @titaniusanglesmith @sjprongs @piechans @cherrygayness @queenofstarsanddarkness @idkwhattowritelol @simp-for-fictional-people @chanooopy @meirenzie @dogsandrocketsocks @willowpains @deedeebobee @friedbananakillazzz @adrienette715 @elizabeth-skywalker @aces-tattooartist

If you'd like to be added, let me know!

#bullet train #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine imagine #bullet train 2022 #lemon and tangerine #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train movie

82 notes · View notes

oddberryshortcake · 3 years

Text

The Characterization of the Tallest- Depth in-between the lines

The Characterization of the Tallest: Depth in-between the lines

In recent years, the Tallest have become pretty ignored when it comes to analysis of their characters. Their lack of attention in ETF definitely didn’t help their case when proving themselves to be two individual characters, but if you look back at the IZ series, there is something there that not many seem to see, so I want to talk about it!

Their personalities aren’t outwardly stated in objective ways as Dib and Zim are. While Dib and Zim announce to the audience what they’re all about, the Tallest seem to require closer inspection.

On the surface, they tend to be roped together being as they are nearly identical and share a few common traits (leaders of Irk, hatred of Zim.) But much like Identical twins, those who look alike don’t have the same personality or opinions.

I’m not going to be talking about my personal headcanons here, I’m going to list some objective scenes about the Tallest and what these signify when it comes to distinguishing them as characters.

Firstly, I’d like to bring up something Jhonen asked in The Nightmare Begins that I think is important (It doesn’t get answered because they got busy talking about something else, but I’d probably ask that question again)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHV63pkPJm0

Jhonen said- “So Wally, how did you develop the character of Tallest Red?”

Next to how the writers tackle a character, the voice actor’s performance is just as vital to the characterization.

Both Wally and Kevin gave two completely different performances that give us a gleam into what their characters are-

Red is a performer. He talks loudly, powerfully, and gives announcements as if he were on some sort of stage (which, given that he’s speaking to all of Irk, he is.)

Purple sounds, for the lack of a better word, childish. He’s full of rebuttals! “That’s a stupid name!” “I don’t like it!” He sounds a lot nicer due to the softer side of his performance as opposed to Red’s louder and more forceful performance but the words he says are cruel.

Red is an active character. I’ve said this many times before that the events in The Nightmare Begins are crucial to the rest of the story. His direct actions caused integral parts of the part to occur and therefore he can’t truly be separated from its story either.

Purple in turn has been a reactive character, often taking a backseat and going along with Red’s plans instead of creating them himself. He, however, is the Tallest that remembers the full names and definitions of their technology, how it is used, and what for. (The Nightmare Begins, Walk for your Lives)

Purple has always been shown to be more trigger-happy while Red enjoys waiting things out just to see what will happen. Purple cracks under pressure and is generally unwilling to do hard work while Red knows how to take control of a situation and has more responsibility toward their position. (Backseat Driver’s from Beyond the Stars)

Hell, it even goes down to how Purple is visually seen to be the one mostly snacking while Red is mostly drinking.

The differences might not be super noticeable and are not as polarizing as other characters, but I can’t help but notice them when watching those episodes.

Sometimes people have to think about how the actions or dialogue of a character signify a character’s personality. There’s a lot I’ve been able to take from even just a single scene, but as a writer and actress, I always hyper focus on characters regardless.

Now here’s where headcanons come in- There’s something that could actually cause a distinctive riff between these two, and that’s how Zim is dealt with.

Think about it, what event could possibly make both Tallest have polarizing views against one another? Say the show was allowed to branch away from the status quo, maybe if we saw more of them in ETF,

Given that Zim’s mission to Earth (as well as Gir) was Red’s idea and not Purple’s, and given that Purple is shown more willing to blow people up and get stuff over with fast- Purple could very well blame Red for the consequential issues Zim continues to give them. Who’s to say Red won’t also think it’s his fault, who’s to say Purple wouldn’t decide to do things ‘his’ way.

But that is speculation and character expansion, that is not what is already objectively there. What is objectively there are two Tallest. One is a performer, someone who actively allows plot points to occur, is able to take control of his job even if he can’t always speak eloquently, his boisterous showmanship almost makes up for it. Another is an observer, quick to violence yet freezes when it comes to danger. He’s childish, but he seems to know more than he lets on, instead choosing to live it up in luxury.

They’re both assholes for sure, as is a majority of this wonderfully chaotic cast, but they aren’t static in the slightest!

Also Please check out the Main series Invader Zim, It’s good! I promise you!

#Invader Zim #yeah just me talking about characters me and a whole 4 other people like #but Jhonen and the voice actors and the writers all put a lot into these characters and they deserve some recognition #Tallest Red #Tallest Purple #are there vague Catalyst spoilers in this? a lil bit yeah #don't worry bout it

382 notes · View notes

thimbil · 3 years

Text

Having some thoughts about the references and inspirations used for the Bad Batch’s designs.

So Boba Fett is my absolute favorite character and Temeura Morrison was perfect casting. I went to see the 2008 TCW movie in theaters because I was so excited to see him again, even if he was animated. You can imagine my disappointment. Whoever was on screen was not Temeura Morrison. You could sort of see a resemblance if you squinted and didn’t think too hard about it. They replaced Temeura with Racially Ambiguous G.I. Joe. If I didn’t know better and someone told me the animated clones are space Italians from the moon of New Jersey I would buy it. One Million Brothers Pizzeria and Italian Bistro. Not that there’s something wrong with being space Italian, I just don’t think it’s the right choice for the Fetts. The design got slightly improved by season 7 but it still bugs the hell out of me.

I did eventually get into the show later and (of course) got invested in the clones. Unfortunately, they were largely sidelined by the Jedi storylines. Out of the two new main characters created for TCW, Ahsoka definitely got more development and focus than Rex. When they announced The Bad Batch, I was excited to see a show specifically devoted to the clones… at least that’s what it said on the tin. We have all seen what lurks beneath those stylish helmets.

Jango Fett, you are NOT the father.

So who is?

Based on interviews with Filoni, it sounds like the Bad Batch was a George Lucas idea. And like all his ideas, it’s super derivative. The original trilogy directly lifted elements from sci fi serials, westerns, and samurai movies, more specifically Kurosawa films like The Hidden Fortress. For The Bad Batch character designs, the influence is obviously American action and adventure movies.

Now let’s get specific. Bad Batch, who’s your daddy?

Hunter

Sylvester Stallone as Rambo in First Blood 1982. That bandana has become an integral part of the iconic action hero look. You see a character wearing one and it’s a visual shorthand for either “this character is a tough guy” like Billy played by Sonny Landham in Predator 1987, or “this character thinks he is/wants to be a tough guy” like Brand played by Josh Brolin in The Goonies 1985 or Edward Frog played by Corey Feldman in The Lost Boys 1987.

Hunter’s model is closest to the original clone base. If you look closely you will see the eyebrows are straighter with a much lower angle to the arch. His nose is also not the same shape as a standard clone like Rex, including a narrower bridge. It’s certainly not Temeura Morrison’s nose. Remember what I said about space Italians? It didn’t take much to push the existing clone design to resemble an specific Italian man instead of a specific Māori man. The 23&Me came back, and Hunter inherited more than the bandana from Sylvester.

Crosshair

The long narrow nose, the sharp cheekbones, the scowl. That’s no clone, that’s just animated Clint Eastwood. Not even Young and Hot Clint Eastwood from Rawhide 1959-1965. With that hair, I’m talking Gran Torino 2008. The man of few words schtick and family friendly toothpick in lieu of cigar are pure Eastwood as The Man With No Name from Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns A Fist Full of Dollars 1964, For a Few Dollars More 1965, and The Good the Bad and the Ugly 1966.

In a way, this is full circle because the actor Jeremy Bulloch took inspiration from Clint Eastwood for his performance as Boba Fett in ESB.

Wrecker

In an interview Filoni lists the Hulk as an (obvious) inspiration for Wrecker. Ever seen the old Hulk tv show from 1978? Well take a look at the actor who played him, Lou Ferrigno. Would you look at that. Even has his papa’s nose.

You could make the argument that Wrecker was influenced by The Rock, an appropriately buff ‘n bald Polynesian (Samoan, not Maori) man. But look at him next his Fast and Furious costar Vin Diesel and tell me which one resembles Wrecker’s character model more.

Tech

Tech is a little trickier for me to place. If he has a more direct inspiration it must be something I haven’t seen. That said, his hairline is very Bruce Willis as John McClane in Die Hard 1988. His quippiness and large glasses remind me of Shane Black as Hawkins from Predator 1987. In terms of his face, he looks a but like the result of McClane and Hawkins deciding to settle down and start a family. Although, Tech’s biggest contributors are probably just everyone on TV Trope’s list for Smart People Wear Glasses.

And finally,

Echo

Oh Echo. Considering he wasn’t created for the Bad Batch, he probably wasn’t based on a particular character or movie. But if I had to guess, his situation and appearance remind me a lot of Alex Murphy played by Peter Weller in Robocop 1987. However, Robocop explored the Man or Machine Identity Crisis with more nuance, depth, and dignity. Yikes.

The exact tropes and references used in The Bad Batch have been done successfully with characters who aren’t even human. Gizmo from Gremlins 2: The New Batch 1990 had a brief stint with the Rambo bandana. I could have picked any number of characters for Defining Feature Is Glasses but here is the most cursed version of Simon of Alvin and the Chipmunks. Suffer as I have. Marc Antony with his beloved Pussyfoot from Looney Tunes has the same tough guy with a soft center vibe as Wrecker and his Lula (also a kind of cat). Hell, in the same show we have Cad Bane sharing Cowboy Clint Eastwood with Crosshair. I actually think Bane makes a better Eastwood which is wild considering Crosshair has Eastwood’s entire face and Bane is blue.

So we’ve established you don’t need your characters to look exactly like their inspirations to match their vibe. So why go through the trouble and cost of creating completely new character designs instead of recycling and altering assets they already had on hand? Just slap on a bandana, toothpick, goggles, and make Wrecker bigger than the others while he does a Hulk pose and you’re done. Based on the general reaction to Howzer it would have been a low effort slam dunk crowd pleaser.

But they didn’t do that.

So here’s the thing. I like the tropes used in The Bad Batch. I am a fan of action adventure movies from the 80s-90s, the sillier the better. I am part of the Bad Batch’s target audience. Considering what I know about Disney and Lucasfilm, I went in with low expectations. I genuinely don’t hate the idea of seeing references to these actors and media in The Bad Batch. I don’t think basing these characters on tropes was a bad idea. If anything it’s a solid starting point for building the characters.

The trouble is nothing got built on the foundation. The plot is directionless, the pacing is wacky, and the characters have nearly no emotional depth or defining character arcs. They just sort of exist without reacting much while the story happens around them. But I can excuse all of that. You don’t stay a fan of Star Wars as long as I have not being able to cherrypick and fill in the gaps. This show has a deeper issue that shouldn’t be ignored.

Why do the animated clones bear at best only a passing resemblance to their live action actor? In interviews, Filoni wouldn’t shut up but the technological advancements in the animation for season 7. So if they are updating things, why not try to make the clones a closer match to their source material? Why did they have to look like completely different people in The Bad Batch to be “unique”? Looking like Temeura Morrison would have no bearing on their special abilities and TCW proved you can have identical looking characters and still have them be distinct. In fact, that’s a powerful theme and the source of tragedy for the clones’ narrative overall.

Here’s Filoni’s early concept art of Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, and Hunter. (Interesting but irrelevant: Wrecker seems to have a cog tattoo similar to Jesse’s instead of a scar. Wouldn’t it have been funny if they kept that so when they met in season 7 one if them could say something like “Hey we’re twins!” That’s a little clone humor. Just for you guys 😘)

None of these drawings look like the clones in TCW, much less Temeura Morrison. Let’s be generous. Maybe Filoni struggles with drawing a real person’s likeness, as many people do. But he had to hand this off to other artists down the line whose job specifically involves making a stylized character resemble their actor. Yet the final designs missed the mark almost as much as this initial concept. Starting to seem as if the clones looking more like Temeura Morrison was never even on the table. It wasn’t a lack of creativity, skill or technical limitations on the part of the creative team. I don’t think there is an innocent explanation. They went out of their way to make the final product exactly how we got it.

This goes beyond homage. They could have made the same pop culture references and character tropes without completely stripping Temeura Morrison from the role he originated. It was a very purposeful choice to replace him with more immediately familiar actors from established franchises and films. It wouldn’t shock me if Filoni, Lucas, and anyone else calling the shots didn’t even think hard or care enough about the decision to immediately recognize a problem. And I don’t think they believed anyone else would either. At least no one whose opinion they cared about. Those faces are comfortingly familiar and proven bankable. They are what we’re all used to seeing after all. They’re white.

Lack of imagination, bad intentions, or simple ignorance doesn’t really matter in the end. The result is the same. Call it what it is. They replaced a man of color with a bunch of white guys. That’s by the book garden variety run of the mill whitewashing. There’s no debate worth having about it. For a fanbase that loves to nitpick things like whether or not it’s in character for Han to shoot first or Jeans Guy in the Mandalorian, we sure are quick to find excuses for clones who look nothing like their template. Why is that? If you don’t see the problem, congratulations. Your ass is showing. Pull your jeans up.

#star wars #the bad batch #unwhitewashtbb #wrecker #crosshair #tech #hunter #echo

254 notes · View notes

sairenharia · 3 years

Text

Sentimonster Adrien Theory 2

Spoilers for all of Season 4 as of 8/31/21

For my previous thoughts, and the validity of at least SOMEONE on the cast being a Sentimonster, refer to: Here

As a note, my previous theory was written after Ladybug and BEFORE Chat Blanc, and Felix. I will be retreading ground for Adrien specifically, but basic belief in there being a sentimonster is there.

Something I just want to say, I don’t think Adrien being a Sentimonster negates the abuse Gabriel inflicted on him. What it does is explain why GABRIEL is able to justify it, but seeing where someone is coming from does not excuse them of their actions. Gabriel has to repent. The fact is Adrien is a person even if Senti!Adrien is true, and that doesn’t change just because he’s not human. Treating someone who can think and feel cruelly is never a good thing.

That being said, evidence and why I think Adrien really might not be human.

A: The Wish

We know Emilie is in the basement. She is in some kind of stasis. We know the Wish involves her.

We do not know Gabriel’s wish. We very deliberately do not know Gabriel’s wish, because we, the audience, hear him talk about it a lot, but only in vague terms. He wants his wish, he wants to change time, he wants to achieve a goal.

But he’s never said he wants to wake Emilie up, fix her, bring her back. He wants to do something for her sake, but its not the most obvious thing.

So its NOT the most obvious thing. There is no reason to be vague about this unless its to elude to a deeper meaning. The obvious wish is too obvious to be obtuse.

And more importantly, we know Emilie and Gabriel wanted something fifteen years ago thanks to the Shanghai special. Something to do with the human virtues, potentially.

We know Marinette is fourteen now. So Adrien’s birthday in Bubbler was his fourteenth birthday.

The want for something started around the time Adrien should have been conceived.

B: Ask for Forgiveness, not Permission.

Adrien doesn’t like to ask his father for things. We see this over and over again with him sneaking out to things like the Startrain, or say he’s going to fencing with Kagami, and other excuses. Sometimes he does try to do things in the straight forward way, but when there are things he really wants to go to, things he doesn’t want to have to accept a no, he sneaks out.

Like the class trip. Like going to see his mother’s movie.

And when Adrien is told directly ‘no,’ he will often listen. For Adrien. Chat Noir, however, is a different entity, and he often uses it for a reason for why he can go out. Chat can, Adrien can’t.

To date, the only time Adrien has gone against a direct order from Gabriel is in regards to going to school.

And Chat Blanc.

I’ll get to Chat Blanc.

Adrien was told he could not attend school, and he accepted that. Until he became Chat Noir and only then did he rebel. Interestingly, when he was pulled from school after the book incident, he didn’t plan to just run away again. We know he was willing to disobey to attend, so why did the ban take this time?

Perhaps because Gabriel made it a thing that was allowed. It wasn’t an outright rebellion, it was a thing earned and then lost.

C: What Is The Amok?

Its the rings.

Not ring.

Its BOTH RINGS.

Which may or may not be magic items in of themselves, but there is not enough information for that.

When Gabriel transforms, there is a distinctive beep. When we first see the basement, we hear that beep again. We we see the rings in Felix, we hear that beep yet again. This beep is a sound cue of significance in regards to Gabriel and Emilie.

And here is the thing. If Adrien is a Sentimonster, he’s meant to be their child. Which comes into some questionable things, ethically speaking, for his free will. They don’t want Adrien to know he’s a Sentimonster. They could tell him to always hold onto his Amok, but he’s the son of very wealthy people. Even without being a model, there is every chance his Amok could be stolen because he’d be a target for theft.

But just having the Amok sitting somewhere is dangerous.

And what if it gets broken?

The only way to keep Adrien’s Amok safe is for one of his parents to have it....or both.

Crocoduel has shown us an item can be Akumatized and taken apart at the moment of enchantment and exist as two separate things. And a bonus, the item has to be put together and THEN broken to break the magic.

And here are the twin rings that are perfect copies of each other and get clean together really nice and maybe they attach a little bit? Having two rings stay together that well while cleaning is quite the party trick if there isn’t something to that. But visually speaking, it tells us, the audience, these are two halves of the same whole.

And it allows a little bit in the form of free will. Because if someone does not possess BOTH rings, they cannot control Adrien completely. Its still incredibly hard for Adrien to resist, but he IS capable of disagreeing at the very least.

Of course, when combined with the home atmosphere, his ability to resist doesn’t account for much without extreme circumstances, but still.

We can see this with Sentibubbler. The moment Ladybug had the coffee cup, he changed tracks without a sign of hesitation or confusion. Because he just had the one item. Even though Ladybug was ordering him with more autonomy then Shadow Moth. (I will also get into that.)

This is also why in Felix, Gabriel immediately goes to retrieve Emilie’s ring to wear. Sure, accusing Felix of stealing the ring gets into a whole legal lawsuit that makes it complicated and would make it difficult to retrieve the ring. Its a whole hassle, but it doesn’t explain why he needs to wear Emilie’s ring.

Except Felix has the ring that is one half of Adrien’s Amok.

Gabriel HAS to wear the ring, because Emilie cannot influence Adrien in any way, but Felix can. Gabriel has to balance out whatever Felix may do to Adrien, so he takes his wife ring. And its why he can’t get into the legal battle because he has to wear the ring to protect ADRIEN, and if they see him with the ring, there will be questions he can’t answer.

This also may explain Gabriel seems even more harsh to Adrien after Emilie’s disappearance despite some oddities.

Adrien wasn’t allowed to go to school while Emilie was around. But Gabriel granted it. When Adrien wants for things he wasn’t allowed before and is willing to fight for it, Gabriel grants it.

I don’t think Gabriel’s authoritative nature has truly changed that much. I think what changed was Adrien’s PERSPECTIVE of it. Because before, Emilie was a constant counter to his need to obey. Now he doesn’t have that, so being told what to do feels more absolute. I think the thing that truly changed was how much time and affection Gabriel was willing to show Adrien in his pain, not how much he restricted him.

Which still ain’t great.

Though that is a thought. Maybe Gabriel avoids Adrien because he knows he’s a commanding sort and he’s trying to not do overly much. Which is why most of his time around Adrien is when he can critique him, because it gives him a focus for orders? It would be a twist.

D: What About Chat Blanc? Or rather, what about Plagg.

So I’ve heard people say Chat Blanc disproves this theory because that is certainly a time to command Adrien to obey with his Amok! Which true, except for two things.

One, the end of Felix has little reason to change in the new timeline. Adrien and Marinette dated for at least a little while which was shortly before Felix happened. Felix still visited.

What might have changed was what kind of terrorizing Felix did on Adrien.

What has no reason to change is Felix stealing the ring.

Which means Gabriel DIDN’T have the means to absolutely command Adrien to do anything, we only had half the Amok.

And the fact the Amok was in two pieces is why Chat Blanc didn’t destroy himself if Gabriel’s ring was still capable of being destroyed while he was transformed, and if London still got wrecked. We saw in Crocoduel the item has to be COMBINED and THEN destroyed. Destroying both at once doesn’t count.

And it would explain something in Chat Blanc.

We know the move he TRIED to do was kill himself. He engulfed himself in the power before it went out of control.

We also know, officially of Guilt Trip, that cataclysm DOESN’T KILL SENTIMONSTERS. It makes it so the Amok doesn’t control them, usually go crazy. We saw Chat Noir get Cataclysm’d in Miraculer, but he didn’t turn to ash. We don’t even know if he truly died. He was suffering, to be sure, and we see Sentimonsters take damage. He could have been damaged.

But Chat Blance is a Sentimonster AND an Akuma, so he was able to take the damage more and went absolutely off the rails instead, and instead of blaming Gabriel, like he should have...

He blamed Ladybug.

Because he was no longer connected to what gave Gabriel control over him. The only ‘control’ over himself he recognized was Ladybug’s influence and his own love.

And then there’s Plagg’s influence, which ties into Cataclysm. Sentimonsters cannot be killed by Plagg’s magic, but they can be FREED of control thanks to his magic. As I said in my first post, the one time we see Adrien disobey as direct order, its after he meets Plagg and goes to school. He uses Chat Noir as a means to disobey all the time.

In being bonded to Plagg, Adrien is given genuine free will and freedom, over the manufactured version that his parents made with a split Amok. He is able to decide things on his own, because he has the chaos magic that grants him the ability to SAY NO. To develop his own means of rebelling.

Ask for forgiveness over permission. And sometimes, learning to say no anyway.

This doesn’t change the conditioning Adrien has been through. He’s obedient to a fault because that is all he’s ever known. Its just instead of fear and gaslighting having trained this into him, it was magic. His parents never NEEDED to be cruel, Emilie COULD be as kind as Adrien says, because they never needed to use negative reinforcement on him.

They had magic.

And that was able to do the job just as well.

Plagg is able to naturally counter the magic. And he’s giving Adrien the unconditional love and support to help him learn, but Adrien is still a person, still has a personality. And the mental bars he has around his head are just as effective as the magic ones were.

E. Shadow Moth vs Mayura

There is something I’ve noticed between how Shadow Moth and Mayura operate.

Mayura made Sentmonsters for others, but she did make one for herself: Ladybug. But here is the thing about Sentibug, she gave her orders. Gave her a general guideline. And then she let Sentibug take those orders and just go.

Shadow Moth, when he makes an Amok, does not do this. He allows others to control Sentimonsters as they will, and often Sentimonsters are just given general guidelines, but not Shadow Moth’s Sentimonsters. Sentibubbler, SentiNino, SentiAlec are Sentimonsters Shadow Moth made.

And he didn’t give them orders. He didn’t give them guidelines.

They were Literal Puppets.

He controlled their movements. He SPOKE THEIR WORDS FOR THEM.

Out of all the Sentimonsters, Gabriel is literally the only one who has used his Sentimonster this way.

And I think there’s a good reason for it. I don’t think Gabriel is capable of making an entity that can act on its own, but is still a complete slave to his will and be okay with it.

Because what does that say about Adrien?

Akumas are fine because those are PEOPLE. People he manipulated and coerced, people he threatened, but they are still people. They can still refuse him and he knows it.

Puppets are find because that’s all they are, puppets.

But this middle ground that Sentimonsters are, that is what Adrien is. And Gabriel is unable to cope with that because it means seeing his son as a tool and despite how much of a genuinely terrible person Gabriel is, that is not something he’s willing to see in himself.

So he hyper controls the Sentimonsters and Does Not Think About It.

F. Wishmaker.

Listen, its valid to have a wish as a child to be what your parents wanted to be. Depending on parents, it could be a perfectly healthy wish.

Here’s the thing.

Everytime Wishmaker granted a wish, we saw people at the age they wanted that wish granted. They were children when they had this wish.

ADRIEN WAS AN INFANT.

And here’s the thing.

Infants don’t think of others. Infants are a bundle of vulnerability that is very curious about the world and don’t want to die and is trying to figure out how to make its wants known. Infants are selfish beings because they are just trying to survive in this world they’ve shown up in.

An infant doesn’t think about what its parents want.

Adrien should not have been CAPABLE of having that wish as an INFANT.

Not unless he wasn’t human.

A Sentimonster sure does want to do what its Amok holder wants.

And what his parents wanted was a son. What they wanted was Adrien.

So that’s why Adrien appears as Adrien for the wish, because for all he has doubts, the Sentimonster in him knows that is what they wanted.

F2. Gabriel and Emilie’s eyes.

....idk, fam. The fact their eye colors were switched FEELS important and we’ve supposedly seen Emilie at seventeen with green eyes and her sister has green eyes, so what’s up with that is wei-

F2. GABRIEL AND EMILIE’S EYES, A THOUGHT I LITERALLY HAD RIGHT NOW.

The Amok is both rings. Gabriel and Emilie have their own rings. The rings they have always worn as their own.

Felix, with green eyes, has Gabriel’s ring.

Gabriel, with blue eyes, has Emilie’s ring.

The reason the eyes are switched in Adrien’s memory is because he associates the eyes with the ring and the current holder of the specific ring have THOSE EYES. He knows the faces they SHOULD be, but the eyes are DIFFERENT because the holders are DIFFERENT.

G. Allergies.

Its still funny if a boy made out of a feather has a feather allergy. It may also be a defense mechanism put in. Logically, any peacock user will have feathers. Maybe he’s allergic in case they ever lose the peacock, he’ll avoid the holder while they’re transformed at least. Maybe it could even distract the holder from noticing anything off about him.

H. Obedience.

Adrien is obedient. Which is one of the reasons he’s a suspect Sentimonster. I won’t go into this because I already talked about his Permission versus Forgiveness thing.

I. Taking Charge

I talked about before about Adrien taking charge and struggling with it, but I also have another point about it.

The thing is, we see Adrien excel at second in command....but also when he’s Chat Noir.

Adrien did BADLY as Mister Bug and as Aspik. But the thing is, Plagg wasn’t there at the time. As Mister Bug, Plagg was with Marinette. As Aspik, the ring is in the weird pocket dimension things are bamf’d away and while Plagg is around, his power isn’t bonded to Adrien.

Adrien has proven able to figure out Ladybug’s plans with minimal instructions. The fact Mister Bug couldn’t even get to step one is weird.

He tried being Aspik for months and was unable to figure out what he needed to do, focused solely on the objective of protect Ladybug. Unable to step back and think beyond his goal. Three months is a long time to not come up with ANYTHING.

Its like Adrien’s ability to decide things on his own was compromised. Like his free will was stripped away, hindered by the rings that control him. He could try to focus on protecting Ladybug, but he couldn’t figure out a good way to take down the enemy on his own.

His father didn’t want him to.

We do see Adrien can lead well. When he wanted to talk to Juleka in Guilt Trip, HE was the one making the right decision. But he was unable to overtake Marinette’s charisma, so even if he could think of what to do, how to handle the situation, he doesn’t have the force of personality to overtake a true leader.

We see Chat Noir have plans and direct a crowd.

With Plagg granting him agency, he’s able to make good decisions, good calls, able to use that brain of his well. Its when he loses Plagg he struggles the most.

J. The Need To Be Useful

Adrien thinks he needs to be useful. He needs to be good and perfect. And yes, this is reinforced by Gabriel’s treatment of him, always criticizing him, but it is a kind of curious fear.

Adrien has two great fears.

The fear of trapped isolation and the fear of rejection.

The fear of trapped isolation is the one Gabriel has reinforced. Adrien has only shown a fear of his father rejecting him once, during Christmas, when he was frustrated in the idea Gabriel would not spend time with him, and even then, Adrien chose to make it a reality on his own first.

And its very likely Gabriel was affectionate when he was younger.

I think the fear of rejection from Gabriel is a newer one that Adrien is aware of. After Gabriel has refused to be around Adrien.

But I think the fear was ALWAYS there. Because he is an Sentimonster. If a Sentimonster isn’t useful, then they have no reason to exist. And the thing is, while Adrien fears this, there is also a strong part of him that is RESIGNED to it.

Which makes it even weirder in that Gabriel’s behavior should make this a NEWER fear...unless it was part of Adrien’s natural existence. One of a Sentimonster. He’s afraid of it, because he wants people, he loves people, but there is a part of him that just....accepts it as a natural consequence.

One that isn’t worth fighting.

Like he isn’t in season four right now.

K. Memories

Adrien couldn’t remember having childhood dreams. We know he used to play with Chloe and...that’s it. There’s even implication his modeling is a Newer Thing instead of being a child model.

We know he didn’t have a childhood dream. He never had a childhood wish. Which is weird because Adrien is the biggest romantic dreamer of the series save for ROSE. He never thought about being a charming knight, a magical girl, even just being a superhero? He was all on board with being a superhero when offered, like he’s thought about it a lot!

But it wasn’t something he called a childhood dream.

But you know who probably did have being a superhero as a childhood dream?

Chloe.

If Adrien has two Amoks to make a facsimile of free will, it may have been impossible for him to truly ‘dream’ in the sense Wishmaker was talking about. It was too deep of a want for him to truly conceptualize enough to count.

But he played games with Chloe, he still saw the wishes and dreams and fantasies that he could enjoy with her as a proxy.

Perhaps that is why they were such good friends. Chloe wanted things so fiercely that for Adrien, who struggled to want, he was able to figure out how to do it with her influence. Not enough for a childhood dream, but enough to know how to want enough that it gave him a love for people. A need for more in his life beyond the perfect son.

L. Emotions.

Adrien is the heart of the Ladybug and Chat Noir duo. The Peacock is the Miraculous of Emotions. Adrien has shown a difficulty at controlling his own feelings. He can control his REACTIONS, but its hard for him to figure out what to do about his feelings beyond ‘conceal, don’t feel.’

Which is weird, because he’s extremely empathetic. He’s very good at judging others emotions (save for Marinette ‘Just A Friend’ Dupain-Cheng.) He can offer comfort and figure out is they need space or help. The fact he struggles with his own says maybe his are just too strong.

Like he’s a being Made Of Emotions.

M. Narrative Foreshadowing.

Just saying it again.

It comes up a lot with Adrien becoming some kind of puppet, copy, impostor. It happens so much. SO MUCH.

Also he was the first one to think Sentibug was a Real Person.

Then there is the end of Mega Leech.

Could it just be another example of Adrien being emotionally abused? Sure.

However, considering how often this series genuinely glosses over abuse (Adrien, Chloe, Kagami, even Zoe to an extent), its weird to just throw that in at the end of an episode that, frankly, barely involves Adrien’s emotions.

Save one.

Adrien was told it was a perfume commercial. He was Lied To. He was told One Thing was Another.

And there is the framing. There is the double focus on the ring, the focus on the words. There is so much focus on this being a command that could not be denied, and that doesn’t need to involve the ring AT ALL if it was abuse.

Unless, of course, the ring was an Amok.

Then the visual cues make a whole lot more sense.

N. The Wild Mass Guessing.

Now what is the wish.

Clearly Emilie’s use of the peacock is what made her sick and it made her sick for years. Now whether the peacock was ALREADY BROKEN or Emilie broke it is up in the air. Either way, we know she used the peacock longterm. Since there is no talk of supervillains or previous superheroes, it seems highly unlikely she was granting people super powered monsters.

So, her use was for a Sentimonster. Perhaps trying to split the Amok broke the peacock. Perhaps that one use was enough to make her sick, but because it was just the one time, it took years for the magical sickness to take her down. That is all up in the air.

What we do know, the crux of the wish is fifteen years ago. Which means it involves Adrien’s existence in some way. It likely involves rewriting time a bit.

And here is the thing.

Gabriel loves Adrien. He does. He’s a trash person, he’s toxic at best, abusive at worst, but HE LOVES ADRIEN.

What if the peacock was broken when they found it. What is Emilie DIDN’T break it?

‘I wish the Peacock was never broken.’

Fifteen years ago, Gabriel and Emilie were trying to have a baby. But they were unable to conceive. Amelie had her own baby boy, and he’s beautiful, and Emilie and Gabriel just hurt more at their inability to have a child.

(This is why adoption should be seen as more valid, folks, but that’s neither here nor there.)

But Emilie’s family knows of magic. Because let’s be fair, there is something truly suspicious about that lot and it screams they know magic stuff. Emilie has heard of grand artifacts and magics and maybe there is away around this limitation.

They explore the world, research magic artifacts, until they finally find the Peacock and Butterfly Miraculous. They are able to learn what they can do, either from Nooroo and Duusu. Clearly an Akuma does nothing for them, but a Sentimonster?

That had possibilities.

But the Peacock is broken.

Emilie doesn’t care.

They experiment. She uses the Peacock more and more, but she figures out the trick. She figures out how to make a child, how to make him SAFE.

Adrien is created, using the sign of their union, and the Miraculous are locked away.

But Emilie is still sick from figuring out how to create Adrien. And the years go by and she doesn’t get better, but she doesn’t care. She has her son. A son both her and Gabriel love, but they have to be careful. He’s not human, after all, just a little off.

Let him meet Chloe, because the Bourgeios are hardly normal. Slowly socialize him. Keep him inside so no one sees how odd he is. Keep him safe. He grows, happy enough, independent ENOUGH to believe.

Then Emilie collapses.

And doesn’t get up.

Gabriel is the only one with active control. He keeps Emilie’s ring on her finger and hides her away, but now, he’s the only one who can order his son. He doesn’t want to destroy what independent thought Adrien has achieved, doesn’t want to destroy HIS SON, so he keeps his distance. He only interacts in ways where he can be silent, or criticize what he has always criticized. Doesn’t even dare to get him a gift for his birthday because what if that becomes far too important?

As Adrien shows a rebellious streak, does things for himself, asks for things HE wants, things that Gabriel will sometimes give if its deemed safe, and Gabriel tentatively shows a little more attention. Goes to a few events, goes on a few trips. Not for long, brief amounts of time, hoping that Adrien keeps being Himself.

Because he can’t take off the ring.

Taking off the ring means leaving Adrien vulnerable.

And he fights Ladybug and Chat Noir for his wish.

If the Peacock wasn’t broken/didn’t break, then Emilie wouldn’t have gotten sick. She would wake up and Adrien wouldn’t be erased by his sole control. Maybe if he’s bold enough, he can just make sure Adrien was never at risk of being a puppet again. Take the Amok’s out of the equation, make his son real.

And if time is altered then....then it doesn’t MATTER if Adrien is hurt NOW. If he hates being alone. If Gabriel fails, at least he doesn’t erase what little will his son has left. If Gabriel wins, then literally nothing done matters!

Sometimes he forgets that. He sees Adrien in danger, and he feels that fear, that need to save his son.

Sometimes he remembers, tells himself if he wins, then any harm he caused Adrien with Riposte, with Style Queen, WITH CHAT BLANC, will no longer matter. He just had to win, he has to win, he has to win because it will return Emilie, and it will ensure his son is never lost in the magic that makes his soul.

It doesn’t matter who he hurts. It doesn’t matter how villainous he becomes. None of it matters as long as he achieves his end.

Once, he even thinks of explaining it to Adrien. Tell him he’s Hawk Moth. Tell him he’s a Sentimonster. He knows the distance hurts his son, but if he knew why, then Adrien would understand just how much he loves Adrien.

He keeps his distance so he doesn’t accidentally change Adrien.

He’s Hawk Moth so he can save Emilie and Adrien.

He will fix everything once he wins, and he regrets how often he had hurt Adrien until then.

And then Adrien talks about how he’s noticed Gabriel and Nathalie becoming closer and Nathalie has the Peacock. Adrien is switching his loyalty from Emilie to Nathalie, he’s changing due to MAGIC and Gabriel is furious because he’s been too lax, been too kind, he needs to WIN.

When the Peacock will no longer hurt, when Nathalie will stop fighting him on him using it, he takes it. To keep Adrien from changing more due to magic.

There are times where Gabriel’s heart remind him of his love. He can’t hurt his son then.

There are times where he remembers his goal. If he wins, whatever harm he caused Adrien doesn’t matter, and he HAS to win.

And he throws himself more and more and more into the fight, into winning because if he can win, then he can save everyone important to him.

What does it matter if Adrien suffers now as long as its undone?

#ml-spoilers #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #emilie agreste #sentimonster #sentimonster theory #senti!adrien #ml season 4 #cw: child abuse #cw: toxic relationship

55 notes · View notes

animefeminist · 3 years

Text

Indie developer Foxglove Games on queer representation and their new visual novel Trouble Comes Twice

In recent years, indie developers have led the way in LGBTQ+ representation in visual novels. Through same-gender romance routes and options for choosing player characters’ gender, these developers have welcomed players to explore more diverse characters and relationships than earlier, often commercial, visual novels have portrayed before. Foxglove Games, a new developer on the scene and based in Europe, is working to add to this diversity of representation with their forthcoming visual novel Trouble Comes Twice. This new game, currently in development, offers players two distinct queer characters to play as, twin siblings Jace and Hazel.

I sat down with Clara and Melli of Foxglove Games to discuss their project and queer representation in visual novels.

What was the initial inspiration for the premise of Trouble Comes Twice?

Both: We didn’t have a specific source of inspiration. We both enjoy slice-of-life as a genre in general though, so we of course included some of our favorite tropes from the genre, e.g. childhood friends.

Other visual novels, particularly in the indie game realm, offer different gender options for the player when they first start playing. Trouble Comes Twice does this a bit differently from other games by giving the player two distinct protagonists to choose from: twins Jace and Hazel. Why did you choose this approach? How did it affect the development process? Since both protagonists can date any character, how does a love interest’s route look different depending on which twin you play?

Both: Usually in visual novels, the protagonist is always exactly the same regardless of which gender you choose to play as. Of course, gender-choice protagonists are also cool, but we thought it’d be fun to do something different and give players an opportunity to not only play as a boy or a girl, but two completely different characters who happen to be different genders. Since Hazel and Jace are twins, you still get to meet the other protagonist in every route and see a different side of them when you’re not playing as them.

Clara (Hazel’s writer): Keeping the protagonist’s personality and voice consistent between two different writers can be difficult, so designing one protagonist each helped us overcome this hurdle. Writing healthy family relationships is something we both enjoy and would love to see more of, so making our two protagonists be twins was a decision we made early in development. I think it’ll be a lot of fun for players to see how your sibling reacts to your relationship with the love interests in different routes and then compare it to how that sibling behaves when romancing those love interests themselves. For me, one of the hardest parts about writing a game with two protagonists is that it’s double the work. For players who only try one protagonist, it might not be noticeable how big the game is, but it’s actually over 300k words long just for the main routes.

Read it at Anime Feminist!

#trouble comes twice #articles #foxglove games

46 notes · View notes

tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Explosive

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Gordon, Scott

The erupting volcano was almost sedate compared to the fraying tempers in the danger zone.

For @whumptober-archive’s day 5 “I’ve got red in my ledger” using the prompt broken nose. Today was tough - I actually started poking at alt. prompts for a while, but they didn’t want to flow, either. Still, we got somewhere in the end!

The sound of a breaking nose was distinctive. Cartilage crumpled, bone shattered, and it all combined into a unique symphony that once heard once, was never forgotten again.

Gordon had known that Scott was having trouble with some rescuees; it was hard not to, when their loud and explosive protests had been broadcasting clearly through Scott’s open comm. That was the whole reason he’d left the other part of the danger zone – a small town directly in the path of a leisurely yet unrelenting volcanic eruption – to Virgil and Alan in order to back their big brother up. Sure, Virgil probably could corral their reluctant rescuees with a combination of his seemingly-eternal patience and sheer bulk, but if Scott’s Commander persona wasn’t getting through, then Gordon wasn’t a fan of throwing Virgil into the mix. Alan wasn’t even a consideration.

He’d recommended himself, John had agreed, and Scott hadn’t even given any indication that he’d heard him over the increasingly-aggressive sounding rescuee, so he went.

Unfortunately, it sounded very much like he hadn’t got there in time. There was, of course, a chance that Scott had snapped and been the first to lash out, but Gordon was doubtful that that was the case, even if he’d personally prefer it over Scott being the victim. Scott was good at keeping his temper under control on rescues, provided none of his family were threatened – and as he was alone in his sector of the danger zone, there was no way they were successfully threatening the rest of them. Ergo, the one with the freshly broken nose was Scott, and Gordon was incredibly displeased at that.

They were still shouting, none of their voices tinged with the tell-tale thickness of a broken nose, and the sound of more contact echoed across the comm.

Gordon accelerated a little more, breaking into a risky jog as he closed in on Scott’s location. Ungrateful and difficult rescuees were the worst, especially when they got violent towards his brothers. Scott could, in theory, handle it – although it was sounding rather like this time he couldn’t – but Kayo was the only other one of his siblings whose self-defence skills were greater than simply passable so Gordon often ended up as some form of defence.

That didn’t mean he liked doing it. They were there to help people, not fight them.

He slowed his pace again on the final approach, wanting to get a visual on the situation before actually getting involved. Blue and yellow wasn’t the best for stealth, but if no-one was actively looking for someone else nearby, he could disguise his presence reasonably well.

There were three of them, all yelling loudly. Smart businessmen in suits, but one was built a lot like Virgil and his face was a similar colour to Thunderbird Three as he roared at Scott. Gordon’s brother was backed up against a crumbling building that looked like it had been victimised by the warning quakes – another concern to keep an eye on – with one hand cupping his face in a way that made it perfectly clear that he was the one with the broken nose and the other balled into a fist of frustration.

His restraint was admirable; Gordon could tell that his temper was seething, and that the temptation was there to lash out in retaliation, but so far he hadn’t stooped to their level.

Gordon’s job was to make sure he didn’t.

“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?” he inquired, stepping over some other quake-caused rubble as he made his presence known – still far enough away that they couldn’t just take a swing at him. “You know, this area is in the path of a whole load of lava and leaving would be a really good idea.”

“We’re not leaving!” the red-faced hulk snarled. To Gordon’s relief, he turned away from Scott to face him instead. “Get your fancy machines over here and protect my property.”

One of those, was he? Gordon wished he was surprised, but the arrogant, sharply dressed businessmen almost always cared more for their property than their lives. It made them incredibly tiring to deal with.

“Sir, that’s a wall of lava bearing down on us,” he pointed out, taking another step closer. “We can’t stop it, just get everyone out of its path before they end up like the residents of Pompeii.”

And Herculaneum, John’s voice snarked in the back of his head, although John himself was too busy directing Virgil and Alan while keeping an eye on the volcano itself to contribute to the conversation.

Red turned to a rather impressive shade of purple instead. “I demand that you protect my property,” the man exploded, rather like the erupting volcano itself. “It’s worth more than you could possibly imagine.”

Considering the Tracys ranked somewhere particularly impressive in the list of richest families in the world, Gordon probably could. The attending Thunderbirds alone were likely worth more than whatever it was he was trying to protect. He knew better than to mention that, though.

“That volcano really doesn’t care,” he said instead, which probably wasn’t much better. Movement behind the men facing him indicated that Scott was doing the smart thing and getting out of his cornered situation, although Gordon wasn’t naïve enough to think that he was being smart enough to leave the confrontation entirely.

“I don’t care what the volcano thinks,” purple-face yelled, lunging forwards. Gordon had been wondering when he’d snap again.

Already on guard, and not hemmed in against a building with nowhere to go, it was a piece of cake to duck down beneath the flailing arm, watch him overbalance, then grab his wrist and yank him into a submission hold.

“Hey!” The other men reacted, but Gordon glared at them and they halted in their tracks.

“Look,” he told the struggling man. “Our job is people, not properties, and we’re not leaving you to die so either you come with us peacefully, or I’ll force you.” He tightened his grip. “And we do not appreciate being attacked for trying to save your sorry asses.”

“Gordon!” Scott scolded, although his name came out all mangled thanks to the broken nose. Gordon elected to ignore him.

“There’s nothing International Rescue can do to stop the volcano destroying whatever it wants to destroy,” he continued. Purple-face gaped breathlessly, while the other two watched. “So are you going to go to the evac zone willingly, or do I have to force you?”

Scott’s hand clamped down on his own shoulder, but Gordon continued to ignore him in favour of waiting for the answer.

It didn’t take long.

“I’ll go, I’ll go! Let me go and I’ll go right now!”

Like many of their more aggressive encounters, it was all bravado shielding a delicate ego. Gordon released him and quickly stepped backwards, out of range of any other potential attacks – pushing Scott out of the way as he did – but it seemed that this one actually knew when he was beaten.

A dark look, an under-the-breath grumble that was probably some version of the cliché I’ll get you for this, and the man scarpered. The other two, who were almost certainly just lackeys, followed hot on his heels, and Gordon watched them go with narrowed eyes.

“Gordon,” Scott repeated again, all nasally and disapproving. He rolled his eyes – it wasn’t like Scott wouldn’t have done the same or worse had their situations been reversed – before turning to face his big brother.

“How did you let that guy get a hit on you?” he asked, mostly as a distraction and not because he was interested in the answer. Scott huffed, then winced.

Gordon closed the gap between them and reached for his cheek, carefully prying the concealing hand out of the way so he could see the damage properly.

“Gordon-”

“There’s no-one else left in this sector, Virgil and Alan have the rest of it under control, and that lava’s taking its sweet time approaching,” he reminded him coolly. “There is plenty of time for me to check you over." He lay his hand gently on Scott’s cheek, pushing himself up on tip-toe to be closer to eye level.

His nose was going to need re-setting; Gordon could do it right there, but it’d be without painkillers, whereas if they waited until they were back to Thunderbird Two they’d have the full medical compliment, including Virgil. Blood dripped sluggishly down, crossing Scott’s upper lip and dripping periodically onto his lower, and the classic twin black eyes were already beginning to blossom.

Scott suffered the inspection impatiently, switching his weight from foot to foot and glancing around the danger zone with an angsty air. Gordon was too used to his big brother’s quirks to be bothered by any of that.

“You’re getting some beautiful shiners,” he declared, swiping away the next dribble of blood with his thumb before releasing Scott’s head. The look Scott gave him could only be interpreted as thank you, Captain Obvious. “No light-headedness, double-vision, or any other signs of concussion?”

“I’m fine,” came the muffled, irritated, response. Gordon suspected he was at least partially annoyed with himself for being jumped in the first place. “We have an evacuation to finish.” It came out more like we hab an ebacuadun do binid.

Gordon eyed him critically, well aware that Scott wouldn’t admit to anything if he thought he could just push through it, but concurred.

He changed his mind approximately four seconds later, when Scott stumbled and swayed slightly.

“No light-headedness?” he repeated pointedly, fingers firmly wrapped around his brother’s bicep and holding him upright.

Scott didn’t acknowledge that with a verbal response, but the way he tugged to keep walking was enough for Gordon.

“Change of plan,” he chirped, taking the lead and guiding a somewhat reluctant Scott straight towards Thunderbird Two. “Virgil and Alan finish off the evac while I give that head of yours a proper scan and we’ll see what’s wrong. Well, more wrong than usual, I mean.” He ducked a half-hearted swipe and tightened his grip when Scott threatened to overbalance again. “John, you get that?”

“F.A.B.,” their perpetually eavesdropping brother agreed, appearing above his wrist. “Virgil and Alan have been updated and the local authorities informed about the dangerous rescuees.”

“Perfect,” Gordon said. “Hear that, Scott? You’ve got nothing to do except let me check you over, and I’ve got nothing to do except check you over, so let’s go do that and make sure you didn’t get a concussion.”

“I’m not concussed,” Scott protested thickly.

“Which is exactly what a concussed Scott Tracy would say,” Gordon pointed out. Scott stumbled again and he graduated from holding his bicep to wrapping his arm around his waist. “It’s just one measly little scan, Scott. It won’t bite.”

The glare he got in response to that was almost enough to convince him that Scott was probably fine. Almost.

Gordon chuckled as they approached the large green Thunderbird. Her module was open, with rescuees milling around concernedly, so he made a beeline straight for the cockpit, Scott in tow. His brother stumbled again, and Gordon firmly pushed him to sit in one of the passenger seats before retrieving a medscanner.

No concussion, but there was a minor head injury – not including the obvious. Gordon supressed a growl that would’ve been aimed at people out of earshot regardless, and dabbed lightly at the blood still sluggishly trickling down with a clean gauze. His brother attempted to take over, or at the least bat him away, but Gordon caught his hand in his and guided it firmly to rest on his lap.

“Let me do it,” he scolded lightly. “I can actually see where it is.”

It was a pretty feeble reason, admittedly – mirrors existed – but Gordon didn’t particularly care because he had no intentions of passing over the ministrations to anyone else anyway. If he did, he might just cave to the roaring instincts to teach the man – men – responsible a detailed lesson on why no-one hurt Gordon’s brothers.

It was much better for everyone involved if he kept himself busy.

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #broken nose #thunderbirds are go #fic #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #tsari writes fanfiction #thunderwhump

31 notes · View notes