#they’re not always much younger either just like. two years is enough to make me wonder what would have happened if I was there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dadsbongos · 11 days ago

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wash me down something cold

1.6k words / warnings - arguing couple, cunnilingus

summary - vi stumbles home after another drunken loss, and you're not very pleased.

Vi isn’t self-critical, she knows.

She should be, at least a little.

And she’s not as fast as she should be, either.

(Purpling knuckles crack her ribs right about now, she grunts and retaliates wildly. An outraged animal biting rabidly, no plan or forethought beneath the barrel of a gun.)

And she still blocks with her face.

(One fist knocks her head right, a second whips it left feeling like her neck was about to rip straight from her collar.)

You’d think after countless alleyway black eyes, and canteen brawls ending with split lips, and Sevika’s big metal claw sending her sprawling unto a cold bar floor, and Jinx’s snappy palm, and the fucking butt of a gun -- Vi would’ve learned better. And you’d be wrong.

Because no matter how many times she’s knocked on her ass, Vi gets back up and always chooses wrong.

Like maybe drinking between fights wasn’t the best idea: her vision’s lopsided, the man in front of her spontaneously doubling and swirling around the ring.

Vi loses in a knockout. Roused only seconds later by four sluggish hands raising her from the dirty floor. She elbows off the good samaritans before stumbling onto both feet, tripping over herself mere seconds later and having to catch against the wall. Dazed, Vi looks up into the previously clogged seats and finds them unusually devoid of life.

She looks back to the two who’d been kind enough to hoist her up: blank faces, she doesn’t know if she’s seen them before but they look at her like she has. Like they’re expecting an apology for the rough treatment.

She doesn’t extend one, instead asking, “Where is she?”

Both shrug, one deciding to cut losses here and let the drunk pitfighter scramble her way home. The other, however, stays and asks in return, “Can you walk home?”

An earnest bend between his brows makes the question less sleazy. He frowns as she moans in pain.

“Do you need help getting home?”

Vehemently, she shakes her head -regretting it milliseconds later when a new incessant pounding is introduced. Like that same punch that sent her out is just driving into the side of her temple over, and over, and over again. It needs ice. Or a stiff drink. Or both.

And maybe a kiss. If she’s lucky.

“Okay, if you’re sure…” he backs off, watching silently as Vi claws her way onto ground level between pausing grunts and aches.

***

“Missed you out there,” is all she says. Bitterly. As if she has any right.

“Missed you all night,” you scoff. Arms folded. Scowling. Ugh, she mentally weeps, there will be no coddling or cooing from you tonight then…

“You knew I was working…” she grumbles, sliding a frozen wad of medical wrap bound in common cloth against the surely discolored lump in her head, “Not everyone can get a gig at Babette’s.”

“Oh, as if you’d even want it,” you roll your eyes, so much disdain it makes her want to suck the venom straight out of your tongue, “You don’t listen to me, how could you listen to the clientele at a brothel?”

“I’m sure it’s easy stuff, baby,” she seethes, sucking her teeth obnoxiously as if to punctuate some joke you’re not in on, “Get on your back, look pretty, be sweet: you’ve got all that down already.”

Vi is perpetually on this edge, and you hate it more than your propriety lets you describe, one step in either direction away from fighting or playing. Somehow completely serious while just teasing. She’s hard and soft, protector and predator, ugly and cute. On nights like these, where she’s one half stronger than the other, you wonder if there’s anything of substance here.

Chemistry is great, but do you two have anything to actually cook with?

Would this have worked out if you were two years younger and her one older? Would this have worked out if you two grew up topside? Would this have worked out if you knew her back in prison?

Suddenly there’s two rough fingertips prodding the middle of your forehead. A single jab before wisping down the apple of your cheek, cradling your jawline and propping your face up to look Vi in the eyes.

“You’re thinking nasty thoughts,” she doesn’t bother wondering aloud how you’re feeling anymore, not when she can read it like black ink.

“Why would you keep buying bottles after I told you it’d ruin the night?”

Vi shrugs and crouches to be the one looking up at you now. Clasping her hands around yours in your lap -ice pack clattering onto the floor, “I don’t know, but whatever you’re thinking is way too malicious for it to be real.”

“It felt like you just wanted to upset me.”

“See?” she tilts her head, “Way too malicious.”

“But that’s how it feels,” you have half a mind to just shove her hands off, “You can’t tell me to not feel a certain way just because you think it’s out of character.”

“Well, I’m telling you I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just wanted to get drunk.”

“I think you ‘just want to get drunk’ a bit too much.”

“You’ve told me.”

“And you don’t care!”

“I care, I just- “ she has to stop herself with a sigh, “I’m a grown woman, I can get drunk if I want.”

“You always lose when you drink before matches…”

Vi slinks back, retrieving the ice pack as she goes. Replacing the cooling device on her temple before you stand and snatch it from her.

Vi’s mouth opens, an upset rattle on the tip of her tongue before you slip it back onto her head. Now in a much better spot, the washing soothing sensation making her subconsciously unwind those tense shoulders.

“Good?” you ask quietly.

She hums, eyes fluttering shut, not risking another painful nod.

“This is why I don’t want you drinking before matches…”

“Okay, baby,” wrapped hands come up to curve around your hips, thumbs venturing up to massage beneath your ribs. Squeezing in what you could call affection or frustration, “Let’s not fight about it anymore.”

“Fine, but- !”

Again, she squeezes. Now pulling you closer with the pinch. Her lips pucker obnoxiously, and when you don’t immediately fold she just makes the loudest ‘mwah, mwah, mwah’s until you cannot ignore her. Leaning forward enough to chastely peck her lips is all the reward you allow.

Her pleased little smile follows. Lips still red beneath black lipstick, long since faded against the rim of a glass. A scar swollen over the left side of her cupid’s bow -- that whole side of her face seems slightly raised over the other. In the most insane way, it makes your cheeks hot.

Vi is hard and soft. Rugged and pretty. Round puppy eyes and long lashes and thick eyebrows and shaggy hair and scars. Muscles and lithe fingers and tits pressed against yours.

…was that intentional?

“You weren’t wearing this little number earlier, baby,” Vi finally noticed too, you guess.

“I was just about to go to bed when you finally came home,” shrugging so casually, as if the lacey nightgown didn’t let her see straight down your cleavage.

“Uh-huhhhh,” her right hand snakes downward, toward the bottom hem a little below your pelvis. Her left knocks the ice pack from your grasp before she thunks her forehead to yours. Blunt nails barely skimming your thigh as she grasps the flimsy material, “And let me guess: you were just about to go to bed camo, right?”

Her breath heavies just as yours does, your heated face tucking into her neck as your hands find their way up the back of her jacket.

“Bet there’s nothing under here,” she whispers, dragging up your thin dress until it’s bunched at your navel, “Yeah. ‘About to go to bed’, my ass.”

Pushing thighs against each other in dramatic shame, you whine into Vi’s pulse, “Don’t tease me! I’m just lonely here when you go off out there…”

Vi snorts in your ear and drops to her knees; headache entirely forgotten as blood pumps through her whole body. Jittery hands shock up your thighs, one still cinched around the material of your dress while the other forces you to spread your legs.

“Then let me make up for tonight,” she says it overly saccharine, in that special tone she has that you know means she’s about to say something snarky, “Will you stop biting my head off if I just let you fuck my face?”

“Ugh-!” your aggravated trill is snapped in half because Vi is diving between your thighs.

In a way this is sentimental enough to make up for her -yet again- completely disregarding your opinion, after all the gesture is kind of how you fell in love. When she came into Babette’s with the single request to make ”the toughest girl you got fucking cry”. After that, she kept coming back with your name in her drooling mouth, and hers soon roaring out of yours.

Shaking a hand into her tarred hair, you yank for purchase as she suckles your clit. A pleased sigh fans from her nose just as a cute little hum vibrates from her; plump lips popping off long enough for her to wetly spear her tongue inside you. Warm and sloppy and she fucking loves it. Already nuzzling your lonely clit with a thumb just for you to drip and clench on her.

Words are a waste when she can just make you cum to see that she’s really, super, very sorry.

It’s not like you listen to her either, anyway.

#vi x reader #vi arcane smut #vi x fem reader #arcane x reader

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unclewaynemunson · 2 years ago

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Steve believes he was meant to stay in Hawkins forever. College should've been his ticket out and it wasn't. And now, he can't really picture himself going anywhere else anymore. It's his home, even if everyone else keeps leaving. It starts with Robin and Nancy, both off to college in the summer of '86. Then the younger kids follow, three years later, all destined for great things and big nerdy science careers. And Steve knows for a fact that Eddie will leave, too, sooner rather than later. All the desolated rooms in his parents’ big house will become even emptier than before, now that they’re marked with the memories of how they were once filled with laughter and good company.

So yeah, when Eddie announces on his 25th birthday that he can't stay with his uncle forever and that he's been saving up to get his own place in Indianapolis, it doesn't come as a surprise for Steve.

'I wanna ask you something, but you can say no,' Eddie continues. He sounds oddly earnest. They're sitting on the porch of the trailer, cross-legged opposite of each other. 'Do you wanna come with me?'

'Come with you - as in, move to - to Indy?' Steve stammers, thinking he either misheard or misunderstood what Eddie was saying.

But Eddie nods.

'What would I be doing in Indy?'

Eddie shrugs. 'I dunno. Maybe Family Video can relocate you. Or you could, like, reinvent yourself.' He hesitates, then continues, 'I mean, what's left for you in Hawkins, really? I know you wanted to stay here as long as the kids were still around, but now... What's keeping you here?'

He's right, of course. To Steve, Hawkins has become just as empty as those rooms in his parents' house.

Eddie leans closer towards Steve. 'Wanna know a secret?' he asks, his eyes wide and almost glowing in the light of the setting sun. 'I was planning on leaving years ago. But I didn't wanna go without you.'

Steve’s heart skips a beat; he doesn’t know what to say.

'Indy's only two hours away, man,’ he blurts out after a few seconds of silence.

'One hour, if you drive like me.' Eddie shrugs, a smile on his face - but the look in his eyes is anything but casual as he continues to say, 'Still one hour too far away from you.'

Steve can't stop the most enormous smile from appearing on his face at those words. He stretches out his hand, gently touches the skin of Eddie's knee that's poking through the tear in his black jeans.

'Alright, I'll come with you,' he says. 'Wouldn't want you to miss me that much, that'd be cruel.'

Eddie snickers, slowly shakes his head while dodging Steve’s gaze. 'Whatever you say, big boy,’ he says. ‘Are you sure?'

Steve nods. ‘Yeah.’ He doesn’t even really have to think about it; it simply feels right, somewhere deep down in his gut. ‘I’m sure. I wanna come with you.’

A couple of months later, they’re both ready to relocate. Steve soon finds out that the city means freedom, anonymity, new people, new goals in life; a fresh start in every single way. It also means growing closer to Eddie in a whole new way, something which feels brand new and familiar all at once. Steve can’t get enough of it, and he knows for a fact that he always wants to be wherever Eddie is.

After Robin graduates, she makes Indianapolis her new home as well, and it doesn't take long before Nancy joins them there. Even some of the younger kids find their way to the city a few years later.

Indianapolis fits Steve and Eddie perfectly, from the adventurous years in the city center to the quieter times after they reach thirty and get a family of their own to raise in the greener outskirts of town. And after all that time, Steve finally learns that home doesn't depend on where your memories are - it's the place where you're making new ones.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #angst? i don't know her #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fruity ficlet

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decentishoutsidersthoughts · 5 months ago

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I’ve been at a family gathering all day so here are some hcs for a Curtis family gathering

Darry

As the eldest grandchild he was somewhat treated like an adult even before his parents died. But it balanced out by the fact that the entire family worshipped him just for existing. He’s his grandma’s favorite and she makes it VERY obvious.

After his parents died he completely stopped being seen as one of the kids/grandkids. He started helping at the grill and chatting with the other adults. It wasn’t the worst thing over because he was outgrowing a lot of the kids anyways, but it was still SO disorienting for him the first couple times.

Every so often he’ll say something and the whole family will be forced to remember he’s still barely an adult. And then they’ll have to ponder that for a moment and it kinda kills the mood

One time he was offered a beer and reminded everyone he was underage. That one fucked with them for a while.

All the kids beg Darry to pick them up, carry them around, all that stuff. And he definitely does it every time. They get so pissed when he says he’s tired and stops. Like demon screeching ‘NO’

The big thing Darry doesn’t like about the gatherings is that everyone is trying SO hard to avoid mention anything about the Curtis parent’s deaths. To the point that it’s painfully obvious and very uncomfortable for Darry.

There’s this one asshole uncle and one time he started insulting Soda’s intelligence in front of Darry (Soda was outside) and the two almost fought. The uncle got kicked out after that

He makes an absolutely amazing burger (he learned from his dad)

Sodapop

The poor boy isn’t really anyone’s favorite. They all like him but don’t take as much pride in him as his brothers, he’s really overlooked.

The exception to this is uncle on his dad’s side, he sees himself a lot in Soda and dotes on him. They’re super close and the uncle always slips him five dollars to buy himself something nice

The younger kids definitely absolutely adore them. He loves just roughhousing with them and chasing them around the yard. Most of them call him their favorite cousin and it goes straight to his ego.

One of the kids hurts inevitably themselves and cries every time. Soda always will bundle them into his arms and clean them up before he can get in trouble lol. Most of the time only Ponyboy finds out and my boy isn’t a snitch.

One of the kids just goes home with a big scrape and their parents are like ‘where did this come from-‘ but nobody has put two and two together yet

At the first gathering after their parents died he broke down sobbing halfway through. Darry found him crying in their moms old bedroom. They went home after that and it turns out they all had wanted to leave.

For extra spice, the reason he started crying is because a lot of those kids weren’t old enough to understand the concept of death and kept asking him where their aunt and uncle were

Him and Ponyboy will have heavy gossip sessions in their room once they get home. Darry knows about them and will sometimes join if the tea is really hot.

Ponyboy

He’s their pride and joy. He’s so insanely spoiled and gets basically whatever he wants. Once it became clear college wasn’t happening for Darry everybody was all over him.

Being a fourteen year old he does NOT enjoy these gatherings. He usually just either sits in the corner with a book or hangs out with the only other cousin his age.

He sometimes likes watching Soda play with the kids because of how happy he looks. However he himself avoids those kids at all costs.

Back to the gossip sessions, Ponyboy ends up with so much knowledge because everyone assumes he isn’t listening or forgets he’s there. This dude knows everything.

He finds their doting so annoying and is like ‘leave me alone’ (he grows out of this ofc, 14 year olds just kinda suck lol)

When he gets older he joins the adults a lot, still not a fan of the kids

#the outsiders #the outsiders au #kind of #the outsiders hcs #the outsiders headcanons #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis

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ruershrimo · 8 months ago

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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 7: conversation

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

' “I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy," she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn't even blink.

“I’m not.” You are. '

---

Megumi calls you back. You leave for Tokyo again, like a soul yearning for its body.

word count: ~6k; tws: none for now :)!!

19-6-2018

“So you’re really going to let go of them now?” your father asks.

“...yeah.”

“That’s good. I’ll miss that Itadori boy, though.”

You will, too.

In a way you suppose Megumi and Yuuji are very similar. They’d go well together, be good, fast friends and all that.

They’re both undoubtedly good people, no matter how they’ve beat people up before and how different their beliefs may be.

In Megumi’s case, everyone knew how good a person Tsumiki was, her younger brother included. Her kindness and virtue extended itself, inspiring other people around her. But Megumi was a good person, too— polite, patient (most of the time, unless it were Gojo— but who wouldn’t be annoyed by that man, right?), kind in his own way. He cared for you in all sorts of ways in the past, even then you could tell, gentle with animals and objects and your hand. Gentle in his own way. Giving you reminders despite the tiny calumniations sprinkled in (they barely do as much damage as comb bristles can), being sharp because he must have had to, kind because it was in his very nature. Easy on the eyes, tall, deep soothing voice— he ticked all the boxes for that, too. You bet that if things were different, and the two of you had stayed in touch with each other, you’d have fallen deeply in love with it by now. Yet that thought only makes you feel sour now that things hadn’t gone that way at all.

And Yuuji, too— there was no explanation needed for Yuuji. Even Megumi could tell he was a good person. And at some times he was almost like Tsumiki. You weren’t ever surprised that you’d caught feelings for him, because— who wouldn’t? He was always popular, even if he was ignorant of his own charm around others. But he wasn’t just a good guy with a ripped torso, he was honest, perceptive and smart in conversations. Smarter than he ever credited himself for. Smart in a way you could never be— people with cute faces, nice bodies and good social skills were in a league of their own, practically. You’d thought that for a long time.

Did either of them ever know how you felt?

Probably not. Your heart was guarded, intensely so, and you’d never lay your feelings bare and out so easily. You weren’t the type of person to say you loved people as easily as others did, even within your own family.

This, you presume, is probably an acquired trait, now that you think about it. You were much more different as a child, free with praise and love and unabashed affection as well as appreciation for the people around you. What changed?

(Everything.)

You miss 2010. You miss Tsumiki the way you miss your mother’s cooking, miss her the way you miss when you wrote emails and letters and text messages to her with multi-coloured pens or your old phone that eventually broke a year after. You miss the conversations the two of you had, miss how you used to be your parents’ little angel.

And in the end it all comes back to that, doesn’t it? 2010. Nostalgia. Reminiscing on old memories in a way akin to how the elderly do in their youth. That just made you seem more pathetic, because, weren’t you supposed to be making those memories right now, at this time of your life?

You’re a teenager. You should be going out with friends, and having fun, not rotting at home ruminating on the past, with the only friends you’ve ever had hundreds of kilometres away from you (you weren’t sure if you could even call one of them a ‘friend’ anymore), and your acquaintances not close enough to replace them (how could they ever? How could there ever be a replacement for Yuuji?)

In a way you feel your life is miserable: awkward, socially-impaired teenage girl with her only friend practically out of her life at this point; nothing special to your name besides a cursed technique that most times does you more harm than good; stuck not being able to completely get over friends she met at eight who left her as quickly as someone can blink their eyes; with the thinking process of a nagging, stubborn mother sometimes, or if not that then a blurry, mingled train of thought that gets delayed or lost when moving from station to station; someone not of use at all. Not miserable, you think to yourself like a slap to the face, pathetic.

You’re not sure how Tsumiki is now— maybe she has a partner, or better friends than you were, or she’s busy being president of the student council or something (she’d be a sterling leader, of that you’re certain, that girl who you’d always known was bound to go places in the span of her lifetime).

Hopefully, she’s alright, and doing the best she can in life. That’s all you wish for when it comes to Tsumiki.

At this point, there’s no point in wishing to join them, or to linger on them and memories of the past. It’s a mosquito in summer heat, which is why, if it stays, you decide, you’ll just suppress and ignore it until it goes away. Even if you didn’t know how long it would take you to get over them— weeks, months, but goodness forbid a whole lifetime or forever— you needed to accept that you’d be like this for nearly the rest of your life: pathetic, lonely— ah, that’s the word that so very perfectly delineates the situation you’re in— and then some.

So that’s why, when you hear your phone buzzing on your bed like a cicada during a balmy night, you assume it’s someone else. Yuuji must be busy settling in (he’s been texting you, and you took that as a sign that he wouldn’t call), and Megumi must be… —Well. Megumi has made a promise, and it’s not that you don’t believe in him, but it would be better to expect less than what you’d like to in order to evade disappointment.

Must be someone else. A prank call, or a scammer, or something. Or a telemarketer, but you’d be surprised if telemarketers were calling you and not your father. And you were never one to pick calls up mindlessly anyway, so if it were some stranger out to get you or swindle you, you’d just hang up or check the number.

If not either a scam or a telemarketer (well you suppose both of those could be scams in certain contexts), though, then you’d suspect it would be either Yuuji (Yuuji’s the one who has been texting you, after all, conversations strewn over checking in with the other over the past few hours or snippets of advice from you telling him not to bother Megumi very much, and to be cautious and keep himself safe) or Gojo— definitely not Megumi, and probably not Gojo either, but still it was more likely that Gojo was calling you instead of Megumi, so you’re considering it— and you can’t really remember Gojo’s number anyway, so what if an unknown number wasn’t a prank call or something—

You wonder if you should just pick it up instead of burying your head in your study notes and overthinking everything.

But you know it’s definitely not Megumi.

You check the phone.

Well, you’ll be damned.

It’s Fushiguro Megumi.

You know his number by heart, after all. Keyed it in too many times to forget, and it’s not like he’d have any reason to change it. Not with the way he cares for things, inanimate objects, not with the tenderly quiet, secretly caring, emotionally jaded way he maintains them.

“Ah… hello?”

Your heart thumps in your chest and heat flares up in your cheeks with a frenetic speed.

“Hi,” you blurt out, shakily. You’re sure your voice is quivering, yet your mind feels like it’s barely functioning, almost about to drown in a seven-feet-deep pool, so you can’t really tell. You can’t really hear yourself.

You don’t know why you feel like this— no, you know exactly why, actually. It’s because you haven’t gotten over him. Your thoughts are scrambled but you know, for sure, that you’re like this because you want to get rid of feelings like these but you can’t. Or because you’ve been saying that to yourself like a mantra, for so long, even though a part of you wants it to stay— out of what, that’s what you don’t know; maybe desperation or nostalgia or an inability to stop dwelling on days long gone. But you know what this is— you’ve seen the movies, read the manga, watched the dramas. It’s romance. Crushes. Something you’re not quite able to call love yet, something you’re too scared to properly name, still, but something you can understand is one-sided nonetheless.

“…hi. [Name].”

“Hello…”

What happens when two estranged childhood friends with a book’s worth of history behind their relationship that happen to be socially awkward teenagers actually have a conversation semi-beyond what keeps them estranged in the first place?

“Hi— no, wait… how are you?”

Pot, meet kettle, because you’re going off nothing but the fact that you’re at the very least surprised (the other emotions are too complicated to explain) that he’s speaking to you again, and not just on text, but he’s calling, and he sounds like he’s reading off a script, but the script is in a whole other language, somehow, and the uncertain nervousness in his voice is tangible, even for a deep, low voice like his.

Script or not, you appreciate the effort, though.

“I’m good, um… I’m happy you were able to call. It’s been a long time.”

“That’s good.”

There’s silence on the other line; time feels like it’s moving achingly slowly. But you’re mildly happy.

Not happy, maybe, but you definitely feel light, as if you’ve been severed from the heaviness of everything else that has happened lately. This is the first time in years something like this has ever happened.

“Ah, wait, I forgot to ask! Sorry, um.. how are you?”

“I’m doing alright, too. Oh, wait, I should apologise. I didn’t tell you— thanks for helping with my injuries the other day. Gojo told me about it after you left. You… you didn’t have to, though. You shouldn’t have risked your health like that.”

You shake your head. “Don’t mention it. You know why I do this, anyway.” Out of necessity or a need to be useful, you’re not even sure yourself, but he must know, to some degree, right? It seems as if he’d be the one to know the most of this, of you— at least, when matters came to this. “And I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Dr Ieiri probably ended up helping more with the bigger ones once the three of you got back. I mean, she did, right?”

“…no. She said that she didn’t want to waste her time, so if injuries were more minor like mine, she wouldn’t heal them fully.”

“...ah.” More minor? Seriously, doctor? You’d normally not question her judgement over matters that she had more expertise in dealing with, but seriously?

“I’ll be fine, though. Most of the bandages have come off, and all.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You wonder where he is now, on the bed, maybe, or sitting on the floor. You’ve seen the classrooms, but not the dormitories— you hope wherever he is, that it’s comfortable. That he’s okay.

“We’re going to see a new student soon.”

“Really? Have you met them before?”

“No, but Gojo said she’s from the countryside. But we’re meeting her in Harajuku, for some reason.”

“Oh, Harajuku! I miss it,” you let out a plaintive sigh, “I can’t wait to be back in Tokyo. You know, whatever happens, I still love that city like nothing else. I know how many people hate it, but I love it so much.” And you love it so much in the first place, mostly because of Megumi and Tsumiki. “Maybe she just wants to chase a bit of the sweet city life— I mean, you know how it is when country bumpkins go to the city for the first time… kind of. Or when they love the city— yeah, that’s a better way of saying it. I was like that, kind of.”

“...if you’re worried about the train ride here and want to travel alone, I could always pay for you. Uh… wait—”

“Oh, no, no! There’s no need, uhm— thank you anyway, it’s just—”

“It’s Gojo’s money anyway.”

“Pft,” you snort. Anything to seep out some of Gojo’s money like gluttonous leeches, right? “Nah, I’ll be fine. I mean, I don’t even think I’ll be able to come back in a few years’ time, and by then I won’t even be relying on my parents’ money for this stuff anymore— I mean, I will still be relying on their money, but I’ll be managing it as my own.”

He chuckles lightly over the line, the silent way he shows his emotions, the way that goes unnoticed if one is not attentive to it. It feels like he’s whispering directly into your ear, and the heat on your face (which you weren’t even sure was still there until that point). Your heart skips a beat and it completely, absolutely shocks you. “...the offer still stands.”

Yeah, you can get behind it if he’s like this now. What happened to him, anyway? Puberty hit him like a brick and gave him, like, one more ounce of emotional maturity?

You shake your head like a character in a piece of crappy romance fanfiction. No way. Not now, at least. Calm down.

(...you’re just a girl.)

“Well, no take backs from now on, okay? Even if it’s, like, five years into the future, you’ll still be using Gojo’s credit card to cover for all my travel expenses.”

He does it again, that low, soft, attractive sound. Makes you want to hit him and hit yourself at the same time, and then kick your feet up in the air giddily, and then throttle yourself, if it were possible, out of sheer embarrassment. “Yeah.”

You’re having the time of your life.

“Anyway, how is everything else? Like, are your studies and grades okay? Is the training you do alright to handle?”

“My grades are pretty okay,” he answers, “Not like Gojo cares, honestly. And the training’s fine, it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“Gojo seems like he’d be a good teacher. When he wants to, he can command respect pretty easily, too. I guess he just… chooses not to. But I saw it yesterday, when you and Yuuji were passed out in the hospital.”

It still strikes a pang of guilt in your chest, your inability to have done anything else besides calling Gojo over for help.

“...I suppose he does.”

“Yeah.”

“How about you? Itadori, he… he can be an idiot sometimes, but he speaks of you really admirably. He talks about how smart you are a lot.”

The thought of Megumi calling Yuuji an idiot of all things doesn’t feel like it falls short from him, but it still makes you frown— though, you realise that that’s just his way of expressing things, because in a way he’d treated you somewhat the same in the past, even if he hadn’t shown it outright or expressed it very vividly. Classic Megumi.

“Hey, he’s smarter than people give him credit for, okay? Wait until you see how talented he is at things other than sports and martial arts. You’d be surprised after trying the meatballs he makes. Would be good if you asked him to give you the recipe sometime; I make them, like, once a week, at least.”

He sighs, “...I will. But the point is, he cares for you a lot.”

“Yeah, beautiful soul, that guy. Loves people the way curious children love nature.”

“That would be a fitting way to put it.”

“How are the dogs?”

“My shikigami?”

“Yeah. Do they have names?”

“The black one is Kuro and the white one is Shiro.”

“You named them black and white?”

“Look, I named them when I was barely six years old, and six year olds aren’t exactly the best when it comes to these things…”

You giggle, “So the name stuck?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

Real cute.

“What about your father? How is he?”

“He’s okay, but, well. I guess we’re not that close anymore.”

“...I see.” He probably can’t imagine a version of you who wasn’t immensely close to her parents. You couldn’t then, either.

“We’ve been talking even less now that my mother’s in the hospital, but at least I get to talk to him before he eats, maybe. I’ve been doing most of the cooking now that my mother isn’t here and my father doesn’t really know how to handle himself in our kitchen without her guidance.”

“Oh… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your mother?”

“Cancer.”

You can practically hear the gulp he’s taking, the bobbing of his throat— sensitive topic. “I’m… so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay, don’t be,” you reassure him, “I should have told you that day anyway. I was just… exploding at everybody on that night. I should apologise— I’m sorry for how badly I treated you.”

“No,” he goes, “No, you shouldn’t. I understand why you were like that that night. And it was mostly my fault, too, so…”

“No, no, I’m serious! Feel free to ask almost anything as long as I have actual answers to your questions and all.”

“Still… I just wanted to know. Sorry if I caused you any trouble.”

“No— you didn’t do any of that at all, don’t worry! I’m alright with people asking about this. Ah, anyway… besides Yuuji, do you have any friends?”

“Itadori and I aren’t friends.”

“Trust me, if I asked him, I bet he’d beg to differ. Yuuji’s like that with people— soon he’ll be more important to you than you could have ever thought at first.”

“Whatever you say,” he sort of grunts, “But I don’t have any friends, I think… except you, maybe. What about you?”

You were honestly expecting him not to consider you a friend at all, and at this point so much has happened that wouldn’t even be that bothered if he no longer thought of you as one but called you anyway out of his commitment to his promises, or as an apology.

“I’m surprised you can still call me a friend,” you say. Calling people instead of talking to them physically does something to your inhibitions.

“...should I not?”

“No, no, I’m happy,” you say over the phone. You’ll forget this conversation tomorrow, at least, when the sun has risen and the night returns back the hold you have over yourself, your composure, to you. You’ll act like this never happened. So you’ll say whatever you want to now, disgorging yourself of years of withheld secrets. “I’m happy that we’re still friends. I think I like that.

“Yeah?”

“Um— yeah, it seems like a good place to start,” you grin slightly. “And I, well. I don’t really have any friends beyond Yuuji,” —You’re not even sure if Tsumiki still sees you as a friend— “Even if I may have acquaintances like Sasaki or Iguchi it still feels like Yuuji’s one of the only people I can give that kind of title to, so, um… the more the merrier?”

“That’s… nice.”

“...it is, isn’t it?”

“Thank you.”

Why? “Okay.”

The two of you go through the next few seconds in silence, time feeling like it’s blending and bleeding into a mix of years and events. You can hear the light, steady sound of his breathing from the other line. If you could, you’d sleep to it— fuck the phone bill, you’ll be the one paying it in your father’s stead this time if it was for this.

It’s comforting, and you don’t want to break it— the quiet. If he can hear you now, can hear how you’re breathing through a smile with your chest only slightly moving, you hope it feels the same as the sound of his breathing did for you. You hope it feels just like home. Like a warm pillow in the one place you love the most that you bury your head into when the weather gets especially cold.

“Fushiguro!”

Oh dear.

Wincing at the sound of the creaking door’s shrill shriek as it's opened and then hits the wall, you know exactly who it is— you’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“Is that Yuuji?”

“Oi! I told you not to barge into my room like that!” Megumi shouts.

“Huh? You’re calling someone? Sorry. Wait, is it [Name]?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Hi, Yuuji.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“Is it alright if we do, Megumi? Just for a few seconds.”

“Fine,” he sighs. You can practically hear that eye roll.

“Yo!” he cheers.

“Has everything been okay lately?” you ask.

“Yeah. We’re meeting a new student soon.”

“Ah, yeah. Megumi told me.”

“—Oh, and my uniform came in! It looks pretty neat.”

“That’s good. Maybe you can send me a picture once you start wearing it, then.”

“I will!”

Things are going better than you thought they would.

21-6-2018

It’s been a few days now.

You don’t know Sasaki and Iguchi well enough to call them friends, but the three of you do know each other. You had never decided to change any contacts with them, and considering that they and you were never closer than acquaintances, friends of a friend— you had never really regretted it. But now that Yuuji is gone— and you know he’s not dead, but still— you wonder whether you should have gotten closer to them, just to be less alone once Yuuji left, even if it could not be the way things were with Yuuji. (“I thought I was a pretty lonely guy, and sometimes I still do. Like— I mean, you’re a lonely girl too sometimes, I think,” he had told you as you patched him up.)

Still, Yuuji and you were two peas in a pod— so they’re bound to ask what happened to him soon enough, especially Iguchi.

You’ll have to start getting used to spending your Thursdays alone. And then you’d have to start getting used to every other day without him, too. If you went to the arcade or watched movies or sing-screamed the lyrics to English songs you don’t know the Japanese translations of without his presence there, you know how it wouldn’t feel the same. In life it’s not what you do that matters, you’ve come to realise— it’s who you’re doing these things with. That’s what puts meaning to it all and makes all things done in your life worthwhile.

The two of them pass you by during lunch.

“[Last Name]? —Oh, hey!” Sasaki says as she turns around.

You almost scream and run away like a mouse fleeing from the eyes of a vicious house cat, tremors in your voice. “Hello…”

“Where’s Yuuji, by the way? The occult club’s going to fall apart without him.”

You pause. “He transferred to another school…”

“Huh?” she goes, Iguchi almost reeling back in shock. “Transferred? But why? We’ve barely even made it to the middle of the year!”

“I… I don’t know, it was something really urgent,”

23-6-2018

Your room is a cluttered mess— lucky as you are that it’s the weekend, the past week has been a rollercoaster that knocked your room’s usual standard of cleanliness off track. Scattered all over your desk were worksheets, notebooks, graph paper pages and foolscap paper, chicken-scratch writing and meticulous notes scribbled all over them to compensate for your absence the day after the incident took place.

It isn’t the time or the discipline you lack— it’s just that it’s going to be awfully tedious. You’ll have to wipe your desk again, and clean the walls, and sort through all your clothes, too, since you haven’t been folding them in any way that isn’t merely fastidious and nearly careless. So as you get to work, you suppose that calling someone wouldn’t hurt.

Maybe you could call Megumi. That would be okay.

For the past few years, you’ve never noticed it. So when you do, it hits you like a bullet train at the fastest of speeds.

You miss him. Not just in the way you miss 2010, the way you miss the past, the way you miss and mourn the person you used to be. It had been so obvious for Tsumiki, but not for him, and now that you know this it’ll be another quiet revelation— another rediscovery of fragments of yourself concealed by memories.

You miss him— all of him; you yearned to be his friend again because he was unlike Tsumiki who you knew cherished you as you did her; you miss him regardless of who he is now, because somewhere inside him is the boy who read dog books and brought you to the school library and ran your finger through water when you burned it. Somewhere inside him is the person who offered to hold your bag as he walked with you through a snowy garden, and helped you when your nose bled.

So it would be okay to call Megumi right now.

“Fushiguro speaking.”

“Hi, Megumi. Are you busy?”

“Not right now.”

“Want to call?”

“Fushiguro!” It’s Yuuji. “Wanna go—”

“I said I’m not going!”

You chuckle, “Be nice. Were the two of you supposed to go somewhere?”

“Nothing important. Gojo said he wanted us to ‘bond’ with each other, so he concluded that we could watch a movie. Some kind of gory horror film or something.”

He’s… actually making an obvious effort not to scold Yuuji that much or call him some insulting, derogatory term this time… wow.

“Ah, yeah. Yuuji likes his horror movies.”

“Anyway, anything urgent you wanted to tell me?”

“No, I’m just… uh—” you laugh nervously, “I’m just a little bored.” Nowadays you’re not really sure what he’d do— scold you, maybe, or roll his eyes so hard that you can hear it over the line, or he may even flash into a quick bit of awkwardness and hesitation through his words.

Or maybe— and this was the worst of it all, he’d ask why you were calling him, and his bouts of awkwardness would have only been something temporary, soon to be replaced once again by anger and annoyance, the same he gives to everyone else— even if you knew he didn’t always mean it, per se. No more special treatment for you.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, uh… I have to clean, and usually it’s not as much as what I have to do today, so I just thought that since the only other person in the house is my father and we don’t really talk much anymore, we could, um… chat for a while. Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Uh-huh, so.” You stand up, leaving your phone on your desk and putting the call on speaker mode. The mountain of papers and books is a wasteland and your desk has been degraded to a landfill— the state of it would make your mother a wailing mess— no, she’d faint instantly as soon as she saw it, becoming worse of a mess than the table itself was. “Anything interesting happened lately?”

“Not really.”

“Oh—! Yuuji sent me a picture of his uniform the other day. Was that one special?”

“Yeah. But they let students make adjustments to the uniform, and he said he hadn’t changed anything, so I think that was Gojo’s doing.”

“Oh, well, that’s Gojo. It suits him, though, right? Not to sound mean or be presumptuous, but…” you chuckle, “When you wear the uniform, you look so formal. It’s not a bad thing— it’s just that Yuuji’s just always been more casual like that. And the red of the hoodie goes with his hair, too!”

“I guess so.”

“I can’t imagine you wearing anything other than the default uniform, though. Not to insult you, I mean, you still look good in the normal uniform, I just— can’t imagine it.” You remark, sorting the materials and books by size and subject. You’ve got to handle some of the drawers, too, now that you’ve started and can’t stop your momentum just yet. You can already feel the dust particles that have gathered on whatever is inside them still, jostling around once you’ve taken them out.

“If you’re going to say it like that, you can just say it outright.”

“No, no! I mean that I just can’t imagine you wearing, like, Yuuji’s uniform. Wait, what do the other students’ uniforms look like?”

“The second years?”

“Yeah. Did they choose the normal ones?”

“Inumaki did. They have three boys and one girl, but only two of the boys wear the normal uniform. Okkotsu has a special uniform in white.”

“Oh, I see,” you nod your head, “It’s a nice uniform, though. I wish I could wear a uniform that pretty.”

“You could always enrol yourself here,” he suggests, “They’d welcome you with open arms.”

“Maybe they will,” you chuckle, “But my mother would be adamant on me staying in the ‘normal’ world. She’s unyielding like that.”

“And your father?”

“Wouldn’t mind, at least I don’t think…” you say, “I’ll have to wonder when to tell him if I do end up in jujutsu high; you never know when he’s mad. He’s always unpredictable like that nowadays and it’s not… particularly pleasant.”

“I see. It would be good if you were here, though. You would be closer to Dr Ieiri that way. And it would do good, because, um… well, I’d like you here. You’d be… good for the people around you here.”

“Ah, you— you would?” you ask, slightly phased— not like he hasn’t been a bit nicer to you since you’ve seen him again (maybe it was the awkwardness, maybe it was the guilt). “Thank you,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging up sheepishly, heading to the dusty drawer (you haven’t touched it in what feels like years, usually excluding it from your list of things to clean).

After a scrupulous amount of wiping away at the dust outside of and surrounding it, you open the drawer with a slight bit of anticipation— you don’t expect much, but you’re a person who lingers on the past like a ghost that has forgotten how time has passed. There wouldn’t be much in this drawer to reminisce on, you presume, but you still approach it with an eager fascination— you’re the type to do so, after all.

Of everything there, the most noteworthy are two things you grabbed almost immediately— you could never forget how they felt, and the weight that they held in your life back then: a letter, addressed but never delivered to the person you were talking to right now, and a cigarette with a hastily scribbled slew of numbers on it and a lipstick mark on its end.

Oh, that letter. That letter.

From what you remember, you’ve never rebelled against your parents before. At least, not with anything major— for a long time, you were their good girl, and you never disobeyed them, as much as you wanted to at times. You still are, still stuck with that age-old drive to be useful. (But was there even a point in that anymore? At least, was there one with your parents?). You didn’t picture yourself as any kind of righteous goody-two-shoes, but you definitely weren’t a rebel or a delinquent. You followed their instructions and seldom ever questioned what they told you, and so it had always been subtly implanted in your brain that they would be alright with anything you did or said. Yet the first time you did actually start to question them, you realised that their belief in your ‘obedience’ as pure love— and maybe it was; you loved them so much you were blinded and trusted them with everything and did anything they wanted their baby to do— you realised they only treated you so lovingly if you were not an actual person with your own ideals and beliefs.

(But they still loved you, right?)

Even now, you still do obey them and listen to them. If your father needed anything, he could consider it done; if your mother wanted her clothes to be patched up you’d try your utmost best to withstand the pricking of needles and bring it back to her hospital room with bandaged fingers. It was like that with your mother: even if at times it seemed like the only pain she wanted for you was callouses from a pen or pricks from needles, at other times you feel she could have known you’d end up like her, maybe. Maybe she saw it as a curse: the worlds the two of you were born in were different, and she wanted you to stay in yours, lest you die or live in a world of endless pain.

You’ve been doing it for a long time: being dismissive of yourself, prone to self-prostration, subservient; the lovingness of a mother, the sweetness of a teenage girl (you hoped), the kindness of a caring friend. Maybe it was Tsumiki— maybe it was because you’d always seen this in Tsumiki. She was always smiling, always caring; taking on the weight of motherhood before she could carry the weight of her school bag. Hugging you with her saccharine smile; braiding her hair with gentle hands and holding your wrist with her hair tie on it even gentler. (You still have it with you. You had planned to start taking it off more once Yuuji left, but you suppose some habits take longer than a week to develop.) All while having that sickening, fantastical, mysterious sweetness of a teenage girl in what you now understand could have been a hidden misery— because caring for someone like a mother while suppressing the thoughts that spoke to you to act like a child was something you wanted to replicate until you realised you understood it. And then you no longer wanted to recreate it. (Maybe that was the way it was for every woman or girl you knew: watching someone you loved hurt themself or not being able to do anything to prevent it when they started. Life was a cycle that way. A very annoying, frustrating one full of unfortunate circumstances and wrongly-picked out decks of cards.)

“…you know what? I think I may be able to come,” you tell him.

“You don’t have to go against your father for our sake.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I think I know who to ask for help. Thank you, Megumi.”

“Hi, Dr Ieiri?”

“Kid? That you?” she goes, the slightest bit of excitement stark against her usual deadpan tone. “I thought you’d never call because of that old man.”

“Haha, yeah— sorry to disturb you, but, um, Dr Ieiri? I may want to take you up on that offer, by the way, but um, I’m still on the fence. I mean, I know I want to be like you and do what you do but… I don’t know, I’m not quite sure about leaving the two of them alone here and all. But anyway, I just called you because I wanted to ask if there was, you know, any way you could get me to Tokyo somehow. I need to pass something to someone, but, um… I guess I’m going with this with the hope that I’ll change my mind and join you. But I’m… perpetually on the fence for now, I guess.”

“Pft,” she snorts, “You little rebel, I’m in. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you so much.”

24-6-2018

The decision and the plan were made as swiftly as you could.

You decide to tell your father— you wouldn’t want to deceive him, after all. At least, you’d give him a quick notice. And then you’d leave. Like a snowflake before the first day of spring. He’ll probably tell your mother.

“I’m leaving for Tokyo for a while,” you say, “I’ll be back before you can even realise I’m gone. Invitation from Dr Ieiri.”

25-6-2018

“Why?” your father asks, the night before you leave. He suggested going out together at least once before you left. He always knew when you were making white lies.

“I guess that maybe I’m just too much like you, Daddy.”

For the first time in years he hugs you on the doorstep, patting you on the back on the day you’re set to leave. “Make sure you study and work hard,” he reminds you.

“I’m leaving for Tokyo,” you announce.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy,” she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t even blink.

“I’m not.” You are.

“You know, your father travelled all over the country to see me again after we’d first met.”

“Oh. Okay?”

“And he’s always been dedicated to his job and dedicated to helping people.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m saying that the two of you are very similar. I’ve lived through this story before,” she states, “And you look just like your father right now.” your mother says. She hasn’t smiled the way she used to— you remember it vividly, that vibrant gleam in her, the liveliest and loveliest of life— in ages and you don’t think she will, not now of all times.

“Really? Sometimes he says I take after you more.”

“You will.”

It doesn’t feel like a curse. Even if it usually would make your heart well up in guilt, it doesn’t feel like a curse.

Maybe she knows that her time is running out. Maybe this is resignation. Whatever it is, you hold her hand first, but you’re also the first one to let the other go, your fingers slipping away from hers. You leave the door for the last time in a while, making another round in your life of that carousel of abandonment and reuniting and departures.

25-6-2018

Dr Ieiri greets you with a calm smile on her pallid face.

“Good to see you again.”

“It’s good to be back here,” you sigh.

It is.

You keep your hand on your other hand’s wrist, holding them in front of you. The cherry hair tie on it feels warm against your skin as you exit the station, summer heat embracing it softly.

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

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mayonnaise2004 · 1 month ago

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Meeting and dating Michael Emerson

(I hate my old Michael head-cannons.. the way they were written just make me want to throw up. So I made a new set with new headcannons and some of the old ones added in ofc❤️🖤)

- You were practically a little sister to the boys, which meant you weren't always allowed out of their sight. Even if you were, one of them was put on babysitting duty in the shadows.

- Today was different. It was a few hours to sundown and you had snuck out. The boys were asleep, they wouldn’t care!

- The concert warming up to the main event was noisy, not your exact cup of tea but a head of brown curls pulled you in. He was new to the murder capital, that was obvious.

- As you tried to pay attention to the band everyone was jamming out to, Michael was staring at you from the crowd.

- He hadn’t seen someone like you before in Phoenix. The girls down there had an overly confident aura to them. You seemed more down to earth and chill for now of course.

- It took some pathetic excuse for him to talk to you. Whether that be paying for a drink, or ‘accidentally’ bumping into you. Either way, you two struck up a conversation.

- Sam eventually dragged Michael off the boardwalk, you decided to leave too since the sun was officially setting and the boys would be awake soon.

- The departure left you with a pounding heart, and Michael with a love-struck grin. He would never forget tonight.

- The return to the cave almost made you cry, the boys were already awake and waiting for you. The look on David’s face made you realize you were in shit.

- David was sitting quietly in his makeshift wheelchair throne, watching as Paul and Marko kept asking whose cologne they smelt on you.

- Dwayne shot the two a glare and spoke up for the first time in that lecture. ‘(Name)’s fine. They’re old enough to go out without any of you dickwads watching’.

- Well turns out whatever Dwayne says is true. Because the argument ended as quickly as it started.

- Over the next few weeks, you went out just before the boys fed to talk to Michael, who happily enjoyed the conversation.

- he didn’t even ask you out, It was Sam who blurted out how much his older brother liked you while Michael went to get his wallet.

- Once he returned, You questioned Michael about what Sam had meant. (While glaring harshly at his younger brother.) Michael profusely apologized, in which you cut him off with a ‘7:30 tomorrow night. Better make my first date memorable Michael.’ And walked away.

- Needless to say, Sam officially became Michaels ‘wingman’ for the week.

- Michael is.. odd. He’s an ambivert so date nights vary. One time it’s a concert, the next it’s lying tangled up on his bed and talking.

- Lucy loves you. Considering the fact most ‘dinner dates’ are eating the food she insists on cooking, She knows what you like and what you don’t.

- Riding on the back of his bike

- Wearing each others jewellery.

- It takes a while for the boys to kinda warm up to him. Dwayne will talk to him, Marko and Paul only talk to him if they are brought up in a conversation at the start, and David is a bit distant.

- going swimming in the ocean

- beach dates

- if you ever sleep in the same bed over the summer, turn a fan on and sleep practically naked because Michael is a FURNACE.

- he’s got a box under his bed for items from dates, or just things you give him. (Little gems, boardwalk prizes, food receipts, jewellery you think you ‘lost’)

- Either way, Michael's relationship with you will continue through your teenage years. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be official one day. <3

#the lostboys 1987 #80s #dwayne tlb #marko tlb #paul tlb #david tlb #the lost boys #tlb x reader #80s fanfics #michael emerson #micheal emerson x reader #tlb headcanons #tlb 1987 #michael tlb

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avatarkv · 2 years ago

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(My heart is,) squeeze it apart, it’s fine.

✎ Synopsis ! The clan could sense Ao’nung’s brooding figure from a mile away, more hostile than ever. What more could he handle once he figures out you’re already spoken for?

Content & warning ¡ Ao'nung x Reader! They are both idiots in love. Second part to (Uh-oh! I think you're holding the heart of mine!)

“You have been out more recently,” The voice of your mother startled you, making you immediately stop dead on your tracks with a groan. You had not expected her to be home so early, especially that the day was just about to set. You sharply turned to her, shoulders tense, and tight-lipped. For a second, you felt younger– remembering the nights you stood the same after being caught red-handed for sneaking out and returning home late, but it was different this time and you know it.

“Eywa had blessed me lavishly,” You presented her your woven satchel full of banana, yovo, and a handful of other fruits. There wasn’t much meat, however, but you’ve caught enough that could last for days. You let it sit outside to clean later on, “Father won’t have to hunt for a few weeks.”

“Ao’nung had visited,” She eyed you knowingly, trying to put two and two together. “Again.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped your satchel from your sore shoulder. You were desperately trying to avoid him and while you have been successful in doing so, you could never escape your prying mother. Weeks had passed since Ao’nung apologized back at your safe place and you haven’t looked back since. You fled– feeling the weight of his words burn like acid rapidly spiraling out your stomach instead of the relief you’ve been yearning all these years.

Let me grow old with you and I promise to be wiser.

The way your face grimaced after, retracting from his touch so hurriedly was another punch to the gut.

Don’t go there, Ao’nung. You don’t know what you’re saying.

He said it so sincerely– so heart-wrenching that you would have given yourself right there and then, but you knew better than to quell his sorry conscience. You fled, leaving him with his bare heart in his hand with nothing but the whistling wind to accompany him. Only then did he realize how lonely it was to be there without you to fill in the spaces; how this sanctuary was just any other place without your presence. He left hours later.

The olo’eyktan’s son was still hopeful, despite the many blisters on his already red fingers and the sharp slaps from his sister– who knew weaving was this difficult? Tsireya was an unforgiving mentor, immediately scolding him for every wrong pattern and shaming him of his poor choice of color and beads. She was keen on helping him work on his apology; it would have been a big fat lie if she said he didn’t improve tremendously. (she’s pertaining to his development as a whole, not his weaving skills. he sucks ass, but he’s trying!)

He delivered the various handcrafted accessories himself as well as the tops and loincloths he made, hoping that you’d answer him personally– but he was always greeted by his mother and her sorry smile. She’s out hunting. I have not seen her since this morning. She left to train. Ao’nung would immediately slump his shoulders, bidding her goodbye with a frown gracing his features.

“You tire the poor boy,”

“And I am worn out myself, mother.” You argued.

“Then at least tell him,” She gave you a stern look, “If it’s not him, it’s Ts’ute.” The people were no stranger to gossip; their eyes could tell even the smallest of changes amongst the clan and they’re quick to spread it like wildfire, so it was no surprise either that you and the olo’eyktan’s son were the subject of everyone’s whispers. The usual shadow that trailed behind Ao’nung like a second tail was nowhere to be found anymore and he grew more hostile and impatient– it didn’t take long for everyone to take two and two together.

You weren’t just known for your obvious fondness towards Ao’nung– you were top of your class; strong-hearted and skillful, you’d be the talk amongst the men your age. The moment people got the memo, they were quick to advance– to knock on your door with their hearts to offer and your mother did not turn a blind eye to any of it, Ts’ute included. He was a fearless hunter himself and loved by many.

“Why must you determine my heart?”

“Because you cannot speak of what it desires most. You’re holding yourself back and you know it very well.”

You couldn’t think of any more reply because you knew damn well she was right, so you headed right for the exit. On your way out, you were face to face with an eager Ts’ute. His ears lifted in surprise and you fought back the groan that threatened to leave your mouth. You gave him a tight-lipped smile, slightly nodding to acknowledge his presence. “Ma __, I come bearing fruits from our hunt.”

You walked past him, hands tightly gripping the satchel that bore a few fruits you wished to give Tsireya. “And have you forgotten I was a part of that very hunt, Ts’ute? I’ve brought enough for my family, share it with others instead.”

He hurriedly ran beside you, “Then allow me to walk with you, please.”

You let him join you, eyes scanning the place for your friend while you walked. You could feel him stealing glances, admiring the way your forehead would slowly crease or how you bit your bottom lip when you were deep in thought. “You are meaner to yourself than he ever was, have you realized that? You still seek for him” Ts’ute suddenly said, head turning to look at him.

You sighed, already knowing where this conversation would lead. “It is not my intention. You cannot just undo years of me pining over him, it’s not easy to just– unlearn something you have terribly lived for all your life.” your head hung low in shame as you rambled. It was wrong for you to vent about another man to your suitor, but you couldn’t help but pour your frustrations out on him.

“Believe me, I know.” He grabbed your wrist to stop you from walking any farther. His hand caressed your cheek and as much as you tried to appreciate the warmth of his calloused palm, it was foreign and distant. He wasn’t him and you resented the fact that you still did seek for him. You felt extremely guilty with the way he looked at you; still full of anticipation– of hope and you hate to be the one to crush it completely. “Tell me you want this, __, or you’ll never hear from me ever again.”

You thought about it. You really did. Ts’ute was an absolute catch, the clan’s golden boy. You’d be happy with him and you know it, but the thought lingered on the back of your mind— Ao’nung. Oh great mother, even if he was nowhere to be seen, he was still able to become a pain in your ass. You appreciated Ts’ute, truly, but the olo’eyktan’s son was a different kind of stubborn that you couldn’t just shake off.

You loved him— adored him to no end and while you hated him for it, Eywa makes no mistakes. With a solemn sigh, you could only give him an apologetic look, borderline embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Ts’ute.” You took his hand that caressed your face, “You deserve a love that could reciprocate, but I believe I have been spoken for all my life.”

He retracted his hand from your hold, much to his dismay, and only nodded his head in defeat. “Tsireya is just near the shore. You should find her there.”

He left you there completely unmoving. Unbeknownst to you, the same gaze lingered from a far, watching the scene unfold. Ao’nung’s grasp tightened around the necklace he had just finished and knew there and then that he was a lost man already and he was the only one to blame. He couldn’t bear how his heart sank, but he also couldn’t walk away, almost like it anchored his entirety down.

He left an hour later, necklace buried somewhere on the sand and his heart near it.

You had not heard of Ao’nung for weeks and it confused you terribly– no sight of him nor any news. It was like he vanished from your eyes, never to be seen again. The gifts stopped coming as well and although you never properly acknowledged it, you kept one of his hand-crafted bracelets around your wrist. It felt right to have something of his near. You hoped for another chance to rekindle inside, even just a tiny speck of light that could encourage you to keep holding onto the already seeping warmth of fondness– to tell you that turning Ts’ute down was a good thing and you had not just doomed your romance forever.

And right now, you felt ridiculed– on top of that, alone. You were back at your safe place after all the time you’ve neglected it, peacefully washing your hair and removing the braids and beads. You hummed while you got rid of all the little shells and situated them between the rocks, not noticing the approaching figure behind.

“Congratulations,” You visibly flinched, immediately turning your head to the devil itself. Ao’nung sat on the edge, slightly swinging his feet on the water.

“Congratulations? What are you doing here– where have you been?” You couldn’t help the questions. This very man was gone only to reappear with a congratulations. You were out of your mind, even going as far as saying that his presence was only a hallucination from all the days you kept wishing for him.

“I have heard.” His vague responses were only drilling further your curiosity and it did not help the growing frustration that slowly spiraled from your stomach.

“I do not know what you mean, Ao’nung.”

“You’ve chosen,” his lips would close tightly and his shoulders would slump from every sharp short breath he took. It was an impulsive decision for him to march here, to finally have the guts to face you. He couldn’t run from it anymore– he had to face the consequences of his own stupidity. “And I wish you happiness, really. I really, really, really do,”

��Ao’nung–”

“I hope you get everything your heart has ever yearned for and I hope to never hear a thing about it,” His voice was shaky, words tumbling over one another. Ao’nung had lowered his body down the water to come near you and you moved not even one bit. You took in the raw emotions written all over his face; the desperation in his tone, his vulnerable stance– he came bare and absolutely miserable. “It’s selfish of me, __, truly selfish of me, but I will never be satisfied.”

“Ao’nung, please let me talk.”

“My title, everything– I would have let it be damned. I would have gladly stepped down to take your hand instead.”

You exhaled deeply and frustratedly reached up to cup his face, finally closing the gap between you and Ao’nung. For a moment, he was too stunned to respond, breath hitching and heart entirely warm to the core– the kiss spoke of all the things left unsaid. He held your nape to deepen the kiss and it was like a dam had burst inside you. Your lips were soft and he was a starved man– you were everything he had terribly craved for and he wanted nothing more than to feel every inch of you against him. You could feel your heart pounding against his chest and you knew that his was racing just as quickly.

He was wrong– so wrong. To push you away, to embarrass you, everything. It didn’t matter if it took him forever to make it up to you, didn’t matter if he had to bleed out and show you his heart himself. He was an idiot, an idiot beyond grateful that you still took him in.

“I declined Ts’ute,” You said, breathless.

“I think the kiss explained enough, alright.” He chuckled and you could only push him away in embarrassment, the confidence completely leaving your entirety the moment his cockiness returned. Ao’nung pulled you back in an embrace, his eyes never leaving yours and you swore the butterflies inside your stomach fluttered violently– he looked at you like you had hung the stars yourself, so delicate and full of love. “I see you, __. I mean it.”

“You better.”

☆ mauve here! i know i said i was gonna include neteyam BUT MY HEART COULDNT CHOOSE BETWEEN THEM bec yk im running to neteyam in an instant. not edited nor proof read so feel free to point out any mistakes! i am extremely tired and it's quarter to 4 in the morning. idk if this felt rush augh

tags: @aonungsmate @dearstell (it felt appropriate to add you in the tag, but if it bothers you i will gladly put it down immediately !!)

#mauve writes ☆#ao'nung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x fem!reader #angst #avatar #avatar the way of water #tsireya #aonung

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dukeofdelirium · 3 months ago

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I will never believe Zu/tara shippers when they say they hate Kata/aang because it's "heteronormative" since one of the main complaints Kata/aang gets from them is that "no 14 year old girl would wanna date a bald boy who's younger and shorter then her" or how Aang gets called a bald lesbian as an insult. Idk man I think Katara ending up with the bad boy with anger issues who is most stereotypically masculine of all the Gaang boys and who she spends most of the story hating for hurting her and her friends (who also personally betrayed her trust when she tried to help him). Idk man I think if these two got together that'd be a lot more heteronormative, especially since they only became friends an ep before the finale started. I think Katara and Aang's relationship has writing issues too (I have a lot of gripes I'm not coming at this as a shipper) but it takes a particular kind of ship brainrot to argue Zuta/ra end game would have made more sense or been a better end game with the canon we are given. And arguing it's somehow less heteronormative to make Zuko get together with Katara. I can't with this fandom.

if either of these two ships fit the definition of heteronormativity, it’s zvtara, not kataang. Aang does not fit the western male character type. He is short, shaves his head, is pacifistic, and quite feminine compared to the other male characters. He gets insulted for doing things that characters deem as “feminine”, like weaving jewelry for one.

the show doesn’t actually support this idea that femininity is bad, but characters like Sokka who have narrow viewpoints early in the story try to ridicule him. toph also makes jabs at Aang’s femininity.

Zvtara shippers argument has never been about heteronormativity. It’s always been “misogyny”. The only reason they’re adopting heteronormativity in their list of vocab words they still don’t know the definitions of is bc most of us kataang shippers on here (tumblr) are gay, bisexual, etc. And because we, as majority lgbt ppl have stated that their ship is heteronormative, they just want to flip that to use against us even when it doesn’t apply.

Kataang simply doesn’t follow a typical m/f ship in terms of writing, characters or how they interact with one another. Which is by and large why it has been so hated by these idiots. They wanna say “muhhh heteronormativity” but in the same breath ridicule Aang’s femininity, say he isn’t masculine enough for her, call him a lesbian etc to undermine the ship. Just as they say “muhhh male gaze” when most kataang shippers are actually women, because most ppl involved in shipping communities and fandoms in general are women.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I only know of a couple of male kataang shippers on here, myself being one of them. Ships and fandoms are very much and have always been a female dominated community. That’s for any fandom or any ship I’ve seen.

Their arguments are ridiculous and make no sense. It’s just like when some zvtara idiot was in my inbox harassing me for being a man and was saying that I’m an incel and that I hate women and want to rape women….. when I’m fucking GAY! Nothing they say makes sense or is canonical, so I’ve long since stopped taking anything they say seriously. It’s just free entertainment at this point.

Full offense but I don’t need a bunch of straight girls to tell me what heteronormativity means 😂

#kataang #pro kataang #anti zutara #avatar the last airbender #atla #anon

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numberonestuckyshipper · 9 months ago

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Don’t mind me, just feel like sharing the Barnes family that lives in my head

James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes: The oldest sibling, hella protective of his siblings (only they are allowed to make each other miserable, anyone else will suffer). Huge nerd, loves sci-fi, good at most of telle things that he tries, he loves his family more than anything, it’s that simple

Steve(n) Grant Rogers: is one of the Barnes as far as anyone is concerned, most people actually believe that because of how much time he spends with them and how close he is with all of them. He and Bucky are the closest and know each other by heart, but he’s also really good friends with the girls and sometimes jokingly calls Winnie and George “Ma”, “mother”, “pa” and “father” usually when he’s being a kiss ass to piss of the siblings. Honestly he pretty much lives at their house at this point. He’s a Barnes sibling, not up for debate for any of them.

Mary-Anne “Annie” Charity (Sheldon-)Barnes: She’s aboit a year younger than Steve and two and a half years younger than Bucky, but honestly, she’s probably the most mature out of the bunch. She’s the mom of the friend group (yes the siblings are also pretty much a friend group, they love each other. Unrealistic from my experience but leave me alone) and she’s also the most helpful around the household. She’s the only Blonde in the biological Barnes family, which often helps Steve to blend in with them. She and Steve are besties, she had a huge crush on him when they were kids but got over it eventually, she likes to joke that Steve is her favorite brother when she’s messing with Bucky. She’s usually the one reasoning and lecturing the others but often ends up being the one to cover for them when the others are doing something stupid. Bucky used to call her “MAC” because of her initials to piss her off, and got her to tear up on her wedding day when he called her “MACS”. She got married to William Sheldon as soon as she was old enough to get married and had a son called Charles (everyone called him Charlie), Steve was his godfather.

Rebecca “Becca” Marjorie (Proctor-)Barnes: she’s three and a half years younger than Bucky and is the sibling that annoys him the most. Bucky and Becca are always finding ways to mess with each other and make the other miserable (figuratively speaking, they would never try to actually hurt each other). Annie is usually the one to split them up when they’re arguing. She looks a lot like Bucky and has a ton in common with him, and they both hate it and use it to annoy the heck out of each other. Later on she gets engaged to Arthur Proctor who asked for George, Bucky and Steve’s blessing to marry her. They got married after the war. She became an activist for civil rights and peace after the war. She and her husband Arthur died in a car crash in 1960. They were the Winter Soldier’s first mission.

Elizabeth “Lizzie” Madeline Barnes: depending on my mood, she’s between 16 and 10 years younger than Bucky. Either way, she’s the baby of the family. She’s the sweetest kid alive, and looks a lot like her siblings. She was one of the many people who believed that Steve was a Barnes, and broke down crying when she accidentally discovered the truth at the age of ten, running to Steve and begging him not to leave her even though he never had any intentions to do so. She’s a very smart kid who hangs on her older siblings’ every word. She trusts them never to lie to her, even when the truth is ugly, they do their best to explain things to her in a way she can understand (and not get traumatized by in the case of the war).

George Barnes: is their father, he lost his middle and ring finger of his right hand during the Great War, and the idea of war terrifies him though the first years of Bucky’s life were hard on him, he usually managed to ground himself with the presence of his children. His family is Jewish, and his uncle Randolph is a total dickhead that is not allowed near his children ever since that one time.

Winnifred “Winnie” Barnes: she’s the mother, she and George love Steve like one of their own, she’s an amazing cook and loves when Steve and Sarah stay over for meals, she’s very generous and especially during the depression when everyone was in need, she never hesitated to give up things to others who needed it more. She’s catholic like Steve and Sarah and raised her kids to know her religion, though they picked more up from their father

Sarah Rogers: is Steve’s mom, she doesn’t get to spend as much time with the children due to her need to work for a living, she loves how close Steve got to that amazing family and is always reassured that he has someone behind his back when he does something stupid and has another family to rely on when she’s at work. She and Winnie pretty much share custody of the kids, they love seeing her whenever she has the time

Anyway, just some personal headcanons that no one asked for!

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #sarah rogers #Winnifred Barnes #George barnes #becca barnes #barnes family #bucky barnes headcanon #barnes family headcanon

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benbunny · 8 months ago

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HIIIIII !!!!! i’ve sort of taken a break from dollblr lately because all but 1 of my dolls are tucked away in a storage box with really no potential to come out of the box anytime soon 😞 but in the meantime, i’ve been going through Dollie Withdrawal….so i found dolls small enough to have in my tiny new space! these are my first ball jointed dolls, and they’re SO tiny (11.5-12.5cm!!!!). pictures and face-paint progress below!

so this is what they looked like fresh out of the package. theyre from artpractic on etsy, and i think they’re 3D printed. all of their tiny little joints bend and move just like a larger BJD, it’s so cool!! they’re also the only “adult” size dolls i’ve ever had i think, except for Barbies. i purchased them planning to make 2 of the main characters from the Faeries of Dreamdark series (if anyone is familiar with those — 2 middle grade/young adult fairy fantasy books that came out in the mid 2000s). the characters are actually younger, sort of generically young teenagers (although faeries age slower, so theyre both over 100 years old). these are the wings i was thinking about, based on the character’s’ descriptions

first i dyed the male doll with Rit to match the character (who’s from what’s basically faerie India), which worked ok. it isnt too patchy, and he’ll be wearing long pants and sleeves sooner or later, so that will hide the parts that didnt take the dye too well. i used watercolor pencils to give them both some body blushing and basic coloring, then went in with acrylic paint and the tiniest little brush i could find for the details. i think it’s not too bad for my first full face paint, especially not on faces the size of my pinky nail!! i also used acrylic paint for body details like scars — the characters are a warrior and a guardian, so they have their fair share of scars and injuries throughout the book. i also gave the male doll top surgery scars, because the character has always read as trans to me

i can’t quite decide which wings for one of them, though. for context, this character Hirik Mothmage has big moth wings that are described as black and ruby hawkmoth wings. personally, i always imagined him with silk moth wings, no idea why. either way, these are my two options: neither are hawkmoth wings, so it’s just based on what looks better. he’ll have brownish-black hair and also big brown moth antennae above his eyebrows, if that gives a fuller picture

the other character is Whisper Silksinger. she’s a scamperer, not able to fly, which is why her wings are so much smaller

this has been so fun though, and it’s really scratching my Dollie itch. i’ve always stayed away from itty bitty dolls like this, because i’m clumsy and not very dextrous and tend to fumble around blindly with anything smaller than a Barbie doll, but it’s been a fun challenge! now i have to figure out hair and then clothing. not sure if trying to make a wig will be easier, or if i should just glue the hair right onto their heads, lol

#my posts #other dolls #ball jointed doll #bjd

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lowcallyfruity · 8 months ago

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Long Messy ass Leovil thoughts under the cut I just started rambling 😭😭

CRINGE WARNING 😨😨😨

Leovil is so doomed relationship to me. A relationship that was doomed to fail no matter how hard they tried to make it work. I always say that Leovil are ‘divorced’ or exes but I never really knew WHY. I never gave it a reason because I just wasn’t sure why they would have broken up. Cheating felt wrong, it just didn’t feel THEM. I don’t think either of them would cheat, that just isn’t them to me. And after thinking for a bit I decided on mental health.

I think that they dated maybe first/second year, and honestly at that time it was not the best for either of them to be in a relationship. They jumped into soon and didn’t fully think it through, a part of it was to feel something. ANYTHING. Part of it was to feel some form of relief. I think they tried, they really did. To make it work. I think they wanted it to last and maybe it did just for a bit. Maybe there was a satisfaction of them lasting a year. Or a month. Or two. Maybe to them having a relationship that lasted more than just a week or two was good enough. But it still hurts. Because they still wanted to try. They wanted to have something that lasted. They never had something last forever, never had such a strong connection and they got used to that. They just wanted to have something. Anything. A friend. Someone that cared. Someone that cared. Someone that understands at least just a little bit. But it was so impossible for them both at the time because they couldn’t deal with all of their problems in life. Leonas family issues and depression, Vil’s issues with the industry and his own hidden sadness and jealousy. They couldn’t handle a relationship at the same time. They weren’t ready.

They go well together but they also clash together. They can’t agree sometimes. And it’s hard to get through to each other. But they will try because they’ve gotten attached.

Yet no matter how much they wanted it to work it failed. They kept pushing issues aside.

I think when they broke up there weren’t any hard feelings at first. I mean. It was mutual. But as the days passed it got more difficult to feel that way. A part of them understood WHY but they also felt incomplete and unresolved. A slight bit of disappointment. It later grew to resentment.

They don’t hate each other. They really don’t. And I think now they understand their feelings more than back when they were younger. But they also somewhat can’t let go of that resentment that they felt from that first year.

They’re playful with each other. They tease. They’re in sync. They care about each other. They poke fun at each other. They remember the little details about the other. But there is always that little feeling that lingers. The desire for more. But being too scared to act on it. Because they don’t want to hurt again. Not anymore. They can’t let go. Maybe they’re just better as friends. No not friends. Rivals? Co workers? They’re too stubborn to let go of their grudges. Even if they seem silly now.

And it repeats over and over again.

And it’s been doomed since the beginning. A cycle that repeats over and over again. Like Sisyphus and his boulder.

Longing and yearning but letting go and pushing away.

#this is so messy bc I can’t organize my thoughts #I wrote this at night so it’s probably not the best #it’s like so messy and I don’t know how to properly format and organize my thoughts about them #me trying to explain them without bringing in my PD headcanons for them too much #long post #💛!me talking💀#Leovil…the slays…

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hurlumerlu · 1 year ago

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I find it quite simple

a little Not Me fic about Gumpa and Black (sort of) bonding over being older siblings :

It was an evening like many others. Yok and Gram had already left, Sean with one of them, or both of them, or off to one of Namo’s haunts, leaving Gumpa to clean the table like a dissatisfied housewife. Except this time, Black was still here.

"These fuckers, I swear," he said, contemplating the wasteland of dirty plates and empty bottles, unlit cigarette already firmly in mouth. "This is how you can tell they’re all only children."

Gumpa almost pointed out that Black generally didn’t stick around to help either, but decided against it : the kid talking about anything else than their next move was a rare enough occurrence. Better not nip it in the bud.

"I don’t know about that," he mused instead. "My younger brother has three siblings and I don’t think he’s picked up after himself even once in his life."

"That’s what elder siblings are for."

"Ha ! Good thing my sisters didn’t see it that way. I would have gone mad, always taking care of a four-people mess all by myself."

"Aren’t you taking care of a five-people mess right now ?"

"You’re helping me, aren’t you ?"

Black snorted. They��d brought the dishes to the courtyard and set out to clean them. "So, you’re the eldest of four ?"

"Two sisters, one brother. You ?"

"Eldest too, by an hour. He took his sweet time."

"A twin ?"

"You think ?"

"Okay, smartass." He flicked water at him. Black rolled his eyes, but said nothing. The heat of the day had lessened, and the night air was companionably warm – the silence too.

It remained that way until they were back inside, cigarette smoked, dishes stored, table wiped, and Gumpa took two beers from the fridge.

"About what we do," asked Black. "Do your siblings know ?"

Gumpa opened his bottle and swallowed a mouthfull. It gave him some time. "No. No one does. A few years ago, my sister – the oldest – was arrested for helping women get illegal abortions." He tensed despite himself, bracing for the usual comments and questions, but Black didn’t talk. He just kept looking at him with the aggressive focus typically reserved for their plans. "As you can guess, this was a pretty hard time for the family. Harder for her, of course, she’s not done building herself back up, but – if I can save my parents some worries over another child… I have to try, at least."

"But you didn’t tel your sister either. The oldest, I mean."

"Nah." He couldn’t help but smile. "She’d try to help."

To his surprise, Black was smiling too, and raised his beer in an I’ll-drink-to-that gesture. It seemed as good a time as any to pry.

"And your brother, does he know ?"

The smile vanished like it’d never been there.

"We were separated," Black said, after a long enough moment that Gumpa had wondered if the conversation was over. "When our parents divorced. Father took one, Mom the other. I tried to write, but I assume they intercepted my letters – don’t ask me why, I won’t answer. And don’t tell me that’s fucked up because I already know."

What was there to reply to that ? Gumpa took another beer and held it out. Black nodded curtly.

"I don’t want him anywhere near all that anyway. He’s not like me, he’s..." He gave a vague handwave, leaving it for Gumpa to figure out. Softer. Fragile. Better, maybe, as in worth more. "It’s ugly here, and it’s only gonna get worse."

There they were.

"Things getting worse, is that why you didn’t leave tonight ?"

"Nothing gets past you."

"Come on, Black."

"My roommate, my – the guy I’m crashing at, I told you about him."

"Todd."

"Hmm. He’s more crooked than I believed, I think. Or exactly as much, but I’m only facing it now."

"Black..."

"I don’t need comfort. I don’t need your input at all. I’ll deal with him if I have to, and that’s the end of it. Understood ?"

"Normally I’d tell you off for bossing me around under my roof, but you get a pass this time. Understood, I won’t meddle."

"Thanks."

"Don’t make me regret it."

"Oh, piss off."

The impulse came, unexpected : to ruffle the younger man’s hair, give him an embarassing hug. He didn’t indulge. They weren’t brothers.

"Gumpa ?"

"Yes ?"

"Can I stay here tonight ? I’ll sleep on the couch, and I’ll be gone first thing in the morning."

You can stay as long as you need, he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure it would be well received.

"Sean might not even come back tonight. You could sleep in his bed."

"I’d rather gouge my eyes out," replied Black quite genially, and they went back to their drink.

"I met your brother the other day."

Black, of course, doesn’t answer.

"Kid just showed up at your uni, all dressed like you and ready to poke his nose into everything. He’s in over his head, and scared shitless, but he holds on for your sake. You should be proud."

Gumpa sighs. He can’t stay long – it was a bad idea, coming here, but he had to.

"I don’t know who told him about you. And I don’t know how to convince him to trust us. But I’ll look after him, you have my word. I’m trying to make him stay at the garage. Let’s hope he’s less of a loner than you."

He rises. There is nothing more to say, nothing more to do. No point in ruminating his failures. He still looks back before he lets the curtain drop.

"If he does take me up on the offer," he says. "I’ll make him room with Sean. With any luck, that’ll piss you off enough fo you to wake up."

#black & gumpa #mayyyybe black/gumpa if you want to read it that way #*pointing at gumpa* this man has siblings you can't change my mind #not me the series #nmrewatch23 #title is like that because the wife objected to me calling the fic 'brother complex' so take it up with her i guess #mine

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consumeroflemoans · 3 months ago

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vilidia Tangled au anon here.

Ok so first off, I love the first years being the snuggly duckling group it fits them so well actually.

I actually originally had just Rook being Maximus, but then I realized I wanted Epel to be part of the group too so I included him in being Maximus as well. But him being apart of the snuggly ducklings makes a lot more sense, but I still want him to join them in travelling to Corona (Or STYX in case)(Corona is the name of the kingdom). So let's say that Epel ends up running away with Idia and Vil when the guards show up at the bar.

I don't know much about the Cerberus bots, but Ortho being one but with sentience is a nice idea. Now the question is can/does he talk? Because maybe we can do this thing where he can shift between dog form and humanoid form, since his Cerberus gear does have him standing upright. But if we're going to stick with him being an animal sidekick then he can just be a robot dog that has sentience.

Vil being a robin hood type is a really good idea, since Flynn's motives of being a thief as far as I can recall is "I wanna be rich". So Vil doing all his thieving for the greater good works wonders.

As for Ruggie and Leona's motivation to working with Crowley, in the movie the bandits brothers (if I recall correctly) work with Mother Gothel to get revenge on Flynn because Flynn left them behind to get caught. So in this au we can go either way, 1. It's the same as the movie or 2. They hate Vil since he's causing trouble for them and other thieves, so getting the chance to screw him over is the perfect opportunity for them.

ALSO I think Idia should be in dress, like yes you can put in him a pants and shirt, but him being in a dress is funnier in my opinion. Also the running of joke of Flynn's wanted posters always having the wrong nose should stick around too, Vil getting increasingly frustrated they never get it right is funny to me.

I forgot this AU exists it’s been so long 😭😭

I don’t know if I mentioned this before but Rook being in Maximus’s role fits so perfectly because of the parallels with the hunter from Snow White. Him switching sides once he realizes who Idia is >>>>

Also I feel like Ortho would just have to be a sentient robot dog in this AU. Unless the Mother Gothel parallel decided to steal/make Idia a younger brother instead of getting him a pet. That would be a wild thing to happen

Also Vil isn’t as selfish as Flynn is so I think the Robin Hood comparison works well

Omg wait the reason Leona hates Vil is because they’re exes. They have the divorced dynamic in this AU too /j

Ok ok seriously I think maybe Vil’s morality got in the way of a job and maybe he caused the three of them to fail a mission and lose a lot of money. That would probably make those two dislike him enough to go against him

Also. Idia in a dress. Yes. I approve it would be cute

Also sobbing Vil would absolutely have that same gag he would get so annoyed I’m crying

#vilidia tangled AU #ask lemon #Vilidia

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dumuzithemessiah · 5 months ago

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If anyone deserves to be hugged from Kingdom Hearts the most..

Vanitas deserves it…He’s been through enough shit as it is…

With all the abuse he’s been through + strong negative emotions he’s been through…

As Darkness is one of my domains and as someone with no physical light in me I would be the someone he could relate to…

I would give Vanitas the hug he seriously needs…just because someone is a dark type doesn’t mean they have to be evil…

I’m literally known as The Rainbow Hero/Hero of Rainbows as that is what the Nibirian word Messiah means...although the rainbows are more so moonbows…

The word Messiah always referred to me not your false man made lie called Jesus as he is so fake as the letter J is only 500 years old as translations of lies made my man have been made over time… plus Cesare Borgia is where the fake Jesus gets his face from proving how much of a lie Jesus and Christianity is!

Multiple gods and goddesses exist! So tough shit if you lying hateful vile deceitful humans don’t like the truth and reality of everything! Truth doesn’t favour your hateful selfish species!

You humans have done nothing but act hateful, deceitful, intolerant, murderous, warlike, evil, act actually racist, and act terrible throughout history…

Mankind deserves what they’re gonna get on Judgement Day…

Humans gonna get “The Big E” for all the lives they took and continue to take and for damaging the Kosmos that badly to the point if my kind doesn’t act when Judgement Day happens then the Kosmos is gonna explode and that would destroy the Universe and kill all mortal life…. Magical life can escape such destruction…

So based on that and how much pain I’ve been in with neglect, abuse, lack of support, being attacked for being not human, lack of those who truly understand me, being treated badly because my existence proves their lies as what they are: lies…etc…so I can understand a bit what Vanitas goes through… as I go through similar pain, anger, and depression….but for different reasons…

I’d be producing Unversed too if they existed with how I’ve felt throughout my time on Earth….

Vanitas and I aren’t so different as humanity often calls me evil for speaking the truth and for being a dark type…

But unlike Vanitas I at least try to do the right thing…

I hope Kingdom Hearts gives Vanitas a redemption and happy ending with him and Ventus being true brothers and him becoming a true person…

I also lack actual light in me so I can also relate to Vanitas in that area too…

I separated my light into two beings: Kosmin and Lumuzi.

I also separated my “feminine” side making Geshtinonna.

Nibirians have reverse gender standards compared to humans…

We look nothing like humans either…

So the whole gods resemble humans is a man made lie…

I am married to Marduk but haven’t seen him since I arrived on Earth so I really miss him… Marduk is a light type with no darkness in him…

So he in a way makes up for the lack of light in me…

But as of right now I am alone and miss my family… so many emotions of anger, loneliness, sadness, stress, depression, etc…

So I am a lot like Vanitas in that way…

So ironic that the god[[aka me]] who created the Universe and Multiverse is a bit like Vanitas..

When I was younger in the First Universe I was a bit more like Sora… Pretty much a cheerful goober of a boy…

It’s pretty stupid to call me “vain” or “egotistical” just for being what and who I am as I can’t help being me…

So humans, who have done such great amount of harm and bloodshed, I will ask this: Who are you: A species that has literally messed up the balanced of life and death, spread so much war and genocide, spread so much lies and hate, etc, to call anyone egotistical but yourselves?!

I literally sacrifice my own happiness to heal the Kosmos, stress myself out by speaking the truth - which is part of my job but still - am far away from my own family and friends thus am lonely, and to top of that I deal with bullshit after bullshit every fucking day!

You humans have zero right to call anyone egotistical but yourselves!

Think of history and how humans have acted as even today they act horrible towards another!

I made the Kosmos and in turn the Universe put of loneliness and desire to be surrounded by loved ones! Eventually that lead to me protecting others from harm! And I literally sacrifice myself in the First Universe to take out The Great Evil Herself!

And given what horrible things Ishtayr did to me… she held me against my own will, forced me to marry her by using evil magic to make me agree in order to hold me against my will, did the grape without the g which is possible as shapeshifting is a thing…she also tortured me with fire, scarred me up, threw flaming spiders at me, etc, then when I sit by her throne cause I thought maybe some good was in her, then she yeets me into Kohora aka the true Underworld?!

There is a reason why a god who has life as one of his domains also has death, reincarnation, resurrection, etc!

And humans think I’M SELFISH?! With the literal hell I’ve been through?

I could go on and on about the bad things I’ve been through..

Okay I got it way worser than Vanitas… If Vanitas wasn’t a fictional character he’d be shocked how bad I’ve had it in my life..

Plus what happened in the City of Hell? Ancient city with a blood nectarine orchard? Had Ishtayr worshippers? They attacked my twin children I had with Marduk named Qupit and Yorupit… they couldn’t fly after the attack…

I literally raged and burned down the ancient city as there was nothing but evil there and no, nobody was gay in that city as hateful lying Christards love to lie about! Just all sorts of evil that you’d normally think of as evil! And those who tried to escape and looked back turned to stone from the sight of the dark elemental flames!

I only brought the twins there as I thought we could quickly pick some nectarines… the twins begged me to go… and they wouldn’t take no for an answer….

I hope the twins…my children…are doing better now though…

I just want all the evil to go away…. This Helveon War as it’s been dubbed to finally end so I can be with my loved ones and for Ishtayr to be gone…

Nothing the false Messiah Jesus was written to go through can hold a damn candle to the horrible shit I’ve been through… Jesus is just a fake anyways as he never existed and the whole Jewish king thing came from Nabatean writings about me when I was trying to teach humanity the truth!

Sin means “wisdom” in Ancient Nibirian not “crime” you hateful lying human bastards…

Sin also is my disguised form when I returned to the middle world aka the Universe as Yumera aka Dream World is above the Universe and below it is Kohora which is a surreal magical paradise!

Stop taking words from my homeplanet and corrupting them with your hateful lies!

A satahn is a word meaning magical prosecutor not an evil entity or an individual!

Ehden means “wilderness” not “paradise” like you humans gleefully lie your asses off claiming what it means but in reality your false meaning isn’t fact but a lie! It is pronounced Eh-den not Ee-den, you jerks!

And being one of The Holy Four Kosmos Deities I can assure you I feel the Kosmos’s pain directly..

And if you think I’m harsh I’ll have you know other members of my kind aka other gods and goddesses wouldn’t put up with humanity’s evil ways either…

It’s a mixed bag what god or goddess is real as Pele for example is real and she’s royally pissed at humanity! Pele is the daughter of King Enkai and Queen Ninsun who’re both male and are my rebirth parents but yeah mythologies are written by man thus don’t hold any accuracy hardly!

#Vanitas #kingdom hearts #i can relate

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sebastianshaw · 2 years ago

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Hi, for once you’re getting a rant about retcons that AREN’T the usual ones. In Gillen’s “Immortal X-Men” spotlight on Shaw, he depicts Shaw’s father, Jacob, as emotionally abusive towards Shaw, and as berating him as unworthy for Jacob to talk to until he has money of his own. Jacob is also depicted wearing Hellfire Club livery (frilly cuffs, etc) and they are living in a house with a chandelier and a very nice writing desk. While Jacob speaks of trying to recover the family fortune, they’re clearly not all that bad off either, at least not enough so that they’ve had to sell these things. This is a retcon that contradicts previous flashbacks and other indications that Shaw (1) had a good relationship with Jacob and (2) grew up EXTREMELY poor. Both of which are important to his character, and I much prefer for him, both because they came first and have been an established part of his history for DECADES, and because they just work BETTER than Gillen’s retcon. Unlike Duggan and many other writers for the last dozen years, Gillen does seem to “get” Shaw very well in the present, I like how he writes Shaw in general and I largely enjoy that issue, but he grievously misunderstands how his past influences who he is, and made his own version of a new past instead—one that, sadly, I find inferior to the original. Now I’ll talk about why.

The first time we learn anything about Jacob Shaw or his relationship with Sebastian is in the “X-men: Hellfire Club” four-issue miniseries written in 2000 by Ben Raab. Jacob Shaw was born in England, the son of Cornelius Shaw and younger brother of Esau Shaw. The Shaws seem wealthy, and Cornelius was a member of the London Hellfire Club. After Cornelius’s death, another member, Waltham Pierce (presumably an ancestor of Donald Pierce) approached Esau about recruiting him into the Hellfire Club to take his father’s place (Esau refused) but not Jacob. The madly jealous Jacob is approached by none other than Mr. Sinister, who grants Jacob shapeshifting abilities via a syringe. Jacob used these abilities to kill his brother Esau (while disguised as Waltham) and attempted to kill Waltham (disguised as a woman he bedded) however, the latter attempt was interrupted by Union Jack, and Jacob was forced to flee in his true form. Presumably, he ran to the US, perhaps illegally, and likely without much money, as the next time we see him, he is a wizened man dying in hospital of a mysterious blood disease (possibly a consequence of Sinister’s alteration to him) Though there is no mother in sight, he has a young adult son, Sebastian, who works in a steel mill while struggling to earn a scholarship, as they have no money for him to get out of this life any other way. The very day Shaw gets his letter informing him he’s earned a full scholarship and runs to tell his father, he arrives to find his father has died or is dying. Holding Jacob’s hand, Sebastian speaks to him with tears in his eyes, promising him how he will “make him proud” and is going to be an engineer “just like we always wanted” It’s a sad, touching scene, and does not suggest any ill feelings between the two, quite the reverse.

The next time the subject of Shaw’s father comes up, it’s in the previously mentioned story with Mr. Sinister and the Cronus machine. This story features one panel in particular that sticks out to me:

Sunspot: Your father was a nobody, you said.

Shaw: I did not say that.

Shaw is *protective* of his father here, defending him posthumously from insult. He also trusted his father enough to keep the anti-Cronus device with him his entire life on his father’s word despite having no idea what it did.

Now, could these things be true if his father actually was abusive and Shaw resented him his whole life for it, as in Gillen’s depiction? Well, yes. As with the fact that the sweet, romantic moments between Sebastian and Lourdes depicted in this miniseries could very easily coexist with the “Shaw was abusive to her” retcon that Duggan would pull 20+ years later, Shaw could easily have trusted his father and wanted to make him proud and held his hand on his deathbed and all of that while ALSO having been emotionally abused by Jacob and resenting him as Gillen depicted in his 20+ later version. Abuse dynamics are very, very complicated in real life, and it’s very rare that any abusive relationship is “all bad” all the time, in fact. That’s one of the most pervasive and frustrating myths to me about abuse and abusers, actually, so normally I *want* fiction to depict that kind of realistic nuance. But that’s not what’s going on here. What’s going on here is that Raab told one story, and then Gillen and Duggan told two completely different ones. It’s just normal comics contradiction. Like, yes, these versions COULD co-exist, but that was obviously never the intent. Raab may have only been able to show a few pages of Shaw’s relationship with Lourdes and with Jacob, and he chose to make those pages ones that indicated love. When you’re doing a comic book character’s backstory, and you only have a limited number of pages and panels to cram it all into, you’re going to pick stuff that essentially provides a “snapshot” to sum it up. So yes, if Shaw was a real person, then he could absolutely have abused Lourdes like Duggan while also having the tender moments Raab showed, and been abused by Jacob the way Gillen showed while also having the relationship aspects that Raab and the other writer (name escapes me) showed and suggested. But he’s not a real person, he’s a character in a story, and when you understand how stories work, how comics work especially, it’s pretty obvious that none of these later retcons/additions were ever intended to be the case in the original content, and in fact are intended to be the OPPOSITE of the case, given what we saw. It’s not just that Gillen and Duggan added things, they added things completely CONTRADICTORY to what the original works “snapshots” indicated about these relationships. And while I could just buckle and incorporate them into my understanding…no, I don’t think I shall. For a few reasons: - I’ve been studying Shaw since 2014, writing him since 2016. These retcons were made in the 2020s. They completely change the previous dynamics with Jacob and Lourdes that I originally understood, and accordingly change Shaw’s character. Comics change, contradictions happen, I get it, I accept it (albeit kicking and screaming) but that doesn’t mean I have to use it in my own writing. I pride myself on being MORE canon than canon because I stick with canon as it originally happened, not just what the latest writer did. - Just as I think Shaw actually being a good lover makes him a more interesting character than if he was a shitty abusive one, so too do I think a good relationship with his father adds more interest and nuance to him. The idea that Shaw has the capacity to love and to have good relationships but has destroyed that by becoming so repellant to others, as well as so paranoid due to the shitty experiences with shitty people he goes through by CHOOSING to be a member of the Hellfire Club and be a shitty person himself, is a really interesting setup. And this capacity is shown by his early relationships in life–Jacob and Lourdes—being good ones. There’s also the fact that mean parents, especially mean fathers, are just SUCH a goddamn cliche at this point. Shaw not only NOT having abusive parents, but in fact downright averting that with a GOOD relationship with his father, was different. It also added extra motive for him to want to achieve his dreams—making his dad proud by doing what they had planned together–not to mention there’s the fact that, if he loved his dad and his dad died of an illness, then it follows that if Shaw had had more money at the time, maybe he could have gotten him better medical care and Jacob might have lived. Probably not, of course, given his blood disease was likely Sinister’s work, but not knowing that, I’m sure the thought occurred to Shaw. That’s that much more motivation for his hard work and greed, the feeling of security that money brings. Gillen swaps out “wanting to make his dad proud because he loved him” for “wanting to succeed to rub it in his dead father’s face” and like…that works well, but again, why bother if the first story worked fine to begin with? Plus, it honestly just feels like a repeat of Emma’s dynamic with her own father. Maybe the idea was to draw parallels between them, but if you want to do that, you can already do it with Shaw’s original backstory—- he had a small poor family and a good relationship with his dad, she had a large rich family with a bad relationship with her dad. Despite their opposite circumstances, both were driven to succeed by their relationship with their fathers. There ya go, that’s your parallel. (See also: How Shaw and Emma respond to grief in opposite ways. Shaw committed to a worse path after Lourdes’ death, while Emma changed to a better path because of the Hellions death. Seriously you could do a lot with these two as mirrors if writers would just consider that instead of the nonsensical abuse retcons) - As I’ve mentioned before, I dislike that Shaw’s father abusing him gives an “easy” answer to why he abused Shinobi. As I also said before, what I really like about Shaw being an abusive father despite having a good dad is that it AVOIDED this trope and the easy answer. I really LIKED that Shaw doesn’t have the “well he was abused by his own father” trope going on. I like that it made me think about “well why DID he abuse Shinobi then?” and made me come up with answers that I think make a lot of sense for who he is and how he operates, and why it makes sense to me that he abuses his son but NOT his lovers, etc., - While emotional abuse can give a good characterization reason for why Shaw is awful, it fails on a thematic level. Shaw’s theme from the beginning has been corruption. When Claremont first writes the backstory of his takeover of the HFC in 1985, Shaw originally espouses a Magneto-like speech about using the Inner Circle to make mutants the victors in the world rather than the victims. But by the time he has his first conflict with the X-Men in the Dark Phoenix Saga, he’s gone right back to the original plots he had with the mutant-hating Ned Buckman to simply use the mutants as guinea pigs for profit, and spends the rest of the 80s happily peddling Sentinels to Senator Kelly. He only cares about money, this is made ABUNDANTLY clear, but he’s shown by the same writer as having started OUT as caring about more when he first became Black King. And when Claremont expands on his backstory in an early 2000s story, he has Sage recount that Shaw was actually a noble man when she first met him, a man who would have “spit on Hellfire” and that she would have served him faithfully forever if he hadn’t changed. It’s also implied via art he may have been on a humanitarian mission in Afghanistan when they met. And in Raab’s story, Lourdes cautions Shaw about the Hellfire Club, telling him that it changes people, corrupts them. She even tries to block his name for nomination (and oh look, he DOESN’T hit her for that, he isn’t even angry, DUGGAN) because she doesn’t want that to happen to HIM. And in Steve Lyon’s Legacy Quest Trilogy novels (which I cannot rec enough as a Shaw character source for me) it gets deeper detailed how the longer Shaw spends in the cloak and dagger world of the Hellfire Club, the longer he’s backstabbed by others and does backstabbing himself, the more closed-off and cruel he becomes, the more he only focuses on his wealth and power and disdains personal connections. In other words, the way Shaw is comes DIRECTLY from his own choice to engage in the Hellfire Club and to continue to do so every day he wakes up. It’s a PROGRESSION and it’s his own FAULT, his own CHOICE. He becomes like this through his own corruption and he actively makes that decision. Turning it into emotional abuse from his father firstly takes the progression/corruption aspect away, and it secondly takes Shaw’s own choice and agency out of it. Again, this could be a “well both things could be true” thing, that’s workable, but THEMATICS wise it does not. Again, these are not real people, these are characters in a story with THEMES they are meant to convey. Shaw’s theme of being corrupted by wealth, power, and the company he keeps in pursuit of that, is served much better by his original depiction. - I just don’t like it. At the end of the day, that’s really what it comes down to. Comics often gives multiple choice options for a character’s personality and past, and I’ve chosen mine. And while it’s not the one I chose, I actually think Gillen’s version isn’t bad. It’s a perfectly serviceable backstory for Shaw to explain why he is how he is. It’s just, a different perfectly good one already existed, and I like that one better. Now, on to my other problem with Gillen’s depiction of Shaw’s childhood: Gillen does not show the Shaws poor. He depicts young Sebastian as coming into Jacob’s office to excitedly tell him about something and being cruelly dismissed because he doesn’t even have a million dollars to his name to be worth Jacob talking to. Yes really. Jacob is dressed in Hellfire Club livery (which…is odd, Jacob was never an HFC member, that was his whole motive for murder) and is depicted working behind a large desk in a large room with a chandelier. This is not the home of a poor family. Jacob says he’s working to restore the family fortune, suggesting they used to be wealthier than they are now, but they clearly still have money, they haven’t been driven to selling furniture, property, etc. This is a far cry from the “poor steel mill worker” past we originally saw for Shaw, and provides a very different motive for his drive to become wealthy. In his original past, his motive was pretty cut and dry: He escaped poverty, but then became consumed by greed and ambition to rise ever higher, make more money than he could ever justifiably need, etc. And I think it’s a good motive. It’s never explored deeply, or at all really, but I think the psychological trauma of poverty is what caused this pathological greed; and it is pathological, I don’t know what else you’d call the amount of risk he takes to get more more MORE that he doesn’t need at all. It reminds me of the “food insecurity” you see in people who didn’t have enough to eat growing up, just with money instead. It also makes his decadent lifestyle make a lot of sense, he grew up with nothing so now he wants everything. In Gillen’s retcon, this is replaced by daddy issues. When Shaw makes a million bucks, he comes and dumps it on his father’s grave and burns it. Which…dude, I don’t care how many daddy issues you give him, Shaw’s not going to burn good money. But basically, pursuing money is representative to Shaw of pursuing the love of a father that he never got, and because he never got it, he can never stop. Which….I’m not going to say that it doesn’t make sense, but, as with the “Jacob was emotionally abusive” retcon, it’s just not necessary. Shaw had a good solid motive already. And I prefer that original motive for a lot of reasons. Firstly, it’s unique. Daddy issues are a dime a dozen in comics, so much so that bad dads now make me GROAN in new characters. What’s more, Shaw’s specific dynamic with his dad is pretty much exactly like what Emma and Shinobi already had—”I hate you, rich dad I’m never good enough for, but I’m gonna prove myself to you by becoming successful by your standards!” And maybe that’s intentional, to make him more of a “dark mirror” to Emma and/or indicate a cycle with Shinobi, but it comes off as lazy and uncreative, which is even worse when you consider they were replacing something that WASN’T lazy and uncreative. Secondly, it takes away the fact Shaw is a self made man. Yes, this still depicts him making his own money, but he’s clearly got a good head start, in contrast to Shaw’s classical depiction of the last 42 YEARS of being born dirt poor and becoming a multibillionaire purely through his own effort. Yes, I grant that’s about as unrealistic as getting powers from radioactive spider bites, but thematically it is ESSENTIAL to this character, what he’s about, how he sees the world. The entire THEME of Shaw is that he literally is the embodiment of the American dream—that someone with nothing can achieve everything if they work hard—but then a deconstruction thereof because it also shows how corrupt he became along the way and sacrificed his decency and relationships with others for it. This isn’t just my reading, this is literally TEXTUAL in Raab’s work, he is literally referred to as the American dream by the narrative boxes, that is the POINT. Maybe Gillen was trying to make a statement on the impossibility of this, by saying “no ACTUALLY this “self-made” billionaire was born on third base or at least second” and I get that, but Shaw’s the wrong character for it both because it goes against what’s previously established and because it messes up so much of his theme and his resultant psychology. It also takes away many of Shaw’s admirable traits. As with the Emma and Lourdes retcons, this strips things away from Shaw that were likeable, humanizing, nuanced, etc. He goes from a man that, as awful as he was, did genuinely earn his fortune through hard work and has a right to be proud of it, and can be admired for it even if he’s rightfully hated for his mentality and actions. Now? Poor little rich boy with daddy issues. It’s just…it’s so reductive, it’s so much less interesting, it’s so unnecessary, and it takes AWAY from the complexity of the character, not adds to it. And that’s the reverse of what a retcon or expansion on a character’s history should do. I don’t hate retcons for being retcons. I think some are great in terms of fixing things, adding to a character, etc. Just, every retcon around THIS character have been bad for him, also take away from other characters too imo, and don’t work as well for story, thematics, etc as the originals already did.

#meta #father #out of shirt #I can't seem to set this as non rebloggable but as always please don't

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