So the thing that gets me about Starlo — the thing that really gets me — is how much this guy hates himself.
It's not something you notice the first time you're playing, because he's so confident and enthusiastic. He'd almost be cool if he wasn't such a dork. But after replaying the game with the context of where he came from, — and I'll admit, after reading some very interesting, in-depth fanfics and analysis about him, I'll try to link them if I find them again — his character becomes a bit... blurred. How much of this is Starlo, and how much of it is North Star?
Because- because the whole point of his sheriff persona is that he gets to be someone else, isn't it? When he's out there rootin' and tootin', acting out his hero fantasies and trying to imitate the characters from the westerns he admires, he becomes someone much cooler than himself. North Star is everything Starlo wishes he was: the fearless leader, the cunning cowboy, the confident sheriff who saves lives and wrangles bandits and hangs out with humans. Not just some nobody farmer who could disappear in the corn field without anyone noticing, not the son who wastes his time on daydreams.
He craves praise so deeply. That's the big difference between Star and Papyrus, I think, because Papyrus is just so unapologetically himself, while Star... he starts spending more and more time with this mask of greatness he made himself. Because people like North Star. Not Starlo.
North Star is a real sheriff. Not Starlo.
North Star is the one who brings help and hope and fun to monsters. Not Starlo.
North Star is the one worthy of being appreciated. Not Starlo.
And like... he wants to be liked so badly. So much effort is put into making sure North Star is good enough that Starlo tends to assume people hate him. He assumes his parents hate his life choices (they don't; they're proud of him and know he cares), he assumes Clover will laugh at him when he shows his face to them (they don't; despite everything, it's still him), he assumes the reason he fell out with his friends is because he wasn't a good enough sheriff (he knows damn well it wasn't actually Clover's fault, he's not THAT stupid. But he's still desperately grasping at the last pieces of his shattered persona, so if he just works harder, if he does what a real sheriff does and captures this human, then everything will be alright, won't it?)
I really wish we could have gotten more insight on Starlo's relationships and personality before the whole Wild East thing consumed him. Ceroba and the Feisty Five say they miss the old Starlo, but we never really get to know who the old Starlo was. And I don't think he knows either.
Wake the hell up, Star. People started liking you before you were North Star. Go eat some corn and calm down.
Point is, the impostor syndrome goes hard and that's such a mood. He was supposed to be the cool and silly cowboy guy, what the fuck–
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Reader that always cries/tries not to cry. As someone who has been yelled at for crying and who is extra sensitive, I live for the angst where the reader struggles to hold their emotions followed by all the fluff, comfort and reassurance.
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"But-it feels like you don't care Bucky!"
"I told you I was busy y/n!" Bucky sighed out of frustration, running his fingers through his short locks, "You know how stressful this job is, it's not like I cancel our dates on purpose"
You couldn't help but feel a tinge of neglect as you stood in front of your boyfriend, fully dressed for your date only for him to text you that it would have to happen another night.
Again.
"I haven't seen you in weeks. You go for days without answering your phone. I only call you because I care about you, I love you" You could already feel the warning signs making their way throughout your body. Your throat felt tight making it difficult to swallow. Your eyes stung with fresh tears. Your nose felt warm, threatening to sniffle.
"Yeah I get that," He scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance. "I just don't know if you understand how much I have to do in a day"
"I'm not stupid Bucky" Your voice started to crack, feeling worse for adding to his stress as your own emotions started to crumble. You wanted to hold it together, to have one conversation where you didn't break but-
"But you don't get it- c'mon y/n, don't cry" Bucky bit out, the words coming out harsher than he intended, not realizing how much it would upset you. You bit your lip harder to keep your chin from trembling, fat tears threatening to slip out the more you tried to blink them back. Your throat ached, constricting your neck more and more.
"I-I'm s-sorry" You choked out, hating yourself even more for getting emotional, the frustration evident in your voice. You harshly wiped your face between hiccups, letting out a frustrated groan. Bucky blinked, his previous annoyance replaced with regret seeing how upset you were with yourself.
"I-I don't mean t-to cry" You dug your nails into your palms to try and get yourself together, your body betraying you wish a fresh wave of tears only making you feel worse, "I don't want to!"
Your body trembled, your arms moving to hug yourself in an attempt to hide away, squeezing yourself together to gain some semblance of control. Bucky cursed internally, now pissed at himself for losing his patience when you were only upset for not being able to see him. You never asked for much; the only thing you wanted was to spend time with him and recently he hadn't been doing that either.
"Hey-no-baby shhh, c'mere" Bucky pulled you to his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head, rubbing your back up and down to calm your labored breaths. "Its not you angel, its me. I'm the one whose sorry, I shouldn't have spoken like that to you or said that, I'm sorry sweet girl"
"I-c-cry for-for everything" Your voice cracked into a defeated sob, embarrassed over how easily you broke down to tears, a new wave streaming down your face, wetting the front of his Henley. Bucky picked you up in his arms, carrying you over to bed where he could place you in his lap, cradling you to his body. "I h-hate it"
"My sweet, sensitive baby" Bucky cooed as he continued to cuddle you, rocking you in his arms while you got your breathing under control. "I'm sorry babygirl"
"I just missed you" You sniffled, clutching onto his dogtags while he kissed your temple repeatedly, stroking your hair.
"You have every right to be upset. I should be lucky my girl loves me so much, you don't even ask for a lot. I'm sorry I've been neglecting and cancelling on you so much, m'gonna take some time off so I can love on you properly"
You smiled into his chest, your body finally starting to relax, following the rise and fall of his chest.
"I'm sorry I cry so much- Bucky tipped your face up, pressing his lips against yours to stop your rambling.
"No, you cry as much as you want with me, I love that about you, okay?" He looked at your sincerely, meaning every word.
"But-
"You cry because you care. I love that you care so much. I love that cute little animal videos make you emotional. I love how deeply you feel for others. Fuck, I love how much you love me. I'll never meet anyone else who loves and cares for others the way you do. Don't ever change baby, you cry all you want"
You let out a small sniffle at his words making him chuckle, swiping his thumb across your cheek to wipe the tear the slipped out.
"What if it annoys you" you pouted while Bucky playfully pondered your question, pecking your lips again.
"Hmm, then you send Steve to beat me up. I promise he'll run at the chance at any given moment. Call Sam in too and get comfy with those fuzzy peaches you love so much"
"You sure?"
"I'm sure, doll" Bucky whispered, settling you under the covers with your head on his chest, planning to spend the rest of the day cuddling in bed. "Very sure"
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fatima aamer bilal, from coffin heart? bury me.
[text id: how did you get so close that i have to dissect you out from under my skin? / memory is a deathbed. remembrance is a grave. the memory of you is a scab that i keep picking so that it scars. a burn, a souvenir, something to claw at that claws back at me. / i refuse to be haunted by something less. / there's a sun-sized ache where your hands used to be. / and now that your place is empty, the blood in my heart pumps around nothing. / nothing. / nothing at all. / senseless circulation. / what am i to live for when i have made my body my casket? / where am i to go from here? / and i always knew longing had another name she wouldn't let me call her by — it's hunger. / my heart grew up to be far more starved than my stomach. / it's the things you learn in your childhood, from the words of your mother, from the hands of your father. / if your teeth do not graze my bones, i do not wish for you to kiss me. / how have i turned gentle love into such devastation? / such greediness? / i carry a coffin for a heart; everything i love must be buried. / plant your garden in the cracks of my skin—mud, gravel, everything. let my blood be water to cater to your needs. / terrible, terrible human, thinks barbarity and love are words of the same meaning. / a mad dog would be a far more gentle lover to the rocks being thrown at him. / and, my dear, i wouldn't ask you to fold me in the pages of your favorite book, just the embedment of fingers between my ribs. / how did you get so close that i have to dissect you out from under my skin? / GET CLOSER.]
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