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#one day when ill have my own lil family
todayisafridaynight · 9 months
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I may just be delirious but I kind of feel like there's something there about some of the most traumatic events in Arakawa's life arguably stemming from/being made worse by being loved too much.
Like, Toshio's death, right. The death of a parent is always always going to be traumatic, particularly when your other parent is abusive, but I feel like being there, being the first to the scene, made it so much worse. Especially when it should've been a good memory.
Non-zero chance I'm just projecting because I was there for my own father's death and I was around Arakawa's age at the time, but it's like... it did have very specific life-long effects, didn't it... the way he keeps coming back to Peking duck and talks about it like he's had it before when he can't even bring himself to eat it unless he's with family (and indeed, never did, up until right before he died)...
And then there's his former patriarch. Of course, he seemed to see Arakawa as more of an object--fully under his control and something to be thrown away at the first sign of autonomy. But I feel like, before then, Arakawa must've been his "favorite," if he was willing to arrange a marriage between his daughter and Arakawa. Which I expect is what made his reaction when Arakawa told him he was (technically) having an affair with Akane and wanted out of the family that extreme in going as far as to send men after Akane and Ichiban.
The last one I can immediately think of is not exactly traumatic for him, though it is traumatic For Me so I'm counting it, but it's of course what we were talking about with Jo hesitating so much at the thought of killing Arakawa that he passed up the chance to save him.
I Dunno I Am Delirious but... there's a pattern somewhere in there... Anyway. Uh. "Happy" Father's Day am I right
happy fathers day :]]]]
#snap chats#I HAVE NOTES DOWN HERE AS ALWAYS I PROMISE JUST. no better way to cap off a post with a smile :)#plus yk. i dont have any major notes to add thats not restating but i do enjoy Restating so in the tags we go#also ngl im a lil tired so if im gonna look right silly cause my brains functioning like a bowl of cereal ill do it down here as per usual#totally waited to answer this when its technically fathers day my time and i didnt just stare at a wall#listen if someone has a proejcting problem its me alright. its ok if someone else has a turn at it esp when its within fair grounds 🥴#in any case Yeah.. everyone loves patterns ones a coincidence two's a pattern three should incite murderous intent#i definitely wouldnt call it delirious thinking Thats My Job right LMAO#in all seriousness the importance of at least one positive adult figure in a trouble child's life cannot be understated#im pretty sure i talked bout that already so i wont give the whole lecture again LMAO#in any case its not unreasonable to want to assert love being a theme with arakawa- if not a detriment in some way#it was arakawas intense love for akane that inadvertently fractures their family to be#it was arakawas love for masato that didnt allow him to be harder on him when he should have been and caused both their eventual downfalls#and of course- as mentioned- while not a result of arakawa's own feelings#it was ultimately jo's. //vague hand gesturing// towards arakawa that stopped him from killing him outright#yet jo's love for masato that didnt allow him to lie and go directly behind his back#so yeah love just. works against arakawa unfortunately. an especially sad thing for a troubled child#because as a troubled child that's all you ever really want isnt it- to love and to be loved without worry#so its a cruel irony in that despite arakawa's childhood and general growing-up it didnt stop him from trying to love his family#it makes me wanna throw up (depressed)#in any case i have to stay up a little longer so i can steal water for later SO im gonna be up to uhhhh idk :) Stare At My Wall
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izzy-b-hands · 1 year
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maybe I'll just walk down to the river and have a good long scream. i wont, bc it's still dangerously cold out, but maybe if i imagine it that's close enough
#text post#im tired and i want to actually have fun today or at least not think abt my *** ** **** ******* *****#which i don't really want either i think i just. want things out of my control currently to be different#and the family shit has left me feeling even worse abt them and how they think of me#and my therapist's receptionist suddenly made clear out of the blue they want to wean me off talk therapy#which like i know she's going part time but im only wanting an appt a month or even every other rn#and im still fucking pissed at the fnp bc she's icing me out which is real fucking grown up#like. i did not fucking need anything else rn i was happyish!!!#not even a few days and weeks ago at least for a few hours at a time!!!#and one day goes no actually fuck u dumbass and godspeed and leaves me here trying to figure out#what the fuck i do and where i go from here#and mum will be by after her first day back at work after the hols and that's always a fucking production#in which she monologues to me abt how she's forever a victim and i pat her shoulder and dry her eyes and reassure her she's loved#no matter what bc despite it all she is!! by me a lot!!!#but that said shit like that is what has me so intertwined and understanding of izzy like#it's exhausting when the beams of your own house are rotting but you're spending most of your time#trying to hold up someone u love and depend on quite a fucking bit#and their beams seem to be in much better condition but that doesn't matter bc they still need upkeep#and if she won't do it and others won't do it for themselves then i will bc at least then i feel useful#and after ill do a bitchy lil vent post like this as usual and then pretend i don't mind bc what else can i do#except keep going forward when it's made v clear my life is not currently wholly my own to decide what i do with it#especially if those wants don't benefit ppl close to me#im so fucking tired again yall
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argumentativeaxolotl · 6 months
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Hey hey hey nerds I’m back at it again with some more CARS HUMAN AU HEADCANONS‼️‼️‼️ THIS TIME ITS ANGST 👹👹👹
Lightning McQueen:
- Bro 101% brushes off any concern he has for himself and uses all of that concern and worry that he’d use for himself on other people and his friends. He doesn’t think he really deserves to be cared after and looked after especially with how much of a dick he used to be- hence why he doesn’t care about himself as much anymore(still enough to keep up with his hotshot facade but if there’s actual danger or someone’s actually hurt he’ll ignore himself in favor of that person).
- I feel like this dumbass is an absolute MAGNET for trouble. Like even as a kid. Lil bro would get into trouble and somehow get hurt while being in a rubber room with rats. Him getting hurt all the time likely exasperated all the families that fostered him which would lead to him getting scolded by some of the… rougher families which led to Lightning being very reserved about himself, going back to the first headcanon above this one. He thinks he’s not worth the attention.
- Lightning was on his own as soon as he got to his Freshman year, this being his last foster family. They were pieces of shit and sort of treated him like he wasn’t there or that he was the cause of all their issues. This caused Lightning to lash out more than normal which is when he sort of came up with the persona of Lightning McQueen(the branding came from Harv later down the line). It was like a last line of defense which ended up helping him only for a little while(then radiator springs happened and blah blah blah).
- He was so used to being treated like shit that Harv’s horrendous treatment of him wasn’t a red flag until Mack came into the picture and stood up for him a few times, the truck driver telling Harv to piss off.
Chick Hicks:
- He never finished his education. In my AU I think Chick would have been forced into racing at a young age by his father after his brother’s death. Chick’s father would be so obsessed with one of his kids becoming a great racer, essentially living through that child, that he wouldn’t give two shits in what Chick or his brother would want to do. Chick’s father likely brought Chick to a bunch of races as a kid which led to him missing many many classes and falling behind his peers. This happened in seventh-eighth grade which led to Chick never going to Highschool as he became the next up and coming racer.
- His father was a pile of absolute, burning, human shit. The man would hurt both of his kids- physically and emotionally- while also sort of putting all his own traumas into his kids, living through them and making Chick into him. Young Chick would likely want to make his father proud and would constantly try to adhere to his father’s words and whatever the man said- examples being shit like “crashing is a part of racing” or “give them a little nudge out of the way” or some shit which would lead Chick into the madman we know today.
- His brother was the only positive “adult” figure in his life and his brother tried his damndest to get Chick to not be like their shitty father, yet the brother just wasn’t around long enough. Chick was absolutely fucking devastated when his brother died and didn’t respond to any outside stimuli for at least a week or two. Their father mourned before moving on and suddenly acknowledging Chick, acting like he was his only son.
- Chick is 100% still haunted by the dying light in his brother’s eyes, having watched him die after a horrific crash. Chick never wanted to push cars out of his way, having seeing what it did to his brother, yet something in Chick wouldn’t let him fight against his father’s shitty teachings. Chick can remember every detail of that day and sometimes wishes it was him instead.
Strip Weathers:
- One time when Cal got severely sick, like bedridden for a week sick, Strip got horrific flashbacks to when his mother passed away due to a terminal illness. Strip was so scared and terrified that he spent so much money on doctors alone. Lynda tried to calm him down, telling Strip that it was just a nasty case of the flu or something along those lines, but Strip just couldn’t lose another family member- especially not one he saw as his son.
- Strip wanted to be a doctor so he could help his mother with her illness and so he could try to find a cure so nobody else had to go through what she did. He put in so much effort and tried so hard, conducting research and studying hard so he could become a doctor. Then his mother passed away when he was still in med school, leaving him shattered and blaming himself for somehow not graduating faster. Tex was there for Strip.
- He dropped out of med school in favor of racing since he didn’t think he would be able to continue after his mother passed. He felt useless for a long time, drinking his pain away for a few years- never during a race- until he met Lynda and she helped bring him back to himself.
- After his crash during the tie breaker, he’s felt immense pain in his wrists and shoulders and neither he nor the doctors know why. It’s not killing him but it lingers and sometimes he just can’t move for a while.
Doc Hudson:
- Doc has a similar thing to Strip where after his crash he just had horrendous pain shooting all throughout his limbs and back. He’s not sure what it is, but either way it’s thankfully lessened over the years, now being dull aches or more joint pain than usual whenever it gets colder.
- Sometimes he’ll randomly have a flashback to when he was back in the Hornet or being wheeled to the hospital during/after the crash. Doc never really got over it and stupidly never saw a therapist about this. These flashes often make him feel worse than he already does, leaving him in a shitty mood and grumpy and more than a little scared to get into the Hornet. Over the years, these flashes have gotten less and less to the point where it’s once or twice every couple years at random.
- Him becoming an actual doctor wasn’t because he had so much time on his hands after the crash- also that was part of it- but it was because that was his sister’s dying dream- to become a doctor and help people.
- His older sister passed away sometime before Doc’s crash so when he was still young. She was much older than him- roughly ten-ish year age gap. They were still close.
Thank you for your time lmao now it’s time for me to disappear for like three months again <3 HAPPY HALLOWEEN‼️‼️‼️
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jamneuromain · 4 months
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Hello, beauty! Congrats on your follower milestone 🥳
A prompt for you: Ransom + 😌😏
Hi Siri😌❤️
Thank you for your love and support :3
ksjsjskskskks 😏 ←that lil smirk is so Ransom! Hoe-kay, for this I present to you:
Payback Time
Ransom Drysdale x Reader (you)
Summary: Ransom is getting his payback for you, public enemy No.1.
Warning: Step-cest tendency (Cousin!Ramson x Cousin!Reader), not blood related, they are both grown-ups, Ransom is being vengeful, Harlan is very much alive.
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Harlan is going to kill him.
Not now, obviously, but when Harlan finds out about what he is doing to you.
Harlan is going to murder him and write this story into a book.
But it doesn't matter. Ransom hums in content, snuggling further under the covers, sighing due to the warm and softness of the bedding.
That old man grows fond of you by day, ever since you came to this mansion on your own with a suitcase of books and clothes. Ransom huffs in annoyance. If there's one thing he cannot stand, is a random person (aka you), materializing out of thin air, completely unrelated by blood or marriage, and sets out to snatch a portion of Harlan's property.
According to the old man, you were the daughter of the adoptive child from Harlan's sister. His sister took care of your mother as her own, and before both of them died of illness, Harlan's brother in-law kicked you out of the house. Which is why Harlan's sister called before your arrival, asking her brother to take care of you. While Harlan and his sister wasn't on best terms when she married her husband, Harlan was far too kind and agreed for you to stay as long as you wish, paying off your college loan and medical bills that his brother in-law kicked out of the house along with you.
You are a pre-med student in your junior year, which means getting up early and going to bed late, spending few hours in the mansion. Even so, you manage to find the time, either learning how to take care of Harlan like Marta, or chatting with Harlan and play chess.
Ransom huffs again, not only were you a kiss-ass, but also stupidly quick learner at chess - Harlan asked Ransom to play against you one night, and you won. But only out of sheer dumb beginner's luck.
So, he's getting his payback.
Ransom tightens the thick duvet around his body - his almost naked body, and listens carefully to the soft creaking in the stairs.
He knows it's you, with your cautious steps up the screeching floor, while you don't want to wake any living soul in this house at 11:30 pm, dragging your tired ass - you have a good ass, by the way - up two floors, and rest in the room, which apparently became yours rather than his, even though every family in this house knows this room was originally his, and that Harlan asked Fran to clean up his room, RANSOM'S ROOM, for you, which Harlan announced that it would make you feel more like home if you were not living in one of the guest rooms.
Oh, so Ransom will feel more like home if he lives in one of the guest rooms when he drops by every holiday?
Harlan is probably charmed by you, some voodoo shit, or drugged by that idiot-brain Marta.
He holds his breath and closes his eyes, pretending to be sound asleep, as the door squeaks open, leading to your small gasp.
"Ransom!" You hiss in the smallest voice you manage, "Ransom! What are you doing in my bed?!"
After he yelled at his mother, calling her an "old hag", changed the lock to this room, and cut holes in your sweater, you know he wants his room back.
Not that you intend to sabotage his plans, being a guest in this household, how on earth can you give the room to him when Harlan has specifically told you that he would find a way for Ransom to stop bothering about which room belongs to whom?
"Ransom!" You hiss again, "I can see your body trembling under the covers! I have a class at eight and I need to sleep!"
Smiling brightly, Ransom pulls the cover down, revealing his - almost - naked body.
"Ransom!" You cover your eyes with a squeal, "Are you- Why- You are naked!"
"Come on, Cousin. You wanna tell me that you are not interested in this?" He gestures down his body as if displaying an exhibit. Cocking an eyebrow, he challenges your sanity with every word that comes out of his mouth, "One good fuck in exchange for my room?"
Silence. Dreadful silence fills the room.
Ransom has that annoying smirk up on his lips, looking down at his grey boxers, "...no? Shame." He swings the thick cover back on, muttering to himself, "Okay. Nevermind. I guess I will just ... enjoy this soft cushy bed on my own..."
"Hugh Ransom Drysdale!" You tear the heavy duvet from his body, "GET OUT OF MY BED!"
Okay fine. He looks like a living Adonis with his abs and biceps. So what?
You avoid looking at his God-like body and his eyes, whisper-yelling, "Get off or I swear I will wake up everyone in this house and tell them about how awful you are!"
Ransom yawns, completely oblivious to your weak threat, which he knows it is the last thing you will do - make a fuss about your living condition in front of all these Cold-blooded creatures.
"Ransom!" You huff at his attempt of grabbing the duvet, "If you insist on taking up my bed, at least you can tell me where the empty guest room is."
"Nope." Answers Ransom, popping the "p" between his wickedly seducing lips, "You got two options here. The floor," he points at the small space between the mahogany desk and the four-posters, "or here." He pats on his bed - wait that's your bed! - softly, "With me."
You clutch the edge of your sweater tightly, a small movement that did not missed Ransom's eyes.
"Or good luck finding Franny in this god forsaken house and 'waking up everyone' to tell them about how I mistreated my cousin." Ransom grins, "So, what do you think?"
It doesn't surprise Ransom when you take the duvet completely and roll up some of your clothing for a makeshift pillow on the floor. You are too tired to argue and too scared to disturb a family you barely know.
You turn off the light and lie down on the ground without another word.
... he may have gone a little too far.
His heart skips a beat when he hears a soft sigh of yours. Why should he feel weird about this? You are the one who is about to be part of Harlan's will and snatch Harlan's adoration. Taking up your bed - his bed, whatever whose bed seems childish. It bothers you, sure, but he never wanted for you to sleep on the ground.
Christ, why couldn't you be a kiss-ass for him like how you treat Harlan? That way he'd feel much more comfortable about making you sleep on the cold, hard, creaking floor - ugh!
Ransom cannot bear the thought any longer of you sleeping on the ground, which is why he gets up from the bed, swings his sweater and pants over his shoulders, and kicks your foot condescendingly, "Your bed sucks." Before strolling out of the room, stepping on the staircases loudly so the entire house could hear.
You suck. He thinks, setting foot on the creakiest spot he could find for these wooden planks. And if he cannot sleep at almost 12 o'clock, neither will the rest of the house.
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justmossyall · 10 months
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depression hacks masterpost
these are things that will help with mental illness that aren't 'go outside, drink water, and everything will be fine!!!1!!!11!1!11!' those are good fs but they don't work on their own. these will actually help in one way or another :)
hell yeah let's go
open your windows. the fresh air and sunlight will do you good and it takes like 5 seconds.
go buy some plants, there are like a gazillion that are next to impossible to kill. and don't come at me with 'ohhh I'll probably find a way hahaha" NO. the plants will be so helpful! they produce oxygen, bring nature indoors which psychologically improves your mental state, and they're just nice to look at! you can name them! sculpt and/or paint little pots for them!
STOP LISTENING TO SAD MUSIC. I cannot stress this enough. it just makes things worse. please stop. make a playlist of all your favorite stupid, happy, pump-up songs and listen to them all the time until they get annoying. then repeat!
acquire a gazillion stuffed animals. so much serotonin for such a small price
get a water bottle and put fun stickers on it, and designate that water bottle to be only for water. nothing else goes in it. that way you can drink out of it for kind of a long time before needing to wash it. keep it filled with water and actually drink out of it. drink as much water as you can, all the time.
chew gum! idk why but it works bro. especially watermelon.
hug people and ask people to hug you. hugs are so amazing it's like pure happiness but with the added perk of Deep Pressure. it can be from your friends, family, s/o, whoever.
make sure there's a lot of light in your room. not good to wallow in darkness. put up fairy lights, get fun lamps, light candles, keep your blinds open, etc.
dress like how you want to feel. be colorful, fun, and comfortable. don't wear hoodies, sweatpants and ratty old shoes, I know it's appealing but it's just going to keep you in that depressed state. I like to wear dresses, colorful jeans, graphic tees from 5-Below, combat boots, and lots of funky earrings. (seriously 5-Below is a lifesaver for literally anything!!!) you can get a lot of these things for super cheap - I got a 20 pack of fun earrings like duckies, mushrooms, mini water bottles, etc. for like $11, and a lot of my colorful jeans are like 6 bucks at the thrift store. whatever your style is or whatever you want it to be, work to make that happen. because getting dressed is one of the simplest things you'll do in a day, so why not make the most of it?
doodle. it's fun and simple, and it'll give your hands something to do other than pick at your skin if you do that kind of stuff (see below).
on a similar note, make art!!!!! it doesn't have to be good!!!!!! just make art all the time, as often as you can. write crappy fanfiction. make friendship bracelets. sculpt a funky lil cat. draw your comfort characters. art is so healing and it will do wonders for you. even just like run your hands through a giant bag of beads like I do :P
get fidgets and bring them everywhere with you. this is more of an anxiety/stimming thing for me but I pick at my fingers, lips, pimples, eyebrows, etc., and it hurts a lot and will probably leave scars. fidgets are just amazing. I'm partial to tangles and infinity cubes :) gum and chewelry are good for this as well (for when I bite my fingers/clothes or chew the skin off my lips)
if you find yourself with a whole day with nothing to do and you don't have the energy to get up and do anything, go to the park. bring a blanket, some snacks, and headphones, and just lay there and listen to music. sleep. watch youtube. literally anything you would normally do when you don't have energy, except it's outside in the sun and grass and nature around other people who are doing the same thing! 10/10
get a pet if you can. even just fish, but really a fluffy, snuggly animal is probably best such as a dog or cat. OH MY GOD THEY HELP SO MUCH. ANIMALS ARE MAGIC. I don't think I've ever been sad while holding or petting my grandma's dog. (our family doesn't have one right now lol)
spray perfume/body spray on you. faster and easier than deodorant and it usually smells better
if you're gonna scroll, scroll pinterest. honestly, it's probably best to get rid of things like tiktok and snapchat, but that's kinda unrealistic for most people so I get it <3 pinterest is probably gonna be better than other social media cause it's more creative?? if you know what I mean?? and usually it's reading things and not mindlessly watching videos
if you don't have the energy to do stuff with your hair, put it up in a bun! fast simple and easy. takes like 5 seconds, even for someone with super thick curly hair like me. (or cut it short! but most of us aren't brave enough to do that lol)
eat fruit. sweet and comforting, but healthy!! so much better for you than junk food, and honestly it tastes better most of the time too. I recommend strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, watermelon, and cantaloupe. easy to take with you on the go and sooooo good <333
play calming video games such as animal crossing, minecraft, stardew valley, cats with soup (if you're into mobile games), etc. puzzle games are good too! if you want something more combat-y, I would recommend the zelda games or forager. still chill and mellow but has more combat and story/lore
garden if you can. I know this kind of ties in with having plants in your room, but if you're able and you have the energy, keep a flower and/or vegetable garden. there's something so beautiful in putting your hands in the warm dirt, smelling your freshly-planted flowers, eating sun-infused vegetables that taste infinitely better than store-bought. it's so nice, but I know it's not for everyone so don't worry about it if you don't get around to it <3
sleep in the bus/car on the way to school if you're tired. not a perfect solution but better than falling asleep in class
inhale through your nose, not your mouth. it's better for your lungs and you'll get better air quality that way. it also helps calm you better than mouth breathing, and you can't exactly smell the fresh air through your mouth :P
read. sit down and read a book. carry one with you wherever you go. spend a weekend day in the library with a huge stack of books just reading. it's so calming and helps stimulate your brain. doesn't matter what you read as long as it's making you happy :)
surround yourself with color, not dark drab colors. hang up art and posters on your walls, get bright blankets and pillows, lay out a tiny lil carpet, make bead curtains and string them up on your curtain rod, set out little figurines/sculptures around your room. put color and life everywhere around you, and that will start to seep into your soul.
tea is always good. or if you don't like tea, hot water with lemon juice and honey. basically the same :)
if you ever just don't want to do something, like you just absolutely don't want to get up and do _ thing, think about future you. would they be like "bro thanks so much you really helped me out there" if you did the thing? if yes, then do it, no matter how impossible it seems. you'll thank yourself later.
a statement that is near and dear to my heart: if you feel like everyone hates you, sleep. if you feel like you hate everyone, eat. if you feel like you hate yourself, shower.
NO MORE SU!C!DE JOKES. ever. the end! replace "i'm literally gonna kms" jokes or anything along those lines with "i'm literally gonna flop to the floor" or "i'm literally gonna go ham bananas on this place" or whatever wild bullshit pops into your brain.
watch studio ghibli movies. the most amazing things to ever exist. I have never felt sad while watching a ghibli movie. they are basically the definition of peace.
take a bubble bath!!!!! :D
making your bed helps for some reason??? why, I have no idea. but it does bro
get excited about things. smile when you hear your favorite song. hug your amazon package when it comes in. count down the days until a holiday. laugh with joy when you have an amazing day. it makes things so much better.
an important addition: bring snacks everywhere
that's all for now, lmk if you have anything else to add!!! love you guys, I promise it gets better <3
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ferretwhomst · 8 months
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NICE my post got two notes anyways here's my thoughts on the pines fam handling over/understimulation as a neurodivergent and mentally ill family in my own personal canon
putting this under a readmore again because uhhh as always with my headcanons there's a lot and it'll probably be annoying to scroll thru over and over
if anyone else has any thoughts about this feel free 2 add onto this post <3 <3 <3 would love to hear it!!!!! ^_^
starting off with mabel, obviously she CRAVES stimulation so so badly and is constantly looking for something new to do, to the point where her default state is Slightly Overstimulated. i figure she also struggles with emotional dysregulation (even worse because mabel is literally just a kid and isnt equipped to handle heightened emotions with grace just yet sdfjjds) and she absolutely canNOT be understimulated or else she will explode the ENTIRE state of oregon. however a couple too many unpleasant sounds or textures or tastes at once and her entire day is ruined- well, it's not really, but it sure feels like it at the time. she starts angry crying and hitting things and only really calms down when she is completely separated from whatever was upsetting her or vice versa (her threshold for the amount of overstimulation she can handle before snapping probably lowers Significantly post-weirdmageddon), having waddles with her usually cheers her up a lot quicker though<3
ford is actually similar to her in a few aspects here, he too is running as far away from understimulation as possible, always sitting in his room tinkering with some new invention or running around catching some new creature to occupy himself. (he wasn't always like this! as a kid, between him and stan he was definitely and obviously the more docile one. but as an adult he feels the need to seek stimulation moreso because he needs to distract himself from his constant stream of often unpleasant thoughts) this has the unpleasant side effect of isolating himself from the people around him, but it's not intentional, it's just that busying himself with projects and studying the supernatural is his Default Solution to having nothing to do. it's comfortable for him. he also has the Thing where if he isn't explicitly invited to join someone, he doesn't feel comfortable doing so, even if he really wants to.
dipper and stan are completely different from mabel and ford in that they just. nobody ever told them that understimulation is not the default state of existing for everyone else??? so they just??? Put up with it regularly???? dipper stims frequently without realizing to combat this- clicking/chewing on pens over and over and pacing his room for example, but more often than not it isn't Quite Enough and he doesn't know Why. this is also why dipper's anxiety is So bad- sitting around without making an effort to distract himself from his many thoughts will often get him catastrophizing within minutes (him and ford probably bond over having Too Much Thought Head Full). in fact, if he didn't have mabel around to remind him to have fun and use his time wisely instead of getting stuck inside his own head for hours on end he would probably be a very different and much less emotionally stable person than he is in the show jsdjfjsda
stan doesn't stim very much except when he's genuinely scared or upset, in which case he is cracking his knuckles, gripping onto the closest fabric so hard it almost tears, pulling off his cuticles, picking at scabs etc etc (you can imagine how much he fucked up his skin in the days following both instances of him losing ford). he probably had very different habits when he was a kid though- because come on. stan was totally the poster child for audhd, constantly running around and being loud to satisfy his lil brain. however within a few years certain nd behaviors stop being "cute" to others and instead start attracting a shit ton of ridicule so now his only stims are ones which are inconspicuous and could be passed off as stress habits instead of being a clear sign of neurodivergence- plus he probably ended up developing shittier coping mechanisms while running around for 10 years after getting kicked out. but it's not like he can smoke or drink all the time with the kids (wendy and soos included) around though so his options are kinda limited
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pedropascallme · 5 months
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The Good, the Bad, and the Better
Pairing: gunslinger!Joel Miller x f!Reader
Summary: "You stretched your legs when you got off the train, wondering how so much sitting could make your joints so sore. You had one bag, which was, truthfully, more than enough. You fit your entire life into the handheld leather case, and it felt both freeing and deeply, deeply woeful."
Content: Mentions of death, uuuh US cholera epidemic? gnc!Ellie because I said so. That's all for now. If I missed anything please let me know!
AN: hi I’m trying something new….felt the need to get Joel involved with a sexy lil cowboy AU. Full disclosure this was inspired by @qwimchii and the AMAZING gunslinger!ghost series she’s been writing (go support her work!!). Lmk if you guys want more of this in the future, I have….plans….for this story, to say the least, so treat it as an intro of sorts?
Jefferson Territory (Colorado), September 1847
The executor of your father’s will wore small bifocals, perched gently on the bridge of his nose. You bounced your leg, perhaps unladylike, but it was all you could do to steady your mind in the tight office that smelled of wood and purified alcohol.
You clutched your handkerchief to your chest, fresh out of tears to wring from your eyes and waiting to get the bequeathing over with. With breaths so deep they threatened the lace of your corset, you were able to look up at the executor, who had been kind enough to wait for you to give him the ok to continue.
“Alright, miss?” His voice was nasal, but not condescending. You nodded. “To my daughter, my only child and carrier of my good name, I leave my land in Texas; doing so in the hopes that she will live out her life there, with kin.”
The man stopped reading and looked up at you. That was all he had for you.
You hadn’t been expecting any more. Hadn’t even considered you would be getting any land—an unmarried woman with land, though, was sure to catch the attention of a gentleman, and you’re sure that your father had known that.
“Thank you.” You mumbled to the man, dry lips cracking under the moisture of the tears you had licked up. “Am I meant to sign anything?”
“No, miss.” He seemed sorry for you, and you felt a flare of anger at him in that moment; you were sick of hearing people speak to you so slow and soft, as if the weight of their words would knock you down and bury you along with your parents.
It hadn’t even been one year since the death of your dear mother, the woman who had brought you up like a proper lady, who had taught you your prayers, and the proper way to tie your hair up so that God would smile upon you along with the sweet church-going boy on the ranch next to your own home. Your family had been naïve in thinking that the cholera outbreak wouldn’t reach them in the west. When word first spread in the papers, it was a small number of people in the City of New York; your father was quick to dismiss the cases as God’s wrath upon those who didn’t appreciate the frontier, too busy with their fancy jobs and big-city values to go to church. But your mother fell ill that summer, vomiting and lethargic, and it wasn’t long until you watched the priest say his prayers over her coffin.
You admired your father’s will to keep going, until you didn’t. He kept busy, and you thought he would work himself to death—maybe that’s why he seemed so calm when he got sick, compared to the panic your mother had in her eyes in the days before she died; he knew he wouldn’t be on the mortal plane much longer, soul too deeply intertwined with your mother’s and ready to go where she went even in death.  
So here you sat, in the same mourning clothes you had worn for the past 11 months, listening to this law man explain that he would be taking care of any other business that had to do with your father’s measly estate. You thanked him, giving him a polite curtsey before you exited his office and found your way back onto the street.
You didn’t have much left in Jefferson Territory. You made the short walk back to your family’s home with your head down, ignoring the coaches that passed on their routes and the women who spoke in hushed tones when they saw you walking all by your lonesome. "Poor thing", “just a girl,” “should have been married off sooner.” You wanted to bite back at them, tell them you’d rather die along with your parents than ever abandon your family and run off with some boy just to mother ungrateful children who would in turn run off themselves. You were happy, at least, that your parents had died in your presence; you couldn’t imagine the suffering had you been gone from their home, the pain after being there with them when they took their last breaths was bad enough.
You walked through the door of the house, careful to close the door and lock it how your mother always told you—even without her present, you knew she would appreciate the little things. You appreciated them, too, now, more than you had ever thought you would.
“Auntie?” You called out to your father’s sister, hearing a bustle in the kitchen and smiling for the first time that day; your aunt was a wild woman, never married and never sitting. Her kindness was perhaps the only thing that motivated you to wake up every morning without your parents. You found her kneading dough, moving her whole body over the clay-like clump with a force, upper half covered with flour. “Auntie.”
She turned, noticing you for the first time since you arrived back home. “Welcome home, little one!” She greeted you, and you watched her run a hand over her forehead to combat the sweat running over her eyes, leaving a trail of flour over her brow. “You doing alright?” She turned back to her ball of dough, leaning an elbow into it, anticipating your answer.
You just sighed, pulling up a chair close to her and studying her movements, unsure of how to tell her just how alright you were; it was like you had no emotions left, your heart a husk keeping your body moving with nowhere to go. Not nowhere, maybe.
“I got land in Texas.” You were quiet, and her movements stalled.
“Texas?” She quirked a brow and slapped her hands together, sending flour to stray over her apronless front. “Who got you land in Texas?”
“Papa.”
“Your daddy had land down there?”
You shrugged, “That’s what the lawyer said. Said it’s all mine, now.” You hadn’t yet absorbed the news, unsure of what to do with yourself or your earnings.
“War’s bad, little one,” your aunt huffed, not angrily, but with a concerned look spread over her face, “not much use with Texan land until Mr. Polk can figure out how to appease the folks down south.” You nodded, aware of the conflict and uneager to get anywhere near it. “Still…” Your aunt looked at you now, the black fabric of your dress bunched up over your knees with the specks of white dust she had covered you with.
“Still?” You questioned, feeling a wave of anxiety cross you.
“…Nothing left for you here.” She spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, looking you dead in the eyes.
“You’re here!” You felt trapped, scared, but mostly confused. She of all people would be the only one to condone such an outlandish notion—dropping everything and running off to a war-torn territory away from everything you ever knew—but you had hoped she would appeal to her more realistic side in this particular matter and tell you to forget the whole thing before dinner.
“I’m not staying, little one,” her eyes were pleading, “got my own life, got people in other places to look after.”
You felt tears well in your eyes, appalled that you had any water left in your body to cry out today. “I don’t want to leave…I don’t want you to leave.” You felt yourself begin to cry again.
“I’ll never leave you,” she whispered, the ghost of a smile on her lips, “but I can’t stay in Jefferson Territory…got plans back east.”
“East?” You practically yelled it, offended that she would leave the life your extended family had built in Jefferson Territory despite the unease that churned in your stomach whenever you thought of living out your own life in the same spot you'd known since you could toddle.
“East.” She was calm, balancing your abject terror. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not exactly cut out for…roughin’ it.” She emphasized the last words, using the accent your father had worn so proudly. “I got friends in New York—going out to be with them…it’s safer there, easier.”
You were enraged; the one final person you trusted was abandoning you for a life you couldn’t ever imagine. It was safe here, you were safe here—with her, and your mother, and your father. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not a big city fool like you!” You felt yourself tremble, “I’m sorry you’d rather have it easy than live the life God gave you!” You were seeing red, standing now to lord yourself over her and make her seem as small as you felt. It didn’t work, and she looked at you now like everybody else did—full of pity.
She let you cry, sobs taking over your body and forcing hiccups up your throat. You shouldn’t be mad at her, you realized, couldn’t be mad at her; she was a grown woman, with wants and needs, and maybe someday you would be, too.
“Take me with you.” You pleaded through sniffles, wiping your nose on your sleeve in a move that your mother would have tutted you for. Your aunt stayed silent, placing a hand on your head to smooth over the hair that had come undone in your rage.
“I would,” she explained, “but I don't think you...I don't think you'd enjoy it any more than you enjoy it here. Not now, at least. Not yet." The pity in her eyes faded to reveal the compassion she had for you, and you nodded into her chest when she pulled you into her, acknowledging the truth she had spoken. You wouldn’t know up from down in a place like New York; too many people, too much smoke and noise. You let her hold you for as long as she would, soothed by the hand she combed through your hair and the way her heartbeat thrummed in your ear. Maybe someday.
“We’ll get you a train ticket,” she murmured above you, chin resting on the crown of your head, “I know a fella in Texas—real gentleman, cross my heart—and I know he’ll have a place for you away from all the ruckus.”
“Cross your heart?” You asked her to promise once more.
“Cross my heart, little one.”
~~~
Texas, October 1847
You stretched your legs when you got off the train, wondering how so much sitting could make your joints so sore. You had one bag, which was, truthfully, more than enough. You fit your entire life into the handheld leather case, and it felt both freeing and deeply, deeply woeful.
Your aunt had arranged for her associates (her words) to pick you up, show you around, and help you to your new home, but she hadn’t given you much of a description; you had no idea who you were looking for, or what they might look like. All she had done was give you a name. You felt small, already sweltering in the Texan heat and feeling out of place in your black mourning gown. Maybe it would be ok, given the circumstances, to forego the entire outfit, and simply wear a veil, but you felt that the only thing grounding you was the way you were dressed, the reminder of why you were here in this dusty sand-and-brick station.
You looked around, not minding the jostling of the people passing you to get to where they needed to go. You tried to identify anybody that might look as if they were waiting on a lonesome orphan, but all you saw was a pool of sweaty businessmen and women in large hats.
Attempting to find a map to get the lay of the land, you turned a corner, and collided into the chest of a tan man with long black hair and a hint of a mustache.
“I’m terribly sorry—” You felt yourself go bright red, already a nuisance and you hadn’t been in Texas for all of ten minutes.
“Woah, there,” the stranger tipped his hat down to you, offering a wink and a toothy grin, “no harm done, ma’am.” He patted down the front of his vest, smoothing out any wrinkles that remained from the collision. “Y’look lost.”
“I am lost,” you straightened your posture, trying not to seem so inconsequential compared to those around you, “Um—I’m looking for…Mr. Joel Miller?”
The man in front of you laughed, and he flashed the same toothy grin again. His laugh came from his stomach, and you watched him take his hat off to fan himself after he calmed down.
“Found her, El!” He called over his shoulder and a shorter, much younger boy appeared; he was wearing the same style of hat but was much paler than the man who had yet to introduce himself. His clothing gave away how young he was—that, and he was shorter than you, with a babyface and nary a whisker on his chin. He looked almost feminine up close, and was clearly quite a few years your junior.
“Oh, I’m sorry—you’re Mr. Miller?” You closed the confused ‘o’ of your mouth to form the question.
“No, no no no—I’m Tommy Miller,” he put his hat back on, “Joel’s my brother.” You nodded, trying to appear as though you understood the series of events that were taking place in front of you. What an odd introduction to the people whose care you were in. You had never questioned the company your aunt kept—she had her life, and you had your own, much more conservative one. Still, you began to think that these men had just as little an idea as to what you were doing here as you did. “’N you’re Tess’s girl.”
“I’m her niece,” you clarified, “my parents are dead.” You winced when the words came out, unsure of why you felt the need to share that with a man you had just met. Surely he must have been aware by now, and if he wasn’t, why would he care?
Tommy let out a low whistle in lieu of an apology. “Best get you goin’ then, girly.” He turned on his heel, encouraging you to hurry after him through the crowds. El grabbed your sleeve in a manner that, although gruff, was clearly meant as reassurance.
“Mine are, too,” he spoke softly, and his voice was similarly feminine to his face. When you gave an inquisitory glance at him, he continued, “My parents. They’re dead, too.”
“Oh,” you tried to think of a way to make the subject more lighthearted, aware of how tiring it got to hear constant apologies for something out of everybody’s control, “so you’re not—”
You didn’t even have to finish your sentence; El had anticipated your question from miles off. “Do we look related?”
“Well…no…” You muttered, embarrassed by how obvious the answer was.
“They’re like…well,” the younger boy mulled over everything he could say, but instead placed his arm in yours and laughed, “you’ll see.”
~~~
The ride back to the Miller’s land was long and bumpy—or maybe it just felt that way with Tommy looking back on you and El to ask various questions and soothe any anxieties, though it wasn’t as much help as he had thought it was. You taught El cat’s cradle with a string you had found in the cart, and it amused you for long enough before you switched to cards instead. El was shocked to hear you didn’t know how to play poker, and tried to teach you blackjack before Tommy reprimanded him for trying to corrupt you; you opted for go fish instead.
The cart came to a short stop in front of a rundown shack. There was a horse tied to a post with three feed bags in front of it—the extra two, you assumed, belonged to the two horses pulling the cart you were in.
Tommy helped you down, and you were careful to pat down the front of your dress when your feet touched the ground, not wanting to look unkept in front of new company. El jumped down behind you, making quick strides towards the door of the cabin. You and Tommy followed suit, with the older man taking your arm to lead the way.
When the door opened, El swore. “Jesus H., Joel!” he jumped backwards when a large figure stepped over the threshold and onto the dirt outside, “Scared the hell out of me!”
“Language, young lady.” The man in the doorway was tall, with a chest and shoulders to match his height. He was older than Tommy, and had the salt in his beard and dark hair to show for it. He wore the same hat, but didn’t have a full outfit on, with only the pants of a gentlemen to go with his undershirt and heavy boots.
So this was Joel Miller.
You were so focused on the new addition to the group that you almost didn’t catch what he had said to El—“young lady.” Tommy, still holding your arm, sensed your confusion.
“Well, cover’s blown,” he laughed, and El rolled his eyes. Taking off his hat, you watched thin, curly locks of hair come down to frame his face, and when you looked under the dirt and grime that coated his skin, you saw a little girl.
“El’s short for Ellie,” El laughed, tossing the hat in the air and catching it before walking past Joel to go inside.
You were almost more confused now than you had been.
“Little girl living with two grown men, wearing men’s clothes?” Tommy read the look on your face, trying to offer an explanation, “she’s a natural at bein’ a boy—‘n it draws less questions.” You nodded.
Joel continued to stare at you, and you couldn’t help but feel exposed to him despite your body being covered in the modest dress you had on. He was riddled in scars, and his tan skin flexed under his white undershirt; he looked so masculine, and it frightened and excited you in a way you decided to repress. He strolled over to you, taking slow steps and examining you with dark eyes that looked like honey under the Texan sun. He stopped in front of you, and you let go of Tommy's arm to curtsy, unsure of what else to do under his gaze.
“You’re Tess’s girl.” He said it with more confidence than Tommy had when he found you. Joel didn't bother returning the friendly gestures of introduction you had extended, shifting his weight on his heels and letting his eyes drag over your face.
“I’m her niece.” You clarified as you had at the train station.
“I know, darlin’.” He smirked down at you, and the way it was painted on his face made him look almost predatory. You offered a weak smile in return, hoping he would mistake the blush creeping up your face as a sunburn. He grunted something that sounded like approval.
Joel turned around and walked in after Ellie, leaving you with Tommy.
“Don’t worry,” Tommy took your arm once more, “he’s like that with everyone.”
You didn’t know if you liked that.
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the-masked-artist05 · 5 months
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Lucía Torres
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[How she looks normally]
Lucía is the older sister of Tomás Torres. Her and her brother were raised by their very wealthy parents in the mid 1800s, both parents are no longer alive due to... reasons. Both were corrupt people, and that trait passes onto Luíca and not Tomás.
Lucía was the favorite child of her parents, while Tomás was barely even acknowledged let alone properly cared for by them, mainly being raised by the workmen and maids on his family property.
Due to her preferential treatment by her parents and picking up on their bad behavior, she gained a superiority complex towards her brother and anyone else she deemed lesser than her, be in money or other characteristics. Tomás has disowned his sister both privately and publicly and continues to do so when asked about her.
She didn't live in Blood Moon Lagoon alongside her brother, but lived in a different state entirely. She had her sights on a different town and how to gain from it.
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[How she looks with makeup on]
She is a very wealthy woman thanks to her providing multiple types of industrial jobs to said town she was eyeing. She claimed that this will help the town to develop faster and become more self sufficient... And the town itself did develop in the architecture and monetary value, but the people remained poor and overworked.
She was regarded by the town folk and the occasional aristocrat as "greedy", and "two-faced". They were certainly not wrong.
She wore the fanciest of clothing and covered herself in makeup to "fit in" more with the higher class of society. Where ever people were present, she was wearing it. She wanted everyone to do the work for her as never had to lift a finger to do work growing up.
She felt as if she was on top of the world... until one day, a group of poker themed bounty hunters came knocking at her door.
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[How she looks due to illness]
She was at odds with this group ever since they arrived at the town. They came due to reports of corruption by the families of the workers. The main one in charge, known and the Ace of Spades, was Kathrine Cawthorne. [I'll explain this group, some of it's members and how each member is placed within it.]
To cut a very long story short, the group was able to take her down along with the worker starting a rebellion against her. During this time, her physical condition worsen thanks to an illness. The workers killed her and ended her reign over them. But before she died, she wanted to destroy Kathrine before she herself goes. She aimed at her fellow colleagues, tried to destroy her relationship with the Ace of Hearts, Cassidy [which didn't work on Cassidy's end but Kathrine thinks she hates her] and even tried to take aim her Kathrine's own family. The threat against her loved one failed to go through and Lucía decided of trying to burn her alive in a building right beside the harbour. This unfortunately did cause Kathrine to catch on fire. This led her to run into the harbour to out herself but ended up drowning. [She was promptly revived by Tempus, this process is explained in this post. In summary for her, she ran off thinking her lover and group hated her due to actions she did out of frustration and stress put on by Luíca and was gone for several years until arriving at Blood Moon Lagoon.]
[[Alright! That's Lucía for you! I have some more ideas for her but I don't want to put it out just as yet. This is just a portion of her design [obviously] but I would like to hear what you all think of her design and what I wrote thus far! Doing the research on her was pretty interesting, with the whole makeup and dress and coming up with a design for her sapphire and gold earrings and lil hat thing [the name just slipped my mind ffs.] It was inspired by some Victorian clothing and style, which I believe she would take some dressing aspects from. Thanks for reading and have a good day/night!]]
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Non BL Fan watches Only Friends - Part II (Part I)
Ok. So it turns out that although I had to convince them to watch this show and share some thoughts with me, Neely really committed to the bit and is now enjoying the writing part more than the show. When I first talked to them about this, they said it would take 2/3 weeks to watch all of it. Turns out they watched 9 episodes in 3 days. And they already finish the show by the time this gets posted. So the final part of this will come soon.
So, they wrote a lot about episodes 5 - 9. And I haven't really been able to catch up to them so this time I won't be adding to it. Also, this is gonna be a bit long so if you want more general view of their thoughts on the show so far, skip to the end, to the conclusion. They separated it more or less by character so I'll add titles so it gets easier to read.
Neely's thoughts episodes 5 through 9 Just quick notes first:
It's creepy to me that Top's Halloween costume is a us army uniform 😬 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩
I'm glad Chueam had a little bit more presence, even if just as supporting act.
I’m annoyed at this thing of framing Ray as taking Mew on "a bad path" as if Mew has no agency. Mew just spent ages teasing Top with no sex and in that relationship he had all the agency, and felt able to put his boundaries, but now he can't refuse alcohol and drugs? Ofc it's reactive to what happened, but so is Ray's usage and nobody seems to give him the same credit or patience. That said, Ray is being a lil bitch in his pursuit of Mew and how he reverted into treating Sand with entitlement.
Now longer:
Boston
Boston just keeps one uping himself, at this point he's just going for asshole so at least he's not pretending, and to me, he's on a league of his own; the "girl"boss, gatekeep, gaslight self-made villain of the series. But also, what I realise has been paining me in this portrayal is - and I think this happens in other media with so-called 'sluts' - that there's a difference between being a slut and the very reality of sex addiction as an illness. And media often does this muddled mix of both, where it's not really an addiction in how they show it because often the reality of that is too much to be representing on your average TV, but it's also not being a slut. I just wanna say: sluts are happy most times. Fucking is nice, it's not always a speed-train to self-destruction, it can be about curiosity and playfulness and desire. It can be intimate and caring and genuine, even if it's a one-night stand. Sluts don't so often feel remorse about fucking people, because they are not suddenly controlled by some demonic entity of lust that cannot reject fucking even if it blows away all of their life and surroundings; sluts actively choose to fuck because they want to fuck. AND 7/10 TIMES IT IS NICE! Sluts also are not always ready and willing for actions with anyone - they have tastes and standards and preferences like most people. Boston has rejected 0 people in this show until now, and more often than not he has regretted that sex, or it has been ultimately destructive to him or people he loves, and now he fucks Chueam's brother and very clearly we start the next episode with a strong guilt scene.
I just wouldn't call Boston a slut, he's maybe a sex addict, or using sex for numbing the pain of repressing his sexuality to his dad - in a parallel to how Ray uses substances to numb his own family stuff. Sluts are some of the nicest people I've met, cause also to do that respectfully you do have to have good people skills and empathy, sex is about knowing how to relate so you do get good at...relating in general, even non-sexually. But yeah, my defense of ethical random sex for another time.
Of course there's lots of gay men, especially those who are repressed in some way (like Boston is with his dads campaign and having to hide his sexuality because of it) that end up using sex in this toxic way, as well as for validation, power, a sense of control, or just this detachment that ultimately comes from deep internalised homophobia and a sense of not deserving real intimacy and tenderness and love. Again, I think that's very real within gays - I'd say maybe my experience within western (- socialised) communities, that's often a pattern I notice more in older gays, like 40 on - generations who felt AIDS and criminalization and mortality in a way we cannot begin to imagine. So maybe within a Thai context it's more common that this repression and reaction to repression is still common in younger gay men? I don't know enough about this; I'm also mostly in quite progressive (gender-)queer communities in very out-there European queer centres, so maybe more trad western gays despite generation might feel this. Here, I wouldn't consider this group of friends trad-gays. But again, underlining all my own statements here is that cultural context possibly impacts this reading a lot and I won't pretend to know queer-thai pov.
But that's how I'm justifying this from my angle. Boston's not a slut, we gathered as a council in an emergency meeting and he has surpassed the max levels of regret and guilt and self-destruction we are allowed post-sex on a monthly basis. I'm positioning him as either sex addiction or using sex to numb pain, or both - an addiction grown from his family situation and hiding who he is. I think there's a nice parallel between his story and rays that I'm tentatively enjoying as an audience. Both are very real in the gay world too, I'd say.
Mew
I liked the confrontation scene where Mew played the track during sex. I also liked Mew's very 'meh' revenges - I think it suits the character, felt a bit too much ado about nothing, but while still being cruel. Like the burning of the paper but in a way it didn't actually trigger Top, so it's quite mean and malicious but with no real effect; and the same with Boston where he goes through all the effort of getting that fucking video to confront him and scare him and then just gives it to him, nothing happens, no effect. But still almost genuinely malicious. I think it suits the character, Mew is incredibly beige and non-eventful, a personification of a yawn but with tints of malevolence. Just think of the build up of virginity and the importance giving to losing it, and then uneventfully he looses it in a flash because Top emptied a baggy of coke. He's not concerned with actually doing or not doing a thing, he wields his full power as a character in withholding until he feels he can't withhold anymore, until he will gain more from giving that from holding back, this was proven to me even by how he was initially scared he'd lose Top for being inexperienced at sex, and when he decides to do it, he calls Boston and directly says "i feel like he'll get bored of me if I don't".
I imagine he will do the same with taking Top back; he's gonna extend it as much as he can. He weaponizes this type of power, having something someone else wants, and holding that against them: I think you can see this with Ray, with Top, now with Boston. So I liked his revenge gimmicks as a spectator, and I was glad it avoided us audiences witnessing him forcing Boston to come out; nobody needs to see that ever but let alone in the middle of this chaos, it would be too far on the unhinged scale for me.
Top
I'm still not buying Top. The way he is being acted just comes across so two-faced to me; and I don't know if that's purposefully trying to tell me something or if I have a wrong reading of the actors expressions and gaze.
But Top and his attempts at making amends... I get it, its meant to be sweet and caring towards Mew, but he's still holding on to this toxic controlling side most times. Like at the beginning of the post-break up he's trying to act all sad puppy for Mew but he's also still running away blaming everything for his own mistake instead of taking responsibility, including visiting Boston to blame him and yell at him.
When he comes to give Mew books as apology gift he says "I'm here cause I'm his boyfriend" and I'm like... 👀 Again I think some people might find that sweet but it gives me the ick, it gives me controlling partner, it gives me gaslighting, is toxic - you're broken up, acknowledge your mistake, acknowledge that the person ended things with you, and start making amends from that place.
It also didn't sit well with me that he cuddled Mew when Mew was passed out drunk. Yes cute nice caring to put him in bed and, ok, sure, pass a wet towel on his face and neck if you want, and I can even hold my side-eye and skip a breath at taking his trousers for comfort but.. this person told you almost halfway through a vomit to leave, don't stay and cuddle him as if you're still "boyfriends"; consent for that has been very clearly renounced.
I find him a bit coercive, in this way that is very common in romantic media troupes. Like I'm always on edge when he's on screen cause I feel he could be Joe Goldberg from YOU or something if shown from his perspective (sorry for another netflix comparison). But I'm open to being criticized on that because YOU did just taint my reading of every attempt at more traditional gentlemen romantic character on TV.
Sand
Poor Sand :(
Ok also unnecessary to seek revenge in that way and telling ray about the recording was oh so stupid. He did ultimately caused everyone's chaos without actually being direct about it and in a way that ended up implicating everyone; and he was our most wholesome character, so that didn't pass unnoticed to me but still...
Poor sand :(
I was happy with how quickly and undramatically and genuinely he apologized to Nick and supported Nick and assumed his mistake. Hands down the most genuine principled character in this series in both romantic love and friendship.
Ray
Personally I very very much feel Ray tho. Pursuing this infatuation that is nothing but your own projection after a person has repeatedly rejected you both with and without a partner, both 2 years ago and a few weeks/months ago. - instead of someone you have gotten to know and be intimate with and you're falling for reciprocally. Like been there, it feels stupid and embarrassing to watch, but also, I feel him. To desire this dream you've been feeding in the midst of years of trauma and addiction and feeling aimless in life, he had fed this so so much as if it was his only way out of the cycle, his only salvation, that of course it holds more influence still in him than the very real possibility of mutual love & care with Sand.
We could've had a mature poly maybe, if he is really so adamant of "I can have feelings for two people", but I don't really trust that in his state, and anyway if so, do it with respect. Instead he just drops Sand and goes back to treating him a bit like he is service, or guaranteed, or like he can buy him. The way Sand got into that bath tub after Ray broke his arm and he went to help him recover, baby nooo get out of there cmon.
Also on Ray.. I wanted to point out that while he was with Sand he became so much better as a person, less messy, less entitled, he opened up. But in no way did he stop drinking.
I'm not arguing that drinking that much is a good thing, it definitely isn't good and he should work towards calming it down. but he keeps being blamed for drinking alcohol, and like alcohol is destroying his life, but actually alcohol is more a consequence than a cause (as often is). He was drinking and drunk and doing drugs with Sand, but he was held, and he was relating, cared for, and he was turning out to be a genuinely nice person. Yes I think he could learn how to give better care back to Sand, even in their best moments, but I believe he was on a right path.
The chaos within him returns when the whole Mew infatuation is triggered again. And this makes sense - he drinks because he was always rejected by his family, importantly so, his mother. Mew is a continuation of that rejection, Mew is what his destructive depressive side keeps feeding on to tell himself he is worthless, that he doesn't deserve to be loved, that he will always be rejected. He has deep abandonment and rejection trauma, exacerbated but not started by alcohol. And sadly, he is surrounded by people in their own individualistic, predominantly romantic treadmills, that do not know how to be friends. His main issue is not getting intoxicated by alcohol, is being drowned in a fairly toxic "friend" group. And this is another example of why this show cannot write good relationships that aren't monogamous and romantic, and will always privilege those. Sand is the saving romance to what friendship in this universe will never be powerful enough to heal. And I find this overall message of 1-1 romantic love trumps everything, that is drilled into the essence of this show, deeply problematic. But more on that later.
Nick
Nick..........................
I don't know really. It's too much
It's so delusional poor guy.
It's too much for me to relate I think. I relate to the overwhelmingness of feeling, and I appreciate the representation of a deep feeler in this series and within queers or gays. Like he really said I will sob snort for this boy. But on the grand scheme of: wire-tapping Boston’s car, listening to the recording on what looked like noise canceling headphones, begging for him to stay, messaging and stalking the party... But also - giving Mew the info about AND the name of the person with Boston's sextape? He's so lost, no action he takes has a logic sense in any goal or narrative.
And I think it's cause he's lost between his good ethics and values and his obsessive infatuation for Boston. He's also generally too much of a puppet for everyone, he's lost and deranged for a boy who gave him not only crumbs but a tiny amount of crumbs about to get moldy. I found his fall into heartbreak and desperation so cringe to watch, and I felt really both sad and pity and shame for him - it was almost empathizing at one point cause we all have been played to some extent, but it went too far for me to be able to relate. But I feel for him, and also, I eye-roll for him in equal measure.
Chueam
I'm still disappointed with not getting proper Chueam content, and a story line that doesn't revolve around the messy gays. I would love if we had left the misogynist troupe of the fag-hag in the 90s and early-2000s (I know she's a lesbian, but still), and started treating women and giving them attention and stories, and defining them for themselves over being some balance or moral compass for the men. That would be much more queer, even if she was straight, than whatever this background lesbianism they went for, it's giving Willow in Buffy but set in G-A-Y Late (gay club in London, substitute for your own gay club reference).
Generally, to conclude, and sorry it's so long cause I don't feel like editing:
There's a few things that are becoming quite apparent to me, that I still would love and think it's possible to change a bit, but have little hopes it will.
1) This dude hates sex! (the creator). All the sex in this series has weird dynamics in it, it's like none of them can just fuck. Even the "slut" that is Boston, we are told he fucks around a lot and there's so many guys, but every instance of fucking that we actually are shown or are alluded to on screen, has resulted in something bad. There has been 0 genuine, non-weaponised, non-traumatic, instances of sex in this show, that weren't a part of, or even the start, of a train of terrible consecutive downhill events. Even Virgin Mew's first time is tainted by him using it as coin to get Top to stop doing coke, and also tainted by Top being dishonest just before when they just both said they'd be honest. Sex is a plot point to make everything go to shit in this universe. Let people fuck unharmed!
2) For a queer show, it's really going above and beyond to paint every aspect of queer life that isn't a straight-edge, monogamous, and orientated towards building family and career, as negative. We are meant to feel for poor delusional Nick, because he is trying to save Boston from himself and his proclivity for prostate with a promise of love and monogamy. Top himself is now beginning to assume this role in relation to Mew. We even get a random-ass parallel scene of Jennie the bar owner having a break up with her partner cause she doesn't wanna move in together. Like allow me to ask why we needed this? they were sweet and reliable as side-characters, there were numerous other plot points they could've picked to give them some spotlight, and to shine light on the tribulations of dating as trans, and trusting your partner as trans, which is the closest to a good point I can dig out of that scene. But they went for an explosive argument that equates not wanting to move in together and do a next step in normative romance, as being an issue, as being the only continuation, no other parallel paths to love can exist. There is no future in relationships in this universe that doesn't end in your typical nuclear family constellation. And this is a queer show!!!
3) For a show with "Friends" on the title, and presented in its first episode exposition as about this group of friends, it is very unconcerned with the idea of friendship.
There's a loose connection between some characters but rarely have I seen acts of true friendship. I think Sand and Nick is the best, potentially only, good representation of a healthy friendship with no extra manipulative dynamics, even with the unfortunate tainting with betrayal, the apology and resolution is rooted in a healthy and horizontal and unselfish friendship; Mew supporting Ray when he (almost?) took an overdose in the bath years before is one too; Sand consistently helping Ray could be considered that even though the intentions are muddled with romance; maybe Top now helping Mew we could make an effort to see it as an act of friendship because he told Chueam he wanted to help him even if they don't end up together. Of course Chueam too, but again she's the woman insert to be the balance to the slutty selfish men, the voice of reason on the other side of the scale (I don't feel like going further into the stereotypical gender binarism of this, but...).
I'm scrambling so much for examples that even Boston giving Mew a slight phone pep-talk before he loses his virginity could be considered one in this world of absolute friend scarcity? But it's all a reach. They all have fairly complex histories and including some trauma, and not once have they had a heart-to-heart and tried to help each other through, they base their interactions in moaning about their current - or their pursuits of - romantic relationships, or judging those who are not pursuing them, or have addictions that impact them in finding one.
The occasions of help happen ultimately because people have reached such a desperate state that they need a dramatic intervention; and the fact characters reach this level of desperation shouldn't surprise us, because ultimately all of them lack the foundational support of a good friend group.
And this makes sense with my point 2 above - this show is deeply unconcerned with any type of relationship that isn't 1-on-1 romantic partner love. These folks just happen to share space, almost at random, in their lifelong pursuit of a regular long term partnership that ultimately exists in a contextual friendless void. Which makes me think about the wider context of why they're spending time together and this hostel they're opening for a school project. Of course they were "friends" before, and so we are told, but the moments we experience of them together is one in which they are out together for a reason, for school, and not simply because they love each other and want to hang out. I'd love to see them leave their current partners at home a few more times and just hang out in a bar as pals.
The End
And that's what they wrote until episode 9. Neely already sent me their final thoughts so I'll post them later this week.
Thanks for reading💜
I'll tag some people that left comments last time or reblogged. @doyou000me @respectthepetty @italianpersonwithashippersheart @o-nao-lugar @lurkingshan @heiscomingtomygrave If anyone else wants to get tagged for the final one let me know.
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meggsngrits · 6 months
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╰┈➤ Pairing: [self ship] knight!Momo x princess!Meg ╰┈➤ Summary: This is my contribution to @love-and-lore's Sweater Collab! Meg sneaks out of the castle to watch her new bodyguard, Commander Knight Momo, show off her superior skills against the visiting Todoroki Royals. However, Momo catches Meg despite her disguise. ╰┈➤ Contains: Fantasy/Royal AU (without the racism, sexism, and homophobia), SFW, Lil Bit of Angst, Pre-Established Relationship (so before we get together), Meg Cusses, Sword Fighting, Mention of Blood, Shouto Todoroki is TOO PRETTY. ╰┈➤ Word Count: 4.7K ╰┈➤ Author's Note: I hope "tunic" is a fair substitute for "sweater" LMAO. No matter how hard I tried to make sweater happen, it just didn't make sense in medieval times. (I know I picked the theme for the collab, and should have had some IDEA in mind beforehand, but I really wanted to write for me and Momo! T.T) Special thank you to @scarlettriot who may remember us talking about knight!Momo FOREVER ago and greatly inspired this self ship fic with our rambly discord DMs and @blankexpressions-and-falsefires for beta'ing. Shout out to my moots for telling me to keep going even though I had second thoughts and almost decided to scrap this fic for the event altogether; y'all are real ones. <3
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For over a week, I played nice with the visiting royals to our little kingdom. I did my duties as the first daughter, second born to my family – with a smile nonetheless, which is more than my older brother could usually say of me. I dined with the family, laughed at the stupid jokes our esteemed visitors told, and even danced with some of them during one of the balls we put on to celebrate. What were we celebrating? I haven’t a clue, but I showed up with my corset tied tight and my high heels on like a good little princess.
All in all, I was on my best behavior, thank you very much.
Unfortunately, not being able to misbehave was finally taking its toll on me. When I heard there was to be competition between our knights and a few of the visitors, I knew it would be a prime opportunity for me to sneak out and watch the event alongside the commoners. It was always way more fun to cheer and jeer among our people than to sit in the stands next to stuffy royals, my own family included.
It wasn’t at all because I wanted to give a certain pretty, raven-haired knight-turned-personal-bodyguard my handkerchief for good luck. Nope. Not. At. All.
You see, I couldn’t give her my handkerchief as ‘Princess Meg.’ It would be a scandal. An unmarried royal giving her handkerchief to a knight wasn’t uncommon here. The problem was my dearest older brother sought to give my hand in marriage to a “neighboring kingdom” as a part of a future “treaty agreement.” A neighboring kingdom he had yet to name and a treaty agreement that he didn’t yet need. Because of this, I had to appear completely modest and unattached to the public and visiting royals.
As if I gave a fuck what he or any other royal thought of me. I would do what I pleased. As long as I could keep from getting myself caught, of course. Appearances did matter to me to a certain extent. They had to, as much as I wished they didn’t… But that is a story for another time.
The day of the knights’ sword competition, I set my plan into motion. I easily faked being ill that morning. My handmaiden believed the lie, the sweet thing. She even brought me a medicinal tea and forbade me to get out of the bed. I told her around noon that I wished to nap and not to disturb me. She agreed, of course. The groundwork for my plan had finally been laid. All that was left was to don a disguise, sneak out of my room, and make my way to the tournament grounds just outside of the castle.
Once I was sure my handmaiden wouldn’t come to check on me, I pulled my disguise from the back of my wardrobe: a simple pair of trousers, a cream colored tunic, a pair of worn boots, a brown hooded scarf that was large enough to cover my blond hair and face, and a dark blue cloak that was several seasons old with loose threads at the seams. The extra coverage wouldn’t be amiss as autumn seeped deeper into our afternoons now, cooling off the earth and bringing a chill in the evening. This would be the perfect outfit for blending in with the crowds today.
I also carefully picked out a handkerchief that I could give to a certain knight. It had to be one that would catch her eye, but wouldn’t out me as royalty with quality fabrics or colorful patterns. I also didn’t want her to know it was from me... Call me a coward, but what was I to do when my hand was reserved for some unknown royal that had yet to be named by my brother?
“This one,” I said to myself as I plucked the chosen handkerchief from my dresser drawer. It was a soft pink handkerchief made of cotton. I had embroidered roses along just one of the corners some time ago, a symbol of our kingdom and heritage. It was subtle, and not something one would think twice about if studied closely. I tucked the handkerchief into my cloak then slipped out of my room and quickly made my way out of the castle. 
Once outside, no one spared a look in my direction. I was just a worker on an errand, another passerby, no one of importance to the royal family. My boots clicked along the cobblestone that slowly turned into a sparsely graveled dirt road as I got further from the castle and closer to the town surrounding it. Once there, I easily joined the throngs of people walking toward the corded off grassy expansion where we usually held public events. I would be there just in time to skip the royal introductions.
Excitement bloomed in my chest as I got closer, spying a row of knights with their helmets tucked under their arms. Their armor shined brightly, no doubt polished for the event. I had been right, though; I made it just in time - after all the royal bullshittery. I could hear the beginning of the introductions of our very own royal knight guards, including my most favorite knight of all. I stood up on my tiptoes and spotted her high, dark ponytail perched atop her head at the very beginning of the line of knights. 
I smiled wide behind my hooded scarf. We had only been pushed together recently, but she had dominated my thoughts for quite some time before becoming my personal guard. What used to be small peeks from my window while she trained and soft hello’s shared in quiet hallways were now shared carriage rides to events and lessons in self defense. My little crush on her had only blossomed into more due to her close company. The handkerchief tucked into my cloak suddenly felt heavier than before as I thought about gifting it to her. However, I needed to be closer if I wanted to actually give her my handkerchief. 
I ducked under arms and in between bodies until I was able to get to the front of the crowd and close to the rope cording us all off from the tournament space. I put my hand inside my cloak, touching the little square of fabric tucked safely inside it. I would be ready to wave it toward her when it was her turn to accept a token of good luck from the crowd. 
Suddenly, the voices around me hushed as the announcer’s booming voice commanded all attention to our knights front and center.
“At the top of the Rose Royal Guard, and in the first bracket of the armored combat tournament…” as the announcer paused, she stepped forward, chin held high. “I present Commander Momo Yaoyorozu!”
I and the rest of the crowd cheered loudly, even before her name was finished being called. Momo showed no emotion, keeping her eyes above the crowds’ eager faces. That was just like her, I thought. Anyone else would think she’s cool, calm, collected, and just keeping her head on straight for the competition, but I had come to know better lately.
In the short time I had gotten to know her as my new bodyguard, I learned Momo didn’t like crowds or audiences. She was actually trying to keep her wits about her right now with so many eyes on her. They had expectations of her. Expectations that I knew she would surpass.
As the crowd’s cheers multiplied in volume and excitement, I realized she was coming toward us. Handkerchiefs were being held out toward her, chants of her name from pretty mouths, so eager to have her dark eyes on them, to choose them. I clutched my own handkerchief in my sweaty hand, ready to wave it out front in hopes she’d take mine over the others.
Before I could overcome my nervousness and pull out my handkerchief, Momo’s dark, sharp eyes narrowed on me. Her hesitant steps turned purposeful, approaching toward the rope that held the crowd back.
There was no way she knew it was me, I told myself. Yet, she stopped right in front of me, her brows drawn downward in disapproval. She leaned over the rope, her voice a growl that sent a delightful shiver down my spine.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed? Sick as a dog, I hear.” Her words were harsh but warm, filling me with the opposite of fear or guilt at being caught.
Sneaking out of the castle wasn’t anything new for me. Neither was donning a disguise. But what was new was getting recognized so easily. Who would have known that my new bodyguard would know me no matter what I wore or how I tried to cover my face? When had she even taken the time to memorize my features so closely? The thought alone made my stomach cartwheel.
“How’d you know it was me?” I asked, unable to hide the grin from my voice.
Momo rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushed from the cool autumn air. “Like I could ever forget a face as pretty as yours, your highness.” She added the title under her breath for my ears alone, her eyes darting to those around me.
Her words carried no spite, only bashful honesty, making my stomach flip again. Before I could playfully retort, she leaned in close and whispered, “What are you doing out here without a guard? In disguise, no less?”
“I just wanted to watch!” I whined.
“No. Absolutely not. Not like this. I can’t have you going back to the castle on your own, either. Meet me near the barracks.” Her tone left no room for argument, yet I gave her one anyway.
“Can’t I watch from the stands?” I asked, making my eyes wider, hoping I could charm her into saying “yes.”
But it was for naught. Momo pursed her lips, her eyes darker than before. “And distract me? I think not. Now, please. To the barracks.”
I heaved a loud sigh, earning myself another eye roll from Momo, before I shuffled back through the crowd. The onlookers hadn’t heard much of our conversation, but many of the fair maidens that had hoped to get her attention only cried out her name louder as she walked away from them to head back toward the barracks to meet me.
At the barracks, she quickly assigned one of the other knights to me, a purple-haired elf that she called Tamaki, and gave him instructions to escort me back to the castle. I tried once more to sway her into letting me stay and watch, but she wouldn’t have it. That was fine, though. I had other ways of getting what I wanted.
I watched her walk back onto the field where the introductions for the opposing knights were being called out now. Tamaki turned to me, his eyes on the ground and his expression bashful. Oh, Momo, you couldn’t have picked a better knight for me. I would have him eating out of the palm of my hand in no time.
“Tamaki,” I said his name softly, making his pointed ears turn crimson. Oh, this was going to be too easy. “Can we pleeeease watch just one match before we go back to the castle??”
“I-I don’t know…” Tamaki stuttered, unable to meet my eyes. “Commander Yao–”
“Pretty pleeeease?” I interrupted, batting my eyelashes.
Tamaki’s eyes met mine briefly, focusing on the little motion as his blush spread to his cheeks. “I-I guess it wouldn’t hurt to watch just one–”
“Yes! Thank you, Tamaki!~” I didn’t even let him finish his sentence before I grabbed his hand and began to pull him back toward the field and crowd. He stumbled a bit before following me dutifully, letting me lead him to the roped off stands.
Lucky for us, Momo didn’t notice that I had rejoined the crowd, now with Tamaki as my babysitter. We were just in time for the first sword competition. We found ourselves a near-front row spot again thanks to the crowd parting once they caught sight of Tamaki’s armor. And even luckier for us, Momo was going first, just as I had expected since she was one of the best knights in our kingdom.
The announcer droned on about the rules, but my attention was focused on my gorgeous raven-haired knight. Momo elegantly flipped her ponytail off her shoulder as she adjusted her heavy leather gloves. Across from her was her opponent for this match. My eyes widened as I instantly recognized him as none other than one of our royal visitors, Prince Shouto Todoroki, the youngest of the Todoroki Royals. 
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how handsome Prince Shouto was. His split red and white hair was quite a sight to behold as were his heterochromatic eyes: one like a sparkling blue gem found only in the deepest caverns, and the other a beautiful stormy gray that rivaled my own royal eye color. He garnered quite a lot of attention during the last ball we threw for his family. However, the young prince didn’t seem impressed by the flock of young people attempting to ask him to dance.
I hadn’t personally gotten to know Prince Shouto very well, yet. He reminded me much of the stray cats around the castle: a bit cold and aloof, but could probably be swayed to come near with the right motivation. He had donned his own kingdom’s armor for the match and seemed a bit disinterested in the whole event as he blew a strand of white hair from his face. 
Regardless, Momo seemed intent on treating him like any other opponent. She adjusted her grip on her sword, her eyes taking in Prince Shouto’s stance and the way he held his own sword. She had been an excellent teacher to me during our self defense lessons, so I knew that appraising look of hers all too well. She had to have been biting her tongue to keep from correcting him.
The announcer finally seemed satisfied that the contestants understood the rules and that both were ready for the match to start. He took several steps backward until he was off the chalk-lined combat area. In a booming voice, he called out, “You may begin!”
Without waiting even a second, Momo expertly wielded her sword toward Prince Shouto’s left side who parried her strike with elegance befitting of a royal. I could tell she hadn’t intended to actually strike him, but I was unsure if she was testing the waters with him or simply goading him into taking the match more seriously.
She advanced forward, forcing him to take a step back. A look passed between them, but I couldn’t see well enough to tell what that look could have been. Suddenly, Shouto swung his sword at Momo’s side, mirroring her first move in the match. She grinned as she parried it back harder than necessary, making Shouto stumble slightly.
The crowd roared and cheered while Shouto’s bi-colored brows rose into his hairline. Momo attempted to advance again, but Shouto was ready for her this time. He swung his sword toward her, forcing her to stop and block. Sparks flew as their swords connected, making the crowd become louder and even more boisterous. Shouts of Momo’s name could be heard as she continued to try to push Shouto back. Her goal wasn’t to draw blood in the mock battle, but rather have his boot cross the chalked line instead. 
Prince Shouto wasn’t doing too bad considering who he was up against, but he was struggling against the continuous onslaught in which Momo swung her sword against his. He attempted to push her back with a swing of his own, but she blocked it and used the force of his hit against him. He stumbled once more, his boot inches away from crossing the line of the combat area. Sensing her victory was near, Momo swung her sword harshly toward the young prince. 
Overcome with excitement, I joined the crowd, chanting Momo’s name. A mistake I would come to regret.
As soon as my voice joined in, Momo’s concentration had been broken. Her head turned in my direction, bringing her body with it. Her swing came up short, not landing as intended. Just as her eyes met mine, Prince Shouto took advantage of her momentary lapse in concentration, and his sword swung again. 
Instead of blocking, dodging, or parrying it back, she took the full force of the strike. Luckily, Prince Shouto had only aimed for her leg. His sword hit the outside of her thigh where the metal armor had been kept open to allow for movement. The blade cleanly sliced through the leather covering, leaving behind a trail of crimson. Momo’s face crumpled in pain, and she collapsed onto her uninjured knee.
I can’t tell you what was going through my mind at that moment. One minute I was in the crowd, and the next I was bolting over the rope and sprinting toward Momo. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. I couldn’t hear the shouts around us or even what Momo had said to me when I fell to my knees beside her. All I could see was the blood pouring from the wound on her thigh and the guilt weighing me down like a stone in my gut.
A hand on my shoulder brought me back. Tamaki had been trying to pull me up to my feet, but I hadn’t registered it until this moment. Suddenly, all the sound around me rushed back in, including Momo’s shouts of my name. “Meg! I told you to go back to the castle, did I not?!”
Without giving it a second thought, I tugged at the seams of the bottom of my tunic hard until I ripped a wide scrap of fabric from it. Momo’s eyes widened at the sight of a sliver of my bare skin. She cursed under her breath, and her head swung toward Prince Shouto and Knight Tamaki. 
“Shield her!” she demanded, uncaring that the young royal was well above her station.
It didn’t seem that Prince Shouto had thought it over either as he and Tamaki both jumped immediately to shield me from the crowd behind us. Momo began to lecture me, but I ignored her as I carefully wrapped the makeshift bandage around her thigh, stopping the flow of blood for the moment. 
“Princess, how many times must I tell you to do as I ask? You cannot venture around on your own as you please. It’s dangerous! Are you listening to me? I will wring Tamaki’s neck for allowing you to–”
Satisfied that the bandage would hold until the medics could arrive, I interrupted her mid sentence, my eyes downcast. “I’m sorry.”
Momo inhaled sharply, but another lecture did not follow. She didn’t even say “I told you so.” She was silent as I sat beside her, my hands trembling as I fiddled with the torn edge of my tunic. Her hand reached out for mine, stopping me from tugging at the fraying edges. My eyes slowly rose to meet hers.
I swallowed thickly as I took in her flushed cheeks. Her dark eyes that were normally serious and assessing were instead filled with warmth and held mine steadily. Her fingers interlaced with mine as she said softly,  “That is the first time I think you’ve ever apologized. And meant it.”
My eyes welled with tears, but I refused to let them fall here. Instead I quickly blinked them away. “Even bratty princesses know when they fuck up,” I replied instead and gave her hand a little squeeze. “But I don’t fuck up often so don’t get used to it.”
Momo laughed, a sound that sent a tingle down my spine. Her smile was bright even as the medics finally joined us on the field. I moved away from her so they could lift her between them and help her toward their tents to better assess her injury. I followed behind, Tamaki and Prince Shouto still closely trailing me despite my assurance that my cloak and scarf concealed my identity.
As we all settled into the tent, I sat at Momo’s side with Tamaki remaining at my back, watching the medics work on her closely. I already planned to have my personal healer take care of her, but for now, I just wanted to make sure she was alright. The medics confirmed the wound was only surface level and posed no real harm to Momo, which was a relief.
While I was distracted with the medics finishing her bandage before clearing out of the tent, Prince Shouto came to Momo’s other side, his face carefully neutral as he sat beside her. I should have been angry with him for hurting her, but he was simply doing what the competition had asked for. Or so I thought.
“You were supposed to dodge,” the prince said, his usual cool voice sounding almost annoyed.
I blinked once, twice, three times. How fucking dare he?! Where did he get off talking to anyone like that? I didn’t care that he was a royal! He had just wounded someone I cared about. “What in the f–” I began angrily.
“And you were supposed to practice without me. Your stance has gotten lazy, Sho,” Momo quipped back casually, easily cutting me off before I could finish stringing a load of curses together to hurl at a fellow royal, no doubt saving my hide once again.
“Did my ‘bad’ stance distract you? I thought there was something else - or should I say someone else, much prettier than I - that distracted you.” His eyes left Momo briefly to stare at me, a twinkle of mischief in his gaze. “What’s happened to you, Commander?” Prince Shouto smirked as Momo’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed at him. 
I couldn’t believe this. He smirked… he actually smirked! This was the most amount of personality I had seen from him since he arrived. It seemed the cool young prince had something more to him than just his looks after all.
“We all make mistakes,” Momo replied simply, her eyes remaining on Shouto. I stilled as my heart squeezed uncomfortably. It was most definitely my fault that this had happened in the first place. She would have never gotten hurt if I had just gone back to the castle.
As if she knew I was blaming myself, her hand grabbed mine. A bit of the guilt subsided, but not all of it. Prince Shouto’s eyes followed her hand as it gripped mine, but he said nothing further on the matter. Rather, he ran his hand through his hair and sighed deeply. “I suppose you’re right. Even the best of us trip up every now and then.” One of his brows quirked up in mock amusement, making Momo roll her eyes.
“I wasted my time on training you, that much is for sure,” she said, jabbing a finger at his chest. He brushed her hand away, the move done with familiarity.
I looked between them, the pieces coming together. The little looks they had exchanged during the match, the jokes, how at ease they both were chatting with each other as if they were quarreling siblings… They knew each other!
“Wait, you trained him?” I asked, jerking my thumb at Prince Shouto.
“Of course,” Momo answered. “I train most royalty, even those outside of our kingdom, Your Highness.”
Shouto murmured in agreement, adding begrudgingly. “That she does. No matter how much one does not wish it.”
“Despite your laziness, you are still a fair knight, Sho,” Momo conceded, mocking him right back.
Shouto chuckled, taking her joke in stride. “That is the highest praise you have ever given me, Commander. I really should get back now, though. I’m glad you’re alright.”
Momo waved him off. “Yes, yes. Thank you for checking on me. We will chat later about your lack of sword training, Prince Todoroki.” Momo said, adding his title this time.
He hummed noncommittally rather than answer as he stood. He walked over to my side of Momo’s bed and tugged a familiar square of pink fabric from his sleeve. “I believe you dropped this, Princess Meg.”
I hastily took the handkerchief for his hand and shoved it back into my cloak. With that Prince Shouto bowed to me, a hint of a smile on his face, before he left through the tent flap. As the flap swung back down, Momo turned toward Tamaki who startled behind me at the heated look in her eyes. “Tamaki, I trusted you to take her to the castle. How is it that she’s still here?”
“Commander, I am so sorry–” Tamaki began to profusely apologize but Momo wasn’t having it all.
“I won’t hear any excuses. You disobeyed a direct order.” Her authoritative tone left little wiggle room for him to explain. 
Knowing full well that this whole thing had been my own fault, I quickly cut in. “Please don’t be angry with Tamaki! It’s all my fault. He shouldn’t be in trouble over something that I caused.”
Momo stared at me, her dark eyes looking into mine as she warred inside of herself. Finally, she sighed deeply, and like with Prince Shouto, she waved Tamaki out of the tent. “Out with you. We shall discuss this later. I need to speak to the princess.”
“Yes, Commander. Of course, Commander,” Tamaki spoke quickly as he fisted his hand over his chest as a sign of respect. He then clumsily ducked out of the tent, fleeing back to the barracks.
Once I was sure he was gone, I tried again to explain. “Momo, listen. It truly is my fault. I shouldn’t have dragged Tamaki into my foolishness.”
Momo held up her hand, stopping my plea for Tamaki to go unpunished. “I know. However, he still disobeyed an order, but I promise I will be lenient considering who was involved,” she said as she looked at me pointedly. “It is quite difficult to follow orders when it comes to you. I should know. You’re constantly testing me.”
If not for her gentle smile, I may have taken a bit of offense to her words, but I knew she said them without venom. I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, making my torn tunic ride up over my stomach. Her gaze zeroed in on the bare skin. She leaned over quickly and wrapped my cloak around my front.
“I cannot believe you tore a perfectly fine tunic when the medics were only steps away,” she chastised, her fingers fussing with the buttons there to keep me covered should anyone walk in.
“There was a lot of blood and I panicked,” I murmured bashfully as I lifted my arms away from my chest for her to reach the other buttons along the cloak.
“Hmpf… I suppose we need to add emergency training to your self defense training as well then. You need to learn how to keep a level head during times of crisis, Princess,” she said as she finished the last button.
“I know how to keep a level head. I just seem to lose it when it comes to you,” I confessed quietly, moving to cross my arms again. As I did, the pink handkerchief that Prince Shouto had rescued slipped out of my sleeve.
Momo paused, her retort lost now as she stared at the small piece of fabric. She gently picked it up, smoothing her fingers carefully over the embroidered roses. She knew what the handkerchief was for… But did she have any idea that I had meant to give it to her? Silence settled over us, neither one ready to ask or explain. 
Eventually, she cleared her throat and avoided my eyes as she tucked the pink handkerchief back into my sleeve for me. “We will have to get you a new tunic, Your Highness. Maybe next time you can give your handkerchief to the knight you have your eye on.”
My heart squeezed painfully in my chest. This isn’t how I wanted things to go, but what could I do? Without thinking it through, I grabbed her hand before she could pull away. “Next time, I’ll make sure she gets it.”
Our eyes met, and for just a moment, I think she understood that the handkerchief was meant for her. Her cheeks turned pink as she chose her next words carefully. 
“I think she would like that very much, Your Highness.”
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╰┈➤ ❝Alexa, play SELF SHIP YAOMOMO playlist by meggsNgrits❞ ╰┈┈┈┈➤ ❝Now playing meg's SELF SHIP YAOMOMO playlist❞
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aita-blorbos · 8 months
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AITA for getting angry at the love of my life for bringing me back from the dead?
So I (32M) had a pretty traumatic childhood. My parents and my little sister were killed in front of me through a misunderstanding when I was just 15. Basically they thought my dad was in some shady shit and instead of waiting for a trial or something, they just killed him. Don't worry, when they figured it out I was allowed to extract my own justice. This didn't scar me at all. I'm fine. ANYWAY, fast forward and I'm the all-in-one tutor to the crown princess (12F) and in a weird sexual tension thing with her loyal Knight body guard (35M). Don't tell anyone but I've been in love with him for ages, and though I always knew that he wouldn't love me back bc of his knightly vows of celibacy, I didn't mind. After all the Princess' well being comes first. Well, some crap happened and it turns out!! That 1) he doesn't have a vow of celibacy and was just rebuffing my flirting bc he thought I was just joking around; 2) now we're on the run with a bunch of other folks after a violent overthrow of the kingdom; 3) have been having some comfort sex after an ill advised drunken night; and; 4) thru the process of all this shit going on, Mr Knight has been falling in love with me, too. But he never told me! Genuinely thought he was in it for the amazing comfort sex as we grapple with being displaced and hunted!
Anyway, thru a series of unfortunate events I fucking died. And it was... really nice. Sure I was panicked at first because oh my god the Princess! Mr Knight! Our friends! are they ok? But then I opened my eyes and my family was there and I felt peace for the first time. Truly, the feeling of Home was so lost to me for years that to feel it again this time was so so good. I didn't want to leave.
Except I had too bc Mr Knight shows up and drags me kicking and screaming back up topside because apparently our lil group didn't want me to die and now I'm... this. A Dead Thing. Aside from losing my family again for the second fucking time, I can't FEEL anything!! Pain or pleasure! or remorse or joy or happiness. It's like everything is behind glass when they had all been just in my hands before. The only thing I can rightfully access atm is my anger. And it's far more explosive and far more damaging than it had ever been in life. Just the other day I beat a guy's face in with just my bare fists for trying to kill the Princess. I can still feel his blood on my hands. Under my fingernails. We went to a famous necromancer to figure it out and all he could say is that I Came Back Wrong.
And to top it all off, Mr Knight over here is suddenly spouting platitudes! Like! "I couldn't endure a world without you" and "I love you, I wish I told you sooner, realized it even earlier" and "When all this is said and done, let's away, you and I and finally have peace" and yeah, it's all admittedly very sweet, sure, but all I feel is angry and betrayed! He took my family from me a second time! He threw away his most powerful spell that we'd promised each other we'd use on our Princess (who we BOTH think of as a daughter)!! And to top it all off!! He's asking me constantly what it is he did wrong and if I could ever forgive him! Well, I don't think I can! It has our little group very divided now. Some think I have the right to be this angry, but others think I'm being a little unfair taking it all out on him when it was the whole group's decision to bring me back. Are they right? Am I being the asshole?
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nattikay · 1 year
Text
ok so um. There’s certainly plenty to be said about Way of Water, plenty of lil comments I want to make...but before I can post about any of that (separately), I just need to ramble about Neteyam a little bit. Bear with me. ;_;  (yes, this will be spoilery)
so the idea that Neteyam was going to die had already been pretty prominent in the fandom for several months. At first it seemed to me to be based on nothing but wild speculation for potential sad plot points. But the more and more promotional material came out, the more and more plausible the theory became, much to my dismay. By the time we reached release day, I had already (if reluctantly) resigned myself to thinking that yes, it was probably going to happen. 
And sure enough, it did.
Even going in knowing full well it was extremely likely to happen, even going in having 100% accepted that it was bound to happen and fully expecting it....gosh it still hurt to watch.
I will admit, I did not cry nearly as much as I expected to during this movie. I teared up a bit multiple times, definitely felt the physical heartache plenty, but nothing spilled over. I thought this was kinda weird, given that previously I’d shed tears even over certain shots from the trailer.
When Neteyam died and I absolutely felt my heart breaking in two yet tears still didn’t fall despite the emotional pain I was absolutely in, I realized why: I was just really dehydrated ^^;
see, worried about having to use the bathroom during the long runtime, I’d been very careful to drink as little as possible throughout the day. Well....it technically worked I guess. I certainly didn’t need to go to the bathroom. but it looks like it dried up most of my tears too (maybe not a wholly bad thing given that this was in public, I suppose).
....and yet despite that, DESPITE my dehydration........that ending???? that ending?????? let’s just say I STILL managed to leave the theater with a tearstained face
“bittersweet” is certainly A Word
just
m a n 😭
and I mean. from a writing perspective, I get it. I really do. The “before your birth, after your death” etc theme ran throughout the movie. Using an unrelated character to do it wouldn’t have as strong an emotional impact as using one of the core family. I get it. As a narrative choice, it makes sense.
but from an in-universe/character-pov perspective....gosh golly that hurt. that hurrrrrrrttttt and I don’t know if I’m ok. ngl i legit feel vaguely ill ;_;
My current job is fairly mindless work, so while I’m working my brain can wander. Naturally today my mind was on the fact that I’d been seeing the movie later so of course I thought a lot about it. Like I said earlier, I was already aware of the Neteyam-dies theory (well, no longer a theory I guess) and at that point had accepted it as inevitable, if depressing. I’d been trying to come to terms with it for a while already.
Those who have followed me long enough might know that there’s another movie I like called Wolf Children. It’s a beautiful movie, honestly, one that I appreciate very much, but have only watched a small handful of times because it makes me sob every single time. It’s about a woman who meets a...well, basically a werewolf (except that the transformations are voluntary), they fall in love and have two kids, but right after the birth of the second one the father dies in an accident, leaving the normal-human mother, to raise these two wolf kids on her own. And that’s most of the movie, following the family as the kids grow up until at the end of the movie all three characters go their separate ways. The ending always felt a little bittersweet to me because, even though both children are alive and well living their own lives, the mother is alone again, with only her memories. We saw the whole childhood, that special time as a family unit, and now that period of their lives is over.
That is, essentially, what I was expecting to be done with Neteyam. Watch his whole life, from birth to, well, in his case death. We see the whole thing and then it’s over, no more future with the rest of his family. Which hurts. And yes, that’s...more or less what happened.
While the two scenarios are not perfectly comparable, mentally framing Neteyam’s (then-impending, now-confirmed) death in terms of Wolf Children did actually help me cope with the then-theory. 
I have to remind myself that even though his story is over, and that it ended tragically, that what we saw...wasn’t everything. It was snippets. We saw only very few snippets. For long stretches in between those snippets. For roughly 15 years the Sully family lived more or less in peace. Neteyam had a happy childhood. He lived all that, even though we only saw it so very briefly. I have to remind myself of this, repeatedly.
because even knowing that, watching the tragedy...it’s...it’s hard...
i just...
i just...
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and then that. that ending I--
I just--
my heart is broken, it is aching, i cannot ;_;
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noxexistant · 9 months
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Hiya! this might be really out of the blue but Ive been thinking about mother Delancey recently and like, what do you think happened to her? what do you think her relationship was like with Oscar and Morris if she was ever around?
hi! don’t you worry, i am literally always down to be asked literally anything about the delanceys - and i’m particularly excited about this question, because i do have a lot of thoughts about both of the delanceys’ parents. there’s lots of things i’ve slipped into fics in sort of one-off mentions, but haven’t been able to properly do anything with just yet, but i definitely have a lot of ideas. the topic of the delanceys’ mother interests me a lot, particularly how oscar “i guess he didn’t take care of me” delancey doesn’t mention her once.
cw suicide, mental health issues, abuse, standard my-delanceys stuff
first off, just to establish my basis in my own personal lil universe: ‘delancey’ isn’t their real name. oscar made it up on the spot - based on a nearby signpost - when snyder asked for their family name and he couldn’t stomach saying their father’s. i don’t have a solid idea for their real last name, i believe blaze uses ‘williams’ - i just like it as this clear distinction between the delanceys and their parents. not even a name linking them. harder to trace them, behind the rumours that follow them and race who knows their father’s face only because he saw them kicking it in.
their mother was deeply mentally ill. deeply emotionally absent too, checked out in the face of this clearly volatile relationship the boys had with their father, one which i imagine involved a lot of violence from a very early age. both boys are unwanted, a bastard and a son tying their mother to this man she had to marry to rectify mistakes she’d already made - oscar - and now she’s stuck, she’s here, on this isolated farm with nothing but her awful family to cling to. she ignores the boys being hurt and neglected and mistreated, out of this mixture of self-preservation and her own resentment for them - she hurts them plenty too, on her bad days - and it’s so much easier just to drink and drift. pointless to get involved, defending boys she doesn’t care to defend. her focus is survival, just living one day to the next with whatever she has to do and take and think to cope. she gets a factory job when the farm starts failing and money gets tight, and suddenly she’s gone long hours working too hard rather than sitting for hours listlessly at the dining room table or on the porch, often praying endlessly and muttering hail marys. and then suddenly she’s dead. it’s almost like she was never there in the first place.
i see her having bipolar or something adjacent. something the boys understood as something unpredictable, pushing and pulling her between good days where she’d be absentminded and daydreaming, and bad days where she’d be on a hair trigger to attack them or start screaming over anything they’d done. she’s overworked and overwrought, a woman who needed help and love and never got either, so the boys only ever really knew her as a shell of a person. a ghost of a mother. morris loved her most, desperate for her attention and most likely to get it, albeit just in a brief stroke of his hair he’d struggle not to flinch away from, but oscar resented her. cut all his own desire for her love into pieces and sharpened them into hatred, same as he did for their father.
she killed herself when the boys were still living on the farm, maybe about ten and twelve years old, just a year or so before their father disappeared and they both left for the streets and then the refuge. their father never told them that she killed herself, just came home drunk a few days after the fact and told them she was dead - they assumed it was a factory accident - but wiesel let it slip to oscar years later while spouting cruelty at him. maybe she threw herself from a factory window, from a bridge, into the hudson. it’s a secret oscar keeps fiercely from morris, though he lives terrified that someday wiesel’ll tell morris, drunk and angry and mean, just like he told oscar.
(i also think that jack’s dad killed himself, and it adds a whole other element because Foils.)
oscar thinks a lot about catholic views on suicide and whether ma would’ve made it to heaven, whether pa might. he doesn’t even know if either was baptised, and he’s pretty sure suicide sends you to hell anyhow, but he tries not to think about it. tries not to think about their mother in general, a woman who never did much for them except doom them to being alive and then leave them to it. a sentence she couldn’t even serve herself. he thinks about her whenever he sees the virgin mary, madonna, our lady. he thinks about the prayer cards she kept, and sometimes tore to shreds when she was having episodes. he thinks about her looking on, emotionless, whatever their father was doing. he thinks about her silhouette at the dining table. she was beautiful, beneath everything. morris looks just like her.
morris feels a lot of sympathy for her - or tries to. he searches for answers in his prayers, in his sleepless nights. he wonders if he might’ve done something wrong for her not to love him or oscar. unlike with pa, it’s harder for him to think that his beatings from her weren’t caused by him being bad, deserving it. when oscar spits disparaging words about her, spits on her memory in his bitterest moments - usually when morris brings her up - morris will argue for her. even if it gets him hit just like how she used to hit, a sudden manic burst of anger that leaves him reeling, oscar breathing hard with that fire in his eyes and looking like ma even with all of pa in his face, morris will defend her. try to remember her face and fail, only able to see her silhouetted in lamplight. see her in his own reflection, if he catches himself at the right angle.
if their dad’s a monster loose on the city, she’s a ghost haunting them.
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sashasylva · 2 months
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Midnight and Hate! So you can talk about your lil guys ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
Oh god, thank you. To decide which OC(s) to talk about. Uuuuh. UUUUUH.
For Midnight lets go the trio of Rose, Nix and Basil. All three have nightmares of the nights their lives changed forever, when their families were destroyed and they were torn away from them. All three have limited memories of what happened after that before they were rescued, but suffer from a lot of anxiety and sleepless nights, as well as the fact that theyre at war now and their opponents function in stealth groups and sneak attacks. There often is one awake on watch, but at times two or all three can't sleep. Rose is the most restless of the three, and can partake in unhealthy behavior or enables her paranoia. It's gotten better since the other two were rescued and they become a trio, as they look out for her, and nights where all three snuggle together to rest, even if they cant sleep, are common. As for activities, Rose will sometimes doodle or sketch if she has materials, or write. She has a notebook she takes notes about creatures and enemies they encounter as well, and will draw them if she thinks she can - she's not a super skilled artist, but tries to make her written descriptions vivid and compelling, she looked up to her mother, who was an author, when she was young, and thats one of the few things she remembers from the better times.
Nix, once the second oldest of 9 siblings, feels the need to look after the other two. Physically she's suffered the least out fo the three of them, though emotionally and mentally, she's hurting just as much. She also often spends a lot of time thinking about a better future where they can live safely in the village without worrying about defending it from attacks. She's great at redirecting the others bad thoughts and behaviors into more positive or constructive discussion and activities, but not so great at redirecting her own bad feelings, her survivor's guilt eats at her, and she often buries her own bad feelings in trying to help the others. At least Basil is onto her (theyre both older than Rose, and Rose has a LOT going on mentally and physically), and he tries to be her rock, he tries to be stealthy about it, but hes not subtle at all. She appreciates it, and takes comfort in both Basil and Rose. When she can't sleep sometimes she will sing softly, make plans for the next day or take note of their provisions and supplies while theyre traveling. She will also practice her knife throwing at times, though her accuracy is already scarily perfect.
Basil is seemingly the least affected by his past, but hes hiding it behind a veneer of easygoing nonchalance. He has the least trouble sleeping, but more from the extra exertion and resulting exhaustion he has from using a prosthetic leg, the extra energy needed to function on the level he does with it takes it out of him. Phantom pain can keep him up though, he prefers to be alone when that occurs because his emotional barriers grow thin when hes in pain and he doesnt want the others to see him cry, not because he thinks they'll judge, but because he's frustrated with himself when he tries to be the mood uplifter and moral support, as well as feeling weak. All three feel the need to protect the others. When hes kept awake by other things though, he will often go and practice with his axe a bit away from the others, despite them telling him he needs to rest. Despite the extra energy he exerts, when the mental demons strike he has gone 60+ hours without sleeping, this stresses out Rose and Nix. Rose suffers from nightmares the most, but having the others near and being held by them helps.
For Hate this could be a lot of my characters but Ill just talk about Rose for now rather than introducing someone new, and she has a lot of hate. She was the first to survive the experiementation the enemy side was doing on their captured victims, resulting in her no longer being fully human. Her natural skill was shapeshifting once her magic awoke, with her beast form being a dragon, however normally shifters are either fully human (or whatever origin they are) or fully their beast form, theres no inbetween, but the barrier between those two states was broken down, meaning that her fully human form doesn't exist anymore, she has draconic features even while 'human'. This comes with a lot of complications and lore and stuff I won't go into now, but basically, she's suffered a Lot, and she has a lot of feelings about it. She despises the shadowwalkers in their entirety for doing this to her, and the others she cares about. She hates herself for not being strong enough to stop it from happening in the first place, and for not being strong enough to stop it from happening to others even now. She hates Finch, who is the one specifically who was used to do this to her with their soul manipulation skills, and its complicated because they were being controlled against their will, and later manage to escape and are doing a lot try and rescue as many people from the shadowwalkers as they can now. Finch is the only one with the ability to potentially fix some of the issues Rose has with how unstable their state of being is, and they want to help her, shes hurting a lot even now, but even though rationally she KNOWS Finch is good and on her side now, and wont hurt Finch, but she cant bring herself to trust them or let them anywhere near her. She still hates them. Others tell her shes only hurting herself by doing this, but she doesn't care. She's already using a lot of restraint in simply ignoring Finch, since most of those she deems a threat or enemy and who she hates usually are greeted to a lot more Rage and claws and being violently attacked. Her emotions are volatile and desperate, to the point that shes usually not included in anything diplomatic even though she is an important member of the forces against the shadowwalkers, she's young and if she disagrees with someone discussion quickly breaks down. She knows this is not good and hates this about herself, but she'd rather pick a fight than break down crying. This went on a lot longer than I meant :') thanks for letting me go silly and ramble for a bit. Ive been so hyperfixated on something else for so long I haven't been giving my ocs the attention they deserve, they used to be my hyperfixation for years tho so they have a Lot going on. There's so many of them, Maybe I should start posting about them... idk. Maybe this isn't the blog for it but it would be fun if people knew about them even a little for asks like this and stuff, so specific characters can be asked about. wah.
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crimson-chaser · 8 months
Text
You guys ain't ready for the Spiderverse! Shawn AU I have...
SO IMA TELL YOU 'BOUT IT 🙈
Okay so this all started because I had seen some of the fanart of the newer cast as spiderman/spidermen(idk what the plural term would be) and since I am obsessed with Shawn I started thinking of a Spider version of him. An then the ideas started 😈.
Shawn's Universe
Shawn's universe is infested an crowded with thee Un-dead species. That's where His phobia come's in, When he is traveling other universe or needed somewhere other then his normal world he's always turning his head an constantly Checking the surrounding areas incase of a surprise Zombie attack that could come out of nowhere.
When suggested to go to Shawn's universe he tries to re-direct them somewhere else an explain how "zombies will eat their brains out". That's why everyone in the spider community thinks he's crazy, He usually just give's up an let's them see the true hell that he has to deal with.
After that they never ask again...
Canon Event
(tw for blood an death)
He had heard of 'canon events' happening but he never really could believe that anything WORSE could happen to him when he was basically walking through a living hell-zone every time he had to step out of his underground bunker.
but it got MUCH worse.
After sometime of being an getting used to the fact that he was now spiderman. That meant he would be off doing whatever he was assigned to do way more often, One day of his life, that's all it took,
one day to mess shit up.
He was sent off to fight in a different universe because some of the others were too hurt to continue the fight against the overly powered villains. Though he couldn't help but feel like something was off, an not like his usual paranoia, it was like a tingling feeling in his mind that would not let go of, and he's good at letting go of things, because "you can't trust anyone or anything in the zombie apocalypse".
Once he had got all healed an bandaged, he sped back into his own familiar world with the tingling feeling still there, It had gotten more intense each moment he wasn't speeding back to his home.
When he'd gotten back to the bunker he found blood on the doorway of the place, he thought it was weird but just pushed it off saying it was probably some 'brain dead zombies' trying to break in.
he called out to his family expecting his usual responses back, the "hey honey" from his mother or the nonchalant "Wazzup" from his sister, he started panicking thinking of the worst. An sadly it was true
he had walked through thee entire bunker over three times in a panic wondering where his family could be. he reached back into the main living space to finally discover a yellow post-it note sticking on the kitchen table with rushed messy but readable hand-writing
"Hey bro just wanted to tell you that a hoard came after us an we had to scram, mom an dad did not make it, an I'm taking the rest somewhere safe, I am not sure if ill see you again so this is my final goodbye, bye lil bro, love you <3
-Val"
this is it.
this is thee event he was expecting.
he knew if hoards were capable of breaking in the bunker he couldn't stay there, so he knew what he had to do.
he grabbed everything he needed an shoved it in a strapped bag an headed out the door to find his uncle's bunker.
when he got to his other relatives bunker he started to think of why She didn't just bring the kids there.
----------------------------------------------
OMG IM ACTUALLY IN LOVE WITH THIS AU NOT GONNA LIE, SHOULD I MAKE A PART TWO CAUSE I HAVE SO MANY MORE IDEAS!!!
I ALSO HAVE HEAD CANONS ABOUT THIS LIKE AHHHH
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ticklish-n-stuff · 2 years
Note
maybe someone notices shouto isn't having too good of a day, maybe his mood is a little off? There could be a reason as to why he's upset, or it can just be a day he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and whoever it is that noticed chooses to try and cheer him up!
Or, it can be right after them going after Mr. Smiley takes place, izuku and katsuki talking about the quirk and how embarrassing it might've been, while shouto mentions how it wasn't so difficult to hold back his own laughter. Katsuki could probably make up a 'challenge' for shouto keeping quiet while being tickled and izuku probably helps?
I'm not sure if you like either of those, but that's what can't to mind for me :)
- 🕷️
Comforting touch
Ahhh anon tysm for sending these in! Both these prompts are so nice, but for now I'll be sticking with the first one. I still feel pretty bleh from surgery and comfort tickles are exactly what I need rn. But I'll definitely write another fic for that 2nd prompt when I feel better, it sounds so fun and chaotic lol!
For the ler I'm gonna go with Izuku 'cause... idk I'm fond of the 'lil broccoli lol
This is my first MHA fic so please go easy on me akdjsujdksjdjs
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Shoto x Izuku (interpret as you wish)
Lee: Shoto
Ler: Izuku
Warnings: Tickles! Slight angst maybe??
___________________________________________
It was currently the weekend, which means that the students from U.A. High finally had a bit of free time before going back to their usual routine. Most of them used this opportunity to partake in whatever hobbies/activities they enjoyed, or to simply catch up with friends and family. Well...everyone but one of them.
It was around 12 pm, Izuku noticed that Shoto never went downstairs to get breakfast. Actually... he hasn't seen him leave him room at all. Was he feeling ill? Maybe he should go check on him, just in case. He probably hasn't eaten anything yet, so Izuku prepared him some cold soba and went up to his room. The greennette gently knocked on his bedroom door "Hey Todoroki, it's me. I brought you some food, can I come in?". But there was no response. Izuku tried fiddeling with the doorknob and to his surprise it was unlocked. "I'm letting myself in. Hope you don't mind" announced the freckled guy as he made his way inside Shoto's room. "Hey Shoto, what are you- Shoto! Are you okay?!" Izuku panicked a bit when he saw his friend curled up into a ball on his bed, while wearing a sad expression on his face.
Izuku put the bowl of food on a nearby desk and quickly made his way to sit next to Todoroki. He tried to comfort the bicolored haired male by soothingly rubbing his back. Shoto let out a sigh of relief at the comforting touch, he really needed it in that moment. Once he felt a bit more relaxed, Todoroki turned over to face the greennette. Izuku looked down at him with a soft smile "How are you feeling?".
"Better... thanks for coming..".
"No problem. So uhh... do you wanna talk about what happened? It's okay if you don't want to!" Izuku was such a nervous wreck when it came to comforting people, he didn't want to accidentally make them feel worse. Even so, Shoto felt a deep connection with him, so he didn't mind being more open with him.
"I don't know... I just can't seem to get out of bed today" responded Todoroki with a slightly dejected look in his eyes.
"I see... is there anything I could do to help?".
Shoto perked up his head at Izuku's question, he did know of something that could cheer him up but it was a bit embarrassing. A soft blush started to form across his cheeks, it was very uncharacteristic of him to get flustered so easily. Izuku noticed how shy the other was being "Did you have something in mind?".
"Yeah but it's a bit silly..." said Todoroki as he tried to avert his gaze.
Izuku's mind started racing with all the possibilities of what Todoroki could be thinking about. He was lost in thought for a bit, rambling away as he usually does. It was normal for him to be like that so Shoto didn't even question him. And then it hit him. A mischevious smirk overtook Izuku's lips as Shoto's blush grew deeper, looks like he figured it out. "If you wanted to be tickled you could've just said so~" said the greennette in a teasy tone as he lightly poked at the taller one's stomach.
Todoroki let out a startled gasp, wrapping his arms around his tummy as he curled up once more. Izuku giggled in endearment as he started to softly scribble up his back. "C'mon Shoto, laugh it all out!".
Poor Shoto shook with laughter as he tried to compress his giggles, an occassional squeak making it's way out his lips. Izuku then wiggled his fingers along the back of Shoto's neck and that's when the dam broke. "Pfft! M-Midoriya nohoho!" he tried scrunching up his shoulders to protect his sensitive neck but then Izuku moved down to his sides, lightly poking and pinching at them. "Ack-! Nahat thahahat!" he giggled out cutely as he tried to gently swat away Izuku's hands. The greennette took the opportunity to pin Shoto's wrists above his head.
The bicolored haired male blushed harder, his scar getting lost in the red hue of his face. He struggled a bit in the shorter one's grasp only to slump down in defeat. A wobbly smile overtaking his lips as he watched Izuku's free hand get closer to his tummy.
"Are you ready~?" asked the tickler with a teasy smirk on his face. Silly Shoto couldn't help but let out nervous giggles as he softly nodded his head. "Good!" and just like that, Izuku started to gently vibrate his clawed hand against Shoto's tummy.
"GYAH! IZUKU NAHAHAHAHA!" Todoroki threw his head back in laughter as he softly kicked his legs out, his tummy was one of his worst spots after all.
The broccoli head giggled as he lightly scratched at the ticklish tummy "Ahh tiiickle tickle tickle~".
"PFFT! AHAHAHAHA! D-DOHON'T SAY THAHAT!" Todoroki squeezed his eyes shut as his nose scrunched up slightly, with a big dorky grin plastered on his face.
"Don't say what? Tickle tickle~?" Izuku giggled when Shoto let out a flustered squeal at the tease.
"HAHAHAHA! ST-STAHAHAP PLEHEASE!".
Izuku quickly stopped his tickly torment, letting go of his wrists. He opted to lightly rub Todoroki's tummy while he tried to calm down his giggles. It was pretty cute how he struggled to talk while giggling all cutely. "Ehehehe..! T-thahanks for thahat..!".
"No problem! Next time you're feeling upset you can come talk to me" Midoriya offered him a bright smile, Todoroki couldn't help but softly smile back at him. He was glad he had a friend like him.
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I feel like this ended up being pretty cute~! It was also a lot of fun to write!
If anyone would like to see more MHA fics feel free to send me reqs. with whatever characters you want :]
Idk why but I suddenly remember that scene where Shoto goes 'my name is not 5 weenies' xD
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