Tumgik
#he’s still in survival mode from their childhood
hoeforcheol · 10 months
Text
The one day I need silence and relaxation and her dumbass brother has to come home early and start gassing the house with fucking onions
1 note · View note
aethon-recs · 10 months
Text
Tomarrymort Advanced Pack – 12 Longfic Recs
If you’ve made your way through the Tomarrymort Starter Pack and Intermediate Pack reads, here are 12 beautifully written, timeless fics that are Tomarrymort on hard mode for when you’re ready to dive into something that will really challenge your every reading muscle. This selection of fics features some of the most skilled writing I’ve come across in the entire fandom, and I love how these authors tackle incredibly complex subject matter and plotlines and characterization choices with such bold and unflinching perspectives.
Please mind all tags (including CCNTW, explained here) as you may find some themes within some of these fics difficult or challenging to read for a variety of reasons.
This is Part 3 of a 3-part series (see here for Part 1 and Part 2). I hope you get as much enjoyment from reading these additional 3.1 million words of incredible Tomarrymort longfic as I have!
Tumblr media
*
Tomarrymort Advanced Reads
ǟʟʍǟɢɛֆȶ by eldritcher (M, 134k, complete)
Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry and Dumbledore team up with Voldemort to save the magical world from a catastrophic threat. Why I rec it: Eldritcher delivers one of the most epic love stories of a lifetime — with Harry and Voldemort surviving a trip to the moon and back, and Harry’s love for Voldemort transcending time and space after Voldemort makes the ultimate sacrifice to save the world and, against all odds, return to Harry. The prose is absolutely transcendent — amongst the best I’ve encountered not only in fanfic, but in all of fiction I’ve ever read. I can’t say enough about how much I love Elditcher’s writing style and how beautifully the story unfolds — there’s a very nice lyrical rhythm underlying all the sentence structure and word choice in the fic that flows like nothing else I’ve read before.
Anabiosis by @itsevanffs (E, 32k, WIP)
Setting: Canon Divergence Pre-Book 1 Premise: If Voldemort resurrects early and takes a teaching job at Harry’s primary school. Why I rec it: This is one of the best and most realistic and gutting depictions I’ve ever read of the quiet tragedy of Harry’s pre-Hogwarts years growing up experiencing severe neglect and an absence of love throughout his entire childhood. @itsevanffs did a magnificent job of capturing Harry’s limited POV and all the fluttering hope his still-trusting heart holds when he meets Mr Riddle, the first teacher who’s ever treated him with kindness. My heart ached so much for Harry throughout this fic, and the emotional arc in this story has continued to haunt me for a very long time afterwards.
Eight Days a Week by @vestiges-of-light (E, 802k, complete)
Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 7 Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry shortly after his sixth year, which leads to an unlikely truce and eventual partnership that ends up saving the magical world. Why I rec it: This fic combines a sprawling political epic with an incredibly extensive exploration of kink. The author asks a great question in the tags: "Why is only vanilla sex literary?" — and this fic does a fantastic job of proving that messy, filthy, raw sex scenes don’t have to be made sanitized or palatable for mainstream consumption in order to have just as much of a place in a plot-driven, serious longfic as vanilla sex does. Against the high-stakes backdrop of international political intrigue, there’s a very nice domesticity to Harry and Voldemort’s relationship, and how much they trust each other and can be stripped bare and vulnerable in front of each other is very poignant and touching to read about.
Embryo by @cannibalinc (NR, 28k, WIP)
Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If mysterious new transfer student Harry appears in Tom’s sixth year in a state of near complete amnesia. Why I rec it: One of the defining character traits of Tom Riddle is that he’s an absolute genius — the most talented academic mind to ever walk through the doors of Hogwarts — and this fic absolutely delivers on that aspect. Told from Tom’s POV, this fic is like reading a complex multidisciplinary text spanning philosophy and physics and mathematics and magical theory, all interconnected by the mystery of how Harry appeared and where he came from and why he is so utterly forgettable to everyone but Tom.
found by @honbug (E, 112k, WIP)
Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Tom grows up in a world with no magic, but has had strange recurring dreams his whole life — dreams of a boy with green eyes and a scar, dreams of a dark graveyard and magical snakes and other mysterious things. Why I rec it: The character work done in this fic is absolutely breathtaking — one of the best character studies of Tom Riddle I’ve ever come across. This is a Tom who grew up without magic, but is no less cold and vicious and psychopathic and teetering on the edge of madness. The story arc follows Tom from his early childhood through his rise as a ruthless leader in an organized crime syndicate not unlike the Death Eaters — all the while that he’s haunted by dreams of Harry, his Harry, even as the dreams start to drive him to the brink of insanity.
how large the teeth by MaidenMotherCrone (E, 257k, complete)
Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Harry grows up as an outcast in a world where Grindelwald and Voldemort have already won long before he is born, but he’s still the subject of a prophecy that designates him as their world’s savior. Why I rec it: The worldbuilding is so exquisite and complex in this fic — the author did a spectacular job at completely reimagining the wizarding world from the ground up if the Dark Lord were to win a long time ago and how their extremely inequitable society would subsequently be structured. Harry’s defiance throughout is lovely, and his growing entanglement with Voldemort adds to all the high-stakes and risky moves that he makes throughout the fic. The plotline is very action-packed — a lot of complex plot threads are interwoven throughout the story, with an undercurrent of revolution and discontent simmering under the surface until it explodes in a glorious finale.
In Willing Sacrifice by @hikarimeroperiddle (M, 1,197k, WIP)
Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 4 Premise: If Harry finds Voldemort in Riddle Manor the summer before his fourth year, and enters into an unlikely alliance with him before returning to school that year. Why I rec it: This fic covers so much ground — at 1.2 million words (so far!), it’s the most detailed rewrite of canon starting from book 4 that I’ve ever come across, weaving in plenty of magical theory and political intrigue as Voldemort takes Harry under his protection initially in a mentor capacity. The relationship between Harry and Voldemort unfolds in such a beautiful way in this fic — with Harry growing to fall in love with Voldemort, despite all of Voldemort’s murderous and violent qualities, without losing an ounce of his humanity or the inherent goodness inside of his heart along the way.
Lover's Spit by @pinktom, @k3uuu (E, 88k, WIP)
Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Harry and Tom grow up in a small town together in northern England, and Tom has harbored an obsession for Harry ever since primary school. Why I rec it: An absolutely stunning coming-of-age story set in modern times. This story is striking in so many different ways. It perfectly captures the voice of fringe internet communities in such an authentic way. It also poignantly captures the social isolation and erosion of privacy from living in a small town where gossip spreads like wildfire, and how the internet amplifies these dynamics. At the core of the story is a really sweet love story between Tom and Harry that I am literally obsessed with — every single one of their interactions is so tender and pure — and it’s such a startling contrast to how Tom’s internet persona is portrayed that makes the sweetness all the more heartfelt.
Mi Aedijekit by @kitastrophea (M, 282k, WIP)
Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry is captured by Voldemort and placed under the Draught of Living Death, only to awaken in the far future where Voldemort has ruled over their world for over a thousand years. Why I rec it: A linguistic and sociological tour de force. When Harry wakes up from his magical coma over a thousand years into the future, the world has been entirely transformed, and the skill and effort that the author undertook in fleshing out a society where there’s been a thousand years of cultural change and evolution in language can’t be understated. One of the most unique and fun aspects of the story is learning the new vocabulary of the future alongside Harry for the first time. I love how the fic examines how even Voldemort gets bored with immortality after a millennia of ruling — and how, even with a thousand years separating them and memories of the earlier times scattered to the wind, Harry and Voldemort are still inextricably drawn together.
Of Kings, Of Pawns, and Of Men by @ambivalens999 (E, 129k, WIP)
Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 5 Premise: If Voldemort ends up in Harry’s body and Harry ends up in Tom Riddle’s body after a bad encounter with the dementors at the beginning of book 5, and they can’t figure out how to swap back. Why I rec it: This is such an interesting take on the bodyswap trope, which is given a very serious and plotty treatment here. For fear of the safety of his friends, Harry has to go along with returning to his 5th year at Hogwarts in Tom Riddle’s body and being sorted into Slytherin house, while Tom passes himself off as Harry Potter. There’s a mystery behind the depth of Tom’s knowledge and familiarity with Harry, as he knows more about Harry than even Voldemort should. Is it the scar horcrux? Is it Voldemort? Is it something else entirely? The inherent combativeness and magnetism between Harry and Tom keep the tension high as they push each other’s buttons and circle around each other like wolves trying to establish dominance.
Phobia by @katsitting (E, 48k, complete)
Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry and brutally tortures him to the point of breaking. Why I rec it: This fic does not sugarcoat Voldemort’s capacity for cruelty and sadism in any way, and I admire the author’s commitment to depicting the most horrific of scenarios. Having read countless fics with this setup, I’ll be honest, the depiction in this fic is probably the most likely outcome of any Voldemort-captures-Harry scenario. They do not fall in love. It is not a fun time for Harry. There is gore; there is brutal prisoner torture; there is extremely extensive non-con. I found it very raw and unvarnished — not an easy read, but a very memorable and evocative one. And yet, despite the themes of darkness explored in this fic, it ends on a note of hope.
The Foul (part 1) / The Great (part 2) by @meles-merrivale (M, 24k, complete)
Setting: Time Travel Premise: If Harry gets thrown back in time a thousand years into the past, and does whatever it takes to stay alive until he can meet up with Voldemort again. Why I rec it: This is a fantastic depiction of the slow descent into madness following a disastrous time travel accident and what a thousand years of immortality does to one’s sanity. It’s also a great exploration of the time travel paradox and whether anyone has the power to change the past, or if pivotal historical events are, by their very nature, predetermined. By the time Harry encounters Voldemort again, he is a shell of the person he used to be, but gradually, he finds more of his original humanity and spark for life the more his relationship with Voldemort progresses.
*
577 notes · View notes
ishcliff · 6 months
Text
i don't think heathcliff is an idiot at all. not in his source, nor in limbus.
in limbus, heathcliff keeps things direct and to the point, and dislikes spending a lot of time dwelling on what to do. none of these alone are indicators of a lack of intelligence. impatience and impulsivity, sure, i can concede. but with heathcliff, what i think is even more the case is he already feels like he understands the world well-enough. he's spent a lifetime living, both in the best and worst of the city. he offers insight in moments where the other sinners have little to offer. in a lot of ways, he is deeply comparable to roland, except (funnily enough) perhaps a little healthier.
despite his contempt for authority, heathcliff has accepted his role and the unspoken laws of the land, being witness to and on the receiving end of what happens when one goes against them. he seems to understand the whims of the city for what they are and can follow them intuitively. though, his knowledge is entirely practical; the theoretical and reasoning behind everything matters little to him, because the way he sees it, as long as he can continue to do as he pleases, it's of no consequence. he is in constant survival mode, seeking the rare moments where he is allowed to thrive.
his knowledge base is given ample time to shine in the main story. he is often positioned as a voice of reason and an appeal to the majority.
in canto II, he comes up with a plan that essentially works flawlessly when no one else could.
in canto III, he correctly points out ishmael's lack of comprehension of social stratification in the nest entry point. then, he rightly calls out meursault for his aiding and abetting of a religious-fascist regime.
in canto IV, he's proven correct about his critique of certain mindsets of the K nest, and his insight and cleverness are recognized by more than one person (importantly, including ishmael, his biggest critic).
he is just as intelligent and capable as everyone else; he simply doesn't care about the bigger picture. it's not like the bigger picture cares about him.
and yet...another point on the more superficial side: heathcliff has an identity where he is a capable, well-spoken scientist and political activist. while his political standpoint is reactionary anarchoprimitivism, it still matters that he's clearly capable of analyzing greater social class structures and realizing they are bunk.
this leads me to discussion of heathcliff in wuthering heights. i don't think it can be overstated how much of heathcliff's capabilities as an antagonist post-timeskip are due to his intelligence. in just three years, he cultivates enough wealth through what is assumed to be key-timed investments and intelligent brokerage. he makes a name for himself despite lacking even a proper surname. through his influence, knowledge, and cold determination, heathcliff decimates two families and claims their estates for himself. this is all in spite of the way he was forced out of school when he was a preteen and into slavery. the danger of heathcliff is not just in the depths of his cruelty, but his calculating nature and ability to chart out a years-long revenge campaign with contingency plans. and he almost entirely succeeded.
tying back a little to the context of limbus company, heathcliff's backstory has been heavily implied to be mostly similar to his childhood in his source material. in summary, he was raised under constant scrutiny under threat of beatings and/or losing the only person he ever cared about. every single one of his actions and assumed mindsets were called into question, and this is something he later internalized against himself.
i've talked about it on this blog before, but i believe one of the most important elements of heathcliff's childhood in wuthering heights for his characterization in limbus company is when he instinctively saved the life of his abuser's child. heathcliff swooped in and saved the child from a fatal fall without hesitation or thought. it's his nature to follow his heart and do what he believes the right thing to be. however, heathcliff realized a moment later that he had just done a good thing for his abuser, thus further distancing himself from catherine. he second-guesses his own instincts and is filled with transparent hatred and regret.
this is also related to his conflict with catherine and other social systems at large. catherine obsesses over her status and dwells on the ramifications of a union with heathcliff. heathcliff, however, loves her and believes that to be more important than everything else. her disagreement and casual disregard for his personhood in favor of her ability to get everything she wants pushes him out of the estate to begin with.
in limbus company, however? heathcliff doesn't have the dynamic with his abuser looming over him, nor any implications of threats to his status (beyond vergilius, but at least that isn't personal). he doesn't have to second-guess himself for the sake of his survival and getting what he wants anymore. in canto IV, those very instincts save gregor's life. he can just do what he wants, and even if he messes up and dies, he can just immediately be brought back to life with no consequences. he is freer now than he's ever been in his entire life, and he knows better than everyone the joys of not needing to overthink every single thing he does.
so no, heathcliff is not an idiot. i speculate he's just gotten a taste of freedom he's rarely known and he is relishing it.
295 notes · View notes
Text
Butterfly II
Tumblr media
a/n some of you wanted a part two of this so here we go. This can be read as a standalone. I am just a tiny bit obsessed with this. Thank you for so much love, I really wasn't expecting it. 🤍
summary: When Joel thinks that his life is over his little butterfly sends him a new reason to stay alive. The only problem is that he doesn't know how to love but when you are the meaning of love itself how can he not fall.
Part III is on my blog!
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
It almost felt like you were floating. The warmth and soft sheets surrounded your body, and the mattress beneath you was an absolute dream in comparison to a makeshift box bed or the sleeping bag on the ground. Maybe this was a dream after all? Considering that you could almost make out the birds chirping outside. The bright morning sun hit your face through the crack in the messily closed blinds. The ray of light leaves warm kisses on your skin. When was the last time you felt so at peace? Without the primal urge to survive rushing through your body.
You tried to tilt your head to the side, hoping to escape the beaming light but found no luck there. Lazily opening one eye, you took in the room in front of you. A frown washed over your face. You did not remember getting up to the bedroom last night. Had you been that tired? Your leg nudged something on the other side of the bed, and you instantly shot up as the fight or flight mode went off. Heart racing.
"Easy, easy… You're okay, everything's okay", Joel's groggy morning voice filled your ears, and your shoulders slumped in the instant. As you took a breath in, your hand came to rest on your chest. Joel's fingers slipped to run up and down your exposed thigh as he tried to soothe the rush of anxiety that he felt seeping through you. His eyes were still closed; the sun was dancing on his exposed chest now. Yeah, maybe you were dreaming.
"Bad dream?", he mumbled again, pulling you out of your little daydream. You shook your head even if you knew he couldn't see it, "No, I just didn't expect you…here", "You act like we haven't shared a bed". You let out a huff, pushing his rough palm off your leg. The corner of Joel's lips turned upward. "It's not about that, it's just a… I usually know that we will be in bed together here, so I figured you might… never mind," you muttered quickly.
Back in QZ, where you shared an apartment with one bed, sleeping in it together was a no-brainer. Well, Joel had given up his bed to you first, moving to sleep on the sofa instead. However, he did not spend a single night there. The guilt of him getting a bad back because of you made you drag him to bed in the middle of the night. It was a blanket line at first that split the bed, but even that didn't stick around for long as you found yourself waking up with your fingers reaching out for Joel or clenching his shirt in your sleep. Maybe simply seeking comfort, maybe out of sheer fear of waking up alone.
"Lay down and stop thinking so loudly," Joel's hands pulled you closer to him, and you let him as you rested your head on his chest. Fingers instantly reached up to run over the lines of scars that covered his body. In the beginning, he would catch your wrist with his hand, pushing it away from his skin, but now… Now he said and did nothing to stop you, allowing you to do your thing.
"Did you bring me here last night?", you questioned quietly, feeling bad for disturbing his slumber. Joel only hummed, "You fell asleep on the sofa." You remembered watching Ellie flip through the books you had found in the attic. Cup of tea by her side that you made her in hopes of making her nighttime anxiety ease up. You watched her with a fond smile on your face. Truly, there was nothing more beautiful than seeing a child experience something new, and Ellie, just like all the other kids, was robbed of a normal childhood. So you were more than happy to bring at least a drop of normality to her. Your head was resting on Joel's shoulder as he, too, sipped the tea you had made.
"This shit is nasty, why would you write a book about dating?", Ellie turned a romantic novel in her hands, making you let out a tired chuckle. "Eh, that was one of my favorites. Wait till you get to my age. Fictional men are like no other", you snorted, just managing to hear Joel do the same as he brought the cup closer to his lips again. Looking up, you already find him glancing down at you.
"No way, Bill had comic books?!", the girl shrieked, making you jump slightly at the loud noise as she pushed the box over, making everything spill all over the carpet. Joel squeezed your shoulder slightly, "Lay down." He patted the pillow that was on his lap, but you shook your head, "Not tired. Don't worry". But the man wasn't having any of it and gently moved you to lie down. You tried to protest at first, but Joel only silenced you as he started running his hand through your hair. That was when you realized just how insanely tired you were. Your hand squeezed his thigh, a silent thank you as you felt your eyes getting heavy.
Joel's eyes stayed on you. Watching as sleep took over your body. How you lost the fight to slumber, and your body slowly eased up You twitched a couple of times. A usual practice for you that Joel had grown familiar with. You, just like him, had nightmares clouding your brain. And your body hated the sensation of sleeping, trying to fight off the state of unconsciousness for as long as possible. No one could protect you in your dreams. Not even Joel - even if he wanted to.
"You like her," Ellie said, causing Joel to raise his head. He had somehow forgotten that she was here too, lulled by your somewhat peaceful features. He wouldn't have let his guard down so low otherwise. This side of him was only for his own eyes and no one else's. His face instantly shifted to a tight smile, replacing the calm features. "Don't shove your nose into other people's business," he said bitterly, hoping that Ellie would feel ashamed and drop her gaze, but she didn't. "But you do. I can see it", "What do you know about it, kid", Joel bite back harshly, but you had shifted on his thigh as if even in your sleep sending him a warning to watch his tone. The girl shrugged her shoulders, "Not much, but you always watch her, and it's kind of creepy, but also she does the same, so", Ellie trailed off, returning to making piles of the books instead. Joel wanted to snarl something out, but it was true. He was always watching over you. And he loved nothing more than catching your gaze, taking you off guard at times.
"Go to bed, it's late", Joel said, carefully shifting to scoop you up in his arms, "I'm not tired", Ellie voiced, and Joel only inhaled sharply, "That's what Y/N said as well, look at her now". Ellie watched as you clung to Joel, even in your sleep. She watched as he walked towards the stairs, once again shushing you as you muttered something in your sleep. She followed you up to her room, which was a door away from the one Joel carried you to. You had asked her if she wanted to have a room all to herself for a couple of days that you were here. Since she had never had the pleasure of it, she of course agreed to it. But now that Ellie looked at the dark space in front of her, she realized how much more she preferred being able to press herself closer to you as you slept in the sleeping bag.
Joel had walked out not even ten minutes later after he was sure that you were sleeping and comfortable. Ellie was standing in front of her bedroom door, staring into the distance. "Why aren't you in bed yet?", Joel called out, making her jump. "It's dark," she muttered under her breath. The distress in her body language was visible. "Well, it's nighttime, so of course, it's dark," Joel said, waiting for her to come at him, but she just tightened her hands into fists. He often thought that this was unfair. That Ellie had to go through so much at such a young age. He understood why you grew so protective of her and why Ellie clung to you at any moment that her ability, to pretend that she feared nothing at all, failed her. Joel let out a sigh as he walked into the dark room, quickly finding a light switch before moving towards the bedside table. Ellie watched him from the hallway still. She watched how Joel pulled the table to the furthest corner of the room, before putting a lamp into it. It was far enough away to not disturb sleep, but bright enough to illuminate every corner of the room.
"Jump into bed, Ellie," Joel said calmly, and Ellie almost thought that she was imagining the soft sound. Well, she heard it when Joel talked to you. His tone was barely bitter then, but… She nodded her head as she rushed to get under the covers. She expected to watch Joel leave, but instead, he walked toward the bed before sitting down at the end of it. "Go to sleep," Joel repeated, "But why… what are you doing?", the girl croaked out, trying not to let the stinging in her eyes show. Just like Joel, she hid her emotions behind the wall. Only slip-ups happened when she was with you. "You have nothing to fear. I'll be here till you fall asleep, and then Y/N and I are a door away," Joel said, watching as Ellie looked around the room. A glimpse of Sarah filled his mind. She nodded her head, but the tension didn't leave her body as she clenched the blanket in her hands. Joel wasn't sure who or what made him do it, but he moved closer to Ellie. The memories of him introducing Sarah to her new room and how she hated it the first night swirled around.
"Want to… want to hold my hand?", it felt weird saying it, and Joel even got embarrassed, but then he sensed Ellie shifting as she clung to him. Joel's gaze softened when he saw a tear glistening in the dim light on her cheek. "You're safe here. We will always keep you safe, kiddo." And he stayed there till she fell asleep, and then some more. Watching her or just zoning out as he thought about Sarah. The same way he shushed you as you spoke in your sleep, Joel shushed Ellie. Guiding her out of her bad dreams and into a peaceful slumber.
When he finally slipped out of Ellie's room and went to check on you, Joel knew that he wasn't going to find sleep anytime soon. After pulling the blanket further up your shoulder, Joel moved towards the window, quickly checking if it was tightly shut. Then the same thing happened in Ellie's room. He walked all around the second floor, checking the doors and windows, before moving downstairs and doing the same. That's why a man like you and I are here. Joel could still hear Ellie's voice as she read out Bill's letter. We have a job to do, and God help any motherfucker who stands in our way.
The feeling of your fingers scratching Joel's scalp brought him back to the sunny room, and he finally opened his eyes. "Was she okay sleeping without us?", you moved up, pushing yourself against Joel's chest, and he shook his head, already hating the worried look that washed over you. "I stayed with her till she fell asleep and checked on her through the night," he said so casually as if it were a self-explanatory thing, but his words made your heart clench. You knew how difficult such interactions were for him, how many demons from his past he had to choke out for that to become a reality.
You leaned in, brushing your nose against his before wrapping your hands around his neck. Joel's arms sneaked around your waist, fingertips moving just slightly under the big shirt you were wearing. "You know that she will never forget that, right?", you muttered into the crook of his neck. "Thank you for doing that", "I wasn't going to leave her all alone," Joel said firmly, and you pulled away slightly. Of course, he wasn't. Because he cared. Cared more than he wanted to admit it, and even more than he knew himself. You two were inches apart. You could feel his breath on your skin. Warm and inviting. This felt intimate, not like most of the sexual interactions you two shared, which were mostly there to get rid of the primal needs.
You moved to slip off Joel's chest, but his grip on your hips only tightened. "Joel..", you breathed out. Fuck, did he love hearing his name roll off your tongue. There was always this beam of light with love in it. It didn't sound as harsh or scary as it did when others said it. No, when you said Joel's name, he knew there was nothing but happiness there. And you proved just that when a soft chuckle slipped past your lips, and you leaned back toward him. "I just want to make your coffee," you said as you twirled your figures through his hair, hoping to reason with him to let you go. "We can go if you want a cup," but you shook your head, pointing a finger to his chest, "You will stay in bed, sir, and let me bring it up for you."
The only person who had done this before—brought him coffee, even if it was with a scrunched-up nose—had been Sarah. The gleam in your eyes made it hard for him to say no. So he did what he had been doing for years. Joel let go of you, watching as you quickly shimmied out of bed. He hated that this felt natural. This felt right. He fucking wanted to start his days like this. Even more so, he knew that this was temporary. A day or two and you would be out in the wilderness, where at any moment a runner or a clicker could get either of you infected. Joel wished you could just stay here. Forget about all the other promises and just stay here in this surreal reality.
Seeing you with a cup of coffee in your hand and messy hair falling everywhere, even if you tried to control them with a quick braid and that smile, made Joel's head spin. That smile had dampened him and left him defenseless. "Careful, it's really hot", you handed Joel a cup as he sat down, resting his back against the headboard. "Did you sleep at all?", you spoke up again, crisscrossing your legs as you looked up at Joel, all of a sudden noticing his tired eyes. He slowly nodded his head, yet you could tell that he was elsewhere.
You were about to nudge him about staying in bed all day and finally getting proper rest when you heard a silent knock on the door before it cracked open, and you saw Ellie standing there. Still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, you smiled at her, patting the side of the bed. Her eyes drifted to Joel, but since he paid her no attention, she stepped inside. Curling up on your lap like a cat in front of the sun on the windowsill. "Morning, sleepyhead, did you rest well?", you pushed some of the messy strands of hair away from her face as she flashed you a smile, yet her eyes were still closed.
You pulled your blanket over her body, slowly tracing your hand up and down her back, and almost immediately you heard light snoring. Raising your eyebrows, you looked toward Joel, "She fell asleep again." You giggled, carefully swaying from side to side with her in your embrace. Joel's eyes fell on you, but they were nothing like they were moments ago. You reached your hand out to touch him, but he quickly got out of bed. "Get to the garage when she's up; we need to talk about the next step." You frowned slightly, unsure of what this was about, but still nodded your head.
Joel sat by the table, his chin resting on his knuckles as he stared ahead. His brain was racing. This was all too good. Too much. He was losing his clear mind. Tiredness—it was all because of tiredness, he told himself as he waited for you two. That's why a man like you and I are here. Joel needed to remind himself of his main job here. To remind himself of what had happened before. What had happened to Sarah. Joel heard you two before you opened the door. Ellie was talking so quickly that you were probably laughing at her, yet it died down the moment you stepped into the garage.
Joel met your confused eyes but dropped the gaze in an instant. "I think it's best if we leave tomorrow morning," he spoke up coldly. No reason's why. Or what had changed. Just a plain, cold statement. "What?", you choked out, walking closer to him. "It's best if we keep moving," Joel insisted again.
This was not what you imagined hearing this morning. Even more so when the morning started so sweet. "Where is this coming from? I thought we were going to stay here for a couple of days," you questioned again, feeling Ellie's hand slip into yours. "We're getting too comfortable; the word behind the fence is nothing like this," Joel grumbled angrily, not meeting your eyes for even a second. That in itself was starting to annoy you.
"Joel… we talked about this. We stay for a couple of days, regain our strength, all of us, and then…", but a harsh slam on the metal table made you stop mid-sentence. "Then what?", Joel spat, "What, Y/N? You're getting too attached. This is not our reality. We're wasting time to deliver cargo." Joel's words left you defenseless as you stared at him, not quite. believing your ears. You knew that he could be an ass at times, but this.
"Shit," Ellie cursed under her breath, and you instantly pushed her behind you. "Right, because she is nothing to you. Because you're this cold and fucked up male", you spat back, as nodded your head, "It blows my mind the way you dispose of people…". Laughing under your breath, you tried to find words to say. Still in disbelief that he was changing the plan for selfish reasons. Just because he didn't do happy.
"Fuck you, Miller. I've been trying so hard, but you know what? Fuck it. Get us there and fuck off!", the sound of your voice made Joel clench his jaw. He would have much more enjoyed you screaming than hearing the disappointment that poured from you. Joel looked up at you, but now you seemed miles away. Had he finally done it? Finally made you give up on him. "Yn," he called out quietly, but you only shook your head, "Don't you Y/N me. Come Ellie bug, let's get our stuff", you turned to Ellie, who was standing behind a woodworking table. All way pressed up against the corner like a lost puppy.
"Don't," Joel caught your hand as it reached for the girl, but you yanked it away from his grasp in an instant. Your eyes filled up with tears, but you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to pull yourself together. You'll cry later. In the shower, maybe. Behind the house. Anywhere but in front of him. You reached Ellie, bringing her into your embrace, as you guided her toward the door. You were about to step out when you stopped and turned to Joel one last time, mumbling, "There's no us, by the way. You're alone in this Miller", with that you pushed the door closed harshly, making your way towards the house as you dabbed your cheeks dry so Ellie wouldn't worry even more. Butterflies weren't meant to live a long time. Maybe it's better to live from sunrise to sunset and die before the world beats you down without any mercy.
1K notes · View notes
thesoftestmess · 5 months
Text
this might not be canon, but personally i need furina to struggle a whole lot longer and harder with post-prophecy depression and mental illness. She's played the same tiring and painful act for five centuries, was constantly in a life or death scenario and had to hide her true self from the world the entire time and she won't just recover in a few years from that.
There's parts of her that will never ever be compatible with a simple human lifestyle, and parts of her that are irreparably broken. She isn't sure of her personality after everything that happened and the lie she had to live. She slips between personas and her archon temperament comes through like a defensive mechanism at any sign of conflict or trouble.
She's plagued by nightmares. Of the flood, of the trial, of the people closest to her conspiring against her behind her back, and of being found out in a million terrible ways. Of saying the wrong thing, making a wrong decision. Of being found out, of being found out, of being found out.
Lying or keeping a secret feels existential still. Being honest still feels life threatening sometimes. Putting herself first feels like putting both hands on a hot stove.
She doesn't live in the palais anymore, doesn't have to sit through trials anymore, but her heart and soul are still there. In her dreams she's still at the place she spent her entire life's memories at.
Yes, she can make new memories, but it'll take time. More time than she has, maybe, now that she's the closest to being human she'll ever be.
She'll never be human in the way the people around her are.
What sort of human has 500 years worth of memories after all? What human tells personal anecdotes and mixes up their centuries?
What sort of human can feel the absence of their divinity like it's a physical thing? A voice that will never speak to her again, or keep her alive? What human has no family, no childhood?
What human remembers so little, but still remembers death somewhere deep within?
She jerks out of sleep from it sometimes, gasping for air, and spends the rest of the night awake, almost frozen by fear. The flood is over, but it's hard to convince her racing heart that the danger is too.
Humans have entire family trees that go generations back, but Furina was put into this world a solitary creature, her blood heavy with sin ever since she turned human.
She owns a hydro vision now and doesn't know how to yield it, but the ocean still calls out to her some days. Sea creatures flock to her like they can smell she's not human enough.
She learns how to make little hydro companions for herself, so the darkness and emptiness of her apartment feels less ominous when she lies awake at night.
She can't turn her vision into a weapon quite yet, but when it rains the droplets seem to cling to her. She's watched them roll upwards along her arm, watched them gather in her palm like kin. She wonders if sea creatures flock to neuvillette in a similar way, or if his immense power makes them recoil. She wonders if elemental dragons can feel regret. Wonders if he, too, ever feels entirely foreign in that human body he was given. If he, too, lies awake trying to grasp faint memories of a past life.
She's extremely human in the way she's plagued by body pains from not being able to relax just one day in five centuries. The years catch up with her once she gets out of survival mode, and fatigue is a constant companion now. Sleep comes difficultly and getting out of bed was easier when the fate of a whole nation depended on it. On her. She's never lived for just herself before and some days she's not sure she wants to.
She did her duty and earned her retirement and the story turned out well, all things considered. She still has people by her side, some of them.
Still, she feels raw and tired and overwhelmed by the life lying ahead of her. As a human and as someone who will always be Something Else.
153 notes · View notes
fandomlurker333 · 11 days
Text
A lot of people are screaming throuple and just writing the porn (which I get! It’s fun!). But reading them come is not enough for me. lol Toxicity is hot until it’s just damaging and sad for everyone. I want real happiness for these three weirdos.
The end of the film was meant to be the very beginning of something. Just the spark of an idea of them coming back to one another. But the real work starts after. 
And I think it would probably be a step-by-step thing. 
I can see Patrick and Art working to draw closer, with that strong foundation of their childhoods to build off of. Obviously having to resolve the hurt that so much time and distance caused them, and both being willing to forgive. But it’s clear at the end of the film that the door is open for that. They grew up together. There’s a real root of knowing that I think could carry them through the toughest parts early on. Their relationship evolving feels possible.
And Tashi and Art’s marriage would find some breathing room and maybe even some renewed delight for having Patrick present and loving on them both. Kinda seeing each other again through his eyes type thing. Remembering they’re more than who they have been to each other for over a decade (both operating in one mode to survive, never quite enough for each other -- not totally fulfilled and not appreciated in their fullness).
I don’t think Patrick and Tashi would be having sex at this point, but I can see like….tennis dates where they bicker. Just them all learning how to be in each other’s space for extended periods of time and enjoy it.
And maybe Art wouldn’t resent Tashi so much for not being able to give him everything (so much has been taken from her — she just doesn’t have all that much left. She’s been doing her best.) and maybe Tashi would feel more at peace seeing them play each other and knowing Art is really loving tennis, not just playing for her. Connecting with them both in that space and finding joy in tennis again, so it’s not just routine and pain and loss for her.
With that healing happening concurrently (with therapists as support, of course), I think they’d get far. And then once those relationships are more secure, once Art and Tashi learn how they relate to each other when he isn’t winning for her (which would be something new. They don’t know what that looks like yet!) then Patrick and Tashi, having learned way more about themselves in relationship and how to communicate, might start working on their side of the triangle lol. 
I could see them all exploring and working out the intimacy over time — not just sex, but intimacy -- what do they each need and how do they need it? And kink too, the various ways they each want/need to give or receive so they all feel truly satisfied.
And of course they’ll be partners co-parenting. All of them.
I can see Tashi finally grieving her injury, the life she lost, and rediscovering her love of tennis, not to win, but for the joy of being on the court. Her sobs the first time she plays again and it’s not competitively, just a little volley, but it’s like she’s finally alive again. Reminding herself she’s a leader in tennis the space still, that she can build success in that world even without Art’s career, but maybe it looks different. I see a healed Tashi learning to enjoy teaching kids. Taking on more protege. And letting Art and Patrick come help at her tennis camps. 
Art retiring like he said he wanted, running the foundation as Tashi steps back. Realizing that he’s actually pretty good at this business thing and going back to school for a Master’s in nonprofit leadership. Meeting new people. Making friends (that aren’t Patrick). Getting invited to a pottery class and seeing he loves to work with his hands. Playing tennis with Patrick on the weekends.
And my heart for stay-at-home dad Patrick. Who always forgets to change over the laundry and leaves his keys everywhere and puts the babies' shoes on the wrong feet. But my god he loves those kids so goddamn much. Patrick learning to cook for the family and getting really good at it like he does anything he hyper-focuses on. Patrick finally having a home with the two people he loves most and figuring out how to create some routine and stability for himself within that container.
The love in that home. Ugh. I think it’s possible! I think they can do it! It just takes work. 
85 notes · View notes
transmascutena · 3 months
Text
every major character in rgu is in some way obsessed with the past (friendships, love, family, childhood, etc.) but it's interesting how the main three all kind of subvert this in different ways.
so much of utena's life is defined by her past and her memory of the prince, but unlike most other characters, this doesn't manifest in her wanting to go back to that time. both her false goal of meeting the prince again and her real one of wanting to help anthy are future-oriented, and this is something she retains throughout the show ("let's have tea together and laugh in ten years") and it's one of the major things that sets her apart from the rest of the cast as the protagonist. as much as utena clings to the idea of eternity, she's probably the one character who wants it the least out of everyone.
on the other hand, akio is the one who wants eternity the most, despite his talk of revolutionizing the world. he claims that he longs for the time he was a prince and had the power of dios, and while i do think he genuinely believes that a lot of the time, in a sort of pathetic self-pitying way, he is ultimately really quite comfortable with the present. he has power and gets (or takes) everything he could ever want and he doesn't truly want to change things. but of course that's still not enough. he wants the one thing he does not and cannot have. he seeks more power or a different kind of power, but it doesn't manifest in actually changing things, either forwards or backwards, not because he can't (like the other characters who are stuck in place) but because he doesn't truly want to. the current system benefits him entirely and he wants to keep it eternal.
anthy is more difficult to pinpoint. on one hand she's focused on the past in a similar way to akio; she wants dios back, though her wish for that is more genuine than his. on the other hand, she has largely given up on that ever happening, and so it's hard to say she's actively seeking it or obsessing over it. so she's really more focused on the present, but in the exact opposite way from akio. she's in survival mode, living day-to-day, without much room to really care about anything else. she has resigned herself to akio's eternity. but then by the end of the show, utena has given her the hope necessary to want a better future for herself instead.
131 notes · View notes
davosmymaster · 1 year
Text
Home
Tumblr media
TAGS AND WARNINGS - Hurt/comfort, panic attack, family issues, abusive family, racism (against Joel and Sarah), mentions of stalking (if you squint), Joel is definitely Latino, potentially triggering if you have suffered from an abusive household, self-degradation, “Mexican” as a slur, Christmas celebration and religion. Reader is 28. Because of the plot both reader and family are implied to be white/not black or latino.
PAIRINGS - Joel Miller x fem!reader (Pre-outbreak! Joel)
WORD COUNT - 3.2k
SUMMARY - Coming back “home” to your family for Christmas is always a dangerous move. The goal was simple: survive through the night. Joel comes to the rescue when the mission becomes unbearable.
Home
There is a warmth in your chest as you close the door to your childhood room. Out of the bubble you have now created for yourself beyond those four walls, there's a dad sitting in front of the tv and a mom putting the finishing touches to Christmas dinner. Your brother is somewhere out there, too. And all you can think of is how the warmth in your chest becomes white lightning, a fire going up and down through your sternum; and your closed-up throat unwilling to welcome any more air into your lungs.
'What's wrong?' you ask yourself in your mind; as if you didn't already have the answer for that. All is fine, all is well. And yet the fire doesn't stop despite the lack of oxygen in your lungs, and the trembling in your hands becomes somehow more erratic.
'What's wrong?' The voice in your head is unforgiving. Sarcastic. Insulting, even. 'Nothing's wrong. You know damn well that's the problem.'
Your breathing comes out laboured. Somehow the autopilot has failed, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing; it seems that your body is no longer interested in keeping you alive. Let alone sane.
As if sent by God themselves, the flip phone in your handbag rings. The melody fills the room from where you left your things an hour ago and your knees crawl there, unable to hold your own weight. Back hits the mattress, and your form becomes a boneless bundle of anxiety against it, on the floor. Your shaky hands look for the phone inside your bag; and you pick it up on its last ring.
You hear a relieved breath on the other side, and yours immediately follows. His voice comes out low, a drop of worry staining it inevitably like blood on a white shirt.
"It's me," he says. And you want to respond 'Of course it's you, who else would call me at this hour on Christmas eve?' "Just wanted to check how everything is going."
Words don't come out of your mouth. You just bend into yourself a little more, feeling extremely cold all of a sudden. The trembling is gone. Although it has left remnants behind, a trail of weakness in your very soul, your breathing still in manual mode. Slow. Lungs aching.
"Darlin'..." Joel whispers.
You can almost picture him bent over his yellow kitchen counter. One hand is pressing the phone against his ear, his elbow supporting his weight. The other is against his chest as if trying to comfort himself with half a hug. The crease between his dropped eyebrows is deep. Concern flows from his voice like a river after it's rained. You want to massage the fine lines on his forehead, press your own hand against his patchy beard; and kiss the worry away.
The words you prepare yourself to say are comforting, dismissive of your current situation; but they never leave your lips.
"I shouldn't be here," it's what flows from your mouth instead.
He takes a deep breath followed by a sigh, and you can perfectly picture him shutting his eyes tightly.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
He insists, but you don't have a different answer to offer. Truth is, nothing has happened; and that is something Joel Miller, your boyfriend, whose parents were always there for him both physically and emotionally when he and Tommy were growing up, will never understand.
He will never understand the silence in the room below, and how unsettling it is to patiently wait for the inevitable fight. He will never understand that the smell and sight of the house you grew up in bring memories deeply buried but burnt into your brain. He will never understand the unnerving rage that floods your nervous system whenever your family behaves like family; when they treat you nicely and kindly and it feels like they are mocking you somehow. Because you know how they are, and you know they are seconds away from dropping the masks and beginning the third world war as soon as you bring up the wrong topic; which seems to be any topic these days. But especially the fact that you're dating a divorced dad. And as if that wasn't enough, it bothers them, even more, knowing that said dad is of Latin descent, and his child, a black girl.
You don't understand why you're even there. Well, you know why you're there; because they drove three hours to pick you up even though you repeatedly told them that you could drive back home for Christmas. Because you had felt guilty —and sick— at the thought of one: saying no after that; and two: the anxiety a fight in front of Sarah's teacher would cause you.
How had they found out you were taking Sarah to school, or what school she attended? You had no idea.
"I'm sorry..." you whisper, suddenly guilty for being there; even though you know it's not your fault that they are manipulative and abusive and a complete fucking nightmare. It feels like you need to apologize to both of them, for still wanting and expecting your parents to change despite the awful things they think of Joel and Sarah.
"Hey... hey..." Joel speaks in a whisper, his heart pounding so hard it hurts. And you hear him walking somewhere; probably outside. He doesn't like Sarah listening to things she's not supposed to know about. "We both know it's not your fault they have their head so far up their asses."
There's no reason for you to break the way you do, but that doesn't stop your tears or your own shallow breath from making it to the other side of the line. A low grunt escapes your lips. The pain is raw, and feels new rather than just an uncomfortable scar. Your eyes scan the room and they find your purple walls, old notebooks, clothes in the open wardrobe and, suddenly, it feels like you're fifteen and so fucking helpless and exhausted and done.
"Darlin', come on..." he's begging. "Take deep breaths with me. C'mon..."
You close your eyes, so tightly that your very brain hurts, so tightly that you see bursts of fireworks behind your eyelids. That doesn't stop the tears from coming, but at least now there is a dark invisible barrier between you and that house that should be your home but isn't. And you take a deep breath with him, and let it out.
"Good. You're doing so good," he says, and it fills you with guilt that his voice sounds so scared. "One more... Yeah, there you go. One more baby girl... That's it," he keeps you from falling into the abyss of your mind, and you don't think you could ever repay the debt.
A comfortable silence settles between the both of you before he asks.
"Want me to go and pick you up?" he asks, with such a gentle voice you couldn't help but picture him as he talked to baby Sarah. He doesn't want to scare you or upset you in any way.
But you shake your head quickly and wipe your tears with the back of your hand.
"No," you respond. "It's so far away, and Christmas... and Sarah needs you."
"Sarah is perfectly fine here, and Christmas will last 'til morning. It's not even that late," he says. "...and you need me too," he insists. "It's not that far, anyway."
"It's a three-hour-long drive."
"For those old motherfuckers maybe. I can go back and forth in that same amount of time."
You sigh, loudly. The strength is leaving your body with any passing second, and you fear you will pass out on him while still on the call.
Almost as a threat, you hear your mother speaking in the living room.
"She's in her room?" she asks, and your heartbeat increases. It pounds heavily against your ribcage. The voice is muffled by the walls and stairs, but loud and clear as if she wanted you to hear. "Some things never change, do they? What a shame. A twenty-eight-year-old woman, hiding in her room from the parents that raised her... and put a roof over her head..."
Then, your brother laughs.
"Joel..." you say. With the tone that comes out of your shutting throat and your knees on the floor, his name in your mouth feels like a prayer. He winces on the other side of the line as if he could feel the stabbing pain in your heart. But that, you don't know. "Please hurry..."
"I will, baby," he says.
As soon as your words leave your mouth, you regret them. Almost screaming his name, he gets startled; asks what's wrong as if he feared the ceiling of your childhood bedroom collapsing on top of you. It certainly feels like it.
"Don't be so quick, though," you whisper, and immediately cringe at your own words. "I mean... Don't get yourself killed on the road. Please."
He blows a long sigh, directly into his phone.
"Je-sus... Christ," he could almost laugh at the relief. "I won't. Keep your phone at hand."
"Thank you, baby."
Before either of you has even hung up the phone, the door to your room bursts open. Your brother is standing there, with that sly grin that you wish you could beat out of him without him killing you first; but which, at the same time, terrifies you to the point of absurdity.
He leans his head, covered by a baseball cap, towards the hallway.
"She's talking to the Mexican!"
A different kind of rage fills your veins, but even before you have the chance to say or do anything; you're defeated by your own dread. You wait for him to say something else, to reveal your new plan for Christmas; but he just stands there squinting in your direction. He seems confused by your puffy red eyes and your sitting position on the floor; rather than concerned for your teary face as an actual brother should be.
Your mother speaks, then. A loud cry comes from the first floor. Exaggerated. Malicious.
"Oh dear lord," she sobs. "What did we do to deserve this? And on Christmas Eve. Can we not have one peaceful Christmas?"
"Dinner's ready," your brother says. And slams the door.
[***]
For almost two hours you eat up your father's complaints about hypothetical broken hinges and your mother's cries about being the worst possible mother ever. Your brother seems the only person eating dinner in peace, and you're almost jealous of how unbothered he appears to be.
At some point the conversation redirects towards Joel, you don't know exactly when or why, but your father says his name as if Joel had anything to do with whatever he was talking about. You try to defend him, but end up with both of them somehow offended because you called them racists and they-are-not-racist and Mexicans-take-our-jobs and no matter how many times you tell them he's not Mexican, they don't seem to care.
How you manage not to have another panic attack, that you don't know.
The doorbell rings throughout the house, as if announcing the apocalypse. Your brother stands with his fork halfway out of his mouth, and your heart races as you look toward both of your parents. You see their mind going a mile a second, wondering if their complaints have been loud enough for the neighbors to call the police. Until shaking like a leaf, you get up from the table without having eaten a single bite, get your handbag and head to the front door.
Everything else is a blur, even if nothing special happened, even if they just let you go without a single word. Somehow, silence is even worse than what you were expecting. Next thing you know, you're in Joel's truck heading back to Austin and he's holding your hand.
Just the sight of him calms your nerves enough to wake up from the trance. He's rubbing small circles on the back of your limp hand. He manages to drive with one single hand on the steering wheel, but he clenches his fist so much around it that you can see his knuckles turning white.
He turns for a split second to look at you, and his gaze softens. His fingers intertwined with yours, and he squeezes gently.
"There you are, gorgeous," he says, his voice being the only thing you can hear. He takes a deep breath, and you know he's trying very hard not to pull over and squeeze you against his chest until your atoms and his merge together. "We're going home now, baby. It's okay."
The sentence feels like a kick in the gut, but he's right; you're going home now. The force of the blow is so hard that you physically flinch, and fat round tears come back to your cheeks.
You wished it was different. You wished they were different. You wished you could call their house your home and those people your family, but they hardly have earned the title of acquaintances. It doesn't matter that you're their flesh and blood; they haven't treated you as such. Through the four of you flows the same blood, but what does that matter when they seem to break your own heart with every word they pronounce?
You don't even realize how or when, but the truck is standing on the side of the road. Joel gets out and walks to where you are, and your arms fling themselves over his broad shoulders as soon as he swings the door open. He buries his nose in your hair, breathing in your own presence and squeezing his fingers on your waist as if he could get your body any closer to his. When your touch falters, he takes his chance to grab your cheeks and kiss you.
The kiss tastes like salt from your own tears, but that doesn't stop him in the slightest. He wants to kiss you harder than his own body is capable of. He daydreams of becoming the prince in those Disney movies Sarah loved as a child. All so he can erase all your pain with a single kiss, wake you up from the terrible nightmare with just his presence, his love and care. He knows that's not possible, but that doesn't stop him from trying.
His tongue gently licks yours. He revels in the kiss, his knees almost buckling up as if he was a teenager all over again. Before he lets go, he nibbles at your lower lip. And it's not until then, when his hips accidentally brush your inner thigh, that he notices how hard he actually is.
You gasp, and your lips form a perfect 'oh" against his mouth. Your eyes are closed, and he holds his breath at how drugged up he feels. He breathes your exhale and now it is pooling at the bottom of his lungs, making a home there. Unmoving. Strange to his system but somehow still welcomed. He presses his lips against the pulse point on your neck, feels the swollen vein there and flattens his tongue against the warm skin. Just the soft moan coming from your lips makes his boring existence worth it.
And then he bites. Softly. So soft that he barely feels his own teeth against your flesh. It still makes you jump.
"Joel!" you whisper, and the following second he's smiling as he draws a path of kisses back to your cheek. "Ugh... stop"
The air he's been holding finally comes out of his system with a long sigh. Both his hands are hugging your cheeks as his lips approach your forehead and gift you a kiss there.
"I won't let anyone mistreat you this way again," he says. He's all eyes closed and heart on his sleeve. Even if he was usually affectionate, he had never once before been so open before. The ghost of his ex-wife still haunts his nightmares and threatens him to end the same way with you if he let himself go. "I wish I met you before... maybe I could've been there and..."
"Joel," you stop his ramblings. Those words he's saying are not even directed at you anymore. He's lost in his own thoughts, in his own pain. "Joel you couldn't have done anything. This had to happen sooner or later."
Finally, he lets go, but still keeps you close enough to bury your head in his chest if you need it.
"Look at you..." he says. "Comforting me when it is you who needs comfort now. I can't even begin to imagine what it was like to be there all those years. I would've lost my fucking mind."
With teary eyes, you look into those gentle brown eyes he carries. They look at you with so much pain already, such a heavy backpack full of sorrow for you on his back, that you feel bad to answer.
"I did. I did lose my fucking mind. Not having a home does that to a person."
Maybe it is because he doesn't want to cry in front of you, not now that you're so tender around the edges, at least; but he brings you back into his arms and a few tears well his eyes.
"Let me be your home," he finally whispers against your hair. "I will always be your home, somewhere you can always go to and depend on. Sarah and I will be your home. You don't have to keep looking anywhere else..."
The wound in your chest cannot be mended, that you already know. Yet Joel's words feel like a balm on the open wound. The promise sounds heaven-sent, too good to be true. It also feels threatening somehow. The breaking of that promise, if you agreed to it, would mean completely losing any hope remaining in your body, any strength to keep fighting. Trusting is so difficult and love so complicated when fate seems so random. Yet this is what living is like, isn't it? What is life if not a continuous gamble we play in the hope of achieving a little happiness?
His eyes are fixed on yours, trying to read the thoughts coming non-stop to your mind. But in the end, there's nothing left to consider. Before you could even make the conscious decision, your mind, even if broken and dazed, had already performed the biggest proof of care you were capable of. You had stood against your parents for Joel and Sarah, something you had never been able to do before. Not in all seriousness, at least; not as far as showing them that you were capable of walking out of their house without their permission.
You loved them, and they loved you the way a true family should love. Joel loved you in a way you had never thought possible, and Sarah considered you, in all aspects, her true mother. Their home was always open for you. Always welcome. The only scream anyone would hear could only come from the tv or the radio. The arms were always open, the coffee always boiling hot, and the favors didn't need to be asked for. Love wasn't traded, but simply given.
"You two have always been my true home," you finally conceded, right into his incredulous and love-struck eyes. "Will you forgive me for forgetting?"
"Oh, babygirl..." he whispers, a smile dancing on his lips as he presses his forehead against yours, and his hands slowly warm your cheeks. His nose gently brushes yours. "There's no need to apologize. I will never get tired of reminding you."
641 notes · View notes
roll-for-gaslight · 1 year
Text
I feel like there's something about this being the fairy-tale season and almost every character having the concept of childhood play a pivotal role in their story. Red and Pinocchio are the most obvious because they're still children and they are actively fighting against the role of obedience so often blindly given to children in stories with no more complex thought than "children should be obedient". Ylfa who is experiencing the horror that is female puberty, of growing up a woman. Ylfa who is learning to have a voice of her own rather than letting authority figures speak for her, who says "I might try to defy you every now and again" and is growing to be big and bad but at the same time is just learning to make connections to other children. And Pinocchio who has only ever been around other children and latched onto people who he thought would take care of him. He never wanted anything but to be a kid and be taken care of, and no matter what he does he's always tossed aside and treated badly. And there's not even a good reason for it, the world just sucks.
But what about Rosamund? Rosamund, who is a princess who has been taught by everyone her whole life that she's only valuable if she's beautiful enough to get a prince. If she's pretty and patient, she will be saved. Rosamund, who is only a child really, and her story echoes that of every young adult who was given similar advice in school that as long as they stay the path laid out for them everything will work out fine. She doesn't know who she is or what she wants and the system that is supposed to take care of her just isn't doing it. She's having to make her own decisions for the first time ever and she has no idea what to do with that.
And what about Gerard, who was changed into a frog as a young child and living as an animal forced him into survival mode. He was forced into cowardice, with no choice and no childhood and no one even looking for him. His whole self-worth is tied to someone who fell in love with him young, and then things got scary and of course he hid with the children. He basically skipped straight from child to adult with no growing up in between and so of course he wouldn't go towards the dogs. Of course he wouldn't go towards the giants. That's how you die, and when all you have in your life is your life you can't die. You have to hold onto something and a will to live is as good as anything. He's only now growing from a scared child to one of the grownups who wants to protect the children.
And then there's Timothy, who's story is about his son's childhood and trying to navigate parenthood and trying to remember how to support and care for children when they aren't who you expect them to be without erasing any part of them. He knows what it is to love unconditionally but not know how to show it and how to guide the people who are relying on him the most.
I don't even know what point I'm trying to make. I just can't get it out of my head.
297 notes · View notes
dg-outlaw · 8 months
Text
Emotional Damage. Worse than the Joker?
After sitting with Batman #138, I got to thinking about how much emotional damage Bruce inflicted on Jason with what he did to Jason. Working through some things myself lately, I thought more about fear and how it relates to survival, endurance, and the hang-ups we have that affect our lives. But less about me and more about Jason Todd.
Tumblr media
Yes, I know there’s the idea that it’s all Zur-En-Arrh and not really Bruce, but still. If there was something to snap Bruce out of whatever battle is going on in his mind, mentally altering (without consent) and "abusing" his own son in such a deep way, should’ve been it.
I know some have cited how adrenaline kicks in during all sorts of activities and scenarios (and not just in times of violence or aggression), which is true, but what I thought about was how much adrenaline and will has played a part in Jason’s overall survival as a character.
As a boy who grew up in Crime Alley with a drug addicted mother, Catherine, that he cared for often, his childhood was probably filled with fear. But giving into fear is something that likely doesn’t help you survive in Crime Alley, especially when Jason became orphaned. He fended for himself, took care of Catherine until she died, and then took care of himself. He was probably afraid all the time, but he pushed through with adrenaline, cortisol, and whatever else he needed to survive.
Tumblr media
Then Bruce happened. As Jason Todd he was given a bit of peace, but then it was back to survival mode as a Robin—though likely a choice he made with Bruce’s approval because what little boy wouldn’t want to be Robin? The role of Robin alone is all about adrenaline, survival, and combatting fear.
Then there was the Joker.
We all know the story, but I think about it again as I see posts about the young actress who played Ahsoka in the live-action series and how it helped some contextualize the idea of child soldiers and just how young Ahsoka was during the Clone Wars. The same can be said for the Robins. So now we can think about a young, scrawny boy, alone in a warehouse getting beaten nearly to death by a psychopath with a crowbar. Again, fear, loneliness, and potential loss of hope. But Jason endured, and even in the end tried to save himself and his mother through use of adrenaline and sheer force of will.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Flash forward and Jason is suddenly alive, still broken and bruised but basically buried alive. More fear and another chance to let it finish him off, but Jason doesn’t give in. He pushes fear aside, breaks through his casket, and crawls out from his grave. Again, still a teenager and still alone as he wandered the streets, confused and hungry. All of this to say that Jason is fucking survivor, probably more so than Bruce (IMO).
Tumblr media
Bruce may have harnessed and used his fear, but he suppresses it. Jason owns it, lives it, and has had it looking over his soldier for as long as he can probably remember. It probably whispers in his ear all the time and says, “You’re still just a scared little boy and you’re going to die. Just give up.” But he doesn’t. Yes, he’s easily written off as the angry one or the one always pissing everyone off, but I think that’s just his defense mechanism. It’s the wall that hides his fear, but unlike Bruce he wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t afraid to let his emotions out, even when he tries not to. I want to believe those behaviors are Jason venting his fear and anger so they don’t consume him or so he doesn't get hurt, even if he doesn’t always do it in the most healthy of ways.
So yeah, for Bruce to think that somehow Jason is going to live some happy American Dream in Metropolis (God forbid any aliens or bad guys attack that city, something that never happens), then Bruce still doesn’t know his son.
In way, whether it’s all Zur-En-Arrh’s doing or not, turning Jason’s adrenaline into crippling fear, taking a core part of him that has kept him alive and fighting all these years, is worse than what the Joker did.
So I don’t think any amount of Bat or Big Belly burgers and hugs will fix that. My only hope, based on the description for Red Hood, Issue #2: (JASON TODD PREPARES FOR BATTLE! Batman's plan for Jason Todd backfires…but in a good way? The Red Hood prepares for the final battle of the Gotham War…but what will he have left when the dust settles?!), is that Jason finds a way to overcome Bruce’s programming on his own. I think if Bruce created a failsafe for the failsafe, or if one of the other Batfam members helps him, it’ll cheapen his character. I’m fine if someone is there to support him, but I think if the writers want to respect Jason and show his strength as a character, it’ll be Jason doing the work to prove his will is stronger than Bruce’s when he beats the fear programming. We even see this in a different way in Urban Legends when Jason was able to fight off the Cheer gas to save Bruce.
Tumblr media
But for now, when I see this.
Tumblr media
I’ll think about this Bruce and Jason instead.
Tumblr media
96 notes · View notes
vldsideblog · 11 months
Text
A Keith blurb
Warnings for: Keith’s shitty childhood, naxzela and everything that happend then. And probably other stuff lemme know if I missed anything
Keith had a nasty habit of throwing himself into all situations head first without a second thought.
As a child he’d run back into his burning home to retrieve his knife, nearly giving his poor pop a heart attack. His dad held him by the shoulders as they waited for the fire department and begged him with tears in his eyes to never be so reckless with his own life again. But Keith had never been good at listening to reason.
His pop had repeated the message countless times over the years. When he climbed the tallest tree he could find and broke an arm falling from it, when he got chased by a rattlesnake after getting too close to it’s nest, when he played outside all day in the burning summer sun and got heatstroke.
And then one day it appeared his pop didn’t take his own advice either. And Keith was alone.
At first he’d tried to be good he really had, but the grief and the anger and the resentment began to weigh on him. Everyday it felt as if he was dragging a mountain behind him, and at some point he couldn’t take it anymore.
If a schoolmate’s teasing became too much he would lash out, fists always ready for a fight. If another kid at the group home stole something of his he would bite and kick and take it back. He ran away more times than he could count, reaching desperately for a better life, where he mattered, where he was more than a bad kid, where he wasn’t in pain.
Keith stole food when he was denied meals at the homes, he took up graffiti as a way to express his anger, the first time he ended up in the back of a cop car he realized how far he’d strayed from his pop’s advice. He never expected things to get any better.
Then something changed.
Someone gave him a chance to be more than a delinquent.
And Keith didn’t know how to feel about that. But he figured what else do I have going for me?
And eventually life got better. He found people who cared, folks he considered not only friends but family as well. He discovered better coping mechanisms and let himself enjoy his interests and hobbies. He no longer lived in survival mode constantly.
Sure Keith had bad days, when memories haunted him, when he couldn’t stand being around other people. He was still reckless and got into fights, but it was more rare. Life was better.
Then Shiro disappeared, and Matt was gone, and Adam was grieving. He let his temper get the best of him and he fled to the desert. The worst part was he wasn’t sure if he regretted his recklessness. The vindication might have been worth it.
And everything was empty. And time blurred. And Keith was alone again. It was almost like nothing had changed at all. Like it had been a crazy dream. He’d never left the desert.
Then Keith was in space fighting for the freedom of the known and unknown universe, and Shiro was back but he was different. He was haunted, and he wished Shiro didn’t have to experience nightmares like he did. But he did and Keith stuck by his side like the loyal brother he was. He accepted his duty as a defender easier than the others, if not for the fact that he’d always been a fighter. This time he just wasn’t protecting himself.
Then his entire world had flipped upside down, but in a completely different way than he had become accustomed to.
Keith was galra. Keith was the enemy. Keith was a monster.
He’d suspected as much, he’d always been strange to say the least. Keith couldn’t even begin to count the number of times he realized he was different. That his teeth were sharper, the dark was much of a hindrance, he could smell things others couldn’t.
But he didn’t think he’d ever get an answer, especially not one like this.
Things were tense for a while, but he was reassured that he was part of the team and nothing would change that. But over time he started to believe that less and less.
And then Naxzela happened. And Keith almost died for the cause. He was ready to follow his pop into the flames and become one with the ashes. He’d pulled the trigger and everything, it was a complete coincidence that he even survived.
And his hands were shaking on the controls. And he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were streaming, and he could barely hear someone calling his name through the radio.
Keith had always been reckless.
135 notes · View notes
banes-favourite · 4 months
Note
do you have any more general hcs on regressed Gortash and Durge? you’ve put the thought in my brain and just YES YES YES 🙏🙏🙏
absolutely, i love thinking about them 🙏
- Gortash either regresses to his 4-5 year old self or a baby
- When he's a bit older, his absolutely favourite thing to do is play with toys. He'll often gather clocks and pens from all over the house and put them together, pry them open, pull them apart, make hideous little toys and play pretend with them. Durge thinks it's cute but he's also breaking a ton of expensive stuff so he has to lock him in a playpen with normal toys like stuffed animals and wooden figurines.
- A reflection of his own past, but he's just so quiet as a kid. He's learned to exist without bothering anyone, so he's super slippery and Durge has to lock doors or he'll find him out in the garden terrorising the plants and throwing rocks at stuff (and people).
- Similarly, he's not too fussy about food. He'll eat anything off his plate because his brain is still in survival-mode, so Durge pushes the most veggies he can on him and all he gets is the occasional annoyed sigh.
- Durge steals a stuffed bear from his childhood home and when he's little, Gortash does. not. separate from it. He takes it everywhere, dragging it behind him, feeding it, playing with it, bathing with it and will not sleep unless he's hugging it. He doesn't have a name for it, just calls it "Bear".
- That said, Durge did have to take it away from him one time when he found him reenacting a scene where Bear broke something and little Gort played the upset mother who was beating the poor thing senselessly with a shoe. He had to give him a very awkward talk afterwards about how it's okay to break things because you get to fix them.
- Gortash likes to draw on the walls. He especially likes taking baths in the fireplace's charcoal and leaving handprints all over the walls and carpets (Bane is so proud <3)
- One time Durge didn't realise he was little until Gortash had accidentally scratched himself with his gauntlet and cried so hard. Durge had to shush him while cleaning up the scratch.
- Durge will explain human anatomy to him as a fucked up bedtime story.
- Going full baby doesn't happen often, only when things are getting waayy too bad mentally for him. When it does happen, Durge is extra careful with him, holding him close and bouncing him, feeding him his bottle of warm milk, tucking him in with Bear and praying to Bhaal he sleeps more than 15 minutes.
- It's a little heartwarming for Durge to watch how innocent and playful Gortash is when he's regressed. It's like the years of labor and hard work disappear from his eyes and he can smile genuinely again.
- He takes him camping sometimes, out in the garden. Teaches him about constellations while they're both laying in the grass, stargazing, and has to stop him from eating dirt multiple times.
- Banites find it so funny to teach little Gortash to recite Bane's gospel, it drives Durge nuts. Imagine a little 5 year old going around talking about the undeniable grasp of unity and prosperity under the leadership of a strong-willed black hand.
39 notes · View notes
padawansuggest · 1 year
Text
Obi-Wan: *summoned to the council at age 28, his Padawan and master both refusing to leave his side when they hear who’s come to the temple to see him for fear of them stealing him away* Alright, let’s do this, what can I help you… all… wow. There sure are a lot of you…
Kenobi Matriarch: O’ben! My sweet little freckled boy, come give your mummy a hug! *pulls him in forcibly so she can kiss his cheeks and pinch them* Oh you are just the cutest! Ernian, isn’t he just cute?
Kenobi Patriarch: Adorable. Are you sure he’s ours, Mimi?
Mimi: Of course I am, a mother always knows. *lets Obi-Wan be dragged into a crowd of redheads so Ernian can introduce him to his four sisters, two brothers and three cousins that took the journey with them, takes the chance to glare at Jinn before grinning and pulling Anakin into her bosom* You must be my baby’s baby, huh? Lookit that blonde hair, so pretty. How old are you, cherry pie?
Anakin: *confused* Um, almost thirteen.
Mimi: Oh, that’s a good age. You look healthy for it, your teacher was a waif at that age, from the pictures we were sent while he was growing up.
Anakin: *knows that Obi-Wan was very paranoid and thin at that age, but not why* Yeah. He’s bigger now. He says he wants to grow a beard.
Mimi: Oh, that’ll be nice. His uncle on his papa’s side has a very nice beard.
Yoda: *comes dottering over* Happy we are, to connect a child to their home past the impressionable age of childhood that can confuse them, but wonder we do, why now?
Mimi: Does he always talk like that? Been doin it since we got here?
Qui-Gon: Heh, yeah, try growing up with him. O’ben used to mock him straight to his face as a kid.
Yoda: Spirit, he has! Gumption!
Qui-Gon: O’ben’s his favorite.
Mimi: He’s everyone’s favorite, from what I’ve heard. Now now, we don’t want to get O’ben all in a tizzy by inviting him to a family gathering, that would just be too much family for him to handle.
Anakin: Master handles parties very well?
Qui-Gon: *puts his hands on Anakin’s shoulders* He /survives/ parties, grandpadawan, he handles them by surviving them.
Mimi: Exactly. Just like my Ernian, from what nice Master Mace tells me.
Qui-Gon: *glares at Mace because he knows damn well her initial glare at him was from Mace’s storytelling*
Mimi: Anyways, a bunch of us had reason to head this way, decided to make it a mini reunion of sorts. Well, more like O’ben’s first time meeting most of them, but listen, my brother and husband and I got a bet to settle once and for all. Which we need to see O’ben to settle it.
Qui-Gon: *loves bets* Oh??
Mimi: Yessiree, we been wondering how many adult fangs O’ben has.
Qui-Gon: …I don’t actually know the answer to that one? He hasn’t bitten me in years.
Mace: He bit me less than two months ago after a spar. I startled him while he was in attack mode, but he was also still in sparring mindset, didn’t make the fangs drop.
Anakin: I’m sorry, what? Master has fangs?
Mimi: Sure does, baby! Alla us do. It’s Stewjoni genetics. See I got a total of eight droppable fangs, and Ernian’s only got four, so all of our kids have had a mix. We’ve even seen five in onea the boys, but he chose to get that one replaced, since it bothered him. We need to know how many fangs O’ben has to settle the bet.
Anakin: *eyes sparkling* How do you drop them?
Mimi: *pulls up her upper lip, and presses down on the gums above her canines on the left side, dropping two sharp fangs* Jus like that, sugar.
Anakin: *firm nod* Okay, I got this. *darts off into the crowd and manages to drag Obi-Wan outta the thick of it, before climbing him till he sighs and sits down, climbs into his lap*
Obi-Wan: *ignoring his cooing and snickering family while his child sits on him* Can I help you, Padawan mine?
Anakin: I wanna see the fangs.
Obi-Wan: *blushes super hard* I… really?
Anakin: Yeah. Your mom has super cool fangs, I want to see yours too.
Obi-Wan: *gives his mom a wary look before sighing, opening his mouth and manually depressing on each section, ignoring the way everyone in the room is watching* See? Not all that interesting.
Anakin: *looks back at Mimi* He has six. Who wins the bet.
Cousin 3: Gimme a minute to do the math for averages- *has the pad in his hands snatched by deft little fingers as Anakin steals it to do his math for him*
Anakin: Average looks like five?
Brother 2: Shit. I threw off the average, didn’t I?
Anakin: Were you the one with only five?
Brother 2: Yeah.
Anakin: Then yes.
Ernian: *fist pump in the air* I win! The pot is mine!
Mimi: *deep sigh, before coming over to sit next to her youngest and who she’s decided is a pretty good grandson* Well, we tried. *pulls a very confused Obi-Wan into her side for a hug* Still, we’ll be on the planet for a few days, it’d be nice to get to know you a bit better.
Obi-Wan: *blushy blushy* Oh, um, okay. That sounds nice. Anakin too?
Mimi: Yeah, O’ben, Anakin too.
Anakin: *snuggling against his master’s shoulder* We should all go to the room of a thousand fountains. It’s bigger. Less crowded. My mom works in the garages, she can come too?
Mimi: *absolutely enchanted with little baby grandson just like Obi-Wan is* Yeah, I’d like to meet her.
179 notes · View notes
friskebits · 5 months
Text
CASEY JR IS SO SILLY SO HAVE A RANT ON HIM! So, we all know he was raised in an apocalypse, and there aren't any real life examples of how living like that would effect someone, but! I've been taking a intro to psych for a few months now and I might be wrong on a few things here so feel free to add onto this if u want :3 Moving on, you ever heard of Maslow's Hierarchy? No? Well here it is (and if you have just bear with me for a moment)
Tumblr media
The way this hierarchy works is that in order to get to self-actualization, which is extremely hard to do in a normal world already, you need to have all the rows of this pyramid fulfilled, and Casey Jr was failed from step one. Obviously he was loved and cared for, but love and familial relationships come after physical needs. You can't build a pyramid starting from the third layer. Obviously the Turtles and Casey Sr and April tried their hardest but it's really hard to take care of a baby, especially with limited recourses and its safe to assume that every now and then he went hungry or was cold and didn't get enough rest, especially throughout his childhood. Obviously he grew up used to his unfortunate life so I'd like to think he sorta lived his own version version of this hierarchy, an unfulfilled one. Now with all of that out of the way, it's so wholeheartedly heartbreaking that this kid will never reach self-actualization which is literally basically just actually enjoying life, being creative, having fun in general pretty consistently. This fucking kid was failed from step one, and will probably never reach his full potential!
He was raised centered around one thing, stop the kraang. Having your entire life centered around one goal is really unhealthy, especially since he knows absolutely nothing outside of that goal. His entire conscious and unconscious mind is occupied with that goal. Even when he's safe and consciously is perfectly aware of his safety, his unconscious mind doesn't know that. Being in fight-or-flight mode for long periods of time isn't sustainable, it'll literally kill you, and he's been in fighting mode his entire life, sudden changes in setting and environment are gonna trigger that fight or flight response HARD. His first few weeks or months or hell even years with the present turtles is gonna be filled with him getting SO pissed at himself for still treating his life like he's gonna die at every turn, not to mention again going back to the pyramid, all of a sudden he's thrown into a place where he can fix himself and reach his full potential, but it's extremely possible that his constant need for a survival situation is a cardinal trait and he might not want to! It's very easy to get used to being scared, and it's very easy to assume he got really used to it.
Typically speaking after an extreme high (for Casey Jr, going to the past and saving the world) you get stuck in an extreme low. The relief we can tell he feels at the end of the movie is gonna be gone and fast. Not to mention the stress of being in an entirely new environment with people he knows that don't know him, being in a place where everyone else hasn't been failed in such a fundamental way the way he was, set up for failure from step one? This kid is NOT going to be okay for a VERY long time- and that's stacked on top of YEARS of ptsd and watching everyone he loves die, his entire being is out of place in the present and he breaks my heart because when you're in a place where you're so flawed, completely by yourself and stuck with people who will never understand your life, you're completely and utterly fucked.
(tags for friembs :3 @clanofjones @paytato435)
35 notes · View notes
mj-iza-writer · 2 months
Text
Oc in three
Thanks again to @writingphoenix.
Rule: introduce a character with three images.
I won't tag anyone this round. If you want to do this do it.... it's fun.
Sp Special Containment: Jaimie.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Jaimie has two personalities that keeps Mcgee on her toes.
One is super girly and bubbly. She is quick to switch though. She is very deadly and tricky though.
Aramais says she is a little devil, but he still wants to take care of her.
Still not sure if I'm supposed to share what the pics mean but you know I have to.
Ghostly person standing on field: Jaimie was kidnapped at young age by the Human Weapon organization. Because of her disappearance she wouldn't feel comfortable going home, and she doesn't quite feel visible tobthe real world.
Heel on hand: Jaimie was raised by the facility and in turn they were able to shape her into the perfect assassin. She always feels better in heels though.
Bloody person holding Teddy bear: because of her being kidnapped at a young age, she lost a lot of her childhood. She resorts back to having a childlike nature when she feels safe to do it. I like to think Jaimie has stickers all over her holdings cell because Mcgee brings them in.
☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️
I'm going to do Whumpee's as well. This will b3 Whumpee from Sp Special Containment.
Just a reminder Whumpee is genderless.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Whumpee is baby... and everyone but Mitch would agree. A dangerous baby, but none the less.
Not much is known on how Whumpee ended up becoming a human weapon, they barely remember what happened.
They were so lucky to get Mitch as a trainer. That impatient ass was told to break Whumpee any means necessary. Whumpee had worked so hard to hold onto what little they had left.
Honestly Aramais doesn't even know what Mitch did to Whumpee, but Aramais will protect Whumpee at any cost now.
Pic time:
Person with shadows: Whumpee has severe mental health problem thanks to Mitch. They have been known to lose control of their survival mode when having an episode. Their inner world is brutal.
Patient being helped: This made me instantly think of Caretaker. It was the best move for Caretaker to take over Whumpee. Whumpee needed the patient understanding love from him to help them get settled into the facility.
Holding a Teddy bear: Whumpee is still young, the organization ruined a lot of Whumpee's childhood as well. They love these soft objects so much, and it makes it so much better to hug one.
Should I do the Director and four caregivers next?
15 notes · View notes
gentrychild · 2 years
Note
Do you have any Hisashi Midoriya headcanons? (Besides what I'm sure is the obvious DfO one)
Everything in his home is made for tall people, leaving Inko and Izuku casually climbing on a chair every time they need to pick something up. Yes, even when he's home and right there and willing to help.
Isn't a neglectful father when he is home? He changed the diapers, he checked under the bed for monsters, and so on.
Took his wife's last name because he didn't want his parents' family name to survive.
Gets anxious when his family members don't have an appetite.
Has a habit of picking up his wife and going about his business.
Tries to do the same with his son but the little shit has the uncanny ability of knowing when he is about to do it and escaping it.
Is extremely good at eluding questions.
Will bitch for years when a brand he is used to is discontinued.
Invest in family owned business specifically so he doesn't have to find a new tailor/restaurant/hairdresser and so on.
DC comic book fan.
Has written fanfiction deconstructing Captain Hero's motives and proving by A + B that he sucks.
Gets bored extremely easily. He is often starved for entertainment and he can put himself in danger for it.
His toddler kicked him out of his own office because he wanted to keep using the computer.
Animals really don't like him.
Wanted a white tiger as a pet when he was little. When his mom got pregnant again, he argued that he would still prefer a pet tiger to a sibling.
Has seen things during the Dawn of Quirks, as a child, that would have left a grown man traumatized.
He was his parents' favorite and perfect heir. It didn't save them from him.
Was in survival mode during the Dawn of Quirks, until his little brother's death. Then, living was more of a habit than a priority.
Got out of his depression when he realized Second has OFA and that something from his brother had survived.
Speaks several languages.
Has a Tumblr account.
Is one of those people who naturally don't need to sleep much at night.
Never targeted someone's pet to punish them. But children are fair game.
Has black hair for most of his childhood and teenage years, unlike his little brother.
Went hero (well, vigilante) for two weeks when he was young to see what all the fuss was about. Still doesn't get the appeal. His little brother doesn't know and would lose his mind if he learned about it.
Hates hiking and camping.
Mumbles about quirks.
Has programmed himself a bartender so he would be forced to listen to his rants.
I stand by the headcanon that Endeavor and him would absolutely get along if they met outside of the whole hero and villain thing.
Wasn't aware that Banjo was a OFA holder when he decided to kill him. Banjo is just that annoying.
Gran Torino and him had a thing at some point.
Can't remember names and remembers people thanks to their quirks.
Has a bunch of completely useless quirks he takes just because he can.
Petty as hell.
Fire Breath was the first quirk he stole.
413 notes · View notes