Long post ahead! I just wanted to share some thoughts on the latest Fundy-Wilbur Lore stream, and it turned out to be a bit of a ramble, so apologies for that! Hope you enioy reading :]
//TW for talk about suicide and spoilers for the stream
You know what makes the stream even more gutwrenching for me?
At the start of the stream, Wilbur asked Fundy if he wanted to hang out. He hasn’t talked to his son in years and wants to at least try to have som fun with him
And when Fundy, after a small pause as if he was suprised that Wilbur actually asked- he says yes. Even though he knows his father left him -was the first one to abandon him- cause he knows a part of him still misses his dad, despite everything
And Wilburs answer? His little “Yeah?”. A question cause he’s suprised. He’s shocked that his son actually thinks spending time with him would be worth it. Even though they left of on..bad terms, to say the least.
But you know what really gets me? The way Wilbur says that. His quiet “Yeah?”, his reassurance that his son still loves him enough to be around him?
He sounds like he’s two seconds away from crying on the spot.
He sounds so happy- to hear that yes, he finally has a chance to fix this- to give his Funster, his little trans furry- his son, at least one good memory of the two before he goes.
Because he knows Fundy is mad with him, he paused when Fundy screamed about Wilbur never leaving sarcastically. Because Wilbur knows that he wasn’t there for his son when he should’ve been during Pogtopia and the Elections. He’s at least starting to acknowledge his death had an effect on others. Including Fundy.
So he desperately tries to have fun with his son, to go teach him how to fish, to play an hilariously awful play of Catch with him. Wilbur apologizes, cause as he said- it feels like nature to him- and tells his son that as long as Fundy is happy, he’ll be alright.
Even if that happyness is without him in the picture. Even if it is with his rival. Even if he never gets to see his son again.
If Fundy is happier without him, he can understand and respect that. Fundy has every right to do so.
But when Wilbur asks if Fundy will remember what they did together? The fishing? The play of Catch? His apology?
He’s met with silence.
And Wilbur takes that as a No, his son doesn’t even want the memory of him, which is alright. It hurts, yes, but if his son is happier he’ll swallow the hurt down.
But then Fundy says he set his spawn far away, how he isnt really friends with anyone in Las Nevadas, how he doesnt plan on contacting anyone anymore and just get away-
Wilbur gets a twisted kind of deja vu, he sees himself in Pogtopia where his son is standing, near the edge of the plattform. He even outright says that he thinks Fundy is heading down a dangerous path.
He doesnt want his son to go down the same path he did, he doesnt want the literal hell he was in for years to happen to Fundy- his own son.
But he’s to late.
Hell, Wilbur barely even had time to react before he saw Fundy jumping off.
Its how Wilburs hope- his immense joy to finally have a chance to end off on good terms with someone- how at first he can at least bite down the pain at Fundy justifyably not forgiving him and not wanting to talk to him-
and how it turns out that no, it gets worse, he has to see the after-effects of his son going through the same pain as he did in Pogtopia-
the only difference being that Fundy wasn’t a grand president, he never got to be, and how everyone actually turned on him and abandoned him, Wilbur included, while Wil during Pogtopia was only consumed by Paranoia to think so
And finally getting to expirience the feeling Phil, Tommy, Niki, Fundy himself and hell even Quackity had to go through when he first left.
And now Wil has to deal with the fact that he knew what Fundy must’ve felt like- he literally has felt it himself, and realize that he was to late
To late, cause he avoided even thinking of his son to avoid the painful memories, and when he finally talks and apologizes to him?
He was to late to finally be there for his son when he was struggling
And to thinking of that in hindsight while rewatching the stream, when seeing him barely get out the quiet “Yeah?”
It feels like a punch in the gut
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I think Deku has a bit of a mean streak, actually. he’s no Bakugou—that’s for sure—but he’s not this innocent, sweet angel baby that the media has painted him out to be. but you only catch it when you least expect it, when you’re pushing his nerves, when the stakes to everything around him are high, when he’s tired of endless sleepless nights and just—snaps.
“Oh?” you go, grin unfurling like some grinch, chin resting on your hands as you leer at him from across his expansive desk. “You’re mean.” your words are teasing, a snarl that curls your mouth up. Deku stutters, eyes going wide, jaw snapping shut in surprise as he tries to think back on how rude he just sounded.
“No, I’m not—I mean, you wouldn’t stop and I just—there’s a lot on my plate right now—and you just—you keep on—I’m not—I’m not mean.” He’s sputtering, hands all over the place, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling even lower with how he jabbers on and on. it’s endearing really, to see how he tries to upkeep his image of being so kind and understanding, even though his nostrils just flared at you. and his eyebrows turned down and he gritted at you, his hands were balled into fists, his words were so nasty, so ugly, so unbecoming for Deku.
you liked it. loved it even—vowed to get him like this every single fucking second that you could.
you pick and poke at him whenever you see him, teasing him and pulling at him. pushing him around even though the hero is so much stronger than you, so much bigger. and he lets you, tries to defend himself but—that’s not what you want. you want the ugliness, the snark, the mean.
he snaps, eventually, when you least expect it. grabs you up in black whip when you go to push him against the wall for the third time in only a minute, his eyes suddenly dark, the aura of the room suddenly charged.
“That’s what I was looking for.” you whisper to him, the grin spreading your face quickly dissipating in only seconds when you become the prey. when you become the one pushed up against the wall with teeth at your neck, a hand in your underwear, bullying your hole with too thick fingers.
“Why do you want me to act like this? Be so mean to you, huh?” he sounds so frustrated with himself, with you, growling and nipping and licking when you don’t answer quick enough. but your breath is caught in your lungs because finally—finally, did you get what you wanted. it just took a little bit of pushing, you suppose.
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Getting way too ahead of myself thinking of smut ideas this morning where Reader and Matt in The Devil at Your Window can have sex (far later from now) and Reader still can't see his face but Matt won't be wearing the mask so she can actually feel his face and just--
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