#WE DISREGARD CANON FOR A BIT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The total number of visits Tumblr.com received during January 2021 is 327 million.

#WE DISREGARD CANON FOR A BIT

regallibellbright · 2 years

Text

All right, I think writing things out last night got me a better outline for the tricky section. (Step One: Acknowledge that no one will care about dates being strenuously correct per the very few, very BRIEF shots that show them but you. Step Two: Decide not to care.)

Now I just need to figure out where to put a line that I want for foreshadowing once I rearrange things. Somewhere in Draft Two probably so I can actually get the rest of the fic finished.

#because if I go back and edit now it WILL get stuck forever #I’m willing to disregard canon but there’s not a ton of room for it once we hit Episode Six #so that bit might just need to be cut entirely but I DO want it there as a character beat #so I’ll work something out.

0 notes

littlesmartart · 6 months

Text

DRAWTOBER #16 - a micro utopia born as the overture plays by tardigradeschool

Lan Xichen pauses before he speaks. He often does. “A-Yao, will you…?” There are any number of things that Lan Xichen might be about to say. He might be about to say, “A-Yao, will you cook breakfast while I bathe in the river?” But then, there is a gravity to his tone, and a flush on his cheeks. So perhaps it will be, “A-Yao, will you do that thing with your tongue?” Or even more thrillingly, “A-Yao, will you teach me how to do that thing with your tongue?” Lan Xichen does not say any of these things. He says, “A-Yao, will you marry me? If we both survive the war, will you marry me?” . Lan Xichen proposes before the war. Somehow, through the property of transitivity, Wei Wuxian becomes Meng Yao’s problem to solve.

usually I find AUs were Meng Yao chooses a relationship/marriage over joining the Jins somewhat unrealistic and a bit OOC, but this one somehow really just works. Meng Yao never stops being his sneaky, sharp, scheming self just because he becomes Lan Xichen's husband, and it gives us the wonderful trope of him winding up fixing half of canon's issues because LXC needs to be happy > therefore LWJ needs to be happy > therefore WWX needs to not be dying of malnutrition in the burial grounds. and we all know that Meng Yao's love language is Solve Your Problems For You. overall it's a very fun and sweet little AU that hits that very indulgent what if without patronising Meng Yao or disregarding his personality.

#xiyao #lan xichen #meng yao #lan qiren #the untamed #drawtober 2023 #drawtober

834 notes · View notes

sualne · 3 months

Text

Crocodad AU Story overview from mid prologue to the end of Arc 2, checks out the current timeline of published comics to remember where we left of. Does not include the Strawhat whereabouts. Anything is up to change but that's the gist of it.

Warning for blood, injuries and general angst.

Luffy is easy to read as autistic and dyslexic in canon, i wanted to see what it would be like accumulating learning disabilities in an AU where he's expected to study, the struggles that comes from it. Again, disabled ppl being disabled is important to me, all that.

Not mentioned here but Luffy is upset with his father already with his constant plotting, all the plants are dead now and there's a lot less ppl outside when he goes out with Robin. He doesn't fully understand what's going on but know it his fault and in order to take over Alabasta. On multiple occasions he makes it clear he doesn't want to be prince or have anything to do with Baroque Works.

That feeling of helplessness born from Crocodile's disregard for his feeling and really, own sense of personhood, is a problem through the whole of the story until Arc 7 when Crocodile has to face the fact that his kid is a whole person. The actual quote in my note is "once again he's incapable of seeing luffy as his own capable (unhinged) person".

Also Miss Mini Sorbet gets injured trying to protect Luffy when he's being tied up, that's how she gets her scar and why Crocodile insist she's not a bodyguard.

Unlike in canon Luffy doesn't magically recover from being stabbed, he still magically survive and recovers pretty well considering he's been impaled but still, i like when things have a little bit of consequences health wise. The exact nature of his new condition stays a mystery until Arc 4, though there's plenty of clues through the arcs.

Arc 2 is all text. I didn't want to draw an entire crowd of ppl fighting but there's lots of vivid imagery in my mind.

#crocodad au #my art #undescribed #whoospies. misclicked and posted this early without tags. ok good correction done. ran out of brain to write. thanks for loving this au #ilyall for your comments ty

319 notes · View notes

dimepdf · 11 months

Text

★ 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. Just when you needed him the most, Miguel was the one to save you.

─── ☆ notes. I haven’t seen the new Spiderverse movie yet, so no spoilers, but my tiktok fyp is starving for Miguel, so just something short and kind of emotionalish leaning more towards the personal self insert. I don't know, sorry if its too selfish and angsty. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

You were dying—well, at least soon to be dead.

You couldn't grasp onto time as you continued to fall, windows flitting past your body as the wind carried you closer and closer to your demise.

You never would have thought the whole expression "life flashing before your eyes" to be something that you would have ever experienced, but there you were with the world's biggest migraine free falling from some ten-story building you got kicked off of just because you wanted to play the hero.

You were cutting through the air quicker than dead weight.

All you could do was stare up at your super mutant recent friends fighting for their lives, and it was ironic how you were the only one without the possibility of saving yourself.

You could see the moonlight above the clouds. The farther you plummet, the harder the building's rooftop is to see from the growing distance.

As the heavy breeze combed through your hair, your body felt numb, your fingers brushing through the air as your ears rang with each thud of your heartbeat.

You wanted to thank your emotions for washing away the fear as the tears blurred your vision. There was no point in fighting.

You were falling.

You were going to die.

Your eyes were closed before your body jerked through the air involuntarily. The cradle of your limbs smacked hard against someone's broad chest, leaving you grasping for more air in your lungs.

Two strong arms cradling you close from the whiplash of being snatched up in midair, you trembled in the strangers' hands, holding every nerve in your body fried as your bones felt as limb as the day you were born.

It was a shameless embrace of the familiar blue and red suit your brain somehow managed to recognize through its panic disguised as your guardian angel.

Tucking your head in the crook of their neck as they threw themselves through the sky, you held as tightly as your arms would let you, making a mental note to apologize for practically sobbing in Miguel’s ear.

He didn't seem to mind at all with his arm hooked around your thigh, only tightening harder as you could only manage to form a few broken sentences thanking him for saving your life.

You could tell how he actually felt; his reaction hid behind the blank, emotionless-eyed mask covering his features.

It wasn't until he had landed on the flat ground that you were able to fully collect yourself.

Your legs felt numb as Miguel tried to set you down as gently as he possibly could. You could only picture his annoyance when his hands reached out to brace you once more as your knees buckled.

In memory, you would no doubt feel embarrassed of yourself tripping face first into his chest, comparable to Bambi, as Miguel helped you stand on your two feet, who had disregarded his mask with a quick tug, his brown hair fluffed out.

His mean grimace was replaced with something of concern, and his dark, thick brows pulled together as his mouth parted from the permanent frown carved against his lips.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Your stance stumbling as he yanked you out of trance, fingers tight dug into both of your forearms. "You’re okay, you're alive."

Crying was starting to become a bit tiring as another sob carried up from your throat, the tears forming a knot and stopping you from speaking even as his grasp traveled up to your face in a much more gentle and warming hold.

Miguel asses you once more and hesitatingly pulls you into his chest, your arms clutching onto him like your life depended on it as he's wrapped around your torso as you allow him to embrace you.

Sure, the pain that you felt wasn't at all physical, and the dull emotional ache that hammered your heart distracted you from asking why Miguel hugged you so tight.

🍀 ...

tap here to be added to taglist.

#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #marvel #Spiderverse #into the spider verse

752 notes · View notes

stardustdiiving · 8 months

Text

Wanderer doesn’t hide the fact he likes Nahida

I totally get Wanderer being snarky is a funny punchline but sometimes I see Wanderer portrayed as being super snappy and mean in response to Nahida trying to be nice to him and I can’t help being like no!!!!!! He wouldn’t do that to her!! :(

Often people seem to think their dynamic is Wanderer being grouchy & mean & telling her to screw off all the time because he doesn’t want to admit he ~actually enjoys Nahida’s company~ but man like. Wanderer isn’t some edgy moody teenager that Nahida has to keep on a leash and scold regularly whenever he acts out—he’s a grown man who’s actually pretty emotionally perceptive/intelligent when he wants to be in my opinion—he’s just very blunt and cynical and often rude/harsh as a result

Wanderer hates sugarcoating his emotions & if him liking Nahida is majorly because he feels she’s proven it’s more or less safe to trust her, i don’t think he has any reason to hide the fact he genuinely respects her and is regularly open about this when he interacts about her in canon. He may grumble about her requests or emotional earnesty because, well, it’s Wanderer, but imo if he were regularly snappy/mean to Nahida even in an “all-bark-no-bite” way we would’ve see them interact like that on screen already—but we don’t, and the fact that’s now how does treat her is a part of their dynamic I find very endearing and enjoy a lot—so I want to highlight it!

Like…look at how he talks to/about her even just going off of inversion of genesis alone:

I feel hes noticeably more cordial and cooperative with Nahida compared to say, Traveler & Paimon—he doesn’t try to intentionally provoke her for fun (or out of spite in the case of early IoG) the way he does with us/Traveler, both in Inversion of Genesis and Parade of Providence. He spends all of PoP intentionally trying to act suspicious/up to no good to mess with the Traveler & Paimon whenever we run into him—and then we get to the end of the event and find out Nahida just… asked him to monitor the event to make sure there wasn’t any trouble (+ wanted him to make friends LOL).

Like we literally see Nahida playfully tease him on screen and he doesn’t snap or get really grouchy with her…he just tolerates it like a mildly disgruntled cat

Which is…cute! I think it’s very endearing, especially when I don’t feel Nahida is usually playful like this unless she considers them an equal/friend—it feels like maybe she picks up on his energy a bit and adjusts her sense of humor/friendliness accordingly so it’s more intuitive/comfortable for both of them

Everyone jokes about Nahida dragging Wanderer into socializing and making friends right—which is true and something I think is very silly & fun, but again…while Wanderer may grumble about it I don’t think he’s actively mad or fighting with her about it even hyperbolically. Look at how he responds to Nahida telling him she wants to help him reach out to people in Parade of Providence:

This, combined with how he mentions feeling about Nahida not wanting him to isolate & be lonely in his birthday letter (“I can see that she was looking for a chance to make my life more fulfilling, but has she ever stopped to think about what an "experience" it is for others to meet me?”) gives me less an impression Wanderer is outwardly indignant and grouchy about Nahida trying to help him and more like…openly appreciative of the gesture but just doesn’t really think he’s worth the effort

I again think the specific way his responses to her trying to help him emotionally are always worded again show a distinct respect he has for Nahida as a person, and he seems genuinely grateful by the fact she gave him a second chance when, given how internally harsh Wanderer is about things and himself and how much he’s internalized expecting to be used or disregarded by others constantly unless he fights tooth and nail to not be, he probably didn’t expect any sort of grace at all post losing the gnosis, much less having someone seem to genuinely believe in him & want him to be happy/stable when he took said offered chance

I just think Wanderer is someone who cares a lot about being straightforward, especially about things that really move him emotionally, and think it’s really sweet he feels moved enough by Nahida’s encouragement & goodwill towards him to genuinely want to try with life. I get so sad when It seems like people think Wanderer is too like, emotionally immature or jaded to ever care to express how he feels about Nahida even in his own blunt, recovering nihilist way (when he explicitly does in canon IMO) and have him be snarky & grouchy to Nahida constantly, or believe he’d find her being good naturedly silly/childish annoying and scoff at her for it (people seem to think he hates children when he canonically does not and is quite fond of them!! I personally think some of that soft spot comes from finding childish earnestness + innocence kind of bittersweetly cathartic/comforting to see and would be something he’d actively like about Nahida!!) 😔

This is something I always try to portray in my own fanworks of them I just like it a lot, I want people to see the vision!!! Their relationship is very mutual on effort put in from both sides & Wanderer is more open about respecting Nahida than you may believe—which means he actively tries to acknowledge her kindness towards him and she doesn’t have to babysit him or drag him into cooperating with her all the time! And I find it very touching and sweet!

#scarmouche #nahida #wanderer #genshin #hat radish #I had a lot of fun writing this post if you can’t tell. I love talking about my hat radishes #maybe this is too long for ppl to want to read but that doesn’t stop me….we ball #wanderer nahida friendship agenda & my insane passion for characterization are eternal #fern.txt #fandomferns

450 notes · View notes

pageofheartdj · 3 months

Text

All jokes and horny aside(I do love horny and specific position only🙏 and them fighting over everything always ever and ooc fun scenarious) radioapple are so interesting to think about, about their dynamics, and the characters in general. So I will!

As they are in canon now, Lucifer did not care for Alastor plus the general disgust(and guilt) towards sinners. And then the song happened and Alastor became Lucifer's enemy number one xD If Alastor will drop it, Lucifer won't have a reason to hate on him, but initial negative imperssion is still there.

And Alastor, he is a mysterious guy. The abusive dad is still a theory, him being momma boy and therefore connecting with women better doesn't say anything about his dad situation. The Lilith's deal is also just a theory for now. So for me his immediate negative reaction comes from the same place as his annoyance at Carmilla disregarding him. He wants to be on the top, the most unknown, the most powerful one, the most scary one. He loves attention, he loves keeping everyone alert with his antics.

And he loves being in control, his plans going exactly the way he wants them, not that he can't improvise. He immediately tenses when he sees the sign welcoming dad, he knows. The King of Hell has the ultimate power, the ultimate influence, the ultimate importance. Alastor does not mind someone being more than him in something like he is politely neutral with Zestial. But the hotel carries importance for Alastor's plans so he feels threatened. Before with Charlie's daddy issues I guess he did not expect to see him anytime soon. But here he is, threatening to pull Charlie from his influence, from her needing his powers.

But then we see him being completely chill and not antagonistic at all. One of the reasons I think is that he let his stim out, for a reason being restricted in his activities, the deals he can make, the souls he can take, the kills. And because Charlie needed Lucifer to arrange a meeting with Heaven, something that only Lucifer can do. And that's it. So he lets go for a bit.

Who knows what dynamic season 2 will bring, now that Lucifer stays at the hotel and Alastor took a hard blow at his ego and reputation.

In the wiki it is stated Alastor dislikes people who are like him, but likes people who are more like him, but who knows where is this line. He also said to like Willy Wonka character for being an entertainer and a dick. And Lucifer was told to be like that character. For now Lucifer is a depressed sad baby, but we saw how he can be when he is fucking with others. Alastor likes fun, no matter how this fun is done. Potentially he can enjoy Lucifer's presence. Not to mention, he respects power, at least when the whatever deal with Alastor is done, potentially.

Don't know how prevalent this is now, but both seem to enjoy collecting certain things, like ducks and those firby toys. Both were drawn to dance-vibe with each other.

Speaking of, both love music and play instruments, they can totally jam with each other, making their own little concerts.

Lucifer's idea of sinners will be definetely challenged with Alastor. It's one thing to meet a nice sinner and think 'ah they are not like everyone else'. But it's a completely different thing when this sinner is exactly what you hate about them, the maniac who loves violence. And then you have to come to terms that even THEY can become better, can have something to them. Lucifer drowned himself in guilt and shame, it would be nice to get a bit in touch with people in Hell. Because it seems like he stays away from most things sinners bring with themselves.

Alastor was told to like theatres, so it would be nice for them to go together, to try and see something good from humanity even in Hell. Something that can still keep not being corrupted. And humans creativity and artistism can definetely spark more hope back to Lucifer.

And I think Lucifer would appreciate someone who treats him as equal, it doesn't look like he cares much about being a King, so having someone who will not shy away at punching first can be good.

Lucifer's main support of course would be Charlie(and hopefully hotel crew), but having someone who he can rely to get things actually done is pleasant. He is a King of Hell but he doesn't often act like one, he surely will benefit from someone who can act appropriately spooky. (He can get scary, but I think he needs to get MAD mad for this side of him to appear and at that point you better have Charlie around to calm him down)

And they have to keep the beef part of their interactions, it's just fun to have someone you can freely argue with with no hard feelings afterwards, just a battle of words, their interests don't always aligning. And it's fun to mindlessly banter about them. Like their sweet and bitter food preference, or cooking techniques, etc. Small irrelevant things, or maybe even some clash of ideals, but it is oh so fun to let yourself go lose and not hold back.

It would be nice for them to develop mutual respect and learn to care about each other's boundaries, be it the painful personal history, or choices of leading the relationship.

Yes, the aroace situation. Start with simple, I do not believe Lucifer is straight(nor NT xD) and he is perfectly sex-positive(he started with no experience and no shame either xD). He is more on a demi spectrum for me, getting excitedly horny only with close people(one-times can happen, it's a grey(literally) area). And Alastor... he is touch-aversed until you are close, then the touching is required(both gentle and playful and rough, depending if he wants to sooth himself or get energised or let the stim out). The same with the bed situation. He gets attracted long after all the other bonds are formed. He is sex-indifferent, never wanted with anyone so never went there. He is perfectly content with himself. And when it starts, yet again, depending on what it feels like in the moment.(cannibalism was not the only thing he grew to like in Hell(¬‿¬))

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel alastor #radioapple

176 notes · View notes

siilvan · 8 months

Text

bloodsport – III

prologue | part one | part two | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: after a successful escape, you try to convince yourself that the prison and makarov are behind you. things just never seem to go to plan, though.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: not proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, poorly written combat, allusions to trauma and stress, mentions of typical murderous behavior from makarov (∶__∶), OG mak's backstory bc we don't know shit about the reboot lol

word count: 5.9k

note: my birthday's on the 3rd, so pls take this as a gift from me to you :) the support on this series has also been insane 😭 you guys are so sweet!! <33

also big shoutout to @roosterr bc i completely copied the way she writes texts in fics LMAO i hope it's okay with you bestie ilysm

"anyone else would be dead already."

what the hell does that mean?

you're lying on your back, absently staring up at the ceiling, those words replaying in your mind over and over again. yet another week has passed since "the incident," as the guards in the corridor so kindly put it.

clearly makarov had given his men a new order after you killed the younger doctor. not only did they avoid touching you, but they hardly even looked in your direction outside of required monitoring. doctor tarkovsky was singlehandedly providing your medical care, as well. the next time you saw the doctor - the morning after the incident - proved to be an interesting experience. while treating you, he made a comment about "the commander seeming angry."

you add it to your ever-growing list of questions.

blaring alarms interrupt your somewhat peaceful pondering. you shoot up, instinctively reaching for your belt to grab your gun, only to be reminded that you're unarmed. the guards in the hall are shouting at each other, appearing just as surprised as you are.

carefully, you rise from the bed and cross the room, trying to listen to what they're saying. if there was one benefit to your captivity, it was the small bit of russian that you've picked up on. amongst the frantic chatter, you can make out a few words:

attack. small team. breached. combat. prisoner.

your chest tightens as you step back from the door. the base is under attack, and whomever is leading the charge is enough of a threat to raise the alarms. a small team could never hope to contend with an entire ultranationalist stronghold, though. there's only one man, one team, that could succeed despite being so heavily outnumbered.

the one-four-one.

it has to be them. they're the only ones bold enough to stage an attack, and the only ones capable of pulling it off.

even if it's someone else, they're your ally now, and your only hope of making it out of here alive.

you can see the guards scrambling outside your cell, frantically following whatever orders were being barked at them through their radios. for now, they seem to disregard your presence in favor of organizing their forces to combat the threat, but you know it won't last. contrary to the size of the prison, you're the only captive being held here; any mention of "prisoner" is referring to you.

the area quiets down as most of the men rush to aid their fellow soldiers, leaving only the alarm to keep you company. you mentally curse as you consider your very limited options. without a set of keys to escape this cell, you're stuck here.

a purposeful set of footsteps rapidly approaching makes the decision for you. quickly, you dive just out of sight of the door, pressing your back to the wall. the person stops just outside and grumbles to himself as you hear the sound of keys jingling in the lock. the iron door swings open, and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep quiet as he stares into the empty space, confusion evident in the grunt that leaves him.

a second passes before he steps into the room, scanning the far side of it. your eyes fall to the knife on his belt, easily removable if you're fast enough, and you dive for it before he can turn around.

you tear the blade from its sheath and swiftly plunge it into the side of his neck, ripping a strangled cry from the soldier as he reacts too slowly to save himself. you pull him to the ground and lay his body flat, releasing a sharp breath once you confirm the kill. temporary relief floods your system, hastening your movements as you collect as much of his gear as you can.

immediately after you secure the last strap of the armor vest, you hear voices calling out from somewhere close by. searching for the guy you just killed, you assume. with one final gear check, you move to the same spot against the wall and wait for the group to get closer.

the first of the bunch steps into the room and freezes at the sight of the other man, and you take the opportunity to drop him with the rifle you had collected. the remaining members, two or three men, are quick to respond once the gunshots ring out. you peek around the corner as they rush forward with their guns drawn, electing to start the gunfight yourself.

you manage to shoot one down before the others notice you. a bullet whizzes past your head as you aim down the barrel and shoot another, forcing you to duck back into cover.

"you're cornered. come out and i'll let you live." the final soldier says, frustration lacing his command. you sit still, lying in wait until his impatience overpowers his better judgement. a tense silence fills the air between you, only broken by the soldier groaning and coming to you instead.

he circles the corner, weapon at the ready, but scans the room in too wide an arc. you finish him off and peek out into the hall again, finding it completely vacant.

the radios on the soldiers bodies suddenly come to life, and you hear a familiar voice on the other end. you pick one of them up and attempt to decipher the question to no avail. however, there is one word that you understand. prisoner.

"you should've sent a bigger group," you speak into the radio, feeling your lips twitch into a smile at the way makarov stops short.

he merely chuckles, though, and the smile drops. "you continue to impress me, lieutenant. let's see if you can escape." he replies, relaxed as ever. he switches channels, and the radio goes silent.

you travel down the path you took the first day, when makarov was accompanying you. there's little resistance beyond a few stragglers that you dispatch with ease. most of the forces are focused on the invaders, too busy to properly deal with you as you attack from behind. the number of enemies ahead of you increases the further you go - a sign that you're heading in the right direction.

eventually, you reach an exterior door and push it open.

to say the situation is chaotic would be an understatement. soldiers are hurrying across fields, arming themselves and their allies, shouting out various commands and information. you duck low and stick to the shadows, doing your best to avoid a firefight now that the enemy solidly has the advantage.

you make some distance and perk up at the sounds of gunfire. you've stumbled across the main battle. with a renewed sense of hope to push you forward, you go towards it, ending up crouched next to an APC as you search through the chaos for any friendly faces.

one of the nearby vehicles erupts into flames moments later, catching you off-guard and stealing your attention from the fight. scrambling to your feet, you stiffen as something smooth and cold is pressed against the back of your skull. the barrel of a gun. you raise your hands in surrender and pray that the person holding the weapon can be reasoned with.

"wait," a deep voice, husky and all too familiar, speaks from behind you. "petra? 's that you?" the man, captain price, lowers his gun, allowing you to spin around and look at him.

you're almost ready to shed tears upon seeing his face, equal parts concern and relief etched into his hard expression. he grabs ahold of your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as you nod, silently answering his question. a dark figure emerges from behind one of the vehicles at price's back and catches your eye.

the stark white skull mask instantly gives away his identity: ghost. he stops at your side, eyes crinkling behind the mask, and you can tell that he's giving you a happy look.

your eyes leave the pair and scan the area, hunting for the last two members of the team. there's no movement aside from the fighting and chaos in the distance. your gaze flits back to price as a lump begins to form in your throat and every scenario that you've cooked up during your captivity floods into your mind.

"where's soap and gaz?" you ask, voice sounding meek compared to the way you spoke earlier. price, clearly sensing the deeper meaning behind your words, pats your shoulder in a comforting gesture before withdrawing his hand.

"they're here, no need to worry," he starts, motioning for you to follow him. "the sergeants are protecting our backsides, making sure the chopper has a clear path. we're gonna meet 'em at the southside of the prison and exfil from there."

you fall in line with the two, muscle memory all but taking over as you repeat your prior strategy; keep to the shadows and only engage the enemy if absolutely necessary. the location that price described isn't terribly far and shouldn't be difficult to reach, so long as you don't get caught up in too many fights.

ghost contacts the sergeants as you move, updating them on your position. you learn through the conversation that the team came for you, and only you - makarov isn't a concern of theirs, even once you inform price of his presence. we'll slot the bastard once you're back on your feet, he says.

"we're gettin' close, it's just up here." ghost mutters lowly. you tighten your grip on your gun, anticipation steadily building inside of you the closer you get to the rendezvous point. you're this close to freedom, this close to putting this hellish place in the past and reuniting with your team. al-mazrah, the missile, your capture, makarov– all of them would sequester themselves to nothing more than memories.

a black hawk flies overhead before touching down at the designated spot. one of the back doors swing open just as it lands, revealing gaz's smiling face. he steps aside to allow the three of you to board, giving you an eager side-hug as you shuffle past him.

"petra, happy to see you in one piece!" soap's exclamation startles you as much as it overjoys you to hear, and you're suddenly swept up into a bone-crushing hug by the scotsman upon passing gaz.

"soap–! johnny, you're squeezing me too hard–!" you gasp out, still attempting to hug the man back despite your bones being turned to mush from the pressure. he releases you almost as quickly as he scooped you up and mutters an apology. said apology barely registers in your head due to the sight he greets you with, though.

there's a nasty scar over his left eye, jagged and obviously still in the process of healing. soap hardly seems to care about it, instead grinning at you like you were revived from the dead. you tap the area below your own eye to signal to him, brows furrowing in confusion. his hand mirrors your action and his face lights up, an audible "oh" falling from his lips.

"got it in al-mazrah," he says, waving off your worried look. "makes me look pretty cool, right?" he adds with a glance around the cabin, earning an affirmative hum from price and a shrug from ghost.

gaz snorts, slumping down on one of the seats and giving him a thumbs-up. "looks wicked, mate."

you collapse into another seat with a breezy laugh. "i'm just thankful that you're alive, all of you. i was starting to doubt whether you'd come." you confess, sharing a somber look with the rest of them.

ghost breaks the mood with a shake of his head. "'course we came. we're a team, no man left behind." he keeps his gaze locked on you as he talks, bringing an appreciative smile to your lips. your attention shifts to the window at your side, watching the stronghold fade away as the helicopter lifts off the ground and departs. you refuse to tear your eyes away until it disappears over the horizon, allowing you to take a deep breath for the first time in weeks.

⋆⋆⋆

upon arriving in safe territory, you're almost instantly pulled into a brief, but strong hug by laswell, who was waiting on the airstrip as the team landed. you're ushered into the base's medical wing by her and price for a proper checkup, which, thankfully, goes by swiftly. you've had enough of doctors and medicine to last you a lifetime.

"you're sending me home?" you ask, practically jumping up from the examination table you were sitting on. your gaze darts back and forth between price and laswell, irritation boiling under your skin as they try to placate you.

"y'need to rest, petra. you've just been through two weeks of hell." price responds, putting his hand on your shoulder and urging you to sit back down. you shrug it off and shake your head.

"captain, i was given a clean bill of health!" you argue while waving your arms in front of yourself. your wounds from the missile had mostly healed, reduced to minor marks on your skin and a raised scar on your side that was gradually fading. "i just want to get back in the field– i've been out of commission for weeks!"

laswell steps toward you, meeting your gaze with a sympathetic look. "it's protocol, lieutenant. you may be fine enough to work for now, but we can't put you or the team at risk." she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. "you need to recover." she adds a second later, earning a frustrated huff from you.

you know you'd be saying the same thing in their position. if it was price, ghost, soap, gaz– if any of them were captured, you'd be forcing them to take time off, too. you can't shake everything that's happened, though. you don't have much to show in the way of torture-related injuries, but the isolation alone was enough to make your head spin. you never felt safe, always waiting and anticipating makarov's next move. the longer you went without seeing or hearing about him, the more your suspicions grew.

a break would give you the chance to collect your thoughts and break yourself out of the doubt that's been stewing in your head ever since that first meeting. in the field, you need to be confident and decisive. there's no room for hesitation and self-doubt.

"we'll keep you updated," price starts, regarding you with a reassuring smile. "and, this won't be forever. just long enough for you to get your head on straight, yeah?"

you deliberate on it, eyes falling to the floor, and nod slowly. he's right. you're not reliable in this state.

"okay." you concede, focus shifting back to the two.

you're heading out again by the evening, saying your goodbyes to the squad on the very same airstrip that you landed on earlier in the day. soap nearly crushes you in another hug, forcing price to yank him off before you suffocate, gaz reminds you about ten different times to call if you need anything, and ghost runs down a lengthy list of relaxation techniques whilst loading your bags in the helicopter.

it's nigh-impossible to be upset about the situation when it's made clear that they don't want you to go, either. after two weeks of constant stress, everyone just wants to be together again.

you get so caught up in your impromptu partings that you fail to notice the unidentified soldier watching you from across the field. even the ever-attentive captain price misses the soldier dialing a number on his phone, his eyes narrowing as the chopper lifts off with you inside.

⋆⋆⋆

you step foot in your flat well after the sun's gone down. it's silent, save for the soft padding of your socks against the floor after you kick off your boots. your bags are abandoned at the end of your bed, something you'll unpack later, and you shed your jacket before tossing it on top of the pile.

makarov... what's his story?

with a low sigh, you rub at your tired eyes with the heels of your palms and try to erase the question that's been plaguing you for longer than you'd like to admit. between laswell's intel and the stories price has told, you can paint a picture of who the man is.

a person ruled by his ambition, you've determined. while price's stories were more focused on his own experiences with makarov and his allies, what laswell provided was concrete: he massacred civilians like it was nothing. what could possibly drive a man to that point?

the trip back home proved fruitless, with most results online simply listing information deemed "safe" for the public. you need to know more about him - you need a source that isn't going to sugarcoat or hide the ugly truth. most importantly, you need someone who can get you personal details.

you fish your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your contacts list. laswell is an option, but she's not likely to give you anything while you're supposed to be taking time off work.

a name - or rather, a codename - pops up in the list. your thumb hovers over the contact, debating on whether or not to call.

you give in and click the "call" button after a moment's consideration. the line rings until a cheerful voice greets you.

"ah, lieutenant!" nikolai beams, sounding far too energized at this hour. "price told me about the successful prison break, congrats on surviving the ultranationalists."

"thanks, nik." you chuckle at his enthusiasm. "is there any chance i could ask you for a favor? i need information, stuff that i think only you can get." you nervously shift your weight while asking the question, worried that you might be hitting a dead end.

"information? about what?"

"makarov."

nikolai goes quiet, and you think he's going to deny your request. but, just as you open your mouth to justify it, he speaks.

"you want private informaton, yes?" he mutters, causing you to let out a deep breath. "price hasn't told you everything, and you want to research the man that captured you. that is to be expected."

"give me a little time, i'll send you whatever i can find." he continues. you can hear typing in the background after, signaling that he was following through with it. you tell him goodbye with a small "thanks" and hang up, an immense weight lifting off your fatigued shoulders.

a hot shower would be nice right now. you haven't had one in weeks, and nikolai said that gathering everything would take a while. you might as well use the break instead of sitting around and twiddling your thumbs while waiting for him.

you trudge to the bathroom and turn the water on, stripping out of your clothes and leaving your phone on the counter. you hop in the shower and feel your aching muscles relax as soon as the warm water washes over them, soothing weeks of pain and discomfort. when you get out and wrap a towel around yourself, you finally feel relatively at ease for the first time since your escape.

your phone buzzes from nearby, and you blink at the screen after picking it up. a message from nikolai stares back at you.

sent what i have, hope it helps 22:43 pm

thanks, appreciate it! 22:43 pm

i'll let you know if i find anything else 22:44 pm

you quickly dry off and get dressed in more comfortable clothes, grabbing your laptop as you stroll into the living room and get settled on the couch. it only takes a couple minutes to access the files that nikolai sent, and upon seeing a page of folders to look through, you're left shocked at the sheer amount of information he gave.

it's overwhelming, just how much makarov has done in his career - if you can even call international terrorism a "career." you decide to begin at the top of the list, shaking off the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach.

the contents of the folder go from typical, almost expected, crimes from someone like him, to acts that make you understand why price is wary of him. you sift through each file, studying the contents as if you're going to be quizzed on them, each word acting as another nail ripped out of your coffin.

the list of crimes seems endless. kidnapping, torture, trafficking, bombings, assassinations, mass murder... not only are you lucky to be uninjured, you're lucky to be alive. the privilege of being a "special" target, you presume. if not for your position in the task force, you'd be lying dead in a ditch or tortured to the brink of insanity. your stomach churns at the thought.

eventually, you reach a folder named "personal." it lives up to its name, as when you access it, the files are all details about the man himself. some of the basic information is known to you already, but most of it is entirely new - stuff you're sure was intentionally hidden away from curious eyes.

what you can find of his life before he began his reign of terror both answers your questions and adds more to the list. he was a paratrooper, a captain in the spetsnaz, regarded as a master in the field despite the list of complaints on his file. many of the men under his command considered him a natural leader; charismatic, cunning, but harsh in his methods. he received several comments from the higher-ups about his alarming behaviors, but it all came to a head when he was investigated for war crimes. he left the military to avoid the charges.

somehow, the crimes that got him discharged seem mild compared to what he's done since. you can't wrap your brain around why makarov treated you so... kindly, given everything you've read. he should have ended your life or made it a living hell, but instead, you got regular medical treatment, decent conditions, and mostly left alone during your imprisonment.

you sit back from the screen, sluggishly running a hand down your face. makarov didn't fight to keep you captured. if anything, he was happy to let you escape. it doesn't make sense. he went through the effort of capturing you alive and gained nothing from it. for a man that favors the zero-sum game, he's not playing it well.

unless this is his gain. getting in your head, confusing you, forcing you to think about him when you should be focusing on recovering. he's bogging you down, preventing you from being reliable for your teammates.

or, maybe you're looking into things too deeply. overestimating just how clever one man can be.

your phone buzzes from its spot on the cushion, and you blink at the bright screen, squinting to read the notification. it's a text message from an unknown number. a few different people flash through your mind, potential allies that could have changed their numbers recently, but no one stands out. you exhale and click the notification to open up the message fully.

feeling well? 12:35 am

you stare at the message for a minute. it can’t be price or any of the boys, you already have their phone numbers. you highly doubt that laswell changed hers without updating you, and nikolai probably hasn’t change his in the two hours since your last conversation. just as you go to type a response, two more messages pop up.

recovering at home is preferable, isn't it? 12:36 am

much more comfortable than a medical wing. 12:36 am

who is this? 12:37 am

take a guess - m 12:37 am

a chill creeps up your spine as the realization dawns on you. it's makarov; not only does he have your phone number, but he knows you're not at base. he's managed to track your location in less than six hours.

you drop your phone on the coffee table and shoot a wary glance around the room before checking to make sure your front door is locked. once you're sure of it, you start to pace around the room, wringing your hands together. the smart decision would be to call someone - price, laswell, one of the boys, someone that can get here quickly or send a person in their place.

you're not defenseless by any means, but there's no telling what makarov knows. he could be halfway across the world or in the very same city, and you have no way of finding out without putting yourself at risk. you may have gotten lucky in al-mazrah, but you can't rely on luck.

your phone lights up again, and from your position a few feet away, you can just barely make out what the screen says.

let's talk, lieutenant. 12:40 am

no fucking way. you're not entertaining the madman that you just escaped.

you need to get out; take a walk, clear your head. makarov knows where you are, but that doesn't mean he's actually here. for all you know, it could be a lucky guess. you throw on a jacket and slip on a pair of shoes before shoving your phone in your pocket, hastily stumbling out the door. the crisp night air hits you the second you step out, making you draw your jacket tighter around yourself as you start down the sidewalk.

your brisk - practically panicked - walk does little to calm your nerves initially. you have to force yourself to slow down, strolling along at a more leisurely pace. after a couple minutes, your shoulders droop and the panic begins to dissipate.

the late hour means that you're the only person out right now. all you have for company is the occasional breeze that sweeps past, and you think that you prefer it this way.

until your phone buzzes. you stop dead in your tracks and pick it up, letting out a relieved breath at soap's name flashing on the screen. you answer the call with an easy smile.

"hey! i didn't expect you to pick up," soap laughs on the other end. "realized how late it was after dialin' your number." he adds, pulling a chuckle from you.

"haven't been able to sleep, so i figured i'd take a walk." you shrug, as if he can see you.

"ah, figured you'd pass out the second you landed." he concedes while you absentmindedly toe at the ground, eyeing your surroundings. "just wanted to check in– make sure everything is going okay with you."

for a moment, you debate on mentioning the messages from makarov. logically, it's the right thing to do; your team needs to know about any potential threats. however, there's a little part of you that hesitates to say anything. you feel the urge to keep it a secret, to wait and see what happens. makarov's given you useful intel before, maybe you can get more out of him.

"yeah, i'm doing all right," you mutter, reassuring soap. "just want to get back to work as soon as i can. i miss you guys."

soap gives you an appreciative hum. "y'just gotta heal up quick, l.t.! we're all missing you here. ghost and price are meaner than you are."

"they're not 'mean,' they just don't tolerate as much nonsense from you and gaz as i do." you counter with a playful laugh, pulling a groan from soap.

"it's not nonsense, it's– what?" soap suddenly stops talking, and you hear a voice in the background of the call. he says something to the person before exhaling dramatically and speaking into the phone again. "sorry 'bout that, it was price. apparently we've got somethin' to handle– a wrecked shadow company transport, i think. i'll send a message after we're done, yeah?"

you wave your hand while talking, again, as if he can see you. "don't worry about it, just stay safe out there. let me know how it goes."

the two of you exchange quick goodbyes and you end the call with a smile still plastered on your face. your brows furrow as you immediately receive another call, though. the number that flashes across the screen makes you grip the phone tighter, your knuckles turning white from the strain.

makarov, of course. you decline the call with an irritated sigh and spin on your heel, heading back to your apartment. another one comes through seconds later, which you choose to simply ignore this time. you speed up the short walk to your front door and slam it closed behind you, locking it just as quickly.

"you are surprisingly difficult to get ahold of, petra."

you whip around and press your back to the door, locking eyes with the man you tried so desperately to avoid. makarov stands in the middle of the room, a smug grin on his face, his arms loosely crossed over his chest as he stares you down.

"how the hell did you find me so fast?" you sneer at him, hand tightening around the set of keys in your palm. he's wearing a thick vest and armor plates - they won't save you, but the keys might buy you enough time to reach the gun in your bedroom.

"i have my ways," he tilts his head to the side, moving to lean against the back of your couch. "i needed to speak with you, and you weren't answering the phone. this was my only option."

you scoff at the claim, briefly loosening your grip. "no, you also have the option of leaving me alone." you argue, stepping further into the room. "besides killing you, we don't have any business to discuss."

"is that so?" makarov chuckles, glancing over his shoulder. you follow his gaze and land on your laptop. it's turned on again, with one of the pages detailing his personal history displayed on the screen. "you'll be very interested in what i have to say, lieutenant."

you bite your tongue, shifting your weight and dragging your focus back to him. "fine. tell me, then."

makarov straightens, his gaze flitting back to you. the edges of the keys dig into the skin of your palm, the bite of the cold metal keeping you grounded as he stalks toward you, like a predator approaching a prey animal. those alarm bells start going off in your head again, every instinct screaming at you to preemptively strike or run.

when he's a few feet away, you lunge. jabbing your keys forward, you try to hit one of the weak spots of his vest, aiming for the one of the gaps near the straps.

the training he underwent years ago is made readily apparent as makarov easily grabs your wrist and twists it, disarming you in one smooth motion. you try to use your other hand to break free, only to end up with both hands in his iron grip. you're spun around and shoved against the wall with your hands behind your back, trapped between your bodies.

you struggle, but that only encourages him to tighten his grip, firmly pinning your hands. he presses forward, using his own body weight to prevent you from fighting him off.

"you're predictable, petra," he mutters, the comment making you thrash against him. "you can't see past yourself– i am freely offering you information that your allies would die to gather themselves. take advantage of this generosity."

"i hate you," you seethe, writhing and trying to break free of his hold. he doesn't budge even a little, chuckling softly next to your ear as he leans in closer.

"good. i like that." makarov murmurs, his voice low and controlled, warm breath fanning over your skin. heat floods through your veins when he speaks, which you attribute to anger towards him.

until he nudges you again, his upper body falling almost perfectly in line with the curve of your back, his hands loosening slightly and providing your red-marked wrists with some relief. it just now occurs to you how close he is, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your spine forcing your own staggering breathing to calm itself and match his. his cropped hair tickles the side of your ear as he hovers next to you, his side profile visible in the edge of your vision.

you bite your tongue again, though for a different reason than earlier. holding any feelings but hatred and contempt for your enemy - you might as well mark yourself as a traitor if that happens. you can't allow yourself to fall for the games that he's definitely playing with you. the task force needs you, and they need whatever intel makarov can provide you with right now.

"i can be civil," you concede, barely above a whisper. "i won't attack if you don't." you add a moment later, pursing your lips.

you can see the edge of his lips twitch from the corner of your eye. makarov releases your wrists after a beat and steps back, giving you enough space to turn around and face him, pressing your back flat against the wall.

"do you trust the commander of shadow company?" he asks, bluntly. you narrow your gaze, huffing at the thought.

"graves? not by a longshot. i can trust him enough to shoot your guys before he shoots me, but that's it." you reply in an equally blunt tone.

"do you believe he is attached to the general's plans?" he says, and you deliberate before shaking your head. it wouldn't make sense, given graves' recent allyship with urzikstan. makarov continues, appearing satisfied with your answer. "you're correct. the shadow is not aware of shepherd's plans any more than your team is."

"how does this help me?"

"you will need him to cooperate in order to take down general shepherd," makarov asserts. you tilt your head curiously, urging him to elaborate. "which means, unfortunately, that you will have to work with him. my men can handle the general's lap dogs, but commander graves is the only person that can locate the general himself."

of course. your catalogue of enemies that you have no choice but to work with just keeps expanding.

"i see." you mumble, fingers twitching at the prospect of working with graves. tolerating his soldiers is one issue, but the commander is a whole other ballpark. "i still don't understand– why are you giving me all of this?"

makarov finally tears his gaze from yours for the first time since you separated. he walks over to the front door, right next to your spot against the wall, and unlocks it with a small twist of the lock. he turns toward you, though his eyes do not lift to yours again.

"the enemy of my enemy is my friend," he utters, swinging the door open. "we'll be in touch. do not ignore me next time i contact you."

you nearly miss his eyes flicking up to your face, the action so short that it feels like a trick of the light. he walks out of your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud, stopping you from watching him as he disappears into the night. you don't think you want to know where he goes, but one thing that you can say for certain is that it won't be the last you see of him.

you'll be seeing him even sooner than you can imagine.

taglist: @sofasoap, @roosterr, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @thorrsexual, @miss-nob0dy, @woodeelf, @fbs-fc-ur-mommy, @soap-mactavish, @itsyellow, @johfaam0, @cumbermovels, @chxe-zdechnac, @imagineswritersblog, @emorgz33, @k4rthon, @ponyboys-sunsets, @frazie99, @chensipstea

⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <3)

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #sylph.writes

348 notes · View notes

grippingbeskar · 1 year

Text

unearthed

chapter one - matched

warnings— canon typical violence, mentions of death, loss, injury, maybe a lil trauma

a/n— and we’re back! just over a year of having this account, and the end of season three, and i’m back where i started. thirsting after the mandalorian. i’m super excited about this one, and even though i think there will be a bit of a wait between chapters i promise its because they are going to be higher quality. also, obviously there will be smut further on (come on, it’s me. of course we are going to fuck him.) so no minors please!! hope you enjoy! big thank-you to @kyberblade for beta reading and saving me from my typos i love u.

also a psa. disregard season three for this fic. it fucked up my timeline so i’m changing it. things might be a bit all over the place, but it’s just going to be what i wanna do with it HAHAH no rhyme or reason :)

[series masterlist] [next chapter] [tag list sign up]

You stared out into the never ending darkness, interspersed by twinkling hints of far away planets, all of them seeming more and more out of reach as you were shuffled out into the hall. Flanked by guards, the view from your room disappeared from sight, replaced by the familiar, safe walls of your palace. This was your life now— being shoved towards the known and away from those giant stretches of sky you longed so much for. Your duty, you say to yourself. This was the way you had to live, destined to the confines of your pre-determined universe. It is what you were born to do.

You knew this day would come. You were, as you were constantly, incessantly reminded, the last of the royal bloodline. After your parents early death, it left you as heir and sole survivor to the throne. All of your life, you had been trained for this moment, but it was something that was always so...distant.

You used to look forward to this time in your life, where you’d get to travel the galaxy, finally earning some of that coveted freedom all the other girls in the palace talked about. You dreamed of seeing the galaxy, being unknown on an Outer Rim planet, going wherever your heart takes you. You thought you’d have time to live. But then, within the blink of an eye, you were rushed through your coronation and left to carry the burden of commanding an entire planet. It was like a rug was ripped out from underneath you, all while someone dropped a fifty pound weight over your head, all the while chiding you for stumbling over.

In the wake of the Empire finally falling around the galaxy, planets all around the suns were scrambling— resources were scarce, trade routes were un-secure and stability was out of reach. This was the same for you, because the future of your planet was now in your hands, and you had no idea what to make of it.

Unfortunately for you, stability in a woman’s world came in the form of a contract. Most usually, a marriage contract.

This meant, much to your dismay, an entourage of young, hopeful (and practically brainless) men arriving on your doorstep, all popping the question in hopes of securing the new Queen's hand in marriage. Your hand. You knew your planet was important and appealing, with its natural resources, expanding economy in spite of the Empire’s devastation, and an abundance of funds for all the newest technologies with the death of two of the greatest ruling minds of the time. Any leader of even a remotely nearby planet would strike on this opportunity— you know you would, if it were someone else.

The whole idea wasn’t new, but it still made your gut twist. Your parents were lucky they had something more– real love, and a home filled with the stuff of fairytales. While you knew this was rare, it made you long for that. Knowing it was real, that a connection like that could be somewhere out there for you, but you’d never reach it because you never got the chance to try... you knew you were lucky, but it didn’t stop your heart from longing for more. You wanted someone to show you the stars, to let you be you, and not just try to win you like a prize or a notch in their belt.

Everyone around you said this was the smart thing to do. Choose someone— anyone who would bring you what you wanted. Your planet, as fertile as it is, is not famous for its army. That was clear during the reign of the Empire, and now the New Republic was thinning their guard posts after the war, you needed manpower. You knew it was a necessity, and you wanted to keep your people safe, but to offer yourself up like a prized mare? You were a Queen, and you were planning to be a good one, with or without a husband.

As you sat on the throne, dismissing yet another suitor with a shake of your head, the collective group of your father’s– now your own Advisors groaned, and one walked up the steps, approaching you with a slightly bowed head.

“Your Majesty, if I may…” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, only because you knew the watchful gaze of neighbouring planet leaders were on you.

“I have a feeling you will anyway.” He shook his head, quickly coming up the stairs to your side. He sighs, and you shrug at him. “What? He wasn’t my type, okay? If I’m going to sleep with the man, I should at least–”

“Your Majesty, this is the fourteenth potential match you have rejected. We are a coveted planet, but if you do not choose someone, we run the risk of having no options at all.” He says, looking down his nose at where you are strung lazily across your throne. He was still harbouring some of that anger from earlier, where you had refused to change into the giant mess of a gown the styling team had chosen for you. If the colour wasn’t enough– a pale puke green measurable to the blood of a Trandoshaan– the fabric was so expansive you would have drowned in it. You loved a pretty dress, but at least one that didn’t eat you whole.

“Would that be so bad?” You dropped your head back, and he shook his head, sighing again.

“Yes— it would mean instability. We would be a target for neighbouring planets. We are strong, but not strong enough to be alone. The New Republic has already thinned their guards to a ghost number compared to four years ago. We cannot wait any longer. We are… vulnerable, without a strong army.”

“We can make allies without forcing me to marry one of them.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. We would never force you to do anything.” He says those words, but every syllable is laced with warning. You may be the last living member of your blood line, but no matter how important, and no matter how beloved by your people you are, there were some things that you couldn’t control.

The worst part was he was right. Sure, you could solidify alliances, but a marriage was a lock and key. If you picked the right one, your people would be safe for years to come, long after you were successful. After what you had seen of the Empire, what they had done here, and all over the galaxy, your people deserved safety. Freedom— whatever the cost.

Your love for your people would get you through this. In them, you saw your parents legacy, and the passion to build something greater than yourself. You would never trade this life for anything... but it didn’t mean you couldn’t have preferences. Just as you were going to justify why you rejected the man now sneering at you from the corner of the room, the doors burst open, and your attention is diverted to the messenger rushing in with a strange look on his face.

“Your Majesty, we’ve just received another request.” He calls, breathless. “I’m sorry to interrupt. It’s… I am not sure how to say this.”

The man is clearly nervous— avoiding your eye and instead staring at his feet. You rise off the throne and move to him, attempting a comforting smile and nodding at him.

“It’s alright. Start at the beginning.”

“This request… It is unusual.” He swallows, and you laugh lightly.

“What is it this time? Don’t tell me the Hutts have thrown themselves into the mix.” You had nothing against them right now, but they were so… slimy. “Whoever it is, as long as they send a message in peace, they will be well received.”

“Well, that is the thing. They do not ask Your Majesty to receive them. They…”

“They don’t want to come here?” Already, you are breathing a sigh of relief. Anything to stop the constant parade of men flapping their money and stupid hair around.

“No, they ask that… they ask that you come to them.” He finishes, and your advisors are next to him in an instant, all attempting to speak over one another. You raise your eyebrows, surprised, but intrigued.

“That is an insult!” The man who challenged you before, known to you as Advisor Corell, spits at the messenger. “Her Majesty only receives guests— she does not travel unless there is cause.”

“Did they say anything else?” You ask, and the room goes quiet again as you step forward. The messenger looks uncomfortable, knowing there are still foreign diplomats in the room. “Everyone else, please go. You’ll be... informed of my decision later.”

The entire room exits quickly at the sound of your voice, all mumbling to themselves, probably still hurt over your rejection and blatant disinterest, but all you could care about was this new message.

“It’s alright. Go ahead.” You encourage. “What else did they say?”

“They asked for your hand, of course. They have a new King, and think the match would be beneficial to both sides.” A new King. Your mind buzzes, trying to think if you’d heard of any close planets going through a succession besides your own. Nothing comes to mind, but if he was new, at least this one would hopefully be closer to your age.

“A new King?” The messenger nods. “And he asked for me personally?”

“Ah... the message was not from him, Your Majesty. It was a hologram from a member of his court. A… Bo-Katan.” You had never heard the name before, but one of your advisors makes a noise of recognition and you spin to her.

“You know this name?” You ask Advisor Kaylen— probably your favourite member and the closest thing you have to a friend. She nods eagerly. “You’ve met them?”

“I have heard it before, but that would be impossible…” She fades off, and you turn back to the messenger.

“This is the most interesting person I’ve heard of since this whole thing started. What’s impossible?” You watch the messenger's face twist, so you reach out and touch his shoulder, the contact surprising him and earning a disapproving hum from Advisor Corell. “You can tell me, just ignore him. I do.”

“Well, that’s just the thing. The planet they claim to come from has been long abandoned.” Advisor Kaylen was still muttering to herself, but you couldn’t focus on her anymore when the messenger finally spoke again. “They say they are calling from Mandalore, and that their new King has asked for you to be his Queen.”

“Stop asking me about that.” Din growled, stopping his swift movement through the makeshift repair station he’d been pulling together. “I’m not interested.”

“This isn’t just about you anymore.” The longer he spent with these Mandalorians, the more the thought of taking off with their precious Dark-Saber and leaving seemed appealing. “An alliance like this is exactly what we need. With all the repairs, we’ve run low in funds. We need resources— we need to outsource, and this is the fastest way to do it. She’s all but waving a flag for us.”

He never thought there would be a time when bounty hunting was the normalcy he craved— but standing surrounded by relics of his people long passed, discussing a potential marriage—he started to miss the reliable frame of the Razor Crest a little too much.

“Mandalore was built on the backs of our people. We can do it again, the same way.” Bo-Katan sighs, giving him a glare after removing her helmet. “Would you do this? Was this a part of your plan to re-take Mandalore?”

“They didn’t have a dwindling empire and economic crisis to deal with. If you do this, we can rebuild the way our ancestors wanted us to live. How we used to live. Welcome our family home. Isn’t that what you want?” He spins, taking two slow steps to face Bo-Katan, who stands with her helmet tucked under her arm. “To answer your question— yes. I would have. I was royalty once, and I know what this is like. And I would still do it. You might even make a friend in her, Din.”

“You aren’t suggesting friends.” To her credit, she doesn’t back down, just raises her eyebrows at him. “You are asking me to get married. You know what that means.”

“It’s not like that. Rulers marry for all kinds of reasons— and if she’s looking, it means she wants to take full advantage of this. It’s the smart thing to do. Her planet is powerful, but vulnerable. Their army numbers are small after the Empire’s attacks, and she needs what we can offer now the Rebellion is squaring off. Good, strong fighters. Besides, I’m sure you aren’t exactly all she hoped for, either. I wouldn’t be surprised if you hardly see her after the first few months.” Rolling her eyes, she turns back to the pile of spare parts they had dragged in from outside. “We’ve already sent a hologram inviting her here. If she accepts, you can discuss a potential alliance like adults. If you are still opposed, we’ll cancel it and try it your way. Until then, we have work to do.”

“Send another message. Say I’m no longer interested.” Din stands impossibly still, waiting for Bo-Katan to agree and leave before he lets out a long breath. Clearly, he’d misjudged how set on this idea she was.

“Just think about it, okay?” She turns and disappears from view, and he feels like he’s going to collapse under the pressure. Things were complicated enough— in the last month, he’d learnt his way of life was not the only way at all, inherited a saber he had little idea how to use, and dropped everything he knew to come back home— to Mandalore. To say he had enough on his plate was an understatement.

Truthfully, he had come back with one thing on his mind. The Way declared one could only truly be forgiven for their misdeeds in the living waters beneath the mines of Mandalore— and Din had a lot to be forgiven for. If there was anywhere he could start fresh, it was here, but before he could do that, he had to find the mines, currently buried under years worth of rubble and debris. The last thing he needed was to disgrace himself in yet another way— which is exactly what Bo-Katan and the other Mandalorian’s were suggesting.

He was not ready for this. Not in any way. He was not a ruler— not a born and bred leader, like Bo-Katan, and he’d never wanted to be. It might have made sense to an outsider, maybe. A new, untested ruler of a planet as economic as yours was bound to attract unwanted attention, and about the only thing Mandalore could offer right now was its ability to fight. It was the only thing it was known for.

He didn’t want to marry, though. Not for a political alliance. He didn’t think about it at all— not right now. He’d heard a few things about you by now— how your parents had passed suddenly, and how you were now being squashed into the same situation as he was, forced to play a role which you had no choice in being cast to. He felt as sorry for you as he did for himself, and he found his thoughts drifting to the Child.

Din looked around, exhausted at just the thought of getting this place into any form of working order. Spare parts to old ships scattered on the floor, and the room was painted in a light purple hue thanks to the reflection of the glass roof overhead. He stood, leaving the mess of a garage and walking back out towards the largest building in this city.

There were streets lined with cracked stone, several Mandalorians dragging and pulling equipment to replace the broken ones. They had been working hard— everyone had, including him, and the place was looking less and less like a war zone by the second. The sight made him feel easier. At least his home wouldn’t be rubble forever. Buildings were gaining foundations, others entirely rebuilt by hand. It had only been a month or two, and already this place was looking like he’d been told in the stories. Like home.

As he walked through them, he didn’t miss the stares of those who’d left their helmets behind, but at least that was familiar. Everyone stared, on every planet he went to, and even with the oddly shaped buildings, some spiralling high, others flat and long enough to park a few speeders in the front, he felt settled here. The cities were huge and spanned far into the horizon, too long to walk everywhere, so the Mandalorians had gone straight to work on the speeder parts, using them to zip around not only around this central city, but between other parts of the planet.

Finally, he began the walk up the steps of the castle. It was giant— bulky and boxed, rooms stacked on top of each other with seemingly no purpose. It was the most well conserved building on the planets surface, and it was what constituted as a home for Din. For now, at least. Either way, it was the safest place to keep Grogu during the day, and he would go wherever it was safest for him.

He could hear him before he saw him, loud chirps and gurgles coming from the throne room. One, giant looking chair was elevated by a few steps at the end of the room, and he saw a flip of green zip over Sasha’s unmasked head.

“Get down here, you gremlin.” She barked, but laughed at Grogu’s slightly worried face when he spun to a stop in mid air. It was then he finally noticed him, dropping to the ground and wandering over. “He’s been a little pain in my—“

“Patu!” Grogu chirps, and Din laughs roughly, bending down to pick him up. He holds him in front of his helmet, watching as his tiny hands reach out to grab his gloved wrists.

“Have you been causing trouble, Grogu?” He makes a little gurgle sound, like he always does when Din says his name, and he smiles under the helmet.

“Bo-Katan was looking for you.” Sasha says, putting her helmet back on. Most Mandalorian’s that lived around the capital did that when they spoke to him, now, even ones as high ranking as Sasha. Din doesn’t look up from Grogu’s giant eyes.

“She found me. And my answer is still no.” He hears her laugh, but when he looks up at her, she stops.

“She didn’t tell you?” Din turns to face her, letting the kid fiddle with something on his armour.

“Tell me what?” Unlike Bo-Katan, Sasha is a little afraid of him. Everyone is, especially since they had seen him fight with the DarkSaber when they first arrived on the planet. Since then, there had been a quiet fear, a commanding presence Din didn’t think he had earnt, but regardless it was there. She swallowed, tilting her helmet down to the floor. “Tell me.”

“The Queen replied. She accepted your invitation, and is expected to arrive within the week. She also implied, if the meeting goes well— she…”

“She what? What did she say?” Din had no idea why, but his heart was racing a mile a minute. Had she been insulted by the offer? Was she going to stage an attack?

“She said she would marry you.”

“You said I would what?” You shout at the group of advisors, all of whom look like they are about to scramble and run. And they should. “Who’s bright idea was it to send correspondence, with my name attached, without my go-ahead?! What the hell kind of advisor does that?!”

None of them so much as moved, except for Advisor Kaylen, who caught your eye, making a pointed look at Advisor Corell. You shook your head, and a bitter smile curled the ends of your mouth.

“I should have known. Corell. Get up.” He spluttered, stumbling to his feet as you dragged him up the dais, and forced him to his knees. “Was it you? Did you tell Mandalore I would accept their invitation?!”

He shakes his head. “I only said you would meet with them! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“When I was ready!” You want to scream, but your embarrassment and nerves choke your throat. Yes, you were going to accept. Probably. Maybe a month from now... a few months, if you could stretch it. Not this week.

“This is a good thing! Now you get to go! To— to see the cursed land for yourself. To look upon its new ruler! I was only doing what I thought was best! They would have been insulted if we had rejected…and we’re running out of options.”

“The only one insulted here is me, that you truly believe I would buy any of the shit that comes out of your mouth.” He was on thin ice as it was, but your fathers words played in your head, and you saw the faces of your other Advisors in the corner of your eye.

Your father had selected this team of people because he trusted them, and for some reason, you did too. You didn’t know why, or how they were picked, but they were supposed to be the six people you could rely on. The six people who would challenge you, who wouldn’t blindly accept your decision like the rest of the planet. They were a tradition— to ensure the sanity of a ruler and the safety of a planet. You trusted them; or you would, eventually, but they would not overstep. Or at least, they shouldn’t.

“My father trusted you. It is that reason alone that I will let you continue to work underneath me, and forgive this lapse in judgment. But this is the one chance you will receive. I might not be my father, but you work for me now. If you choose to disobey me or do anything without me specifically telling you again, I will send you to Mandalore in my stead, and the King can have you in my place. We will see how far you make it in the ruins before he cuts you down.” They all scurry from the room, Advisor Corell not glancing back as he heads for the door after you drop him.

All that is left is Kaylen, who doesn’t need a title when it’s just you and her. She was a friend— perhaps your only one, so you only used her title around the other Advisors.

“That was exciting.” She says, and you flop down onto the cushioned throne, golden pillows softening the blow as she comes to lean on the armrest. “It’s been too long since we had some real palace gossip.”

“Well, hold on to that, because you might be shipping me off to marry a fish. He’s like a ghost— I couldn’t find anything on the King, and now I’m supposed to just…go?” You sigh, swinging your feet over the edge of the chair and letting your head fall into her lap. “This is insanity. This entire month has been suitor after suitor, none of them with armies strong enough to keep our planet safe. And now it’s like I don’t even have a... it all just happened so fast.”

“I know. You were right to reject them all. But this one is... it’s different.” You sit up, turning to face her.

“You think I should go?”

“Are you asking me as an Advisor, or as a friend?”

“Both.” The throne is huge, made for the large frame of your father, so she can slide right in next to you.

“Well, as your Advisor, Mandalore is famous for one thing— war. Sure, they have lost a tonne, but when they were at their peak, they were unstoppable. Feared throughout the galaxy. With our help, they could be that again. Even having the name attached to us would scare off any potential threats for a while. They are good fighters, they could teach our people ways we would never learn ourselves, and one day we could even be allies. Especially if this goes well.” She sits up when she speaks, and even though she’s only a few years older than you, she seems light years ahead. You understand why your father chose her.

“And as my friend?” She swings an arm over your shoulder.

“As your friend, I think you need this. I think that you haven’t changed a single thing about the palace since you have been crowned because you know once you do, this is real and your parents are gone. I think you know this is the right thing to do, but you’re scared, and you think that when you do this, you’ll finally be alone, and you hate that.” You’re thankful she’s not looking at you because you almost start crying as soon as she mentions your parents. “I think you know that this is different. That this could be a defining moment for you. For your reign. For the planet to come back after the Empire.”

“Why do you have to be right about everything?” You say tightly, and she helps you stand off the throne, leading you towards your bedroom through the maze of winding corridors.

“Just lucky. And, hey, don’t look so sad. Rumor has it he wears a very pretty beskar suit. All shiny and silver. You love shiny stuff.” She gestures at the hallways, all lined with golden and silver detailing. You nudge her on the shoulder and she laughs, peeling off before you open the door to your bedroom.

It was technically your parents room— the room you grew up in now vacated for your future offspring. You didn’t mind, using the room helped you feel a little bit closer to your parents. You remember all the times you’d climbed into bed with them, buried under the covers because you were afraid of the dark.

Kaylen was right. Corell was right, even if he was an asshole. It was selfish to not accept an offer. You hated that you couldn’t do more for your people, that all you had to offer was your arm, but if that was what you needed to do right now, you should just... suck it up. A Mandalorian, though. That was different. You knew they were feared, although scattered throughout the galaxy, and if their words were true, an entire planet of them would make you virtually impenetrable.

You couldn’t help but think about the King. Mandalorians were a confusing bunch, the few you had met, anyways. Very quiet, lethal as anything, and in your experience, solitary. Your mother had hired one years ago to collect a bounty for her, and he completed the four day job in three hours, arriving and leaving on his own, hardly talking if he didn’t have to. Why would someone like that want to be married?

Shrinking out of your outfit, you decided to try and get some sleep. If tomorrow was going to be anything like today, you’d need all the rest you could get, and for some reason, there was a racing in your heart you couldn’t settle. Maybe just nerves from the incoming visit to Mandalore tomorrow.

That had to be it. The myths, legends surrounding the cursed world— it would make anyone nervous. But it was just that. Nerves. It couldn’t be anything else.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian smut #mando #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x y/n #din djarin x y/n #din djaren x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #star wars #star wars fic #pedro pascal

455 notes · View notes

spider-gem · 2 months

Text

Being a Marvel fan can be weird and a bit of a struggle because people will be like, “Oh, so you like [insert character here]? Do you like the comic version or the MCU version better?” and I’m just like

“How do I explain that the character that I like isn’t from just one source? How do I explain that they’re a mixture of all of my favorite qualities and characteristics found in every source of Marvel media I can get my hands on, from the comics to the movies, to the animated series and to every great fanart and fanfic I’ve seen? How do I explain how I’ve pulled pieces of the different versions of this character and created a new design in my head that is similar to the others but not quite the same? How do I explain that I enjoy a certain part of the character’s canon in one source, but will disregard another piece of canon and replace it with something I like from another source. I don’t just like the character, I’ve reconstructed them to something that the movies and comics don’t get. Maybe they’ll never get it. Some parts of the fandom gets it. We’ve all reconstructed the characters in a certain way, recreating but not stripping away what defines the characters we love. I know them in a way you never will.”

But I’ll never really say anything thing that unhinged, so I’ll resort to, “A bit of both, haha.”

#i really want to do some marvel redesigns #maybe if i find some motivation and time i will #anyways here’s an unhinged shitpost lol #marvel #marvel comics #mcu #the avengers #x-men #the defenders #guardians of the galaxy #spider-man #daredevil #loki #etc etc

87 notes · View notes

morganbritton132 · 1 year

Note

I love the series and everything about it is *chefs kiss*

The broke ankle tags made me laugh so much and honestly the idea of Steve just being such a tank that he doesn’t even realize he’s seriously injured himself is so canon.

Can’t wait for the corresponding compilation toks of Steve just doing everything you aren’t supposed to do with a broken ankle.

Also since we all obviously are obsessed with bitchy Steve I need bitchy Steve coming out of anesthesia or something similar. Just not even a bit aware but confident as hell that he is not wrong.

I appreciate you and thank you so much for this series! It’s my favorite part of the day ❤️

Thank you!!!!! This is so good, but I am going to leave Steve on anesthesia for another time because I got a different ask that mentions it and I’m going to focus on Steve completely disregarding everything the doctors told him.

To be fair though, Steve was not listening.

They’d already given painkillers by the time they started explaining things and frankly, it was boring. Steve was a high school athlete and a teenaged monster hunter. He’s had his fair share of injuries. He’s sprained his ankle before and this isn’t much different. Same arena, different game. It’s like how the ice rink is used for hockey and figure skating.

“It’s not like that at all,” Eddie tells him after painstakingly carrying Steve into the house (something that was much easier to do when they were in their twenties) and into their bedroom. He elevates Steve’s foot. He gets his water and a snack, and an extra blanket so he has no reason to get up, and he finds Steve in the kitchen the next morning. Standing on his injured ankle.

Eddie films him – mainly to send to Robin but also to prove once and for all that Steve is not the sensible one. He starts with Steve’s messy bedhead and goes down his body, pass his Scooby Doo pajama pants to Steve’s bandaged ankle. He’s got an ice pack rested against it so there’s that.

Eddie doesn’t say anything like he’s at a lose for words and then just, “Why?”

For everybody following Eddie’s page, you get to see him become visibly more and more stressed every time he posts something. He posts a video of Steve on the way to see if he needs surgery and Steve is explaining his hockey metaphor again. He also says, “It’s probably just a sprain. It feels like one. What do they know anyways?”

“What do the doctors know?” Eddie asks. “Lucas was the one that said it was broken.”

“Lucas once forgot that bowls exist, Eddie.”

He posts a complication later that day because Steve is definitely going to have to have surgery because he definitely broke his ankle. Steve is doing his absolute most to be doing anything while still technically following the rules.

The doctor said ice, elevate, and rest.

In Eddie’s compilation, Steve is vacuuming but he’s laying on the floor with his feet propped up on the couch so it’s still technically elevated. Steve ices his ankle with a slushie he produced out of thin air in the time it took Eddie to check the mail. He swears he never got up.

Steve nearly falls on his ass using crutches, alternating between the bedroom and the living room so he can ‘rest.’ Eddie takes Ozzy out and finds Steve cooking, but he’s got his ankle resting on the counter (Steve is not that flexible, this one hurt him).

The compilation ends with Ozzy getting fed up with both of them and laying on Steve so he can’t move.

#Steve could and has spent all day on the couch but the moment he is told he is supposed to he can’t. he’ll go insane just sitting there #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson tiktok saga

668 notes · View notes

viv-weylin · 19 days

Text

Some thoughts about Shilo (and a lot of my thoughts about the aromantic reading of him)

Okay, so Shilo has been a character that's been spinning in my head pretty constantly. This isn't going to be organized but rather kind of just. Thoughts.

I see a lot of people interpret Shilo as a purely innocent person who has done no wrong wet cat, and yeah! He is! But the thing is, he's... done wrong. He's a vampire. There's something inherently evil in all vampires, and i believe this misconception stems from people not knowing the vtm lore. In VTM, all vampires have a beast inside of them, and this beast is inherently evil and cruel and animalistic, which is the part that forces vampires to feed. Shilo hasn't frenzied, he's never lost control of this beast but the fact he has one is enough to make him "not purely innocent", I'd argue he thinks he's innocent and hasn't done wrong but keep in mind he has zero hestitation throwing guards to die. He's indirectly killed several times, and that's not really something we can ignore when thinking about shilo.

He's also incredibly manipulative. He has no worries dominating or manipulating people for his own gain, and again, this comes from his sheltered life. This comes from him simply not knowing any better, but even then, this is a major flaw that i feel some people dont think about.

Shilo isn't rapunzel, Rapunzel isn't a killer, and she isn't manipulative with a disregard for people's lives. That is to say Shilo isn't pure evil, but rather, he's a morally grey character. He's killed, and he's manipulated, but you could argue that it came from a place of not knowing any better, but even then, he's still killed and manipulated. Do you see where the interesting moral dichotomy lies? Is he at fault for the evil he does if he doesn't know any better. I just dont like the "purely good" Shilo takes I've seen some people have.

The aromantic stuff:

I think it's rather well known I'm an aroace shilo truther (if im being honest, i have a distaste for armored pheasant to an extent, but that is not what this is about). I feel as if that's a rather crucial part of his character, and it's not unsubstantiated. He quite literally says he's incapable of having romantic feelings, and in the newest episode (i am not caught up, forgive me), I've heard there's more he says that hints towards this aromantic reading. He's had zero interest in romance, and the fact he was bloodbonded to Edward without his consent can have rather interesting implications that I believe could be expanded on. A lot of aromantics know that feeling of being told "I can fix you" or whatever and Shilo parallels it quite well with the experience he has had with Edward. Below is the quote where he says he's incapable of romantic love.

(This is my own personal opinion but I believe his character is also sort of dumbed down once someone ships him with Grefgore. A lot of people did from the get go, and I get and see the appeal but I also think they're better as friends but again, personal opinion and I don't care if you ship them but his character falls into the "only interesting for the shipping to the fandom" pit quite easily.)

There's something incredibly validating to have a character like Shilo, who's kind and silly and aromantic if that makes sense. Aromantic representation has been lackluster, and most representation is god awful (coughLovelesscough) so having Shilo would be really nice. He's not canon representation, yes. Unless Bizly straight up confirms it, it's just implied representation but come on. It's right there guys. Give us an aro win.

His character has a lot of interesting bits: a character who's only experience with the world is through media & book (hashtag autism), a character who's incredibly cruel yet kind, a character blind to his own flaws, an aromantic character who loves despite. Give me more morally grey Shilo, more guilty Shilo and most of all. More Aromantic Shilo.

#shilo bathory #shilo bathroy #jrwi #just roll with it #the suckening #jrwi the suckening #aromantic shilo bathory

58 notes · View notes

king-magppi · 1 year

Text

Yellow Guy's Age

DHMIS Fandom, we need to talk about the infantilization of Yellow Guy. It's Papyrus from Undertale all over again😭😭 seriously. Anyways, I'm tired of seeing a GROWN MAN get depicted as a child by this fandom (I'm not talking about AUs or whatever, I'm talking about in casual fanart and the like). There is plenty of evidence from the show to support that Yellow Guy is, in fact, an adult, and I will list some out for you here:

In episode 1 (Jobs), Yellow Guy falls in love and marries Claire (the wrench person) in the span of the 40 years of working for Peterson's and Son's and Friends Bits and Parts Limited! This would be weird if Yellow Guy had met her as a child and grew up to marry her, wouldn't it? "But all that never even happened!" Yes, it did, because if we're using that logic, nothing from ANY of the other episodes happened because they always end up right back at home with no memory of the day prior regardless! Stay with me here!

In episode 3 (Family), Yellow Guy is seen as old enough by Todney and Lily to be forced into the role of the "Mother" and successfully order the Grolton's Chicken family tub. When the three get home, they proceed to try and open the packet of Chuddle Dollops again. During this scene, Red Guy refers to Yellow Guy as his "brother" rather than a son or any other family member.

In episode 4 (Friendship), it is revealed that Yellow Guy has a maiden name (it's "Rat Eyes" apparently), implying he has been married and/or divorced! Also, this next point might be a stretch which is why it isn't the main one for this bullet, but the first thing Yellow Guy wants to do when they finally get on the computer is "Do Gambling".

In episode 6 (Electricity), Lesley refers to Yellow as "NOT their real son". If they DO in fact happen to be his creator/parental figure, and Roy is his father, then that makes it very well possible that Yellow is at VERY LEAST in his late 20s-30s if Lesley is between 60-70 (the actress that plays Lesley, Vivienne Soan, is 67 years old, so it's safe to assume her character is supposed to be presented as around that age range). Another bit that might be a stretch is that after getting fresh batteries, Yellow Guy is able to do taxes, and even speaks more clearly and "mature" sounding.

Yellow is never referred to as a child by the others and is treated as an equal by all members of the household. They constantly pick on each other and even get in a fistfight at the end of episode 4.

Yellow Guy's voice is deep and does not SOUND like one of a child. If he were supposed to be one, wouldn't they give him a more "childish" voice?

And now I will debunk a few arguments I've seen used against people claiming Yellow Guy being an adult:

"But he dresses in overalls!"

Roy wears overalls too. Does this make him a child? Anyone can wear overalls.

"He's child sized! He MUST be a child!"

Actually, Duck/Green is the smallest one, and they're all puppets. They're gonna be pretty small compared to Red Guy. Also, height =/= age. Remember when the smallest in the house in the Family episode was revealed to be the father? Also, if we're going by height, why isn't Duck considered a child too then?

"He's too stupid/doesn't act like an adult."

We see in episode 6 that the reason he acts the way he does is because his batteries are dying. Also "stupidity" =/= age. Half the time Red Guy and Duck are just as dumb (if not more) than Yellow Guy in their actions So I really don't get why people use this one as an argument. It also feels a bit ableist to consider "not smart" people as children.

Wow. All of this even when I've fully disregarded the Pilot episode (I did this because some of you may consider it "not canon" because it was scrapped) and the webseries. I can't believe I even had to make this post, but it had to be done or else I'd lose my head! Thanks for reading if you made it this far!

#magppi meeps #dhmis #dont hug me im scared #dhmis yellow guy #dhmis manny #dhmis doi #what else do yall call him even #fluffybird #<< to get people to actually see this

805 notes · View notes

fanfic-obsessed · 27 days

Text

Mando'a

I HAVE HAD A THOUGHT…and now you will all have to listen. This is a thought about Obi Wan speaking Mando'a and being fluent but in the weirdest ways. Like he learned while on the run so can have full conversations about the weirdest niche topics, but can’t order a coffee in a city.

As always disregard any variation of canon that contradicts this.

I am picturing Obi Wan and Satine, for a few months, hiding with some kind of traveling acting troupe. There are about 30-45 different beings, with no single common language between them (All of them are fluent in Mando'a, Ryl, or Rodian with enough of each that there is always someone to translate). The plays are performed in Mando’a, and the actors that do not know the language can still give their lines perfectly…without knowing what they are saying. Everyone learns how to understand certain stage directions in every language spoken in the troupe (in addition to the three that are as close as they get to a common language) and to have really random conversations, usually in body language and grunts, but nothing that would resemble learning each other's spoken languages.

It is this unholy mess that Obi Wan learns (also the real reason that Satine refuses to speak Mandoa, since this mess is what would likely come out). In some ways it makes him sound like he knows a bunch of languages, in other ways he cannot seem to train his brain to not automatically think of words in certain languages when he tries to communicate in anything but basic (For love, money, or safety Obi Wan cannot figure out how to communicate the word ‘apple’ in anything but basic or Ryl, it does not matter how many languages he learns).

We get into the Clone Wars and Obi Wan does not really talk about the languages he knows. The Clones have already realized that he is not what would be considered fluent in Mando’a. Then one battle there is some kind of bomb incoming that Obi Wan would not be able to redirect in time and so Obi Wan, a bit panicked, shouts (force enhanced) across the battlefield for everyone to shift fifteen feet to the right in perfect Mando'a, if slightly strange terminology (He was using stage direction).

Just Obi Wan having just enough grasp of a variety of languages to make communicating in any of them next to impossible, unless it is related to some weird niche topic.

#star wars the clone wars #star wars #obi wan kenobi #star wars au #bamf obi wan #satine kryze

66 notes · View notes

splendidnothings · 1 year

Note

Is it in your opinion that Peter would be able to manage suddenly coming into tens of millions of dollars?

We've actually seen exactly what happens when he comes into tens of millions of dollars (and his own company) post-Superior Spider-Man. And let’s just say it did not end well--

("Now, let's tear it down!" Amazing Spider-Man #31 (2015))

Truly, the man did not last more than a couple months, in-universe, before force-ejecting from the entire enterprise, super-villain plot notwithstanding. Even without Otto forcing his hand Peter was routinely giving his money away or using exorbitant amounts for the benefit of his family and friends. His philanthropic work with the Uncle Ben Foundation. Helping out May, Flash, and Carlie. Generally, giving his money away at any opportunity. He bought the Baxter Building for Johnny!

("Everyone was trying to buy this place...and I outbid 'em all..." Amazing Spider-Man #3 (2015))

Peter during Parker Industries didn’t “manage” this money at all. He spent and spent and the only reason he didn’t eventually run out was because his corporation imploded first.

So, I think the easiest answer is if he suddenly came into a lot of money, like for example, if he won the lottery, he would not so much manage the money but just use it until it ran dry and then find a gig to pay next month’s rent.

Now, Parker Industries is a pretty on the nose example so if we disregard that run I still think it's clear that Peter would manage a million dollars just as well as he would ten dollars and that is to say quickly and/or probably for the benefit of someone else. Peter genuinely just does not care about having money just to acquire wealth.

(“I don’t value it.” Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #10 (2019) I personally think this is a clunky panel because it’s telling us instead of actually showing us he doesn’t value money but alas it suits my purposes for this post.)

This is obviously not to say he doesn't know the value of money or that he is oblivious to the fact that he needs money for rent or that having money makes life easier. Most of his struggles come from a lack of money. But he doesn’t view money in the long term, he’s not thinking of it as a potential investment but merely a tool to solve immediate problems. Even when he comes into a bit of surprise money he needs it all just to cover bills (Thanks Robbie!)--

(“I have [a savings plan]?! You mean when Robbie made me sign all those forms last year?... That’s just enough for my back rent and a pizza!” Spectacular Spider-Man #126)

Peter and his relationship with money is established early as core to his character and in connection with his economic status. When you are poor any money you earn is for immediate necessities, not something to be saved and managed.

("Without Uncle Ben, we've no money to pay our bills." Amazing Spider-Man #1)

He just needs to make enough to pay rent, for May's medical bills, for food. Maybe he wants to get something nice for May or Betty, Gwen, or MJ. Later on, his money worries are in relation to being able to support a wife (this occurs with both Gwen and MJ). But it's all short-term and a means to an end. Past the immediate obstacle where the money is needed, he doesn't care about money at all.

His very first superhero team-up was less of a team-up and more of Peter thinking he could make money by joining the Fantastic Four!

("There's the way I can make some money--by joining the Fantastic Four!" Amazing Spider-Man #1)

I’ve been using multiple panels from Amazing Spider-Man #1 so far because I think it’s important in showing how ingrained Peter’s overall views on money are to the character. This is his second appearance ever (after Amazing Fantasy #15) and not only is his socio-economic class crystal clear but so is how he handles and thinks about money.

Canonically, almost every time Peter does come into a little extra money he gives it away. This is also a pretty consistent trait of his. He's just not one to keep extra cash around unless he's specifically saving for something. Why would he hoard money when he can help someone he loves or give it to a New Yorker who needs it more than him at that moment.

(...other people need it more than me, right?)

Further, he doesn’t view Spider-Man as something that holds monetary value.

(Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #1(2019))

And he knows how important money is for the average person--

(“If that money isn’t recovered, what happens to relief payments this month?”)

And--let’s be clear here--Peter could very easily make all the money he wants. He could easily make loads of money. Whether it be because he is a certified genius. Or because he has superpowers and could employ them in a variety of different ways to get money...and he knows this.

("If money's a problem, then I'll just get money." Amazing Spider-Man #542)

(“I can go anywhere! No one, nothing can stop me! Any amount of money could be mine...” Amazing Spider-Man #1 (ASM #1 really doing the most work in hammering home so many core character traits huh!))

But, Peter is just not a character who aspires to be wealthy. He wants to be comfortable. He wants an apartment with a tiny skylight so he can easily sneak out and be Spider-Man. He wants enough money to take care of the people he loves. But that's it.

In fact, the jobs that have made him money usually become a problem because they get in the way of him being Spider-Man. He values being Spider-Man over making a name for himself, finishing grad school, making big science lab money, etc., etc. or he wouldn’t be dropping these pathways to a better economic status. He's had many well-paying science jobs throughout canon and he doesn't keep them because he eventually stops showing up. He's a flake who at the end of the day doesn't value that work or that money more than being Spider-Man and helping people Grad school meant so little to him at one point that he full-on dropped out, in part, because he thought he needed to make money to pay for Felicia's medical bills--

(“I might not have quit school to devote more time to making a living...OH WELL...”)

Pulling back a bit we also have to look at Peter and his purpose as a fictional character that requires thought and consistent theme-work. A Peter who acquires wealth. Who hoards such a valuable resource is kind of antithetical to his whole deal. Arguably, his most well-known villain is Norman Osborn the literal embodiment of what an evil man with lots of money and no responsibility can do. So, it really doesn’t make for a character like Peter so rooted in the lower class, so known for helping the ones who truly need him for him in his civilian life to be a well-off guy. Spider-Man is THE street-level hero dealing with street-level crime. At his best he is stopping muggings, beating up unfair landlords, or wealthy people taking advantage of the unfortunate. He's a man of the people and doesn't like when people misuse power and what gives people power more than money?

("...I had the most money!" "Oh, give it a rest." Spectacular Spider-Man #145)

Wrapping this up, I also think a big reason Peter never feels so beholden to money is because he knows how self-sufficient he is. He invents his own webbing, web-shooters, is shown to be extremely handy, and is a genius. Why should he care about money beyond his basic needs? He can figure things out as the situation calls for it even if all he has is $23.50 in his bank account :p

#peter parker #marvel comics #marvel #marvel meta #long post/

580 notes · View notes

ataraxixx · 5 months

Text

my piece on why i really like echo. i have ruminated a lot of these thoughts in my brain for awhile but i realized ive never actually made a public post abt it .. echoheads lets discuss extensively

see. i think we can all agree about the most common echo characterization. at least the one i usually see in fics? and generally most fan content. hes a happy-go-lucky guy whos a bit child-like or naive, very innocent and mostly just glad to be here and full of wonder and whimsy and etc. and also really loves zane and is very kind and sweet and etc.

i am not saying this is an incorrect characterization by any means . obviously. because hes literally got like 5 minutes of screentime and most of that is spent not talking so its really up to whoevers writing him how they want to take his character. but i also think that making him just. Fine with everything is a very underwhelming way to take his character. because he could be so much more than just. zane's brother who is innocent and silly. he can be innocent and silly and still have complicated feelings about his situation and existence yk.

i enjoy villain/antag echo bc it gives him a role in which to explore those complicated feelings as Himself. not as second fiddle to whatever zane is doing, but as a story of his own to come into his identity. because often times when hes included in fan content hes there just to be zanes brother and nothing else. which is so sad for him. because in canon thats all he ever was and all he'll ever be to his father. to zane. to the ninja. he's just the copy. the lesser version. he can never be his own self he will always be a derivative of zane.

like how is that not an interesting thing to explore. and how could we not think about the complicated feelings he would have about that. echo isnt stupid. he isnt incapable of having those kinds of feelings about his identity or role in the world because he is Literally Zane. he is programmed to be identical and he is in every facet of his personality and mannerisms a reflection of how zane was before he met wu/the ninja. when he was just a bit clueless about the world but not Stupid. just unknowledgable. and he was still capable of complicated feelings about himself because we see as early as episode 2 of season 1 he is wondering about himself and his role in the team and how he feels about the world. he isnt just content every day of his life to simply be there; he questions things and thinks about them deeply. why do fan creators often rob echo of this same capability and dumb him down to simply being child-like or incapable of complicated thought?

i always see him just. Fine with everything. and i dont think he needs to be a villain or evil or even violent to make him an interesting character. but i also think that anger and violence is a natural progression of the situation he has been put in by the doctor and by extension the ninja. they too do not regard him as his own individual, only as an extension of zane. which is literally crazy. because he is a whole ass person. they disregard his identity because its the same exact one as a person they already know; but he has no control over that. he didnt ask to be made as a copy of someone else, and now he exists, and he is forced to live knowing he was never his own person, even though he Is. Because he is Himself and he Exists and yet he isnt because his face doesnt belong to him and his voice doesnt belong to him and his name doesnt belong to him. the world decided he is someone else and he cant be who he actually is because someone else is Already him. like christ man. why are we sleeping on this and just making him like yayyy:3 im so happy i love everything or whatever. bro should be questioning his existence!

because i do think joining the SoG gives him such an excellent entry into both formulating his own identity while also paralleling harumi in an interesting way; for both characters in their attempts to create their own identities opposing the ones theyve been forced into, they end up only relating themselves to that identity anyway. in echos attempts to separate himself from zane he ends up relegating himself to hating zane because zane took something from him, an acknowledgement that he is a copy in the first place. their scrapped fight dialogue is so interesting guys. a discarded replica an experiment left to rust. should he not be upset that despite not asking to be made, much less in the image of someone else, he was left abandoned? that he was created solely to be hated by his creator for not being Someone Else? And now he is stuck always chasing after the shadow of that person because he was never meant to be his own person. only zane's copy. never as good as the original. and he has to live with that. its so devastating and good characterization and so interesting that i cannot pass up on it for simply having him be Guy Who is Happy and Innocent.

He is not stupid. He would definitely have less anger in his heart if the ninja got to him before Harumi did, but i think its so impossible that he can simply look at zane and feel nothing. that he can see the person who has cursed his existence into meaninglessness and just be like omg brother:3 because he is doomed to constantly be relegated to Zane's Brother and he will never be Echo to these people that call him a friend. He cant even use his own name he has to be Echo. because its someone elses name and not his even though it Is His its the name his father gave him. but hes not allowed to use it because hes not the original. and he is lesser. and he will always just be zanes brother and he will never be zane. and he will never even be echo. isnt that so fucked.

#ajax speaks #long post lel #echo zane #ninjago

88 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

um-bom-capricorniano

Teu Caprica

andyonlinebusiness

Digital Business Opportunity www.ackinlan.com

weezoom

WeeZooM

froggyfun365

My Melancholy Baby

killedbyvampires

Killed By Vampires