#literally the second she canonically turned 20
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PETER HALE | “CREEPER WOLF” (teen wolf)
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“A Different Breed” (Peter Hale x Fem!Reader)
| With Lydia (& Allison) unwilling to help, and Peter unwilling to let himself be pushed around and fucked over by children, Peter finds other means to unlocking the secrets trapped in his late sister’s claws.
| SFW, canon divergence, manipulative!peter (what’s new though really?), reader is of African and Irish descent -banshee!reader
| 1k+ words
“Y/n L/n.”
Instinctually your brows furrow at the sound of your name even as you’re still looking at the ledgers on the library table.
“Yes?” You turn towards the person, a man. Trying not to seem rude you do him the favor of not looking at him as if he’s crazy for coming up to you with your full government name in his mouth. “If you’re looking for Ms. Fields she’s in the computer lab.”
He shakes his head. Something about the way he’s looking at you makes you stay stiff as you try to place if you’ve seen him before while leaning back on the table.
“Oh no,” he smiles in a way that’s probably supposed to be pleasant, “I’ve found exactly who I was looking for.”
Mhm. Part of your soul starts to ring out with danger bells but you don’t let him see that.
Planting your hands behind you on the desk you lean back some, inclining your head softly to the side, “What were you looking for me for?”
“Help.”
You nod slowly, dark fingers tapping against the edge of the table. This man doesn’t exactly give off the vibe of someone who needs (or trusts) help from anybody, but part of your job was literally helping people so you couldn’t call bullshit just yet.
You make sure to keep your expression open.
“Cool. What can I help you with, Mr… ?”
At your light promoting it’s like a flip switches and he suddenly remembers he has to seem far less suspicious than he’s otherwise been coming off.
His face loses its tension and in response you relax the tiniest bit as well.
“Hale,” he easily answers the inquiry.
The name pings at something familiar in your head. Hale…Hale? Ah!
“As in Talia Hale?”
The man’s eyebrows go up and a cool smile takes over his face.
“Yeah actually. I’m surprised you’re old enough to remember.”
You give him a tight lipped smile. He definitely isn’t looking to make a light library request if he’s a werewolf whose purposely sought you out.
“I’m in my 20’s actually. I went to school with Derek.”
He hums, a sound that might actually be signifying a genuine moment of interest.
“You know what? I thought your name sounded familiar.” He points to you, a roguish smile stretches across sharp features. “You were the basketball team’s manager, weren’t you?”
You snort despite yourself.
Out of all the reasons he could have remembered you by - the most likely of which being that you were one of the scant few black student body that went to BHS - that it was for basketball was a pleasant enough surprise.
“Yeah, I was, actually - and since you’re not Derek I’m gonna guess you’re his uncle.”
“Yes well,” he makes a low sound and meets your eyes, “I am his uncle. Peter.” He holds out his hand.
You only have a second to eye it in contemplation before it becomes socially unacceptable, but he’s got a really intense stare and you’re already nervous about this whole thing, so you end up biting the bullet before you can really think your decision through.
Hastily, you accept his outstretched hand to shake and immediately he uses the connection to pull himself closer. It forces you to knock your head back a bit to keep looking him in the face, your own face heating up.
Peter chuckles. It’s smooth and feels just a little patronizing and makes your eyebrow raise.
Those alarm bells from earlier start kicking up a fuss, whirring through your bloodstream like a tsunami. You keep a tightly controlled lid on it, but just barely.
Even as a beta Peter Hale was dangerous.
“You gonna stare at me with those pretty eyes all day, or you gonna tell me what you need?”
The corner of his eyes crinkle and his smile widens. His hand is still inhumanly warm against yours.
“Don’t knock yourself short, your eyes are pretty too.” He blinks down at you, eyes twinkling for a brief moment. “Like cognac diamonds.”
You bite the inside of your lip as Peter leans in even more, planting one of his hands next to yours on the table. Your breath speeds up as your bodies graze one another.
Casual as anything Peter leans down till your heads are level so he can whisper.
“Let’s cut the pretense, shall we, I know what you are.” Instantly you tense up again, eyes widening. Now his presence so close to you feels burning hot; nearly suffocating. Your palm is getting sweaty and your fingers are starting to creek at his tightening hold.
You swallow thickly, licking your lips. His breath puffs warmth onto the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to sprout along your brown skin.
“I'm going to need to use those abilities of yours.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You bite your lip harder after the poorly hidden shakiness in your voice meets your ears. The man - the wolf looming over you chuffs, voice going back to normal.
“Come on, Sweetheart. We both know that’s not true.” He straightens up then, his now free hand coming to press into his chest. “Let’s make this easier. I’m Peter Hale, big bad werewolf; and you’re Y/n L/n, prettiest banshee in Beacon Hills.”
“There’s other banshees in this town.”
He nods.
“Oh I know, but I’m not much into children and she wouldn’t be my type anyway. Now, you’re going to help me because teenage girls are brats.”
Your jaw works as you stare up at him. There’s not much you could even do in this situation other than go along or get your throat ripped out. You’d overheard some…things about Peter from your father the night he was admitted into the hospital that you’d rather not get a personal example of. Pack left hand, ruthless, it was good he wasn’t able to cause any more trouble.
“Fine,” you force out.
Eyes dropping, you glare daggers into the floor as he chuckles.
“Good choice.” He starts dragging you off towards one of the back rooms, “Now how advanced in your birthright are you? And who activated you?”
Your jaw clenches but you make yourself answer anyway.
“Since I graduated high school,” you glare at his back, “and not a who, a what.”
“Ah,” Peter nods and gestures for you to unlock the door. “The nemeton?”
Snatching your key ring from your pocket you shove the correct one into the hole and the second the key’s pulled back he’s knocking it open and shoving you in before him.
You stumble but quickly spin back around to keep your eyes on the werewolf.
“Yes,” you snap, “the nemeton was left defenseless and was just reacting to the only supernatural beings left, dormant or not.”
Peter locks and then leans against the door.
“Me and you,” he says, crossing his arms.
You hum an affirmative and go about shoving your rumpled clothes back into place.
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“Noted.”
He has the audacity to throw you yet another one of those roguish smiles before those angelite eyes flash a supernatural electric blue.
That thing deep within you that turns your eyes white and forces a wail from your throat when death’s near rumbles inside your chest in response. You glare at Peter, shoving it down.
“Just tell me what you want.”
He claps before pulling a brown ornate jar out from behind his back.
“I want you to tell me what memory is trapped in these,” he scowls, “the full memory.”
“No shit,” you grunt.
When you reach for the jar he puts it more out of reach and inclines his head to give you a reproachful look though. You roll your eyes, the one time a man shows some interest in you and it’s this guy.
“I get it. The full memory or you’ll rip my throat out with your teeth or whatever.”
He scoffs but hands you the jar. You start to untwist it.
“The whole throat teeth thing is much more my nephew's style. No, I like to use my claws. There’s zero need for blood in my mouth when it’s sticking to my clothes.”
You grimace. Damn v-neck wearing bastard. No stable person talked like that, he was crazy, and you say as much out loud.
“So you're crazy?”
He laughs, sounding a little startled, and you dump the five werewolf claws into your palm. Ooookay.
“I’ve got to say, I like you way more than the other banshee I know.”
You grunt.
“Martin’s daughter, right?”
“Just the one,” he drawls.
You nod vaguely while inspecting the claws, turning them over with the fingers of your free hand. They’ve got a distinct hum of magic around them still, a particular frequency.
“These are Talia’s,” you state.
“Oh you are on a roll today, Sweetheart,” his eyes run over your body appreciatively before jumping back to your face. His smirk only widens at the unimpressed look you’re giving him, “now just tell me what she took from me.”
You give him one last pinched look before closing your eyes and clamping your fist around the sharp points. You exhale and focus on the frequency.
Alphas. Head of their packs. Crimson eyes. Leaders. Wolves. Chosen protector of Beacon Hills, burned alive on its lands after years of successfully protecting it and the people within it.
Your eyes snap open. They’re white. White like snow or powdered sugar. Like your mother’s favorite blanket on the back of the couch or like the steam from the pot when you whip up some soup when you’re missing your grandma like hell. White like the froth from crashing waves, like the blur between the mother, the spirit, and the crone when they flash before mortals eyes. White like the void between life and death.
The blank image before you, as you see with different eyes, flashes into one of a black haired woman. Talia Hale. She’s standing beside a chair, a chair Peter’s sitting in. Another flash and a screaming woman is there, talking about a baby and Peter and how it’s taking her power goddamnit!
You gasp, eyes blinking back to the present and keel forward, dropping the claws to the floor in the process. You barely make out the tiny clinks of them hitting the vinyl, hands resting on bent knees as harsh breaths rush from your chest.
Peter’s suddenly there, the claws are no longer on the ground and the jar’s nowhere to be seen. He grabs your forearms and then hefts you upright, shaking you.
“What? What was it? What’d you see?”
You groan and try to shake him off but he doesn’t budge. His grip only gets tighter.
“Fuck you,” you gasp. “You’ve got a kid - a Coyote wer - somewhere here in Beacon.”
NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I’ll catch any typos later.
In retrospect it really is wild how little black people were in Teen Wolf. Like, off the top of my head there was only four, I think.
btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.
#peter hale#black!reader#black y/n#peter hale x black!reader#banshee!reader#peter hale x fem!reader#talia hale’s claws#peter hale & malia tate#peter hale x reader#peter hale imagine#teen wolf x reader#teen wolf imagine#teen wolf
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You Make A Mess Of Me
Daenerys Targaryen x Missandei
Summary: An alternate universe where Daenerys Targaryen is Queen of The Seven Kingdoms and Missandei of Naath is her Queen Consort.
Wordcount: 1.4k
Warnings: alpha/beta/omega dynamics, just filth, alpha daenerys, omega missandei, you know how i love my crackships
Note: i really have no explanation for this literally wrote it in 20 mins but they deserved so much better in show canon which is why i have not stopped thinking about them since!
"My dragon Queen, come back to bed." Missandei practically whines as she begrudgingly watches Daenerys get dressed for the day.
The alpha hums in acknowledgement, but ultimately does not comply, her back still towards Missandei as she fixes her breastplate.
"Later, perhaps." She responded simply, but the omega was not satisfied.
She comes up behind the silver haired woman, with only a sheet covering her frame.
Missandei wraps an arm around the Queen, stilling her movements, as she rests her front against Dany's back.
"You smell of dragon." Missandei quips.
"You flatter me, my love." Daenerys responds, a smirk playing on her lips.
Missandei doesn't respond, instead she tilts her head, tracing open mouthed kisses up the Queen's neck.
Almost instinctively, Daenerys leans back with a contented sigh, allowing the other woman further access.
The curly haired woman lets go of her grip on Dany's hand so she may reach down. With a single bold move, she eagerly palms the alpha's bulge over her slacks.
Daenerys lets out a low groan of approval as her lover continues massaging her cock over its confines; in a few short moments Missandei feels it harden underneath her touch.
"You have gotten very bold these past few moons, my love." The Queen states, and her tone only works to further excite her wife.
Dany finally turns around to look at the omega and Missandei languidly lets go of the sheet that was covering herself, deliberately leaving her naked body exposed.
Upon seeing this, something in the Targaryen snaps, her gaze darkens as she crashes her lips against Missandei's.
The curly haired woman reciprocates with as much despair and need.
Her fingers getting lost in silver locks, tugging and pulling. The kiss is open mouthed and messy, Daenerys greedily inhales every breath her omega exhales. The Queen soon guides the other woman further back onto the bed, prompting her wife to lay her head on the pillow.
Missandei introduces her tongue mid kiss and the Queen takes the opportunity to capture it in between her lips, sucking it on it harshly. She doesn't pull away until her wife is gasping for air.
Dany finally retreats so she may begin taking off her clothes, Missandei watches as she hastily removes her breastplate, along with her doublet and breeches. Finally she takes off her small clothes, and her cock is finally released, Missandei immediately takes notice of its erect state, thick and heavy.
The curly haired woman parts her legs instinctively; licking her lips as she observes Daenerys stroking her length, her steely gaze does not falter, only growing darker by the second.
"What have I told you about touching me without my consent?" The alpha's tone betrays no notion of a jest, but her lover decides to push her luck anyway.
"That I should do it?" Missandei responds cheekily.
Dany's expression merely hardens at her wife's audacity, and Missandei's entire body hums in anticipation.
"I think you deserve a punishment– for disobeying your Queen." Daenerys states, bending down to retrieve something off the floor.
Missandei only recognises what the alpha had in her hand as she climbed onto the bed.
The curly haired woman attempts to capture the Queen's lips with her own but she is distracted as she feels cold metal against her skin, followed by smooth leather wrapping around her wrist.
Dany tugs on the belt and Missandei's arm is lifted up until it reaches the bedpost.
It was then the omega finally let herself acknowledge what was happening; she was being restrained to the bed.
Dany wordlessly does the same to her wife's other arm. Once she was satisfied, she leaned down to kiss her, it's a hefty kiss that leaves Missandei wanting more, but the new restraints prevent her from attempting to chase the alpha's lips.
She whines in clear protest, and Daenerys only smiles.
"I am going to make you regret disobeying me, my sweet omega– so that you will never do it again." The Targaryen says, placing a chaste kiss on the other woman's cheek.
Missandei does not know what her wife intends to do for certain, but she is partially sure that it will do nothing beyond urge her to further act against the Queen's wishes.
Although, she does not admit this, instead the omega bites her lip, suppressing a look of exhilaration.
Dany soon begins licking her way up Missandei's body; her thighs, her navel, her neck.
Her wife finally reaches the familiar spot on her neck; her mating mark, she deliberately bites down, nearly breaking skin, and Missandei lets out a hiss at the sensation.
The pain only causes a thrill of arousal down her body, straight to her core.
Missandei tugs on the restraints again.
"Please– touch me–" The Queen consort pleads, embarrassed at just how needy she sounded.
"I am touching you." Dany casually states as fact, gently swiping her tongue across one of her nipples, and her wife's moan was involuntary.
"Daenerys.." Missandei groans, swiftly earning a harsh pinch on the same nipple.
It makes the omega yelp in pain, but the pleasure she feels immediately after overpowers it.
"Stop teasing me– please– Your Grace." Missandei whines, she was already dripping for her alpha, certain at this point, her arousal has already soaked the mattress underneath.
"You've been very bad, Missandei." Daenerys quips as she continues to nip at her wife's sensitive skin.
"Why should I give you anything you ask for?" She adds, licking her way down the omega's thighs, reveling at the feeling of her wife's goosebumps forming on her tongue.
"Because you love me." Missandei replies simply and the alpha stills.
The look her wife is giving her is unfamiliar, perhaps it was due to her current state of arousal and inability to think of much else, but Missandei cannot decipher it.
Is it fury? Desire?
The omega doesn't get the chance to ponder a moment longer, as her wife settles quickly herself on top of her, Dany holds herself up by her forearms as she lines up the tip of her cock to the other woman's entrance.
With one rash movement of her hips, Daenerys is fully sheathed inside of her wife's cunt.
Missandei half screams and moans at the sensation; it is deep relief, pain and pleasure.
She tugs at the restraints again, a reflexive urge to pull her alpha closer.
"Is this what you wanted?" Dany growls, her thrusts continue to be purposeful and rough, her thick cock stretching the omega's cunt deliciously, hitting every spot within her, leaving her lightheaded and gasping.
"Yes.. yes.." Missandei manages through her moans, she wraps her legs around the alpha's waist, an attempt to hold her as close as she can.
"You drive me mad, did you know that?" Dany grunts, punctuating her words with every thrust.
A compliment or an insult, Missandei could not say for sure, but still, she nods her head vigorously in response, her eyes shut tightly.
Daenerys places her open mouth over the mating mark once again, this time allowing her warm tongue to soothe the earlier bite.
Missandei mewls as she feels a familiar tightening in the pit of her stomach, her release fast approaching; the alpha is not far behind as she deepens her strokes.
With a few deep thrusts the omega finally comes undone around the other woman's cock, her wife following swiftly behind her, releasing thick spurts of her seed deep inside her wife's wanting cunt.
"Seven Hells." Daenerys cursed, breathless and disoriented, as she continued the movement of her hips, riding out her peak.
Her wife remained trembling underneath her, gone totally slack, yet content as she felt the aftershocks of her orgasm.
The Queen finally musters the strength to reach up, releasing her wife's arms from the restraints.
Once freed Missandei's hands immediately move to her wife's back and neck, pulling her in for a deep, lingering kiss.
"I love you." Daenerys whispers against her wife's lips as they parted.
Missandei rubs her nose against the alpha's affectionately before answering.
"I love you too." She says, and the smile that appears on Dany's face is instantaneous.
"Well you have succeeded in making me stay, I am afraid I will not be able to move for the next few candle marks." She adds, not making an effort to pull out of her wife, only laying her head against her shoulder.
Missandei grins at that.
"Good. Stay forever." She replies.
#daenerys targaryen#daenerys stormborn#missandei#missandei of naath#g!p#crackship#daenerys targaryen smut
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⏤ para sentir el calor del sol, series masterlist.
pairing. joel miller x fem!reader
series synopsis. the story of a man riddled with coldness, struggling to let in the warmth he's hidden away from for years, and the ray of sunshine he calls his sol.
series warnings. no use of y/n ( reader has the nickname of sol ), enemies-ish to lovers, slow-burn, sunshine!reader, queer!tess, miscommunication/no communication, toxic approaches to love/feelings, obsessive behaviours, pining, undefined age gap ( reader can be interpreted as late 20s/early 30s in the canon timeline ) discussions of s.a., depictions of grief, child-loss and canon-typical violence, limited fluff, angst, smut ( lots of it ).
series wordcount. 30.9k ( thus far. )
series playlist. dia de enero - shakira, fallingforyou - the 1975, he gets me so high - beabadoobee, hate to see your heart break - paramore, out of the woods - taylor swift
disclaimers. 1) this series will roughly comply with the canon of both the hbo series and the video game but i have taken the liberty of changing certain scenes, events and dialogue to better suit the fic’s plot. 2) this series will have no official update schedule because i suck at sticking to them. no link = not posted yet.
add yourself to the taglist.
read on ao3. ( capitalisation available )
a word from hyde. i never intended for the likeability paradox to turn into this, it was simply meant to be a brainrot drabble of joel being on his knees. now here i am, willing to put my life on the line for joel and his sol, no hesitation because they mean that much to me.
i. the likeability paradox.
synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.
warnings. pining, unrequited love, canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon. )
word count. 12.9k
ii. the revving of engines.
synopsis. joel miller’s not made it this far in the age of the apocalypse just to die at the hands of some adrenaline-crazed, no-brain-having fool who barely knows where to place her hands on the steering wheel. hind-sight fully intact and ever-so eye opening, he should have said no before frank could even finish his question: can you teach the girl to drive?
warnings. panic attacks, perv!joel, slightly dark!joel, soft!joel ( for like a second ), a smidge of fluff, gun violence, murder, smut ( unprotected piv sex- don’t be silly, wrap that willy-, public sex, car sex but also not, exhibitionism, possessiveness, murder kink [ kinda but not really, joel just gets... more enthusiatic at the thought of protecting the reader], mentions/implications of panty stealing, male masturbation, sex as a form of payment, glory-holes, dubcon.
word count. 16.8k
iii. the butterfly theory.
synopsis. two seasons pass before joel's very eyes and, without the presence of his sol, neither the spring nor the summer seem to heat his aching soul. what's meant to be a simple drop off at bill and frank's becomes a whirlwind of events that sends you barrelling right back into joel's arms, and all it takes is a horrified shriek: otis is missing!
warnings. mentions/implications of sa, only-one-bed trope ( with a twist ), smut. + more warnings to be added !
word count. ( unknown ).
iv. the weight of silver.
synopsis. joel should have known better than to trust that woman to keep her mouth shut. it’s not that tess servopoulos is bad at keeping secrets but, rather, that she views them as a way to connect, to share a precious gem among those she cares about. the added affect of embarrassing joel is merely the cherry on top. she may have put her foot a little too far into her mouth with this one though: joel’s got a new woman.
warnings. jealousy, possessiveness, hints of sexual ownership, smut. + more warnings to be added !
word count. ( unknown ).
(+ more parts to be added. )
timeline outtakes ! aka drabbles
11:11 ( infected, 2008 ).
14:57 ( unshaken, 2011 ).
22:22 ( lookalike, 2016 ).
18:22 ( leashes, 2022 ).
20:34 ( tuxedos, 2023 ).
05:48 ( sunrise, 2023 ).
03:33 ( terror, 2023 ).
02:13 ( delirium, 2023 ).
08:03 ( routine, 2023 ).
19:17 ( overheard, 2023 ).
#joel miller smut#joel miller series#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal smut#joel miller fluff#joel miller angst#𓄹 nav;
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Show Me Your Moves! (Chapter 20)
AO3 STORY
Chapter 20 : Spirit Shackle
Spirit Shackle is a damage-dealing move that can prevent the target from switching out or fleeing as long as the user is still in battle. Wimp Out, Emergency Exit, the Red Card, the Shed Shell, and the Eject Button can bypass this effect.
You should stop jinxing yourself like this…
You ended up going down the hole with MK.
And neither of you had a splendid landing.
MK landed on the ground, creating a small crater from the impact, and you unfortunately landed on top of him. Thank goodness he wasn’t too hurt from it.
You rebounded first, immediately getting off of Mk and standing up.You were about to apologise to him too, but DBK's glare was much more menacing in-person than in-cartoon, it made you shrink back in fear.
“Ooh! Wait a minute!” MK groaned as he stretched, and you winced when you heard his back crack.
He stretched some more, rolling his shoulders, ready to fight. “Sun Wukong! Return to defeat me again? I will not let that happen!” DBK yelled out.
MK looked confused. “Uh… I think you got the wrong guy buddy.” The delivery boy was then rudely swatted away by DBK, and you gasped when he turned to you.
Before you could attack, however, Princess Iron Fan swooped in and sent a wind attack at her husband, surprising you. “The canisters. The power within them has driven him mad.” She explained.
MK used his gold vision, and a look of shock came over his face. He nodded. “Okay, time for round two.”
“No.��� MK looked over at Red Son in surprise, both him and PIF standing in front of him, brandishing their powers and weapons respectively. “This time, we will fight with you.”
Red Son went in to attack first, and PIF turned to both of you. “You two have one shot, so make it count.”
Okay, still the same, cool.
What wasn’t the same was that DBK was now absurdly fast. He couldn’t stand in one place for one second before quickly dodging an attack. The canisters didn’t even have a scratch on them.
At this point, things were going slower than anticipated.
DBK needed to stop moving, or at least be slower like in canon. You had these wacky powers, but could you slow someone down or stop them completely?
Worth a shot. You thought to yourself.
So while they were still fighting, you raised a hand and visualised a way to stop him, and your brain supplied you with a plan. And your powers activate immediately after.
From the shadows, you had summoned a multitude of sharp arrows, all aimed at DBK. He looked shocked at your display of power but ducked with ease. The arrows landed back in his shadow, and he laughed at your miss.
He went to move at you again, but your plan worked. Because the arrows were made of shadow, and they hit his shadow, his shadow was essentially ‘stitched’ to the ground, making him unable to move.
He tried moving more, thrashing his arms around, but the shadows and arrows had enough. Next thing anyone else knew, chains emerged from the shadows and grabbed onto both his wrists, yanking down and pulling him down onto his knees.
“Get those canisters, MK!” You grunted. This was a lot more difficult than you thought. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold him down!”
With a determined nod, MK let Red Son and PIF move back before summoning a batch of clones to attack the canisters with him.
And as soon as those canisters exploded, you felt a shudder as the mist literally flew through you, which made you release your shadowy arrows and chains. You grunted and stumbled a bit, feeling lightheaded.
The Flaming Foundry began collapsing upon itself, and with a heartfelt moment between DBK and PIF, the entire family disappeared in a whirlwind, leaving you and MK away.
“They couldn’t have teleported us out too!?” MK yelped, grabbing you by the arms and pulling you away from where a rock landed where you just were.
“HEY GUYS!” You looked up to see Mei in MK’s mech. “Hop in, besties!”
Mei safely evacuated you all from the Flaming Foundry and reunited you all with Pigsy, Tang and Sandy. “You did it little buddy, you beat DBK! Again!” Sandy cheered as he hugged you three.
“Good going, kids.” Pigsy praised you three, with Tang nodding along proudly.
MK sighed in relief. “Yeah, I really hope we don’t have any incidents like that for a while.”
MK DON’T JINX US!!!
“I say some celebratory noodles are in order.” Tang said with a smug smile, and while Pigsy huffed, he didn’t go against the idea. Instead, he was the first one walking back to the van while everyone was cheering about noodles.
You followed in the very back, feeling a cold chill in the air again, and you apologised to the poor, innocent girl that the Lady Bone Demon possessed.
Don’t apologise, mortal.
Embrace destiny.
~~~
<PREV ~ NEXT>
#lego#lego monkie kid#lmk mk#lmk sandy#lmk x reader#lego monkie kid x reader#x reader#reader insert#platonic relationships#platonic#gender neutral reader#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral post#cross posted on ao3#lady bone demon#lmk macaque#six eared macaque#lmk sun wukong#sun wukong#lmk wukong#lmk pigsy#lmk red son#lmk tang#lmk#lmk mei#lmk monkey king#lmk mayor#lmk jin#lmk yin#lmk pif
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Exploring dofus-le-film.com and talking about movie-related events. [PART 1]
This will not go into the goldmine that is the interview Tot and Xa give about Joris. This is just a little, self-indulgent post. I hope you will enjoy it nevertheless.
The first silly action I took was extracting the site's icon and enlarging it in Aseprite, so here's your daily dose of cute official Joris pixel art. Anyway.
I love how the movie blurb literally lies about Khan being Joris's life-long idol.
CHARACTER BIOS.
Most of them include the information we already know, so I will only be pointing out things I personally find interesting.
For example - this art here depicts Joris's bald head under the hood as very round. Very useful info for us joris enjoyers. Reblog to slap his bald head, like to slap his bald head.
(Hacks up blood) Deeply caring in nature... papa poule... It is the second time, when Kerubim is called that, in his character bios, and I would like you to remember are these different explanations of this word combo:
I'm insane. I love him a lot.
Bakara is a pleasure to have in class :)
Anyway, I love how non-specific and non-alarming these character bios are. We can't scare the hoes by saying that beneath her cool exterior she wants to kill people around her and also drink 20 gallons of vodka, so "shy and stuck up" it shall be.
Again, it's hilarious how non-threatening these character bios are, considering Lilotte's whole parent thing is basically: (substitute "women" with "kids with families")
Coloring pages + Crayon Contest
A part of me wanted to be "haha, I colored all these coloring pages, for the Full Understanding of The Experience of this movie."
Then I realized that, as a person who is making a Joris painted music video, and had drawn at least 1:07 minutes worth of artwork of him and some other characters of this movie, I would rather-- [remembers that suicide jokes are bad] take cactus for a wife, than draw him for this blog too. I'm sorry.
Not much to be said about the contest, though this is epic:
This little Joris can be found at the bottom of the "win some crayons" page. It's cute.
BLOGPOSTS
This image was drawn for MIFA.
I want to unpack what is occurring here:
Goultard is holding his dragon boyfriend rather gayly on the shoulder. Interesting.
One of the candles landed in Nox's face?
Atcham, Joris, and Lilotte were holding the cake together. Lilotte is sitting on Yugo's shoulder, while Joris is standing on Kerubim's arms. It is reasonable to assume that Yugo turned to the camera, which made Lilotte turn as well, which made Atcham fall, which made Kerubim step away, and the only people carrying the cake who are still even a bit happy are Joris and Yugo.
Adamai is getting ready to catch Joris when in like 5 seconds all of them are going to be tumblring down Atcham-style.
Incredible. But this illustration is not the only gem that Annecy has brought us!
It also brought us more of Atcham being cool and awesome.
I'm insane.
There's more rare art here: these t-shirts featuring designs from a fan contest.
They were made in limited numbers. I'm including them here because we don't exactly have copies of the artwork, and I am insane about preserving art. It might be somewhere — but that somewhere is probably 2016 french facebook, so as far as I'm concerned, trying to seek these out is a lost cause.
Exclusive Merch
There were playing cards, and I am happy to report we DO have artwork for them in HD:
And also, here's a slightly higher definition little game sprite esque Joris:
This is the future crepinjurgenites want.
Kerubim VS Atcham Rigged Pet Contest
I am sad to report that Atchamheads have lost again, in this rigged contest. Imagine asking:
Would you like a fluffy guy you have watched an entire series about, or this bald guy who appears twice in the franchise?
At the very least, this gives us a canonical kitten Atcham design.
(Also, both of them were added, jsyk... Still salty though.)
Maliki Art
Maliki is a webcomic not made by Ankama, but with a long relationship and connection to Ankama due to being published by them in the past.
It's cute, really.
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I've been thinking about how much I adore Tonks and Remus' dynamic but physically cannot ship them because my brain is being weird about their fucking age gap. this is so frustrating. they would have been so lovely for me if Tonks was like at least 27 in 5th book. Ronks (yeah I'm not calling it Remadora, Tonks hates her birth name ffs) would have been my ride-or-die alongside Jily and Wolfstar for sure.
because literally nothing else that Ronks antis consider deal breakers for them matters to me - not the fumbled way they get together in canon, not them getting married so quickly, not Tonks getting pregnant, not the assumed queer-coding of both characters (which I personally see, don't get me wrong. but it's assumed and who the fuck says they can't be queer4queer anyway?). sure, the nuclear family narrative being pushed so quickly and thoroughly onto them is peculiar but who says they didn't want to make the most of their time during a war? I love wartime drama and they would have been my shit if it weren't for... well. Tonks being 22 and Remus 35 when they meet.
I just can't ship big age gaps unless the youngest character is closer to 30 than 20. which is infuriating, because Ronks is objectively more fascinating because of their gap. my fucking loss, don't you think?
anyway, after thinking of ways I can make Tonks older without hurting the story, I began wondering whether her age is narratively important, and yes, turns out it very much is - for Harry.
Tonks being 22 in order of phoenix makes her the closest of Order members to Harry's age (Weasley twins don't count because they're Ron's brothers first, order members second for Harry) and the one Order member Harry can relate to the most in his youth and desire to fight. She almost perfectly parallels marauders and Lily in first war and represents the fun of the fight, the fire of youth, the confidence of a new recruit, the safety of relatability for Harry. She's one of the biggest inspirations for his newfound dream of becoming an auror. Harry needs Tonks among those older, battle-worn, cautious, secretive adults who don't take him seriously and never look him in the eye, because he wants to be what she is even before realising it and only reflects on it after spending time with her.
all in all, Tonks being 22 matters quite a lot for Harry's story.
now, we have no way of knowing whether Joanne came up with Ronks storyline prior to Tonks' introduction, but it shouldn't matter for their relationship, not in Joanne's opinion - Tonks' youth already fulfilled its narrative role in order of phoenix and stopped being an important asset of her character in half-blood prince.
oh, but unfortunately it still matters in the grand scheme of things, Joanne. you don't just introduce a young adult character (I'm 21 myself and gods, 22/23 is barely more mature), chuck their established age out the window and pair them up with a character in their mid-to-late thirties. and of fucking course it makes sense for a 23 year old to be down bad for some scruffy 36 year old man, it's incredibly realistic! this 36 year old man acting upon such crush is a little questionable, but still realistic (and we know Remus is very flawed, so I'm not surprised). but you know what isn't realistic at all?
Molly - a 46 year old woman, married to her high school sweetheart, mother to 7 children, 3 of which are close to Tonks' age - being extremely supportive of actually engaging in that sort of relationship, going as far as reprimanding Remus for not committing to it. I'm sorry, what? Molly might have some flaws as a mother, but she is nothing if not protective of her kids and those in their age range. She genuinely becomes somewhat of a mother figure for Tonks during their time in the Order, and I just cannot for the life of me understand how Molly could encourage her to pursue Remus and vice-versa, instead of consoling Tonks in her tragic crush and making sure Remus doesn't even look at her like that.
Minerva - an even older woman who taught both Remus and Tonks at Hogwarts, witnessed Remus becoming an adult from his graduation in 1978 up until 1981, then saw an 11 year old Tonks start Hogwarts 3 years later in 1984 - chiding Remus for not being "brave" enough to commit to such relationship. first of all, why the fuck is she involved in that narrative at all? it's none of her business??? she's not in any pseudo parenting role for either of them, unlike Molly, so I never understood why she even has a place to voice her opinion about their romance. second of all, even if it was her business, Minerva - a professor who witnessed both Remus and Tonks grow up so many years apart - would realistically feel pretty weird about such relationship.
those aren't problems with the ship itself, but rather the way Joanne implemented their romance in the story. I think it would be more realistic if Ronks was some kind of fucked up forbidden romance from other characters' perspectives. the way everybody is so instantly supportive of them is quite jarring to me.
interestingly, when I read hp for the first time at 11 I was quite adamant in my belief that Tonks was in love with Molly up until that scene in half-blood prince. a very weird belief for a kid, I know. I just only liked girls at the time and was relating to Tonks quite a bit since her introduction, so I guess I unconsciously decided she was a lesbian even without knowing that term yet. I also had a crush on my teacher in 4th grade and she was quite similar to Molly... yeah, this girl was projecting too much. I didn't pick up on Remus' queer-coding until I fell down the rabbit hole of lgbt discourse at 14, but was pretty shocked to read about Tonks falling for a man at 11. she was so like me until she wasn't :) it's pretty funny to think about now.
in conclusion, I'm hella jealous of those of you who don't have weird brains and can enjoy Ronks to their fullest potential. their canon writing has its issues but they're more interesting for it, truly. I'll stay in my no fun corner, headcanoning them as lavender married, queer-platonic, bisexual besties co-parenting Teddy Alastor Tonks.
#ronks#remadora#i don't like that ship name ugh#remus x tonks#tonks#nymphadora tonks#remus lupin#harry james potter#molly weasley#minerva mcgonagall#teddy lupin#teddy tonks tho#cuz remus doesn't deserve him#canonically deadbeat dad#lowkey wanna punch this man
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Common Amane Innocent talk because no I won't shut up about her and nobody can fucking make me. Look at all the prisoners wielding weapons in the new minigram that they all have access to within the prison!
Scissors something everyone canonically has access to due to Amane's voice drama.
A fucking icepick?!
Why the hell is this here? Oh, the minigrams aren't canon, some will say. They aren't canon to the timeline we're in currently. However, the prisoners are still the prisoners, and they are still in Milgram. Also, Es has confirmed there is a supply closet with an unknown amount of items in it in Amane's second voice drama. All of these are things that would commonly be found in a supply closet or a toolbox that would also commonly be found in a supply closet. Explaining how they managed to fix the sprinklers and make sandbags when the water malfunctioned in that one minigram.
Literally, everyone here, including Shidou, has access to everyday tools that could be used as weapons. Which is fucking wild considering Mu is shown to kill someone with a box cutter that is shown to be a common everyday school supply she carries in her bag. Like everyone is literally screwed this intermission and voting anyone guilty twice in the hopes of getting them restrained could very well lead to that prisoners death.
It's important to think about both Amane and Mikoto's cases seriously.
Restraint doesn't just mean they can not hurt others but that they can not defend themselves as well. Something that is necessary for both of them as they've both had their safety threatened by Kotoko,
20/06/18
Amane: Thank you very much for teaching me. ……but, though I realise it’s strange me saying this after I asked you, I must admit it’s kind of unexpected. You give off the impression of someone who wouldn’t want to get involved in things like this.
Kotoko: ……well, you’re not wrong. I’m surrounded by people who could all be murderers, so I don’t plan on going out of my way to talk and make friends. I can’t let my guard down. But I like ambitious people like you. If you want to study more, then I’m happy to teach.
Amane: I see…… You look scary at first impression, but I quite like the way you treat everyone equally regardless of whether they’re older or younger than you. You don’t just treat me like a child or anything like that.
Kotoko: Treat you like a child? Hah, you’ve got to be kidding. Back when I was your age, I was already the person I am today. I don’t have any plans to let you get away with something just “because you’re a child.” ……remember that. There, I’ve finished marking. 83%. How do I put it… Even though you act like this, it’s not like you’re super brilliant at studying or anything, huh.
22/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday)
Mikoto: Ah, Koto-chan. It’s been a while. Both of us have kinda split off from the group, but how’ve things been? A lot’s happened, but fr now let’s try to get along. I mean, it’s your birthday today, right? I got the feeling nobody else was going to do anything, so I came to celebrate.
Kotoko: ……how carefree. It doesn’t matter, a villain like you won’t be forgiven next time either. And when that time comes, it’ll be the end for you. I’ll make sure of it myself.
Mikoto: Ahh?? Just try and do it, you nutjob. I’ll crush anyone who hurts me…… You’re gonna be totally beaten at your own game……!
[TN: The word “me” here uses first person pronoun “boku”.]
Kotoko: Hm. The border between the two is getting a lot vaguer. Your entire existence is a crime. And I will see you’re punished for it. That is what Milgram, and Es, and I have chosen.
X
And, they are surrounded by multiple people who have been implied to have killed individuals their age. From the beginning of Milgram.
From Shidou saying it's fitting that a child would be the one to judge him in his first voice drama, seeing Haruka's statements on not being good with children Amane's age turning into I'm no longer afraid of children along with being visually shown his victim was a little girl. Combined with his statements regarding Amane in his first voice drama, it is implied that his victim was around or Amane's age. Kotoko jumps a guy who doesn't seem much younger or older than Mikoto and is shown attacking people older than herself. Everyone here has killed, and they all have access to weapons.
So, I find it very interesting to see who's treated as a threat and not by the fandom.
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there are a lot of things in aftg that I think really could’ve just. not been there and I’d have much preferred it. here’s a bit of a vent about things that I dislike about canon (aside from the obvious handling of mental illness and use of slurs and stuff like that. it’s mostly the first two because I do see people talk about 3 a good bit)
~
1. andrew and roland. this is such a big one for me because like? the twins were underage when they started at edens. at oldest he was probably 17 when it started. and I saw somewhere that he was 23?? like that’s all kinds of gross.
NOT TO MENTION. andrew literally says,
“"Presumably he thinks you're as bad at following directions as he is," Andrew said. "Roland knows I don't like being touched."”
andrew literally had to handcuff roland to make sure he followed his boundaries. even if they were the same age, that’s so fucked up. if he didn’t like the rule, don’t hook up with that person. it’s that simple. im sure there were PLENTY of other people willing to hook up with roland, so why did he choose the underage kid with boundaries you won’t respect??
I really wish I saw more fics of people being upset when they find out about it. if I was nicky and I found out my 23 year old supposed friend was sleeping with my underage cousin that I was the guardian of, id have been fucking livid.
anyways fuck roland, she could’ve given us such a cool bartender and we got That
~
2. like why did kevin need a girlfriend? that we only hear about once briefly then meet her officially for a second then she’s gone? and I really don’t like how they met in the first place. he was a CHILD, at oldest when they got together he had to be like 19 because he turned 20 after he moved to the foxes. like yeah he was legal by then but she knew him FROM WHEN HE WAS A CHILD. he was like 13 when she was 18.
and then again, when they see each other again in the kings men. they can’t speak in mixed company?? how brain washed could you be from the ravens. she so clearly is just willing to turn a blind eye to all the fucked up shit that happened there. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she defended riko
~
3. I really wish nicky respected boundaries. it bothers me that the first openly gay character in the book refuses to respect others boundaries. trying to convince neil he’s gay when he repeats he’s not, kissed him while he was drugged, and the comment about matt being “hung like a bull” is so gross. it implies that nicky was looking in the changing rooms, which is the whole thing that people worry about when changing with queer people :/
#I have lots of feelings about these#I am 100% a roland and thea hater#ironic bc I’m thea lmao I hate one of the only characters I’ve ever seen#aftg#neil josten#andrew minyard#kevin day#all for the game
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Going off canon and not the guide because I think it gave SMeyer the opportunity to retcon a few things, I don’t think the imprint goes both ways. I think SMeyer couldn’t fathom the idea of the romantic relationships she wrote not working out.
Billy Black thinks imprinting has to do with strengthening the werewolf bloodline, that the wolves will imprint on someone who is most likely to pass on the gene. That’s a plausible theory, but it’s hardly romantic, and I think it’s tragic because the wolves already lose so much when they begin to phase, and the imprint turns them into thralls, which ironically is a more vampire thing traditionally.
My main reason why the imprint doesn’t go both ways and why it’s not romantic is Jacob and Renesmee. First, Jacob was going to kill Renesmee after he thought Bella had died in Breaking Dawn, and she was an innocent infant. The only thing that saved her from being murdered was the very conveniently timed imprint. Second, there’s no reason why Renesmee of all people would pass on the werewolf gene. The gene is recessive and is activated by vampire presence, and she has no Quileute ancestry. Third, we don’t even know that Renesmee can have children! She does not need food, just blood, so when she reaches physical maturity like Nahuel, what’s to say she doesn’t stop menstruating, what’s to say she even starts menstruating in the first place? I also think that given Renesmee’s half vampire nature, any baby she and Jacob would have would spontaneously abort given Jacob’s comment about if Rosalie spat in his food he would have suffered physical consequences in Breaking Dawn. Even though Renesmee isn’t venomous, she is half vampire and that has to have an effect. Lastly, I remember what Jacob was like when Bella turned him down (also. I just don’t like the idea of Jacob wanting Bella and then wanting her daughter), and he didn’t respect her consent or her wishes. So what happens if Renesmee turns him down? God forbid, I think something similar to Sam and Emily might happen, but I think it would actually be a choice on Jacob’s end.
I think Sam and Emily are making the best of a bad situation, with both of them aware that had he had a choice, it would have been Leah. I think Quil hates himself for imprinting on Claire and the tribe tries to foster distance between them (which the Cullens never do! It’s not Jacob’s fault but they don’t even try to protect Renesmee) and Jared and Kim turned out to be lucky. As for Rachel and Paul, I think Rachel is in her 20s and Paul is in his teens although he physically looks like he’s older, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Rachel got the ick and left because being with Paul would be questionable ethically and it would tie her to the reservation, a place that she’d determinedly left before.
The imprint serves to literally erase someone’s character and force them into a relationship and I refuse to take it seriously as a romantic device. Maybe as a tragic one because it makes things more interesting, but there isn’t sufficient evidence for make me think it goes both ways. I think Bella is an ignorant romantic who only cares that she gets to keep Jacob, and SMeyer desperately needed to tie up a loose end.
The wild thing about Jacob and Renesmee specifically is that apparently the imprint happened in Forever Dawn. So in a world where New Moon and Eclipse didn't happen, and so there was no 'love triangle' at all, Jacob still imprinted on Renesmee. That was always the plan. In which case why on earth write Jacob and Bella the way she did in the middle books? There's no saving the concept of imprinting on a baby, it's always going to gross me out no matter how much "it's innocent!!" SM insists, but at least in Forever Dawn, Jacob and Bella were not an almost-couple themselves; Jacob imprints on a family friend's daughter, not his first love's daughter.
But yeah, I think she did retcon things in the guide, and in canon her explanation is that imprints work out because "who can resist that level of devotion?" Which, I mean . . . depends, right? With say Jared and Kim, where Kim already had a crush on him, him suddenly noticing her and paying attention to her and showering her with love probably felt great! But in another context, some dude constantly following you around and professing eternal devotion can easily be stalkerish and creepy. I'm sure SM's explanation is that "well they wouldn't imprint on someone who would find it stalkerish" but that's super convenient, isn't it?
And yeah, the 'thrall' aspect just absolutely kills any sense of romance for me. I'm sure there are people who enjoy this trope and no shade if you do, but as I said before, for me, love without choice is just meaningless. It's empty. An example I've used before is two people working at a soup kitchen. Once is a volunteer; they are taking time out of their life to give back to the community because they want to, they choose to. Another is performing court-ordered community service, or was forced to go by their parents, or whatever. They aren't there by choice. Both are doing the same thing: helping to feed people in need. But which one is more meaningful, which one would impress you? It's the one who shows up because they choose to, not the one who HAS to be there. That's how imprinting feels to me. Sure, they allegedly become the perfect partners to their imprint, but because they have to. They have no free will of their own. That's HORRIFYING, not romantic.
So, yeah, I'm never going to like imprinting. As you said, as a horror thing there's potential, but as a romantic trope it just Does Not Work for me. And what's so weird to me is that in any other YA series the protagonists would be fighting against the concept of some outside force choosing your partner for you. How many dystopian series have some premise of like "I was matched with Hunk A by the govt/computer/my parents/my religion, but I have feelings for Hunk B!" and then they take down the whole system in the process? Jacob just being like "welp guess my life revolves around this blood-drinking psychic genius baby now" instead of trying to fight to make choices for himself is always going to feel wrong to me.
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Between the implied incest between Ult Dirk and Rosebot and Rosebot and Terezi I’d prefer Rosebot <3< for one caveat.
For the decreasing population of Vrisrezi shippers, Terezi going with Rosebot cucks Vriska from her destined Moirail turned Matespirit, Terezi. (I mean moiraileigence is already romance and soulmates but Matespiritship is seen as traditional human romance… and sex between the pair for SMUT)
Of course Rosebot with anyone else but Kanaya cucks Kanaya.
So we have Kanaya and Vriska, two cucked by their girlfriends, so how do you cope with this double cuck? And say, do you remember 2 female trolls from Act 5 Act 1 who had a one sided crush on the other broken by flirtation with a lowblood?
Maybe they give them a second chance.
Well I guess there’s a problem that Vriska is still 16 in Beyond Canon while Kanaya is in her 20s… in sweeps.
But what the hell! It’s lesbianism! And can we forget Meenah and Vriska’s relationship? Let’s be consistent.
Anyways! Vriska <3 Kanaya is better than postcanon Rosemary.
Vriska x Kanaya aka Spidermoth is better than Davekat.
This is also the same Terezi too that actually had SEX with John and is now carrying his dead body in hopes of reviving him. Whether he becomes June or not, even he will have to find out eventually that Terezi had black flirted with Rosebot. Another heartbreak commence.
For trolls, it is natural for them to enter in polygamy relationship because of quadrants, but in the case for humans like Rose and John, they had accepted monogamy. One even went through literal marriage before Rosebot left Kanaya. And Kanaya had to learn and accept about monogamy from human culture. If she finds out that Rosebot had flirted with both Dirk and Terezi, then she will call her a hypocrite and question herself on why she had thought monogamy was a good idea if it ends in heartache.
I am curious how Vriska would react to all this. She would think she has grown better as a person. Would she think that Terezi is still the same or changed for the worse? Would VRISKA herself start to accept her own presence was the reason Terezi became this way and acknowledges their relationship, friendship or any quadrant kind, is toxic and they shouldn't be together? That would be an interesting character growth for Vriska if she herself sees that being the Scourge Sisters has ended its course.
It would be in lovingly full circle for Kanaya to see that Vriska has gotten better as a person and knowing that she can't always idolize the bad girl persona. Kanaya would finally get her wish and dream granted of finally being with Vriska.
#Vrisnaya#KanVris#Kanaya x Vriska#Vriska x Kanaya#Homestuck#Homestuck 2#HS2#Homestuck^2#Homestuck2#Homestuck Beyond Canon#HSBC#Terezi Pyrope#Rosebot#John Egbert#June Egbert#HS^2
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Do you have any songs you associate with the group and or a particular DunMeshi character? I have a few I associate with Laios and Kabru (mostly Hozier tbh) but been having a harder time for Falin, Marcille, and even Thistle.
the way this launched me into a day long project of making playlists lmfao
This one I haven't curated super well, but I think i put it in a general progression that makes sense. Unfortunately I have a very small range of music that I listen to so Falin just turned into my millionth Sara Bareilles/Ingrid Michaelson themed girlie LMAO
Highlights on this playlist for me:
"Let the Rain" is just an entire mood for post-canon Falin I think. the line that hits the hardest about her for me is "and I always felt it before, that the world was filled with much more than the drowning soul I've learned to be."
"Twenty-three" i know i know i know it's kpop and no one's gonna get the lyrics but I couldn't not put it on the list. it's literally about being 23 and not knowing what kind of "woman" you want to become and still feeling like you want to be a kid a little bit and wanting to be understood but knowing that you don't even understand yourself and feeling like you're running out of time because you're firmly in your 20's now
"Secrets" i know is incredibly personal to Mary Lambert but most of the lyrics really fit and that like... intensely joyful self expression is just so delightful and lovely and what i want for Falin in the post-canon.
"I Am Here" to me, is just the ultimate celebration of being alive, of being joyful and grateful and happy that you're a messy animal that can laugh and hurt. I think Falin would cherish being half-monster, the fact that it gave her a second chance at choosing to be alive rather than sacrificing herself for others and letting that be her entire story, and the freedom it gives her to keep living.
you have to promise not to judge me on this one. you have to. yes i went ahead and curated an entire playlist that has okay-ish transitions/flow between songs and thematically follows Marcille's journey through the story. i also put a bit of kpop on it but it FITS okay she's a girly girl!!!!
It's rough. it's really really rough right now and i'll probably come back to it but the concrete songs i was trying to build around are like...
"What is Love?" it's literally just a girly girl song about wondering what love might feel like. complete with daydreaming about romantic stories and hoping all that wonderfulness will happen to you.
"Men of Snow" okay i know it's Ingrid Michaelson again but hear me out. this song is so fucking heartbreaking. it can be taken in different ways but if you put in Marcille's context it's gutting. it's a song about mortality and the impermanence of everything set to an almost cutesy waltz-beat piano accompaniment.
"Que Sera, Sera" self-explanatory, I think. im lucky this cover is on spotify because it's such a perfect song for encapsulating the entire sequence where Marcille decides to become the dungeon lord. (the second iteration at the end of the playlist is happier, taking the happy and calm interpretation of "what will be, will be", and also includes the second verse about a "sweetheart")
"What Sarah Said" it's a song about being in the ICU waiting for news about a loved one while suddenly realizing that there's nothing you can do. i think almost every line in this song guts me about Marcille, picturing her waiting for Falin to wake up the second time. (it's also my very pretentious attempt at tying the playlist together by answering the earlier question. What is love? "Love is watching someone die.")
"The Last Snowfall" is just. Vienna Teng has been my favourite artist since I was fifteen and part of it is that she has this incredibly beautiful way of leaving lyrics impactful but ambiguous. This song isn't about being afraid of losing someone but miraculously getting a happy ending, it's just an exploration of that fear with a "what if" built in, and I just think it's such a good way of capturing how Marcille was prepared to lose Falin and that was so important, almost even more important than the fact that it ended up being a happy ending anyway. also I wish i could have put in the live version because it's insane
For Thistle the only recommendation I have is Bird Song by Florence and the Machine it's wonderfully eerie, i literally think it's the best musical depiction of that specific kind of guilty murderer anxiety of "the telltale heart" from edgar allan poe
#asks#dungeon meshi#playlists#my taste in music is super limited i know i know#shush#and don't come after me for the kpop okay#it's really hard for me to keep korean songs out of my playlists bc they're just like. normal music to me#my one-sided falin pining playlist is just fucking loaded with the saddest korean songs you'll ever hear lmao#i always joke about how my internal emotional infrastructure is made out of vienna teng and crj songs#but surprisingly carly doesn't make many appearances in my dunmeshi playlists#ostensibly the vibe fits marcille but the inherent honest horniness kind of just bounces off her virgcel ridiculousness#also im not a Disney Adult i promise#that one song from tangled just has exactly what it takes to become 10x more eerie and tragic within the context of the resurrection#marcilleposting
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Satine most likely used to be a warrior
For some reason Satine's backstory is still a mystery despite being the love interest of one of the most popular and important characters in all of star wars.
However we can infer her past through parts of the show and supplementary material, and this shows that it is quite possible
Clan Kryze were she comes from is a warrior clan so it makes sense she was trained as one since childhood
Obi wan attributes her pacifism to the mandolorian civil war killing most of her people. He is a fairly trustworthy narrator and was there with her the entire time. She was also less than 20 years old when she became duchess so its not unbelievable that the horros of war made her give up violence for good.
She carries a deactivator pistol which is a non lethal blaster. Satine would have to train on how to handle a pistol to be that comfortable and that good a shot.
Tal Merrik (An agent of deathwatch i remind you) has her in a chokehold and she fluidly breaks the hold and steals his blaster turning the tables. This took her quite literally a second, if not for her aversion to violence she could have killed him in less than 2
The curruption episode has Satine almost go on a total warpath once she finds out something is poisoning children.
Finally the coverup story for Pre's death is that Satine murdered him. Earlier Pre stated that Satine and her advisors have fled Mandalore. Maul and Almec are not stupid and had time to develop a convincing cover story. That Satine breaking into Sundari palace, getting past all the deathwatch soldiers, and killing Pre was the story they chose meant it had to be believable
Honestly I could write a whole essay on the New Mandolorians and the Mando civil war as whole cause they are wildly different in legands and canon, but the popular fanon for them does them no justice.
#star wars#satine kryze#mandolorian#tcw#new mandalorians#long post#also hey I could be wrong#feel free to reblog
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!
the reason suselle fans are freaking out about the Susie Not Even Noticing Noelle Is There in the newsletter... it's because they're starved for content too!
people have likely emotionally registered the lack of content, but because noelle is enough romance for 20 people and makes any scene she's in feel romantic even when susie is just standing there, and because they like the ship and seem to put a lot of emotional stock in it happening (likely because they identify with it personally which i cannot fault anyone for, even as much as i dont like suselle) they take any scene with noelle and susie in the same room as food!
i've been so fascinated by the discrepancy between the actual newsletter, featuring noelle trying to approach susie to offer a valentines card, but susie not noticing her, and noelle running away the second susie flinches, and the fanart depicting susie nervously blushingly offering her OWN valentine, and the way people take it as food!
i was shocked earlier to see susie's cotton candy sprite from ONE OF THE MOST RALSUSIE SCENES IN THE GAME on a SUSELLE FERRIS WHEEL STIMBOARD.
it's so strange, how can these people act like their ship is a fact of life, totally inevitable, completely canon and susie is a lesbian who loves noelle, and then turn around and use sprite from other people's ship fuel for their stimboard, completely misunderstand susie as a character, and collectively fabricate a version of the newsletter where susie DID notice noelle and had the same romantic feelings as her?
and i can't think of a better reason than this, that suselle fans are just as, if not more starved for content than the rest of us, because there just really isn't a lot of good food for them. 3 unique lines of dialogue and one scene, which they have to keep talking about, keep going over again and again, using sprites from scenes where susie is having fun with ralsei in their stimboards, inventing a version of that scene in their minds where susie was having the time of her life, where the two of them held hands and it was like a scene out of a romcom, hyping up a gif from a newsletter as food which in reality depicts exactly the same non-food dynamic we see them in all the time, where noelle obsesses over susie, and susie fails to notice. this isn't normal ship behavior, is it?!
im not saying suselle definitely isn't going to happen, because it certainly kinda looks like it will, but i am saying that the continuous need to fabricate suselle material in order to maintain the hype combined with the absolute confidence people have in it confuses me, and that when i look at suselle, i see a familiar trope of a main character being obsessed over by a secondary character (i mean secondary not in the sense that noelle isn't important, but in the sense she isn't literally on the screen for 3/4 of the game, and isn't part of the main group of 3) with the main character being totally oblivious.
the need to fabricate material to maintain hype, the overconfidence in it winning the future, and the refusal to see any of the flaws, combined with the way some people harass disbelievers, accusing them of being phobic, reminds me of crypto!
the only explanation i can come up with for the discrepancy is that they are starved for a real win, and are taking anything they can find as food. why they have this crypto-like group, i can't say. i dont know why people put so much stock in this ship. if anyone who likes suselle who read this post wants to tell me why they like the ship, i very much would like to hear it!
even if i might act kind of jerkish sometimes, i really do want to have a legitimate discussion about these things.
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WIP Tag Game
Tagged by @goonflower
Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
Okay so literally my only WIP is trapped between two lungs but I’ll list a few ideas I’ve been thinking about
- trapped between two lungs (duh), I’m almost entirely done with chapter 22 but I’ll hold off on posting for a few days because it’s literally been a day since Ch21
-i’ve been watching Dimension 20 Sophomore Year which is kinda making me think about Ronance fantasy/D&D esque thoughts. High elf Nancy, Pirate Robin maybe, see the vision
-Ednancy siblings. Karen dating bad boy Al and golden child Ted almost back to back, finding out she’s pregnant and choosing the well respected option, never truly knowing for sure if Nancy is his or not. Nancy is too curious for her own good and bam she’s got an older half brother.
-Platonic stancy A Silent Voice. It will Never get written but I’m kinda feral over the idea of (movie spoilers) Steve being Nancys ex bully (canon), turned friend, turned the guy that literally saves her life. But again, never getting written because I don’t know the logistics of it because I’d either have to make Nancy deaf (not against the idea but I am not deaf and don’t know how to approach writing it well) or take away a huge part of the movie, so yeah.
-There was a fic I planned in Aug 22 that had a huge ass lore dump on the Wheelers family tree that I’ve kept in my head ever since, in which Vecna and Nancy are… give me a second… third cousins once removed. It’s like the weakest family connection known to man but you Know Nancy is gonna obsess over it for the rest of her life.
-Post S4 Nancy finds a stray cat, takes it home, Karen makes her take it to a shelter, but Mike convinces her to let Nancy keep it. It’s cute but I’ve never had the motivation to do anything with it.
-Guitarist Nancy but this is PURELY because I am completely feral over the concept of Nancy in Prince’s Purple Rain outfit. The only way this vision could satisfy my brain is with fan art and I suck at drawing
Can’t be bothered to tag anyone so you are all tagged!
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Unexpected Constellations (Part 07)
Rating: Yikes for lots of blood and gore.
Word Count: 5.6K
Warnings: Angst (of course), Canon-level violence, Mentions of blood, Needles, Mention of injury, Foul language, Hurt/comfort, A sprinkle of humour
A/N: What?! She's almost not late?! Unheard of. Anyways sorry guys, I keep extending this slow burn like my life depends on it. But, trust me, we're starting to get somewhere. The love I've been getting on past parts has literally made me so happy; I wish I could explain how all the comments make me feel :) You guys are amazing. Check the masterlist for tags and other parts. If you reblog, I will be more likely to include perhaps a drop of smut in the next part. Please comment on this post or the masterlist to get added to the taglist!
The streets were still quiet when you finally left the artifacts shop. Din went out the door first, angling you behind him.
You would have appreciated the protective gesture, if not for the steady pounding of anxiety that now collected in your temples. The breeze was whispering to you, and it was telling you to run.
You hissed to him from behind his shoulder. “We need to leave. Quickly.”
A nod was the only confirmation he gave in return. It was then that you noticed the silence had become thick and cloying. It buzzed around your ears like a swamp fly.
The two of you treaded lightly across the cobblestones, seeking cover in a darker backstreet. The planet’s moon was bright; it illuminated too much of the main path. You stuck close to the wall, inching across it, approaching the other end of the lane. Once you turned the corner, you would be out in the open, easily identifiable under the brightness of the moon.
Din paused at the edge, back pressed against the wall. You couldn’t get your heart to slow. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. He reached for your wrist as he went to exit the alley. You wondered if he could feel your pulse hammering through the leather.
You both turned the corner.
And beheld what waited for you in the cold moonlight.
He stood in a wide stance in the middle of the roadway, about 20 metres away, hands positioned at his hips. The scarlet of his eyes almost seemed to glow in the dark. He advanced on you both, drawing twin blasters from the holsters at his side and twirling them effortlessly around his flared, green fingers.
Mando was already stepping backwards. “Go.” He commanded you. “Back the way we came.”
You were already turning. A blaster shot sounded, and you heard the telltale ping of it bouncing off Din’s armour. And then he was behind you, ushering you forward with a hand on your back. Once you re-entered the lane, he turned, drawing his own blaster, taking large strides backwards to keep up with you.
You were almost to the end. That meant that you would come out close to the shop and would have to find another way to get out of town and back to the ship. You silently thanked the maker that you had left Grogu behind.
A gasp caught in your throat. Silhouetted against the cold light of the night, the second hunter covered your escape. His skin was bluer than the other, though his eyes were just as red, and he offered you a lipless, crooked smile. You backed away, just a little, bumping into Din as he travelled the opposite way. He cast a fast look over his shoulder, marking the other man, and drew an arm back across your abdomen, holding you to him. A light on his vambrace was beeping red, over and over and over. Finally, it shone green.
The second hunter drew a menacing scimitar, blade glinting slightly. The sharp edge of it was already bloodied.
“I’m really wishing you had brought your jetpack right now.” You mumbled to Din. He was quiet.
The man with the blasters spoke first.
“We hoped we’d cross paths with you, Mandalorian.” His voice was gravelly. His partner’s head tilted in surveyance. Din wasn’t paying attention to the monologue, speaking so softly that only you could hear.
“We each take one. Duros have natural defense mechanisms across the ribs. Don’t aim there.” You hummed in acknowledgement. Duros. So that’s what they were.
The man was still talking. “You know what they’ll call us in the Guild?” He took a step forward. “They’ll call us Mando killers.” He laughed, a terrible gritty sound. “We’ll be legends.”
The male with the blades joined in. “I’ll keep your helmet on my dashboard as a prize.”
And just like that the anxiety ebbed, replace with something much more dangerous.
They were threatening him.
Your vision seemed more focused all of sudden, breathing even. You tilted your head back at Duros with the blade, mimicking his smile. For the first time, he seemed to really take you in.
“Pity about the amateur you brought with you.”
Din’s hand finally left your side. You freed the vibroknife from its sheath. His scimitar was much longer than your blade; you’d have to find a way past his defenses, get into his space.
Your mind went calm. You took in his posture, the gaps in his armour, the deep blue column of his neck. You were no amateur.
He advanced towards you, and you strode to meet him. Wasting no time, he brought the blade in an arc, aiming straight for your throat. You crouched low, hearing it whistle over your head, and slashed at his ankles. A move you had practiced on Din countless times.
It was a shallow cut, but enough for him to hiss in pain.
You could tell Mando had engaged the other bounty hunter. Blaster shots rang out, sharply followed by the ringing sound of his armour. Distantly, you counted the sounds, matched them, making sure none of those shots had landed home.
The hunter in front of you was pissed. His blows were heavy, unforgiving, but they lacked direction. You were able to nimbly sidestep and dodge them, which seemed to only fuel his anger more.
You lulled him into a pattern, relinquishing a step every time he attempted to strike a blow. Only on the fifth iteration did you finally sidestep his advance and move in closer. The knife slash was only millimetres shy of hitting. He jumped back with a curse.
And then it was a parry of blows, dodging blades, throwing punches, sidestepping. You managed to connect your elbow across his face, a short, sharp strike. He spat green blood onto the cobblestones and growled.
You expected the speed at which he surged at you. What you hadn’t expected was his intention. He didn’t aim for your unarmoured body, instead he went directly for your wrist. Those thin fingers curled around it, and you struggled to maintain a grip on the knife.
But when he swung his blade at you again, and you weren’t able to move aside, there was only one way to react. It was a reflex to reach your free hand out. The sword stopped in midair.
He struggled against your force hold before meeting your eyes again. You saw the recognition in the widening of his own red ones. He knew what you were.
You pushed against the blade and it broke free of his grasp, clattering to the floor.
He was close to you, still gripping the hand that brandished the vibroknife. The aftermath of shock was still present in his eyes. Now was your chance.
You brought your knee up and connected with his groin. The hunter doubled over, releasing your hand, and you were quick to move into position behind him.
Using your free arm, you hauled him up against you. The edge of your blade pressed against the pulse in his neck, the weak area you had mapped before the battle had even begun.
One swipe was all it would take. And his life would be over.
You put more pressure on the knife, a bead of green blood starting to dribble down. He didn’t dare move.
Part of you was chanting at the carnage. But another, more insistent part reminded you of the way you had felt in that alley back on Tatooine. The shame you had endured from the way you had toyed with that Weequay. When you had told yourself that you would do better, be better.
Could you take this male’s life? Should you?
Yes. He had threated you. Threatened the man you—
As the conflicting sides of your mind warred, you were unaware of the way the hunter’s hands travelled across the rough ground, reaching desperately. By the time his fingers curled around the hilt, it was too late.
He brought the scimitar down behind him, slashing across your thigh. You might have screamed.
It was deep. You could tell from the pain, from the river of blood that now cascaded down your leg.
Your hold on him had loosened, and he was rising, so fast. There was nothing you could do.
And then a blaster bolt left a singeing hole in the side of his bulbous head.
He dropped like a stone.
You whirled on the source, swimming vision making out a familiar face running up the moonlit street. Castann.
Now you understood the blinking light on Din’s arm.
He had been signalling for backup.
Just as he reached you, you stumbled. He was saying something to you, but it was warped, buried under the numbness in your head. You fought through the fog.
“Why didn’t you just kriffing kill him?” He was taking in the wound on your leg, dark skin uncharacteristically grey.
You were too tired to respond to him. Never in your life had the urge been so strong, to simply curl up on the cot in the Razor Crest and go to sleep. You were so tired.
Orange leather gripped your chin, and then he was there. Over his shoulder, you could just barely make out the green hunter, face down on the floor, the wound in his back gaping and burnt. “Look at me.” You could feel the worry rolling off him in waves.
“I’m okay.” You choked out. Well, that was a kriffing lie.
He didn’t respond, simply turned to Castann. “Can you help me get her to the ship?”
“Course, man.” And then you were propped between the two of them, half stumbling, half being dragged out of the back street, through the eerily quiet winding roads, out of the town.
You blacked out at least five times.
Din left you in the hull, having roughly tied a tourniquet around your upper thigh before going to pilot the ship. As the ship’s ramp closed, you were distantly aware of Castann yelling: “Please don’t get yourselves killed!” You wished you could thank him.
Adrenaline alone propelled you up the ladder into the cockpit.
You were just barely aware of the fact that you were dripping blood on the floor. You used the back of Din’s seat as a support, leaning the bulk of your weight on it. Stars were beginning to swim in your vision, and you could feel the edges of your consciousness blurring out.
He swore quietly but didn’t tell you to get out.
He skipped the entire pre-flight check, blasting the engines on full to heat them, and retracting the landing gear immediately. If any other hunters knew he was on-world, you needed to get out of there as soon as possible.
You only made it 70,000 feet into the sky before a glossy fighter pulled up alongside you.
“Dank farrik.” Mando didn’t turn his head to the side. A transmission request beeped on the dashboard. He didn’t bother to answer it.
“I’m going to try and lose them in the cloud bank.”
Without further warning, Mando took the Crest in an arcing sweep, plummeting down towards Rishi’s lower atmosphere until you were buried in the cotton white. He leveled out sharply, and your knuckles blanched on the back of his chair, straining with the effort of keeping you upright.
You flew like that for a few moments, gaining speed. Hopefully, you’d come out of the bank far enough away from them that they wouldn’t see the ship making for the hyperspace lane until it was too late.
And then you were shooting up, so fast it whipped the breath from your lungs. Laser fire zipped past the ship on both sides.
“Shit.” Mando cursed. You broke the upper level of the atmosphere.
You groaned. “They’re gaining on us too fast. We won’t make it into hyperspace.”
“Yes, we kriffing will.” He snarled.
The ship shot forward, out of the atmosphere and into the stars.
Another barrage of red shot past the left flank and the ship juddered. “We’re hit.” There was still no hint of panic in his voice. But even through the haze of pain, you were logical. The hunters’ craft was faster than the Razor Crest, and maneuvered easier. They would catch up to you… no matter how much fancy flying you tried. The only thing you had on your side was firepower, and you were in no fit state to man the turret. But—
“Din, I have an idea.” The stars in your vision had turned to black dots, and you knew you didn’t have long before you fell. “I need you to get us facing them. I have to see their ship.” He didn’t ask for elaboration, didn’t need it. You were a team, and he trusted you wholeheartedly.
“Okay.” He picked up speed again, and aggressively banked left, cutting the thrusters at the very last moment. The Crest slowed and spun, coming face-to-face with the hunter’s craft, now careening towards you.
You closed your eyes and breathed.
You could feel the speed of it, the energy it spent, hurtling towards you.
Din spoke your name in a low tone. A warning.
“Not yet.” Still, you reached out with the force.
Their ship was sleek, aerodynamic. But there was one flaw on the exoskeleton, and you could sense the way it dragged through the nothingness of space.
A fuel tank, the cover just slightly ajar.
He repeated your name, more insistent this time.
Your head angled slightly and, even with your eyes closed, a surge of final confidence rushed through you.
“Almost.” you breathed.
It was always easier to use your hands. You lifted your left from where it had gripped Din’s chair, flexing it once.
You tested the cover, tugging lightly with a jerk of your finger. It buckled.
You didn’t hold back on the final force pull, sighing in relief the moment you felt the cover give way, a stream of fuel floating out.
“Now.”
He knew what you meant.
You heard the familiar sound of the Crest’s front guns, felt the slight recoil, and opened your eyes just in time to see the beautiful craft burst into flames. The engines ignited again, and you dipped low, narrowly avoiding the debris.
The yellow of the explosion faded to a rich, burnt orange. It was the last thing you saw before you were engulfed by darkness.
He set the coordinates for Tatooine in record time and launched the ship into hyperspace.
Din spun in the pilot’s seat, collapsing onto the ground and cradling you to him.
Your face was so pale, and you were still as death. No eyelashes fluttering, no fingers twitching, he couldn’t even see the rise and fall of your chest.
His heart skipped a beat.
No.
No, you couldn’t be dead. If you were he’d…
He’d go out of his mind.
He tore the gloves off, reaching for your wrist, desperately trying to find the pulse that beat there. It was so faint, he wondered if he had felt it at all.
You wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t let it happen.
The helmet released with a hiss, and he pulled it off with haste, throwing the damn thing to the side.
Ear to your chest, he listened, while his own heart alternated between beating uncontrollably and stopping completely.
Yours, although dangerously quiet, kept a steady rhythm.
He nearly wept in relief, allowing himself to slump against you for just a moment. And then, inhaling sharply, he let memory guide him. The process went by in flashes, as if his mind knew he would not like to remember it.
Din was briefly glad for your unconsciousness as he liberally poured disinfectant onto the wound. The tourniquet had helped slow the bleeding a bit, but there was so much that it had caked the leg of your pants. He would have to cut them off.
He did so with painstaking care. His distress was so strong that he barely perceived the bare skin, the parts of your body that he had never seen before.
The slash was too wide for the cauterizer to work; he would have to use stitches.
He was shaking; his entire body trembled, and he knew there was only one thing in his power that could get it to stop.
He did not have gentle hands, and he cursed the roughness of his work as he drew the needle through your skin, again and again and again.
Only when he had tied off the end did he allow himself a moment to breathe. He ran a hand over his head.
There was blood in his hair now, and he would worry about it later.
Your own bleeding had finally stopped, and he wiped the crusted excess off as best he could.
Finally, rising on weak legs, he moved back into the hull, punching in the code to open the weapons cabinet. To the left was a stash of drip bags, used for blood loss and rehydration. He only hoped you hadn’t lost too much.
Donning the jetpack, he used it once more to carry you from the cockpit. Once he had lain you on the cot, he went back up for his helmet, begrudgingly sliding it over his head once more.
He carefully disinfected the area of your arm, used the thermal mode on the visor to find a vein, and hooked up the IV bag, placing it atop Grogu’s hammock.
Grogu. Throughout all of this, he had forgotten to check on the kid.
The lid to the cradle had remained closed, and that was probably a good thing. Din wouldn’t have wanted him to witness what had just happened. But as he pressed the button to release the lock and the cover slid back, he knew the child had felt everything.
His wide eyes were open and lined with silver. But he didn’t cry, not as he lifted both arms towards his father. Din scooped him up, pressing him to his chest, already feeling the tightness in his limbs start to ease.
“She’s going to be okay, kid.” He squeaked once, seeking purchase on Din’s breastplate to look at you over his shoulder.
He brought the child to you, carefully setting him down and shifting the IV tube so he wouldn’t get tangled in it. He wasted no time curling up under your arm.
Every few moments you would tremble violently, likely from shock and blood loss. Grogu pressed a clawed hand to your stomach and squeezed his eyes shut. Finally, you stilled.
Din simply stood and watched the two of you for a moment. Something in his chest felt swollen to the point of bursting. He brushed a hand over your forehead. You were clammy but cold.
He pulled an extra blanket from one of the supply crates, and pulled both up to your chest, coming to rest just underneath Grogu’s chin. And then his work was done.
He was exhausted and shaky but refused to leave your side. With whatever remaining energy he had left, he dragged another crate over to the sleeping nook and collapsed onto it, letting his head hit the wall of the weapons cabinet with a thunk. Within seconds, he was unconscious.
There is no floor beneath you. No ceiling above you. No walls. No light.
Your body feels weightless, as if you are submerged in water. Each slight move is delayed yet repetitive.
There is a ruby glow ahead, so far away.
It is but a speck in the vast darkness of this dreamscape.
You move towards it, not entirely of your own accord. It pulls you like a magnet.
All the while, it sings to you in a lilting voice.
I call to you because you bleed, like me.
I call to you because you are dark, like me
I call to you because you are corrupted, like me.
You are close enough to see it now.
If you reach out, you could touch it.
Faint fissures spiderweb across its surface and it glows and fades, as if it were breathing.
A tether inside you twitches, and the crystal flares in response.
I call to you.
Will you listen?
Will you hear me?
Your words are stuck in your throat. Your tongue is too heavy for your mouth.
Is this who you are?
Is this what you are?
It continues to ask you it’s question. The words start to blend together…
Will you hear me? Will you hear me? Will you hear me? Will you hear me? You will hear me. You will hear me. You will hear me. You will hear me.
You shot up from the bed, drawing gasping breaths into your lungs. A hand presses against your chest and eases you back.
“Steady. Take it slow.” His voice was stable, grounding. Your body responded to it immediately and you fell, rather ungracefully, back into lying position. A stack of pillows broke your descent.
You took inventory of your surroundings. Din, crouched at the edge of your bed. Grogu, in his arms, straining to be let go so he could crawl to your side. A bandage on the inside of your elbow; you prodded at it curiously.
You were almost scared to look under the blankets. You could wiggle your toes, so that must be positive. But you recalled the trauma of the injury, the sheer quantity of blood that had flown down your leg, the pain of it.
But it had reduced to a dull ache, and the fog in your head had cleared. You felt weary, but alert.
“How are you feeling?” Maker, he sounded like he had been dragged around behind a Mudhorn again.
“Alive.” Your own voice was croaky. “How about you?”
“Tired.” He admitted. You wondered if he had gotten any sleep while you were unconscious. And you realized you weren’t quite sure how long that had been.
You voiced your concern. “How long have I been out?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, instead putting the kid down and toying around with the edge of his glove. “Din?” you prompted him.
He took a deep breath. “About ten hours.” He didn’t sound nearly as panicked as you felt.
You pushed up from the pillows with haste. “What?”
He rose up, trying to lower you back down again, but you swatted his hand away.
“The Twi’lek said we only had 50 hours until the auction.” You were on the verge of panicking, sliding out of the blankets and to the edge of the bed. “We have to come up with a plan. We—”
“Hey.” He knelt before you, arms braced on either edge of the alcove, blocking your escape. “I don’t need you passing out on me again. So please, for the love of—” He sighed loudly. “Just take it slow.”
Of course, you obeyed.
There was crusted blood on the edge of his helmet. Without thinking, you reached out to wipe it away with your thumb. He leaned, almost imperceptibly into your touch, as if he could really feel it.
And then he returned the gesture, brushing his gloved hand over your leg. Over the bandage neatly wrapped around it. Your attention turned to it as well, and you let out a sound of surprise.
“What?” he asked.
You shook your head. “Nothing. You just… You did a really good job.” Your eyes returned to the visor. He was silent, but you could tell he was taking you in, probably using whatever gadgets he had in that helmet to monitor your vitals.
“Thank you.” You weren’t sure what else to say.
He dropped his other hand from the wall of the cot. “You’re welcome.”
And then he was standing and turning, making his way towards the flight deck. He called behind him: “And don’t worry, I’ve already figured out a plan.”
“Wait, really?” You stood slowly, testing out the strength of your leg. It was surprisingly stable. You followed him, approaching the ladder. That would be a challenge.
It was then that you beheld the light leaking out of the cockpit. Real light, daylight. “Din, where are we?”
He had made it to the upper level when he replied: “Tatooine.”
“Again?”
“Well, we took bad damage to the ship; it needed fixing.” You gingerly put your injured leg on the first rung of the ladder, using your upper body to heft yourself up. “That, and the plan requires a babysitter.”
By the time you made it to the top, you were out of breath, collapsing into the jump seat to his right. “All right, let’s hear it then.”
“Din Djarin, that is the absolute worst plan I have ever heard.”
He makes a frustrated noise and slaps the datapad down on his lap. “Well do you have any better ideas?”
“Uh, yeah?”
It was absolutely absurd. He had put a lot of weight on the ability to remain unnoticed which was completely understandable. There would be so many people there who might recognize him, and it would be no good to have to fight off every hunter you came across while still trying to acquire the bounty.
His solution? Park illegally on the beach and access the casino through the underground waterways. That meant oxygen mouthpieces, cutting through grates, squeezing into narrow piping systems, and coming out through the fountain in the middle of the casino lobby.
“You do realize we’d be soaking wet, right?” you ask. He groans. “Dripping seawater onto the floor of one of the galaxy’s finest casinos is definitely a way to not get noticed.” There was still the matter of finding the crystal once you made it into the building, though you had a feeling that wouldn’t be the hard part.
You hadn’t told him about your dream, or about what you thought it meant. The fact that the crystal might call to you, that you might be able to sense it, because you were the same. Dark, corrupt, evil.
He throws his hands up in defeat. “Okay, fine. What’s your alternative?”
You leaned forward in your chair. “The most important part is that we don’t get recognized until it’s time to retrieve the bounty, right?”
“Right.” He sounded hesitant.
“So, you’re the only one of us that’s flashy and easily identifiable. If I went in on my own—”
He was already shaking his head. “No. We stick together.”
“Just hear me out you swamp rat.” He made an exasperated noise but motioned for you to continue.
“We split up here and I take a public transport over. I look like a tourist, no one’s going to recognize me. I’ll take a day to establish a bit of a cover, get prepped and on the night of the auction, I’ll go in as a guest.” He had turned his head up to the sky, arms crossed over his chest.
“You come in on the Crest, land somewhere quiet and stay hidden when you come into town. Stick to the rooftops.” You reached a hand out to him. “Give me the datapad for a second.”
He obliged, and you pulled up the basic blueprints he was referring to earlier.
“Here.” You pointed to the plans, just above the casino’s main room. He angled his helmet down to look. “There’s a skylight. There’ll probably be some sort of security, a guard or a laser grid or something. That’s your job.”
You pulled the datapad back. “You wait there, that way you can still see me, and once I secure the crystal, you can get me out.”
He looked to you and you could have sworn that you could see the dubious expression beneath the helmet. “I’m the extraction plan?”
You nodded.
“How are you even going to find the crystal.” Ah there he was, asking all the right questions.
“That’s my job, leave it to me. You are simply in charge of the extracting.”
He seemed to be considering it for a moment. You watched him expectantly.
Finally, he spoke. “I’m not going to consider it.”
He was out of his seat and descending from the cockpit before you could retort. Your mouth hung open in disbelief. No way were you letting this go.
You moved quickly and hopped down from the top rung of the ladder, pursuing him. A blast of pain reverberated through your thigh from the impact, but you barely felt it. He whirled on you.
You took three long strides toward him and jabbed him in the chest with your pointer finger twice for emphasis. “How many times do I have to knock you on your ass before you accept that I can handle myself?” You voice was curt and slightly aggressive.
He looked down sharply, letting out a frustrated “Dank farrik.” You followed his line of sight.
Deep red was blossoming across the bandage at your thigh. You must have strained your stiches when you jumped. But you wouldn’t let him change the subject.
“It’s fine.” You growled. Maker, he vexed you sometimes.
“No, it’s not fine.” His tone was just as brusque and he pushed firmly on your shoulder, backing you up until your calves hit the edge on the bunk. “Sit.” There was no room for argument. Reluctantly you obeyed, collapsing with a huff. You rolled your eyes.
He went back up to the flight deck to retrieve the medkit and you sat there, lips pressed into a thin line, nails digging into your palm.
You didn’t try to hide the annoyance in your eyes, even as he advanced on you again. But you could never stay upset with him for long, especially not as he placed the kit on the ground and knelt before you, removing his gloves.
Despite the heat of the argument, his hands were gentle as he reached for the corner of the wrap, slowly unwinding it. You stared him down, but he remained diligently fixated on the wound. As he finally uncovered it, a drop of blood trickled down the edge of your inner thigh, leaving a scarlet trail. He swept it up with his finger.
“You need to more careful.” The ire from earlier was gone. He reached into the kit to pull out sanitary wipe and a fresh fold of gauze.
You scoffed. “Says you? How many times have I done this for you?”
He ripped open the package of the wipe, sighing softly. “A lot.”
You wore a very smug expression on your face and tried not to let it falter when he snaked one hand around the underside of your leg, cradling it. “This is going to sting a bit.”
“It’s fine.” He pressed the cloth to the bloodied gash, wiping in slow, steady motions. You bit down on your lip to keep from hissing.
Through the waves of pain, you voiced a fleeting thought. “You know Grogu could have just healed it, right?”
“He was sleeping. I didn’t want to wake him.” Din was such a beautiful liar. You chose not to call him on it, instead letting him return to his work.
He cleaned up the excess blood with gentle efficiency, sporadically lifting the helmet to check your expression. You met his stare each time. Only when he pressed the fresh gauze onto the wound did you finally break the silence.
“I can do this, you know. It’ll work.” He sat back onto his heels, pressing a hand to the top of his helmet, as if he wanted to run his fingers through his hair.
“I know you can, I just..” He paused.
“What?”
He paused for a long moment. And then, very softly, he explained.
“You were right behind me in that alley on Rishi.” Your eyes instantly softened. “Right behind me… and still I wasn’t fast enough to get to you.” He picked up the wrap and toyed around with it.
You bit your lip. “That wasn’t your fault.”
He nodded as if he understood. But you knew he still blamed himself.
“I can’t… I can’t be so far away and not know if you’re safe, not be able to protect you.”
You took the wrap from his fidgeting hands. “I won’t be in danger until I get into that casino, and by then… I know you’ll be up there. I know you’ll have my back.” He nodded again.
“I trust you.” You could practically feel the weight of his gaze through the helmet. If only you could read his features, try to make sense of the maelstrom of emotions you kept sensing from him. “But I need you to trust me too.”
He took the wrap back from you, setting the edge along your inner thigh and pulling it down and around your leg, securing the clean gauze in place. I was then that you finally noticed your lack of clothing. You were still in the oversized undershirt you had worn on Rishi, but your pants were gone, leaving you in only a pair of undershorts. The hem of your shirt came to just above the bandage.
You also noticed how dutifully fixated he was on the task at hand, as if he was trying to keep himself from thinking of the exact same thing.
The air was thick and quiet as he secured the clasp on the wrap. He let his hands linger a moment too long. You knew there were goosebumps on your legs. You hoped he thought you were just cold.
In an attempt to break the silence, you offered: “After this is over, we can go sip tea on some ridiculously expensive vacation planet… surrounded by piles of credits. Okay?”
He chuckled. “Okay.”
Truthfully you didn’t care about the credits. Unbeknownst to you, he didn’t give a damn about them either.
There was something much more valuable right here.
And you wouldn’t be able to tiptoe around it for much longer.
Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @aavengingbucky @prismaticpizza @blub-senpai @a-phan-of-youtube @jaguarthecat @lizajane3 @come-hell-or-eldren-fire
#star wars#the mandalorian#sw the mandalorian#din djarin#sw fanfic#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin x you#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal#din djarin x reader#din djarin imagine#din djarin blurb#din djarin angst#din djarin fluff#din djarin series#din djarin drabble#din djarin x female reader#din djarin headcanon#the mandalorian fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#my fic#jreadswrites#unexpected constellations
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Kicking my feet and twirling my hair, I'm gonna ramble about my spider sona's because they are rattling in my brain and I love them to bits >:)
Uh
Also just saying, I compiled a fuck ton of images of them into shitty collages because I have no motivation to make perfect reference sheets of them. Shitty collages too BC I did it on my phone and can't do graphic design for the life of me :')
ANYWAYS ONTO THE RAMBLE (under the cut for those who literally don't care and wanna scroll past LOL)
Funnelweb also known as Shadow Spider or Aaron Watson
A 20 year old trans demi-boy lad who had the Miles Morales treatment and was bitten by accident by an other-worldly spider.
~~~
When he was younger, Aaron was close with his sister. She was all that he had after their parents had died, and even though they had Aunt May and Uncle Ben, Aaron wasn't close with the two. He stuck by his sister through thick and thin until the day that'd change his life forever.
One fateful evening, he had lost his sister when they were caught between the Spiderman of Aaron's world fighting one of his usual enemies. Grief stricken, Aaron held malice and resentment toward Spiderman and felt utterly cursed when he got the Miles Morales treatment and was bitten by accident by another spider from another world.
With this new found power, Aaron took it upon himself to be a counterpart to Spiderman, titling himself Funnelweb to differentiate himself from the man he despised.
He became basically Batman to Spiderman's Superman.
~~~
Facts and little extra info
- Funnelwebs main power is electricity. It causes him to be much quicker then Spiderman and sometimes it trails behind him.
If channeled properly, he can use it as a weapon, but it takes alot of focus and patience.
- He uses a skateboard to help him get around and fight!
I had the idea of a skateboard because of a character named Beat from The Wold Ends With You using a skateboard both for battle in the first game, and to get around quickly in the second >:3
- He doesn't have natural webs, so he has custom web slingers built into his spiked wristbands.
- Everything in Funnelwebs world is Punk/Emo. Even the enemies lol and even Spiderman. I should really design him.
-Even though I put his face in the collage, in Funnelwebs world, only blues and reds are highlighted, and he's always obscured in shadow.
He does look like the portrait when in other worlds.
- It's not clear what year Funnelweb is supposed to be in, but it is a hybrid of 2000's with futuristic elements but still feels incredibly grunge and punk/emo.
- Technically Funnelweb, if we count Miguel's canon event thing, is his world's "MJ", however he changed his name after coming out and doesn't believe in the fate that usual MJ's succumb to.
However, he can't help but wonder if loosing his sister and becoming a second Spiderman was the canon event he dreaded, being intertwined with Spiderman's fate even though not romantically involved.
~~~
Retro-Spider also known as Peter Parker or Lachlan Parker.
A 20 year old arts major who was bitten by a spider of unknown origins. He is his world's one and only Spiderman.
~~~
Peter- preferring Lachlan- hadn't been Spiderman for very long before things took a turn for the worst.
His worlds Uncle Ben, rather Uncle Lachlan, died mysteriously and suddenly, leaving Peter in immense grief.
When Peter joined the spider society, he adopted the name Lachlan, both to pay respects to his uncle and to differentiate himself from all the other Peters as he felt intense imposter syndrome when he talked to every Peter.
Eventually, Lachlan gained a watch to traverse world's and had the time of his life just pushing random buttons and jumping through portals to see what was on the other side, but he knew the next world he'd jump into was important because that's when he met Aaron.
~~~
Facts and little extra info
- Lachy was originally gonna have a blue, red and white suit but he looked too much like Pepsi man 💀 The portrait with the turtleneck was the only thing to survive from that original concept.
- His world is coloured like retro anime. I'm not good at all at drawing old anime but imagine everything is anime-esc and the world around him looks like what you'd see on Pinterest if you searched up like, retro anime city.
- His world is basically the 80's.
- His powers are pretty basic, however, he has organic webs!!! His webs are like layers of extremely thin webs joined together and give his webbing a shimmer and holographic effect.
- His suit is holographic >:3
- Later down the line, Lachy becomes intertwined with a Symbiote. The lore is still a Wip.
- Lachy's own world MJ is like a best friend to him. He has no romantic feelings whatsoever.
- He is Pan! However, he keeps it a secret because the 80's were relentless if you weren't in a heteronormative ideal, and he already got bullied for his love of art :')
- His walkman is his baby. It was a gift from his uncle and he never goes anywhere without it (Star lord style babyyy)
#spidersona#spider sona#spider sona's#spiderman#ocs#oc#spiderverse oc#my art#random thoughts...#I just had to ramble i literally love them to bits#oc art
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