#like I don’t need canon buddie but I do need them keeping up the intensity of their love for each other that’s been established thus far | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hangezoeenthusiast · 3 years

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God(hcs)

c!multiple x god!reader

notes: the reader will be the god of death to make it a little bit more spicy :). c!punz’s pronouns are he/they, i’m not sure about the others, but i know theirs. also why does ranboo take away my gender? /j

word count: 1,672

warnings: arson, violence, cursing, yelling, mention of death, voices in technos part, spoilers for wilbur if you haven’t watch tommy’s lore stream, revival for wilbur, making a religion, time travel, egg, prison, stealing, anarchy, playful name calling

Sapnap

so obviously y’all would be a great match :)

you have creative mode, so when sap would ask you to give him a lighter and tnt, you would GLADLY give it

also, can we talk about him being a nether hybrid

fire squared

like fires left and right, hide your mom and your children in your house lol /j

but besides the whole arson thing, you favor him above anyone else on the server

like if he asks for diamond blocks, well here’s a whole inventory of it, also, here’s some ancient debris and some netherite

if someone asked, you would probably grant them with poison and curses, just because you can’t be “unloyal” to snapchat

wouldn’t be lonely anymore

Dreamwastaken

this duo is less chaotic, but chaotic enough where people avoid you

he still asks you for stuff, but most of the time, you don’t give him it because he annoys you too much about giving stuff

“hey y/n/n, can i pretty please get some emerald blocks.”

“nope bitch, get it yourself.”

but sometimes, you grant him some op shit, when it’s your good day

“because i’m being nice, here’s some diamond, now, don’t ask me again you little piss baby.”

“shut your trap y/n.”

“or what homeless teletubby, what are you going to do to a god like me?”

“you hang out with technoblade to much.”

Georgenotfound

maybe the least chaotic duo

you guys keep on relaxing and relaxing until the point where you don’t do anything

he barely asks you for anything, but only when it’s really really important, like a house or build

especially when he was building his little cottagecore house, he needed your godly presence to help

“y/n, what should the roof be made of?”

“i suggest brick, it makes it more aestheticy if that makes any sense.”

also barely any drama or tea with you guys

never arguing and never betraying each other is a must

Tubbo

also another least chaotic duo

literally help him with his bee farm, he will (platonically) love you forever

gotta be close to ranboo, that’s the rule

gives him SO much stuff, he’s a precious boi 🙄

also gotta be close to tommy, but not as much unfortunately

you help him pick out things for builds, like what material clashes with another, etc

“do you think that the wool and the netherite blocks look good together y/n?”

“nah, what i suggest is the wool with the gold, it looks perfect.”

sometiems, gotta put him in check because he gets a little ego built up

you definitely yank his horn a little too hard because of your IMMENSE STRENGTH

“OW, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT Y/N.”

“calm down sunny, you were just getting a bit over your head a little.”

Tommyinnit

chaotic duo like sapnap

snaps at anyone who annoys you and vice versa

you give him EVERYTHING, obviously except op and creative

he tries to persuade you to do something, but dreamxd wouldn’t allow it, since he is the main boss

“come on y/n, give me op.”

“no tommy, xd will kick my ass.”

“pweaseee.”

“no.”

you would DEFINITELY help him with the Big Innit Hotel, making the whole layout and color palette.

both of you have an intense hatred for ranboo, since he “stole” tubbo away from tommy

Ranboo

least involved in everything

just stay in the tundra and drink some tea, and you’re good for all of your life

helps him get netherite all the time so your boii can get the good stuff 😬

when he mines to get diamonds, he literally prays to you

“y/n, if you’re listening, please give me a 6 vein, i desperately need it for my collection of diamond blocks.”

and THERE IT IS

more than a 6 vein actually, a 12 vein

guess he needs to pray to you more

daily tea sessions, to talk about the good stuff, and NO, and i repeat NO skipping

threatening to flick water on him check ✅

Wilbur Soot

literally you spoil him

not to be angsty, but when he died and lost his last canon life, you revived him instead of Dream

now he’s practically at your knees

like he’s thinks that he owes you, but actually that’s the opposite

he was revived because you were lonely, and wanted your best friend back :(

prays to you when he goes to bed

“hey y/n, hope you’re having a great day, (platonically) love you.”

“love you too mortal.”

sometimes, to be at the peak of godness, you shower upon wilbur as gold to symbolize blessings, like zeus did before

“omg y/n, what are you doing?”

“i’m trying to bless you, shut up bitch.”

just saying, he would make a religion about you :/

Karl Jacobs

omg don’t get me started on this

first, you wouldn’t codone him going back in time

he would definitely forget your name a lot, so that’s why you hated it

“hey karl, how are you doing?”

“i’m sorry, but do i know you?”

ANGST IS TOO MUCH FOR ME

you were definitely the one to push him towards sapnap and quackity

this is also another spoiled boi

give him the entire world while you’re at it pwease

he wants a few diamonds, nope, give him a chest full of them

Quackity

why are there so much chaotic duos in here?

literally chaos times infinity

energy to the max

literally, did you take an energy drink

grants him every wish he can randomly think off

“can i get a bucket with lava and a fish in it?”

“weird choice, but ok man.”

gotta be close to sap and karl or he isn’t your friend anymore /j

helps with las nevadas a lot, and definitely tries to rig the machines so you get money

“hey big q, i got 10,000 dollars.”

“that’s impossible... y/n, did you cheat?”

“nooo 😊”

help him preen his wings, and he goes “I LOVE YOU, MWAH MWAH.” obviously in his mind 🙄

Awesamdude

definitely helps him maintain the prison

you both love setting up red stone contraptions and pistons and all that giz

“hey sam, do you know where the redstone torches are?”

“yeah, there behind the pistons in the back.”

also you helped build the prison, since he could do that by himself

“are you sure that lava wall will work y/n, your calculations seem inaccurate.”

“i’m sure sam, this will add some more security to this goddamn server.”

nerd squared lol

BadBoyHalo

wouldn’t condone the egg

you warned him multiple times to get away from its grasp, but most of the times he’ll decline

“i won’t y/n, the egg is the future.”

he still, even after all the advancements, even after everything, he tries to ask you to join the eggpire

“come on y/n, you’ll like being with us.”

“i don’t wanna be on a stupid egg side, like let me crack the egg, i wanna eat it and turn it into a omelette.”

he doesn’t like that joke :(

but before he discovered the egg, both of you were joint at the hip

sight seeing was a must

languages being thrown around everywhere, since you were the little language muffin

Punz

steals stuff from everyone

hide your stuff, because the punzo-y/n team is unstoppable

definitely they can be really stubborn and indecisive

like one day, he will be like, “i need gold blocks.” and the next, “nevermind, i need netherite actually.”

like hon, stop switching

also anarchy buddies

burning down forests and buildings are your guys’s specialty

when you give him gold when they doesn’t ask, his heart goes brrr and his brain goes, “pog pog, they’re so cool, lets hug them.”

Technoblade

now this is the most deadly duo in the entire Dream Smp

better not piss you guys off 😐

he’s the Blood God, and you’re the God/Goddess/God being of Death

so if some occasion where you need to battle someone, like Techno’s enemies, *clears throat and murmurs Quackity*, you will obviously back your boy up :)

help him with enchanting and potions and he’s set for life

also you got have to be close to the great Philza Minecraft since him and Techno are buddy buddy

anarchy squared

helps with the voices since you have some of your own

“so what you’re saying is that i need to pay attention to them?”

“yeah, when i first learned that the voices were in my head, i tried to ignore them, but that sucked. so what i did was try to distract myself with various tasks, and that sucked.”

“so what do i do, you’re saying that i should listen to them, but how do i do that when they literally shout at me.”

“just embrace it, obviously when they do their little chant of blood for the blood god, you have to ignore them.”

“you suck at advice.”

Philza Minecraft

so since both of you resemble death, him being the Angel of Death and you being the God/Goddess/God being of Death, y’all are fucking best friends, platonic soulmates if you will

death squared

watch out, because if you piss them off, prepare to d-

gotta be close to Ranboo and Techno, and obviously others who he platonically likes

he doesn’t need to ask you for stuff, he’s the fricking Angel of Death, but he will ask you to preen his wings :D

“ow, not there y/n.”

“oh shut up grandpa, let me do it.”

“I’M NOT OLD DUMBASS.”

Dream XD

two gods at once, damn there is so much chaos

left and right, you guys are noticed by everyone, like purrrr

y’all would be in some fancy shit, to show your power

you would get jealous of him hanging out with george

“why are you jealous y/n?”

“you’re hanging out with george to much, hang out with me please :(.”

gifts are a must, even though both of you have access to creative

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matan4il · 2 years

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Let me preface this. I'm a life long shipper but I always stay away from "canon straight" characters because I saw what happened with OUAT and Supergirl. Like I reconize the signs you know. So I just wanted to scream into the void about these latest interviews (who by the way I dont believe) but I'm insulted by them. And heres why...

Of course I silently shipped Eddie and Buck because how could you not. But I was like they arent gonna go there dont waste your time on tumblr. And honestly when I would watch the show every freaking nod they gave I would roll my eyes. I even told my husband so many times it's rediculous these writers are baiting the shippers in ways I haven't seen before. It's mean. I didnt even come here till after Eddie dumped Ana and Buck and Taylor are so clearly a dumpster fire because I literally was like wait there is a chance.

So for them now to come out and pretend they haven't created this is gaslighting in the highest form. They made conscious decisions at every turn to promote them while simultaneously also not giving them female LIs.

Like 2 seasons ago that family dinner scene is something I would have been like awww at. 2 best bros having dinner with one of their girls. I can acknowledge bro besties without shipping, see Scrubs and TWD. But you did that dinner now, in an epsiode where you make Buck a cheater. Now I actually sympathize with Taylor.

Again I don't put a lot of stock into what they said I just find it highly insulting and gaslighting to the extreme that they would be so flippant to the shippers they fed for 4 seasons.

Hi Nonnie! Thank you for the ask!

TBH, I always believed they knew what they were doing since the moment they chose to make Eddie’s introduction all about Buck, and more than that, they made it all about Buck being overwhelmed by how fantastic (even physically) Eddie is (which Tim referred to in a recent interview as one of the reasons why Buddie has shippers). But let’s for the sake of argument say they didn’t intend to set up a subtextual slow burn and only later on realized that’s how some viewers saw it. In 210, Tim said the elf lady scene was a nod at Buddie fans. That means by that point, they were aware of the shipping. If it had been an “accidental” creation of shipping fodder, they could have change course at this point and make Buddie more like Chim and Eli. Instead, they chose to just keep making their bond deeper and more intense, intimate and meaningful. So yeah, I’m not buying that they aren’t aware of the romantic undertones between Buddie. But then, I never really believe TV showrunners. I’ve been burned one too many times, so I know what they say is more like what they think they need to say. But Buddie has already given me a lot of joy, shipping them and getting what we have so far, and I also believe the showrunners can choose bravery and making 911 into an actual TV historical moment by allowing Buddie to go canon. Even if they’re not there right now, they can get there before the show ends its run. So I’m hopeful that they will! And if they do, I really don’t expect them to talk about it in interviews ahead of time, you know?

Thank you again, I hope you found my reply helpful and that you’re having a great day! xoxox

(HEY, if it takes me a moment to reply to an ask, it's 'coz I'm juggling work overload and medical stuff. If I got it, I will reply to it! You can always check my ask tag. Thank you for understanding! xoxox)

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #911 #ask #anon ask #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 3 years

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Love of My Life

It was then Katara’s turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

After the final battle, Katara and Aang reunite.

(Written for Day 3 of Kataang Week 2021: Missing Scenes/Post-Canon, hosted by @kataang-week. Read here on AO3, or continue reading below.)

Azula was taken away at some point, maybe by the Fire Sages, but her bloodcurdling screams and broken sobs were hardly a pinprick at the back of Katara’s mind as she kept her attention trained to the lightning wound blasted across Zuko’s solar plexus. Her hands glowed with the water she was continuously pulling from the now-burst piping system in the courtyard around them. She had no enhanced spirit water as with Aang, but fortunately Zuko’s injury was less severe and—thanks to her quick defeat of Azula—no longer life-threatening.

Zuko winced, and guilt flashed through Katara’s stomach for silently dismissing his pain. “Sorry.” She moved the water further upward on his chest, over a spot where the skin was more blistered. “Better?”

A low hiss escaped Zuko’s lips as the cool liquid skimmed the wound, and he managed a weak nod. “Thanks.” His voice was raspier than usual. To be expected. “For this, and for… and for stopping Azula.”

The urge to laugh rose in Katara’s throat, which she immediately suppressed because Tui and La, what was wrong with her? How was now an appropriate time for laughter? “Well, you’re welcome,” she said instead, giving him a weary smile, “but next time, how about you don’t taunt her about the lack of lightning, hmm?”

Zuko grimaced, and Katara knew that particular reaction had nothing to do with the wound across his chest. “Let’s just hope there will never be a next time.”

Katara couldn’t argue with that.

The following minutes were quiet as Katara slowly moved the water up, down, and around Zuko’s injury, her hands themselves hovering less than an inch above his chest. While she knew it was only a figment of her imagination, Katara could’ve sworn there was still blue lightning—Azula’s lightning—flickering across the wound, sparking at her fingertips and prickling across her skin.

Maybe, then, it was this lingering remnant of the Avatar’s slayer that had Katara so on edge. Maybe that was the reason why tension still thrummed through her body despite that she and Zuko were safe now, despite that they’d won.

“He’s going to come back.”

Zuko’s words broke the heavy silence, startling Katara so badly her concentration flew out the figurative window. The water around her hands lost its glow and splattered across Zuko’s chest like she’d emptied a full bucket on top of him. Frantic apologies spilled from her lips as she bent the water off his upper body with similar haste, but Zuko—wincing—pushed himself into a sitting position before she could begin the healing process again.

“Zuko, what are you—”

“Aang is going to come back,” he repeated, staring at Katara with an intensity that probably shouldn’t have been possible for someone in his grievously injured state. A testament to her healing skills, truly, and also to Zuko’s general stubbornness.

“I know he will,” Katara said after a pause, bending the water she’d again collected around her hands into the leather waterskin that hung at her hip. “If memory serves, I was the one telling you that on our way here.”

Zuko chuckled. “I know. Sorry. You just seemed like…” His eyes flickered across her face, searching for vulnerability Katara refused to bare. “Like you needed the reminder.”

Katara sighed, not meeting his gaze. “Look. I know Aang will come back. I know he’ll win.” Spirits, maybe he had won already. “I mean, he’s the only one who can. But I guess I’m still—” Katara cut herself off with another sigh, blinking back exhausted tears. “Fine, you’re right. I guess I’m still worried.”

Aang would return victorious, yes, there was no doubt in her mind. But at what cost? What price would he have been forced to pay? Sacrificing his body through the loss of a limb? Sacrificing his soul through the loss of that which his people valued above all else? Katara knew, she knew that if anyone could stop Ozai without killing him, it was Aang. But what she didn’t know was—was how.

Spirits, Katara wouldn’t be able to handle it if Aang returned to her broken in a way she couldn’t heal. She’d already witnessed him die once, watched his body go limp as life left it. She wasn’t ready to watch his spirit disappear, wasn’t ready to watch hope leave his heart, too.

Zuko opened his mouth, presumably to offer more words of comfort to her, but he was interrupted by Appa’s body stiffening—the sky bison was so large it was impossible not to notice the reaction. He’d originally been standing guard, for all intents and purposes, while Katara healed Zuko, but now his eyes were glued to the sky as he released a bellow that shook the stone of the courtyard beneath them.

Katara grabbed Zuko’s arm to keep him from toppling over, but instead of resettling himself, Zuko tried to stand up, as if the giant wound on his chest was nothing more than a mere papercut.

“It’s Aang!” was the only explanation he gave as Katara relented with a huff and helped him to his feet. “It has to be. What else would get Appa acting like this?”

Privately, Katara agreed with him. Hope beat in her heart so rapidly it ached. But since Zuko had wildly, unexpectedly, completely out of the blue transformed into an optimist—seriously, had the lightning gone through his brain?—well, that meant she had to be the one to temper his optimism with a little realism.

“It could be a threat,” she responded honestly, not releasing Zuko’s arm until she was certain he’d gathered his balance.

Zuko shot her a doubtful look. “You sure?” He pointed at Appa, whose tail had started shaking—okay, yes, probably with excitement, Katara would admit that much.

It was then her turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

Seconds later, those otherworldly clouds split open to reveal a Fire Nation airship, and on the exterior Katara could see flashes of blue and green fabric—Sokka and Toph, it had to be. Spirits knew she probably should have been concerned about who was steering the balloon, but once it was clear the ship was heading steadily towards the ground and wouldn’t face a disastrous crash, Katara’s mind returned to its previous mantra.

Aang. Aang. Aang.

“Remember to breathe, Katara.”

Katara shot Zuko a mild glare at his wry tone, but exhaled, because he was right—she’d been holding her breath. In fact, she was still holding far more tension in her body than could be considered healthy, but Katara knew that overwhelming stiffness wasn’t going to ease until she saw her friends alive and well, until she felt Aang’s heartbeat in sync against her own.

Katara’s breath hitched as the airship came to a stop far from herself and Zuko, hovering above the stone ground of the courtyard. It was much larger up close—no wonder it couldn’t land properly. There was a deep rattle as a metal plank, of sorts, some kind of steel pathway lowered from the ship and scraped across the ground with an earsplitting screech. Onto it stepped—

“They’re alive!” Katara gasped, blinking back elated tears as Sokka, Aang, Toph, and Suki—and Momo atop Suki’s left shoulder—stepped out onto the platform. One of Sokka’s legs was in a splint and he had to lean onto Suki’s side for support as he hobbled along, but— “They’re all alive!”

Aang was alive.

They’d done it. A little bruised, a little broken, maybe all around worse for wear, but—

They’d done it.

“Come on,” Zuko urged, taking an unsteady step forward and immediately wincing. He didn’t let the pain stop him, though, powering another foot ahead. “Let’s meet them halfway.”

Katara rolled her eyes, ducking under Zuko’s arm to brace him against her side, careful to avoid his injury. “Idiot.” Standing on his own was one thing, but walking by himself was an entirely different matter. She could already tell Zuko was the kind of person who made a terrible patient.

But Katara walked with him all the same, slow and steady. As they got closer, she could better see the physical state her friends were in. Toph had only a few scrapes across her arms and face. Same for Suki. Sokka had clearly done a number on his leg, as he was hardly putting any weight on it despite the well-made split, and not to mention that Suki continued to brace him while he walked. Aang was—

“Appa!”

Well, Aang was getting smothered by Appa, Katara noted with silent amusement as the sky bison practically tackled Aang to the ground, nuzzling and licking him with unabashed eagerness.

“Buddy, I’m okay!” Aang managed to wheeze out amidst his laughter, giving Appa a tight hug. “I’m okay, I promise.”

He seemed to be telling the truth, at least based on what Katara could discern from afar. His orange robes were torn to oblivion, with only his Fire Nation pants remaining. She could see minor burns across his chest and one area on the left side of his ribs that looked to her like it would become a painful bruise, but overall—

“If you guys are here with no Azula,” Sokka joked as they all came to a stop, snapping Katara’s attention away from Aang, “does that mean Zuko finally gets to rule the Fire Nation?”

Katara allowed Zuko to keep some of his weight on her even as they stood still. He laughed at her brother’s comment. “Katara’s the one who technically defeated her in the Agni Kai. Maybe that makes her the Fire Lord.”

Katara groaned and rolled her eyes, ignoring the amused snickers of her friends. “Tui and La, no. I refuse. I resign. I—I abdicate. The throne is all yours, Zuko.”

She turned her attention to her brother’s injured leg as Suki began recounting the details of their battle in the air, including how they’d managed to pilfer an airship of their own. Up close, Katara was relieved to see that no bone had broken through the skin in Sokka’s shin or thigh—that would have made it much harder for her to heal. She made sure Zuko was stable on his feet before stepping away to study the injury further. But as she crouched at Sokka’s side and went to bend water out her flask for the preliminary healing process—

“Hey. That can wait.”

Katara blinked, staring up at Sokka in utter confusion. “Excuse me?” His leg was broken, she couldn’t just—

Sokka jerked his head towards Aang, who was busy freeing himself from beneath Appa’s weight. “Go greet the hero of the hour. My leg will still be here when you get back.”

Toph snorted. “Of the hour?” She shook her head. “Give him credit, Sokka—Twinkle Toes is the hero of the century.” Momo chirped before jumping from Suki’s shoulder onto Toph’s, as if agreeing with her.

Katara turned to look at Aang, her mind tuning out the rest of her friend’s teasing banter that followed. He was—Aang was more than the hero of the century, at least to her. More than the Avatar, more than an airbender, more than—

Aang must have felt her eyes on him, because he paused in petting Appa to turn around and give her a shy grin. “Hi, Katara.”

With those two words, the dam burst, and Katara sprinted over to Aang with all the speed of a roaring wave. Her arms crashed around his bare shoulders like water beating against the shore, and Aang wrapped his arms around her waist in return. Katara could only squeeze him tighter, his face pressing into her shoulder.

“You stopped him,” Katara whispered. Her words were shaky, or—spirits, maybe it was her entire body that was quivering. “Ozai. You stopped him.”

Aang nodded into her shoulder, and Katara slackened her grip just enough so he could lean back and reply. “Yep.”

Katara’s right hand instinctively rose to cup his face. She could see it in his eyes—tired, yes, but still so full of hope, the warm gray as rich as the shimmering moon. “You found another way, didn’t you?”

Aang smiled at her, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, and spirits if that wasn’t an image Katara wanted traced into her memory for the rest of time. “Ozai is alive. But he can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Katara had a million questions, the first being the obvious How? How did you do it? But no query fell from her lips despite her overwhelming curiosity. Instead, all she could do was stare at Aang, tears of relief sliding down her cheeks as she smiled and smiled and smiled and—

“I am so proud of you,” Katara said, the words halfway to a sob as she pulled Aang into another crushing hug, marvelling at how perfectly his body fit against hers. “I knew you would do it, Aang, I knew it. Only you could.”

Aang laughed. “Must’ve been your belief that got me through it.” His arms tightened around her, as if he, too, needed the unspoken reassurance that Katara was there, that she was real, that they had won, the same way she needed such comfort from him. “At one point, I’m not even sure I believed I’d succeed.”

“It’s a good thing I never doubted you, then,” Katara whispered, and Aang laughed again.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Katara wasn’t quite sure what Aang was thanking her for—her faith then, her presence now?—and in truth, she had a feeling Aang didn’t precisely know, either. But what did precision matter? They were here, together, alive. Beaten and bruised but not broken beyond all repair. Neither of them had lost what they couldn’t live without.

For Aang, the vestiges of his peaceful people. And for her…

Aang.

Katara hadn’t lost Aang. Not like she had before, not like she couldn’t bear to ever lose him again.

“Alright, lovebirds! That’s enough time spent hugging the life out of each other. Come tend to the wounded, please.”

Katara rolled her eyes at her brother’s obnoxious interruption, but she released Aang after a final tight squeeze. She really did want to take a look at Sokka’s leg. Besides—she and Aang now had all the time in the world. All the time in a peaceful world, at that.

Aang followed her back to the rest of their friends, and Katara had just knelt down to examine Sokka’s injury when Aang burst out into loud, unprovoked laughter. The sudden sound made her jump, and it was only thanks to some quick thinking—and inelegant bending—that she avoided spilling the water from her waterskin all over the stone courtyard for the second time in the past ten minutes.

“What’s so funny?” Zuko asked, the apparent reason for Aang’s laughter. “What did I do?”

“No—you didn’t—” Aang cut himself off with a wheeze, and Katara couldn’t stop herself from glancing behind her to see what on Earth had him in stitches.

Aang pointed at Zuko’s chest, biting down hard on his bottom lip in a clear attempt to withhold further laughter. “That. Azula shot you with lightning, right?” When Zuko nodded, he said, “And Katara healed you?”

“I did,” Katara confirmed. Sokka gave her a disapproving look, probably because she was yet to begin healing his leg, but—well, this time Katara had no real excuse beyond her own intrigue. Whoops. But it wasn’t as if his splint wasn’t holding up perfectly. The expertise with which it was secured suggested Suki had been the one to fashion it, and that meant Sokka would be fine for a quick moment longer.

Aang’s laughter returned in full force, one arm wrapped around his stomach while his free hand gestured wildly behind him. “We—We match!” He turned around, and—

“Oh, for Agni’s sake,” Zuko groaned, and Katara found herself unable to contain her laughter. In a matter of seconds, they were all laughing at Aang’s revelation. Even Zuko, once he’d gotten over himself.

Tui and La. Katara loved her friends, she loved her life, she loved being alive with her friends by her side and—

Aang.

She loved Aang.

Oh, spirits.

#kataang #kataangtag #kataang week #katara #aang #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #atla fanfic #the gaang #amy writes

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bandsanitizer · 3 years

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Okay but that scene in the hospital as letting Buck know what he means to Eddie and Christopher, not just as Eddie’s coworker or firefighting partner. Not just as someone who cares about Christopher. Not just another person there to help make being a single parent easier for Eddie. No, that scene was Eddie informing Buck that he is family—for real. That he’s Eddie’s best friend and the person he trusts the most. That he’s both a good friend to Christopher, but a remarkable guardian in his life, too. And this is so important in timing. (Explained after the “Keep Reading” because it’s a long post.)

Disclaimer: I recognize that everyone has different experiences, views, and definitions, regarding family, parenting, and the interpretation of canon. This is mine and yours are yours. This isn’t heavily romantic-Buddie inclined, nor is it intended to be, but it can be read as such. Also, spoilers for up to the s4 finale.

At the beginning of season 3, we learn what Christopher means to Buck. In his fight to save and find Christopher—risking his life—Buck showcases that he loves Christopher, that Christopher is important to him, and, in how he doesn’t have the “Oh, shit! How do I tell Eddie?” moment until he sees Eddie, it solidifies that Buck’s care for Christopher is not lenient on Christopher being Eddie’s son.

Later in s3, in the market, we see how Eddie views Buck regarding Christopher. By bringing up Christopher in the argument (“Christopher misses you.”), Eddie acknowledges a level of responsibility Buck has regarding Christopher. Granted, Buck loves kids and he’s a softie so that comment would hurt either way, BUT Eddie is not the kind of person to just use Christopher for the sake of a guilt trip. Eddie knows Buck cares about Christopher, Eddie knows Buck probably didn’t think things through, and Eddie wishes that Buck did. As much as that stands, however, it’s made clear that Eddie expected Buck to consider how it might affect them and Christopher. A big responsibility to place on a typical friend.

Yet, since this is coming right off the tsunami incident, Eddie’s expectations aren’t unexpected, but an extension. He said that there was “nobody else in the world,” that he would trust with Christopher more than Buck. And then for Buck to cut everyone off? Like it wouldn’t even matter? That doesn’t fit the way Eddie views how Buck cares—particularly, how he cares about Christopher.

Then jump to Eddie Begins. This is where we clearly see how Buck views Eddie and further confirmation that Christopher is in fact Eddie’s everything.

Buck’s reaction to the well collapsing on Eddie is very similar to his reaction to losing Christopher in the s3 tsunami arc. Distinctly different levels of reaction than he had towards Bobby being in danger and Maddie being held hostage with the rest of the dispatchers. Something Buck mentions to Sue about the latter, is that Maddie has Chimney. Bobby also has Athena. Hen has Karen. Eddie has... Well, Eddie has Buck and Buck has Eddie. The show has been pairing off characters and naturally, Buck and Eddie are one.

So his reaction to losing Eddie being similar to his reaction to losing Christopher, is a way of non-verbally conveying that Buck cares about Eddie a lot. To the same degree or within the same intensity as he cares for and loves Christopher. That it’s not just what they mean to other people in Buck’s life, but what they mean to Buck, himself. And with the contrast for worrying about Maddie or Bobby, it’s a recognition by Buck that in the same way Eddie and Christopher have a place in his life very different from the rest of the firefam, so does Buck in their lives. That he knew Maddie needed Chimney in that moment, and in losing Christopher and Eddie that he was that person in their lives. The one that’s supposed to fight with everything they got to make sure they’re okay.

We already knew how much Eddie loves his son prior to Eddie Begins, but we see his love and care for Shannon, as well. Plus, we get some sort of recognition that Eddie has much regrets over not being there for Christopher when he was younger. This is significant, particularly if you ship Buddie, but even without a romantic lense, it emphasizes the relationship between Buck and Eddie & Christopher.

The show pushes the idea that Shannon fell short at being a good mother to Christopher. Granted her running away wasn’t great parenting, but so did Eddie, and it’s not like Shannon didn’t try later. (Also that’s a completely different post.) What matters here is that Eddie trusts Shannon with Christopher. While it isn’t easy and he certainly has hesitations about Shannon leaving again and how that instability affects Christopher, it’s not that Eddie doesn’t trust Shannon with caring for Christopher. Eddie expects her to also be his wife and to have his back, and it’s in the emphasis on their marriage and getting a divorce, that focuses in on how much Eddie&Shannon weren’t working, not how much EddieShannon&Christopher were not. They both ran, under different circumstances, and they both stepped up to the plate when it came to caring for Christopher. (Again, it’s a different post for me to go into my thoughts on how them running wasn’t ever out of a lack of love or care for Christopher, and how much it was likely their marriage not working and worries about how that would affect Christopher.)

So, anyways, the point is that Shannon was there to care and love Christopher when Eddie was not. Eddie was there to care and love Christopher when Shannon was/is not. And in the s4 finale, Eddie points out the fact that Buck was there for Christopher when he was not. This, also tied to the having each other’s backs being used with Eddie and Buck in the beginning of s2 and later with Eddie and Shannon, points out that Buck role in Christopher’s life is heavily parental.

In the living room scene about Hildy and video games, the tactic of Christopher switching from reasoning with Eddie to asking Buck is very much the “ask the other parent” strategy. The look Buck gives to Eddie then (similar to the one he gives in the playdate scene in the s3 Christmas episode) is very easily read as “Eddie is the parent,” but Eddie giving Buck a look back becomes permission for Buck to handle it and that’s not just Buck being Eddie’s best friend, but Buck as someone with a parental/guardian role to Christopher. (Also consider Buck’s dynamic with the other kids of the 118–he’s very much and very strictly young fun (uncle) Buck, no?)

And with Christopher running to Buck when he was upset with Eddie and didn’t know how to express everything he was feeling—a moment when Buck was there for Christopher when Eddie couldn’t be, as well as something along the lines of knowing parents talk but still going to the other parent for something you don’t know how to talk to the other about.

The brief phone call was very parental—there’s no discussion regarding why Christopher would go to Buck or if Buck was okay with it or Eddie apologizing for it or any realm of discussion outside of Christopher is okay and Eddie is on his way. Granted, as a parent, priority just being Christopher being okay since he was missing makes a lot of sense. But there’s this underlying sense of “Of course he’s at Buck’s” as well as the innate trust Eddie is displaying with Buck.

This trust in Buck is also seen with Christopher as Christopher opens up to Buck. And the tone Buck takes & the conversation they have, is also fairly parental. Buck’s empathetic to Christopher and he listens and he gets it—he knows how scary it is to feel like you’re losing people—but he’s also pretty clear that Christopher running off wasn’t okay and that he needs to talk to somebody. And then, Buck says Christopher has him and promises that Christopher isn’t going to lose him.

This is an promise of permanence. Buck can’t technically promise he’ll always be there for Christopher—that’s something that cannot be truly certain. And interestingly, Shannon and Eddie have also promised something vaguely forever towards Christopher as well. Notably, in Shannon’s letter about loving Christopher “even if it’s from a distance” and like everything that went on in the flashbacks of Eddie Begins. So, the scene becomes Christopher and Buck recognizing the importance they have to each other.

Which means: Buck knows he cares for Christopher and Eddie. Eddie knows he cares for Christopher. Eddie and Buck knows Christopher cares for both of them. Buck and Christopher are aware of each other caring for each other. Buck’s always been aware how much Christopher means to Eddie. So what’s left?

Eddie recognizing he cares for Buck and the two of them being aware that they both care for each other. The first of which the s4 finale tackles and the second that becomes alluded to by the end of the hospital scene.

There’s a lot of reasons for why that over the year Eddie never told Buck about changing his will. It’s scary, it’s a lot of responsibility, etc. It means that while Eddie is aware of how much Buck loves and cares about Christopher, the responsibility of being a parent is a whole other thing. And yet, Eddie doesn’t really have many doubts about it. Yes, there’s the small thought that just maybe, just maybe, it’s asking Buck for too much—but as it’s said in the finale, Eddie knew Buck wouldn’t refuse.

So why not tell Buck and why tell Buck then? Because Buck needs to know that Eddie cares about him. That in telling Buck earlier or even going to Buck earlier, could come across to Buck as Eddie measuring something—whether that be how much he cares about Christopher or how much he can trust Buck or something else—it leans heavily on Buck means something to Eddie because he cares about Christopher. And while that’s true, that’s not it.

Eddie says he’s telling Buck now because Buck said he thought it would’ve been better if he was the one that got shot. Because Eddie is well aware of Evan risk-taker, doesn’t think before he does, “it would’ve been better if I was shot” Buckley does majority of what he does and thinks majority of what he thinks because he believes he’s expendable—but he’s wrong. And Eddie is trying to show Buck he’s wrong.

That Buck matters to Eddie. That Eddie trusts no one with Christopher the way he trusts Buck. That if he can’t be there, then there’s no one Eddie wants more than Buck to be there for Christopher. It’s a huge responsibility to say, “If I die, you’ll have to take care of my son,” but it’s also privlege. It’s a trust. It’s saying that I’d trust you with my world if I wasn’t around to care for it. If Buck didn’t matter to Eddie, Eddie couldn’t have possibly changed his will like that. If Buck didn’t matter to Eddie, then Eddie wouldn’t have set forth the very possible risks of upsetting the family he has—that Christopher has. That while it comes from caring about his son and wanting the best for him, considering not just what is best for Christopher but what Eddie believes is best for Christopher is very fueled towards caring for Buck.

Because, note that logically there’s a lot of ways that Eddie and Christopher moving back to Texas would’ve been better for Christopher. There’s a lot of ways that Christopher being taken care of by Eddie’s parents that would’ve been better for Christopher. Because it would mean being surrounded by family. It would mean foregoing many of the real financial struggle single-parenting can have. It would mean 100% security that Christopher would have people to care for him—given Eddie’s risky career. And yet, that’s not what Eddie believed was best for Christopher—or at least it wasn’t what he wanted for Christopher. That Eddie would fight tooth and nail to secure a stable and fulfilling life for Christopher on his own, if it may be, if it meant Christopher being with his father. Because Eddie wasn’t there for a few years, and he regretted that, and wanted to be a father for Christopher now that he had a chance to.

So, where logically, leaving Buck to have custody of Christopher if Eddie dies doesn’t make the most sense because Christopher has extended family in both Texas and LA, it was what Eddie thought was best. It was what Eddie thought was right. Almost like how it’s pretty clear Eddie’s parents didn’t like Shannon, and yes their relationship was rocky, but Eddie stands by the similarities in their running from the family and Eddie doesn’t put up with insults on Shannon’s parenting. That while between the two of them, yeah there were issues and they both can agree they weren’t great parents to Christopher in the times they weren’t there, Eddie also doesn’t let it only fall on Shannon, doesn’t stand for implications that Shannon did anything less than love her son and do better when she came back. Like literally the worst part of both of their parenting comes down to the one instance they left. Yes, not great, but, especially as a tv drama, it’s never to say that they don’t know how to be good parents. Outside of leaving, they’re capable of caring for Christopher and loving him fully. (Again that’s a whole other post)

But the point! Is that Buck loves Christopher. Christopher loves Buck. Buck loves Eddie. Eddie loves Buck. And there is no one in the world Eddie trusts more than Buck to be there for Christopher when he can’t be and to fight for Christopher. Both are also notably traits that both Shannon and Eddie display to each other (taking over parenting when the other isn’t present & overall fighting to be part of their son’s life).

All in all, this is to say that the finale points out how much Buck means to Eddie—something that hasn’t be made completely clear before. And by Buck’s face after Eddie says Buck isnt expendable, it’s a bit of a new thing for Buck to realize, too. That while they’re both well aware how much they care for the each other and how much they care for Christopher—there’s been a lack of realizing how reciprocal that care is between the two of them. (Which like romantic shipper goggles on, that’s part of where Shannon&Eddie fell apart. That while they both saw they loved Christopher and loved each other for that, sometimes there was a lack of loving each other outside of that.)

This coming within the same time of them individually starting (sort of for Eddie) romantic relationships, emphasizes a permanence in each other’s lives (that is explained nicely by @/mistmarauder (link will be in reblog/notes).) It considers the many ways that them being best friends and family is a for-life sort of thing, that isn’t bound or restricted by romance or blood or anything of the sort. They chose each other. They choose each other. And whether or not Buddie becomes canon, Buck-Eddie-Christopher are 100% an established family unit within the 118/firefam and the s4 finale was meant to establish that clearly. That where Buck & Eddie naturally pair off as the 118 does, Buck-Eddie-Christopher form one of the smaller family units that are focused on within the 118/firefam.

And if, you want to take it more romantically, Buck and Eddie realizing how much they mean to each other as something reciprocal (so far on Buck’s end, we still need a clearer moment where Eddie goes “oh! Buck cares” but the “are you hurt?” moment came close) is a great continuation for growing feelings and extended slowburn, friends to lovers Buddie-endgame. Like they’ve established Christopher loves Buck, Eddie loves Buck, Buck loves them, and Buck fulfills the sort of parental role well. Not much more checkboxes to fulfill for canon Buddie excepting navigating feelings, epiphanies, and the romance of it all. It’s not set up to only allow for Buddie, so there’s, as usual and expressed, room for other paths of canon, but it’s good set up should they choose that to be the direction they decide they want to go in.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #diaz family #christopher diaz #shannon diaz #911 fox #911 spoilers #talk about an essay #alison speaks?#okay so anon is off bc i don’t trust posting my opinions on things here and idk i don’t think there’s anything bad but yeah #hskajdjskdjdksjdjsj I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THAT ONE SCENE

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6blackfilin9 · 2 years

Note

Loving your Swan Princess art, especially your character, Odile. Do you have any headcannons for, theories about what her relationship with Derik and Odete may have been like?

Oh!

Well first of all, for those who don’t know, i must say that Odile is one of the main characters in the Tchaikovsky’s ballet, The Swan lake; in fact her origin goes even farther than that, she was in the original german legend/ fairy tale, on which the ballet was based.

I link my take mainly to the fairy tale, since it is the first canonical origin.

(And to the beginning of the Swan Princess movie)

And, since the circumstances of their relationships may richly vary, i shall say that I’ll be talking mostly about the outcome where Odette ends up with Rothbart; at least because this is the only case where they’d have any kind of a thing that could be called a relationship at all

Yes, it’s connected to their attitude towards Rothbart. Not fundamentally, but tightly still.

For Derek I don’t have any really good news, actually.

I feel like he’d have some sort of dual attitude towards her, with him hating her for the fraud she and her father have done, but on the other hand, Odile does make an impression, and is a very enchanting young woman. Thinking too much of the situation won’t be of any help for him, as well as believing her to be the victim of Rothbart’s evil will.

The outcomes for him vary, depending on the plot; He can end up hating her mortally as well as forming a crush on her while trying to forget Odette and “save” Odile from Rothbart.

Though, i guess Derek would either keep the distance from all of them, trying to forget all the things that happened, or try to fix something (and pull it into shit), or, in the better case, accept the situation as it is.

Or all of these in order

But in the better outcome, they could become fine pals. I don’t think they’d go farther than buddies.

Mostly because of Odile

Odile herself will stay pretty much indifferent almost in any case.

She’d view him as nice and kind-hearted, but careless, shallow and irresponsible wind of a man. Which means her respect for him barely goes farther than etiquette.

Except for the better outcome, here she’d respect him a tiny bit more.

So, with Derek, their relationship would be balanced only in one case; in all the others, any of Derek’s feelings are mostly not mutual.

For Odette it is different, though

Even though Odile might view her as a nestling who’s just making it’s first steps to the big life and doesn’t clearly see the full picture, she believes the girl to have great potential, and pays her respect.

I guess even while being on the Lake Odile would be helping her with some stuff when needed, or keep a chat once she’s not busy. But, of course, she would still try to play in Rothbart’s good when possible, even though I’m sure he’d asked her to not interfere, since the natural course of the situation is fundamentally important to him.

On Odette’s side, things are pretty mixed. She knows that for as long as she stays on the Lake Odile is no friend for her and she can’t fully trust her. But still, for the first half of her imprisonment, it was a lot easier for Odette to stand Odile rather than Rothbart, even though with time she got used to both of them.

So to say

In spite of the sides taken, Odette’d certainly respect her greatly in response, at the very least. At the very ideal outcome, she could possibly view her as a good friend with some kind of an older sister vibe.

In spite of Odile’s nature being much more ruthless and violent than her father’s. The fact that his word is the only thing that keeps her on the short leash would still spook Odette a bit

Here, they’d maintain balance in the intensity and nature of their relationship in any case given, wether they end up friends or acquaintances

—

I’d love to keep analysing Odile as a character, her in tandem with Rothbart, the whole thing in general, y’know, but that would be too much text haha

#sorry for such delay #swan lake odile #odile #swan princess odette #princess odette #swan princess derek #swan princess headcanons

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jonspurpleskirt · 3 years

Text

Sharing Comfort

A/N: This is for @archivalpride. Prompt was “Sharing Clothes” and “Pre-Canon” so I wrote a fluffy piece to celebrate the quiet moments of trust. 1.7k in word length. No warnings apply.

___

Jon did not make friends fast. Most people he found to be too intimidating, boring or exhausting and not many knew what to do with his sudden info dumps and sharp comments that shot out of his mouth seemingly at random.

He'd been alone in Research for a long while because of it and happily so. Things had changed when Tim had joined the Institute, though. Tim had come into the library and sat down opposite Jon with a thunder cloud hanging over his head and pain in his dark eyes. He'd been quiet and snappy in a fake cheerful way that screamed undealt trauma. At least to Jon, who seemed to be the only one to feel the vibes of "Leave me alone" and "I'm grieving" that Tim gave off in a constant stream.

Having Tim as his desk partner was an intense experience despite the way they only ever nodded to each other in greeting at first. But it was also intriguing. A mystery. Jon loved mysteries.

The instances he had ever willingly initiated a conversation with a stranger could be counted on one hand. Which marked the day he tapped Tims shoulder - after roughly two months of co-habiting - to tactfully ask him what he was groaning about as a very special day indeed. They steamrolled into friendship from there, both personalities clashing in the best ways possible.

Jon pulled Tim into nerve wracking research expeditions, Tim flirted them out of being arrested a few times, they went out for drinks and karaoke and movies and stayed late nights to crack nutty cases of supernatural bullshit together.

This went on for months. A nice, comfortable new routine. Jon wasn't alone anymore. And Tim broke out of whatever had pulled him down so much, becoming more cheerful and flirty by the day. Which didn't matter to Jon because Tim would always come to him the most, would always seek out to partner up with Jon and would defend his prickly personality to his dying breath.

And then Sasha joined them. She came from Artefact Storage, which made her a prime target for every curious researcher in a five mile radius. Tim and Jon included. Alright maybe they were the worst of the bunch.

Although Jon only thought of himself as a partner in crime in this one. He had been dragged along by Tim, after all. Sure in the end he had been the one to ask the most questions, but that wouldn't have been the case if he had just been left alone to be antisocial in front of his laptop.

Sasha and Tim, much to Jons chargin, hit it off within the first few seconds. And ever since then their cozy two-someness had turned into a group effort. With specially leverage put on the word "effort".

"Morning Jon!"

Jon let out a deep, rumbly hum, voice not up to the task of supporting words this late in the- He glanced at the little clock at the bottom of his screen. Ah... early in the morning.

With a laugh that was far too cheerful however you would describe the current hour, Sasha sat down next to him. She leaned in to look at what he was working. He leaned away to get her out of his personal bubble.

Her legs brushed his and the rustling drew his gaze downward. She wore a thick wool skirt, long enough not to go against the dress code. It was a somewhat dull navy blue and fell down in enticing waves around her crossed legs.

It looked very soft and comfortable. Jon itched to touch it. Instead he rubbed against the stiff fabric of his own cream coloured dress pants.

"Would you mind?" He snapped at her.

"No. You spelled 'aboriginal' wrong."

"Thank you for your insight. Don't you have anywhere else to be?"

"Don't you?" She shot back, light and quick as though they were just bantering and not fighting over the right to sit at this table.

Sasha huffed at his glare and slid a cup of something steaming over to him. "You keep staying so late that I can buy you a drink at the asscrack of dawn and be sure you're still here to consume it hot. I'm not usually one to judge anyone's sleep schedule. But I'm judging your sleep schedule."

"And yours is any better?" Jon muttered, taking the offering and peeking inside. Black tea with a bit of cream and hopefully enough sugar to rot his teeth out of his mouth. He needed both the coffein and the sweet energy source.

"I'm getting at least two more hours of sleep than you do on a daily basis, so I'm good."

"Tim would have both of our heads if he knew."

Sasha put her hand on the table and stretched out her pinky. "I swear secrecy if you do."

With a snort Jon linked their pinkies. "I'll hold you to that."

So... Maybe Sasha wasn't that bad. She was a little aggressive in her befriending techniques, Jon mused. At least he hoped the early morning chats and cups of tea and coffee were that and not an elaborate plan to get rid of him via slow poisoning. But she was about as curious as Tim and Jon and her skills with computers were very happily exploited by the both of them. So Jon eventually had to admit that she was actually a very nice addition to the group.

Not that he could have ever said no to their friendship. Tim and Sasha put together were a maelstorm of affection, sucking Jon in with a force he had no chance to defend against. And before he knew it they had successfully gotten him accostumed to friday nights at the pub and saturday mornings in their flats, smashed together on a couch or a bed or a mattress depending on who had had the misfortune of playing host that week.

Jon hadn't been this comfortable since Georgie. And that wasn't only the booze talking. It was one of those nights where they ended up leaving the pub early to lounge around Sashas massive sofa instead. Jons head was swimming within a blissful haze of tipsiness.

He was slouching over one end of the couch, head tilted just so that he could watch his two friends bicker. The words didn't really register, but the noise was nice and their expressions were funny.

Without his conscious saying so, his gaze slid down to Sashas leg area. She wore a very eye catching, fluttery red skirt this time around and the way the warm glow of the ceiling lamp was reflected in the material was mesmerizing.

"Oh Jonny boy, don't you know staring like that is rude?" Tim half-joked as he noticed.

Sasha slapped him on the shoulder. "Shush you there's like zero sexual longing in his gaze, Tim. You don't need to go all protective big brother on me. He just really likes my skirts."

"They look comfy." Jon muttered, sinking deeper into the couch.

"Awww. Jon. Jon my love. My friend. My buddy." Tim scooted over to him, nearly face planting on the floor in his eagerness to slide into Jons side. "Is this jealousy I hear?"

"No. Did you just degrade me from lover to lowest friendship tier?"

"Oh I beg to differ." Tim sang, ignoring the question and making Jon scowl harder.

An arm got thrown over his shoulder and Jon was tugged into Tims side, relaxing into the tight hold against his will.

"You know if you didn't make it a sport to buy the most uncomfortable clothing ever, you wouldn't need to glare at Sashas fashion choices all the time. Making other people think things about your intensions."

"Fuck other people."

Jon waited until the surprised laughter of his two friends ebbed down to speak again. "I wanna be comfortable too..."

"Say no more. Sasha to the rescue."

Tim and Jon both whined as she hopped off and darted away into her bedroom. She hadn't been part of the cuddle pile, but her presence was still dearly missed. Thankfully not for long because a few minutes later she reappeared with a long, purple skirt.

"Here you go mister. Go on try it on."

Trading places with her Jon didn't hesitate to shug his trousers off and slip the skirt on. Tim wolf whistled behind him and Jon dutifully showed him a finger. The yelp he heard shortly after told him that Sasha must have taken more direct approach to disciplining Tim.

"Bad boy. I picked that colour for a reason."

Jon flushed at the reminder that Tim and Sasha knew. That they knew and accepted him and even went out of their way to make him comfortable.

"I may not be allowed to touch, but I can still appreciate beauty when I see it."

"Do you need glasses, Tim?" Jon couldn't help but ask while he settled back down.

It was his turn to be slapped on the shoulder. "Nu-uh! No self depricating jokes in my household!"

"Yes ma'am." He scooted over to Sashas side, marveling at the slide of the soft material against his legs. "Anyway. Touching yes. But no sex, only cuddles."

Sasha laughed in delight as she pulled him closer so he could stretch out, the two of them nearly shoving Tim off the couch.

"Wait, wait, wait Jon you're definitely not comfortable yet!"

"Hm?" He frowned at the renewed shifting, jeez everyone was being so squirmy today.

"Dress shirt? Really? Wait a sec."

Tim ended up finding a truly attrocious night shirt he had stored in one of Sashas cupboards. It was rainbow coloured, but at least it was made of a soft cotton and about a size too big on Jon.

"Awww Jon you're adorable!"

"Timothy Stoker don't you dare take a photo."

"Fine, fine. But I will remember this day forever."

It turned out that he didn't need to. The next time they were over at Sashas Jon asked to borrow their clothes again and the next time after, and the next time after that, too. It kind of escalated from there, clothes mixed together until it was hard to remember who owned what.

And that was perfect. Because the most comfortable clothes were always the ones that belonged to his friends.

#tma #archivalpride #my writing #jontimsasha #jonathan sims #tim stoker #sasha james #week one #prompt: sharing clothes #hope i'm doing this right #can be read as friendship #or platonic polycule #i honestly have no clue where to draw the line #fanfic

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haus-seeblick · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 3: Rainbows

Title: We’ve Got Your Back, Jack

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,660

Tags: Mild (brief) Angst, Dean Winchester and Castiel are parents, De-aged Jack Kline (he did it to himself), Jack Kline is twelve, Fingernail painting as therapy, Claire is an excellent big sister, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Canon Divergence from 15x18 (twelve years later), Jack has a guinea pig named Nougat

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Claire Novak/Kaia Nieves, Background Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy

On AO3 Here

When Jack is teased at school for wearing his favorite rainbow jacket, his family comes together to help build him back up.

“Sunshine, you gotta calm down.” He moves to stand behind Cas where he’s sitting at the kitchen table and squeezes his shoulders reassuringly. There’s hardly any give; Cas is a single ball of tension.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean sets a steaming mug of tea in front of Cas, who glares at it with such intensity that Dean’s surprised it doesn’t shatter on the spot.

“I can’t calm down,” Cas growls. “He was bullied. The sweetest boy in the world, and they made him feel small. How are you calm, Dean?”

Dean sighs and pulls up a chair. “He seemed fine, Cas. I mean, he is God. He was already talking about changes he wants to make once he comes back into power.”

Cas grips his mug and takes an abrupt, angry sip. “I wish he could make them now.”

“Me too, buddy. But he’s learning. Every shitty person he deals with, he learns something. That’s why he’s doing this whole human thing, remember?”

The kitchen’s quiet for a moment while Cas contemplates. He cups his hand over the tea, steam escaping between his fingers in lazy tendrils. “It’s just my instinct to shield him from cruelty.”

Dean nods. He scoots closer, sliding an arm around Cas’ warm, solid waist. “I know.”

Some of the rigidity in Cas’ posture softens and he leans into Dean’s side. Dean presses a kiss to his temple.

“What can we do?” Cas asks quietly. “For now. I want him to feel happy at school.”

Dean hums thoughtfully. “Not sure. The school already talked to the other kid's parents, so that part’s taken care of, and Jack said it was just the one boy. I think we just gotta be there for him. Remind him he’s awesome.”

“I just want to wear my rainbow coat.”

Dean and Cas turn around to see Jack standing in the doorway, rubbing his eye. He’s wearing the bee-patterned pajamas Cas got him for his twelfth birthday in the spring, and is cradling his guinea pig, Nougat, in one arm.

Cas immediately stands up and beckons Jack over. “You couldn’t sleep?”

Jack shakes his head, as earnest and deliberate as he does everything. He pads across the kitchen and hands Nougat to Dean before sitting down in Cas’ empty chair. It took Dean a while to get used to the guinea pig, to her sharp nails and shrill squeaks, but now he likes having her warm little body against his chest.

Cas flips the kettle back on to make Jack a cup of tea, too. “Did that boy’s teasing start with your coat?”

Jack plays with the strings on his pajama pants and nods. “I don’t understand. When he said those mean things and laughed, he felt—” Jack pauses, blinking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “He felt afraid, like he was cornered. Defensive.”

“His emotions must have been strong for you to sense them,” Cas says gently, pouring the steaming water into Jack’s favorite mug, a blue one with a big sun on the side. Dean slowly strokes a finger over Nougat’s soft brown head. His chest feels tight.

“Yes, they were. I feel bad that he’s scared,” Jack continues. “And I’m going to work on helping people like that when Amara gives me my powers again. But I also just want to wear my coat.”

He’s twelve, Dean thinks. He’s God, and he’s twelve.

“You’re gonna wear your coat, kiddo,” he says, bumping Jack’s foot with his own. “That other kid, it sucks that he’s hearing shitty stuff at home. And it’s not your fault that he took it out on you. Trust me. If you wanna go to school decked out in rainbows, we’ve got your back.”

Cas nods and crouches down next to Jack, handing him his mug. “Dean is right. Our priority is helping you be yourself and be happy during your time as a human.”

Jack shuffles his feet a little. He cups his hand over the mug just as Cas had done. “Um, in that case, can I ask something?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas says.

“Well, my friend Mallary likes painting her nails. They look so cool. But she said boys don’t usually do that.”

“And you’d like to,” Cas prompts. His eyes meet Dean’s for a moment.

Jack nods. “Rainbow.”

Dean stands up, cradling Nougat snug against his chest as the guinea pig emits a startled squeak. “Well, then, you’re gonna have rainbow nails. I know just who to call.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Claire sweeps into the house the next morning — Sunday — in a whirlwind of hair and shopping bags. Even though they heard her coming all the way up the driveway, swearing and dropping things, it’s always a shock when she bursts through the door. Kaia follows quietly, with a fondly exasperated smile on her face. She rolls her eyes at Dean and he stifles a laugh.

Claire stomps into the living room and dumps her mountain of bags onto the couch. “Hi, old men. Where’s my brother?”

“Hello, Claire,” Cas says, lips quirking. “I see you’ve come quite prepared.” He’s leaning in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, an old t-shirt of Dean’s stretched over his broad shoulders. From his perch on the couch, Dean lets his eyes roam appreciatively; Cas has been ageing ever since he returned from the Empty a human, and the years look good on him. He even has a bit of silver in his wild hair. Twelve years together, and Dean still can't believe his luck.

“Yeah, well, Dean calls me saying my baby bro needs a confidence boost, I’m gonna go all out.” Claire starts emptying the bags onto the coffee table. “I brought every color I could find.”

As if on cue, Jack appears in the doorway next to Cas. His hair is still rumpled from sleep but his eyes are shining, taking in the rows of nail polish that Claire is lining up on the table.

“Wow, is that all for me?” He practically bounces into the room and sits cross-legged on the floor, picking up a blue bottle.

Claire ruffles his hair, disheveling it even more, and sits down next to him. “Hell yeah. And for your dads, too.”

Dean blinks. “Uh— you want us to— yeah, that idea was for Jack, actually.”

This time it’s Kaia’s turn to stifle a laugh, and Dean shoots her a dirty look. Cas chuckles and pushes off the doorframe to join Dean on the couch. He takes Dean’s hand in his own and lifts it up, lightly stroking one finger at a time as he looks at the short, blunt nails. Dean may work hard at the garage, but he’s hygienic and doesn’t bring any grease home, under his nails or otherwise.

Now, he blushes a little as Cas brushes a kiss onto his knuckles. “Dean will look beautiful. Just like Jack.”

Jack whoops and shoots Dean a dazzling smile. Dean can’t really say no to that face.

It’s decided that Kaia will paint Jack’s nails rainbow, a different color on each nail (Jack insists that some should have polka dots, too), and that Claire will do Cas’ and Dean’s. Dean tries to ask for just black, like Baby, but gets shouted down by everyone in the room and grudgingly agrees to a dark green. When Claire is done wiping down his nails and applies the first brush of color to his thumb, he has to admit it looks nice.

Jack keeps exclaiming in delight every time Kaia starts on a new color, and nearly loses it when she reveals that she got some tiny glittery stars to sprinkle on the drying polish.

“It looks like a galaxy,” he breathes, eyes wide, moving his fingers gingerly in the light from the window. Dean glances at Cas, who’s getting his nails painted a holographic blue, and is surprised to see a bright sheen in Cas’ eyes as he watches Jack. He’s smiling softly. Dean reaches over (careful of his own drying nails) and lays a hand on his shoulder. Together they watch their kid — sort of God, sort of not — reclaim his happiness one sparkly fingernail at a time.

Once everyone’s clear coat polish is dry (Dean had no idea there were so many steps involved), they take a bunch of pictures to send to Sam and Eileen. Dean almost considers hiding his own hands, but Jack’s gazing at him so excitedly that he splays them on the table next to Cas’ without a second thought.

They do look cool. Sam even says so in his text, after a string of heart-eye emojis.

Claire and Kaia head out after lunch (Cas quietly packs up about half of the nail polish they brought, pressing it into Kaia’s hands to take back home with them). Jack spends the rest of the afternoon picking out a suitably colorful outfit to match his nails at school tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This was a wonderful idea, Dean. Thank you,” Cas says that evening as they’re back at the kitchen table, Cas nursing his usual mug of tea and Dean packing Jack’s lunches for the week. “He was so happy. I hope he’ll be okay tomorrow.”

Dean slides the last sandwich into the fridge and lays his hands back on Cas’ shoulders. They’re warm and pliant tonight. He digs his fingers in, leaning down to kiss Cas’ cheek.

“He’ll be okay. He knows we’ve got his back.” He’s quiet for a moment and runs a hand through Cas’ thick hair, following a silver strand with his shiny-green thumb. “That counts for a hell of a lot.”

Cas twists around, covering Dean’s hand still on his shoulder with his own and gazing up at him. “You are a good man, Dean Winchester. A good man and an excellent father.”

Dean sucks in a big breath. “All right, sunshine. That’s about all the feelings I can handle today.” He grins down at Cas, though, just to assure him he’s fine.

And he is.

#suptober21 #destiel ficlet #that's their kid!!#can't be a dadstiel blog without writing a dadstiel fic #i like the concept of jack de-ageing himself post-canon and growing up as a human before being god again #anyway i wanted them all to paint their nails together #even dean #hope y'all like it

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Krayt’s Teeth

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 3 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead of you, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.7k

Content warnings: Canon typical violence, killing in self defense, headcanon angst, FLUFF, sensory deprivation, body worship, oral sex (f receiving).

A/N: These are my headcanons regarding Mandalorian culture in terms of sex, I didn’t find much lore on it so whether it’s accurate or not idk but I like them and that’s all that matters! Enjoy~

<-Previous Next->

You could have slept forever, even on that horrible little cot you were so comfortable that you could have been out for days, but the only one on it was you. You did’t know when Mando got up from the tiny space you both shared through the night, or how he managed to get out from your tangled bodies without waking you up. You opened your eyes to tiny green baby hands tugging at your fingers.

“Hey booger, is it time for breakfast? Where’s your papa?” You started to sit up, but the horrible sticky mess underneath you made you reluctant to move, a mix of passion and pain from the day before. “Yikes. I’m gonna run all his water out if I have to keep using the fresher. Come on, let’s get scrubbed up.” The baby gibbered excitedly at you, though you weren’t sure how much of what you said he actually understood. You scooped him into your arms without looking back at the sad little cot and all its stains. ��You’re water proof, right?”

The ship’s engines were rumbling away, so you guessed tin man was up in the cockpit flying you towards your next bounty. Or Nevarro. You would have to find Mr. Mystery later, the grossness that was you had to be dealt with. Between you and the child your shower took forever, the two of you getting water and soap bubbles from top to bottom. You didn’t care. You had been on Tatooine for months without having a real shower, being consigned to the sonic freshers that vibrated the sand off of the moisture farmer’s bodies; and this was the second real shower you’d gotten to have in twice as many days. You spent a good deal of time trying to get your chatty friend to hold still long enough to be dried off, the little fart squealing with joy every time you went for him with the towel.

An ordeal later you were both fresh and presentable, but your host was still nowhere to be seen, though the ugly sheets had thankfully disappeared from view. The ship was quiet now, without the engine running you knew you had to be back on the ground, and you could hear a distinct hum of activity coming through the walls. Space port? He flew us into town? The thought was replaced immediately with a rich, savory smell coming through the air vents: FOOD! Your gut grumbled loud enough to resonate through the cabin and earn you a confused look from the baby. When was the last time you really ate? You’d been living on ration packs for the last couple of days. That was going to change right now.

“Ya hungry buddy? Me too! Maybe that’s where your dad is, hmm?” Grabbing your old backpack and hooking the baby under your arm you started punching buttons on the wall to get the door open, sending walls sliding and cabinets opening before you got one of the access ramps open. Bright double sunlight nearly blinded you, and on reflex you covered the baby’s giant googly eyes. It took a moment for your own to adjust to the radiant light of the Tatooine morning, and the smell of cooking food hit you like a ton of bricks, making your mouth water. As your eyes adjusted you were able to take in your surroundings: though it was bright outside you were parked low inside a maintenance bay, the walls of which soared high above you; littered with engine parts and humming with droid activity. Sound was the last input your hungry brain could process, but when it did you didn’t like what you heard. The sounds of an argument echoed around the hangar, high and shrill.

“I already told you, you can’t park here! You’re bad for business!”

“I just need to park here long enough to get supplies.”

“Well you’re gonna have to pay up, Mando! I’m not running a charity here! You got credits for supplies you got credits for parking! Up front this time!”

Oh no.

Of all the mechanics and docking hangars in Mos Eisley he had to pick this one. The fireball of a woman barely came up to your partner’s chest, but she made up for it with unbridled fury; and the giant cooked animal leg she was swinging around like a club between bites made her look even more formidable. She noticed you coming down the ramp and stopped grilling your comrade long enough to glare daggers through your skull.

“Oh NO! No nope nuh uh! You can turn right back around and get back on that ship, missy! I knew it! I knew you were bad for business, Mando! What’re you doing running around with her? I hope she’s your bounty because she’s your problem!”

“Peli.” Your words were cold as ice, but the squirming baby in your arms took all the malice out of your stance. He wiggled until you set him down, and he ran towards the mechanic with open arms.

“Baby! You can stay but your dad’s gotta take the mean lady somewhere else! She cheats at sabacc!”

“You lost fair and square, Peli! Try playing a better hand next time!”

“Ladies please!” Mando cut through your bickering, holding his arms up between the two of you like he was trying to corner a pair of wild blurgs. “If I let the child stay with you for the day, will you let me park the Razor Crest here? Just for a couple hours?”

Peli bounced the child on her hip, offering him a bite of her breakfast. The baby squealed happily while he sank his little teeth into the mighty snack, though the size of it comically dwarfed his itty bitty hands. “I’ll tell you what, you let me keep him and then maybe I’ll let you park here in a week.” Mando cocked his helmet at her with disdain and she huffed loudly, “Well if you put it that way, I guess you can park here, but you gotta put five hundred credits down, and not a cent less!”

Mando reeled, stabbing his hands to his hips with indignation. “Five hund- absolutely not! What am I going to buy our-” You interrupted his tirade with a hand on his shoulder, waving a slew of credits in front of his eyes. Peli snatched them out of your hand, fanning them out like cards to count them.

“Who’d you cheat these outta?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You leaned casually against your metal man, eyeing Peli with a smug look on your face. “Let’s go, Mando. Bye baby green bean, have fun with Auntie Cheats-at-Sabacc!” You spun him around by the hand and dragged him towards the exit, ignoring the insults being slung at your back. “We are getting breakfast and that’s final!”

The Mandalorian allowed you to pull him along a few feet before grinding his heels into the sand, shaking his head. “You have to stay here.”

Now it was your turn for sassy head tilts. “I just paid for your parking, buckethead, that makes me in charge and I’m hungry! I’ll buy you breakfast too if you want.” He didn’t budge, fixing you with that intense stare of his and grabbing you by the shoulders.

“You are still being hunted. Mos Eisley isn’t safe for you.”

Ah.

You knew you could look after yourself, and he himself had compared you to a ferocious rancor just yesterday. You groaned loudly, “Shit balls of hell. But dad, I’m huuunngry!” The man bristled at your paternal harassment, sighing heavily and letting his helmeted head fall to the side like the world was ending. He glanced around the hangar exit, his shiny beskar snapping to each object of interest until he located a protocol droid corpse that was missing everything from the waist down. He strode over to it and held it down with one boot, yanking it by the head until it popped off. He began prying the droid’s vocorder apart at the mouth, pulling it wide until the droids face plate broke off with a snap! Tossing the rest of the logic processing unit to the ground, he held the face plate up to the light, inspecting the clarity of its photo receptor casings. He bent back down to the junk pile and fished out a stray wire to thread through the ruined audio processors, then tossed the finished creation to you.

“Put that on.”

You turned the makeshift mask over in your hands to check for sharp edges before you pressed it to your face. The bug eyes on the front were dirty, but you could see well enough. Before you could clean them more thoroughly you felt the weight of fabric on your head, his cloak now worn as your own. The thought of how you must look made you giggle. “You make me take my clothes off, now you want me to put clothes on. It never ends with you, Mando. Next you’ll be forging me beskar. Now can we eat something, please?” Without a word the armored man turned on his heel and walked out the hangar exit. I’ll take that as a yes.

Mos Eisley buzzed with life, people and animals and things you couldn’t explain made their way up and down the bustling streets. The smell of food led you to a vendor selling something that could have been a root vegetable, covered in herbs and spices and grilled to perfection. You couldn't wait, all thoughts of self-preservation went out the window as you hauled ass to the stand, waving two fingers in the air. When you had both of your prizes in hand you stuffed the savory veggie under your mask, sighing contentedly at the taste of real honest-to-Maker food. “Hey tin man, I hope you like... whatever this-” You turned to offer your partner something to eat, but he had disappeared from the crowd. “Alright... more for me.”

Taking a newspaper from the vendor you wrapped the extra snack up tight and threw it in your pack for later, continuing to chow down on your own. You would find Mando eventually, and you had credits to spend. You had held onto your hush-money for months to avoid suspicion, but now it was burning a hole in your pocket. Wandering the streets of Mos Eisley from merchant to merchant you began accumulating a small hoard of supplies, ranging from bacta to hand tools, and food. Whatever you could get your hands on that would survive hyperspace when you inevitably left this fucking dirtball for good; though you still weren’t convinced that you wouldn’t be making that flight in carbonite. You picked out new clothes and underwear, a much-needed bedroll, and some soft bantha-wool blankets. Something further down the marketplace caught your eye, and you made your way to the fancier items that glittered in the double daylight. You didn’t wear jewelry yourself, a poor choice of attire for a hunter, but the way the trinkets caught the light still made you wistful. Your hidden eyes danced over the glittering treasures; jewels and geodes that had been found deep in the sands and polished to a radiant shine.

You spotted something opalescent at the end of one table and found a pair of krayt teeth, each about the size of your palm. They had been sanded to a smooth, flat finish and carved with intricate desert patterns. The backs of them had tiny fittings that could be sewn on as buttons, or pulled off to reveal magnets. Something about their shape seemed familiar, though you couldn’t imagine why in that moment. You purchased the unique pieces anyway, something to remind you that even the harshest of places could hold hidden beauty. After a while you had so much junk piled in your arms that you could barely see over it, and tin man was nowhere to be found. You spotted a courier droid and paid for it to deliver your treasures back to Hanger 3-5, though you kept the pricey teeth in your pockets. With your arms free you started looking for your missing comrade.

The streets were busy with people, you would have to get somewhere out of the way in order to scan the crowds. Your eyes went from shimmer to shimmer, looking for his reflective chrome dome. “Big jerk,” you mused to yourself “‘Mos Eisley’s not saaafe...’ If he’s so worried then where the hell is he? Bah!” The scratched-up photoreceptor casings of your mask made it a challenge to see through the crowd, and you took a moment to adjust the iris apertures so you wouldn’t have to keep squinting into the double sunshine when you felt a hand on your back. Finally. “Mando, where have you-”

“Mando? Whos’sis man-do? Nah sssweetheart, I think you got me confused wi’ sssomeone elssse.” The slithering voice in your ear made your blood run cold. Not Mando! You rocketed your elbow backwards, connecting with the gut of the stranger on your back with an -oof! The hand let go long enough for you to make a run for it, and you tore off down the streets of the busy spaceport, smashing into bystanders in your wake. You cast a quick look behind you to see a large reptilian body flying after you, brownish scales catching the reflection of the noonday suns. Though you had your blaster, the risk of hitting a civilian was too great, so running would have to do. You were thankful for the courier droid that had freed your hands just minutes before as you barreled down the busy streets.

Market stalls flew past you, your boots kicking up sand and dust. The mask on your face, as dirty as it was, kept the debris from your eyes as you raced through the sunburnt city. You had to lose this fucker and fast. You turned down an alley, left, right, another right, leaping over supply crates and low fences like a lothcat. You turned to see if you had lost your chaser, breath heaving and heart pounding. Behind you was clear, but you took your eyes off your path for just a second too long, and were taken by surprise when a heavy weight fell on you from above.

The Trandoshan had gone over the low sandstone roofs, chasing you easily through the alleyways of Mos Eisley while you were none the wiser. He pinned you under him quickly, ripping your blaster off your hip and pointing your own barrel in your face. “Tha’ss enough, princesss! Nice n’ quietlike now. You gonna make me a pretty penny you are.” The lizard’s words dripped with metaphorical venom, though you were sure by the look of those fangs that real venom was probably right behind. “Ahm gonna cart yer arse right back to th’ Guild’n I’ll become th’ most famous hunter in th’ galax -urk!” With a sickening gag the hunter above you grew a shiny new fang in the back of his throat before falling down dead on top of you, a vibroblade protruding from back of his skull.

“Took you long enough!” You hollered at your chrome companion, who was stepping forward to kick the carcass off of you. “Where the fuck have you been? Getting your rifle polished?” He pulled you to your feet, handing you your blaster while readjusting the mask on your face. You swatted at his fussing hands, but when you looked at him you were shocked to see not one but three blinking bounty fobs dangling from his belt. On the ground by the dead lizard was a fourth, flashing rapidly in the sand.

“I told you you weren’t safe! We need to leave right now.” You were barely able to grab the remaining bounty fob while you were being tugged away by your allied hunter. He had a death grip on your hand, pulling you along behind him towards what you hoped was the docking hangar. You would have to cross the main street to get there, and as the pair of you plowed across the dusty, busy road there came shouts from either side. More hunters, fucking Guild! You didn’t have a single second to assess them before you were lead through an alley on the other side of the street. These were darker than the ones you had run through on the west side of town, and shady bodies moved quickly out of the way of your living locomotive.

At the end of a narrow alley you both burst through a door leading into an abandoned building. The darkness was almost worse than the blinding sunlight, you would need time for your eyes to adjust but the Mandalorian had enough sensory detection equipment that he ghosted through the ruinous building with ease; never once letting go of your hand as you tripped and stumbled through the dark. The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

“There! Get down!” Mando pointed at a pile of rubble, probably big enough to hide behind, but that’s not how you handled business.

“Fuck you! I’m not going down without a fight!” You pulled your blaster out and aimed at the incoming assailants. He growled at you and stepped closer, putting his body in between you and the door. The reptilian hunters burst from the darkness of the warehouse, firing rapid shots of blaster charges that bounced off of Mando’s beskar. You fired over his protective arm, taking out the first one and tripping up the second, who fell over his cohorts limp body. Mando took shot after shot to the chest, reeling with each impact. His other arm cocked back and shot out, sending a wall of fire into the last of the Guild’s hired guns.

Both of you were panting, shaking and sweating from flying through Mos Eisley, but the sound of blaster fire would draw attention and you knew there was no time to waste. You stepped over the incinerated corpse, making sure the fob it carried was melted, the second body still squirmed in the dirt, and you weren’t going to let it get a second chance, firing your blaster through it’s scaly skull. You picked the remaining two fobs and stuffed them in your pockets, making a run for it back through the building with Mando right behind, the blaze of his flamethrower lighting your way.

You took a different door out of the building and were relieved to see the words ‘HANGAR 3-5′ painted in bright blue Basic straight ahead. You skittered through the entrance, rounding the corner and dropping down behind the edges of the hangar doorway. Mando did the same on the other side, both of you pointing your blasters back towards Mos Eisley’s dark heart. Bootsteps behind you made you snap around, and you nearly shot your mechanically inclined host.

“You kids have fun out there?” Peli stood over where you were hunched, and you lowered your blaster to the ground. At her feet your little buddy was holding onto her pant leg, making big puppy dog eyes at you. You looked over to Mando to make sure there weren’t any more coming, but he still held his blaster out ahead. After a few tense seconds he lowered it down until it was back in its’ holster, then pulled himself to his feet.

“We can’t stay any longer, we’re putting you in danger. Time to go, kiddo.” His charred beskar still shimmered when he bent down to pick up his adopted son, who chirped with delight. “Thank you for watching him.”

“He can stay any time! Oh and thanks for all the snacks you made that droid bring me!” Peli called after the three of you as your party quickly boarded the Razor, making you turn around and stick your tongue out at her. She happily flipped you off and started closing the ground entrance to the bay, letting you board the ship uninterrupted. Fortunately, the courier droid’s delivery had made it to the ship, though you couldn't help but notice a few of your most carefully picked snacks had been taken as collateral. Fucking Peli. As much as she infuriated you, there wasn’t another person on all of Tatooine that you would rather play sabacc with.

The old rust bucket rumbled to life, taking off into the midafternoon sky and pointed towards the stars. Finally! Bye motherfucker. The hazy atmosphere of the outer rim planet fell away below you until the light of the bright yellow world illuminated the Crest’s stern. The pre-Imperial scrapheap started howling with noise, and you were almost thrown to the deck when it blasted into the safety of hyper space.

Your heart was still racing and you struggled to catch your breath. Once you had yourself in order you started busying yourself with putting the supplies away, filling the food larder to capacity. The child was contentedly telling you about his day with his auntie in his cute baby gibberish, and you picked him up off the ground to give him a much needed hug, pushing your stolen identity onto the top of your head to give him kisses. You almost wanted to ignore the sound of heavy armored boots hitting the floor panel under the ladder, their wearer opting to jump down from the cockpit rather than climb. You could feel the fury coming off of him as he stalked over to where you were sorting your treasures.

“You could have been hurt! I knew it was a bad idea to let you go wandering around, even with your face covered. What if they’d caught you? I picked three of them off before you even saw one!”

“I had it under control, Mando! I’m not some princess that needs you coming to her rescue at every sign of a struggle. And you don’t get to let me do anything, you don’t own me!” The man under your scrutiny paced the cabin on stiff legs with his hands on his hips, helmet snapping with rage.

“I know you can handle yourself, but I need to protect you.” He said with a huff, “And that lizard was... he had you pinned down, had his filthy, scaly claws on you... Nobody should touch you like that! What if.. what if he... I- I- didn’t like that he was...” Listening to the sound of the gears jamming in his head made you realize the ridiculous thing he was trying to say.

“Are you.. Mando are you jealous?”

“No! I- I’m.. Cyar’ika I... ”

Oh no, you don’t get to be cute right now. “I don’t know what that means, Mando! What is that, some kind of sexy little pet name you use on all the girls you take underneath of you?”

“NO! I didn’t- I would nev- I’ve never had... There’s never been- no!” Oh how you wished you could see his face, watching him flail trying to defend himself from your accusation, he was probably white as a sheet under all that armor.

“Never what, Mandalorian?”

“I’ve never had anyone in this ship before!” The Mandalorian’s confession lost steam halfway through as embarrassment and fear crept into his throat, threatening to choke him with his own secrets.

“Wait.. wait wait. Never? You’ve never had anyone in this ship or...” You started approaching him, analyzing his visor for hints of meaning. “Or you’ve never had anyone at all?” The Mandalorian stopped his pacing, but his shoulders looked like they were carrying the weight of the galaxy. His silence told you everything, and the last piece of his puzzle fell into place. “Mando...was I your first?”

“Y-yes.” His visor tilted up to you, hands fidgeting at his sides. His voice was faint and sheepish, a stark contrast to the thunderstorm you were arguing with a moment ago. Your eyes were full of questions, all racing through your mind so quickly none of them made it to your mouth. The metal man answered them all for you in one singular motion, raising his fist to knock a couple times against his beskar helmet. His creed.

“So, what, you guys aren’t allowed to have sex?”

He sighed his heavy, trademarked sigh and plopped down on the nearest supply crate with a defeated thud, cradling his head in his hands. “No it’s not that. Not... not exactly. In Mando’a the word we use is me'dinuir. It means ‘to give’, specifically to give yourself to another. And... when you give yourself away to someone-“ He turned the black gloss of his single eye up to you, “-you belong to them. That is The Way.”

The weight of his words made your blood cold. He was jealous, but not just because that other hunter had put his scaly hands on you. Everything about his attitude around you suddenly made sense, the way he had looked at you when you were presenting yourself to him that first day, why he never threw you in carbonite when he probably should have, and how he had stayed with you through the night after you nearly died hunting his bounty. His mysterious way of life decreed that giving his body to you meant that he had also given you his soul, and that made you just as important to protect as his foundling.

Mando reached out to pat the fuzzy green head of the baby you were still holding, who gibbered sleepily up at his armor plated papa. “I’m sorry to put that on you, and I’m sorry for how I acted. You’re not my bounty anymore, and I shouldn’t try to control you. I understand if you don’t want to continue with me to the next bounty. You can take whatever you want from the armory when we land next. I’m.. I’m so sorry.” The monolithic man looked so tiny now, sitting on the edge of the crate with his shoulders hunched. He reached his arms out to take his infant son from you, hugging him to his blast-burnt chest and smoothing his massive ears. "I didn’t get to thank you for washing him earlier, he smells really good.”

You desperately needed to know more, though the sight of him fawning over his sleepy son made your heart swell. “I kinda got the feeling that you were rusty when we met, but that was actually your first time? And what does that mean ‘you belong to them’? How can you belong to me? I don’t even know your name.”

"It means that I’m now sworn to protect the one that carries my soul. I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian.”

His words made you feel sick, ashamed that you had taken something so sacred from him without a second thought, but how could you have known? He could have stopped at any time, you were the one in cuffs that day, not him. No, out of trillions and trillions of sentient beings in the galaxy he chose to give himself to you, knowing full well what his heritage decreed. Why you? Arms crossed, you dug deeper. “You’ve never seen another naked body than your own?”

He shook his head. “Just... holo-vids...”

You were going to have to ask him about those later. “Nothing? You’ve at least kissed someone before though, right?”

“Kissed?”

Maker fucking help you. “Yeah you know, kissing? The thing you do with your... oh, right." You reached up and tapped him twice on the beskar. “You need your face to do it.”

He cocked his helmet at you. “Can you show me?”

The innocence of his question made you melt. Fuck you, tin can, you’re not supposed to be cute when you’re in trouble. You reached your hand out, demanding he give you his, and shyly he obeyed. You pulled his hand to your lips, unsure of how much he could actually feel through his thick leather gloves. You pressed his hand to your lips and watched his whole body snap straight. “Kiss, like that.”

He was staring at his hand like he’d never seen it before, and after a moment he pulled your locked fingers to his head, tapping his forehead with the back of your hand. “Kov’nynir, But we do it with our helmets.” At this rate you’ll be speaking Mando’a in no time. He still held your hand gently, running his thumb over your fingers. “I think I like your way better. Could... Could you do that again?”

So polite, maybe having him stuck with you wouldn’t be so bad. You pulled his hand back to you, giving him another soft kiss on the side of his thumb, and you heard the sound of his breath catching in his modulator. Your lips pressed to each of his knuckles, and then you turned his wrist to kiss his palm. “How’s that?”

“That’s amazing.”

“You like that? Watch this.” Addressing the bantha in the room would have to wait. You tugged his glove off, revealing the warm bronze skin underneath and kissed him again. The hitched breaths coming out of his modulator were honey to your ears, and you turned his wrist over to kiss his bare palm again, hunting for more sweet sounds. His body was so stiff, so tightly wound you thought he might snap. “Are you ok? Do I need to stop?”

“I- I- want to... Can... Can I try?” You nodded, your heart jumping to your throat at the thought of him removing his helmet in front of you, but instead he gently reached up to the busted droid face you still wore on your head. With a twist of a knob the armatures inside of the eye casings coiled shut, and when he slid the mask down into place you were thrown into total darkness. “Can you see?” You shook your head. “Promise?”

You sighed, long and frustrated. “I promise, dark as a sarlacc’s backside.” You were met with only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity you heard the sliding sound of metal as the child’s pram shield slid closed, then the shuffle of armor being removed, and lastly the dull thunk of something heavy being set down on the crates. His hand found yours again, and he pressed his lips against your skin. They were hotter than you were expecting, and soft, almost plush. You understood right away why he was so rigid when you were doing the same, it was amazing. Gentle kisses made their way over the back of your hand and made heat flood through your veins. He moved slowly over each joint, following the same pattern you had shown him, then turned your hand over and kissed at your fingertips. Something fuzzy brushed along with his lips, and you imagined that he might have a mustache. The shivers that crept their way up from your captured hand knocked all the strangeness of your conversation out of your mind, but when he reached your wrist he stopped.

“Where else do you kiss at?” You nearly fainted at the sound of his unfiltered voice, a rich baritone that dripped with dark intentions and stole all the words from your mouth. You could only point with your other hand at the forearm attached to the hand he held. Again you felt his lips on your wrist, then slowly, inch by agonizing inch he made his way up your arm, each kiss slower than the last until your toes were curling in their boots. When he reached the edge of the tunic’s sleeve that hung at your elbow he paused again. “Where else?”

“Everywhere.” Your tormentor hummed at your consenting words and let go of your hand to run his palms down your clothed thighs. When he reached your knees he pulled on their joints, bidding you to bring your legs up over his lap. When you were seated on him he resumed his trek up your arm, kissing at the crease of your elbow and then upwards over your tunic until he reached your shoulder. When he got to your neck you almost buckled over, but his hands were at your back in an instant, wrapping heavily around your waist. Your own hands made their way to the nape of his neck, and your fingers found the edge of his hairline that you had felt before. To your delight you felt that the tousled curls went all the way up, and you tangled your fingers in them, exploring their softness while he explored you.

His journey led him up your neck to the base of your jaw where he nipped gently at the sensitive skin like you had done to him last night, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps from your head to your toes. When his nose bumped the edge of your mask you were suddenly aware of how silly you might look with your big bug eyes. “Can I take this thing off?” you asked in a whisper. “I won’t look.”

“I have a better Idea. Hold on tight.” You dug your hands into his shoulders and felt his arms wrap under your legs as he stood up, lifting you with such ease that you wondered if he felt your weight at all. His boots echoed through the cabin until he stopped at the other end. You hung on for dear life while he climbed the ladder with you still wrapped around his front. When you both reached the top you let yourself unwind from him and scooted on your butt over the floor, listening to the sound of him pulling himself all the way up. You remained seated as your host fussed around the flight deck, the noise of buttons pressing and switches being thrown the only input to your deprived senses.

You were only unattended for a moment, then his hands found your waist, fishing for the edge of your shirt. The tunic was pulled up and over your head, taking your mask with it, and you squeezed your eyes shut to protect his modesty; unsure of what his unconventional oath to you included in the fine print. Your diligence was rewarded with a kiss on your forehead, then down to kiss both of your closed eyes, and then lastly to your lips. The searing heat of his mouth on yours threatened to throw your eyes open, but when they fluttered all you saw was darkness. The transperisteel’s blast shielding had been closed, and the only light in the cockpit came from a handful of illuminated buttons on the dash.

He was lying over top of you on the metal floor, one arm wrapped under your neck for support. The cold decking under you was uncomfortable, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, letting yourself be consumed by his kisses and becoming drunk on the scent of leather and adrenaline. The soft fuzz of his facial hair tickled slightly as he pressed into your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your hands went to his face, running your thumbs over his cheeks and feeling what you weren’t allowed to see. His face was scruffy but not unkempt, and the bristles went all the way from his jaw up to the bottom of the defined nose that bumped against your own. You felt the creases on the corners of his eyes, wishing you could see his smile lines and all the stories they would tell.

You kissed him back, letting your tongue glide over his plush lips and making him inhale sharply. You licked into him again, and this time you were met with his tongue as well, just the faintest touch of its tip. He hummed in your mouth, and the sound of him so close made your belly pool with heat and your kisses bolder, sending your tongue deeper into his mouth until he was almost vibrating with the sensation of you exploring something as forbidden as his human body. He mirrored you as best he could, rolling the smooth muscle over your lips and the edges of your teeth until you were both lost in each other’s taste. He pushed his forehead against yours, pulling his mouth away with frantic breaths that spread fire over your skin. “Everywhere?”

You pushed your lips against his again, giving him an ambitions ‘Mmhmm’ as an answer. His growl made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you realized where his goal was. He kissed and nipped his way down your throat, letting his tongue glide over your skin. He made his way to your breast, taking its’ tender tip between his teeth and making you gasp. He sucked at it gently, rolling his tongue around it while it grew harder for his efforts. The hand not under you groped at your free breast so it wouldn’t be ignored.

"Beep!”

An urgent chime echoed in the tiny space, the hyperdrive indicator was flashing its countdown warning: 10 minutes remain.

The Mandalorian’s growl on your breast made your blood turn to ice and your core flush with heat at the same time. He wanted to devour you, taste every single inch of your exposed skin, but time was not on your side; and he became a man on a mission to prove himself worthy of you. Bristles dragged over your skin as he slid down your belly until he hit the edge of your pants. They were yanked off so fast you briefly worried about the krayt teeth that were still in their pockets, but you didn’t have long to think before Mando was poised over the apex of your thighs, kissing at each leg to make his intentions known. Those must be some good holo-vids you’re watching, tinman. You let him push your legs apart with his chin, receiving a soft kiss on each one once they were far enough apart for him to stuff his face in between.

Your back arched, hard, followed by the most ragged moan you‘d ever heard escape your throat. The grip on your thighs kept you in place as he lapped at your clit, sucking and teasing in an experimental way. His inexperience didn’t seem to matter, his hunger for you fueling his efforts and making you squirm in delight. Your hands sought desperately for something to grab onto to keep yourself grounded, finding his lovely curls to bury your fingers in deep. It was all you could do to hold on for dear life, tangling in his hair and struggling to breathe as he worked you into a frenzy.

The noises coming from below your waist were heavenly, wet and greedy in between his hums of contentment. It took you a while to realize they weren’t hums at all, but alien words of worship being prayed at your sinful altar; but the blood pounding in your ears and the gasps from your throat were too loud for you to hear his devotion.

“Beep beep!” Five minutes remain. Fuck.

The Mandalorian’s efforts doubled, running his tongue almost too quickly in his attempt to eat you alive. You let your hips grind into his mouth, begging him to bring you your release, and it wasn’t long before he succeeded. Stars flashed behind your eyes as you came into his hot open mouth, but he refused to leave until he had drank his fill of you. Eventually he pulled his face away from your spent heat with agonizing slowness, as if he would rather drown than address the impending drop from hyperspace. He kissed at your shaky thighs, your soft belly, and each breast before pressing his lips into your panting mouth, pushing the taste of you onto your own tongue. His breath was ragged, and you could feel the sweat of his brow where it was pushed against your face.

He lifted away from you, and the weight of the handmade mask was draped over your face, making you groan with the displeasure of your passion being cut short. However, once it was in place, it was almost immediately pushed under by strong fingers to lift its edge, and you were given one last kiss to swear his promise of return to you.

“Din. My name is Din.”

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TAG LIST @mrsparknuts @cookiejuicedesu @mandoinevarro @kaermorons

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #self insert #bargaining with beskar

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alirhi · 3 years

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Loki ranting

Okay. I had this thought in my head of like just compiling links of all the Loki shit I've posted/reblogged so far so that when I get into a conversation about the show and how it fucking disgusted me, I can just be like "here. here's this masterlist post, go read all this shit. This is my entire argument, and not only mine, but a lot of stuff posted by people far more intelligent and level-headed and eloquent than I am, whom I happen to agree with." Because the alternative is constantly getting fired up all over again, and that is exhausting.

BUT! I'm stupid and don't know how tumblr works. Apparently I can't just be like "give me all the Loki-tagged shit I've got" I can only search all the Loki-tagged shit on all of tumblr. And I'm not scrolling back through all of my posts. I talk too fucking much for that shit 😂

So, I'll try to remember all of my grievances with how the MCU has treated Loki, and all of the excellent posts made by other, equally upset fans, and put it all together here under this nice, neat little cut for everyone else's sanity and scrolling convenience...

For people who actually read my shit fairly regularly - bless you, you crazy, patient people. I love you! - this is going to be a lot of repetition of shit you've already read. Probably at least twice. I'm passionate and I have a terrible memory lol. Sorry.

Anyway, first, for those who don't know me and haven't been following my explosions of rage for the past couple of months, some quick background: I do not read comic books, so Loki's Marvel comic canon means nothing to me. I know almost nothing about it. The reason I'm so in love with the character in the MCU is because I am an eclectic witch and the deity I've actively loved and worshiped the longest in my life (literally for as long as I can remember) is Loki. So when he was mentioned in The Mask, I squeed. When they named Matt Damon's character after him in Dogma, I cheered.

When Thor came out in 2011, I just about died from happiness. I was hungry for any representation of this underappreciated god, no matter what it was. I didn't even bitch about how underpowered he was, because at least he was there. But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself.

I can hear anyone reading this going "Why Loki? Isn't he, like, evil? Like basically the Norse version of The Devil?" Because I heard all this shit irl all the fucking time. And no. So let me give you a quick rundown of who Loki actually is.

Loki is a Trickster God. He's often referred to as the God of Mischief. He is not and never was evil, simply chaotic and hedonistic. Loki Laufeyjarson was the son of Laufey (that's mama; they changed her to a man for some reason in the movie) and Fárbauti. Right from the start, from his name, we get a sign of how Loki goes against traditional norms of the time, because in Norse culture, families were patrilineal, and surnames were "son/daughter of father" (which would have made him Loki Fárbautitason), not the mother. But Loki's surname is matrilineal. Feminist icon woo! lol

Though he's a Jotunn, Loki is counted among the Gods (Aesir) in Norse tradition. Depending on his mood, he is alternately helpful or disruptive to the other Gods. I'm not gonna sit and teach a whole text class on him lol but I'll use my favorite example of Misunderstood Loki - the conception of Sleipnir!

So, get this shit. This is also part of why I DO NOT follow Odin and never fucking will (a very small part, but still part of the reason). So, the other Norse Gods are petty motherfuckers, and they wanted some shit built but didn't want to pay the dude doing the building. So they were like "okay, if you can get it done in X amount of time, we'll pay you, but if you can't manage it NO MATTER WHAT, this whole thing is free." And they made sure he had NO help, nothing but him, his materials, and his Very Good Horsey. And this guy and his horse were fucking BAMFs. So it was looking like he was definitely gonna get it done in time, and Odin was like "nah, fuck that shit. I'm cheap." and so he sent Loki to distract the work horse. Loki transformed into a mare and lured the horse away, got fucked, got pregnant, gave birth to the 8-legged (for some reason) horse Sleipnir. Odin rides Loki's son into battle. Um. Kay.

So Loki helped Odin be a petty mf, and Odin got himself a new pet out of the deal.

Oh, also, because he's smart af and a shapeshifter and a master magician and genderfluid, Loki "fails" to fit the super fucking toxic and narrow Norse/Aesir view of "a real man". He prefers intelligence and manipulation to solve problems rather than violence, he's not afraid to behave like a clown if it gets shit done, and that grosses the Aesir out, so they constantly ridicule him for being "less than a man".

Loki is the God of the outcast and the misunderstood. The marginalized people from all walks of life. He is the God of the LGBT community. In modern terms, he's pansexual, polyamorous (married to Sigyn and they are deeply in love, but boy gets around and I've never seen any indication that Sigyn gives a shit) and genderfluid.

Okay. Focus, Ali. This is part of why I usually post multiple rants instead of one big long one XD The longer I ramble, the more I get sidetracked and forget the original point.

So. Loki's awesome, and being a Trickster, is powerful as all fucking hell. There's not much he can't do.

And now we come to Thor (the movie, not the deity). Loki's there! 24-year-old Ali is spazzing! All is right with the world!

Oh lord, they've actually done him justice?! Amazing! He's complex and nuanced and emotional, just like the real Loki! I loved this movie. Loved. It. The climactic thing with trying to blow up Jotunheim never really made much sense to me until someone made an excellent point the other day about Loki being raised in a racist society that was racist against his own race, he just didn't know it yet, poor child. Baby Thor was never corrected when he pledged to commit mass genocide, so Baby Loki probably absorbed the lesson then that Jotunns=evil and killing them all will win his father's love. Anyway, 2011 Loki was a beautiful, heartbreaking portrayal of the God I've loved all my life and spent 24 years longing to see depicted on the big screen.

Then The Avengers happened. And I saw another Loki very close to Norse mythology - mainly, how he's treated. In the beginning of the movie, he's sick, exhausted, and in pain. He can hardly stand, he stumbles and needs help when he walks. He was very obviously tortured, and the sickly blue light of the scepter's control is in his eyes. That gets less and less pronounced as the movie goes on, showing Loki working his way free of it, but in the beginning, he's a mess. Because he was tortured and used by Thanos. Marvel directly confirmed this, and that he was under the scepter's/Mind Stone's control. Loki's actions are not his own in The Avengers. He's under both threat and Thanos' direct control. The movie actually shows The Other directly threatening him to keep him on task, because this is not Loki's plan. It is not what he wants. He's being used and villainized... Just like in real life. It hurt to see this done to him, but the accuracy was too beautiful to ignore.

Thor: The Dark World comes out. I've heard people complain that this movie is the weak link in the Thor trilogy. I disagree. I think that's Ragnarok, for a bunch of reasons, but we'll get there. (And for the record, I loved Ragnarok, too. It was a funny movie. Infinity War and the Disney+ series are the only portrayals of Loki in the MCU that I truly fucking hated.) Anyway, good, fun movie. Had its faults, as all movies do, but it still followed Loki's real-life arc in a way. How? By having Loki dragged back to Asgard in chains and imprisoned underground. Again, not super happy that this happened to my love, and having to see it on screen was painful, but at least in the MCU he's not chained to a rock with venom dripping on his face for eternity, so there's that. (poor Sigyn. how tired do her arms get, holding up that bowl? best wife ever, amirite?)

In TDW, we're shown Loki's love for Frigga, who favored him and taught him magic as a child. We see his bravado; his attempts to mask his true feelings, especially grief. We see him slowly coming back to himself after the events of The Avengers, and slowly mending his relationship with his brother. He accepts that Odin will likely never love him, but Thor just might, because they were close when they were young. "I didn't do it for him." No, no my sweet, you did it for your brother, and a little out of guilt for what happened to your mother.

At the end, Loki fakes his death and escapes, taking the throne, and I have mixed feelings about this. Not the writer's choices here; I love that completely! A natural progression in Loki's story. But my joy is tainted by how closely they're following the Eddas now. Because Loki's escape from his prison heralds the beginning of Ragnarok. And Loki will die in Ragnarok. I don't want to see that play out in front of my face. I won't be able to handle the grief (spoiler alert! IW broke me. I almost walked out of the theater. Loki's death was legitimately fucking traumatic for me. I don't even care how pathetic that is. That grief was real, it was intense, and I still shake and cry when I think about it.)

Marvel announces that Thor 3 will be called Ragnarok. The internet treats this as a shocking revelation. I roll my eyes and mumble "duh" to myself and move on XD

Then they say Ragnarok will be a buddy comedy. I throw up a little in my mouth and no longer want to live on this planet. If they're going to make something called Ragnarok, could they at least treat it with even a fraction of the respect they've shown these characters thusfar? Jfc. I mean, I'll see it anyway, because I'm a whore for Tom Hiddleston lol. But come on, people!

I hated that they made Hel the long-lost older sister and Fenrir her fucking pet/attack dog. Those are my favorites of Loki's children! Hel is such an incredible badass that the early Christians named their dimension of eternal torture after her! They were terrified of her, to the point of naming the place that terrified them most after her. That's awesome! And Fenrir's just the best. I love wolves. Those two details, and Odin's retcon of "we're not Gods! ...lol, except your sister. she's totally a Goddess. and def gonna kill literally everything, so... good luck! byyyeeeee" pissed me off royally.

The rest was great. I genuinely liked this movie. Still do. And they finally used The Immigrant Song! That was pretty cool. If they'd thrown in Bring the Hammer Down and Thunderstruck, I might've called this movie perfect. XD

I wasn't totally in love with their portrayal of Loki in Ragnarok. Yes, the falling for 30 minutes line was funny, as was "I have to get off this planet" and "YES! That's how it feels!" And "Get Help" was funny as hell. But also, like... There is no way Loki would have been the dumb one in that first encounter with Hela. Also, he can teleport and project copies of himself and shit, so... He would not have been that desperate to go straight back to Asgard and bring her right along with them. Loki's not stupid. But whatever. Movie's gotta movie.

What I did love was seeing the slow mending of his relationship with Thor continuing, and the badass fighting on the bridge. I also loved that, like Real Loki, Movie Loki helped when help was needed, was quick and clever, and while he was carrying out the main plan, he was also planning ahead and grabbing the Tesseract. Yes, that drew Thanos right to them, but that's a whole other thing. Loki never would have left that thing on Asgard to be destroyed or lost.

And now Infinity War. Hooooly fucking shit. You know what? No. I'm not going into this. He was killed, years of character growth were erased forever, my heart fucking shattered. The end.

Endgame. IW hurt me so bad I didn't see Endgame until this year. I actually watched Civil War first (for context: I had actively avoided all Cap movies until this year because I fucking hate Steve Rogers. I find him insufferable. Did not realize what I was denying myself until I watched CW and finally saw the charms of Bucky. When he appeared in IW, I was so lost. XD I was like "...who dis? Murder Jesus?" also I just... didn't care. I was numb by then from crying through most of the movie over Loki)

So, anyway. Endgame. Loki picks up the Tesseract in alternate 2012, escapes, fans go "yay! he didn't actually die!" I go "yes he fucking did. Five years of his life, gone. Five years of growth and change, erased. Loki is dead. This will not be the same."

I was more right than I could have predicted. Now we come to the point of this rant. Sorry it took so long, but you were warned lol.

The Loki series makes me so angry I actually get sick to my stomach. It was fucking TRASH. When I praised Marvel for following Norse mythology so faithfully earlier? Yeah. I DID NOT MEAN TREAT HIM THE WAY THE OTHER GODS DID. I did not mean paint him as a pitiful clown, a joke, a caricature of who he truly was, with his pain and suffering played for LAUGHS.

This is supposed to be 2012 Loki, newly freed from Thanos' control. The Loki we saw in the beginning of TDW - snarky, exhausted, nihilistic. The Loki who rolled his eyes and said "get on with it" expecting to be killed.

The bumbling clown flipping on a dime from posturing to calling himself weak is not 2012 Loki. That is not ANY Loki. That is Tom Hiddleston in a black wig doing what he's told by a shitty writer who had no fucking idea what he was doing and was salty about his (bad) original script (for something totally fucking unrelated) getting killed.

In Episode 1, Loki is mocked, imprisoned, stripped against his will, tormented, belittled, and given a flippant summary of all the trauma Actual MCU Loki suffered that this one skipped out on, with no context, no acknowledgement of the trauma he's already lived quite fucking recently, and with the narrative twisted to not only erase all the abuse he's suffered, but to make it all his fault. And this is supposed to make him want to help these people?

And worse, IT FUCKING WORKS. WHAT?! I CAN'T- FUCKING WHAT?! Remember when I said LOKI IS NOT FUCKING STUPID?! So why is he STUPID?

Episode 2, he's a child. Mentally, this Loki is a fucking child. Now we've erased all the growth and development of his entire adult life. He's dopey, impatient, impulsive, desperate for a pat on the back and actually shows it. Yes, abused and neglected children crave the positive attention we never received, and we often grow up to be a bit emotionally stunted. But not all of us, and not Loki. Not as we've seen him EVER in the rest of the MCU. Playful and a bit callous at times? Absolutely! But not a big dumb fucking puppy.

Episode 3, a ray of hope, despite Sylvie! (I hate Sylvie) Loki casually admits he's pan/bi; labels never come up, but he admits to being with both men and women! He sings! Not really relevant to whether I approve of his portrayal or not lol but Tom has a beautiful voice, Norwegian ("Asgardian" lol) is a gorgeous, entrancing language, and I could watch that one bit on loop for eternity and never get bored. And then, finally, we see a glimpse - a glimpse - of Loki's power! He stops a falling building and pushes it right back up! Are we finally getting to see what he can really do? Will the next episode bring us Loki in all his glory?

Nope. 4 and 5 we see him mocked and pushed around and utterly irrelevant. Again. We see tiny reflections of what he could maybe theoretically do in other random Loki variants, but the "main" (lawl. main. it was the Sylvie and Mobius show. Loki was never the main anything.) Loki? Nothing. He wears his heart on his sleeve for no reason, bonds with the man who imprisoned, taunted, and gaslit him, is killed, and continues to be a moron and a joke. Always the clown. Always the dumb one. The one with the bad ideas. The inferior Loki.

Don't even get me started on that finale. I can't. This already took so much out of me. Fuck Marvel. Fuck this fucking show. I just... I'm done.

#loki #loki spoilers #loki series #loki negativity #loki hate #thor 2011 #the dark world #ragnarok #the avengers #infinity war #endgame #fuck sylvie #fuck marvel #fuck disney #this show sucked #ragepost #rant #long post #ali is angry

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arambleaway · 3 years

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Okay, so like Ace Attorney recently ate my brain. And I have never played any of the games. This is the true potential of the internet at work people. Anyway.

I keep thinking about my very specific images of Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth, and the relationship therein. This is gonna be a long one because I can't be assed to make it more coherent than the mess it is in my brain.

So. Phoenix is obviously from a very loving and supportive family except they absolutely loathe the law and law professionals. Phoenix is trans and his family is super supportive, allowing him to express himself even from a young age. Unfortunately, Phoenix's new teacher isn't so great. Is actually a bit of a piece of shit and has been isolating Phoenix and so the poor boy has spent the first couple months of being out being harassed by his teacher and classmates. And that is part of why the trial sticks with Phoenix so much. Because Miles stands up to not only the students, but the teacher and all of the vitriol they've been leaking as well. And he doesn't just drop Phoenix after. He still wants him around and as a little kid that shit sticks with Phoenix far longer than it does with Larry and Edgeworth. Also, unfortunately, if you've got one asshole teacher, you've likely got a few nearby, so Phoenix's family does their best to support him and they offer to transfer him and do what they can, but Phoenix as a child is afraid to move and never see Edgeworth or Larry again so he doesn't. And then when he starts writing letters, he finds he can't stop because they become confessionals of a sort and a place where he doesn't have to be on guard and can know that the person he is writing to is accepting of his identity even if he does wonder from time to time if maybe Edgeworth no longer accepts him.

Anyway, then canon, yada yada. Lets talk about Miles now. Miles is depressed, okay. And he writes that note (you know the one) completely literally. But here's the thing: Miles knows the trauma of finding dead bodies. Has probably seen the mess they leave, and doesn't want to cause more harm than he already has. So he writes the note and packs the pills/blade/etc into a suitcase and takes a flight to Europe where no one that knows him will have a chance to stumble upon him. The turnabout is this: on the plane over he gets into an argument with his seat buddy. Its no one important, but the key info on him is that he is in therapy and sort of off hand brings it up and Miles, who was not raised with a pleasant idea of therapists and such starts an unholy row with him, blatantly projecting his own insecurities and perceived weaknesses on this poor man. The flight attendants have to separate the two and the man spends the rest of the time in first class. Miles spends the rest of the flight getting dirty looks from everyone else. By the flight's end he is frothing at the mouth and the man's assertion that therapy is not something for the faint of heart has been burrowing under his skin. He gets off the plane and rather than immediately commit he thinks he might as well make the source clear and winds up at the empty von Karma estate. He spends the night with a blade on his wrist and voices in his ears. But he doesn't move.

He falls asleep and he wakes from a nightmare he can't recall and it is noon the next day. He doesn't eat, he doesn't move. He just lays there and thinks. He thinks about Phoenix, Franziska, His Father, von Karma, all the lives he's sent to prison after measuring them against a false scale, and he thinks of the man on the plane. He thinks of the things he said, the ring he noticed on his finger, and the husband that was brought up at some point in their altercation. He thinks a lot about what it means to be and Edgeworth and what it means to be a von Karma. He picks up the blade and he puts it in his suitcase. He starts to research Therapists. Because he is going to have the best therapist in the business if he is going to do this. (He just kinda goes for the one with the most academic accolades that is willing to do home visits or move of some shit, anyway) Miles Edgeworth starts therapy and it goes horribly. Miles hates it viscerally and he doesn't feel like his therapist understands. (Which they don't. They keep trying to convince Edgeworth to see and actual trauma specialist and find someone that he clicks with rather than coming back to them). His therapist is worth their name though, and Miles is actually hospitalized due to being a danger to himself. For all that he loathes this, it does eventually allow him to meet with an actual trauma specializing therapist and finally maybe understand what the big deal is. He still hates it, but he finds the therapist that actually suits him and things get a little better.

The first thing is he stops living in the von Karma estate. He admits its a bad place for him to be at the moment and so he moves closer to his therapist and gets a rental flat. Second he gets a new wardrobe. He's been using his stuff left at the von Karma home and all of it is his flashy very "von Karma" wear. So he goes and gets new suits tailored in his preferred style and he pays for them and wears them because he realizes he likes them and not because he is trying to emulate his Mentor. This step is especially a big deal because it is the first moment where he is able to really define who "Miles Edgeworth" is outside of the confines of the courtroom. In all this, of course, he is also figuring out who he is within the courtroom as well. After committing to his therapist and recovery, he goes back into Law in Germany and really tries to define why he still wants to be there. I like to think he spends some time in small courts as a defense attorney assistant while trying to redefine his place. Anyway, eventually Miles decides he wants to remove his old stuff from the von Karma estate. He might move in his new stuff but for now it is merely removing the old, giving him the space and option of a new start. In clearing his stuff he winds up in the storage space on the household and there he finds an old suitcase.

The suitcase is Miles's from when he first came to the household. Von Karma had told the staff to pitch it when they first arrived and apparently whoever was on duty that day was kind enough to save it for later. Miles has a bit of a breakdown on seeing it and has a rather sharp set back in his improvement. He finds himself staring at the knife again. Because he never put it away. He still doesn't. But he doesn't touch it, just looks. Miles fights his way back out of the hole and in doing so removes all of his things from the estate except that little suitcase. Its the last thing and he opens it to slowly deal with the contents. Most of it is children's clothes, some expired toiletries, but buried in the deepest part of the case, wrapped lovingly in an old bowtie is his Father's defense attorney badge. Miles doesn't have a breakdown this time (yay!) but he does spend the next week unable to sleep for the sheer intensity of his nightmares. He carries on though. He slowly and surely patches together who exactly Miles Edgeworth is and what he wants to stand for. And that little gold badge stays folded in the bow tie and tucked in the deepest corner of his latest suitcase. He throws out the knife.

Once again back to canon, he returns doesn't tell anyone shit, and slowly relearns Phoenix Wright and what that man means to him. Hazakura temple, all the gay vibes, until the disbarment era. Lets stop by Phoenix again, shall we?

Phoenix is disbarred and for the first so many years he is genuinely friends with Kristoph Gavin. None of this "oh i always suspected shit", he believes in Kristoph, because that's who Phoenix is. At this point Edgeworth is still in Europe and a large part of that is so that he can continue with his therapy. But he does drop everything to talk to Phoenix once he hears the news. He immediately knows that something is up because Phoenix would never and he believes in him more than anyone else and he is offering to do everything in his power to make this better because Phoenix is worth it and Miles love-- woah. that's a new emotion. what the fuck is up with that. So anyway Miles realizes that he has some less than platonic feelings and he wants to run back to Europe and his therapist and figure out what it all means, but above all Wright is his Friend dammit and he owes him so much. But on Phoenix's side, he sees how far Edgeworth is offering to go and he turns down all of the things that would cause Miles's life to be disrupted. He does accept the knowledge and shoulder to lean on that Edgeworth offers, but Edgeworth doesn't need to move continents or anything. Besides he has Kristoph here to help. And Miles kind of hates all of this situation, but he knows that he truly doesn't have the kind of knowledge and pull to really be of service not to mention his new discovery is not doing his health any favors. So he goes back to Germany and Phoenix stays with Kristoph.

Now Miles is in Germany figuring out how to manage complex emotions and romantic relationships, while Phoenix is working with Kristoph, who becomes Kris, who could maybe be more except Phoenix isn't sure it would be fair to him since he has become more than a little hung up on Edgeworth since he came back from Europe. And because when Edgeworth asks him to Europe he jumps with no forethought. He gets Kris to watch Trucy and jets off to spend time with Miles. They do their amazing duo routine and Edgeworth comes away from the encounter knowing that yes, he very much would like a romantic relationship with Phoenix. Okay. Now how to go about it. Meanwhile Phoenix gets back and sees Trucy and this is when he realizes that Kristoph is dirty. Trucy tells him about something she saw while she stayed with him and something clicks and Phoenix has a mild breakdown because of how much danger he just realizes she might be in. He calls Miles at some point during this and Miles talks him down. He falls asleep and in the morning he doesn't shave. He smiles and gets Trucy to school, then sits in the office and tries to figure out where he goes from here. That afternoon there is knock at the door.

Miles Edgeworth does nothing half way and has flown to Phoenix just to be able to help him figure out the next steps and comfort him. Phoenix is officially gone for this man. The two talk and scheme and eventually hatch their mad plan to rebuild the entire fucking system. Miles will use his distance to research and provide information, Phoenix will keep an eye on Kristoph and start building what he can here. In all of this Trucy's safety comes up. Phoenix actually considers sending her with Miles. Miles puts that idea to a stop real quick, though he does mention doing more visits and such. Trucy is very happy to hear about this and demands to go every time. Phoenix says something along the lines of it being more expensive for two people to fly and joking that it would be cheaper if they just let him keep her in his suitcase. This is how Miles Edgeworth returns to Germany with a solid plan for the future and one Magician more than planned. Trucy obviously sneaks into his luggage and somehow makes it with him to Germany. In doing so she finds the badge in his bag, and despite the intense scolding she gets, the two are finally able to really connect and bond as Miles opens up to her a bit about his Father and what he has gone through.

Eventually Trucy gets back where she belongs and despite a few more hijinks over the years things progress via canon. Edgeworth and Phoenix have both accepted their feelings but have yet to act on them as neither is in a position to properly be with the other as they wish. So they flirt and argue and love each other intensely as only the best of friends and trauma buddies can. It all pays off and Kristoph is arrested. Phoenix is innocent, but he is unsure about going back into law. In this case, Kris was kinda the last proof of where blind belief will get you and it isn't just a façade, Phoenix is a lot bitter at the larger world and himself. So he isn't in the greatest place mentally, and Edgeworth sees it. And for the first time he thinks about reaching out to someone. Especially because this is Phoenix not just a random stranger on a plane. Then he finds he has the option to take the Chief Prosecutor position, and he finds himself staring at his Father's badge. He thinks on the years and his growth, and he talks with his therapist. And he decides to move. He takes the new position and seeing Phoenix struggle so close he finally shares about therapy. Not all of it. Nothing really just that he goes and has since the year-they-do-not-speak-of and that he is looking for a new one in the city and maybe Phoenix would like to help him. Because he values Phoenix and his opinions. Phoenix does eventually wind up in a therapists office and it is a mess, but it helps.

The two reconnect more strongly than ever and shortly thereafter Phoenix agrees to take the Bar again. Miles supports him in this and watches as he struggles and groans but makes it through. And at the same time he watches him heal a bit from the atrocities of the past 7 years. When Phoenix passes he is over-joyed and that night finds him holding his Father's badge and slowly thinking. Turning the idea over and over he can't bring himself to ignore it. He walks up to Phoenix in the office the next day and with all the drama of a marriage proposal give Phoenix his Father's badge. Apollo starts to realize exactly what sort of shit he signed up for. Especially when Miles turns up a couple weeks later and attempts to strangle Phoenix with his own tie and demands having the badge back because What The Fuck. An Orca. You Absolute Dumbass.

This is the point where my ideas dry up. Because where I leave them is pining idiots that are actually doing pretty ok. I figure they eventually get their shit together, but only after inflicting immense suffering on their co-workers and the legal system as a whole with their obvious pining and flirting. I barely know Apollo but watching him suffer is just more amusing than it should be. Also Miles is Autistic and it actually is part of what allows him to bond with Trucy.

#ace attorney #narumitsu #wrightworth #holy hell #what the actual fuck.#this was just like #bouncing in my brain for a few weeks and wouldn't leave #why is it so much #maybe #i feel like i blacked out #seriously #what the fuck #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright

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