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spiderpussinc · 9 months

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are the 2099 comics THAT bad in terms of racism plus other weird writing choices??? i'm starved for miguel content and would like to read the original comic run but i keep seeing the debate of the original comics being problematic and/or downright just BAD bad (not to mention miguel is supposed to have mexican heritage but he's straight up a white redhead lol)

Some people may disagree but speaking as a latinx writer; it's bad because it is racist, yes! On multiple fronts!! And beyond that, it's also bad as a complete failure of comics structure and compelling narrative.

Longpost, on readmore;

I say this as a long-time capeshit reader, as politely as possible: Miguel's comics are a *paycheck* book. As in; a series a writer does monthly to be paid for it, but with middling aspirations and downright negative characterization depending on where their mood is.

The first few issues of his 1992 run are relatively complete and well-balanced, may even trick you into thinking this story is going somewhere; but that's only because they're the /character pitch./ Ill skip to the end and tell you upfront. That 1992 series ends with the implosion of the whole "2099" line of comics (an universe that included other books, like ghost rider, doom, etc, by other writers) due to dwindling public interest and mass cancellations. The end of that run is basically meaningless, since the whole thing got retconned - and even before that a guest writer had came in and made mistaken character reveals pdavid wasnt happy with and wanted to erase before the finale. The event book that wrapped up that universe was unironically, literally called -- "2099: Manifest Destiny."

Now, I don't like Peter David's writing. I think he's obsessed with the idea of building harems out of his female characters (when he's not fridging them, or making them act ~crazy~ to further alienate them from the protagonist) and it is the kind of grueling, joyless reading experience I can only describe as making you feel Oily Inside. This goes as far as multiple stalking plotlines, the inclusion of a guest appearance from AU s/x slaver Hulk in later years, Miguel's mother being strongly implied to have been forced into conceiving him by his real dad who's the evil CEO of alchemax, general torture painporn. His broader supporting cast is so interchangeable and disposable that they were literally disposed of.

In terms of the racism; I have mentioned how he uses cultures as tokens and does 0 research whatsoever. The way it feels and the way it is deployed is through a lens of Exoticism - tourism. Miguels suit is allegedly "a dia de los muertos costume" b/c pdavid seems to think that holiday is mexican halloween. In the orig book, you'll see plenty of broken japanese and stereotypical orientalist caricatures - after killing his first love interest, pdavid introduces a japanese girl who is unironically, literally named "Xina" (that pretends to be chinese on occasion) to fill in the vacant role. Miguel himself falls right into all the usual latino stereotypes — short tempered, drug addict, sex magnet "latin lover" (this last one also applied to his brother Gabriel, who for the longest time is characterized by just Going Through A Lot Of Girlfriends). And it's kind of insane bc he's still being drawn as a deeply deeply white man, but not even that takes off the burden of the racial microagressions!!! They're the only times pdavid seems to remember that heritage! Then there's the commemorative hanging page. Since you mention the redheadedness; thats another insane thing to me. He has 0% of irish in him. His dad is Blond. Who is this man?

Most of the info in the 2099 run is either revealed to be a lie midway thru (miguel is not mr o'hara's son, nor addicted to rapture) or completely retconned away to be rewritten in new runs. Different writers have tried to come in and do miguel in other team/event books but frankly nothing stands out and most of them get marked as alternate-miguels. Unfortunately, every time marvel decided to give another shot at spider-man 2099 they also brought pdavid back. The newer books were never a success, and theyre just as filled w/ the garbage i mentioned earlier (wow! Steampunk spider-woman is given to pdavid for *ONE* issue and instantly tonguekisses gabriel before leaving, so novel. More fridging ensues. Stalking. Etc.) 2099 as an *universe* has been retconned so many times Nothing is consistent and Nothing is set on stone and frankly i think they should make it an AU separate from main canon and build a whole new world already.

The art in the 2015 + runs consists mostly of tracing, and more of that oily weird feeling applied to fem chars. Perhaps you have noticed in this entire hate review have never once spoken about Miguel's heroic plots and memorable villains --- he has none. At least nothing I can remember or distinguish. (Interchangeable, disposable, etc) There is a vague inkling of "this is an anti-stabilishment spiderman, he fights against The Public Eye, the Corporation Cops!" at the start but much like his cultural illiteracy pdavid has no real insightful politics commentary, so that dissolves into the background in time. Its all buzzwords. All of his plotlines are solved in circuitous or soap operaish extradrama ways; and while some of this is present in other superhero comics, what stands out to me MOST is how utterly fucking joyless Miguel's comics are. It's like going through a slog on obligation. They genuinely gave me a headache every time.

ATSV does a great job of reinventing Miguel and rebuilding the parts of him that showed real promise. Being a different tone-swapped spiderman, futuristic, being more on the tech-science side of crime fighting. Him being a single dad with a daughter is also new. (And he is single! There is no singular mention of marriage or a wife anywhere, he's a geneticist, multiple spider-men we see in this movie were literal clones made in tubes - i am fond of the idea he's a transmasc dad but even if you think he's cis he could have made that baby himself. Adoption is also always there.) I think its very clear ATSV didn't want to bring any of pdavids major weird shit w fem chars to the big screen on the hopes that miguel gets rebooted eventually. I think he's gay. Nobody can prove me wrong.

On that note, Steve Orlando (queer writer, also wrote for DC's midnighter/apollo) did some of the latest 2022/2023 Miguel miniseries. Another reboot! Those were "2099: Exodus" and "Spider-man 2099: Dark Genesis" - i think its campier/trying to tackle superhero plots more head on and trying to do something wide wacky cast focused at Marvel's personal request, but Miguel's future is very up in the air rn. I do really hope they reboot him into something closer to ATSV with latines at the center soon.

What I always reccomend for people curious abt miguel: read his first 3ish 1992 issues, get a general feel and close the book as soon as you feel annoyed. It won't get better. Remember none of it is canon nor has been relevant in over two decades. If you want to know the wider context of his messy chronology, check out some of the 2099 "all comics" type of youtube videos, theres some pretty easy to digest summarizations if u dont wanna waste ur time reading stuff that just got retconned again lol. Most writers now are operating on vibes and that is a freedom you should also allow yourself in your own fanwork.

Putting his panels out of context can be very funny though. (For further curiosity or tangents, there's always my meta tag)

#meta tag #asks #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv #my spider stuff #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #marvel comics #spiderman #itsv #2099

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corpsekittin · 1 year

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Finding Patriotism

Thank you to @rozza22365 for helping write this story.

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Preston entered Starbucks. He looked around and saw the place was crawling about with military men and cops. Recently this Starbucks had opened in his town, with special deals and drinks for military personnel. Since its opening only two weeks ago, there had been a surge in uniformed military men in the town, to such an extent that they had begun construction of a small base nearby. Preston found this all problematic for him. Since starting college he had been awakened to the crimes and problematic nature of the military. And now he watched as his town was somehow being slowly transformed into a military town. Each table was either full of military guys or was at least half occupied by them, on top of that the two in front of him and even the fucking barista was a part of the military.

The more Preston looked at the guys, even catching some faces he thought he knew, infuriated Preston. He wanted to, no he needed to get his local political clubs and classes prepped and ready to start protesting and wrecking this place, so that he could educate all these toxic douche-bros on their wrongness. It wouldn’t be the first time either, since he was quite well known throughout many liberal and leftist circles as being one of the best protest and counter protest organizers. He texted his group chat, telling them to get ready for a protest later. He needed this place gone asap.

‘Yuck’ he thought as his eyes wandered around and found a group of guys pretending to kiss each others bi’s as they flexed. They were obviously queer baiting, another problematic issue with these toxic bro’s. Although, as much as he hated it, Preston was now sporting a chubby boner in his trousers, which he tried to very quickly hide. It was his turn in the queue next and that didn’t help his situation. The guy was an old friend, who he had thought had been a part of his old protest circle. It seemed he too had given in to the military, falling to such depths. Although he also had an effect on Preston’s boner, as he was flexing his big bi’s as he served.

“Hey, traitor. Can’t believe you joined the group of dumbfuck bros we would protest against. Hurry up and make me my coffee, you make me sick”

“I want a venti mocha latte with extra whip cream and a shot of espresso." he said

“Sure thing, bro,” he informed, rolling his eyes and sounding slightly annoyed by Preston’s tone. He watched as the toxic muscle stud prepared both his drinks. Although during the process he saw him add something different to the drinks.

“Here ya go, and that's free for you” The barista offered. Preston was taken by surprise at the lack of a charge, but anything free was an instant grab. As he left the shop with his drink, he gave a look of disapproval at the military guys, but as walked past each one, he missed as sharp and sly grins popped onto each of their faces.

As Preston left he turned a corner and found his usual lunch spot. He sat down, and looked about, the area was empty as he liked it. He took out his drink and gave it a sip. It tasted amazing. He took out his phone to check his group chat, but before he switched it on, he took another, longer drink. As he felt the drink go down his gullet, he felt a strange sensation across his body. He watched in awe as muscle began to break out across his body. He felt a 6 pack bubbled fourth, only to be overshadowed by two hulking pecs which expanded the size of his body. He couldn’t resist but to take another drink, this time he left very little in the cup. His arms then began to pulse with growth, as his bi’s began to strain his shirt apart. His knuckles cracked and hardened as they grew brutish and hard from lots of hard work in the gym, and the field. The pulsating then fell down his body, right down to his feet. His thighs and calves stretched out, sending him up in height, while muscle bloated across them. He felt his head twist and reshape itself. His facial hair receded into his skin, and his hair shortened down into a typical military cut, with shaved sides.

Preston grabbed his head as a searing headache shot right through it. Years of drills, pt and military education forced their way right into the front and center of his head, squashing any other education besides high school stuff, which was severely reduced from straight A’s to C’s. His name was forgotten, instead he went by the name Trevor. He was no longer a political activist. Instead, Trevor was a typical high school jock, raised on local conservative values. He was a patriotic guy with simple interests, so when the marines came by one day at town and started shooting off guns, he saw no other option than to join. He loved all of it, even if some of the leadership were anal about stuff, his bro’s were the best and they did a load of cool shit together. Being in uniform and a total muscle stud, while following his conservative beliefs, even if it strayed a few times from them, he couldn’t help but feel like the peak of masculinity and being a real man, unlike those pansy libtards who dressed all gay. All he needed now was a good house-wife to fill up with his seed.

He looked down to see himself smartly dressed in his uniform, his sleeves rolled up and tightly clinging for dear life to his muscles. He returned back to the parking lot, walking past the starbucks. As he did he caught the glimpse of some chick just finishing a jog. Seeing her, he touched up his hair and uniform to make himself extra smart, no chick could resist a guy in uniform. She fell under the spell of the man in uniform quickly and he got her number. The pair parted until their next meeting, but first Trevor needed to get to the base he was assigned at for the week. He found his way to his F-150 truck and started the engine. He drove to where he was assigned for the day, happily living his new, better life.

#gay to straight #dumber #liberal to conservative #military

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argumate · 3 months

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I was a fan of the once feminist blogger Sady Doyle back in the day, now still feminist but it's complicated blogger Jude Doyle, so I wrangle their words with only the kindest of wishes and I know they are perpetually Going Through It, but I still think they're being curiously oblivious in most of this post about erasure etc.

even just the narrative arc of "I was a feminist because traditional gender roles made me uncomfortable", like yes it's good to dig into the emotional underpinnings of your beliefs, and it can be an important part of figuring out what it is you "really" believe or what beliefs you end up settling on or converging to, but obviously something making you uncomfortable is often a terrible foundation on which to build a lifetime of political advocacy! and I don't even need to spell out the issues with that.

and yes lots of people are mad at them, of course, people are always mad at them and always will be even if the stated reasons may shift and vary, so this isn't exactly news, as distressing as it can be to witness, and of course you can't really base your politics on "people get mad at me on the internet", especially when your job is basically to make people mad on the internet, when it comes right down to it.

brief appreciation for "I obliquely subtweeted my mother," as a beautiful sequence of words.

they are of course obliged to state that "misandry" doesn't exist, but that stereotypes of men as predatory, hulking, and violent do exist, and thankfully must not lead to any kind of prejudice or negative outcomes that could be considered problematic; it's a strange assertion but a compulsory one.

they find that the writings of most cis male feminists are useless, but fail to identify why, and take them at face value instead of considering why there might be a supply of and a demand for such nonsense.

and of course, they still write in the same manner as they always have: of deriving general assertions from their specific experiences, which is arguably all that any of us can ever do and yet when expressed directly in thinkpiece form is still an intensely gendered, female-coded, way to write; when your topics are the socially constructed notions of "men" and "women" then you have to be aware of this!

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theoutlawfaleena · 6 months

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the king & the siren

könig x gender-neutral sniper!reader

warnings cod-typical violence, blood, probably military inaccuracy bc i have no idea what i'm talking about [cries]

tags unhinged könig, sniper reader, some mild tension, backstory leading into something more 👀, könig is unhinged but he's not rlly a red flag?, u just gotta read it to know what i'm talking abt bro, forced proximity but without the forced

i have nothing to say for myself. just have this as a peace offering

As an operator working under the private contractor known plainly as KorTac, your job is simple. You go where you're ordered to go, shoot whomever you're ordered to shoot, and then you pack up your things and wait for the next job. It's an uncomplicated existence, and it's all-consuming. It takes you by that invisible chain that anchors you to the earth and yanks you into the dirt, over and over until you learn to harden yourself, to spit the grit from your mouth and catch yourself before the fall ever comes.

The pull of the chain is something you have long since become familiar with. It comes with each body you drop, each bomb you set off, each grenade pin you pull off with your teeth where the metal bites into your tongue and fills your mouth with the taste of pennies. It turned you into the Siren, a sniper who grabs the attention of enemies with light hums and short whistles and embeds a bullet in their skull once their curiosity brings them close enough.

For a while, you did not think you could live without the pull of that chain; though harsh it may have been, it was a sole companion in a way of life that left no room for companionship.

Then, like some kind of cruel joke played at the hand of whatever force dealt you sour luck, that kid from Austria was recruited to the team.

He couldn't have been any older than twenty-five upon his arrival, standing at a mountainous six-feet-ten-inches with a body that swallowed up the space in doorframes, and it was not even his height that stood out as the most notable thing about him; rather, it was the dark sniper hood draped over his head to conceal his face, only cut to reveal wild eyes that looked anywhere but the eyes of others. It earned him plenty of barking shouts from your superiors, ordering him to look them in the eyes when he was being spoken to.

He went by König, meaning "king."

You did not give him long.

And much to your surprise, he lasted.

You learned that he had been a Jagdkommando with his native Austrian army, placed in the position of an insertion specialist. He was vying for a spot as a sniper, but those above him had quickly come to the conclusion that his hulking size and a rather problematic inability to sit still would not work in anyone's favor, and his aspirations had been rejected. His immense size and strength made him an ideal battering ram, however, and that was precisely what he was appointed to do.

Of course, such stories were only rumors that flew from the mouths of your teammates, for another thing you learned was that he did not speak; not to any of you, anyway. He spoke on the field, and that was that. You were not keen on prying information out of him yourself, for what business of it was yours?

As if the universe was crafted to laugh in your face when you needed it least, his business became yours when he was made one of your mission partners during an operation carried out in Berlin.

Al-Qatala fighters had a cell there, holed up with hostages they intended to traffic and force to do God-knows-what. Your mission was easy. Eliminate the fighters, free the hostages. You had seen it done countless times before. König and the others would be at your side, ordered to break through doors and gun down hostiles who stood in your way. You would open the mission with first contact, stationed just close enough to lure the enemy to your position and make the first kill. Your team would follow, and the holding cell would be breached. The rest was supposed to fall easily into place without a hitch. You'd done this time and time again; the chain pulls, and you stand fast.

Muffled voices moved in and out of the seized townhouse. Al-Qatala, no doubt. The air stunk of cigarette smoke and what was left of bombings to keep any hostiles at bay. Every now and then, a cry from a hostage would ring out, only to be followed by a shouting order or a sickening crack indicative of someone being fiercely struck with an open hand. That day, the entire city of Berlin held its breath, and so did you. It sat heavy within your chest, suspended at the base of your throat where you felt your heart thumping.

You waited for your team to gather into position. When the signal came through, the garbling through your earpiece, you finally swallowed. You readied your rifle, lifting your head and gazing through the scope at the shadows that moved across the windows.

You began to hum. Die Zauberflöte; the Queen of the Night's aria, a high-pitched staccato that came in short breaths. For one agonizing moment, the entire earth fell still.

A window broke; glass shattered. The air whistled as a bullet cut through it and flew past your head. On instinct, you flattened yourself to the ground immediately. The shot sounded moments later, ringing in your ears. A spray of warm liquid cast itself across your face. All hell broke loose at once as shouting and screaming arose from within the townhouse, along with the unmistakable sound of doors slammed open as a heavy body made quick work of them. Your team; you could hear your team joining the cacophony of noise. Gritting your teeth, you picked yourself back up and stared through the scope, eyes searching madly for their hidden gunman. The broken window offered a better view, enough that you could see a black-clad mass powering through the bodies inside. Your heart pounded in your ears. This position was doing nothing for you. You had to move.

Teeth grit, you vaulted down the nearest fire escape and broke into a sprint towards the townhouse. The door was left in shambles from the number that the Austrian had done on it, but you had no time to be impressed. Shrieks of horror and shouted commands drove you forward and you held your weapon out before you.

"Look alive!"

It was a call to your team, an indication that you were there. Leaving your station was not a common occurrence but you'd been left blind and of little help to them. The stench of blood was an immediate assault to your senses; it was a grisly scene, bodies of Al-Qatala fighters littering the floor riddled with bullets or with cut throats. Your team. You followed the screams of hostages, stepping over bodies that you didn't recognize as you sprinted downstairs, your rifle at the ready.

You anticipated that the bodies of your teammates would greet you, thrown to the wolves due to your inability to find the gunman. Blood pooled at the bottom of the stairs and you ran through it, turning the corner to find your team, seemingly safe, and yet stunned into a silence. Only the weeping of hostages could be heard. You opened your mouth to alert them of your presence, but stopped at the sight that awaited you.

Blood dripped from the hood of the Austrian. König. It soaked through the fabric and painted the exposed skin around his eyes a horrific shade of red. They were wide, and wild; he looked at you like a wolf poised to attack, and you imagined sharp teeth bared beneath the hood that sent a chill throughout your whole body.

He regarded you for only a moment, then turned his back on you to face the Urzik hostages, held within a cell crafted by the fighters. They cried out at the sight of him and drew closer to one another, even when the door creaked open and he allowed them an exit.

"Follow me," He said, and they flinched at the sound of his voice. At once, one of your teammates stepped forward, pulling his mask down to speak to them in a language they could understand. You didn't know it yourself, but you knew when the hostages reluctantly began to follow after König that something had been said to convince them he was there to help them despite his ghastly appearance. Falling in with the rest of your team, you gently guided hostages forward and out of the townhouse into the open air outside. Once the area was declared clear, emergency personnel on standby flooded the area with helicopters and cars to assess the damage and tend to the wounded and traumatized. The noise was a buzz in your ear, punctuated by a stinging pain that dominated the entire right side of your head from the ear to your jaw. Wincing, you raised your hand to your face, and it came away slick with blood.

You were acutely aware of the gaze bearing into you, but you did not acknowledge it until then. You lifted your head and met König's eyes. He stood an arm's-length away from you, a terrifying blood-soaked vision that studied you silently. You thought for a moment that he was looking directly at you, and it surprised you; however, you quickly realized he was trained on your ear.

"You're bleeding," He finally commented.

You bit back a laugh. It was funny, coming from someone who looked like he did in that moment. Hearing him acknowledge it worsened the pain, and you almost wished he hadn't pointed it out.

"Good eye," You replied.

If it amused him, he didn't show it. His eyes did not betray him for a second, but you had a feeling that yours did. Pain coursed through you like a red-hot blade pushing into your skin. König searched for something amidst his gear. When he closed the distance between you and himself, you had half a mind to back away, but when a bundle of gauze was placed to your ear, you instinctively reached out and grabbed his arm to steady yourself, sucking in air through your teeth.

You swayed lightly, but he stood like some kind of great oak, unmoving. His skin was hot to the touch, and it reduced the pain in your head to a dull throb. Swallowing, you reached out and held onto his arm with both hands.

"Where'd you get that?" You asked. Not that it mattered, but you certainly didn't have gauze in your gear at that moment. He paused, and you felt him shift against you.

"Borrowed it," He said. "From Sanitäter."

The way he said it suggested that "borrowed" may have been stretching the truth. Though it was painful, a smile pulled up at the corner of your mouth; you lifted your head to look at him and found that he was already looking at you. Blue. His eyes were blue, though the bloodstains around them made them seem starkly white.

You stumbled, and he steadied you. Quickly, you murmured an apology and dropped your head again, fixing your eyes on the ground.

König's eyes were blue.

You could not shake the way he looked at you, and you did not know why.

#könig #könig x reader #könig cod #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mw3 #so uhh it's been a while #i leave y'all with this as a way of saying hi i'm back #i literally started this forever ago #anyway i want this to develop into a series #like a slow burn type thing #but i have no idea how the military works #so we're gonna wing it #anyways uhm #LOVE YALL #theoutlawfaleena

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jor-elthatendswell · 7 months

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It's a well worn topic at this point but the imminent release of The Marvels has me thinking about how militaristic the Marvel Cinematic Universe is, with Monica Rambeau aka Photon, a habour patrol member in the comics, reimagined as a captain in the US Air Force.

She follows Hawkeye, who was changed from an argumentative former circus performer with a heart of gold (a character so staunchly against lethal force he once revoked his own wife's Avengers membership because she sort of, maybe, subconsciously allowed a villain to fall to his death) into a hard-nosed black ops assassin.

Sam Wilson/ Falcon made his celluloid debut as an army man with twin submachine guns attached to his wrists. It’s a far cry from his print counterpart’s introduction as a social worker by day who uses his skill at falconry to protect his neighbourhood.

If we allow the argument that modern cinema goers are accustomed to a sprinkling of realism to make their superheroes palatable (and it’s a strange argument really- why should realism be a desirable quality in summer blockbuster escapism?) then what actually constitutes “realism”.

Sure, a man who learnt uncanny skill with a bow and arrow growing up with a travelling show couldn’t possibly hold his own alongside Hulk or Thor in the real world (and, yes, there isn’t a Hulk or Thor in the real world; as I say, this is a strange argument), but if he learned those exact same skills in some kind of military context then that somehow passes the bar for realism? The sinister upshot is that these children’s heroes become more warlike just as, globally, they reach more children than ever before.

Increasing the realism of superhero stories only serves to make them problematic. DC Comics' Batman, who is the frequently subjected to “realistic” treatments, is the prime example. If, in real life, a billionaire tooled himself up with the best weapons and body armour money can buy and began dispensing violent “justice” with no accountability, then of course that wouldn’t be a good thing. If they wore a costume with pointy ears and started calling themselves “Batman” then of course we would question their sanity. But Batman isn’t real; it’s a story. Nobody thinks The Muppet Show advocates animal cruelty. Quite the opposite, if anything. ("Not unless they're watching it", as Waldolf once heckled) Yet if a filmmaker decides they’re going to make a “grounded and realistic” remake where Fozzy is played by a real live bear wearing a pork pie hat and spotty necktie, then that's a whole other story. Suspend your disbelief and superheroes are less like the police or army and more akin to volunteers and activists, doing what they can with what they have to improve the lives of those around them. Their actions take the form of crime fighting only because that’s what makes for exciting colourful adventure stories for children.

In the MCU, even Marvel’s poster boy, Spider-Man (another champion of non-lethal solutions, known for his compassion even to his enemies and who possesses an enduring appeal to young children) is given a literal sheen of the military-industrial complex in the form of “Stark Tech” armour, replete with military grade strike drones. Tony Stark even thought to equip his 15 year old protégé-cum-child soldier with an “Instant Kill Mode”. In a moment played for laughs in Spider-Man: Homecoming, Spider-Man rejects his on-board AI's attempt to activate this feature but seems untroubled that such an option exists and, indeed, come Avengers: Infinity War, he voluntarily deploys it. It’s not clear if Spidey actually does kill any of his alien adversaries, but it seems reasonable to assume that one doesn’t say “Activate Instant Kill Mode” without the intention of ending lives. Fans are expected to smile or applaud as Spider-Man says these words, recognising the call-back to Homecoming, rather than find it a gross misrepresentation of Marvel’s most beloved character or an alarming depiction of a children’s favourite.

The MCU Avengers as a whole are a US government “initiative “. The reluctant superheroes need to be cajoled into putting their differences aside for the greater good by army top brass Nick Fury. In a tweak from the source material, the ‘H' in Fury's organisation, SHIELD, stands for ‘Homeland’, making SHIELD as explicitly American venture as opposed to it being ostensibly intergovernmental in the comics.

There is a comic book precedent for this military take on Earth's Mightiest Heroes in the form of The Ultimates, a 2002 series by the British team of writer Mark Millar and artist Bryan Hitch. The Ultimates ,however, was satire. Millar was an unreformed lefty of the old school – someone who has boasted of voting Brexit for left-wing reasons, someone who once appeared on Russia Today as a guest of George Galloway. The Ultimates took swings at the gung ho jingoism of post 9/11 America. Captain America's “Surrender!!?? You think this letter on my head stands for France?“ is not supposed to be a badass one-liner, but rather a parody of the kind of things US media outlets were saying as Jacques Chirac proved less keen than Tony Blair to follow George Bush in bringing gunboat diplomacy to the Middle East. As Millar commentated at the time:

“The Ultimates is completely different because it's a character-driven piece and (something only a few people have noticed) my attempt as a left-wing writer to tell stories about an essentially right-wing concept and cast. It's very much the Anti-Authority, if you will. Captain America and so on are fully-paid members of the US military machine and this means a very different book and approach from a gang of slightly arrogrant, left-wing, superhuman utopians like The Authority ".

Wildstorm Comics' The Authority, which both Millar and Hitch worked on (although not together), was a precursor to Ultimates, featuring a team of similarly “any means necessary” heroes, albeit with a left-wing bent. The Ultimates does have something of The Authority’s utopian streak; Nick Fury and Tony Stark genuinely want to make the world a better place for everyone. It’s very idealistic – what if the head of the military and the biggest tech billionaire actually had the people’s best interests at heart? – and arguably closer to true superhero ethos (basically “with great power there must also come great responsibility “) than those characters more pragmatic MCU equivalents.

Yet, as Millar's one time writing partner Grant Morrison (who actually ghost-wrote at least one issue of The Authority under Miller’s name) observed in Morrison’s major nonfiction work, Supergods, the likes of The Authority, The Ultimates and, by extension, the MCU represent a “capitulation” to the view “that it was really only force and violence that got things done and not patient diplomacy, and that only soldiers and very rich people had the world figured out”. If the MCU is realistic, then it’s a sad indictment of the real world where the heroes are the ones with the best tech, the best guns and no compunction about using them.

Regardless of intent, The Ultimates left a door at Marvel’s “House of Ideas” just enough ajar to allow a malign notion to creep in: “These soldier superheroes are pretty cool. What If they were like that all the time? Wouldn’t they be more popular then”?

Certainly the navy SEAL aesthetic Bryan Hitch brought to the costumes (replacing the colourful tights and capes with pouches, straps and body armour) was soon adopted by superhero tv and film productions even pre-MCU. In fact, Hawkeye's journey from carny to commando mirrors the changes in superhero attire. Most famously, Superman's appearance with the red “overpants” derives from that of circus strongmen, but seeing any photography of early to mid 20th century carnival and circus performers makes it clear the early superhero creators had them in mind when they first put pencil to paper.

In an interview (found in Marvel Spotlight: Captain America, published in 2009) Hitch related how he showed an initial Ultimates drawing of Captain America with a machine gun to Grant Morrison, which Morrison then “described as the most obscene Captain America image [they’d] ever seen”. (NB: Morrison has since adopted gender neutral pronouns). Perhaps Morrison said this with glee, in on the joke with their friends, but in the years since, Cap with a gun became a common sight, even in family-friendly movies (where it was divorced from the irony of The Ultimates).

By a 2015 interview, Morrison lamented the fact that “the Avengers work for the government, and it's been like that since Mark [Millar] did The Ultimates” and said they were “bored with the idea that the best superheroes can represent is some aggressive version of the military. [...] They're supposed to be champions of the oppressed, they help ordinary people, they make things better for people. They don't prop up our grotesque, doddering culture of war and aggression”.

That same year Morrison introduced a new comic book superteam in the pages of The Multiversity. Pointedly the text likens this group, named “Justice Incarnate”, to a “cosmic neighbourhood watch” rather than any formal military or law-enforcement institution.

Millar himself reunited with his Authority collaborator Frank Quitely to create the comic Jupiter’s Legacy, which comes across in part as an apology for The Ultimates and all it begat. It concludes with the protagonists, Chloe Sampson and Eddie "Hutch" Hutchence taking up superhero mantles and promising not to make the moral compromises of their predecessors:

“No more bowing to authority and insitutions. No more deference to people in power”.

“There's a dignity in public service we mistook for old-fashioned, and a humility in having a secret identity, living among the people we protect.“

The Avengers, Marvel’s breakthrough billion dollar box office 2012 movie, by contrast, concludes with Iron Man dropping a nuclear bomb on the “Chitari”, an invading alien army and it seems likely this influenced Morrison’s comments on modern superhero stories.

In Supergods, Morrison

describes their childhood dread of nuclear weapons. The child of “ban the bomb” activists, the “gruesome hand-drawn images of how the world might look after a spirited thermonuclear missile exchange” which illustrated their parents anti-nuclear literature struck terror into the young Morrison. Therefore they seized upon superheroes as being an idea powerful enough to counteract – and overcome – the idea of the bomb.

“It’s not that I needed Superman to be “real,” I just needed him to be more real than the Idea of the Bomb that ravaged my dreams”.

Within the narrative of the movie, Iron Man takes the only option available to him to save New York. Destroying thousands of alien lives to save thousands of human ones. But The Avengers isn’t a documentary; the scriptwriters could have written a satisfying denouement which didn’t involve mass murder. They could at least have included some words of regret by the heroes over what it took to win, acknowledging that killing is not the ideal solution. Instead the Avengers trade banter and eat shawarma, collective conscious clear.

There is a moment in another Grant Morrison work, Final Crisis, which always brings the MCU to mind. In Final Crisis #3, drawn by JG Jones, (published in 2008, the same year the MCU began) “evil gods” from a higher plain of existence have been reincarnated on Earth. In order for the Justice League to counter this threat, a “draft for Superheroes” is implemented. Green Arrow (a Batman-a-like character who was subsequently reinvented to embody the countercultural sentiment of the late 1960s and has since served as the social conscious of the superhero set) responds to receiving his draft notice thusly:

“If anybody falls for this authoritarian, militaristic crap, it’ll prove I’m absolutely right about absolutely everything!... “

Cue the next page, where the drafted heroes have gathered en mass (including Green Arrow, impotently shaking his fist.)

Such an assemblage of characters in usually a triumphant moment in a summer "event" story, but here is framed as a sign that evil already has it’s hooks into reality. This world has fallen to the darkness and the superheroes who inhabit it are too morally compromised to realise it.

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tepkunset · 2 years

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Who is Sabra and why are comic readers worried about her introduction into the MCU?

(Making this because I actually have receipts for her problematic writing to back up statements already made, mostly)

[Content warning for racism against Arab peoples, especially Palestinians]

Ruth Bat-Seraph, AKA Sabra, is an Israeli superhero who was introduced in 1980, first appearing as an antagonist to the Hulk. When she’s not acting as a superhero, she’s a policewoman. She’s named after the Hebrew word for the pear cactus, per editor’s note in Incredible Hulk vol. 1 #256.

Her being a policewoman is cringe, but she’s not the first or last Marvel hero to have such a job for her alter ego. No, what has people concerned is that she’s always been written as a racist bitch.

In Incredible Hulk vol. 1 #256, Bruce Banner tries to help a homeless Arab boy who ends up getting killed in a bombing. Sabra mistakes the Hulk as working with the bombers and attacks. Hulk gets mad and goes on a super-cringe anti-Islam and anti-Judaism rant, saying religion is the cause of the boy’s death. And somehow this leads Sabra to an epiphany that “oh yeah, this boy is a human being!”

So that’s some really bad/dated writing, but you can at least say the intention for character growth was there, right? Show this state-sponsored superhero that her government has taught her wrong. Too bad she learns absolutely nothing long-term from this.

In Marvel Super Hero Contest of Champions, all she and the Arabian Knight contribute to the comic is arguing with each other. He’s written as an antisemitic and sexist pig, and she’s written as a racist jerk who refuses to work with him on account of him being Arab and comments (paraphrasing) “that’s just how it’s always been between our people”—Iron Man makes an inappropriate joke about this, of course.

In New Warriors vol. 1 #58-59, she appears again. Justice has a lil bit of a crush on her, and the story starts seemingly innocent… until Batal, a Syrian hero shows up, and then it’s back to the same bullshit. She advocates for his murder because “The Arabs” killed her son. Batal argues that she shouldn’t generalize an entire group of people like that, but she refuses to listen and calls him “child-killer”. Things escalate thanks to mind-control, but she cannot pin that on mind-control. That’s just her being awful.

But this is all old stuff. Let’s fast-forward to some more modern comics, where surely she’s much better, right? NOPE. Because in Union Jack vol. 2, Sabra can’t even make it through her introduction without accusing Navid Hashim, a Palestinian-Saudi hero, of being a terrorist.

Like literally the only thing this character exists for is to stir up “drama” with Arab characters. I cannot even begin to fathom what the MCU will do with her, unless it’s a total and complete re-writing that is miraculously better. Which we can all count on, surely //sarcasm

#ppl who know more feel free to add #sabra #ruth bat seraph #marvel comics #posting panels #racism #meta

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idieokonkwo · 2 years

Text

6 Reasons I Disliked She-hulk (tv show)

1. I didn’t like the way that Jen talks to Bruce. She’s really annoying the whole time and acts like she knows best. Also, she seems to be constantly bragging that she’s better than him because she can control her powers sooner, when it really just means she’s privileged. The TV show doesn’t treat either of these like flaws.

2. Bruce isn’t nice either? He’s been one of the nicer characters in the past, but here he seems to have forgotten that he didn’t always want to be a superhero, and spent time helping get medicine for homeless kids before Avengers or whatever he was doing. He seems to be unwilling to imagine that Jen might not want to be a superhero, when he hasn’t always wanted to be one.

3. OH MY GOD TITANIAS OUTFIT IS THE UGLIEST THING IVE EVER SEEN

4. Why would she turn into a hulk just from a drop of his blood?? Seems super cheesy, a blood transfusion is a MUCH better backstory. Like seriously, chances are good that hulk blood has gotten places before in big battles, so if a drop is all it takes it seems unlikely no one would have been infected before.

5. Make her buff?? She’s supposed to be just as strong as the hulk.

-Women want characters who actually look like really people, while she-hulk magically gets her hair straightened when she shifts.

-Women don’t want Jen talking about how she’s so much better then Bruce because she’s a woman.

6. AND THE STEVE VIRGIN COMMENTS!!

Jen WTF it’s none of your business what Steve has or hasn’t done. If it was a male character making such comments about Natasha that wouldn’t be seen as okay, so it’s not okay for her to do the same thing about Steve. Also she’s talking about it to Bruce, who was friends with Steve (who is now dead), WHAT MAKES HER THINK TALKING TO HIM ABOUT WHETHER HIS DEAD FRIEND IS A VIRGIN OR NOT IS OKAY.

(Also Steve went back in time and married Peggy, the only way he would still be a virgin is if he didn’t want to have sex, and that could be true for literally any superhero other than Iron Man)

Also having Steve lose his virginity to a random girl on a tour seems OOC, but honestly I don’t really care about MCU Steve Rogers.

———————

(If anyone disagrees with me about any of these points, I’m fine having a friendly discussion, but I don’t want to get in a huge fight over a stupid tv show is set in a universe that has whitewashed multiple characters and is hugely problematic.)

#anti she hulk #anti she-hulk #she hulk #she-hulk #anti mcu #jennifer walters #she hulk tv #it’s fine if you like it I’m just feeling mad because I love comic Jen so much and this show felt like such a disappointment

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lawrites · 1 year

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A Softer Side

Aemond Targaryen x Plus Size Female Reader

You are a Strong, and as such you have spent much time in the Red Keep with your Lord Father the Hand. After crossing paths with Aemond many times, you have forged an unlikely friendship at only ten-and-four.

This chapter is safe for all ages. There are some things that may be problematic such as a young betrothal (at 14), Targaryen incest sometimes mentioned, some self-deprecation and insults from other characters, (Especially "your" mom).

Other chapters will mention the terrible things that happen to the Strong family, Aemond's disfigurement, and once they are older may be suggestive or more. But for now they are kids and literally thinking of nothing but being happy with each other. This is more of a prologue to explain their relationship than anything, really.

I am not planning on following canon and allowing the dance to happen because this is a reader insert so like...why not be happy? Also book lore says Aemond was 10 when he lost his eye but I'm aging them up to 14 because betrothing people at 10 would be WILD. (14 is still wild but it's GOT so) Anyway, enjoy!

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You were luckier than your fellow noble girls in many ways...and yet unlucky in others. The Red Keep is your home, surrounding you with royalty of all kinds. Your mother told you before you left that it would be almost impossible not to make a good match, even at your age of ten-and-four and with your "plump" figure. No matter her words or her scoldings, it seemed like you just were inclined to be softer than others. It wasn't a crime, but for a noble girl in your time it may as well have been. You weren’t unlucky because of your softness, of course, your body is your body, but there are people that just don’t understand.

You walk just as much as the other girls, embroider, read, eat like them, and yet your body has decided that you must be bigger. In your own eyes, you suspect that it must be due to your "Stronger" genes. Yes, the daughter of someone who produced a hulking giant like Harwin and a smart, cunning whip of a man like Larys might also be unexpected in terms of body type. Lyonel was large, your mother was small, and it was only a coin toss to see which you would be.

Like your father, you seemed to retain weight in your middle. You are young, though, and according to your mother could "lose your baby weight at any day." You scoff and remind yourself that this may be the body you are in forever, which is fine by you. Either you find a lord that doesn't mind your weight or you don't, and you end up a maid. But those are the same options presented to every young girl in the kingdom, so you refuse to feel sorry for yourself.

Your father did see a lot of himself in you, though. Pitying and understanding glances thrown your way during your mother's lectures at dinner. If she ever revoked your food, your father would sneak up a plate to your room while Harwin kept watch. But with your father's position as Hand of the King, you were left alone with your mother more often than not. Eventually, you begged him to take you to the Red Keep with him, just as he did for Harwin and Larys. He could never seem to refuse you, and your mother agreed quickly as well.

Yes, you were lucky to be in the Red Keep and away from her now. It was your opinion that she wanted you out of her hair as much as you wanted out of her reach. And you did seem to come to your own when away from her. You stopped shrinking down at dinners or around others and began to straighten your back like a proper lady. The weight hasn't gone, just like you suspected, but that's alright with you. It at least keeps Aegon's interests away.

The elder son of Queen Alicent was cruel, and his face shows it each time he glances at you. He seems to hold almost a hatred towards any woman or girl that didn't fit within his type, and that decidedly includes you. Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys treat you like any other person, as their own mother has a figure like yours. But...Aemond...

Aemond was one of your best friends here. You were of similar ages and had initially met when you both waited outside the small council chamber for your fathers. Aemond would try to catch even a glimpse of Viserys as he stormed away from the meetings, while you would await your own father who would escort you either to the dining hall or your rooms depending on the time of day.

You began to speak quietly with Aemond outside the hall one day, surprised when he answered back. He is sweet, that much you can say, and soft-spoken. Many may call him reserved but you believe that to be fair after he has been ignored by his father and insulted by his brother and nephews. You began to invite him to eat with you and your own father after the meetings, wanting for him to not be as alone in the world.

He accepted the first time and would follow you with an unspoken look at each meeting from there on. He seemed to begin to open up to you and the Lord Hand, to a lesser extent. Your own father seemed to be impressed and proud of your ability to bring out a talkative and excitable side to the prince. You have always had a gift for relating to others and bringing out the best in them.

All you really had to do was observe and remember. You knew that Aemond likes to read, as you saw him under the Godswood with a book on many of your strolls, and you knew that he knows much of the history of the seven kingdoms. So, at the first dinner, you asked him about his favorite story. His eyes widened and, with a little prompting, he began to regale you of a tale of knights and princesses and nobility and dragons, of course. He said more words that night than your Lord Father had ever seen. And you listened intently, your hand on your chin and a small smile on your face. You found yourself happy when the prince was happy.

And he began to take more notice of you outside of your dinners as well...and you him, of course. He would glance up from his reading as he sat under the Godswood, waiting to catch a glimpse of you as you walked by. Eventually, he would even invite you to sit with him, asking if he could read to you. You accepted, and would sit next to him on his blanket, politely listening to his soft voice. Sometimes he would have you read to him, which gave him the ability to look openly at you as your eyes focused on the words.

It is a beautiful, peaceful moment such as that today. You are currently under the Godswood, allowing yourself to lay down by Aemond's side as he reads from a heavy tome. He seems to be taking pauses in between some paragraphs today, your eyes meeting as he glances down at you with a soft smile. You are, of course, unable to know his own thoughts, which center on how pretty you look with your hair shining in the sun, a soft, contented smile on your face. But near the end of the chapter, as he pauses once more, you glance up to see that he is not looking at you, but ahead.

You pull yourself up to rest on your elbows, shocked to see your own father and the King himself standing in the walkway, looking at the two of you. You and Aemond quickly get to your feet. He bows while mumbling out a "father" and you curtsy while welcoming his grace. Both of them have small smiles on their face, and Viserys almost seems...lighter...maybe even happier than you have seen him in a while.

They move on, leaving you and Aemond are a bit shaken. After sitting in silence for a moment, looking at each other with a slight awkwardness, Aemond slams the book closed as he moves to get up. "I-I am sorry, truly, but I must leave you now to practice." You nod with understanding, standing up and making a shoo-ing motion. "I understand, Prince, go on! Become Strong like me." You smile at him and show him your "Strong" arms by flexing. He laughs and his eyes light up with almost determination, "I-I will become S-Strong for you, you will see!"

He runs off, as you turn and roll your eyes at his enthusiasm, your heart feeling the warmth of content. You find yourself walking to your own practice with embroidery, humming to yourself as your shoes echo on the stones. Though it isn't as impressive as a sword, you were actually happy to be able to create something with your own hands and thread. It was frustrating at first, but like Aemond's sword fighting, you practiced.

You are proud of the progress you have made, and the other ladies like to gather and coo over your work. Currently, you have been embroidering a scene from Aemond's favorite story. The flags of the tournament were difficult to get as detailed as you wanted, but the knights are almost glinting in the sun thanks to your skill.

As you finish off a thread, you hear murmurs of "Lord Hand" and hear the clatter of rings being set down. You look up to see your father and quickly set down your work as well, rising to your feet. He smiles and grabs your shoulders. "My dear, I have a surprise for you at dinner tonight." Your face contorts in confusion as you are about to ask what, but your father shakes his head. "I cannot tell you until you join us, but I would like for you to go to your rooms and prepare yourself instead of meeting us outside the small council chambers. Put on your best dress, make sure your hair is presentable, possibly take a bath after laying in the dirt..."

He scrunches up his nose in an obvious jest and you both laugh. You nod your head, ever the dutiful daughter, and pick up your embroidery. Your own father prefers to lead you to your rooms, (with Harwin being close behind if he was available), as it gives him time to discuss your opinions of the Red Keep and your happiness as you walk. "Now, what have you been making here?" He asks as you leave the room.

You try to hide the embroidery but he snatches it from your hands. "Ah! I recognize this well. You have a talent, my dear. Or...at least I believe you do. I know not of embroidery myself." He smiles and you giggle. "But what made you so fixated on creating this scene in thread?"

You blush and look down as you continue to walk, fixating on your shoes. "Oh. Well...Prince Aemond's name-day will be here before we know it. I...I wished to have a gift for him, and so...I made him his favorite scene from his favorite story."

Your Lord Father nods as you continue to look down, his face showing almost triumph as his assumption was right. He remembers that first meal with Aemond just as well as you do. You look up to him, your hand reaching out for your work. He gently places it into your hand, and you look at it as you speak. "Will Aemond be alright if I do not meet him as usual after the small council meeting?"

Your Father smiles as he looks down at you, "Yes, I will meet him and escort him to our dining room." He places his hand on your shoulder. "Do not worry, my child, he will understand your delayed arrival soon." You nod and look up at your door as you reach your chambers. The doors swing open under your hands, and you allow yourself one glance back for reassurance at your father before you close them behind you.

You find your father had arranged for a few handmaidens and a hot bath to be ready for you, and you gladly sink into the fragrant water as your hair is quickly unbraided and gently washed. Once you are clean, you dry off and then step into your best chemise and dress. As your handmaidens braid your drying hair neatly once more, you run your hands nervously over your front, feeling your soft middle.

The handmaidens help you with the finishing touches to your look, catching flyaway hairs and wrangling them into place. They also give you just a hint of perfume your mother had sent with you, the smell reminding you of home. Once they are finished, the sun is falling behind the ocean, and you must head to dinner.

You find your own brothers standing outside your room once you exit, both Harwin and Larys looking towards you. Harwin smiles with his entire face and seems to want to give you one of his all-encompassing bear hugs, but Larys gently places a hand on his chest. "Not yet, brother. She must be presentable for the dinner." You smile gratefully at Larys, knowing that he thinks more deeply about things sometimes than Harwin.

He gives you a very cryptic glance back. It is almost a smile, but guarded. Though you spend more time with Harwin, you always enjoy time with Larys. His advice was what kept you sane in the Red Keep when whispers about your body followed you in your first few weeks. Though his struggle is much different than yours, you both are able to commiserate and get advice from the other. You worry that, as a girl of ten-and-four, you cannot even begin to give Larys any useful advice...but he sometimes seems to be comforted just by your understanding and listening ear.

He continues to give you the cryptic look as he softly speaks, "Good luck, little sister." And you hear his cane clack against the stone as he moves in the opposite direction. Harwin shakes his head a bit and grabs your shoulder in comfort, telling you that you look beautiful as you walk down the stairs and towards the hall.

"Harwin?" He glances down at you. "Why is this dinner different? Did I do something wrong?" Harwin moves to your front and kneels in front of you as he grabs your shoulders, stopping you from entering the dining room just yet. "You have done nothing of the sort." His eyes are open and loving. "You are a wonderful daughter for our father and a kind sister. Anyone would be happy to be counted amongst your acquaintances. Remember that." You nod, confusingly, as Harwin nods back and stands up. You did not notice upon first glance, but Kingsguard are stationed at the door.

They open the doors for you, and Harwin places his hand on your back to lead you into the room. Your face of confusion turns to shock as you see King Viserys where you do not expect him for the second time today. Queen Alicent is by his side at the head of the table, and a quick glance to Aemond shows his look of shock as well. (Though you do not know that he is more shocked at your beauty than his own father) You quickly curtsy as you are announced, looking to the King and Queen and doing your best to give them your Graces.

The King smiles and points to a spot next to Aemond. "Please, join us young one." You glance to your father and he nods. Usually you sit across from Aemond, but tonight would be different, it seems. You walk to your seat and are surprised to see Aemond stand up and pull it out for you. You blush, thank him, and sit down, letting him push your chair back in.

The King gives a slight toast to "new friends and the Strong bond between family" and begins to dig in. You glance to your father who has also begun to eat, taking it as your own cue to do so as well. You find a singular piece of potato that interests you, spearing it with your fork. The voice of your mother spears through you in much the same way, "Must you be so happy to eat, child? At least appear as if food holds nothing to you even if it is clear to everyone that it does."

You slowly bring it up, trying not to appear too hungry, and eat, glancing over at Aemond to see that he is also unable to eat with his usual fervor. At least you weren't alone in your lost appetite. Your father clears his throat and you look to him. "So, my dear daughter, would you like to discuss your day as usual with Aemond?" As straightforward as ever, your father. You nod but glance in what you think is an imperceptible way towards the King.

He chuckles as your eyes meet. "Oh, she is a bit frightened of me, it seems, Lyonel." You blush a bit, feeling ashamed that the King can tell. "Just pretend I am not here, child." You find yourself speaking without even thinking, "Pardon, your Grace, but that is easier said than done." You shock yourself and look down to your plate in shame, before you hear the King let out a loud, surprised laugh.

"Very well said and observed." You look up once more to see that his face is full of mischief. "Then instead, pretend that I am an old man who cares not of the manners of court for the time being." You stay quiet, causing the Queen to interject. "My dear, we are your friends here. You may discuss whatever you want freely with Aemond."

She gives you a gentle smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes as you turn from her to Aemond. He is blushing heavily at this point, and you try to very slowly and gently grab his hand in support. He looks to you and you begin to speak in a soft voice. "H-how was training today, Prince Aemond?"

He looks to you and then to his father...then down to his plate. "O-oh. Well...I was k-knocked down by Aegon once more. Many times, in fact." You feel his shame, and the urge to comfort him makes you truly forget about the King. "Aemond, that is alright. You are younger." You smile and continue, "And besides, the best knights learn from their mistakes and losses and use them to become Strong."

He turns to you in thankfulness, "S-Strong like you?" You nod, "Exactly, Strong like me!" And you pick up your arm, showing him your "muscles." He giggles and you smile and then you remember where you are. You slowly look to the King and your Father, lowering your arm and blushing at forgetting your manners and behavior. The King begins to eat again, saying through a mouthful of food, "Well, go on."

You feel so ashamed that now you are the one who cannot speak, and Aemond instead is the one who talks. "My Lady Strong, what have you done today?" He squeezes your hand and seems to be looking only at you. You inhale and respond. "Well, you know I embroider as all Ladies in court do, but that must bore a Prince such as yourself."

Aemond shakes his head. "Nothing that you do bores me, My Lady." He has slightly reddened cheeks as he continues, "You are interesting in everything that you do...to m-me that is." He smiles at you, truly this time, and you smile back.

"Well, that is good to know, My Prince." You have completely forgotten about the royalty in the room once more, basking in just talking with your dearest friend. "I will bring a nice, dusty old tome from the Maester's Library to read tomorrow at the Godswood. It should thrill you to hear about all of the proceedings of court from times of peace."

You muster up your best proper voice and continue, "Yes, and on the 12th day of millions of years ago, a King decided to have tea with his friends. They spoke at length with each other and then retired to their rooms." You collapse a bit into your normal posture and use your normal voice once more. "Quite riveting, if I am not mistaken."

Aemond truly laughs, his own thoughts away from his father watching over him. Then he looks at you with open enthusiasm. "If I am to hear about it from you, then I do not mind." He squeezes your hand once more, "You have a way of making history interesting to me."

A jarring sound of utensils being set down brings you both from your conversation, and you suddenly, again, remember that the King has been watching you with his son the whole time. You look to him apprehensively, expecting to get a lecture about respect towards history or the Prince. But instead you see his face still holds his previous smile.

"Well, it seems my Lord Hand is right once more, wouldn't you agree, my dear?" He looks to the Queen, who slowly nods. "It does appear that, though we thought him to be biased..." She glances with almost coldness at your father, "...he once again does his best to give you an accurate reading of circumstances." She looks to her son at the end of her sentence, and notices your joined hands. She seems to soften a bit, almost unable to keep up any pretense.

She looks to the King. "I say that the Strong's have been excellent allies to the court and..." She pauses, "...Lord Strong has been a decent Hand of the King these years." She gathers herself. "I await your decision, Lord Husband."

You stop for a moment...decision? But The King stands, with a bit of difficulty, and the rest of the table follows suit. He grins at his son and begins, "I believe that the best way to reward years of service and ensure continued loyalty would be the joining of House Strong and House Targaryen." He brings up his goblet in a motion for a toast, and you all follow suit. "I, Viserys Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby join my own House and House Strong by betrothing mine own son Aemond Targaryen to Lady Y/N of the House Strong." Your eyes open wide in shock, unable to even move as he continues his speech, "...you will be wed once you turn ten-and-eight, and from then on you will be bound. We all hope your union to be one of joy and prosperity." He brings up his goblet to drink and everyone follows, with the exception of you and Aemond.

You glance over and him and notice that he has already been looking to you, a blush on his face. He gives you a small smile and motions to your cup. You hurriedly bring it to your lips to mirror the King's movements, and he does the same. Once the toast is finished you all sit down, the King leading in his own stead. He looks to you both and speaks, "It does seem that the two of you already have a bond of friendship."

You feel your face heating up but continue to look to the King. "You know, the best marriages are built based on not only duty, but friendship and love." The King seems to deflate then, lost in his own thoughts. The Queen worriedly holds his arm and you take hold of Aemond's hand in comfort once more.

"I-I seem to be ready to retire for the night," The King almost whispers. There have been rumors around the court of his failing health. He seems to lose himself and his energy even after the smallest of exertions. The Queen nods to the guards and they all summon around the King, ready to escort him. Viserys looks to you both once more before he leaves the room, and his eyes seem to hold such sadness as he softly speaks, "My son, treat her well."

And with that, the doors shut, leaving you, your Father, and Aemond alone once more. Your father clears his throat and calls for your brother to enter the room. Surprisingly, both Larys and Harwin enter, and they join you as you all take a seat once more. Food is brought for them, and they begin to eat, Harwin glancing between both Aemond and your own untouched plate.

Aemond seems to shrink a bit under his critical gaze, but he also looks to see that you haven't eaten much. He squeezes your hand and looks at you with imploring eyes. "My Lady, won't you eat? You cannot stay Strong without it, you know." He tries to grin but his own worry is palpable through his attempt at humor.

You shake your head in disbelief, "I-I cannot find myself able to even think of hunger at the moment after...after..." You look to him. "...So...we are to be betrothed then? Just like that?"

Aemond seems to shrink even more, releasing your hand. "I am sorry if I was not the person you had wanted." He almost whispers now. "I know that I do not even have a dragon. I cannot be the best for you."

Your eyes widen, understanding how Aemond could misunderstand your question. The pause in the sounds of cutlery against plates makes you look to your family, who had indeed stopped eating to listen in. You glare at all of them, especially at Harwin, who brings up his hands in surrender and continues to eat. The sounds give you a bit of cover.

You grab his hand gently, trying to hold it tight so he can't escape again. "My prince," you say lowly, "There is no one I would rather be with than you. I-" you pause, breathing in shakily. "...I was only worried that you would not be happy with me. I am not a great beauty nor from a Valerian House." You feel what Aemond had felt, now, wanting to draw your own hand away. "I cannot offer you what others could."

Aemond grips your hand tightly now and shakes his head. "No! No! I...I cannot think of another who has been here for me like you. Or another who I have wanted to share my time with such as you. You are my..." He pauses, "...my greatest friend. It is an honor to be betrothed."

You sigh, realizing that maybe friendship IS the best you could hope for from a Targaryen Prince in your marriage. You nod. "I agree wholeheartedly." He looks to your plate once more. "Then please eat for me, my betrothed. You deserve to be happy and taken care of. I-I will take care of you." Squeezing his hand, you take your utensils as directed. Your brother makes a disgusted sound and you look to Harwin, who rolls his eyes and pretends to gag.

You stick out your tongue at your much older brother's childish antics, and you decide that you will eat your food if for no other reason than to spite him and his disgust at your friendship with the Prince. Once finished, you stand up and announce that you will retire to your rooms. Harwin stands as well to escort you, but Aemond grabs your hand.

"Y-you wouldn't mind if I walked you there as well?" You shake your head and look to your father for approval. His face is full of such warmth and pride that it almost makes you want to run to your rooms to escape it, not used to being the center of such happy emotions. He nods, "Of course, Prince Aemond. Harwin will escort you both to my daughters chambers, where you can say goodnight."

You gently take Aemond's outstretched hand with a blush. He at least was doing his best to appear to be the perfect betrothed, and you would do the same. Though you know that it will not be difficult to try on your part. You walk in silence, mainly, Harwin occasionally chuckling lowly, causing you to glare at him. Once you reach your chambers, Aemond brings you in front of him, holding both of your hands.

He looks nervously at Harwin, and you glare up at him once more, signalling him to turn with your head. He rolls his eyes and turns his back on the two of you, crossing his arms. Aemond smiles softly at you, his eyes shining. "Would you close your eyes for me, my Lady Strong." You do, giving him a small smile in return. You feel his breath on your cheek for only a moment before his lips replace it, you eyes opening in shock as you see the Prince give you a chaste kiss on the cheek.

He pulls back and his cheeks are bright red, you bring one of your hands from his to feel your face, which is warm as well. You almost feel as if your body is made of some sort of ice that can melt into the floor when his free hand caresses your face where he kissed it. "G-goodnight, my Lady Strong."

You softly respond, "Goodnight, my Strong Prince."

He blushes, looks down, and releases your hands, allowing you to enter your room. You glance back at him once more to see him watching you intently, you wave, and close the doors behind you.

Filled with childish glee that one almost never gets to experience in a world such as the one you inhabit, you rush to your bed and grab one of the soft pillows, using it to mask your squeal of happiness. Aemond would be your Husband. Aemond would be your HUSBAND! Even if he would never love you as you him, it would be so much easier to move through life with him by your side. Your handmaiden looks on in happiness, herself, before tapping you on the shoulder.

As you babble to her about the day, acting like the child you are for the first time around her, you get ready for bed. You are so excited from thoughts of your future rushing through your head that you cannot even think to get to sleep. It is, of course, not your fault that you couldn't see the future. Perhaps if you could, you might have worked to stop what was already in motion. Though realizing it was out of your control, you might have felt dejected.

At least, you might have forced yourself to calm down and sleep, as it would become very difficult for you to do so in the very near future, as a deep, dark dread is approaching on the horizon. For your family, especially.

#lawrites #plus size reader #aemond x plus size reader #aemond targaryen x plus size reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #house of the dragon fanfic #Strong reader

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januaryembrs · 2 years

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AD ASTRA - CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHPT. XIV THE DRAGONS

Description: amidst an untrustworthy source, a scorching planet and flying, scaled demons, you’re forced to do something drastic to protect your family.

Length: 4.8k

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AD ASTRA MASTERLIST

Din Djarin X Jedi!reader series. Friends to lovers, (Somewhat) slowburn, female!reader, JEDI!READER, possible smut, jealous!mando, reader has problematic childhood, fluff, saviour complex!mando, canon star wars characters mentioned, Obi wan x padawan!reader, dad!obi wan, general star wars bloodshed etc.

AD ASTRA PER ASPERA

“To the stars through hardships”

Your group had decided to ride the Blurgs seeing as the place the contact had requested to meet was in such a remote location, meaning you had a long day of walking ahead of you. Kuiil only owned three of the hulking, tadpole-shaped creatures, however, so Cara and you hopped on together seeing as you were both the unexpected and possibly unwelcome guests to this Greef Karga that Mando had been in contact with.

The leathery-skinned creatures plodded down the ramp of the crest and you immediately eyed up the four strangers of varying species waiting for Mando, noting the loaded blasters sitting at their hips.

"Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando. But things have gotten complicated since you were last here. It appears that introductions are in order. It seems we've both provided a security detail." The older human at the front, who you guessed was Karga judging by his leadership over the others, said. He eyed up the three newcomers that he had not been waiting for, yourself included, and pointed at Cara with interest, "I recommend the shock-trooper guards the ship, these lava fields are lousy with Jawas."

"She's coming with me," Mando said, and the tone in his voice clearly left no room for negotiation.

"But the town is now run by ex-Empire. If a rebel dropper is with us, they'll all get their hackles up." While what he said made sense, something about the way he was scrambling for an excuse to lessen your defence of the child made your nerves spark aflame of distrust. A terrible pit in your stomach only deepened with dread as your fears that this was a setup of sorts were satiated by his behaviour.

"She's coming," Mando repeated harshly, not moving from his statement.

Greef thought for a moment, looking at where you sat behind the rebel, staring holes into him viciously with cold eyes. "Fine. Fine. At least cover your tattoo. No need to flaunt it. And the beautiful specimen at the back, is she a rebel too?"

Din's jaw clenched at the man's words, the way he spoke about you as though you weren't there or was simply a porcelain object he had brought along for the ride.

"No, she's a friend. Best fighter I know. Anyone wishing to cross our path doesn’t stand a chance," Mando answered honestly, the compliment clearly being laced with a threat in case Greef had any ideas.

"Now, where is the little one?" The man asked, now wary of the two women sitting on top of one of the ugly beasts. Mando flicked some buttons on his vambrace, which you had rewired to link it to the controls on the new pram, and the sleek egg-shaped crib floated up towards Greef who looked down in awe. You felt your heart leap into your throat, hand jumping to your blaster in distrust of the man.

"So this little bogwing is what all the fuss was about." Greef said, holding the child up out of the crib as he stared up at him in wonder with soft black eyes, "What a precious little creature. I can see why you didn't wanna harm a hair on its wrinkled little head. Well, I'm glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all." He placed the child back down, making you and no doubt Mando sigh a breath of short-lived relief. Mando drew the crib back almost immediately, back to the protection of the four beings atop the blurgs. You watched the lid shut firmly with the child inside it, and turned your attention back to the contact, satisfied that the baby was safe.

"Relax, Mama bear. Kid's safe" Cara muttered, trying to soothe your nerves as she felt your arm wrapped around her middle for balance tense up. You nodded to yourself, trying to coax yourself into reassurance.

"The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk for a spell and camp out on the river bank, then make our way into town at first light." Greef Karga said, turning on his foot and heading in the direction you guessed the river was. You would certainly be glad to see some water, the hot air of the volcanic planet already feeling like a scorching, heavy blanket over your shoulders.

The group followed on the blurgs, you wrapping your arms around the woman in front of you for stability.

"Someone feeling cuddly today?" Cara teased, though she got no sarcastic quip in return as she had expected. That told her all she needed to know, that you were deep in your head, no doubt about the child and what you were about to walk into. You had never thought that you would grow to care about the child so much in the past few months you and Mando had been playing happy family, but looking back on it you really saw him as your own foundling. You were by no means a natural at it, but you found comfort in the fact you and Mando learned and figured it out together, as you did with most things these days.

You had felt so alone for so long, and now you had them. When you lay in your tiny, uncomfortable bed at night, sometimes you daydreamed of calling them your family; of seeing Mando without his armour, being his beloved. Cyare, that was what they called them, you remembered Shenzi teaching you. Just to be his, and have him as yours lulled you to sleep, alone and cold as you may be.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You had been walking for a few hours by the time they came to a stop and, all things considered, you were quite enjoying the ride as your role as passenger meant you could sightsee. It wasn't a lively planet, not the part you were walking through anyway and you quickly got used to the vermillion lava pools and the charcoal rocky plains nevertheless, you took it all in with wonder. Having to watch over your back for so long meant you never really had time to explore, so seeing this new land was exciting, even if you still were on high alert for danger the whole time.

The group had brought down a small mammal and cooked it on a spit over a fire they had started seeing as the night took a cold turn despite the fact they were on a volcanic planet. You stared into the loud, licking flames, one of Karga's men adding a shovel of screaming hot coals to stoke the fire that he sourced from a nearby lava pool. There seemed to be a tense silence over the group, not that you cared seeing as the Child sat in between you and Kuiil who tended to him gently, Mando laying out to the left of you. You chewed at your food slowly, the smokey flavoured meat being one of the best things you'd tasted in a while. You and Mando really tried your best, but with limited resources, you were still short for the symphony of taste that meat and an open fire allowed.

In your peripheral vision, you noticed the child squirming in his seat, hands pushing away the food that Kuiil offered him despite barely touching it. His eyes were locked on where Mando lay down, and it became clear to the child's protectors what he wanted.

"Here, I got him," You offered, placing your makeshift plate on the floor with your food still steaming with freshness. The Ugnaught lifted the child out of the crib, holding him out to your expecting hands who collected him and put him on the ground in between you and Mando. He almost immediately waddled over to your plate of food, getting his greedy little claws on your share of the meal with a mischievous giggle.

"Hey! That's not yours." Din scolded the boy who looked up at him guiltily, sharp teeth already sunk into the piece of meat, "Cuyir jate par gar cabur," [be good for your guardian]

The baby took not much notice, however, instead practically inhaling the food even faster in case one of them tried to take it away from him. You simply chuckled as the child shuffled away from the plate. "Don't worry, I already had enough anyway," You said, watching the little menace move towards the Mandalorian, plopping himself to the floor next to him, leaning against the man's chest plate. "adiika shi copaanir kaysh cabur" [the child just wants his protector] You replied fluently, smiling at the privacy you had been granted from the ears of the rest of the group as Mando'a was a very niche language nowadays. It was comforting to have the familiarity of something you could share just the two of you, reminding you of the quiet nights on the crest when it was just your little aliit [clan] together; no imps, no potential traitors, just the three of you.

"Well, look at you three, playing happy families. I didn't think you had it in you Mando," You almost sensed a hint of sincerity in Karga's voice, but the fact remained that the whole group had a bad feeling about this man's intentions and instead left the comment feeling like a bitter jab towards you. Mando straightened up, almost trying to block the child from the man's view the way he moved, and you couldn't help but wonder if that was because he felt like your moment of privacy was being tarnished, because you certainly did. That much was clear in the underlying glare you sent towards Karga for invading your moment as a family.

Family? It felt sinful nearly for thinking of them that way when that arrangement had never been agreed with Mando, but that was what had sprung to your mind nonetheless. Nothing had ever progressed past the stage of protectors towards the child, but something between you and Mando was there, the way a dying fire still flutters with hot embers. You both felt the heat of it, the sensation bringing you both warmth on a dark night, but it wasn't a roaring flame that demanded your vocalised attention, so it had gone unacknowledged, unspoken. Not to be thought of until the fire became so hot it burned welts into your skin.

Still, just as the tiny blaze was flickering to life with your game of secrecy, Karga had trampled over it, effectively killing the mood you had both been in.

"Let's go over the plan again," Mando cut in, trying to take the attention away from the child and the way you let him nibble gently at your finger. He hated how Karga had taken an interest in his interaction with you, even if it was his own fault for being so out of character around you, but he didn't think twice about it these days.

Your situation was unusual, to say the least. Two adults traversing the galaxy with a magical baby causing chaos every step of the way. You behaved like its parents naturally, as to be expected in a position like that, and it didn't help that the two of you felt something between you, a connection running far deeper and warmer than you’d admitted, but Din hadn't thought it would be that obvious to everyone else how he felt about you. How you could feel about him.

The world didn't get to see the side of him you did; he realised.

"We both enter the common house. We show the client the bait. We join him at the table, and you kill him." Karga said simply, the fire illuminating his oddly calm face as he spoke about a task that could land all involved in deep trouble considering the circumstances.

"Tell me about his reinforcements." Mando pressed, seemingly unconvinced it was as easy as he was making it out to seem.

"They're all ex-Empire. As soon as they lose their paycheck," Karga scoffed, finishing his last piece of meat and opening his canteen of water, "they'll all scatter."

"And if they don't?" Your mouth braved to ask. You didn't trust this contact one bit, something in the air between the lot of them was stagnant with the promise of lies. You were heading towards people who served the Empire, a fair few of them from what Karga was describing too. That only meant one thing; that trouble lay ahead for your little trio, though your life had been heading that way since the moment you saw that Beskar armour stroll into the cantina on Sorgan.

"They will." Karga replied after a beat, almost shocked to hear your voice through the twilight silence.

"That's not good enough," You said, a snappy tone in your voice at the secrets he was clearly keeping from you.

Greef sighed for a moment at your persistence. Din had to give it to you, considering he could tell how tense you were, you weren’t letting any bullshit slip past you, "If, for argument's sake, a few of them don't realise that I'm their best path to alternative employment, and they elect to react impulsively, then these three fine Guild hunters along with that battle-hardened shock-trooper and your Mandalorian will cut down anyone who bucks."

You dared a look at Mando when Greef referred to him in such a way, curious to see if he had any protest. If he did, he didn't voice it as he simply cut in where you left off.

"How many will there be?"

"No more than four," Karga replied, standing from the floor, but that sprung alarm bells in you almost immediately. Four? Certainly for such a highly sought-after prize, they would bring reinforcements. "He travels with, at most, a fire team. Trust me, nothing could go wrong."

Just as the devious man had reached over to the roasting animal skewered over the fire to collect a thick leg of meat, something moved in the shadows towards him. No sooner had a scream echoed loudly around the fire pit, two huge clawed feet lunged out of the darkness and snatched the food from his hands. Loud flapping sounds reverberated through the night, and they were big too.

You moved on impulse, grabbing the child from the floor and shoving him quickly into his new dome-shaped pram, shutting the lid on him to keep him safe from whatever the creatures swarming around you were. If they were interested in the meat in Karga's hands, a little boy like him would be a light snack to them.

The group scrambled to pull out their blasters, shooting blindly at any single noise they heard to no avail. The creature wailed once more, but for a moment after there was silence.

You stopped, waiting for any other sign of movement. They met you with a beat of stillness, and the small optimistic part of you hoped that that would be the end.

Of course, you never got that lucky. you had never been a lucky woman.

The creature dived at the small group like a demon from the sky, and you now had the chance to get a genuine look at them. From what your eyes briefly caught in between shooting at the monstrous things, was the fact they were covered in darkish scales and they indeed had huge wings that blew sand up from the floor with every flap.

You couldn't get a decent look at their face but you could bet all the credits you owned you would find a few rows of razor teeth you had no intention of getting close to. Your best guess; Dragons.

Then, as you felt your blaster running low on charges, one beast, you believed there were two at least, swooped down and grabbed one of the Blurgs between its long talons. As selfish as it were, you couldn't help but be relieved that they had something to satiate their hunger that wasn't yourself, Cara or the man you cared for more than almost anyone.

"No! Let go of her! Drop her now!" Kuiil yelled, and you couldn't help but feel guilty of the horribly greedy thought you had had not two seconds earlier amid the shooting. The Blurgs were like a family to the little Ugnaught from Avrila-7 with them being the last remaining company he had on his moisture farm. You guessed they were to him what the child was to you and Mando, and the remorse at the idea of him being dragged away squealing so painfully was a kick to the gut.

The group shot at the dragon in vain, already knowing the animal was a lost cause but just to show Kuiil you would at least try fighting for his oddly amphibian looking family. But it was too late.

At least you thought.

Another moment of silence gave you a false sense of security, leading you to believe the dragons indeed would be satisfied with only one Blurg to chow down on. But no.

Within seconds, one of Karga's men was snatched in the claws of another one of the dragons, lifted off into the night, screaming for help. As if that wasn't enough, another of the Blurg's got targeted next by the huge reptiles. Luckily, thanks to the fact Cara had chosen a high powered semi-automatic from Mando's collection when she had the choice that morning, and the ex-shock trooper managed to hit the beast and kill it before it could drag away the poor, unsuspecting Blurg.

While there were obvious signs of blood pooling down the puncture wounds, the amphibian creature would live to see another Blurg day.

You had just about reloaded your twin blasters when the dragons dove an ultimate time. You didn't know whether it was the glint of the fire in the beskar that had caught their attention, but your gut twisted horribly when you saw one of the colossal beasts spring at Mando.

Your Mandalorian, as Karga had so well articulated.

Mando grunted with the impact of being thrown to the ground, and for a moment you felt your breath miss your throat in panic at the situation unfolding before you.

A snap second is all it would take for the dragon to wrap its talons around Mando, and in even less time they could beat their colossal wings and be off into the unknown with the man you felt more about than almost anyone in your entire life.

Maybe that was what made you do what you did; sheer fucking panic at the idea of him being snatched away from you when there was still so much you had to tell him. The kid needed him; you needed him.

Just as it had done earlier that day, the barrier between you and the force came crumbling down with much more vigour than you expected. Your breath was knocked out of your lungs at the power that overcame your whole body, but you paid no attention to it. This was a dumb, snap decision that had been your last resort to stopping the man you felt something so stupidly deep for being taken away from you.

You screamed out a protesting '"No!" as the dragon wrapped one of its talons under Mando's cuirass, lifting him off the ground all of two feet. You thrust your hand out in front of you, luckily seeming to the others as though you were simply reaching out of reflex to the action, and felt the dragon's force energy meet you right there.

It felt as though you had stuck your hand out into a cool field of energy, and that your own body's warm force met it right at the point of your fingertips, making them tingle with the difference.

'Hello, old friend', you thought to the force, feeling a wave of warmth rip in your stomach as it responded with glee. The force, as any wielder quickly learns, is just as alive as a visible being, if not more.

You felt your energy reach out to the dragon and squeeze, mangling the dragon's force signature in between your grasp and likely making the scaled beast feel as though its lungs were being crushed in on itself.

It let out a wail of a roar, luckily for you making it appear it was simply releasing a battle cry to the man beneath its grasp. You had a split second to decide whether you wanted to take it further, but the creeping feeling of lethargy of using your powers on such an enormous creature after so many years of malpractice hit you. But you would have pushed past it if someone did not already decide for you.

The dragon's cry gave Din the distraction he needed to reach onto his vambrace and flick open his flame thrower. Long tendrils of fire poured out of the arm piece, scorching the side of the best in its path and making it drop Din down to the floor unceremoniously.

Din left the flames to ward off the creature for a moment longer, alongside the blaster shots from the remaining people in the group. It seemed to work and finally fend off the creatures for good as they watched the two dragons fly off into the distance, their one successful catch of the first Blurg in tow.

Dropping your hand, you felt your force manipulation slipping away. Tiredness overcame you, and strangely achy all over at the feeling of the force buzzing through you once more. You couldn't believe you'd done that, opened the floodgates and let in something you swore would die with you. And you'd done it willingly too. Not like earlier where the child forced it upon you; no this time you had chosen to do it if it meant you could save Mando.

There was very little, if anything, you wouldn't have done to keep him safe.

Mando grabbed you from where you stood not a few feet in front of him, yanking you behind him so that they could watch each other's six for any sign that the dragons were coming back for a second meal. But, after a pause of stillness, it seemed they weren't and group visibly relaxed.

Cara looked over to where her other two companions stood on the other side of the fireplace, taking it upon herself to check on the child from where he sat safely inside his cocoon, oblivious to the fact his father figure was almost lining a huge lizard's insides.

Din turned back to where he'd almost thrown the woman not two minutes earlier to protect your blind spot. "Are you alright?" he asked, his breathlessness clear in his tone.

You surprised even yourself with what you did next. You hugged him.

It was very brief, and awkward considering his chest armour pressed against your face, but you paid no attention to it. He let out a sound of shock at your movement and had barely thought to bring his hand down to rest on your back gently as you squeezed his midriff tightly before you let him go. Your face burned from what he could see through his heat sensor, and he put it down to the fact you hadn't meant to be so openly affectionate in front of so many other people when they hadn't ever hugged before. Din couldn't remember the last time someone had hugged him, in fact, let alone while in his beskar.

"Idiot! Scared me half to death," you whispered, head-turning to the floor in embarrassment of your brash action.

"I just wanted to see if you cared," Mando found it in him to joke, and it worked judging by the smile that tugged at your features.

"Of course I care, dikut. Next time just ask rather than trying to make yourself dragon food,"

"Noted." Was all he said as they walked together to join Cara's side watching over the baby.

And you did. He would never know how much it had meant to you to have opened yourself up to the force the way you had, which you had managed to somehow coral back into its tiny box in your mind in the time they had spent talking. He would never know what you had done, but you knew he would be grateful if he had. And, were the roles to have been reversed, you could say with a deal of confidence that he would have done the same for you.

At least, you thought he would.

It hadn't been until they'd returned to the child that they noticed Karga cradling his bloodied arm from where the creature snatched the food from his hands.

"He's hurt badly," Kuiil informed from his place beside the older man. They moved to inspect the injury which, judging by the black veins spiralling out of the wound, was infected, probably some sort of natural defence system the dragons had developed.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. Ow!" Karga tried to reassure, unconvincingly judging by the pained hiss he released when Cara grabbed his affected arm. You would have laughed in any other situation, trust Cara to not waste time pandering to him.

Hold still. They got you good." You had to admit, the three long deep serrated wounds looked as nasty as Karga was finding them to be, and even winced when you saw Cara unclip a shot of Bacta and plunge it into the sensitive tissue.

"How bad?" Mando asked from beside you.

"Bad. The poison is spreading fast."

"So this...this is how it happens," Karga said, almost resigning himself to the pain coursing through his arm.

"Don't be so dramatic. I need another med-pack. Got any other med-packs? Anyone?"

You noticed the child toddling over to you from where he must have hopped out of his crib. He looked at the man writhing in pain on the floor, before turning his tiny body to look up at you who watched him, a good idea of what was running through that devious little mind of his. He seemed to look at you asking for permission.

Judging by the silence that met the request for more medical supplies, they were running out of options too. He could help. He wanted to help, having learned you could not reveal your own abilities like that.

"I'm guessing that's a 'no'," Karga said sadly, as anyone would think that their time was ending. You looked at the child's big onyx eyes that you knew shared the same thought as you had, and nodded to him slightly.

"It's still spreading. This isn't working." Cara said, being much more gentle as she lifted Karga's arm to inspect the dark veins protruding from them and getting angrier. The child had taken your confirmation and shuffled towards the injured man with an almost cheeky look on his face, to Cara's annoyance. "Get this thing outta here."

"Wait," Kuiil said before you had the chance to. The baby gently put one of his clawed hands on the man's cuts, with a slow grasp.

"He's trying to eat me," Karga exclaimed, and you would have snorted if the situation wasn't so pressing. You kneeled down next to the child knowing it would take a lot of energy for such a tiny being to heal the man's large wounds.

"No. He wants to help you." You said, and as if the child understood you, he squeezed his tiny glass eyes shut in concentration.

The black veins began winding in on themselves first before the marred, open tissue wound almost seemed to sew itself shut with little trace it had been there in the first place.

Karga looked from the child to you, to Mando in amazement. His arm was completely healed not a minute later, leaving the baby to sink back down onto his behind, a drowsy look in his eye.

You felt almost the same, having exhorted yourself with your own use of the force, and swiftly grabbed him up off the ground to tuck back into his pram.

Karga watched you put away the child as the Mandalorian shadowed the two naturally, before the adults settled down with little more than a foot between your resting figures, both of you settling near the pod protectively. Greef had noticed how odd Mando's behaviour had been around you, and who could blame him. All he had seen was the big, hunk of beskar armour and a personality just as cold to match its exterior. So seeing him and you enamoured by a tiny bean of a creature somewhat warmed his ageing heart.

But that begged the bigger question in Karga's mind. He knew what he was leading you into, and Greef wasn't sure he had the heart to hand you all over to the Empire's clutches anymore.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・

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@greeneyedblondie44 @liadamerondjarin

Pedro Pascal

@evyiione

authors notes: apologies for reuploading this, I had some issues with the taglists before and had the post taken down! I hope you enjoyed leave some love where you can please <3

#pedro pascal x female!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #the mandolarian #mando angst #mando fanfiction #mando x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #din djarin #mando x jedi!reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #dad!obi wan x reader

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chromatic-lamina · 8 months

Text

Granted, Law is more

Bruce Lee than he'll ever be

Hulk Hogan ( I prefer Bruce Lee, for what it's worth), but he's hardly the

Charles Atlas weakling portrayed in the advert above that some of fandom seems to think he canonically is (and yes, I know that commercial is problematic) .

Above and following are some figurines and manga/anime shots. He's not bulky like Killer or Kid (although Oda did thicken his neck along with everyone else, especially in Wano) but he is ripped.

Anyway, I think his tattoos are bothersome to draw, so Oda covers him up a lot, and I prefer it if not every character is WWE rip off, and sure he's portrayed skinny and lanky a lot of the time, but not all the time.

The everyman, even if they get transformed into a god, wins in the long run in One Piece, anyway.

My favourite barrel boys (sometimes the animation!):

above 👆 episode 1026 PNG from @sashi-ya

Like, sure, you can diss fan artists for drawing Law with some muscle, but it's not as if he's totally without defined and developed musculature.

(The end shots aren't about muscle, but about getting ahead. Of course one of the shots above features still unresolved stuff with Blackbeard too, so maybe not so much winning there!).

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #yes he's lean #but he's not puny #he ain't a starving buddha #anyway oda and the anime draw him plenty flat enough a lot of the time too #but not all the time #chromalami #chromacaps #chromamuesli #opmeta?#op meta #one piece manga spoilers #one piece spoilers

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skellymom · 10 months

Text

"Slide"

Bad Batch x Non-Gendered Character - ONE SHOT

This is my FIRST fan fic. Working on a much longer series fic with an OC that will drop...when it’s done. Criticism is welcome AS LONG AS IT’S KIND AND CONSTRUCTIVE. PLEASE feel free to contact me! I really want to hear feedback. Also, open to questions. All my work will be 18+ just because of my nasty mouth, nasty mind, and inappropriate dark humor. REMINDER: Please REBLOG if you like what you read! Thanks!!!

Summary: Action, Jedi learns to grow Force powers. This timeline is several months after leaving Crosshair on Kamino, near the end of working for Cid. The Batch is trying to figure a hook to be independent and possibly start actively rebelling against the Empire. This is set well before Mt Tantiss.

Content and Warnings: Canon and non-canon violence, swearing, momentary and possibly gruesome death of main characters (no worries, they don’t stay dead forever), Crosshair is an angry psychopathic killer with a vengeance (no hate, I love his problematic ass), mild Hunter fluff, touchy concerned Tech, Echo swears.

Word count: 2.1 K

**********************************************************************

You hadn’t expected to be separated from the rest of the Batch, however, Omega had other ideas “to help” on this mission. The Batch infiltrated this Imperial base for intel and possible chain codes to steal. You volunteered to run after and bring her back. Spotted by Imperial stormtroopers in a corridor, you and Omega try to lose them, but they are hot on your tail. Omega hears the Batch’s voices down a hallway and runs to them.

You and Omega skid to a halt at the edge of a missing bridge while the rest of the Batchers are on the other side. The precipice between is a several hundred story drop within the Imperial base. The group of stormtroopers rocked up behind you, guns lowered. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker looked on impotently across the chasm, weapons trained on the stormtroopers. The Batch are poised, holding fire, trying to avoid any possibility of you and Omega getting caught in any crossfire.

Unfortunately, you had not finished training with your Master. Your Master did not survive Order 66. You were SO CLOSE to obtaining Jedi status. Now it was up to YOU to save yourself and Omega. Being captured was not an option at this point. Although, allowing the Empire to take you and Omega might allow time for the Batch to retreat safely to fight later. That carried serious risks. You were very limited in options as far as your Force abilities. Master had not given you a light saber, remarking that the Force had a different path for you.

The lead stormtrooper immediately grabbed you as a human shield, just as Wrecker let loose a shot from his blaster. He intended to shoot the stormtrooper but hit you in the chest. You slipped out of the stormtroopers grasp and off the edge of the bridge. You met Omega’s eyes as she called your name, while being dragged away by the same trooper. As your body went into free fall down the chasm, you could hear your Batchmates scream, curse, and start blasting away.

As consciousness slips from your body, you close your eyes. The sense of falling disappears, but you expected that by eventually reaching terminal velocity from this height. You open your eyes and are standing on an outstretched infinite path within an ever-expanding universe. Before you is a HUGE hulking creature with glowing eyes.

“What’s happening? Where am I?” You are simultaneously shocked, afraid, and unsure if this is all a dream.

The creature stares down, sizing you up.

“ In The World Between Worlds.”

“Am I dead???”

“No. It is not yet your time. You are here to finish your training.”

“My friends need my help! I need to get back to them!!!”

“You will return to help them; it is part of your training.”

“Who are you?”

“That matters not. Only your path is of importance. You cannot progress until your training is finished. The lives within your care hang in the balance. You and your group are linked together in that realm. Your failure will be their failure...until you succeed. Then you will be released from this realm to continue your path.”

It feels like the creature is staring into your soul, “The point of entry is behind you.”

You turn around to see...a doorway? A dark threshold surrounded by cryptic symbols, suspended among stars.

“Are you ready?”

“No! I...”

“Begin!”

Your vision becomes a blur as you leave that place and return to where you were standing before falling off the platform. The vertigo messes with your senses, and it all feels like you had a momentary hallucination. Now back in this moment, you quickly spring into action.

You yell “NO WRECKER” immediately and Wrecker stops in his tracks. Hunter is sensing something, but unsure what it is. The Stormtrooper grabs you as a shield. A second trooper grabs Omega and drags her away. Omega starts using swears that only Echo could come up with as she is taken. The Batch stand with blasters trained on the stormtroopers in defense but not wanting to hit you in the crossfire. The trooper violently puts a foot in your ass and kicks you off the platform, then commences to start firing on the Batch. You free fall down the chasm and...

...pass The World Between Worlds for a split second, and then appear back onto the platform.

You try again.

Omega is led away swearing up a storm while the stormtrooper is holding onto you. Hunter calls to you, and in that moment, you sense the concern and love in his heart. You also sense a dark presence in the Force, look up to the platform above and see Crosshair with his Firepuncher trained on you. He was watching this exchange the whole time, waiting for the opportunity to shoot. In his jealousy and anger, he fires, hitting you dead center between the eyes. The very last thing you see is Cross grinning as he hears Hunter lose his shit.

The fabric of the connected realms brushes past you.

Again.

You yank the stormtrooper into Crosshairs blaster bolt as his body is hit, he stumbles into Omega and both fall off the platform to their impending deaths. The stormtrooper behind him, seeing the target they were looking to take is now gone, opens fire on you. You fall off the platform.

Again.

Before the trooper can grab you, you grab Omega and jump off the platform into the chasm. With any luck, you can use the force to stop yourselves before hitting bottom. Unfortunately, you and Omega’s fall velocity was too much for your Force abilities.

Again.

You grab Omega but try to save only her. As you fall past hundreds of platforms, you try to yeet her onto one as you fall. You are falling too fast, and your throw was severely off. You hear a sickening thud as she hits something.

Again.

You attempt to Force jump, and only make it just short of the other side. You yeet Omega across the chasm towards the Batch, Hunter jumps for her from the other side, and she slips from his grasp. You hear them both scream above you as you fall. Fortunately, Tech and Wrecker send out their grappling cables and catch both. Blaster fire starts from the stormtroopers. Tech is hit, falls off the platform, and takes Omega with him since she is attached to his cable.

Again.

You Force jump again, Hunter jumps but misses Omega. Knowing Wrecker will catch Hunter with his grappling hook, you send out a Force block in front of Tech. He is shielded from blaster fire, but Wrecker is hit by several bolts. He falls off the platform taking Hunter with him. You hear Wrecker's insanely terrified scream as you all fall. Hunter sends out his grappling cable and it catches. His fall is stopped, but Wrecker’s weight wrenches Hunters body horribly. He screams out in agony as he feels muscles tear. They are hanging and safe momentarily...or so it seems. A shot is heard from Firepuncher and Hunters cable is severed. Both Batchers scream as they fall.

You try to hold onto the edges of the realm as you pass through, but it evades your grasp.

Again.

You grab the lead stormtroopers gun while he is still holding onto it and keep pushing his finger onto the trigger, you shoot him and several other imps. You fire several shots towards Crosshair, preventing him from shooting at you. However, one hotshot trooper in the back squeezes off and hits you right in the back fatally.

Again.

Same scenario, but you spin the trooper around and use him as a human shield and the hotshot misses you. However, Crosshair blasts you at the base of your skull. The last thing you see is Omega’s terrified expression as you fall onto the platform next to your teeth his shot loosened in the blast.

AGAIN?

You are getting sick of playing this fucked up reset game already. In your anger, you quickly grab the stormtrooper and throw his ass off the platform. The Batch and Omega watch shocked at your anger. The other stormtroopers are taken by surprise, as you advance on them and grab another. Crosshair is attempting to aim, but you are moving too much. The hotshot trooper aims his weapon. You and the trooper in your grasp struggle violently. The hotshot cannot get a good clear shot. Finally, he squeezes one off and misses you. However, he didn’t consider where Omega is standing, and she takes a direct hit. You hear your Batchmates scream in outrage. You scream in outrage. The hotshot screams in frustration, then double taps you and the trooper in your grasp in the head simultaneously.

AGAIN??

You grab the stormtroopers gun while still in his hand and shoot yourself in the head. You just want this exhausting mess to be over.

AGAIN???

You fall onto the platform in a crumpled pile crying. Stormtroopers AND Crosshair shoot you at the same time, resulting in a horrible, charred mess.

AGAIN???

You scream bloody murder and obscenities at Crosshair. He shoots you between the eyes.

AGAIN!

You jump off the edge of the platform screaming obscenities like a crazy person.

Before reset, you see the expression on the creatures face. He looks disappointed and replies, “You aren’t even trying. Reach out beyond the boundaries of your realm” As you angrily try to spout off to him, you are thrown violently into the next reset.

AGAIN!!!

Standing on the platform, you take a deep breath and survey the scene. You mull over the creatures words. Time seems to slow down: You sense the stormtroopers behind you, looking into each of eyes of the Batch; Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, up to Crosshair, finally resting on Omega. You mouth, “Trust me” to her and she nods.

Time suddenly slams into overdrive, and you instantly pivot to bearhug Omega. The trooper misses your shoulder and grabs open air. The shot from Crosshair’s Firepuncher, originally meant for you, hits the trooper right between the eyes and he falls off the platform. You reach deep within the Force, grab the thin tether of this realm and open it wide. You then realize you were only meant to grasp it at the start of your actions, not at the end. You “push” through with the Force, taking Omega with you. As you “slide” from one location to another, you pass the creature. He nods as you pass from the world you left only a millisecond ago, through the timeless World Between Worlds.

“Congratulations, Jedi! Your training is complete.”

You part the curtain to your world again, entering behind the Batch. Hunter, before his eyes even register your disappearance on the opposite platform, senses a presence behind them. His head whips around to see you and Omega are now out of harm's way. His jaw drops inside his helmet. Tech, seeing Hunters reaction, immediately spins around, his eyes are visibly dumbfounded “What? How?” Wrecker calmly looks behind him, seeing you and Omega there safely, doesn’t question. He barks, “MUAHAHAHA! YEAH!!!” and opens fire on all the befuddled stormtroopers standing on the opposite platform.

With Wreckers cover fire, Hunter grabs Omega and runs down the hallway while yelling, “Let’s go!” Tech runs past and grabs your hand. He’s usually not touchy feely, but somewhere deep in his logical brain he understands that whatever happened saved your and Omega’s life. All the quick calculations he was running in his brain logically ended in you both dying. Wrecker is happily hopped up on blaster fire and the relief you are both safe. He follows running behind.

Crosshair is left on his sniper's roost. He hasn’t EVER missed a target. This was his first time. You were there one second and gone next to his surprise. Stares down at all the dead troopers laying on the platform below, gnawing hard on his toothpick. He’s angry...but intrigued. Maybe instead of killing you outright next time, he can land a stunning blow. The Empire might be VERY interested if he brought you in alive. Cross sprints away down a shortcut.

Your group reaches the end of the hallway and bursts out into the ship hangar bay. A large battalion of stormtroopers meet you there, with guns aimed. You all stop, out of breath, and possibly out of luck. Echo swoops in with the Marauder hovering and laying down suppressive cannon fire. Unfortunately, there are too many imps for him to dispatch while also landing successfully. Hunter and Tech are furiously looking for a way out.

You reach out with the Force and envelope Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, and Omega. Before opening the fabric of this realm, you feel eyes on you. Looking to a ledge several stories up, Crosshair meets your gaze. You both stare intensely into each other. Without even realizing it, you reach out and speak with the Force:

“Why???”

“Because...” Slight shock registering on Crosshair’s face “...I can.”

“You’ll regret this someday...when you’re all alone.”

“I already am.” He’s angry and hurt. There is nothing more you can say.

You slide through, taking all the Batchers with you and suddenly appearing within the Marauder.

Wrecker: “WHOA!”

Tech: Speechless, wide eyed...and STILL holding your hand.

Omega: Dizzy and winded.

Hunter: Rips helmet off his head. His expression is wild eyed and looks like he saw some serious shit. "What was that place? Who was that creature?”

Echo: Spins around in the pilot’s chair, eyes wide “WHAT THE FUCK!!!”

You grin. And watch the Batch trying to piece together their sudden location movement and glimpse of the creature between worlds.

Giving the order to Echo you bark, “Let’s go, soldier!”

He’s still sitting there with a shocked expression, then laser blasts pepper the ship, and he regains composure. Echo flies the Marauder out of the Imperial facility, off the planet, scrambles the ships jump signature, and punches it into hyperspace.

************************************************************************

Should I pursue certain plot points further and make this MORE than a one shot? What develops with Crosshair? Tech's hand holding awakening? Why was Hunter the only one to actually see the creature? Or whatever else you might want to explore? PLEASE message me or leave a comment! AND, PLEASE REBLOG! Thanks!!!

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