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yall-hate-kids-tourney · 1 month

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Round 4: Mabel Pines (Gravity Falls) vs. Amane Momose (MILGRAM)

Propaganda below the cut

Mabel Pines (12):

I literally saw a tiktok today about how Mabel is a bad person. She’s 12! Like yes, she has made some mistakes and bad choices, but so has everyone else. And I never see any of the other characters in the show criticized the way she is. Everyone in the show has made mistakes (Grunkle Stan commits crimes practically every episode ffs) but because Mabel is a 12 year old girl and acts like it, she gets the most hate. Mabel deserves to be loved 🩷

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girl gets so much flack for being... immature and kind of selfish at age 12? like she had whole video essays made on why she is a horrible person who deserves punishment. god forbid girls be silly

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!!! Spoilers for Gravity Falls last 5 episodes !!!

This has gone down a lot but when the Weirdmaggedon arc was happening, the finale of the series, a big part of the fandom started hating Mabel because she accidentally caused the Weirdmaggedon (basically an apocalypse + bizarre shit like the water tower becoming an eight-legged monster with a giant mouth).

For context, in the episode that starts this arc, "Dipper and Mabel vs The Future", Mabel is really excited to the end of their summer vacation at Grunkle Stan's house, since it will be her and Dipper's 13th birthday and they will enter high school (her idea of high school of course coming from teen movies). But then this whole idea starts to shatter when Wendy tells her that high school isn't like a Disney musical, but it's okay, she will get through this since she will be with Dipper, her twin brother...

Except, that Dipper receives an invitation by Grunkle Stan's scientist brother Ford to become his apprentice after summer ends, staying in Gravity Falls, without Mabel. When she discovers it, she gets really mad at him and in a fit of rage, she accidentally picks Dipper's bag instead of hers and runs off to the woods.

When she gets there, Blendin, a time-travelling friend of theirs finds her and tells her that he has a way of making her brother stay with her, and make the summer take a little more to end, and that he just needed a little thing that Dipper has in his bag. That thing is a dimensional rift that Dipper and Ford contained to not cause the Weirdmaggedon, but Mabel didn't knew about that and gives it to Blendin. Blendin then breaks it and it's revealed that Bill Cipher was controlling Blendin to get the rift and release the Weirdmaggedon. He then traps Mabel in a bubble, starting the final arc of the series.

So, a few episodes later, that bubble she's in is revealed to be a world of fantasy that she controls, and that she didn't want to leave that world, as she was scared of growing up etc.

Context given, A LOT OF PEOPLE HATED HER FOR THIS. Suddenly people started seeing Mabel as just a selfish girl who wanted things only her way, when she was only a 12-year-old scared of growing up without her twin brother (they do end up going back together at the end but still).

The worst part is that apparently the people behind it took note of this, and on the comics that where released after the finale, she is a selfish spoiled brat. I haven't read the comics though so I'm going off what some people said about it.

Amane Momose (12):

Amane was voted guilty in the first trial so that she would acknowledge her guilt. It backfired, and now she’s considered a threat. Well, everyone is a threat, but nobody’s threat level has been as heavily discussed and debated as hers. Consider the next prisoner in line, Mikoto. He’s objectively more dangerous and cannot be restrained. He beat up the guard in trial 1, and he was able to hold his own when the other guilty prisoners were attacked. But a good incentive to forgive him is so that he will calm down. You know what? That’s a good incentive to forgive Amane too! But she *can* be restrained, so a good portion of the discussion went into how she should be voted guilty so she *will* be restrained and not a threat. Since her vote was a near 50/50, of course a good chunk of the voters expressed dissatisfaction with her forgiven verdict. Some are already planning to vote her guilty for trial 3, calling her a “lost cause”. She hasn’t even done any concrete harm yet. Hold the pitchforks until she actually causes harm, please? And what if she *was* voted guilty in trial 2? We’ve been warned that she will continue to deny our judgement. A second guilty verdict won’t make her better either, and then what? She’d be called a “lost cause” as well. There is no winning with her.

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Where do I even start? So first of all she’s an cult child who was physically and mentally abused and tortured by her parents and then (presumably) murdered her mother after her mother killed a cat that she took care of.

Now everyone in Milgram is a murderer but when Amane came and her MV showed her murder and circumstance in an admittedly highly fictionalized depiction of it the audience decided to…repeat the cycle of abuse!

She was voted guilty for the main reason of “teaching her” and helping her “realize that she was abused.” I would like to note that this tough love approach is something her parents utilized against her. “We are only doing this to help you.”

So the audience replicates Amane’s abusers and repeats the cycle of abuse and that’s pretty shitty but it isn’t exactly “Fuck Em Kids” level.

And then Trial 2 happened. Cause Amane is bitter and angry and horrifically traumatized so she acts aggressive and hostile. Especially towards another prisoner.

Now, again, everyone here is a fucking murderer (of atleast could be constructed as one) These people being able to Harm is a core concept of this series.

Yet for some reason it feels like people treat Amane as a “delusional creepy kid who wants to kill people” which completly takes away the nuance of her character. She does have the capacity to harm! Everyone here does! She’s not Uniquly Dangerous! She just has a Reason to be Dangerous. A Reason we GAVE HER by REPEATING THE CYCLE OF ABUSE.

In short: In a series full of Murderers I’m honestly a bit pissed that the 12 year old abuse victim is the one who’s treated like the guy from American Pyscho.

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TL;DR: "We metavoted this abused, indoctrinated child guilty in trial 1, but it didn't work. Now she is a threat to three grown adults: one who is fully free and two whom she has been shown to get along with. Please metavote her guilty again so she will be restrained and unable to attack them, even though that means subjecting her to further psychological torture." Amane Momose is the youngest of ten murderers, prisoners of Milgram who are to be judged innocent (forgiven) or guilty (unforgiven). In the first interrogation (voice drama), she said that what she did was in line with her religion's doctrines. If we judged her the "wrong way", she said she will just deny the verdict. Combining the voice drama and music video, you could piece together that she was raised in a cult and abused, even though she is cheerful and downplays her pain. She never shows *who* she killed, only *why* she did. After the first day of her vote, she was 81% innocent, but this wouldn't last the whole three months. Many people voted her guilty so she would "see her sins", part of the practice commonly known as "metavoting". Her innocent percentage rapidly decreased, and she hit guilty in the last 15 days, finishing at 51% guilty. At the end of the first trial, Jackalope (who is something like a host) went over all the prisoners' verdicts and commented on the general reasoning. When he got to Amane, he *laughed* at the audience for voting that way to make her realize her sins. Trial 2 rolled around, and it was revealed that Amane's victim was her abuser. On day one, she was at 74% innocent. Seems like a cut-and-dry case now, right? Well... in the intermission, two of the prisoners (Fuuta and Mahiru) were badly beaten up and became reliant on the care of Shidou, a doctor. Amane became hostile to Shidou because what he was doing was against her beliefs. She visited all three of them on their birthdays to convince them to change their ways. She seems to be especially close to Fuuta, who is now murmuring about salvation. Guilty prisoners are psychologically tortured, forced to listen to voices that reject their beliefs. Fuuta and Mahiru both say that the mental strain is worse than their physical injuries. But Amane, who also looks worse for wear, was thrown under the bus because she isn't injured and is considered a physical threat to them (never mind that she gets along with them). She's considered a threat to Shidou, a grown man who is twice her size and fully free, while she is partially restricted by the long sleeves in her trial 2 uniform. She might indoctrinate Fuuta even though, in a prison of ten people and one guard, she's the only voice of her cult. Fortunately, she got a break. Her vote was falling at a similar rate to the first trial. But this time, it stabilized at 51% innocent, 12 days before the end of her vote. But there's no way this is over.

#yall hate kids tourney #round 4 #gravity falls #mabel pines #milgram #milgram project #amane momose #momose amane #cw child abuse #cw cults #cw torture #cw psychological torture #cw animal death

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kerubimcrepin · 12 days

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Liveblog - Dofus, livre 1 : Julith [PART 23]

I think after this it's kinda natural that Joris will never ever put his trust into anyone that isn't Kerubim or Atcham ever again.

I am once again asking why Kerubim has these books and what was he doing at devil's sacrament.

He's never beating those necromancy allegations.

There's a canonical name for the evil-ass looking huppermages.

youtube

Once again, this is Them in Dofus 2 when they reveal to Joris that they framed Julith or something. (source: my beautiful mind)

The Dessous comic implies that Marline bought this stuff from Kerubim which is so funny. It's beautiful how little of a shit the man gives for the safety of others.

I may not like Khan in his present form, as a macho gobbowler, but I like the idea of him. Joris, and his little "ghnhnn I have to do what's right, I have sacrifice my happinesss for other people" complex needs someone like that in his life who will buy him alcohol and help him run away from home when he's 14-16.

I'm sure if given another movie, or a show, Ankama's plan would have been to make Khan more likeable. He seems like a ride-or-die friend.

A scene ago he was in Julith's arms. So, she found it important to get him into the arms of this dofus-powered doll. Personally, I like to think that he started thrashing and maybe even bit her.

What did she lie about though? Liking him? Not wanting the Dofus? Being a competent person and not a fuck-up? (I love Bakara and say all of this with affection)

Once again, I empathize, that Julith was gloating about this to Bakara. That she doesn't really care about Joris (and by extension, Joris's feelings.)

She is killing a thousand people, who did nothing to her. These are civilians who came to watch a sports match. How many mothers are here with their sons and daughters who just wanted to look at their idols? If Joris never had Grougalorasalar's soul, if he and Kerubim never learned of her plan, THEY would have been among these viewers.

Julith is a very interesting character because she's ruthless, she has no morals, absolutely no understanding or compassion for others, — even Bakara or her own son, — and yet she is driven by love almost entirely. And that's her one redeeming quality.

But also — does it really change things, when you're driven by love to kill a thousand innocent people? To ruin your son's life? Because it doesn't really change much, to me...

I think there's a tragedy in that. She does love the idea of Joris. She loves what she sees of him, his voice, his face, and eyes. If she learned more about him, she'd probably love the parts he didn't show too. She'd love to see how he grew up.

She'd love how committed he is to those he loves. She'd love his ruthless march towards what he thinks is right that will allow him to close his eyes as he does unforgivable things. The only thing she would dislike is his loyalty to Bonta.

But the reverse will never be true. Joris can become a warmonger, a dictator, and a war criminal, but he would loathe to place his needs above those of others. He wouldn't do horrible things if he didn't think it was for the greater good of mankind.

As a 600yo man, Joris has lived through two apocalypses, — and yet people like Nox and Julith will lose 1-4 loved ones and go insane, killing people. I doubt he feels much for her, except for disgust.

Their friendship is so important to me. But also, somewhere out there, Tatak is crying.

I think one of the great tragedies of Joris's character is that he is doomed to break his own moral code, slowly but surely.

One must imagine Joris Jurgen living happily with the blood of innocents on his hands, because the alternative is more haunting.

One of her main issues is that she projects the actions of a few onto literally everyone in Bonta. Which is a very crazy fucking reach.

But I understand how she arrived at this reach to begin with: I don't think she was ever happy, before Jahash, and when she finally was happy, for once in her entire life, they took even that away from her.

You wanna know who else in this scene is going to have only 2 people who give meaning to his life? Jo—— [I am forcefully restrained by the police]

I just really like pointing out the similarities between Joris and Julith, — and the way these similarities underline their differences.

Once again: she doesn't give a shit about anyone's opinion. She is betting everything onto a nebulous future where Joris and Jahash and Bakara forgive and forget everything she did, and they live as a happy Fambly (in Brakmar, because that's a GOOD city and they will LOVE to move there, after being no longer welcome in Bonta due to the 1000 dead people.)

(Guy whose very emotional and Julith and Joris voice) guys I think she's starting to realize that their familial relationship is going to be unfixable.

Joris and everyone present here are quite aware that stopping this will kill one of them.

They are also very aware that one dead person is better than a thousand.

#ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #dofusmovie #joris jurgen #Youtube

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chronically-ghosted · 2 months

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you got your claws in me honey, like a tiger in love

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: you arrive at your estranged uncle's door. what else is there to do but catch up over grilled cheese? well, if you have anything to say about it, you might end up doing a bit more.

warnings: dbf!dieter, grilled cheese as a way to guilt trip your dad's best friend/uncle into fucking you, drug use (weed), raising arizona that comes with its own warning, flirting with someone twice your age, no smut — that’s what part 2 is for, reminiscing, a cliffhanger? 👀

a/n: the original fic came out MONTHS before the mcu rumors, so either i have precognition, or the apocalypse is becoming predicable. happy valentine's day you filthy animals because nothing says romance like porking your dad's best friend

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From the voicemail of Mr. Paul Landeau, official Hollywood talent manager and agent to one Mr. Dieter Bravo . . .

Tuesday, 6:43PM

No, I’m not doing it. I’m not.

There has to be something else out there. Look, I know Fire Monsters: A Cliff Beasts story didn’t do as well as we hoped, but Reddit says it could be a cult classic so why don’t you focus on making that happen, okay? Instead of giving me shit roles like this. I’m not doing it.

– the sound of a door opening and the phone being shuffled – – a zipper rips – – liquid pouring –

We fucking talked about this, man. I told you I needed something different, something new. Tiktok is just reels of me screaming and dying – it’s fucking bullshit –

– more liquid –

I’m done playing the fucking bad guy. I’m not signing any more headless action figures for those little snot-nosed, little fuckers in line. I’m not asking to sign their moms’ tits, either – okay, maybe – but Jesus Christ, Paul, what you sent over is, like, the opposite of where I need to be. It’s for little teeny boppers with one or two B horror movies under their belt to finally break out into the mainstream – or where actors over forty go to cash in an easy paycheck. And yes, I fucking know we need something, but fuck – is this really all there is?

– liquid stops pouring – – zipper rips – – the sound of a toilet flushing –

Don’t fucking call me back, Paul, unless you’ve got something. Something real.

Tuesday, 8:23PM

OW! Motherf–

– a skillet clattering –

Okay – fuck, that hurts – okay, Paul, what about this? It came to me in the bathroom. Remember Jack from the Christmas party at the studio’s place? So, he’s got those two Sundance films, right, but they’re in Spanish, so not appealing to an American audience. Nicki told me that he’s thinking about doing another project, one with a wider appeal, and I’m thinking I should totally give him a call. I think we could vibe. I really liked his stuff – reminded me of my old small town, fucking around with the neighbor kids, you know? Kinda hometown hero sort of thing.

– sharp inhale then a cough –

It’s not my usual thing, but I think we should give it a try. Gimme a call.

Oh, do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? Been craving one but I think I might burn down my house if I try again and UberEats doesn’t reach the good places further south. Oh, fuck, wait –

Hey Google, how do you make a fucking excellent grilled cheese?

Tuesday, 9:21PM

No, fucking–

Siri – how.do.you.treat.a.burn?

Calling. . . Burger King . . .

No! Fuck!

Tuesday, 10:49PM

Paul-y! Baby! Paul-ito!

Don’t worry. I got an idea that’s going to make us a million dollars.

A shop that makes only grilled cheese. But like – fancy grilled cheese. What do the kids fucking call it, ah – boogie – yeah, boogie grilled cheese. Like gouda and white cheddar, and butter churned by blind nuns or some shit. Tomato soups that have been blessed by the Dalai Lama.

Big sign out front that says, Vegans Can Eat Shit.

They’ll eat it up.

Fuck yeah, they will.

– silence for three minutes and sixteen seconds –

Fuck acting, man. Fuck this place.

And fuck this fucking cheese that keeps burning – goddamn it!

Tuesday, 11:52PM

Paul, why don’t we hang out anymore?

When I got started, we hung out all the time, man.

Hot dogs on the Santa Monica pier. Beer in the Pacific Ocean.

You showed me all the cool spots that no one else in LA knew about. You got me my first bump and my first stripper. God, that was fucking wild, man, you remember? I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. Did I ever tell you that before? Coke probably didn’t help a kid from a small town in South Cali, but – fuck, it made me feel better. Like I could get my shit together if I really tried.

What, are you too good for me now – is that it? Am I not good enough for you, huh?

Look, I’ve got Raising Arizona on right now, so why don’t you come over with a six pack –

Oh, shit, that’s right. You got a fucking family now.

Not a good influence, ol’ Dee.

Not a good –

Wednesday, 1:05AM

Fine, Paul. Fine.

I’ll play Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot.

Dieter’s thumb brushes the red End Call button and tosses his phone onto the kitchen island with a growl. He can feel himself coming down from the bump earlier – a thing he absolutely did not want to happen – and he shoves his palms into his eye sockets.

There is more coke upstairs, but that would require him to walk through his very long hallways to get there. Very long, and dark, and empty hallways.

He should have asked Maria to stay once she was done with the laundry. He would have done it right too – big bowl of popcorn, fully dressed, with a sign around his neck that said, I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you.

He is becoming increasingly aware of how many erratic voicemails he just left for his agent, aware that behavior like that was libel to get him a sit down in Paul’s office with all the blinds and windows closed, Paul’s narrow face serious and using Concerned Emotion #5, as he asks, “do we need to go back to rehab, Dieter?”

We.

There once was a “we”, now there was just “he” – in a house with seven bedrooms and a pool that could fit a sixteen wheeler in it.

And TWO kitchens – why the fuck did he think he needed two kitchens –

Well, he knew he didn’t need two, but it would have been cool to show them off to someone – If there was anyone to show them off to . . .

Fuck this downer mood.

Dieter snatches up his phone again, and the movement brings up his latest apps. UberEats is the second one. He taps in a few keywords, blatantly ignoring his latest call list.

Goddamn Burger King . . .

The front doorbell rings.

Dieter frowns, pulling the screen closer under his big nose. Now, he knows he is high and he knows he should be wearing his glasses when reading but there’s no fucking way . . .

He goes out of the kitchen, the room still smelling of burnt cheese with the cast iron skillet in the sink and a black husk sticking to its bottom. He goes left, then right, his robe tightly wrapped around him as if he is some huffy housewife, then down a hall and across the marble entrance way – fuming – why is this house so goddamn huge – who thought this was a good idea?

And so he wrenches open the front door – to a girl, not holding a Burger King bag. No, she’s got a roller suitcase behind her, bright blue, and she and the case are dripping wet. Like, just sprayed with a hose kind of wet and her big bottom lip is trembling. Behind her, the sky pukes buckets of rain, groaning with thunder.

Now, he likes his call girls (he always thought it was classier to call them that) a little more . . . vampy than this, but hell, he had been turned on by much less than this— than her with her big eyes, fat droplets rolling off her lashes, flushed cheeks – and oh, shit, her shirt is totally see-through – is that purple, he feels the back of his mouth flush with spit – wow, is this Paul’s way of apology because –

“Uncle Dee?”

And he’s mentally shoving himself back into his pants because no one in years has called him that and that was a very different time in place, when he was a completely different person and if this girl is the person he thinks it is, then – Jesus Christ, he’s bound and gagged straight for hell –

He squeaks out your name and you smile, sort of grimace, at him and wave.

“Yep, it’s me. Been awhile, right?” You finally give into the mortification of your stupid plan and you scrunch up your face, your hand wrapped around your elbow. “Look, I’m so sorry, this is too weird. I don’t have your number, but I panicked when my flight got canceled and my phone’s dead and you’re the only person I know in LA and –,”

“No, no – you’re fine – sorry–,” Dieter blinks before stepping back and letting you through. You sigh in relief and yank your baby blue suitcase over the threshold as you walk in, dripping water everywhere. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night and for, like, two seconds, I thought . . . nevermind . . .”

I thought you were a fucking ghost.

You bite the corner of your lip, glancing at him, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off your one chance at not sleeping on the ground tonight — or if what you were about to say would piss him off in the first place.

“Yeah, well, it’s been eleven years since we last saw you, Uncle Dee.”

Early on in his career, he wanted to build up rep as not only an actor but a real tough guy, so he asked if he could do some stunts for an old cop show. For all his bravado, he ended up getting a real round-house kick to the face and it sent him reeling.

This feels a little bit like that.

“No way, it can’t have been that long. Besides, I know I left my number with your dad or your grandma before I left and —,”

His throat closes up when very old guilt washes over him. It’s intensified when you give him an uncomfortable look.

“So your dad didn’t give you my number then.”

It’s not a question. You shake your head. You don’t tell him that your dad tried to call years ago and got a busy tone for the first few, and then a few years after that, was brusquely informed the line had been disconnected.

He chews on his lip.

You try to smile at him again but then another shiver takes hold of you and Dieter grimaces. “Shit, sorry, one second. I think this closet down here has towels.”

He all but sprint-walks down one of the many halls branching off from the entrance, the ends of his robes flapping. You hear the creak of doors, several, as he digs around in the walls.

“Why do I have so many fucking linens?” You hear him grumble and you smile to yourself. You feel like you need to wring your hair out but wouldn’t dare move from the spot where he left you.

After a thump and more grumbling, he comes back, rubbing the back of his head, but holding out a giant lime green towel. In the light, you can see the dark circles under his eyes when you take the towel and immediately go to stop your hair from dripping on the marble.

His brain is waffling, ping ponging, between his memories and what is standing right in front of him. This? This is the little girl, not his literal blood relative, but she’s Enrico’s kid – Enrico, a slugger and one hell of a outfielder since he was eight years old, whose mom made enchiladas like nobody else in the goddamn world – Enrico, whose house became like a second home, Ricky's family a better family than his own – this is the same girl who hoarded Skittles like a fiend, the same one who he took to the pool on the weekends in the summer, and the zoo during Thanksgiving break? This little girl –

– is the same girl who is all legs under damp denim, eyes that could make Cleopatra fly into a jealous rage, and a fucking rockstar smile?

And, holy shit, those tits –

Dude, you cannot be checking her out. Dig deep and fight your fucking caveman brain. You’ve fucked up a lot in your life and you cannot do that right now. You cannot do that to Enrico.

You cannot do that to her.

You notice him grimace as he squints into the light of the chandelier above you both. “So, uh, not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here? I mean –,”

You laugh and it seems to echo in the empty house. “No, that’s a fair question. I was on a flight back from looking at colleges out east and my flight got grounded in LAX because of the storm. I absolutely don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel or rent a car and drive back home, so I needed a place to crash and call my sister to send me some money. And my stupid driver didn’t want to get flagged for harassing a celebrity, so he dropped me off at the corner, hence . . .”

You wave at yourself and inside his slippers, his toes curl, respectfully not looking at your damp legs and a definitely purple bra visible through your shirt.

Your mouth suddenly capsizes. “Shit, is that okay, if I stay here for a night? I didn’t even think - I - I’m not . . . interrupting anything, am I?”

Dieter chuckles, your expression undeniably cute, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe.

“Nah. Not unless you call making the worst grilled cheese imaginable a party.”

At that moment, your stomach chooses to make the most aggressive growl in your entire life and you flush deeper than the cold outside.

“Apparently someone thinks that’s a good idea,” you chuckle weakly, horrified that your body is actively trying to sabotage a normal conversation.

Did it matter that you had posters of him in your bedroom when you were thirteen? That you went to midnight releases of every one of his movies?

No. Not at all.

“I got some food, mostly leftovers.” He worries at his lip as he realizes the only thing by way of something green in his fridge is the jar of olives he got for martinis. Even then, he has a sneaking suspicion he replaced the olive juice with vodka, but the memory of that night is entirely butchered. “But, uh, I’m sure we can find something.”

You smile at him. “Actually, grilled cheese sounds great.”

“Only if you do it.” He smiles, honestly, when you laugh. “What? Don’t laugh — I’m serious. I can’t make a sandwich to save my fucking life.”

“Pretty sure I can manage two slices of bread and cheese.”

His eyebrows jump as his lips press themselves together and you watch the thumb-sized bare spot on his beard twitch.

“Yeah, that’s what you think and then your goddamn kitchen is on fire.”

“Lemme change, do some rocket surgery and brain science, and then I’ll attempt to crack this grilled cheese thing.”

“Okay, but remember we do have Chinese leftovers and I can definitely crush a microwave. This way.”

You follow him through the halls, his shoulders loosening underneath the off-green fuzz, and you try and not to stare at the immaculately beautiful walls and expansive, clean floors, so your eyes wander, and then you’re trying not to stare at the immaculately beautiful man in front of you.

You push away the thought that this house looks nothing like you’d expect someone like Dieter to have, as he leads you to the kitchen — all black and chrome and steel, like what a Norwegian serial killer would have — and nods to a door towards the opposite wall. He’s digging around for the last slices of white bread when he says,

“Bathroom’s down there. I’ll get it all ready, but I’m leaving it up to you. Can’t afford to lose another pan.”

Your eyes finally drift down from the bare walls, unsure if you should be offended that nothing of the family back home is here, or accept that there was just nothing personal anywhere. You smile gently at him and nod in thanks.

He watches you go, that bright blue suitcase flashing as loud as a tornado siren, and he shakes his head. God, he needs a drink but drinking also makes him horny and he needs every mental facility available to him if he wis going to make it through this night with his sanity still intact.

Had it really been eleven years? He always meant to call up Enrico and the old neighborhood gang. He probably forgot about that last fight anyway – even if Dieter hadn’t – even if it wasn’t more than a decade ago. Mama Gonzales always said there’d be a place for him, even after his own father said acting was for maricos and drag queens. It always hurt more when the postcards from the Gonzales family stopped coming than when Mom stopped calling. And he always meant to send back a proper return address when he moved out of that crappy loft after his first real movie premiere but that was the 90s, and much of the 90s was spent between working shit jobs and drooling on the floors of rave warehouses. It wasn’t them specifically he didn’t want to see him like that, but anyone. Anyone who knew him before Dieter Bravo.

Certainly not anyone who called him Uncle Dee —

Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he realizes he’s always fucking hated the fact that the a) the back of his house is just one big window and b) he never bothered to put in curtains. Because, the thing with windows is they reflect things — things like his pseudo-niece taking her top off in his guest bathroom. Reflected and in full color right across his kitchen island like the sexiest hologram that will haunt his fucking wet dreams until the day hell freezes over.

Yep, that’s definitely your hips, your ribs, and okay—

Nope. Absolutely not.

Dieter’s knees give out and he crouches (more like slumps) to the floor behind the island, his palms so far in his eye sockets he can only see stars.

Yeah, only stars. Focus on the stars, not the image of the curve of your gorgeous tits that’s running around his brain like a child with scissors and a Thanatos instinct off the fucking charts.

Fuck, and he just wanted to get high and watch Nicholas Cage in a mullet.

“Hey, I’m done. Dee, you still here?”

He stifles a groan and stands up. You smile at him, the wet jeans and agonizing white tank top gone, only to be replaced by a black Fleetwood Mac tshirt and — fuck, where are your pants?

You lower the handle to your suitcase and go to stow by the bathroom door. And that’s when he realizes you are actually wearing pants, black shorts that are practically hidden by the oversized t-shirt and are comically, hilariously, painfully small. He can’t actually see the curve of your ass as you walk around the side of the island but he is absolutely not going to let his gaze linger long enough to confirm.

He clears his throat as you come to stand beside him. He gestures to the four pieces of white bread and a stack of Crafts American cheese.

“H-h-have —,” he clears his throat again and his forebearers groan collectively in embarrassment. “Have at it.”

You smile and tuck your hair over your ear before picking up the knife.

“D’you have mayonnaise? Butter?”

No amount of irredeemable hotness can distract him from that. “What? What do you need mayonnaise for? It’s grilled cheese.”

You cluck your tongue, an eyebrow raised. “Brain science and rocket surgery, remember? Don’t question the master.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he goes to his steel monolith of a fridge.

“Jeez, sorry, I asked,” he grumbles playfully.

He comes back with an (thankfully) unexpired jar and tub of butter and you get to work. Silence stretches a bit too long, something Dieter has never been good with, especially with beautiful women. He loves running his mouth and sometimes he's found that the women liked it too. He resigns himself to sit across from you at the island, watching you spread mayonnaise on both sides of the bread.

“So, uh, how are the folks? How’s your, uh, dad?”

You nod slowly and even though he hasn’t been around in eleven years to pick up on all your tells, he swears your hackles go up.

“Fine. All good. Dad’s still at the car repair shop — owns it now, actually. Makes decent money, I guess.”

“You guess?” He hadn’t made it his life’s work to mimic the human condition to not recognize cagey language.

You glance at him briefly before flipping over the last piece of bread and dropping a dollop of mayonnaise on top.

“Yeah. I — uh, we haven’t — I actually haven’t talked to them in a while. Though if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneak another glance, this one ladened with a smile that had a secret curled up in its corners. “Serves me right, probably.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

He can’t help but return the smile, one of a familiarity he hasn’t earned yet. You were smiling at him as if you two had years of secrets together, memories and inside jokes that were for the pair of you alone. For the life of him and all the water in his ridiculous pool, he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. Letting him off the hook. It had been eleven fucking years after all. There are a lot of things he takes guilt free from the world. Your fucking star-eyed smile is not one of them.

So, he lets you off the hook. He doesn’t push it. If you don’t want to talk about your folks, he is happy to chatter aimlessly about something else. But, his brain winds up, what happened that caused you to fall out with your parents? Enrico, even back then, had been a hard ass, with you and your brothers. Always made sure to walk the straight and narrow. Detested drugs, always shined his shoes, thought tattoos were the devil, never kissed a girl on the first date —

And here you are, making fucking mooneyes at his daughter.

Well, one thing was for sure, he muses, something warm spreading in his gut, you are nothing like your daddy.

The hiss of the bread hitting the hot butter in a pan (you didn’t even need to ask where another pan was, you just helped yourself to his cabinets and he couldn’t have been more proud) jerks him out of his daze and he realizes that annoying silence has set in again.

“So, colleges, huh? Anything in particular spark interest?”

You nod excitedly as he found a topic that made you glow. Clearly, no one had asked about your interests in a long time.

“Yeah, actually. Emerson in Boston was amazing. I loved the city, but not sure I’d survive the winter. Swarthmore sounds good, Amherst too, but again, cold.” You grin sheepishly and flip the sandwiches, pressing the spatula (he didn’t even know he owned one of those) into the bread, making the butter sizzle and the air fill with a smell that can only be described as mouth-watering.

“It’ll be a nightmare, taking out loans for those places, but fuck, I think I’d be really happy there.”

He leans against the counter, facing you with crossed arms. He smiles a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What, your folks wouldn’t pay for it? Or at least help out?”

Something sharp flashes in your eyes, like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator, before you shrug your shoulders flippantly. A well-worn deflection, he notes, right next to the place where he’s got all the places you mentioned are about as far away from California as possible. If you had mentioned somewhere in Europe, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Nah. I wouldn’t let them. Don’t want them thinking they get input into my life because they hold the purse strings over my head.” You turn off the stove and he moves to get the plates out from the cabinets – something to contribute as you made him a better meal than he’s had in ages.

“So, uh, we eat in there?” You glance down the hall to the eerily clean dining room, a place he’s pretty sure he’s never once set foot in after three years of living in this goddamn mansion.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, I already have a movie picked out.”

You follow him, plates hot, down carpeted stairs to clearly the only room in the house that Dieter actually lives in. The lights down here are low, much more bearable than the white spotlights of the kitchen. Against one wall, there’s a fully stocked bar, with most of the alcohol halfway empty and costing a fortune. Across from the stairs is a massive record collection, going up to the ceiling, next to a gorgeous old record player — all wood and black vinyl — with big, plushy earphones curled up on a black leather recliner.

But the star of the show is the wall-to-ceiling television, with a brown, mouse-soft leather sofa that wraps like a giddy, up-turned grin in front of it.

And of course, in between the superstar television and the cozy couch, is a low glass table where he had snorted lines of coke more times he could count and where a virgin joint sits, unsmoked and tempting.

Dieter flushes as though he’d been caught by his parents with his pants down around his ankles.

“Fuck, sorry–,” he rushes over, the plate clattering with the glass, and he reaches for the joint, ready to squish it into his pocket when–

You laugh. “Relax, Dee, I know what a joint is. In fact, we are very well acquainted.”

You fold yourself into the couch, legs crossed, grinning at him as you bite into your sandwich.

He swallows, unclenching slightly as he sits down next to you. He watches you eat for a moment, trying to think of something cool to say.

“Sounds like I’ve missed my calling as the fun uncle, getting you high for the first time and all that.”

You snort and swallow your mouthful. “Yeah, by like two fucking years.”

“Oh, what a fucking lifetime. You poor thing,” he says, pouting dramatically and you giggle again, bumping into his shoulder. It sends his sanity knocking around in his brain.

You don’t notice, though, your eyes falling to the joint in the small ceramic bowl. The smile slides from your face.

“Well, you might have missed my first joint, but I’d be more than happy to take this one as my next.”

His eyebrows practically bounce off his forehead. “You’re serious?”

Your eyes slide away from the joint to his, something distractingly dark hiding there. “I mean, if the parties on your Instagram are anything to go by . . . And, well, when in Rome . . .”

You trail off, smirking, gesturing around you as if you had any idea the levels of debauchery that were obtained in this very room. Come to think of it, he halfway considers picking you up off the couch and putting a towel down underneath your perfect ass.

This is how it went sometimes, with the slower hook ups. No wet clothes, or grilled cheese, or bringing up family trauma — but initial touches, curling smiles, and then drugs. Always drugs. As if there needed to be another hand that tore off the cap of the pressurized, fizzy soda bottle. He’d play music then, for them, to show off his vinyl collection and have a plausible reason to rub his dick between their ass cheeks while dancing slowly to something croon-y from the seventies.

Not that any of that would be happening with you.

He wasn’t a complete monster after all.

With a playful grin that he had mastered over many press junkets, he snatches up the joint and lighter, and presents both to you in the flat of his hand.

“First hit goes to you, since you were so kind to make dinner for an old fuck like me.”

You snort and put your plate onto the table, wiping your hands free of crumbs on your black shirt.

“Such a gentleman.”

With deft and practiced hands, you take the joint between your index finger and your thumb, and sparking the lighter, brought the flame to your lips.

Just for one second, one goddamn second, he swears he saw The Look reflected in your eyes. He glances away, his cock fluttering awake like goddamn Lassy hearing the calls of another well-begotten child. He picks up his own plate.

“Hardly. It was all a ploy to get you to admit you follow me on Instagram.”

You burst out coughing, smoke chugging from your nose and mouth. “Dieter!”

He cackles, his tongue between his teeth, as you shove him away from you — do not think about her fingers clenched around your bicep — try to sit up and inhale again. You hang your head and groan.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.”

“Yeah, and for that, I get two puffs,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, the rest of it full of the most perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Hand it over, princess.”

You hand over the lighter and the joint, the paper slightly greasy from your fingers, leaning back dramatically into one of the many plushy cup holder seats spread out along the very long couch.

He chuckles devilishly again, far too satisfied, as he lights up and leans back into the cushions.

“And, as gesture of goodwill, I’ll admit that’s a good fucking grilled cheese.”

Your eyes snap open and a wide grin splits your face. “Hell yes! Mayonnaise on both sides, butter on the side with cheese. Best family recipe. Mwah!”

“Fuck, even I know that’s too much cholesterol for me,” he grunts and digs into the cushions, feeling around for the remote.

“Well, that’s not enough cholesterol for me,” you wink as you take the joint from the hand on his thigh, eyes daring you to do something about it. Nowhere near high enough to take the bait, he just narrows his eyes at you as he clicks the button and the entertainment system comes to life with a primordial hum.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, eyes wide, as the speakers roar and the lights dim further and the screen glows, “it’s like I’m in a fucking movie theater . . . in space.”

“It’s great, right?” Dieter moans like a loving father over his first child. This thing is his pride and joy, the only thing he could stomach in this goddamn house.

The DVD buffer for Raising Arizona begins and you squeal quietly, sliding onto your back, the joint dangling between your lips.

“No fucking way, I love this movie.”

Dieter stilled. “Really? You do?”

The few times he felt nostalgic for his old life — his old, old life when he was still a kid from nowhere, a nobody, you couldn’t pick him out of a line up of his sweaty, grubby cousins when they were all cobbled together like crooked teeth in front of Abuela Josefina’s television that still had knobs and bunny ears to watch movie after movie of Nicholas Cage reruns. Even with knees in his back, elbows in his ears, Dieter could quote every single line, his heart swelling.

That’s gonna be me some day.

“This movie is from, like, another century,” he mutters as he watches you settle in, something sickening like adoration clawing up in his chest.

“Yeah and it’s great,” you say eagerly, ignoring the way he plucks the joint out of your fingers. “Put it on!”

He resolutely ignores the pinch in his low stomach at your almost whine and presseS the play button with a little more force than necessary. Then, balancing the joint on the ceramic bowl, he sticks his fingers into his robe, pulls out his glasses, and puts them on without a second thought – just as he always did when watching movies.

It is only when he realizes he doesn’t hear you breathing that he realizes what he has done. Slowly he pulls the square glasses off his face and looks at them, feeling as disgusted as the day his doctor put them in his hands.

Near-sighted. Very common. Happens when people as they age.

“Got ‘em–,” his throat closes again, “got ‘em a few years ago. Only have to wear ‘em to see things up close and, uh . . . Well, I think they make me look old as shit.”

He can’t quite look at you, unsure what he’ll see on your face and knowing for sure that he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t the way you look at him before. If you just would tease him about it, then —

“No,” you say, your voice very soft and small. His heart nearly punches out his throat, his neck nearly snapping in half as his head whips up to look at you. You sit up on your elbows, the darkness of the room cushioning your soft cheeks and muting the glaze in your eyes as you watch him over the bend of your knees.

“Nah,” you say, your nose scrunching, the weight of the high clearly settling into your skin, “they make you look . . . Uh, they’re cute.”

Dieter sucks in the side of his cheek, nodding slowly and sliding the glasses back over his nose. Cute, he could work with that.

“Jeez, would you start the movie already?” You poke his side with your toe. He doesn’t need to look at you to hear the faint blush in your voice.

He turns the volume up and crosses his arms, smiling faintly. You’re warm next to him, he thinks vaguely, his own high finally starting to sink into his bones.

Cute. Definitely not a word he’s going to obsess over.

The movie goes on.

Nicholas Cage is Nicholas Cage with a mullet.

Your laugh is the clattering of bells in his ears and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his sides hurt.

He’s coming up from bent over, knees almost to his chest, laughter nearly popping his ribs, when he realizes your feet are in his lap. The arches of your soles, the delicate bones of your ankles, the long smooth planes that run up to your gorgeous calves—

They are there, in his lap, and you don’t seem to mind. Head turned towards the screen, face bright from laughing, your arm arched back over your head, pressing your chest up — it’s like you meant for them to be there.

It’s just one hand, right? Two at the most. Just putting his hands down where he had them a moment ago. Up and — down.

You don't flinch. His palm is on the arched top of your foot, the other just above your other ankle.

You do smile, but that might have been because of Nicholas Cage raging again.

And then, during another bout of giggles, he clutches your shin bone, wraps his fingers around your heel, and laughs and laughs and laughs.

You wipe the tears away from your eyes, the end credits rolling.

“Fuck, that’s a such a good movie.”

He swallows, swiping quickly under his glasses before taking them off and chucking them onto the table in front.

“You’re fucking right it is,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward and plucking up the last of the joint. He inhales, letting the smoke ease stifle the tears in the corner of his eyes, gulping down a breath before offering it to you.

You take it, distracted, eyes on the credits, the light from the screen glowing on your cheeks.

He presses up under your ankle with his middle finger. “What? You knew what was gonna happen, you’d said you’d seen it before.”

You nodded, still not looking at him.

He goes for a more direct approach. He pinches your calf, and you scowl, the light back in your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a bit sharply. He’s not nearly done having fun with you, not nearly. You take another sip of smoke before setting the joint back on the table.

You huff, settling onto your back, pinching at your nails.

“Just . . . Nothing, it’s stupid.”

Dieter hums. He knows when to let him come to you. He taps the arch of your foot.

“How are you feeling?” His gaze nudges the joint on the table.

You grin. “Really good. Tingly. Warm. Like everything else is a million miles away.”

Just the two of us.

“Enough to tell ol’ Uncle Dee what’s on your mind?”

You roll your eyes and sit up a bit, yanking a pillow behind you.

“Just thinkin’ about the old days, I guess.” You glance up at him from under your eyes. “Not in a bad way. At all. I just . . .”

“What?” If you gave him hell for the last eleven years, then fuck it, he deserved it. He pulls at your ankle. “What?”

With a big sigh, you lean back, something finally breaking and, with it, comes a great big smile.

“Okay, remember when you’d put on those plays with the rest of us kids during those super lame family reunions o-o-or Christmas? Marissa would have everything written out, all the cousins cast and you’d beg her to let you play – fucking – Bear Number 5 or something ridiculous – and she’d fight you on it but she’d relent, always putting on a show of her own – as if a ten year old could be put out like that.” You giggled, biting on your thumb, a sparkling in your eyes that made something in his chest burn.

Yes, he remembers the incredibly stupid fuzzy ears and the bear claw mittens. The fake roaring. TMZ would have a fucking stroke if those pictures of him, baby-faced, were to ever surface online. He smiles at you and basks in the warmth of those memories, his high making them brighter.

“I think it would have crushed her little heart if you didn’t ask,” you said, heavy-lidded eyes on you again. “I know it broke her when you stopped showing up at all.”

His heart actually pinches at that. He knows you’re not scolding him but fuck, maybe he’d feel better if you did. What a fucking idiot he was, for leaving all of that for empty mansions and meals from UberEats and all this fucking gunked up shit in his veins that made him feel older and older every year. Like he was chasing something that was never real in the first place.

“Look, honey,” the pet name is out of his mouth before he can stop it. He’s twisting towards you, both hands under your calves now. “I should have called. Should have made sure that at least you knew where to find me, even if things between your dad and I were fucked.”

“Oh, God, Dee, no. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame my dad, sometimes. You just were very different people. He’s fine living his life in the same small ass town in the middle of nowhere. But you weren’t. And, fuck . . . I’m not either.”

He frowns. You bite your lip and continue.

“You know, I thought about following you out to Hollywood. Because of those plays. I had the best fucking time doing them and Hollywood didn’t seem so scary . . . with Uncle Dee out here. But, uh, I dunno. I grew up, I guess. Figured I was better at telling stories than performing them. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like my dad. Dying where I lived. Unremembered.”

His gut doubles in on itself. Please don’t say you gave up your dreams because I stopped calling.

“Do you still think about acting?” He asks quietly, trying to fight the faint ringing in his ears.

“Oh God, no,” you wave your hands, dusting away his near-panic that he’d somehow ruined your life. “I really do prefer writing stories, even if they exist only within the pages of a book. Or a really bad pamphlet, once or twice. I tried to continue the plays at home for a few years, after you left and Marissa took up cheerleading and thought she was too old to play with her little cousins anymore. But it just wasn’t the same without her. Or you.”

He realizes all too late that he can feel your pulse under your ankle. Strong. Pounding. Pounding, hard. Like you’re nervous. So struck by the notion that he can feel something so personal of yours, the smoke trapped in his brain lifts only slightly when he catches your eyes looking somewhere you absolutely should not be.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, he knows that look. You blink at him, then your gaze slowly slides down, down to his crotch, as smoothly you can beneath the weight of the smoke in your brain and he battles between the desire to throw your legs off him or pull you underneath him.

It’s The Look.

Men, women, it didn’t matter. The look was the same.

When the possibility of sex first enters their mind, when that first bloom of lust rushes down their spine and the memory of the physical exertion of fucking – all the panting and the heavy breathing, aching muscles and sweat – comes back, as real as a song stuck in your head. When that spark of imagination threatens to sway from the hypothetical to the actual, it’s a look he knows so fucking well, he might as well be able to carve it from clay, blind-folded.

And you’re giving it to him, right now.

You haven’t really thought about seducing him yet, no, that part hasn’t crossed your mind yet. But you definitely are imagining what his cock would feel like inside you, and you and your imagination and your wide-eyed gaze at his lap all whole-heartedly agreed: that would be a great fucking thing.

You, on your elbows, your heel dangerously close to his half-hard cock, the glaze in your eyes having something to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing, and your short breath having everything to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing.

He was quite sure you were completely unaware of the expression your face was making. Eyes hooded, mouth parted, breath short. Masking your emotions and filthy thoughts is a skill set mastered later in life and perhaps the last time you looked at someone like that, they simply bent you over the nearest surface and railed you till your knees buckled.

What a fucking excellent idea, his libido trilled. Now get off the couch and do something about it. I’m foaming at the fucking mouth here, man.

Dieter silences his inner horny monster, unintentionally squeezing his hand, the one that happens to be wrapped around your calf.

The movement seems to break you out of your dizzying spiral and you blink up at him.

He swallows. With a half smirk on the edge of your lips that you try to not let him see, you take your feet out of his lap, then reach forward, your palm alarmingly high on his thigh as you take the joint from his fingers. Your eyes flash like warning signs.

DANGER. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“So, you gonna give me a tour of this place or what?”

End of Part 1 | Next

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the bubble fanfic #the bubble 2016 #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfiction

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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 months

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My lovely @henderdads Cass, I unfortunately didn't manage to write a full length fanfiction that you 100% deserve for your birthday, buuuut...I saw that your fav Disney movie is Mulan. What if I gave you a very adjusted Mulan Steddie AU idea with a partial apocalypse, joining the army in place of someone you love, and an incredibly annoying voice in your ear who tells you what to say and do...

Eddie Munson is very much anti-war, thank you. He hates the army, hates the cops, tolerates Chief Hopper because he's cool, but overall authority? Nah, not for him. Eddie would never, ever join something violent and wear camo.

The world doesn't care about his preferences. When interdimensional rifts start popping up left and right and the whole planet is currently battling creatures pouring out of what is called the Upside Down dimension, every family has to send a man to join the war.

Eddie should not be joining anything. After a horrific car crash that nearly cost him his life, half of his torso is nothing but scars, his body is weak from spending months in the hospital, plus his aim is atrocious. But the government said someone needs to go, and his beloved uncle Wayne, the 50-ish man who looks like a nihilist but is secretly all the goodness in the world personified, is gearing up to go and serve his country. That just won't do.

He steals the letter ordering someone from the Munson family to join the Hawkins battlefield and prays that no one will have a chance to check his records. They probably won't, most of the documents for his town got burned to a crisp when a rift opened under the office. And because he knows absolutely nothing about the special Upside Down units he's about to join, he's doing what he knows the best - practicing by roleplaying. He's simulating small talk with "the boys". He's trying cheeky comebacks. And he's incredibly, cringe-inducingly bad at it.

Fortunately for him, or maybe not, he has a guardian angel, except the angel is a 13 year old kid he used to DM for. His name is Dustin and he's ruthless. When he stumbles upon Eddie's "Oh yeah, I used to play the ball in high school. Which ball? Uh...all the ball!", he announces Eddie is useless and gives him a small comm he's developed with his nerdy friends. "Don't worry," he says, "I will guide you through everything."

And Eddie believes it might be a good thing, that it might counterbalance his uncontrollable mouth, at least until the moment that he sees his sergeant, Steve Harrington. The guy is friendly, capable, tough as nails and incredibly, mind-numbingly pretty.

"Say good to meet you, sir!" the voice in his ear whispers.

Eddie opens his mouth to say exactly that. "Wow, aren't you a sight to behold, big boy!" is what ends up leaving it.

Dustin finds out the hard way that the barely functioning gay disaster Eddie Munson is impossible to guide through anything. He picks the lock to the showers after midnight to avoid showing his scars - or if he wanted to be honest, showering very heterosexually next to Steve fucking Harrington, the man who pulled him out of harm's way when Eddie messed up, and then nonchalantly produced a spiked bat and beat the creature preparing to snack on Eddie to a pulp.

"Why did you freeze when Steve was discussing tomorrow's mission?" Dustin hisses at him.

"You're not here, you twerp, you'd freeze too if you saw all that chest hair!"

Many things end up happening during the war of the worlds (cliché, but it works in Eddie's head). Eddie somehow ends up saving Steve's life by backing into a cassette player, turning it on and blasting "Master of Puppets" all over the battlefield, luring the creatures away from Steve's position. He tries to explain that it was an accident, but no one believes him.

Eddie notices that the creatures are invading in certain patterns. When people ask him how come he noticed something no one else did, he just shrugs and says: "it's what I would have done if I was running this as a campaign." He ignores Dustin's excited rambling about how cool the campaign would be and that Eddie definitely has to survive now.

Steve starts respecting him, even enjoying his company. How the hell did that happen. And there's definitely some tension between them, not the angry kind, and Eddie is taking cold showers now. For health reasons, obviously.

And finally, Eddie finds out that even if his aim sucks, he's pretty great with a flamethrower. They become unbeatable as a close range fighter duo with Steve.

Eventually, Eddie's insight combined with some secret government experimentation (they experimented on a kid? If it didn't work out so well, Eddie would have punched them and then set them on fire) end the war. The portals are closed, the remaining creatures gradually eliminated. Steve and Eddie are decorated as heroes and sent home. It's all very quick, very "let's not talk about this whole rift thing possibly being a government fault, nope!", Steve finally finds out about Eddie not being fit to serve and spirals into an absolute meltdown about endangering someone who was never supposed to fight in the first place. Eddie finds himself sitting on a bus home with a medal and a broken heart.

It's only a few days later, after Wayne's crushing hugs, scolding, well hidden tears and Dustin's constant visits, that someone knocks on his and Wayne's trailer door. It's Eddie's former sergeant Steve Harrington, wearing a soft yellow sweater and the cutest shy smile Eddie's ever seen. "Hi. Uh...I know it's difficult to make up for putting you through all that and not verifying your records. But..." he says and shushes Eddie when he tries to accept all the blame and get into a spiral of his own, "...I think a dinner would be a good start to that apology. How does that sound?"

Eddie grins at him and reaches for his hand. "I'd say you've got yourself a date, big boy."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #dustin henderson #mulan inspired #yeah Dustin serves in Mushu's role and he's about as useful as Mushu was #He actually instructed Eddie how to work the flamethrower so that was great #But other than that he'd spend decades bragging it was him who got Eddie and Steve together

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dandylovesturtles · 4 months

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Top Ten Posts of 2023

I decided, why not? ^^

I'm limiting this to fics/analysis/headcanon/etc posts I made during the year and skipping over anything that isn't my actual creative work. That said, if you're curious, my actual top post was this funky screenshot from episode 2.

10. Everyone's just fine with Donnie modding the moon buggy? (362 notes)

It occurred to me that despite being MASSIVE nerds for the Jupiter Jim franchise, the bros seemed awfully chill with Donnie taking an actual on-set moon buggy and modding the hell out of it.

A few people argued with me in the notes that the Turtle Tank is so cool no one could possibly be mad about it and I do think that's fair. The Turtle Tank is easily my favorite thing Donnie made in the show.

9. Splinter and Leo talk post movie (443 notes)

And then his dad walks in and says, “I would like to talk to Blue, please. Alone.” And suddenly Leo doesn’t feel so good anymore.

This is the most recent tumblr fic I've done (I think lol), so seeing it make it this high felt pretty good. I love Splinter and his boys... they make me emotional.

8. A headcanon about the Disaster Twins (445 notes)

I have a headcanon that the twins are lowkey always trying to get each other to laugh.

This is still true.

7. A showcase of Donnie's injuries in End Game (462 notes)

So everyone talks about Donnie getting his shell shredded by the Shredder in Many Unhappy Returns but I feel like it’s underappreciated that that happened to him coming off of getting his ass beat in End Game like

One of the first posts I made when I made this blog haha. Poor Donnie |'D

6. Donnie records everything (617 notes)

broke: Donnie listening to what happened in the prison dimension woke: Donnie showing Raph Leo’s big damn hero speech since he wasn’t there the first time

The main reason why this has so many notes is because @roseverdict wrote a great fic down in the notes that you should all go read.

5. Leo asks Donnie a favor (829 notes)

“You might as well tell me what you need,” he says, turning to his computer and pulling up his list. “I’ll assess it and prioritize.” “No, no, that’s okay. It’s nothing,” Leo insists. “Nardo.” Donnie levels his best stare at him. “What is it?”

I love writing the Disaster Twins being soft and you guys love it when I write it too.

4. Present Donnie and Future Donnie have a little disagreement (CAS AU fic) (1,242 notes)

“What was I supposed to do, tie him to a chair?” “Yes!?” says Mini-him like he’s stupid, which warrants a scoff.

Shoutout to @skcirthinq who doodled a comic version of their conversation.

3. Casey Jr. and Uncle Tello troll Present Donnie (CAS AU fic) (1,701 notes)

Casey Jr, says Uncle Tello’s voice. Uncle Tello? Do you want to see something really funny?

This is my actual fic with the most notes! I'm glad you all enjoyed this silly little take on what was actually an incredibly intense moment in Cass's original comic.

2. Mikey contacts the Hamato ancestors (2,054 notes)

future Mikey: *trying to contact the spirits of the Hamato for advice and guidance in the apocalypse* Donnie’s spirit: Hello, you are now communing with Donatello.

I can't believe you guys gave over 2K notes to the stupidest joke I've ever made. Shoutout to @nonymous06 for this artist's rendition.

and finally, drum roll please.....

My top post of 2023:

1. A very silly idea for a separated AU (4,283 notes)

non-angsty ROTTMNT separated AU where the boys meet online and bond over their shared love of Jupiter Jim and skateboarding and Lou Jitsu. Then one day they agree to meet irl for the first time at a con and decide to dress as turtle aliens.

This post spawned an adorable fanart by @thatsmutbean , this hilarious fanart by @onionninjasstuff , and an entire fanfic called new phone who dis by @rbtlvr

This has been an incredible year! My love for ROTTMNT has not diminished in the slightest and I still have lots of ideas, so I hope you guys stick with me for 2024. Thanks again! Happy New Year!!

#no idea what to tag this as #if I put it in the main tag is that annoying #oh well #rottmnt

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giantmushyfriend · 3 months

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Another GO headcanon/speculation to warm your heart this January

Since the announcement of Series 3 for our beloved Good Omens, the gears in this ol' brain have been turning. Because here's the deal: I love the idea that Aziraphale will have to give us a top-tier performance of the Apology dance, but I also like the idea that Crowley will request a favor he can call in at any time just for funsies. Aziraphale is inherently a little weary of this notion, but he ultimately agrees because, in the end, he loves Crowley and wants to show him that he is willing to do anything for him. And for a while, things just go back to normal. They handle the apocalypse, again, get their cottage in the South Downs, etc. Our ineffable husbands go about their days bickering and enjoying domestic bliss, and Aziraphale almost forgets about the favor his beloved demon has yet to call in. That is until they're back in the bookshop because, let's face it, Aziraphale won't be able to stay away from it for long, and Crowley is lounging on the couch while Aziraphale works (they sent Muriel to go hang out with Nina and Maggie). And like he's done in the past, Crowley decides it's about high time for a nap and decides it's time to call in that favor, resulting in something like;

"Angle," Crowley calls, tipping his head back to glance at the angel, where he's perched in his large, worn chair by his desk, looking over one of his newest bible misprints.

Aziraphale slides his reading glasses off of his nose and into the breast pocket of his button with an affectionate sigh, "Yes, my dear?"

"C'mere."

"Crowley, I'm working," the protest is half-hearted at best, and Crowley's mouths twitch up into a small smirk as Aziraphale carefully closes the book before twisting in his chair to look at the demon.

"Oi, none of that. You promised me a favor, angel, and I'm calling it in."

Aziraphale smiled fondly before rolling his eyes, and Crowley could swear he felt his heart melt a little.

I only ever want to see him smile like that, Crowley thought absently.

"Out of everything in the world- the universe, that an angel could offer you, you're using it for a cuddle?"

"Not JUST a cuddle, angel, I want a nap too." Crowley smiled, tipping his head back to summon Aziraphale closer.

"And you want me to hold you while you nap, I suppose?"

Crowley hummed in the affirmative, "Mmhmm, and I want you to read to me."

"Anything in particular, my love?"

"'Gimme something of Jane's, I wanna see if she can write as good as she can heist."

"How about a nice romance? Something to pair with your Richard Curtis pictures," Aziraphale stands before soothing out his trousers and beginning to search for where Muriel placed his Austen novels in their small reorganizing spree they took while he and Crowley were away getting settled in their cottage.

"No one calls them pictures anymore, Aziraphale, call 'em a movie for Gods-for Satan's- for somebody's sake," Crowley grumbled.

"Very well, is that a yes or a no for the romance?" Aziraphale asked as he located his newfound Austen section, his fingers grazing over the spine of his well-loved copy of Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility before pulling both off the shelf.

"Sure, a romance, sounds lovely. Just grab one and get over here, 'm cold."

"Dearest, you're always cold."

"'M a serpent, angel, I have no temperature control!" Crowley groused, wiggling down onto the sofa to make room for the angel. He levels a small glare at the edge of the narrow sofa before nodding in approval when it expands under his harsh gaze. "It's the middle of winter, 's why I keep a nice warm angel around."

Aziraphale felt his face flush, an odd aspect of the corporation that he'd never get used to. He strolled over to the now slightly larger couch before cupping Crowley's cheek, his heart stuttering when the demon nuzzled into the touch, "Would you like the heated blanket, love?"

Crowley nodded before Aziraphale grabbed it from the end of the couch. He didn't move to plug it in; he just hit the remote, and the blanket spurred into action. The angel then wiggled next to his demon, bringing the tartan blanket, much to Crowley's chagrin, up around the two of them. Crowley is quick to nuzzle his way into the angel's grasp, resting his head on the plush planes of his chest.

"Comfortable?" Aziraphale asks, one arm coming up to wrap around Crowley's shoulders before opening his older editions of Pride and Prejudice. Crowley hums, smiling softly when he feels a soft kiss pressed into his hairline. "Very well, my dear."

---

Listen, I'm just a sucker for Aziraphale reading to Crowley as he naps (but so is half of the entire fandom, and Crowley, hence this post). Is this a way for me to write it? A little. It's just so soft and domestic, and I really want to see it in series 3. I understand that the ineffable husband's romance won't be the main storyline in s3, but I am frothing at the mouth for some domestic, fluffy, moments between the two of them before we have to say goodbye for good.

#good omens #michael sheen #david tennant #aziraphale #crowley #good omens season 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale and crowley #domestic fluff #Aziraphale reading to Crowley #some soft headcannons #go headcanons #No angst here #only fluff #fulfilling my duty of making Michael proud #I am foaming at the mouth for some soft content #good omens series 3

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ordinaryschmuck · 4 months

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What I Quickly Thought about What If...? Season Two

For those who don’t know, I’m one of the few people who actually enjoyed What If…? Season One for what it was. Did it take advantage of telling interesting tales with the MCU, giving us intense glimpses of these universes that showed us what COULD HAVE been? Not all the time. Was it still good dumb fun? To me it was. And that’s pretty much what What If…?, as a concept, was, even in the comics. Yeah, you got interesting stuff like “What if Spider-Man never became a crime fighter?” or “What if Daredevil was raised by The Kingpin?” but it also had stuff like “What if the Original Marvel Bullpen Became the Fantastic Four?” or “What if Sargent Fury Fought World War Two in Outer Space?” The comics were less about high-concepts and more about writers doing whatever the hell they wanted with the Marvel Universe and being able to have fun with it because, well, none of it was canon. The same applied to the MCU’s What If…?, as it was a chance for the writers to do a murder mystery with the Avengers or make T’Challa fix the universe as Star-Lord. They can kill characters, make dumb(er) jokes, and play around with the heroes and villains in the MCU like they were action figures. And I’m into that. Don’t get me wrong, I would love more episodes like “What if…Doctor Strange lost his heart instead of his hands?” or “What if…Ultron won?” as they DO have a lot of great moments and show off what these characters are capable of than what the movies/shows proved. But at the same time, I didn’t mind watching the big buff lady that is Captain Carter kill Nazis or watch Spider-Man and a band of heroes try to survive a zombie apocalypse. It’s a show where everyone is meant to just sit back, turn their brain off, and have some fun while occasionally getting something interesting. Again, just like the comics.

So when Season Two got announced, I was genuinely excited. I like Season One and I wanted more of it. Then when the trailer came out with an episode list, I thought, “Okay, this could be the show embracing comic book wackiness.” Now, not a lot of people were into that…In fact, the majority said that a lot of these concepts weren’t even interesting and were, instead, kind of lame. I don’t get it, maybe because I’m in the exact mindset the MCU wants me to have with this series, but I was still looking forward to Season Two. The question is, was it worth it? Well, let’s quickly go over each episode to find out.

Spoilers Ahead

What If…Nebula Joined the Nova Corps?: Ooooooooh, what a great start. Watching Nebula act as a cop/detective, but with her cold, deadpan badassery still intact was a ton of fun in this dark, gritty setting made for this new version of her. I loved watching this new version of Nebula make her way through a darkened Xandar, with her never straying from this oath and acting as it should be intended, all while teaming up with Howard the Duck of all characters. Like, I kind of enjoy seeing Howard turn out to be this sleazy casino owner who treats Nebula as a true friend despite them working on opposite ends of the law. The concept itself is funny and execution is endearing with Seth Green giving much needed charm to the character. It’s part of the fun of What If…?: Showing characters who couldn’t interact in the movies or didn’t have much screen time and allowing them another chance to shine…Unfortunately, that’s not always a good thing. Because while I love seeing a character like Howard make a surprisingly good comeback, watching Yon-Rog, one of the more boring MCU villains, show up and lack any intrigue or fun is just…no. And then there’s Nova Prime who decided to betray the entire Corp by taking down the force field…Something that was HER idea to do and, given the pull she had, could have done at any point. Why string Nebula along when Nova Prime could have just made the ruling herself that the force field needed to be taken down? A friend of mine tried explaining how it could make sense, but I don’t know. It doesn’t change this weird got while watching. But while flawed, it was pretty cool to see this new setting in the MCU, carried by Nebula as the Super Nova (Love that name, by the way. It’s perfect). The plot has a big ol’ hole, not every character return works, but it gave me a half-hour of fun so I’m not complaining (Get used to that thought process, by the way).

What If…Peter Quill Attacked Earth’s Mightiest Heroes?: And this one’s a little rough around the edges. It’s fun to see this alternate version of the Avengers form to fight a Peter Quill who has Ego’s powers, but it feels like the entire episode is on fast-forward, almost like this is what would happen if the first Avengers movie needed to be made thirty-minutes long. It’s sort of the downside of What If having a half-hour runtime, where it has to both tell a story and introduce us to this new universe in under thirty minutes. It’s the same with the comics that had less than thirty pages to do the exact same thing, only to feel longer because comic writers in the seventies and eighties don’t know how to shut the hell up. The end result is a story that’s fine ENOUGH, but it would have benefited with more time to slow down and let us appreciate this new team of old heroes. I mean, we have the original Captain Mar-Vel, T’Challa’s father, and even Goliath, which would have been AWESOME to see them play a big role. But instead, the episode focuses on Hank Pym, Bucky, and THOR, somehow, making these other heroes valued members but also a bit of an afterthought. Also, despite this being a different version of the Avengers, they somehow make MORE quips than the original team, with few of it feeling like it’s in character. It has the same problem as Age of Ultron where everyone is cracking jokes at every second as much as they can, and it HIGHLY depends on your willingness to stomach that kind of thing if you’re willing to watch this episode. That and if you’re willing to forgive a character doing this STUPID AND RISKY thing that worked out for the better but doesn’t change how stupid and risky it is. Overall, this whole episode is a very interesting idea mixed with some very FLAWED execution that spoils the fun to be had.

What If…Happy Hogan Saved Christmas?: Now this? All kinds of fun to be had with this one. The return of Justin Hammer of all villains isn’t something I thought I needed, but I heavily enjoyed watching what’s basically the anti-Tony Stark show up and be his most despicably charming self. It was a blast to watch this scrawny little twink TRY and act intimidating as he dances all over the place. It makes him feel more and more like a cartoon villain, which is appropriate for yuletide fun. You don’t NEED a menacing presence for Christmas, you need a GOOF. And Hammer’s the goofiest with his lame catchphrases and very STUPID dancing, I couldn’t get enough of it. But the real star is Happy, who gets juiced up for an adaptation I NEVER would have expected from the MCU. The Freak is one of the sides to Happy that not many fans would know about unless they’ve immersed themselves with Iron Man lore (Or read a shit load of comics for the past two years like me), but it really is cool to see that side of him brought to life. The way Happy looks and moves like more of a manic Hulk on crack does great at setting him apart from the Jolly Green Monster we know and love, but also makes The Freak feel more unique from how he was in the comics. It was a blast of a holiday special with the only downside is that Darcy’s OCCASIONALLY annoying. Not much other than that, though, as this is the best Christmas present I could ask from Marvel.

What If…Iron Man Crashed Into the Grandmaster?: Fun fact, this was originally meant to be in Season One but was cut due to time constraints. Yeah, remember how weird it was that the Watcher plucked a version of Gamora we didn’t know? Well, now we finally know…through a story that’s primarily about Tony Stark that makes me wonder why the hell The Watcher didn’t take him.

But facts and jokes aside, I loved the shit out of this episode. There are probably going to be some cynics out there saying that the cars and the race is an excuse to sell toys or LEGO sets or some shit, but I don’t care because everything about it was AWESOME!. Not to mention that it lit up a special place in my heart and brain to watch Tony Stark be a hero again, not hesitating to save lives, putting everything on the line, and helping bring Gamora into the light, all while still being his snarky, Starky self. And huge props to Mick Wingert voicing him, who doesn’t sound like Robert Downy Jr at ALL, but still nails the energy and mannerisms. I can picture RDJ saying all of these lines and it helps make this feel like one last Iron Man story for the fans. Seeing the Grandmaster again was ALSO a plus, as he was his same goofy-self. As for the real hook of this episode, Gamora, she’s…fine. I don’t love that it’s Tony that helped her redemption arc since I always preferred how turning against Thanos was something Gamora decided for herself instead of this thing that someone brought out. It’s not a BAD idea, but it’s something that might have worked better with NEBULA, a character that could actually USE convincing, instead of Gamora, a character who would likely go to Stark to help kill Thanos. Still, I don’t HATE it, nor do I hate the episode. It was an adrenaline thrill-ride that gave us a return of Tony where he DOESN’T die in the end. I couldn’t have asked for more if I heard this episode’s title, and I’m glad it’s what we’ve got.

What If…Captain Carter Fought the Hydra Stomper?: I…KIND OF understand the reception towards Captain Carter. I don’t get why Marvel keeps pushing her more than their actual Captain America replacement, Sam Wilson. I mean, Captain Carter showed up in three projects (two seasons of television and a movie), where Sam made his official appearance as Captain America once…and hasn’t even cameoed in any other movie or show. Now, don’t get me wrong, I like the big buff lady and it’s awesome seeing her fight the giant robot. It’s cool, I love it. I also heavily enjoyed this episode, getting into the drama, action, and seeing Peggy make a surprisingly believable friendship with Black Widow. Heck, I’d go so far as to say that this is a better Black Widow story than her actual movie gave us. So I like it, I like seeing Captain Carter and some of her adventures. I especially like that this story isn’t a direct rehash of Winter Soldier like how the first episode is a rehash of First Avenger. The writers actually set out to make something more unique and it makes me like Captain Carter a little more. I just wish we could get that same love and appreciation towards Sam Wilson, whose movie got pushed back to 2025 and will count as the only time this character has been relevant since his mini-series. If this is our new leader of the Avengers and the man who will fight to save the multiverse, we’re probably going to need more than one appearance from the guy. I don’t think people would complain about more Captain Carter if Sam Wilson’s Captain America wasn’t so blatantly shoved too far to the side.

What If…Kahhori Reshaped the World?: One of the few rare times the MCU made an ORIGINAL superhero. There is no previous comic, movie, or show that Kahhori is based on. She’s a completely original character made up for this franchise, much like Miles Morales in the Ultimate universe or X-23 in X-Men Evolution (Check that show out, by the way. It’s pretty damn good). And just like those two, I REALLY hope Kahhori manages to become such a hit with audiences that she spawns more content, because Kahhori and her world is something I would love to revisit. Her personality is fun, her motivation is inspiring, and her powers are unique enough to make her stand out more to the other heroes in the MCU. As for her story, it’s your bare-bones origin story. The whole episode is about explaining her powers, the world she lives in, and the people she loves and fights for. It does all this while proving her heroics through fighting a supervillain set out to do some damage. Only, instead of some generic supervillain that matches her powers it’s this Spanish Conquistador who…honestly still looks like a supervillain, which is kind of funny. And it works for Kahhori, proving that while she’s currently the most powerful person in the world, she’s willing to fight against oppression and the monarchy, advocating for peace instead of a continuous war for who gains the most control. Like I said, that’s inspiring and it’s why I want to see more of this character and how far she can go when fighting bigger, more evil threats than the Queen of Spain. Whether it’s a spin-off TV show/movie, a comic mini-series, or even introducing Kahhori into the 616 comics (somehow), I wouldn’t mind seeing this new, wonderful hero more in the future.

What If…Hela Found the Ten Rings?: I…did not expect to like this one as much as I did. I wasn’t the BIGGEST fan of Hela, because aside from seeing her actress having a blast to go full ham, there wasn’t much to her. Yeah, she was this conqueror alongside Odin, which is an interesting backstory for HIM, but for Hela, it’s not enough. Instead of telling me WHO she is, Thor: Ragnarok kept telling me WHAT she was. Then here comes an episode of What If…? that not only gives me that answer, but a lot more. Sure, the first half is a bit wonky, but when we get to the second, we finally get an idea of who Hela is. Simply put, Hela doesn’t know who she is beyond a conqueror, and that’s because Odin never trained nor raised her to be anything more. This episode forces Hela to face that and discover answers she never knew she was seeking, having a surprisingly decent redemption, becoming a goddess of life instead of death. I…love that. I love that WAY MORE than I could have expected to love it. It makes me appreciate Hela a lot more and maybe see that there’s a tragedy to her in Thor: Ragnarok. Hela could have changed for the better if she met someone that could bring her good side out, but because she was banished into isolation by Odin, it caused Hela to be both spiteful and vengeful, making her refuse any alternative beyond being a conqueror or a goddess of death, with her final acts of life being someone who destroyed her home because destruction was all she knew. This episode has a better, more unique story to tell than Hela and Wenwu fighting over the Ten Rings to see who can cause more destruction. Speaking of, if there’s one thing to complain about the episode, it’s how underutilized Wenwu is to the story. He’s actually one of MY favorite MCU villains and it feels weird that he’s just…kind of there? Most of the meat to the story goes to Hela, and I do appreciate it, but Wenwu could have done more than wanting to bone Hela or assisting her in fighting Odin. But aside from that, I’d still say that this is a fantastic episode that surpassed my expectations.

What If…The Avengers Assembled in 1602?: Of all the episodes, this is the one I was looking forward to the most. I’m a sucker for seeing characters in a different setting. They’re very much the same in terms of personality but their differences vary from positions in life or the skills they’re capable of. It’s no different here, as so much of this feels like a period piece fanfic where the writers seemed to have so much fun making the Avengers be in 1602. And I don’t give a shit if people hate her, I LOVE that Captain Carter refuses to leave this world until she saves it from complete collapse. It would have been the same if it was Steve Rogers, I get that, but how do you expect me to hate a hero who’s willing to fight with her last breath to save the world? Those are my favorite kind of superheroes! You want me to give up what I love most about superheroes just because you don’t like that the big buff lady fights King Thor and his vibranium thunder sword? F**k you.

Also, this comes with the added benefit of watching big buff Steve and big buff Peggy constantly being on the VERGE of wanting to rip their clothes off and f**k each other whenever they’re on screen together. And, honestly, I can't blame them. They’re both gorgeous. LET THEM F**K!

Overall, I had fun, even if there are problems. Sure, the reveal that Steve is indirectly the cause of this universe’s collapse is way too predictable, no thanks in large part to the trailers SPOILING IT! And it’s pretty weird that Scott can still shrink and grow. Like…How can he do that in this setting? Also, this universe has a merry band of misfits that’s similar to Robin Hood, and there’s not even a SINGLE Hawkeye in it? Not even Kate Bishop? COME ON NOW! Come on now…

But, yeah, this episode is the perfect epitome of what makes What If…? enjoyable to me. It can offer you a fun concept of having the Avengers be in 1602 and just ask you to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Not everyone’s going to be into that, but I am and I could take ten more seasons of this if I could.

What If…Strange Supreme Intervened?: You want me to hate the big buff lady and new MCU character Kahhori fighting Strange Supreme and a whole gaggle of universe killers just because *checks notes* Captain Carter is a Mary Sue? F**k you. I don’t care if you feel like Captain Carter is forced upon you, she punched a demonic Doctor Strange in the face with the power of INFINITY. That is awesome no matter WHO the character is and if you can’t appreciate it, then I guess this show really isn’t for you. As for the finale, the whole thing is awesome as this big fireworks show to close out the season, added with Strange Supreme going back to the dark side for the sake of reviving his universe. I’ll admit that Strange Supreme had a bit of a forced redemption last season, so it is great for this finale to prove that he is, in fact, still twisted inside while allowing him to earn a more true redemption in making up for his actions. It makes his tragedy STILL feel like a tragedy, giving everyone but him a happy ending. And, again, he got punched in the face with the power of infinity. F**k all you haters, this show’s great.

Season Two is a definite improvement to Season One. Sure, the pacing is wonky, the jokes are trying too hard, and animation can look gorgeous at times but ugly at others. But the writing’s stronger, the concepts are bigger, the fun’s funner, and I got to see a woman punch a demon in the face with the power of infinity–I keep bringing that up because it is so damn awesome. And it’s the same with this show! It just fuels that part of my brain that wants to see cool, comic book shit happening. It’s not for everyone, I know that. It’s neither good nor bad, it’s just…subjectively fun. It’ll either light up your world or leave you wanting more substance than dumb fun. I enjoyed the hell out of this season, but others won’t for their own reasons (some of them being that they just hate Captain Carter). They can feel that way all they want. Still won’t change how I enjoyed the hell out of this season and look forward to more.

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu reviews #captain carter #nova nebula #marvel what if #what if season 2 #kahhori #mcu the freak #happy hogan #mcu hela #hela #justin hammer #strange supreme #tony stark #iron man

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calisources · 8 months

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CW'S SUPERNATURAL SENTENCE QUOTES. all sentences have been taken from mostly the kripke era (season 1 to season 5) of erik kripke's supernatural, mainly season four and five. change names/pronouns/locations as you see fit.

SEASON FOUR .

If you're going to shoot, shoot! Don't talk!

Please. Dean, maybe angels can pull you out of Hell but no one can do that.

So, you guys are like Mulder and Scully or something, and the X-Files are real?

It was beauty that killed the beast.

Anna may have sent the angels to the outfield, but sooner or later, they're gonna be back.

I suppose some dumb bastard stood here, felt a jolt of his holy juice and thought 'I'm going to build me a nun factory.' Well, it was the right idea... wrong angel.

Tell me something. Where's God in all this?

I'm not sure if he's my brother any more. If he ever was.

Are you under the impression that family's supposed to make you feel good? Make you an apple pie, maybe? They're supposed to make you miserable! That's why they're family.

If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back.

You don't know me. You never did, and you never will.

Congrats, Sammy. You just bought yourself a benchwarmer seat to the Apocalypse.

I serve Heaven, I don't serve man. And I certainly don't serve you.

Forever. The demons will never stop. You can never be with your family. So, you either get as far away from them as possible. Or you put a bullet in your head, And that's how you keep your family safe.

You know I finally get why you and dad butted heads so much. You two are practically the same person.

I mean I worshipped the guy, y'know: I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listened to the same music. But you are more like him than I will ever be. I see that now.

Okay, so basically you're saying that every movie monster, every nightmare that I've ever had, that's all real.

He's a Winchester. He's already cursed.

It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant! I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night level douchiness.

Uriel's the funniest angel in the garrison. Ask anyone.

I'm not a hero, I'm not strong enough.

I know our fate rests with you.

I couldn't break him, pulled out all the stops, but John, he was made of something unique. The stuff of heroes.

You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap.

Tell me something, geniuses. Even if you do break into the Veil and you find the Reaper. how are you going to save it?

SEASON FIVE.

The only thing you're going to see out there is Michael killing your brother.

I'm gonna rip you apart from the inside out. Do you understand me?

No doubt - endings are hard. But then again... nothing ever really ends, does it?

You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can.

Dean, even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid.

Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite.

Well, I got to ask. How old are you?

As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless - at the end, I'll reap him, too.

That's the beauty about improv, Sammy. You never know what's gonna come out of your mouth.

You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be.

World's gonna end, seems silly to get all precious over one little soul.

Why? Because Crowley said so? Because we trust him now?

You think you own the planet? What gives you the right?!?

No one gives us the right. We take it.

You're not my father. And you ain't in my shoes.

I mean, whatever happened to personal loyalty? How long have I worked for these guys. Five millennia? Six?

It's funnier in Enochian.

This creature has the power to take a human's form, read minds.

And you think you know better than my father? The one unimportant little man. What makes you think you get to choose?

It's a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will's an illusion, Dean. That's why you're going to say yes.

Think of the million random choices that you make--and yet how each and everyone of them brings you closer to your destiny.

As it is in Heaven, so it must be on Earth. One brother has to kill the other.

Well, call it personal experience. Nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family.

You know why God cast me down? Because I loved him. More than anything.

Now, tell me... does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was right?

Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it?

Honestly, people don't need a reason to kill each other. I mean, you seen the Irish? They're all Irish.

#rp meme #sentences memes #meme call #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme

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lm-tomatito · 1 month

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I would love to know more about the plot idea that inspired your art with Metal Overlord and Sage!

Oh man, I kinda forgot most of it but I'll say what I remember ;u; I don't actually have this one very planned since it was a random idea I had, so if anyone would like to add stuff to it or just draw this Sage, feel free to do so. Also, I have other story ideas that are relatively more well planned I guess, so I can talk about those too if anyone is interested. Might add a small sketch for them like I did here too

This idea is actually more about an evil Sage who was overtaken by a virus, the government's fault for learning about her and wanting to control her probably. I kinda wanted something that was against her own programming or ideals, confusing her so much to the point of breaking or being corrupted.

Not sure what her goal would be. Maybe destroying the world, destroying only the humans or just take control of everything and everyone. Maybe a corrupted way of love that would make her want to shape the world however she thinks it should be.

She's able to take control and overwrite any robot/machine's purpose, all except for Metal (because unconscious sibling bonding or something).

I didn't actually plan on adding Overlord (or Neo) to this, I only wanted to draw him and OvertakenSage because of the cool factor (lol).

As to why he joined her, not sure either. Could be him wanting to stop her, fear of her taking control over him too, or just doing it because of his own goal like waiting for the perfect moment to strike and him being the one with control over everything. Maybe he doesn't even join her and actually joins whoever tries to stop her, idk

I'm also not sure what would happen to Eggman, or what he would do, all I know is Sage would be against him too. If he would be temporary ally to Sonic and friends or just hide on his own, depends on how it sounds more interesting.

The biggest inspirations for this are actually 3 different things: 1, me wanting to make a virus/apocalypse thing because I have fun with that type of stories, kinda like the whole metal virus stuff (I actually have a different story idea with something more similar to that I guess). 2, stories about computer viruses, specially the "I love you" one. And 3, a song that might be based on that, is called "INFeCTIoN" by VocaCircus, really good song, I like it a lot. I guess there's a bit of inspiration from robot apocalypse movies too? I haven't actually watched that many so...

But yeah, that's my "Overtaken AI" au. Again, it's not very well planned because I'm not even sure if I'll actually use this for anything other than drawings and maybe some small scenes about it, I really just wanted to make my own evil Sage design yay

#answering asks #sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #sage the ai

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fellthemarvelous · 4 months

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Has everyone in the Good Omens fandom seen Shaun of the Dead?

(I tweeted this and then screenshot it because I had more to say. Also if you haven't seen the Thriller music video by Michael Jackson then you're missing out.)

It is very important to know that if you've seen Staged, you know that Simon Pegg and Nick Frost were both on the show together in one episode. They are just as close to each other as David and Michael are to each other.

Here is when Shaun and Ed finally notice something weird might be going on.

They have no idea why this woman was showing up in their backyard and they just assume she is drunk. They were so drunk the previous night (Liz dumped Shaun) they don't realize they witnessed one woman completely bite a man's head off or realize that the person moaning back in reply to the song they were singing was actually a zombie.

Ed literally took the time to find one of those ancient cameras we had to use before the invention of the smartphone. And we know that everyone with a smart phone these days would be doing the exact same thing if this was happening right now.

But Shaun also has this girlfriend, Liz,

who is always third-wheeling on dates with her own boyfriend because Ed is never not with them. And the truth is that Shaun needs to make a choice because he can't have both, and Liz really loves him back just as much as he loves her, but Ed is basically Shaun's shadow.

Shaun and Ed begin a noble quest to save Shaun's mum (his stepdad was bitten by a zombie so it becomes necessary to kill him too but there is a flaw in their plan because Philip is still alive by the time they get to the house and Shaun isn't going to kill a living person so they have to add him to the car), to save Liz (only to realize David and Di are still with her and they don't want to be left behind so they get added to the tiny car), and to go to The Winchester (Shaun and Ed's favorite pub and the bane of Liz's existence) because it's sturdy with heavy doors and a rifle behind the counter.

And then all hell breaks loose because Philip finally turns into a zombie in the car, and it's Philip's car that Ed stole because he really wanted to drive it because it was a classic and the child safety locks are still on in the back.

They end up having to abandon the car after locking Philip in it.

They finally reach the pub by acting like zombies and hoping the other zombies don't notice.

And if you have never seen this scene, it's the funniest part of the entire movie. It's iconic, and it happens to "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen. (Warning: this is still very much a zombie movie)

youtube

In the end, Ed gets bitten and later sacrifices himself to the other zombies so Liz and Shaun can escape a little easier.

And then at the very end Shaun is letting zombie Ed live in his and Liz's shed and they still play video games together, and even if Ed tries to bite him from time to time, Shaun yells at him and zombie Ed goes back to playing video games.

It still got the happy ending of a romantic comedy, and we never actually learn what caused the zombie breakout, and the zombie's best friend is taking care of him in the shed of the backyard where he and Liz will live happily ever after (we hope).

The movie ends with the song "You're My Best Friend" by Queen.

Also note: Liz's best friend Di is the only other one in their group to survive the zombie apocalypse but you only find out how if you watch the special features.

I think we need to be looking at Shaun of the Dead a bit closer.

And Hot Fuzz ("surrender the angle" is an easter egg from it), also starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost. It's hilarious too.

The apocalypse is happening all around Aziraphale and Crowley, but we didn't notice because we were watching it through the lens of a romantic comedy. Meanwhile, Hell is overcrowded and Furfur set zombies loose on Earth in back in 1941.

#good omens #good omens meta #shaun of the dead #parallels #simon pegg #nick frost #Youtube

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yall-hate-kids-tourney · 18 days

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Loser Finals: Mabel Pines (Gravity Falls) vs. Amane Momose (MILGRAM)

It's rematch time!

Propaganda below the cut

Mabel Pines (12):

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girl gets so much flack for being... immature and kind of selfish at age 12? like she had whole video essays made on why she is a horrible person who deserves punishment. god forbid girls be silly

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!!! Spoilers for Gravity Falls last 5 episodes !!!

So, a few episodes later, that bubble she's in is revealed to be a world of fantasy that she controls, and that she didn't want to leave that world, as she was scared of growing up etc.

Amane Momose (12):

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So the audience replicates Amane’s abusers and repeats the cycle of abuse and that’s pretty shitty but it isn’t exactly “Fuck Em Kids” level.

And then Trial 2 happened. Cause Amane is bitter and angry and horrifically traumatized so she acts aggressive and hostile. Especially towards another prisoner.

Now, again, everyone here is a fucking murderer (of atleast could be constructed as one) These people being able to Harm is a core concept of this series.

In short: In a series full of Murderers I’m honestly a bit pissed that the 12 year old abuse victim is the one who’s treated like the guy from American Pyscho.

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#yall hate kids tourney #loser finals #gravity falls #mabel pines #milgram #milgram project #amane momose #momose amane #cw child abuse #cw cults #cw torture #cw psychological torture #cw animal death

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