I get so emotional when I think about the mayhem twins because they’re such an important m/f relationship that stayed platonic from beginning to end and that’s just so big???? And it shouldn’t be but it is. That’s just how rare m/f platonic relationships are on tv, it’s to the point where majority of the time a male and female will start off as friends and you’re thinking ‘good I hope the writers keep them this way’ but of course the writers pull a 'I don’t think so’ and end up having them eventually fall for each other. I’ve seen it happen too many times at this point so the poi writers keeping Shaw and Reese as just friends the entire series is admirable to me. Reese was literally a big brother to Shaw and was always there for her even when she didn’t think he would be. That’s just how much he loved her in a supporting way; Any other show’s writers would’ve definitely made them romantic, meanwhile we got blessed with the amazingness that is Root and Shaw and their entire dynamic and it wasn’t even supposed to happen. That’s another thing I’ll never get over…
Shoot weren’t planned!!1 Every little thing we got involving their relationship was just the writers going with the flow after their first scene together. How crazy is that? The writers had no idea they’d eventually give us this amazingly iconic slowburn with these two heavily complex characters. And because Root and Shaw weren’t planned, we got to see so much of them outside of their dynamic first which was what the writers originally planned for them and then along the way they just kept adding to their relationship making them develop feelings for each other, etc. For something that was never intended, it sure as hell felt natural and organic. Part of that is credited to the writers but the other is in part to Amy and Sarah’s incredible chemistry. I mean they really DID that relationship jesus.
Add to the fact that the whole team (3 older white men and a dog lol) knew about them and never cared that they were two women that fell in love, they always respected their relationship. And when Root was without Shaw and vice versa, the guys always supported them through the situation and helped them grieve like I cry???? So good.
I’ll shut up now but kudos to Jonathan Nolan and Greg Plageman for this. They might not have gotten everything right but the mayhem twins and Shoot’s dynamic? They truly created magic with both of those.
“I am Groot,” Peter said dutifully. He felt like an idiot, but there were only a limited number of ways to while away quiet nights on the ship when neither of them could sleep. If it was him and Gamora, or him and Drax, they could spar, but he’d only tried sparring with Rocket once. It took weeks for the bite marks to heal.
Rocket’s oddly expressive – for a raccoon – face wrinkled in an expression of disgust. “Do you even hear yourself? That is nothing like what I just said.”
“Dude, that is exactly what you just said.”
“No, I said ‘I am Groot’ and you said ‘I am Groot’.”
“Which is … the same?”
Rocket stared at him for a long moment, then pointed at his snout. “Read my lips: I am Groot.”
“Was I supposed to repeat that, or …”
Rocket showed some teeth. Peter shut up. There was a moment of silence and Peter was just about to put his earbuds back in and quit with the language lessons when Rocket said suddenly, “Quill, if I say, 'I am Groot,’ just like that, what do you hear?”
“Is this a trick question? Especially the kind of trick question that’s gonna end in you pissing on my bed?”
“That was only once, and you had it coming –”
“No, for the love o’ cheese, it’s not a trick question. Just say 'I am Groot’.”
“I am Groot,” Peter said. “I feel like a complete jackass right now, in case that was your intent – hey, where are you going?”
“Jus’ need to get a thing!” Rocket’s voice trailed behind him.
Peter flopped back down in the chair in the mess and put his earbuds in. He was actually getting sleepy, and considering going back to bed, when Rocket jumped up onto the table in front of him with something clutched in his paws.
“What’s that?” Peter asked, sitting up. He palmed off the Zune and took off the earpieces. He had to hand it to Earth tech: the new music player was a lot more convenient to carry around than his late, lamented Walkman.
Rocket’s device was a thin, flat screen about the size of a hardback book; he had it clutched with a paw on each side while readouts rippled quickly across it.
“Okay, now say 'I am Groot’,” Rocket declared, studying the screen.
“Come on, man, do we really have to go through this again?”
Peter sighed and slouched in his chair. “I am Groot.”
Rocket’s ears pricked forward. “I am Groot,” he said, and tapped the display with his paw, causing the tiny, scrolling lines and numbers to freeze. “Did that sound the same to you?”
“Well … yeah?”
The flat pads of Rocket’s fingers danced across the display, and he laid the screen on the table between them. “Know what you’re lookin’ at?”
“Squiggly lines,” Peter said automatically.
“Did your mama drop you on the head a lot as a baby, Quill?”
“No, but Yondu did occasionally.” Peter rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. As much fun as it was to mess with Rocket, he did actually think he knew what the raccoon was getting at. “That wiggly line is some kind of … uh … noise – wiggle – curve, right?”
“That’s real precise.”
“I was abducted from Earth before we got to algebra in school. Cut me some slack here.”
“Excuses, excuses. I was raised in a cage and my mother had an IQ of 3.” Rocket touched the display, zooming in on it. “Point is, I don’t think it’s just that all a’ you two-legged bunch is too obtuse to understand perfectly clear speech –”
“– like I used to think. It’s more like, my ears hear at higher and lower frequencies than yours do, so I get different overtones. Put simply for the simple, I can hear things you can’t.”
Peter leaned forward, intrigued. “So, wait – you mean all this time, all his 'I am Groot’s sound different to you?”
He realized what he’d said as soon as the words left his mouth, and got the flat 'I am dealing with morons’ look from Rocket that he’d instantly realized he had coming. “How am I supposed to understand him if they don’t, Quill, I ask you?”
“Okay – point – but … so why does it sound like 'I am Groot’ to the rest of us?”
“It sounds like 'I am Groot’ to me too.” When Peter glowered at him, Rocket held up a paw. “No, I ain’t messin’ with ya. This time. No, that’s what the translation unit picks up, 'cause it ain’t so smart about some of the less humanoid languages. It’s just, I hear it like …” He hesitated and waggled his paw. “It’s like your music, right? All those up and down tones at the same time. Groot can do that. Your throat, my throat, can’t.”
“Singing?” Peter said after a minute. “Groot’s singing?”
“I refer you back to the part about bein’ dropped on your head.” Rocket pursed his lips and let out a sharp whistle, making Peter jump – there was still some part of him that couldn’t quite hear whistling and not expect a death arrow to follow an instant later. And he might not be the only one, because Rocket stopped abruptly, closed his mouth, and then said, “Quill, do this,” and hummed softly.
It wasn’t really a tune. “You just want me to hum?” Peter asked. “Like, generic humming?”
Rocket curled his lip and the hum became more of a snarl.
“Right, humming,” Peter said hastily.
The funny thing was, the instant his soft hum of response hit the right harmonics with the note Rocket was humming (and the raccoon did have a good sense of pitch; Peter had always suspected so) he understood exactly what Rocket was getting at.
“Ohhhhh. When Groot talks, it’s like a symphony. Is that what you mean? And the 'I am Groot’ part is the part in the human audible range.”
Rocket’s ears and tail went up cheerfully. “Yeah, ezzactly. He’s tryin’ to communicate, it’s just he didn’t get any farther than 'I am Groot’ when he was learning. It’s as hard for him to do the talkin’ part for the translators as it is for you and me to do his kind of talk. He can hear us just fine, though. Actually to him, understanding our talk is dead easy.”
“So how do we understand him?” Peter asked. “Can you, I dunno, juice up the translator so it picks up a higher range of frequencies, or something?”
“I dunno. That’s not a bad idea.” Rocket tapped his claw against his teeth before picking up the screen thing and hopping off the table. “Have to think on it. Don’t wanna explode your heads or anything.”
“Yeah, well, on that lovely note, I’m goin’ to bed.” He actually was tired enough now to fall asleep in spite of the inevitable nightmares (the bitter cold and darkness of space; Ego’s face dissolving in his hands; his friends crushed by rocks or blown apart). The music helped as it always had, a melodic bulwark against the dark, wrapped gently around his heart – but it could only do so much.
Rocket grunted absently as he trotted off, already engrossed in figuring out the problem.
The thought occurred to Peter as he wandered back to his quarters, thumbing idly through the songs on the Zune, that these sorts of mechanical puzzles served the same purpose for Rocket as his music did for him: something to make his mind go quiet.
The music did that … and so did letting Gamora beat the stuffing out of him in the ship’s small exercise area. Or getting language lessons from Rocket. Or –
“I am Groot?”
Peter jumped as small hands grabbed hold of his pants leg. Groot shimmied quickly up to perch on his shoulder.
“Hey, little buddy.” Peter opened the door to his quarters and left it open so Groot could come and go as he wanted. Or so he could hear if anybody got into a fight or whatever. He flopped wearily on his unmade bed, careful not to dislodge Groot. “You know, I’m not sure how much of this you can understand right now, but Rocket’s teaching me to speak your language.”
“I am Groot?”
“Well, to understand you more than speak it, I guess I should say.” He was lying on his back now and he couldn’t really see Groot except out of the corner of his eye, but he could feel the little tree shifting around in the hollow where the collar of his sweatshirt rested against his neck.
“I am Groot,” Groot said insistently, almost in his ear. Small hands patted at the side of his face and his earlobe.
“Yeah, yeah.” Peter pinched one earbud between two fingers and held it where Groot could get at it. The little hands took it out of his fingers. Peter settled himself comfortably as Groot squirmed somewhat ticklishly against his neck, and sorted through the songs. “How 'bout Elton John tonight, buddy?”
“I am Groot,” came the sleepy answer.
“You know, little guy,” Peter murmured, as the first strains of the music began to play and Groot snuggled comfortably against his neck, “whether or not Rocket can get his new gadget working, I think we understand each other just fine, don’t we?”
Do you ever think about how fucking deep the actual plot/setting of Flapjack is I mean it’s a show about an old man named K'Nuckles who is an alcoholic poverty-stricken homeless disabled man who’s helping a whale raise an orphan child who was the soul survivor in a ship wreck years ago, and that child is also extremely poverty stricken but still see’s everything that is beautiful in the world and loves everyone and won’t ever give up on anything and always believes in the good of people despite being the butt-end of literally every single joke made by the upper and middle classes and loves his family with all his heart even though he gets made fun of on the daily for having a family of freaks while they’re all living in an old run down shipping harbor community in the mid 1800s where it’s canon that most of the characters don’t even know how to read like for real if you don’t think that’s heavy as fuck I don’t wanna hear it
That title is just the coolest way I could think of to sum up this idea
So basically I just read through a literal Shit ton of the humans are space orcs stuff and I got to thinking all the aliens already are in contact with eachother before they find us right so here is my theory as to why this is
The closer to the Center you get the more inhabitable planets you find all these dudes found eachother really quickly and were like “let’s become homies” (friendly reminder that these guys are from REALLY mineraly rich plants so war to them is a foreign policy) they keep on doing this eventually have to fight some wars and gather a military
Eventually they start to notice that the further out they go the more dangerous planets get and consequently the tougher the inhabitants get. so they do some math and are like “Kay so intelligent cannot be found this distance away from the Center” this place becomes known as the Dead Zone
They get proven wrong a bunch of times the first time they find a creature in the Dead Zone it’s a zaxxo (I just made that name up give me a break) which are essentially a really fucking big single cell organism they survive on sunlight and can adapt to anything except temperature which is fine for them as they live in THE FUCKING VACUUM OF SPACE.
Anyways language barriers were a Bitch with these guys but eventually a solution was reached
So then people start going “hey if one thing can live in the Dead Zone why can’t another”
Which is pretty sound logic you know
So then they find the drakeks (look I’m bad with names okay) which are these super tall armor plated motherfuckers with poisonous spikes emitting from every orifice I mean sure they’re not the smartest but they don’t need to when they can survive the gravity of their planet which is only THE SIZE OF OUR SUN yeah they’re fucking op. eventually peaceful contact is established and most of them are enrolled into the military (tho there is one REALLY popular drakek musician)
They keep on exploring for maybe a thousand more years and then everyone goes “okay that’s it we already going
Found two species capable of jumping from one planet to another (turns out that if you put a drakek on a normal planet they’re even more terrifying, what gives?)”
it’s a bit after the Dead Zone exploration program is shut down that humans show up and there’s the normal “OH MY DEROG THESE FUCKERS CAN’T BE KILLED” then after ages and ages humans are kinda normalised and integrated like they’re still REALLY fucking handy to have around and really cute and all the other goodness that is associated with the humans are space orcs stuff.
This is the setting for an idea of mine that I may or may not end up posting I honestly don’t know if you read to the end of this I love you. Bye
Can I be honest here? When I first saw
this scene, I was honestly worried for a second that All Might would be a
untouchable, a bit arrogant and overly confident guy. Just for a split-second,
I thought “Oh no, he’s gonna be one of those untouchable hero-idols again who
will only show up in the story whenever there’s a really big fight that the
protagonist can’t handle”.
Why I thought that – perhaps because I
felt something about his behavior was faked. Perhaps because he just picked up
the nearest piece of paper he could find and wrote down his autograph without
even being asked for it, probably
thinking that everyone would love to have his autograph, anyway.
But gosh, was I wrong. In the mere span of
a few minutes, all those worries were shut down.
Untouchable? Invincible? No. All Might is
shown to be bleeding and hiding behind a strong façade only a bit later.
Him not showing up in the series apart
from important fights? Ha! Since the manga started, All Might has been at
Izuku’s side as often as possible. I even miss him when he isn’t there, because
I’m just so used to him being close
to Izuku (even if it’s just watching from around the corner like a worried dad)
And then, when I rewatched BNHA, I noticed
this little scene here:
All Might didn’t just pick the notebook up
and write his autograph into it. He really read
it first. The book had fallen open during the fight with slime guy, if I
remember correctly. He probably caught sight of the sketches of heroes Izuku
had done and took a look into it.
He noticed how detailed Izuku’s notes
where. He took into consideration how much time the boy had spent gathering all
those information about the heroes, and how much love had went into each
detail. Knowing Izuku, that fanboy probably even wrote down his thoughts near
the notes, little bits and pieces of excited rambling and theories.
All Might didn’t write his autograph into
the notebook because he egoistically assumed that it would be what the boy
He wrote the autograph into the notebook
because, after seeing Izuku’s addiction to heroes, his love for everything
concerning it, he knew how much this autograph would mean for the boy.
Well done, Horikoshi. You managed to
literally pulverize all the clichés concerning shounen-mentors and designed one of the most lovable,
dorkiest yet most awesome characters I’ve ever seen. Not to mention what a
heartwarming relationship between mentor and student was created here.
Also, what kind of dorky autograph is this, you drew your own eyebrows and eye-shadows under it you utter DORK
it gets harder to talk about but it gets easier to hold it in. to sit up prettier, to shut up louder, to pretend i don’t want you when all i want is to give in, to hold back the tears at the bar and release them once i get into my own bed, to pretend i want to exist. i want to exist. i want to exist. if i say it enough times, even i believe it. but suddenly, i’m a couple drinks in and i remember how unhappy i really am and everybody’s having fun around me but i can’t breathe anymore and my friend tells me i’m a wimp for never expressing my anger when the second i express it, there is always someone there to invalidate it. it’s getting easier to call myself crazy as an excuse for feeling, as if i’m not allowed to feel, as if this pressure build-up in my head is nothing but unequal brain chemistry, and everybody is so easy to brush off my emotions as being a product of mental illness instead of re-evaluating their own actions and wondering how in the world they could have made me feel this way.
so yeah, to say i’m mad is an understatement. to say i’m mad would even be lying. because it goes deeper than this feeling i experience once in a while, the real truth is that i’m sad and that sadness runs deep. i’m hurt. i feel like nobody even cares if they hurt me and the second i even suspect i am offending a stranger, i say sorry. but people run from me instead of apologize because their pride is more important than my feelings and it’s always been that way. i fall in love with anyone who shows me affection and people think it’s weird but when you’ve been deprived for so long from people who will listen, i don’t know, it’s hard. it’s still hard to believe that the second i start spilling my emotions, people talk over me. nobody wants to be with the person who brings up serious conversations at parties. nobody wants to be there for the girl who is always sad. everyone wants to pretend it doesn’t exist. and the more they pretend, the more i realize i’m getting good at this.
so i try to shut up until i can’t. like this time last year, i was showing up to your house to scream at you because i spent so much time holding everything in. but last night, i sent you fifteen text messages and deleted every one before i pressed send and i know no one’s gonna be there to congratulate me but maybe i can start being proud of myself because i don’t know how else i’m going to make this inadequate feeling end. you know, maybe i just have to keep trying things until i find something that works, maybe i just have to fly through boys until i find someone who isn’t gonna leave, maybe i just have to realize that the only person i’m ever going to truly have is me and i should stop holding people to impossible standards because they’re never going to live up to them and i’m always going to end up disappointed. nobody’s ever gonna care the way i want them to. it’s like i’m impossible to please. but god, i don’t know - i just wish for one second, someone would be excited about something because i am. be sad about something because i am. make me feel like my feelings affect others in some way. like they mean something. i’m growing so tired of the blank stares they give me.
i don’t know. maybe i’ve always asked for too much but i can’t remember the last time someone told me they loved me and if we’re being honest here: it’s devastating. i’m sad. i feel like i have nobody left. everyone likes me at first because i am so outgoing - i say what i’m thinking - but they leave soon after they realize that i am too much to deal with and they don’t really want to hear what’s in my head. they turn away because my insecurities make them nervous and who wants to deal with the girl who asks you if you hate them every five seconds? you say you don’t hate me but your body language tells me everything. i know i’m getting annoying but i can’t stop so i keep repeating it: i want to exist. i want to exist. i want to exist.
they say you’ve gotta let people in but the more i let people in, the more i regret it. i’m tired of silencing myself but it’s like the moments i’m silent are the only moments i’m not ruining everything.
I WANT TO EXIST. I WANT TO EXIST. I WANT TO EXIST. I’M NOT REALLY SAD. REMEMBER THIS.