#little audience in my head driving me nuts

[treymeow]

I HAVE TO KEEP REMINDING MYSELF THAT THE LITTLE AUDIENCE IN MY HEAD ISNT REAL OH MY GOD

Please tell me I'm not crazy and other people get this too right??

[underwaterbanshee]

I love your post about Tula, I just finished the latest ep of burrows end and I am SCROUNGING for theories.

What do you think she was ‘fundamentally lying’ about?? I’ve seen a couple posts floating around:

- one was how maybe Geoffrey could’ve been a bad husband and Tula didn’t save him because of it (maybe killed him?)

- Another was, maybe the Blue (radiation?) is killing her to use it?

- Another good one, was maybe Tula isn’t their (Jaysohn and Lila’s) bio mother.

I don’t have a very good or original educational guess, but I don’t think she killed Geoffrey. I do think she knows what did, and she’s lying so her children aren’t vengeful. She doesn’t want her children chasing power, to avenge their dad, or getting caught up in what he was deeply in.

I think it’s been said before, but in some of Geoffrey’s art he has a little grass belt, and the only other stoats we’ve seen have tools/clothes, was in Last Bast. (I can see the connection there, but we’ve also seen Viola have ‘accessories’, so it could just be a red herring.)

I think maybe Tula knows more about Last Bast (or humans) than she lets on, possibly from Geoffrey (if the grass belt is a connection.) I think Geoffrey saw something, or knew something in Last Bast, and ran. Eventually, he found the red Warren, fell in love, and started a family.

Now with an invested interest to keep his family safe, he’s using what he learned in Last Bast in the Red Warren, which somehow got him killed. (By a human? Maybe? The humans that saw Thorn seemed more interested than expressing a want to kill him - maybe humans want to test the stoats for radiation sickness, or something like that?) it’s giving watership down meets Chernobyl, the natural world clashing with human disasters.

Just some thoughts! I feel like there’s so many clues and pieces on the board, but no lines connecting them. There’s an allegory that I’m not catching, and it’s driving me NUTS.

What do you make of this? :)

(sorry for the long ask! Just excited!)

omg this is my very first ask and I'm trying to be normal about it

So, it's been a few days and I've been going over this in my head and here are my conclusions to your lovely, lovely ask <3

The lie is probably something incredibly mundane.

Adults lie to children all the time. Lila is going through what every child goes through as they become a teenager--she's starting to see the cracks between reality, truth, and the fictions adults use to process an unfair world.

I think it is entirely possible that when the lie is revealed, an adult audience might go, "Oh, that's not a big a deal," while Lila overreacts with betrayal.

It's entirely possible Geoffrey is from Last Bast.

The only thing I'm basing this on, besides character art, is that Tula is based on Mrs. Brisby from Secret of NIMH and Last Bast is giving me Rats of NIMH vibes, not secret authoritarian cult vibes (which is an entirely different post that I'll probably never write). I mean, the Rats had magic and electricity.

Also, Brian might be analogous to Jenner, the power hungry Rat, the First Stoats might be like Nicodemus, just like Bennett is probably Justin.

Did I want Bennett to be a fuckable version of Justin for Tula? Yes. But that's only because my childself wanted Justin and Mrs. Brisby to end up together. Baby Banshee didn't understand why that wouldn't work. She wanted love to win.

Anyway.

Based on how much the Red Warren Family popped off against Last Bast during this episode, I don't know if there will be more Secret of NIMH elements playing out. It's possible Tula could bring up Geoffrey and get confirmation on that but I don't think it's important to our stouts anymore.

But wouldn't it be interesting if Tula knew about Last Bast before they arrived? Didn't someone say something about lies of omission?

Mrs. Brisby's character arc is about having enough courage to move her family while her son has pneumonia. She confronts an owl, a cat, and a power hungry rat who deliberately puts moving the mouse family's home in jeopardy, in order to keep her family safe.

During most of the story, her children are in the dark about what she's doing to keep them alive and protect their future.

What an amazing archetype as Tula's touchstone.

One of the great things about the d20 campaigns is not only the mashup but how the players resolve the mashup after making a mess. I might be seeing lots of NIMH being laid down, now that the Watership Down portion is somewhat resolved but I'm prepared to be totally wrong as maybe our vicious varmints take us in a new direction.

Like I said--obsessed with Tula =^_^=

[jess-the-vampire]

To be fair, the whole mind reading thing with Belos in canon isn't necessarily unheard of, seeing how Odalia could do the same with her Oracle magic.

Then again, she specifically needed an enchanted amulet in order to communicate with Amity telepathically, so we're back to square one here.

i think i mentioned it before in the past, but belos's powerset is a little wonky, i'm not really convinced he wasn't rewritten between seasons because of some of these detials.

he has this artificial magic, something that is kinda neat and was a dead giveaway he wasn't a normal witch, but the show never really explains what artificial magic is and how it works exactly. Toh has rules for it's magic so it is a wonder exactly how one creates a "Fake magic" on the isles. (Like at one point they maybe imply it's coming from his arm glyphs but that doesn't explain his staff or hunter's staff)

Collector claims he taught belos magic, but outside of the draining spell....we don't really know what he means by that specifically.

and then you have his curse, which is a whole mess in itself, he's got several abilities, some of which just kinda....happen. Not to mention the rules of his curse aren't really clear to an audience member who thinks about it in more detail, like how much control he has over the curse for example (He has scenes where he clearly has control but there are others where he clearly doesn't), or why he was cursed and for what reason, or if the palisman are an extension of life or just to keep the curse at bay (Maybe both? but why would he do this before even seeing caleb again?) ....and also....what the glyph arm is even about. Heck, i'm not quite sure why belos can talk to the palisman in his head, but hunter can't communicate with flap in his own if we're to believe both are being used for a similar purpose of giving the other magic and life. (I mean maybe you can say the fact Philip forced them to give up their lives puts them in some kinda limbo, and not flap who chose to move on, but Philip can also apparently remove them from his head so like-)

(I've heard a LOT of people go on about belos's curse being played for sympathy from the other characters, that he's faking it and it's another addition to how bad of a person he is. And i'm not saying he never faked it, he probably did in some of these scenes, but there's also a lot of scenes where he's clearly in pain and not in control of the curse, so it's clearly not something he's faking for sympathy all of the time. I get the impression this is just because the show really didn't do the greatest job making how his curse functioned clear to the audience that a lot of people are now convinced he was never in pain when he clearly was since he has scenes where it makes no sense to fake it.

Like my best interpretation that makes the most sense is he does have outbursts and he does get hurt but he takes advantage of them, weaponizing his own pain and curse to his benefit where possible)

and then.....we got this power from season 1, which never comes back and is never explained. It could be arguably an oracle power, but oracle magic might be the most underexplored magic covens in the show next to healing, so i genuinely have no idea if that was the intent or even what oracle magic does in this world. I would think if it had use like this belos would use it more often, would of avoided a lot of future issues had he done so.

This might sound a bit nitpickey, it's just i spent a lot of time trying to decipher his abilities to use in my work and i ran into a lot of walls trying to figure out how any of this works in the universe of the show.

he feels like he needs a character bible, there's just a lot here that doesn't quite make sense and i would of loved to have explained in better detail.

and the show usually (Mostly) makes sense with it's magic (Trust me, belos isn't the only character in this show whose magic abilities drive me nuts), i think eda's curse is actually well handled and well explained to the audience. You really understand how her curse works, how she controls and works with it, and it remains consistent in it's abilities.

belos just has way too many abilities, some of which just kinda happen, a lot that aren't entirely explained, and half the time i wonder why he never uses some of these powers at other points in the show.

this fact might not bother some people, but if you're someone trying to study his powers for your work, like me, it's really noticeable.

i think what happened is they needed belos to be able to do several things for plot reasons (He needs a fake magic to hide the human twist, he needs to possess hunter for reasons, he needs to pretend to be human for one scene at the end so now he suddenly can shapeshift, he needs to find out about luz stealing from him so sudden kinetic powers) and then it just became way too much.....i think they should of kept it simpler and less vague if you ask me.

the man has far too many abilities, and too little explanations for why he has them or how they work.

Having some proper limits to his powerset and being able to go from A to B To C on how he works would do miles for him.

[lealdern]

How To Stay Conscious When You Drown

Explicit content further on: Minors please DNI.

Dick x Reader AO3 Link

Summary: Dick Grayson is going through hard times, you see that on his face before you even know his name. You reach out a hand to offer comfort without realising he's a man treading water.

Next Chapter

Chapter 1: Expectations She/her reader

Some days Dick feels like the Ringmaster of his life. He’s Centre stage commanding the audience who watch with rapt attention as he directs amazing things across the stage, a single gesture bringing light to something wondrous all while he’s smiling and turning to the audience in the round. 

Other days he feels like the monkey on a chain next to the organ grinder, dancing for cheap thrills and the occasional smile of a passer-by. Out of control of his own life, unable to do anything beyond the sphere of the music, like it’s all he knows except for the occasional reward of a nut or coin. 

Today he feels like the monkey. 

The last week, he has felt like the monkey. 

The last few months…

He drinks his hazelnut coffee with a grimace, the irony of the flavour shot he ordered isn’t lost on him. If he’d thought of this analogy in the queue instead of sat at a table he wouldn’t have ordered the shot of syrup. 

“You’re being way too generous with all the fucks you’re giving.”

The eyes that look up at you when you speak are sad, weighed down by whatever is going on in this guy’s life. You’d seen him in the queue as you had sipped on your hot chocolate. The face journey he was going through looked like it was about more than him trying to decide on his coffee order: He looked like he was wrestling with a bear while chewing wasps. When he’d stepped forward as the queue moved, he’d done so haltingly, like his limbs had started to rust as he’d stood still for longer than two seconds:  Like his body wasn’t used to stopping. You’d finished your drink and eyed the wrapped brownie on the table, decision made without a thought. 

Life is hard. Chocolate is good. A kind stranger is a pit stop on a cross country drive. 

Respite. 

When you speak you give him a small smile, a little lopsided like you can’t quite understand what you’re doing, and you place the brownie in front of him delicately, like it’s some sort of amulet against the horrors of the world.

“Whatever it is, don’t forget to take yourself into account too,” he looks up at you like you’re a riddle to solve and you shrug, “there’s no way of knowing what others expect of you. Only yourself. Take care.” 

With that you leave, and Dick stares down at the brownie wondering if it is wise to apply such succinct advice to his life, delivered from a stranger with a gentle smile. 

Either way, what you said, somehow you’d reached him on the mountain peak of self-pity he’d isolated himself on top of, much to the resignation of those around him. 

He unwraps the brownie and takes a bite. 

It’s maybe two weeks later when you see him again. He looks peaceful, less like he’s wrestling with an angry bear in his mind and more like he’s enjoying his silence and moment of respite without any guilt. You leave him be, buying a hot chocolate and sitting in your usual spot to go through your phone at a leisurely pace. 

A brownie slides into view, pushed across the table, and you look up into easy blue eyes that make you think of forget-me-nots. They’re brighter today. 

“I’m being less generous with those fucks I was giving,” he says it with a smile, and you know those words you’d said to him have played around in his head long enough for them to take root and become something of a mantra.

“That’s good.” When you say it Dick feels like you really do mean that, “do you want to sit?” He sits and places his flat white on the table, you eye the name on the cup with a wry smile, “Did you piss off the barista?”

He looks confused for a moment before looking at his cup and laughing, it sounds airy and relaxed, “My name’s Richard, but I go by Dick.”

You introduce yourself with an easy smile, and he trusts his gut when it tells him you’d be someone worth knowing. There’s a gentleness to your eyes that looks hard won; like you’d gone through things just like anyone else in Bludhaven and came out of the other side wiser but not crueller for it. Not cynical or jaded.

Plastic rustles and he watches you split the brownie in two inside of the wrapper, opening it and offering one end to him. He takes it, feels like he should, and he knows he was right to when you look happier for it.

You both take a bite

Next Chapter

(a/n: This was a self challenge where I put my liked songs on shuffle and wrote a chapter that was inspired by that song while at the same time writing a multi chapter story (it's not a song fic though). Will be explicit later for smut so I've marked it as explicit now.

This chapter was inspired by Expectations- Katie Pruitt)

[directdogman]

What's ur fav DT character you made?

Tough to say overall. Compromise: I'll answer for different criteria! One I'd most wanna hang with irl if the cast were real: Probably Oliver. I like Karen's personality too, but I fear my comic antics would bewilder and frighten her. Oliver would be much, MUCH harder to baffle in this way. Plus, he'd totally wanna watch awful CG mockbusters with me, such as Ratatoing. I'm shaking with anger imagining this but I still REALLY wanna do it. Need to rewatch Ratatoing, I hate it so much. It makes me feel so alive. The character I find the most interesting: Probably Callum Crown! I wrote a lot more for the character on paper, unsure if I was gonna make more Dialtown stuff, and it's driving me nuts because it'd be an injustice to reveal info about his past and his actions/motivations in a post like this. The big issue with Dialtown's setting is... well, it's not Callum's story, it's the story of Gingi and all of his bizarre little friends. There's only one NPC in Dialtown who could tell us things about Callum that would likely shock the audience, and he's playing dumb, though the act falls occasionally. Without an obvious narrator, Callum's story remains what it is in Dialtown... a biased and stitched-together account of the most important man who may have ever lived. It's frustrating to know that while every account of Callum in-game isn't intentionally untruthful, they're all very incomplete pictures of him, and all from people who didn't really understand him. There's so much about his character that I'd love to talk about, I just... can't. Because it's not relevant to any of the information that Dialtown's NPCs were willing to provide to the audience. But, it's all in my head and always has been. If I were to reveal everything I'd decided about Callum's motivations/actions and you were to replay the final route, you'd notice some seemingly throwaway statements suddenly being very relevant to how Dialtown's world works. Granted, the statements are 100% generic without that context, ofc. It's a habit of mine, I compulsively write more material for my characters. I get too invested in them, it's a disease. On the one hand, yeah, I'm a pox upon the face of the earth. On the other: hey! At least my characters stay consistent across entries because I know what they'd do/say next before even starting a sequel story! Sorry, yeah, no spoilers ofc, but expect more of Callum in future DT content. ;) The character I most enjoy writing for: Very tough to answer. Maybe Mayor Mingus, just baaaaarely? Her uptight and confrontational nature allows her to dominate any scene she's placed in. There aren't really any Mingus scenes where she isn't the main (if not TOTAL) center of attention. Other than Gingi, I'm not sure if any other character HAS the ability to force a dynamic in any scene you put them in, hell, probably even better than Gingi. Even Gingi's chicanery has its limits (Tango being a good example), but Mingus is the same to everyone. That relentless consistency really compliments her obsession with conformity. Plus, it fits that almost every trait she hates in the player happen to be traits she possesses, so ofc her note REALLY presses the 'lawless' side of Gingi's nature, because it's the only stable logical footing she has. Of COURSE she's a law-abiding citizen, she IS the law. The character whose design I most enjoy: Likely Mayor Mingus, again. Her head is my cat's head. C'MON.

[angeltannis]

Pros of Bride of Frankenstein (1935):

-The Bride looked really fucking cool. I loved her snappy, almost animalistic head movements.

-I liked learning more about the first monster, though he continues to be so tragic :c I loved the idea of him befriending a blind man who couldn’t see him to be afraid of him. And when the monster sympathetic cries with the guy!! 😭

-I guess this movie is considered by some “the earliest queer horror film”? Because of Frankenstein and Pretorius’ weird thing going on, with them creating life together. Also apparently the director of both Frankenstein and BoF was an openly gay man, so both the queer interpretations of BoF and the whole ordeal of the monster in general makes a lot more sense through that lens.

With Frankenstein being my favorite of the classic horror movies I’ve watched so far, it got me a little emotional to think about a gay person nearly a hundred years ago making a story that connected with a modern gay viewer (me) without me even knowing that tidbit. The pain radiates.

-not necessarily a pro or a con, but I thought it was wild how they caught audiences up by having actors portraying Mary and Percy Shelley and Lord Byron sitting around talking about the first movie, lmao. What a weird choice. I guess it worked, though.

Cons:

-why was The Bride in the movie for less than five minutes?!? The way these old movies culminate in the last 10-15 minutes and then just abruptly end drives me nuts!!

-Hays code censorship could be very clearly felt in this movie. The weird ass “happy ending” of the monster killing himself and the bride in the name of saving the doctor (who was never anything but cruel to him) was strange as hell.

If they wanted to have a happy ending, why not have the monsters establish a friendship and leave somewhere together 😭 Guessing this had something to do with it, though:

-I thought there’d be some explanation as to why her hair is Like That. There is not.

Overall rating: 7/10

Note: I was in a pretty bad mood when I watched this, so I may not have been in a space to fully appreciate it. I may revisit this film at some point.

[scarlett-iwonne]

Lyz' 5 - Focus

Focussing-Upon Something is to be focusing on a thing or upon such a thing, while any sort or kind of focus loss and the such, as in the process of losing a focused state or condition of cognitive accuracy, is said to be plainly unfocused, or otherwise unfocusing or having unfocused said thing or, it might also be said to have lost a focus, maybe together with on or upon followed by it, such so often is the said thing.

By being focused on focusing bound with either an on or an upon something, however, means the meaning of staying focused exactly that is, though not to forget that if not instead, metacognitive thinking is the actual context instead, changing the actual meaning of the entire situation again of the poor forgotten thing we've said and only if and that's what a focus is actually meant for

either lense up or lents down get your hold over your hands and your hinchy head again. Force France Frenzy frown Fans Fins Thumbs Forethrown thin tin can Firecat Cutfella Focus Fez Fossils Fuzzy Fis Cussings Things Locus Lotus Focal Fatal Local Far-Right Referential Frugal I Find easy to bethieve a faith Faucault is his name incorrectily misremembered and improperly written by me, or is it? Let uns feel, steal nothing like F words anymore let's concentrate on rehearsive appeal.

It's sounding somelike akin to gobbledygook, Corporate Cantonese Chinese chit-chatter, Jackie Chan in a checkish kung-fu family film featuring this fanservice just so it lands tonguey expressiveness lisp of his it is, as it is presented to his audience.

And the focus within, - also with an on or upon, of course - to observe the Great or Single, fair to feit letterwise Wrong and Right as well, pro or contra it's numerous consequences are hidden even deeper within and nothing, never ever having any one of these stuffs, but cognitive resources well shockshit, too insufficient, just not a single unretarded card landing up at hand to think through chaos yet certain cold anxiety noises easier than reason to listen to but for colorful light shimmer engorgery brain is not enough brain? great to enjoy inavailable the world in raw unorder That is not right.

It is wrong.

In the end, what is so significant then what's the point to poker a pot which pays you no vendor and burns more like real shit than hashish and card metaphors turned to stoned it boils down to the question I beg analyzing an art is not really wrong, I admit, it is hard and more often than not impossible.

Elaborations, unneccessary creations word generations, delusional the most my meta rule engines the dull flesh my laziness bears.

When is it whole paragraphs too long where was awareness gone what sounds wise who am I,

and are you fellow gendered stranger in front of that curious letter user are you more important than me you so called Missesy Lady Madam Bibabuttens who is, from, her, their and your Majesty of Royally?

Abnormally nobel and novel a genie of next stationing away from obsession to forthflowing content!

Really, content, stay to it avoid going nuts from overreacting about the wrong thing this is your rail.

Just imagine, against the facts clearly not at hand Assume: your curse protects from, say Adverse effects perverted defects murdering insects

religiously the fallacy acts the Pope's racial pedigree bibles brible library liar blessphemy chapter apes shape the chapel pslam verses Christian Territorial hissings clashings and death wishings Let me be please preach Guess that's a way.

So, what is this tiny little tale's lesson here learnt?

Ech, who am I asking there anyway as if I and my own, wonderful echelon besides me, entirely made out of all of my positive traits were out on a hustle for some hustling or is that me? Part genie, art genie a gentle data editor sprite

or taken off masks a human being resolving a spite the cure through hard drive overrides.

What might my friends be thinking now, without knowing how much I think about them now and simply hope to appeal to them, not to disappoint them, precisely because I trust them as deeply as they trust me too why must love always hurt so much and nevertheless, no one is ever to look away from the pain of others those close to you and about your pain of aware sight, who simply stand around just like you?

Who is taking the reins when and who is taking amiss when about whom who decides when is what to be done how and where who is telling us where we come from and why we do whatever we do?

Is that love. Is this love? This is love? That's love. Friends are the loveliest. They are simply the lovely ones lovely. Screw sex for a second or two, one does fuck one another the best way mentally anyway before chilling out on those ours well-equipoised equivalents of the cigarette after. Oh, friendship, wicked substance but who is the alchemist and who the philosopher or the physicist? Or our medical prodigy today? I prefer one role about all the brains, perhaps, white coffee for me.

The Focus and the Ego who I am, as a sum out of all of you, or you, sum of them and us,

It is defined through the current condition of that approximately relevant situation since whatever it is directed on or upon so much a mathematical function alike and spits out essentials in numbers and clock gear cogs and odds so that the thankful you, for these volitional line breaks over everywhere, are left gobsmacked your turn to jaw my drop even downer,

and eventually everything that you want that you are, that you eat, that you're willing to be and to become is yielded by what you're seeing and others are seeing about you thatever you've seen and nothing else but the comparison, this one special process, operation between letters and thinked thoughts

as final component to the last trick for the quiry to insights which still might be left lacking, and a huge fun it's going to be to untangzzigle, iron and refubrish after the after the Lysergical what pity, has to leave again soon but still is quite a while around here and there until then

let's enjoy the symmetry of that duck over there!

[terribletoonietuesday]

A Life on the Farm (2022) With only a few short hours of discovery that this documentary was playing in my town I needed to change my schedule and rush in the rain to get to see this. Mainly because it was a Melindas production. A production group of the found footage festival which I have always been a big time fan. However a different element was compelling me subconsciously that the film would make clear. A life on the Farm is a documentary of a man (DIrector Oscar Harding ) sees a homemade movie made by an ageing eccentric farmer called Charles Carlson in very rural England. After a decade of remembering this video tape through the eyes of childhood memory he would finally see it again. Realising the oddity of the farmer while yet being so strange yet so sincere and passionate about his daily life on his farm would drive the viewer ask two necessary questions "Who is this farmer?" and "Why did he make this video?". We then discuss in the history of fairly secluded farmer Charles Carlson , what is art? how do we judge something? mental illness? human interaction in general. We don't get a true answer but a good film or documentary shouldn't give full and complete answers but should make us understand people in general more. Without spoiling anything of what was on the video that director Oscar Harding found or what he discusses with several video archivist and home film making enthusiasts, what we do discover is that art and emotion do not have clear on and offs. We witness moments that on one hand can unarguably be some of the darkest most morbid moments in life while at the exact same time can also not be argued are equally the most honest, heartwarming moments in the spectrum of beautiful at the exact same time.  A main theme of the documentary is discussing life and death but this can be added to any discussion on a personal level. As a fan of zero budget , self made, DIY films, I receive a large part of it is a sense of voyeurism. Wondering why someone made this film and since they are not famous figure heads molded by an image consultant, I start to be more fascinated in the question of "who are these people?" As a child I spent a few years in a very nearby part of England but it wasn't just the accents , the sheep and cows and rubber boots that connected me to this subject matter so much. I get so called "films" sent to me by backyard film makers and outsider artists all the time for my off brand film festival Terriblefest. I watch literally 1000s of them but only a few make it to the festival. This is usually just for above all reasons to entertain my audience. Through all the films I get gems that affect me and stay close to me for maybe unconventional reasons, reasons I know may not be shared by everyone  I do still show these "films" to similar minded people in the industry so these "artists" or simply oddball personalities at least find someone to appreciate their art. This is why A Life on the Farm clicked with me so hard.  It's not a simple statement of don't judge a book by its cover but more of enjoying the discussion of why this affects me and why it does not affect others. We are all different and some of us even more different than others.

Glad I made it just in time , rain or shine to see this in a theatre.

A real love letter to all DIY film makers who may feel they are a little nuts

[francesderwent]

I do like Marvel, and it saddens me to say this, but Spiderman: Far From Home is just not a good film.

it’s seriously confused about whether it is a Spiderman film or an Iron Man film. I know, I know. that’s the point, that it’s Peter realizing he doesn’t have to “live up” to the mantle of Iron Man because even Tony struggled to do that (???). but my point is it doesn’t work. it tells you that Tony didn’t intend for Peter to “be” Iron Man and then it shows you Peter...being Iron Man. it plucks Peter out of NYC (and then switches locations so often you get whiplash). the villain is Tony’s villain, Peter merely caught in the crosshairs of an old feud. after they have a nice heart-to-heart about Tony’s expectations, Peter turns around and picks up Tony’s tech like he was born to it while "Back In Black” plays and Tony’s old assistant gazes on fondly. is this Spiderman coming into his own or is this the new Iron Man? the audience is getting VERY mixed messages.

Mysterio is a weird choice for a supervillain without any superpowers (especially because, again, this puts him in the realm of typical Iron Man supervillains and not Spiderman ones). the sequences where Peter is trapped in an illusion don’t work for me because I keep thinking “wait, how is this working with drones??” those sequences might have been okay if Mysterio had initially claimed to have illusion powers. but he doesn’t make that claim, and even after Peter finds out it’s all illusion, there’s no point at which he thinks it’s “real” magical illusion, so he knows it’s drones, too. drones and projections laid onto real people? so when a whole crew of spidermen jump on top of Peter, smothering him, that’s just regular people jumping on top of him for the Aesthetic? what???

Mysterio’s desire to “become the next Iron Man” makes very little sense. the movie candidly admits that if there were any other avengers around he would get his ass kicked five ways to wednesday, so Mysterio’s plan is only going to work for as long as they’re off-world. and even if the avengers stay off-world, what’s Mysterio’s plan for when something actually bad happens? and you can’t tell me he’s just unhinged, because he got dozens of people to sign onto this plan with him, so the plan ought to make sense.

as previously stated by others more insightful than I, the whole conceit of who “ought” to have EDITH is absolutely insane. nobody ought to have EDITH. all those weaponized drones should be launched into the effing sun. Captain America didn’t almost drown taking down the hellicarriers for Project Insight for this kind of bs to continue--and Tony didn’t repent of creating Ultron to just turn around and create something like this! it’s bad character writing! and it’s bad morality!!

the plotline with Peter’s spider sense not working (??) needed to be way more spelled out. this could have been at the center of the film, Peter’s exhaustion and uncertainty of whether he’s Spiderman or Iron Man leading to the loss of his spider sense. they could have showed it slowing him down in the fights, and letting him be tripped up in his regular life, making him look even more awkward than usual. but as is, it’s just a plot device which allows him to get stuck in those aforementioned illusion sequences, and magically disappears just in time for Peter to stop Mysterio from shooting him in the head.

the final post-credits scene with Nick Fury being not the real Nick Fury is an absolutely off-the-wall terrible decision. in a movie which is in some sense about Peter learning to see through illusions to what’s underneath, to what’s real and what matters, to then turn around at the end and say “but not this, haha, you were all fooled!” leads to just feeling cheated, and for no good reason. and the movie is already struggling to deal with the loss of Tony as Peter’s mentor figure, so to replace Tony with Happy and Not-Even-The-Real-Nick-Fury is a crazy move.

the Happy and May subplot drives me nuts. the writers dance around it--do they have a thing? don’t they?--but then they refuse to commit at the last second because it’s only interesting to them insofar as it’s funny, they don’t want to actually have to deal with the emotional implications of Peter’s aunt having a new relationship, which is LAZY and CHEAP. and it’s worsened by the fact that Ned and Betty break up at the end of the film, too. everything is played for laughs, not played for keeps.

[britishchick09]

i just saw the bob’s burgers movie alriiiiight! :D

(well ok not just but ya know ;) )

it was a blast to watch! there were so many people in the theater and they were all laughing! it was like we were watching an ep of the show together! :D

spoilery thoughts about it below ;)

the trailer reminded me of the simpsons movie (which i saw in theaters back in ‘07) and while that one had big af stakes, this movie had big stakes. i liked it a lot more!

the lighting and some shots in the movie were so well done and reminded me of sailor moon eternal! :D

there were some young girls who giggled throughout the movie and it was very cute! i was 8 (going on 9 later in the year) when bob’s burgers came out so i wonder if they were too...

the little flashback to bob and linda seeing their empty restaurant was so sweet! :’)

i loved seeing so many characters! :D

i liked how gene explained the itty bitty ditty committee to rudy and darrell! it was nice for people who haven’t seen the show

also there were so many ep callbacks! a couple off the top of my head is tina’s heat rash, which is the itchy crotch from the pilot! and teddy puts ‘bob burger’ on the cart which is what he thinks bob’s name is ;)

oh yeah there was another callback when bob was lying on the floor! it was just like tina in that one season 1 ep! :D

he groans just like her! :)

everyone in the audience laughed at linda kicking bob in the nuts! :D

and the girls giggled a lot at bob’s little grill dance!

bob yelling while mort and teddy are in the restaurant brought me back to the early eps! :)

louise’s hat story is sweet :) (even if it’s a tad different than she remembered wink wink...)

i was hoping the mechanical shark would be in the sinkhole BUT THAT SKELETON THO OMG :o

louise in the hole reminded me of the taffy factory ep and i half expected taff to appear lol ;D

it was neat to see jerico again! :D

oooh i just remembered another reference! linda wishes gene luck on his math test and says ‘four!’ which is like in the ep with gene, alex and courtney playing their basement game when she randomly shouted out numbers and bob was like ‘saying random numbers isn’t math’

mickey sounded a tad off and turns out it was a different actor but it’s cool! at least it wasn’t like in his most recent ep appearance...

some of the cronies’ dances were funny :D

when bosco was at the biker bar i was like ‘come on show us the one eyed snakes!’ AND BOOM there was critter! ;D

bosco’s car was obvious cgi but that was cool cgi! :D

the cuff link looked cute! :)

i liked how ron wears chapstick just like his buddy hugo :)

tina trying to roll under the bed tho! :D

the last character i expected to see was felix’s girlfriend! :o

when the kids were going through the wharf i hoped bob and linda wouldn’t catch them! :o

erik would’ve absolutely loved mr. fischoeder’s organ! :D

the trap doors have erik vibes too! :D

grover wanting to build a mega park reminded me of pv mall turning into pv :/

it also reminded me of felix’s evil plan in the wharf 2 parter ep!

grover’s spider walk in the underground tho! :o

i thought mr. goiter would be among the merry go round horses there but he wasn’t :/ (or maybe he was and i didn’t spot him?)

some parts in the chase scene reminded me of tangled the series and what do you know mercury filmworks helped animate it! :D

some young girls ran up to the standee right after i took the pic from my last post and asked ‘where’s nat?’ unfortunately...

i was a bit bummed that nat wasn’t in it (so were the standee giggle girls i bet) but it’s ok because there were so many characters! i almost thought she’d drive by in her limo to continue the chase scene

grover BURYING THE BELCHERS ALIVE was so scary!!! :o

i loved seeing bob’s mom!!! the hat connection with louise is so sweet :’)

little bob looks like gene! or should i say travel-sized bob ;)

linda losing her spirit and bob being the one to bring hope was sweet too! :)

i don’t remember the joke exactly but linda said it in the car and everyone in the audience laughed! :D

the belchers couldn’t understand teddy through the car window but i could a bit ;)

i love how brave louise was! :D

zeke doing parkour tho! ;D

i thought it was ok that louise’s head wasn’t shown! some things can stay a secret ;)

my parents and i are usually the only ones in the theater when the end credits scene plays but there were a handful of people who stuck around! :D

overall this was an amazing movie and i’m so glad i was able to enjoy it with so many fans of the belchers! :D

[ozma914]

Finding The Cure for Chicago traffic

Seven years ago, I swore I would never, EVER drive in Chicago again.

Last Saturday, we drove to Chicago. Again.

It was for the same reason as last time, to see The Cure in concert. The Cure's music is ... well ... it's been called post-punk, gothic rock, new wave, and alternative. Robert Smith has fronted the band since the late 70s, so I assume it wasn't all that at the same time. Oddly, while I don't care for those types of music, I actually like The Cure. Not the way Emily does. Not "we have to go to Chicago to see them play". No, sir. But I love my wife, and proved yet again that I'm willing to put my life on the line for her.

The venue was different from last time, giving me the hope it wouldn't be as far into the city.

It wasn't as close. It was closer. We actually drove between the skyscrapers at one point. We experienced our version of "The Suicide Squad".

The place is called The United Center. As I understand it, some sports-ball team plays in it when concert season is over. The Bills, or the Bulls, or the Boobs, something like that.

We got the nosebleed seats, but I didn't realize how literal that was. Our seats were in the very last row of a stadium that seats 23,500 people (sold out), and to get there we had to buy rock climbing equipment and hire a sherpa. It never occured to me that anyone would put in sections so steep that your toes are at the level of the next fan's head, which I'm sure has caused a fight or two. The place had to have been built in the 50s--no way would authorities allow such a fall risk these days. If I'd slipped on the top step, I'd have kept tumbling until I bowled over the drummer.

(I checked: It opened in 1994. They probably had some celebratory hang gliders launch from our position that day.)

And the band? Well, the band was great, but I wish I'd brought my telescope. They looked like little Polly Pockets, if you remember those. Kind of micro-dolls. There were two big TV monitors beside the stage, but we could barely see those either, especially once the questionable smoke started to rise from the audience.

As you can see from the above photo, we actually had a seat right in the center. Cool, right? The crowd is shining their cell phones to bring the band back for an encore. I don't know what encores are in other places, but this was more like the halftime show.

The Cure started a little late, and after that "encore" we walked out to the parking lot, got in the car, and ... sat there. Driving to the venue had been a lot like the asteroid field in "Star Wars V: Crazy Drivers Strike Back". So we decided to let things clear a little, and the more we thought about it, the more we let things clear.

We were, in fact, the last car through the exit gate. On purpose.

 Surely, by well after midnight, both the concert crowd and regular traffic would have regained some measure of sanity, right? RIGHT?

Chicago driver are insane.

Not "bad". In fact, many of them are quite good in a NASCAR kind of a way. Sure, they may arrive with their cars covered in dents and scratches and pedestrians, at a speed that nets them a good 9 mpg gas mileage, but they'll get there fast.

Base, drums, amplifiers ... much calmer.

I had to drive 15 mph over the speed limit just to keep from being rear-ended. Even then, every few minutes something would streak around us like an F-15 doing a flyover. Then it would veer across three lanes, pass someone else, and dive back across the same three lanes without ever touching the brakes.

In heavy traffic. Well, it probably didn't seem heavy to them.

I'd like to speak specifically to everyone in the Chicago area who drives a Dodge Challenger. We saw the rear-end of several, because despite my instincts, I had to keep my eyes open. You people, you're crazy. Nuts. Looney-tunes. The fact that any of you survive is proof of guardian angels.

Typical Chicago Driver Enjoying the Mayhem.

As for us, there were only a few times when I had to stand on the brakes and swerve into another lane. Emily may have screamed, I don't know. I did. The rest of the time my death grip stayed on the steering wheel, my head on a swivel, and my stomach in my mouth.

We got home around 4 a.m., and after we stopped shaking slept most of the day. Then we woke up with a concert hangover. That's a real thing.

Then, the next day, Monday, my muscles remembered they'd spent six hours so tense you could bounce a quarter off them. Not to mention the three hours in the stadium seats, which were actually comfortable for the first hour. (Yeah, my ears popped on the way up, but nobody dropped a car on me.) Ironically, after all that sitting over the weekend, on Monday I couldn't get off the couch.

I'm glad Emily got to see her favorite band, and I'll take her again--if they ever come to Albion.

http://markrhunter.com/ https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

Remember whenever you don't buy a book, another driver is born in Chicago. Oh, the humanity!

[magicalrobodokiofficial]

YET ANOTHER CHAPTER 4 SNEAK PEAK OF MAGICAL ROBODOKI RIFT IN TIME!

Hi! Me and @weaponsdrawn are hard at work putting the final touches of The One Where We Fight A Lot, aka Chapter 4 of Magical Robodoki. To help tide you over, here's yet another sneak peak of this psuedo-sitcom themed chapter, under the cut as always!

***

“Oh no! I’ve gotta host a dinner party for my coworkers…but the HOTEL is filled with MURDER!” Redacted panicked, his delivery all over the place. He failed to notice the portal opening behind him, and with it, the agent team walking inside.

A laugh track played, the audience’s laughter roaring in the air as the group looked at each other in confusion.

“...Anyone else hearing this, or?”

The laugh track played again.

“...This is gonna drive me fuckin’ nuts.” Buzz huffed. Aianna took notice of his stress and looked over at him.

“Are you ok, Hino?”

“I’m…I’m fine. Really.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” Buzz affirmed as he heard the muffled sounds of his bowtie in his pocket. He pulled it out. “Sorry, what was-”

“Um, excuse me? Who are you guys?” Redacted interrupted as he turned to face the group, only to Restricted to appear and grab his arm.

“They’re guests, duh!” She glanced at Keys and Buttons, who quickly adjusted their mascot heads. “And I guess we’ve got a couple of furries in the roo- wait. Wasn’t there a comic convention today? Are you two lost?” As restricted said that last word in disgust, the laugh track played. 

Keys shook his head “no”, shivering a little bit in the process.

“Well, I figured that, but-”

“Just- Just help me clean up the blood stains, ok?” Restricted began to push Redacted out the door, to his protests. “Wha- don’t complain to me! The party starts in an hour and you haven’t even begun to clean this 13 story hotel, which is really grinding my gears here, yknow.” Restricted turned to the group, teeth bared in a fake smile. “Aaaaaaand you didn’t see OR hear that. Bye!”

The two left as the laugh track played once more. 

“...Ok, sorry. We were…interrupted.” Buzz sighed, to Aianna’s concern. She started to reach her hand over towards his shoulder, but pulled it back upon a bit of consideration. “What was that again?”

“I said, we seem to have located another agent that isn’t supposed to be here.”

[yn-dreamlife]

Hello! I wanted to ask if I could have a comfort letter from your event? Totally ok if not!

Nicknames: princess, baby, baby girl, love, babe

Insecurities: my body (I’m chubby and still can’t look at myself very well), feeling dumb or stupid, feeling like I can never do anything right or that I’m not enough, that I’m not worth anyones love

What your comforting about: any of the insecurities is fine, I don’t mind if you just pick a couple or one and just write about that

Characters: Kirishima and Bakugou

Relationship: Dating

Pronouns: she/they

Wow….. I feel like you just gave a request for me😅. Of course I’m happy to write you a letter! It brings me so much joy to write them!! (I did have Kiri call you pebble once but only cause it’s part of your profile name, I can edit it out if it’s upsetting)

Also I am so sorry I haven’t answered this sooner! I’ve been stressed with school but still. Plus I just am forgetful- not that you or your problems don’t mean anything and are forgettable!!

Also to a broader audience and not just the requester. Please always feel free to submit requests, feedback, or anything at all. I’m happy to have a conversation! And if you submit a request and I maybe didn’t give you what you were looking for, let me know! I’ll be happy to try again :)

—————————————————————————

Princess,

Now look here, I know I can call you stupid. And I can be mean and I teasingly pinch at your stomach but it’s not cause I think your stupid or chubby so you better not go thinking that! Tch. I do it cause… damnit your to cute and if I don’t distract myself from that I’ll be like damn shitty hair who makes heart eyes at you 24/7 - hey! It’s not my fault… they’re just so pretty, cute little pebble~ - shut it this is my time, tch. Anyways, you’re so fucking amazing it drives me nuts. Can’t get your stupid cute ass smile out of my head. And every time you hug me I can’t help but be greedy and never want you to pull away so I can feel you against me forever. I love your body, and everything you wear on said body. So if my pinching and teasing you makes you feel worse about yourself tell me and I’ll stop. The last thing I want is to… to make my baby feel worse. I love you so much- which you know it takes a lot for me to feel that way let alone admit that I feel that way. So you better believe you’re worth it god damnit. Because I think you’re so special and so so smart.

Heyyyyy there babe!

Now tell me how’s the best partner in the world doing?? I know you’ve been feeling pretty down and undeserving lately. I’m sorry your going through that and feeling like that, no one deserves that especially not you. You deserve the absolute world, all the love and validation, everything. I just want you to remember that there is nothing me and Katsuki love more than being your partners and getting to show you how amazing and worthy you really are! I mean yeah we love each other of course- but you’re out little love! I know you don’t see yourself the way we see you, and I promise I’ll be here- we’ll be here until you finally can. Also I just wanted to say thank you for all you do for me and Katsuki, you always do such a good job at any task you’re given and I can see all the effort you put in with every action!

With all our love,

Katsuki and Eijiro

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

Bitter Pill to Swallow

Chapter 16 (Chapter Masterlist)

"Well aren't you two a sight for sore eyes!"

Valarie grinned in delight at the two men walking towards her, holding out her arms and inviting them in for a well overdue hug.

"Hope you didn't miss us too much Val," Smokey teased, and she rolled her eyes at the cheeky looks on their faces.

"Maybe for the first five minutes," she quipped, "then I realised how much more peace I'd have without you two around driving me nuts."

"Aw it's alright Val," Tab smirked, throwing an arm around her shoulder casually, "We all know we're your favourites, but we promise we won't tell."

"You two are completely ridiculous," she chuckled, "and of course you arrived back just in time for lunch. It's almost like you planned it."

"Maybe we did," agreed Smokey, "Plus now I get to perform my new poem for a packed audience."

Tab groaned, and Valerie looked between the two of them in amusement. "What's this about a poem Smokey?" she asked, arching a curious eyebrow at him.

"All will be revealed my dear Lieutenant," he said mysteriously. The rest of the walk to the mess hall was spent chatting amicably, with the boys telling her all about their time recovering in the hospital. By the sounds of it there were quite a few nurses who'd taken their eye, but that wasn't even remotely surprising with those two.

When they walked into the already packed mess hall, Valerie spotted Lew and Harry standing by the opposite door, so with a parting promise to Smokey that she'd listen to his dramatic poem, she made her way over to the little group.

"About time you got here," Harry teased, laughing when she socked him in the arm.

"I bumped into the boys on their way here," she explained, plucking a cigarette from his proffered packet, "And Smokey has promised a doozy of a poem to mark his grand return to Easy." Just as she said it the man himself stood on a chair and cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the rowdy group in the hall.

Valerie leaned against the wall with one shoulder and watched in amusement as Smokey dramatically began his tale. She was glad to see him and Tab, who was at that moment shaking his head in embarrassment, both looking well rested and healthy.

She was so wrapped up with Smokey and his theatrics that she didn't hear the newcomer stepping into the hall and coming to stand beside her.

"What's going on here?" Dick murmured, causing Valerie to startle. Her heart thudded strangely in her chest when she turned to face him and realised just how close he was to her.

"Sorry," he chuckled, smiling sheepishly at her, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't don't worry," she laughed, shaking her head, "I was just so wrapped up in listening to Smokey the showman." Dick gave her another small smile, but she could see that it didn't reach his eyes. His brow was furrowed and his jaw tight, and she knew then that something wasn't right.

"What's the matter Dick?" She asked quietly, catching the attention of Lew and Harry also. Dick heaved in a sigh and looked down, his brow furrowing further.

"There's a jump scheduled" he whispered gravely, and Valerie knew she wasn't the only one who felt the temperature drop around them at that statement. They all knew it would come eventually, they'd just hoped eventually was a little further down the line.

Valerie shared a worried look with Lew and Harry, the three of them having a silent conversation as Dick made his way over to Lip and told him the news. Dick came back to stand beside her again as Lip called the attention of the gathered crowd. The happiness and mirth from just a few minutes before had suddenly been sapped out of the room, and a cold grey cloud had settled over them all. Valerie peered up at Dick, who to a casual observer would look like the epitome of calm strength. But she could see the worried tick in his jaw and the slight furrow of his brow. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"It'll be fine Dick," she muttered quietly, "We're the best damn company in the whole AEF."

Dick snorted and shook his head, but she was glad to see an amused little smile rising on his lips all the same.

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

"I can't believe I'm losing you Tab," Valerie sighed as she sat down in the seat across from him and nestled her cup of coffee in her cold hands.

"It's devastating I know," he teased, giving her a cheeky grin, "but alas my skills are needed elsewhere."

"You'll do great in first Tab, no doubt about it," she replied, and she meant every word of it too. Tab was an excellent sergeant and she'd miss having his help keeping her platoon in check, especially now she had some new faces.

"Don't worry Val, I won't forget about you and third, I promise," he teased, laughing as she kicked his shin under the table. She spotted Dick approaching them from over Tab's shoulder, and she straightened up slightly, giving him a small smile.

"Morning Valerie, Tab," he greeted, "Mind if I join you?"

Valerie shook her head and shuffled down the bench a little, giving him enough space to slot in beside her. He started talking to Tab, asking him all about his move to first platoon, but Valerie found she couldn't focus on the conversation. Dick's thigh was pressed ever so gently against hers, and his hand was resting so close to hers on the table that if she reached out with her little finger she'd be able to touch his. She felt a flush rising on her cheeks at the mere thought of it. Of course, Dick was an attractive man, no doubt about that, and Valerie wasn't too stubborn to admit it. But that didn't mean anything. Just because she thought he was handsome didn't mean she had some sort of interest in him. It was just an observation.

"Everything alright Valerie?" Dick asked, and she shook herself out of her reverie and refocused on the conversation at hand. tab was giving her a strange look, but she ignored it and instead turned to Dick.

"Of course," she assured, deciding to quickly steer the conversation away from herself, "So how many more drops you think Patton will ruin for us?"

"Who knows," Tab laughed, shaking his head, "Patton just wants all the glory for himself."

The running joke was that Patton was determined to keep the Airborne out of the picture so he could have all the fun. Every time they'd gotten ready for a jump in the last few weeks, it had been cancelled at the last minute because Patton and his Third Army had overrun the drop zone.

"Maybe we should thank him," she continued, taking a sip from her cooling coffee, "if anything he's just getting us one step closer to a drop on Hitler's doorstep."

"Suppose you're right," Tab laughed, before standing from the table and bidding them farewell. Dick and Valerie sat in comfortable silence for a time, both of them nursing their coffees. Dick was staring into his cup, thinking intently about something or another.

"I know you're always pretty serious," Valerie started casually, swirling the end of her coffee before downing it, "but if you stare any harder at that coffee it'll jump out and hit you. What's the matter?"

He huffed out a small laugh and shook his head in amusement. "Nothing ever passes you does it?" he laughed. He drained his coffee before turning to face her properly, his knee bumping against her leg. "There's chatter about our next drop," he explained, looking around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping, "And I probably shouldn't say anything about it but I trust you not to blab. They're talking about sending us to Holland."

"Shit really?" she replied, chewing on her bottom lip, "what do we know about it?"

"They think it's just old men and boys, that we won't face too much of a fight there," he sighed, glancing around the hall with worried eyes.

"Something tells me you don't agree with that," she observed, smirking when he shook his head, "Like you said, nothing passes me."

"I'd noticed," he said ruefully, before growing serious again, "I just think it's a bit risky is all. The Brits are supposedly leading this one and Nix doesn't seem to have much faith in them." Valerie watched him fiddle with the handle of his cup, the rarely seen nervous habit telling her that he was more worried than he was letting on.

She bumped her knee against his and gave him a half smile. "Ain't nothin' you or I can do about that. Just gotta do our best and hope it doesn't all go to shit."

"You always seem to know the right thing to say," he said softly as he stood from the table, his bright smile making her gut do an unexpected little flip, "Now c'mon, I've got a field exercise to run and I'd hate to have to give you latrine duty for being late."

"Careful Winters," she laughed, coming to stand beside him and bumping her shoulder against his affectionately, "people might start to think you're actually funny if you keep cracking jokes like that."

Dick snorted, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Don't worry," he replied, "I'm sure Nix will set them straight if they do. Now seriously we need to get to that exercise."

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

"You all set Shifty? Got everything you need"

"Yes Ma'am," he replied, giving her a thumbs up and a small grin, "got everythin' all packed and double checked." Valerie patted him on the shoulder before moving further down the runway, checking in with More and McClung before spotting a particularly disgruntled Heffron wrestling with his bag and muttering to himself.

"Everything alright Babe?" she asked, squatting down beside him and peering at his bag in amusement. He glanced sideways at her before quickly looking back down at the offending bag, a pink blush rising on his cheeks.

"Oh yes ma'am," he replied quickly, "just got a little extra weight in my bag and I can't goddamn close it up, 'scuse my language." Valerie huffed out a laugh and reached to take the buckles from him.

"You hold that part and I'll pull the buckles alright? I'm sure we can get the damn thing closed between us." Babe stared at her in surprise, but when she gave him an expectant look he rushed to do as she asked. It took a little bit of tugging, but eventually they managed to close the bag.

"A little word of advice Babe," she chuckled, placing a gentle hand on his arm and tampering down her amusement as his blush deepened, "next time the others take advantage of you and dump extra stuff on you, tell 'em fuck off, ya hear?"

Babe's eyes widened and his jaw dropped open, but after a second the corners of his mouth tilted up and his shoulders shook with laughter. "You know what Ma'am, that's some good advice."

Valerie left Babe with a parting pat on the shoulder before walking towards Lipton. As she was coming up to him a truck pulled up, and she laughed in delight when she saw who hopped off the back.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that Popeye Wynn, in the flesh?"

Popeye laughed as she approached him and clapped him on the back. "Had to get back to Easy for the drop, just can't believe that Sobel didn't report me for going AWOL."

"Well now that is a miracle Pop," Lip chuckled, throwing an arm around his shoulder, "now let's get you sorted out and ready to jump."

Valerie bid them farewell and walked back along the runway, double checking everyone was alright. She spotted Sobel talking to Malarkey but she barely spared him a second glance, unwilling to get into a sparring match with him right before a jump.

She spotted Dick with Lew and Harry, so she made her way over to them, giving them a small wave "Everything going to plan?" she asked, looking between the three of them intently.

"As well as can be expected given we're under command of the Brit's," Lew scoffed, rolling his eyes, "and don't give me that disapproving look Dick, you know as well as I do that they're far too arrogant about this Market Garden."

Dick shook his head, but deep down he knew his friend was right. In fact, they were all a little nervous about it, not that they'd let it on. They'd all much prefer to be under their own American command, but they had a job to do and complaining wasn't an option. Valerie looked around the airfield once again, and in that moment she could see the disparity between the replacements and the Normandy vets crystal clear; the replacements with their excited chatter and wide shining eyes, the vets more subdued, more experienced on what could be coming next. Valerie just hoped that they could keep the replacements moving when the shellshock of real action knocked them on their asses.

"It's time to start loading up," Dick said quietly, looking between Valerie and Harry, "you both have your sticks and know your plane numbers, you know the rallying points and the initial objectives. Stick to the plan and we'll see you on the other side.

"Don't worry Dick, Holland won't know what hit it," Harry grinned, sauntering off with a lazy salute. Valerie shook her head fondly and watched him go before turning back to the two captains.

"He's an idiot, but he's right," she laughed, "we'll be fine." With that she turned to follow after Harry, but something made her pause and turn back. "You two look after yourselves too," she added, her eyes lingering on Dick's a little longer than strictly necessary, "We can't do this without you."

Taglist:  @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @howunexpectedlyso @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck @now-im-a-belieber @its1000cuts @50svibes @eugene-emt-roe @pennyllane @televisionboy @sparkyluz @ask-you-what-sir @parajumpboots @mads-weasley

[bluemoon1066]

2 truths, 1 lie

Tom Holland x reader

Summery: You’re bored but you also have to tell Tom something so you decide to play a game with Tom

Warning: bad writing, talk of pregnancy, and there might be a bad word idk

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“Babe, I’m bored” you walked out to see Tom lying on the couch watching some tv. He moved so you could sit with him. “Well what do you want to do darling?” “Let’s play a game” you said with a smile on your face tom let out a little chuckle “ok, what game did you have in mind” you thought for a minute “what about 2 truths, 1 lie” he smiled “ok, you go first” he as he lied down on the couch “ok,” you paused for a minute thinking of what to say “when I was little I did ballet, I love you” Tom laughed well I hope that one’s true” you smiled at him “and….. I’m pregnant” at this Tom shot up looking at you “what?!” you laughed at him “which one’s the lie” “You-you’re not pregnant” you shook your head “I never did ballet when I was younger” Tom stood up grabbing your hands “baby, baby, baby, baby, are you telling me that you’re pregnant, like this isn’t a joke is it” your smile grew on your face “I’m being 100 percent honest” “Oh my God, we’re going to be parents!” “Yeah” “That’s scary, but amazing, and I’m so happy, I love you so much” tears were starting to form his eyes as he grabbed you face to pull you for a kiss

----------------------------------------------------------------

*3 months latter* You and Tom were currently doing press for the movie you two were in. The only people who knew of baby Holland were you, Tom, and really really close family. You didn’t want to let the secret out just yet. You both were getting ready to go on the late night show, you had something on that would hide your small bump. Tom’s hands where one your stomach as you talked before you heard a knock on the door “5 minute warning”

“Please welcome our next guests Tom and (y/n) Holland” you walked out with Tom, his hand around your waist as you both walked over to Jimmy shaking his hand as you sat down on the couch. “So (y/n), Tom, how was working on set together for the first time as a married couple?” you smiled at Jimmy “It was fun, tho there were a few times I needed some space,” Tom faked a gasp “what!?” everyone laughed “I love you honey I really do but you can drive me nuts sometimes” you said with a laugh *latter* “So there have been some rumors going around about a pregnancy,” you gave Tom a side glance you both planned to say something about it during this interview “is this rumor true” “No, I mean do I look pregnant” you said standing up, and cupping your hands around you bump so everyone could see it. Tom put a hand on your stomach as the audience was cheering, smiles on both of your faces. 

[firstdegreefangirl]

If you are open to Ted Lasso requests, then Roy Kent/Keeley Jones + sickfic and snuggles?

Oh, nonnie, this got WAY out of hand. But I had SO MUCH FUN writing it, so thank you! There's a lot going on at the beginning here, but I swear there are sickfic and snuggles under the break. I hope you like it!

Read the whole thing in one click HERE on ao3!

The morning gets off to a late start, right out of the gate. The team bus leaves late when they lose Nate again (this year they knew to check the luggage hold, but no one thought to look in the upstairs bathroom, where he was “looking for a little extra privacy, sorry”) and there’s more traffic than anyone could have predicted.

Altogether, it means that the team hardly makes it to Sheffield with time to drop their bags at the hotel before they’re due at the stadium for the game.

Roy tosses a duffel bag onto one of the double beds in the room he’s sharing with Ted tonight (not by choice; it turns out relegation means there’s not enough money in the team budget for all four coaches to have separate suites. Last away game, he and Nate had been roommates, but Ted has some big idea about everyone spending equal amounts of time together in the name of ‘equitable morale,’ and apparently coaching staff isn’t exempt.)

Really, he should have taken the job with SkySports.

At least then, he wouldn’t be pulling a furry green unicorn out of his bag and sitting it carefully by the pillows.

“Security object, Roy?” Ted points from across the room as Roy reaches for his phone. “Respect. No shame in a man seeking a little comfort from-”

“Fuck off,” he snaps, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Phoebe’s mad her mum wouldn’t let her come on a sleepover with the team this weekend. Asked me to bring Captain McKibbin along instead, the little idiot. I … promised to send pictures. As proof.”

“Hey, I get it. My boy’s done many a Flat Stanley in his day.” Clearly, Ted expects him to know what this means, so Roy nods if only to save himself the explanation. “Anyway, we’ve got to meet the fellas in the lobby, head over to the field – pitch.” A full year in, and Ted still struggles with the vernacular sometimes. It’d drive Roy nuts, if the guy hadn’t done so much to help him and his career. “Is, ah, will Captain McCarlson be joining us for the-”

“McKibbin. Captain McKibbin, and he will not. Phoebe says he can stay here, to ward off any bad dream monsters.”

“Well you be sure to let her know that I intend to sleep snug as a bug in a rug tonight. No, two rugs!” Tim points at Roy with both hands, then spins around and opens the door to the hallway.

He still hasn’t gotten a chance to catch up with Keeley before the match starts. She and Rebecca had driven out separately – something about girl talk and lattes – but he knows she’s around somewhere. The owner’s box is a little different everywhere they go, but never too terribly hard to find, and he catches a glimpse of her bright pink peacoat when he looks around during the opening lineup. She's sitting between Rebecca and Higgins, and as soon as she notices him watching, she waves happily. He lifts a hand in response, then tucks it back against his chest, turning back to the pitch and squaring his shoulders as the first half begins.

Richmond is playing well; Isaac has stepped up and really filled Roy’s shoes as captain, and all the lads are on the same wavelength, without having to say much of anything to one another. He hates to admit it, but Roy wonders if the seamless communication doesn’t have something to do with the scavenger hunt they’d hosted in the locker room last night. Ted had blindfolded half of the players, and made the other half sit on the bench and shout directions. The whole thing had been a mess, but then they’d passed around the bottle of vodka he’d stashed behind the clean boots as a prize, and everyone had left smiling. If that’s it, Roy can’t deny the results, but he’ll damn sure try.

That’s what he’s thinking about a few minutes later when he turns around again, looking for Keeley in the stands. He’s always looking for her, when he doesn’t have to be watching every second of the match. She’s almost always watching him right back, before he’s even looking at her. And half the time, he’ll feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. Even if he can’t check it until halftime, he knows it’s a comment on the quality of the plays, or the other team’s kits, or how much she likes the view of his ass from the box.

But now, when he looks, he can’t find her anywhere. He looks again, trying to pick her out in the sea of Richmond jerseys. Most of the faces are strangers, but he can distinguish between them. All the way at the top, where Keeley had been sitting before, it’s just Rebecca and Higgins now, an empty seat folded up between them.

Roy stares for a moment, waiting for her to reappear with a soft pretzel or something. But she doesn’t. Eventually, Rebecca catches his eyeline, and shakes her head. Her lips move, but there’s no way Roy can make out the words. All he knows is that Keeley has disappeared, and judging from Rebecca’s gesture, she’s been gone for more than a few minutes.

Something isn’t right; he can feel it in his stomach. And in his knee, but that’s more from the impending winter. The feeling about Keeley, that sits deep in his gut, twisting and knotting around his organs as he turns back to the pitch.

The lads are lining up the next play, but Ted, Nate and Beard are spread out along the sideline. Roy sidesteps around Beard, almost trips over Nate when he moves back just as Roy passes behind him, and finally comes to a stop next to Ted.

"Coach?”

“What’s up, Roy?” Ted doesn’t turn toward him, but he leans in Roy’s direction, and he knows he’s got the man’s full attention.

He hears the announcer take notice of his new position, the commentary echoing around them.

On Richmond’s side of the field, former team member turned coach Roy Kent is vying for the attention of head coach Ted Lasso. The players are lined up; what could he be saying?

But Roy doesn’t say anything. He just points, arms still folded across his chest, until Ted looks up to the stands behind them.

Both coaches now, looking up at the audience. Surely they’re not surprised at the show of support for the Richmond Greyhounds? They’ve sold out almost every game since their relegation …

The rest of the announcement fades to the background when understanding spreads across Ted’s face. Roy knows he’s seen the empty seat, knows he’ll understand the concern Roy can’t put into words. He raises an eyebrow when Tim looks back to his face, and the other coach nods.

“Just be in the locker room for halftime, yeah? The guys are countin’ on you for a speech to hype them up for the rest of the game.”

Roy jerks his chin up and down, then heads for the tunnel that’ll take him out of view of the crowds. The announcer’s voice comes behind him again.

Coach Kent, now heading off of the pitch. Makes you wonder what’s going on for the Greyhounds. Have they sent a coach away in the middle of a match, or did he ask to be excused? And why? But gameplay continues without him …

It’s only a few steps before he’s in the locker room, trying to shake off the memory of the last time he’d left the pitch before a match was up. It’s empty, no signs of another occupant, but the solitude gives him an opportunity to fish his phone out of his pocket.

No texts, no missed calls. Right away, he dials Keeley’s number.

If you’re looking for the PR Manager for the Richmond Greyhounds, leave a message for Keeley Jones after the beep. If you’re trying to reach your best friend Keeley for a round of drinks, hang up and text me. Oh, and Rebecca? If it’s too long to text, I’ll check my emails soon. Kisses!

“Oi, it’s me,” Roy all but grunts into the speaker when Keeley’s voicemail recording is done. “You’re not in your seat. Not that you have to be, but Rebecca hadn’t seen you, and I didn’t …” he trails off, suddenly afraid of sounding clingy and controlling. “Anyway, call me when you get this.”

He stares at his home screen after he hangs up, a selfie Keeley had nabbed his phone to take. He’s got an arm wrapped around her shoulders and his lips pressed against her temple, and her face is scrunched up in laughter. It’s ridiculous, the first time anyone but a blood relative has ever been his background, but he can’t help smiling at it, even as the worry knots itself tighter in his stomach.

When he can’t stand it any longer, he texts Rebecca.

You seen her?

Her reply is almost instant.

Not since she left. I have her coat, phone is in the pocket. Heard it ring.

Well, shit. She doesn’t have her phone, and as far as Roy knows, nobody has any idea where his girlfriend is.

But then there’s a sniffle from inside one of the toilet stalls. He’d know that sound anywhere; it’s the same noise Keeley makes every time they watch a Disney film together, right before he teases her for crying and she pokes fun right back at how he’s not.

He’d peered under the doors when he walked in, checking for feet, but he knocks on the stall anyway.

“Keeley?” He calls, pushing the door open slowly. Sure enough, she’s inside, sitting with her feet tucked up onto the seat, head wedged between her knees and hands clamped tightly around the back of her skull. “Babe, what’s going on?”

“It’s so … it’s so loud out there,” she whispers, but doesn’t look up. “All the yelling and shouting and cheering. It’s a good thing, I know, that the fans are engaged, but it was just pounding on my brain, making my eyes go all spotty. I tried to stick it out, Roy, really; I know how much these games mean to you, to the whole team. But then I felt like I was going to vomit and-” Keeley chokes on a sob. “I couldn’t find anywhere else quiet to go.”

“Right, well come on,” Roy reaches out slowly and squeezes one of her shoulders. “There’s got to be somewhere better to sit than a men’s toilet stall. You’ve met the lads, they’re disgusting.”

Keeley chuckles, thick and teary, but drops her knees and lets Roy pull her to her feet. As soon as she’s standing, she wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest. It can’t be too comfortable; he hasn’t taken off the Richmond windbreaker he wears for every game, but Keeley relaxes when Roy doesn’t push her away. Instead, he locks his arms around her shoulders and walks them both slowly back until he can drop onto one of the benches. Keeley stays leaned against him, but brings one hand up to cover her eyes where the harsh lighting seeps in.

“Alright, now, what is it?” Roy asks, when Keeley hasn’t said anything for a while. “You seemed alright when we left this morning.”

“I was. Or, I thought I was anyway. Just a little tired, maybe, but that was all. It was fine until the car ride, but then I got really queasy, and my head started throbbing.” Roy reaches up to scratch his fingers gently through her hair and she sighs. “It got a little better when we got out of the car, but then it was just so-”

“Loud, I know,” he finishes for her, then they both fall silent.

Exhaustion. Nausea. Headache. His sister had those symptoms once, just shy of eight years ago.

Shit.

“Keel. You don’t think you’re … You – we – couldn’t be … you aren’t …"

“What?”

“Um, pregnant? I know we’re careful, but …" Keeley cuts him off with a laugh that turns into a whimper, and he tightens his hold on her.

“No. Definitely not. Not this week, for sure. Just a migraine, I think. Used to get them sometimes, but it’s been a bit.”

“Good,” Roy sighs. “I mean, someday, maybe, but not …”

“Not yet,” Keeley agrees, and something goes warm in his chest, knowing that they’re on the same page. Right now, they don’t need to worry about anything except getting Keeley back in fighting shape.

“Have you taken anything?” She nods against his chest.

“This morning, um, in the car. It didn’t help much. Just need it dark. And quiet.”

“OK, that’s alright,” Roy whispers, dropping his voice even quieter. “It should be almost half, what say we find somewhere else for you to hole up before everyone comes barging in like heathens?”

He’s not sure exactly where they can go, but he knows he’s got to get Keeley out of the locker room before they clear the players off the pitch. She shrugs half-heartedly, and lets Roy pull her back to her feet. He doesn’t have a plan yet, but he starts walking them slowly toward the door as he looks around. There are no offices in here, no treatment rooms or storage closets.

He hasn’t checked the time since he found Keeley, but he’s played enough years of football that his body’s internal clock can feel the seconds ticking away. There’s maybe two or three minutes left, and Ted wants him to give the halftime pep talk. If he asked, if he explained everything, he could probably get out of it, maybe trade Beard for next week or something. Keeley needs him.

But the team needs him too.

All at once, it hits him.

Rebecca.

Rebecca doesn’t have a role in the halftime routine. There’s nothing happening on the field and she almost never comes to the locker room before the match ends. And she’s got a car here; that’s somewhere quiet Keeley can sit, at least until the second half gets underway.

He wiggles his phone out of his pocket again and reopens the text thread.

Found her in locker room. Migraine. Can you meet us and take her outside for halftime? Ted wants me to give speech.

Rebecca doesn’t reply, but a minute or so later, Roy hears the steady click-clack of her heels coming down the hall. Keeley whimpers, and he presses a kiss to her hair as the door swings open.

“Hey,” he says, shifting around to look at Rebecca.

“Hello,” she whispers back.

“Hey, Keeley, Rebecca’s here now,” Roy tips his face back down to whisper against the shell of her ear. “Think you can make it outside with her?”

“We can head back to the hotel, Keeley, if you think that’d help? It’s only a few minutes’ drive.”

“Yeah, ‘s quieter there,” she says, but doesn’t move.

“And I’ll meet you there just as soon as the match is done, hmm?” He runs his fingers up and down her arm, shifting away slightly. “Here, want to take my sunglasses, block out some of the light?”

At that, Keeley squeezes her eyes shut and turns her face up toward Roy. He chuckles and slides his glasses over her eyes, then brushes a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Alright then, off you go,” He lets Rebecca take her by the arm and lead her back out of the locker room, trying to ignore the way his heart clenches at the sight of her trudging away, hunched over against her own discomfort.

He’ll be back with her soon enough. But the door has no more than swung shut behind them when it bounces open again. Jamie and Sam are leading the pack, the whole team piling in around him.

As usual, their energy is infectious, and Roy finds himself slapping hands and patting backs as he makes his way across the room to where Ted is bringing up the rear.

“Hey, Roy, you get everything all squared away?”

“For now. Rebecca’s taking Keeley back to the hotel; she’s not feeling well.” He should have known better than to hope that Ted Lasso would ever let anything drop with a simple explanation.

“Well that’d explain the text message I got from Boss Lady asking if she’d be alright rooming with me tonight.” Roy’s eyebrows go up at that. “And I’m guessin’ from the look on your face that she didn’t mention anything about that to you? Aw, geez, I hope I didn’t spoil a surprise or anything. But the cat’s out of the metaphorical bag now, isn’t it? So I might as well tell you that I told her that I was a-OK with switching up the room arrangements if that’s what’s best for everyone tonight. Thataways you can keep an eye on Keeley, and down the hall we can have Biscuits with the Boss: Evening Edition. How’s that sit with you?”

“Honestly, Ted, I have no opinion on what time of day you eat biscuits,” Roy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But thanks. I think. For making sure I can be there for Keeley.”

“We’re all on the same team here, right? What’s good for the goose and all that, we’re at our best when everyone is at their own, individual best. Hey, speaking of, there are some guys in here, waiting for someone to put a little extra pep in their step for the back end of this game. If you’re not up for it, I can see what Coach Beard has up his sleeve, or-”

“No, it’s fine,” Roy cuts him off before the rambling can reach full speed again. “I’ve got this one.”

He turns back to the group, and yells for everyone to listen up. When he’s got their attention, he takes a deep breath.

“What you’re doing on the pitch today, it’s fucking amazing,” he starts. “Not the score, though that’s pretty alright too. But that doesn’t matter half as much as how you’re playing. Hell, you assholes keep communicating this well, you’re going to put us coaches out of a job. I know Ted’s all about the rhymes and anecdotes and shit, but that’s not … I’m not a walking greeting card store,” everyone chuckles, Ted included. “But get back out there, keep working together, and dammit, make the four of us redundant!”

There’s a round of half-sarcastic applause, then Ted steps forward.

“Alright, y’all heard the man. Don’t get tired, get us fire—well, actually, don’t get us fired. That’s not … take the sentiment of what Roy said, but do me a favor and don’t take him literally. I like working with y’all. Anyway, Coach Beard’s gonna take it from here, walk y’all through a couple plays for the second half.”

The players cluster around Beard and his whiteboard diagram, and Ted finds his way back over to Roy at the back of the group.

“You know, if you need to head out a little early today, we can pull through without you. Sometimes a team is strongest when it’s split up to work on all the different things it needs to get done. Like taking care of each other.”

Any other day, he likes to think he’d insist on staying for the rest of the match. But if he’s honest with himself, he knows that he’ll put Keeley first anytime she needs him to.

“That’d be great, Ted. Thanks.”

“Hey, no problem, Roy. I’ll come check up on y’all when we get back?” Roy nods and shakes Ted’s hand quickly, then slips out of the locker room while Beard is saying something about the Sheffield players having “lots of power, like a high-watt light bulb.”

He doesn’t have a car, doesn’t feel like waiting on an Uber, so it’s a half-hour's walk back to the hotel. When he gets there, Rebecca is already waiting for him in the lobby.

“Ted gave me your room number,” she starts, as soon as they’ve said their hellos. “Keeley’s up there lying down. I, uh, I assumed yours was the bed with the unicorn on it?”

“It’s Phoebe’s,” he groans. “But yes.”

“I’m sure.” But she’s smirking like she might not be. “Anyway, Ted’s things are already taken care of, and I think I got everything of Keeley’s into your room, but she unpacked her entire suitcase first thing, so I might’ve missed some shoes or something.”

“No problem. She’ll get them back, I’m sure. Thanks for taking care of her.”

“Anytime, Roy. Really. I’m just down the hall, if either of you need anything.”

Roy nods his thanks and steps into the elevator.

He swipes his key card to unlock the door, then turns the handle and pushes it open slowly. The lights are turned off, and the curtains drawn, so he makes his way carefully, trying to remember if these rooms have any wayward furniture for him to stumble over.

Thankfully, the walkway is clear. He sits gently on the edge of his bed, smiling when the Keeley-shaped lump of covers shifts closer to him.

“Hey, babe,” she mutters.

“Hi,” Roy presses his lips together and pats what he thinks is probably her knee through the blankets. “Feeling better?”

“A little. Rebecca gave me water. And it’s quiet here.”

“Yeah, it is.” He’s not sure what else to say, but Keeley saves him from having to carry on the conversation.

“There’s a unicorn on your bed. ‘S soft.”

“His name is Captain McKibbin,” Roy replies, rolling his eyes even though he knows she can’t see from here. “I’ll tell Phoebe you like him.”

“Please do.”

“Anything else you need?”

“Just you,” she says, and it’s so quietly honest that if Roy weren’t already pretty sure he’s in love with her, it would have sealed the deal. He toes his shoes off and shimmies out of his windbreaker and trousers.

“Alright, well shove over then,” he teases, nudging her shoulder until there’s room for him to lie down beside her. When he pulls the covers back, he recognizes the hoodie she’s wearing as the one he’d crammed into the top of his bag when he packed last night. It’s three sizes too big, and she’s got one of her own just like it, but she looks far better in Roy’s than he ever will.

As soon as he’s lying down, Keeley is turning over and fitting herself against his side, tucking her face back into his bare chest. It’s still early in the evening, and Roy knows that if he falls asleep now, he’ll spend all week regretting it. But Keeley needs the rest, and there’s not much he can do without turning on the TV or lighting up his phone screen.

Besides, one afternoon nap never killed anyone, right?

So he closes his eyes and listens to her steady breathing. When Keeley wakes up, hopefully the worst of the migraine will have passed, and she’ll feel more like herself again. Roy knows they’ve got a pass on team bonding tonight, if they need it, and he doesn’t want to push Keeley into anything she’s not up for. But rumor has it that Beard found a pub with a bowling alley in it, and that’s bound to be entertaining, no matter the scores at the end of the night.

For right now, though, the only thing that matters is Keeley, curled up against him and warmer than all the blankets stacked on top of them. She’s asleep, and he’s following close behind, and nothing matters beyond the comfort they share.

Not migraines, or bowling, or trick plays, or shoes that might have been left down the hall, or anything but Roy and Keeley and this moment together, in the dark and the quiet.

Just them.