#okay it's not a big deal they're just movies and you don't even have to watch them.

[lizardsfromspace]

Okay, this is the conclusion to my posts about Sophia Stewart. I'll never do something like this again

Everything I've posted is from her own book or her web presence btw. That's all I'm drawing from and if anyone tells me any information about her they gained any other way I'll block them immediately so uh, don't

Towards the end she reveals some of her other pitches. By showing she copywrote sequels to the Matrix and Terminator

Lots of strange details here - she wrote The Matrix 4 in 2000? They didn't even start filming The Matrix 2 & 3 until 2001. Also, we can see in this book that her pitch has nothing to do with The Matrix or Terminator, but she claims she wrote direct sequels to both?

(Her explanation for how both very different films are ripping off her work - a 1:1 copy, she claims - is, hilariously, that The Terminator plagiarizes it front to back, while The Matrix plagiarizes it back to front. What?)

But also she didn't write it. She registered copyright on a synopsis for The Matrix 4. She has concepts of a plan for a Matrix 4.

The book ends with a pitch for another...she calls it a book, but it's a movie pitch? And this, too, is just a synopsis for some grand epic series, light on detail of character and plot and heavy with lore and rants (in this case, primarily about God and Adam & Eve). Of course her exhaustively long but barely sketched-out epic movie pitch has a prologue, which is also full of Christian-tinged Ancient Aliens pyramid power woo.

Sophia Stewart is unimportant, bc she represents a class of writer. Writers who have Ideas. Who have outlines and plot points but no real story, bc they never write it. But they think just having Really Good Ideas is enough - that you should get credit for coming up with a good idea for a story, regardless of if you make an actual story out of it. They're a "writer", but they never write. Despite this they often have a deep case of Dunning-Kruger, churning out outlines that leave out basic details like "what happens in the climactic battle" and the personalities of characters while insisting that an inability to author anything shouldn't keep you from being praised as a genius author

If that type of person is lucky enough to have money, they become a studio executive or tech guy, both professions awash in the uncreatively creative, or they hire ghostwriters. If they're not, they become the type of person to file spurious lawsuits under the misapprehension they own basic plot concepts. It's the "I coulda made the majors!" of writing, except, you know. Baseball players who didn't make the majors still actually played baseball at some point. I assume from now on all those types will just pump their outline into ChatGPT and try to sell the gunk it slops out and then claim they 'wrote' it so uh, uhhhhhhhhhhhh

The only reason I made these posts was discovering the conspiratorial angle to her work, bc who cares if a major studio has to deal with a spurious lawsuit? That was the part that actually sucks. But also, she does a lot of press: profiles on news websites, podcasts, that documentary was even made by other filmmakers, who actually make films. It's persisted from blogs and chain emails all the way to podcasts and TikToks. All of this uncritically spreads her story, but I also have to ask: how many actual African-American science fiction writers do those platforms profile? How many of them get documentaries made about their work? How much air is being sucked out of the room by the decades long misinformation about the "true" creator of The Matrix? And why is that misinformation so persistent when it takes a trivial amount of effort to find out it just isn't true? It feels good to support the underdog against the big studio, but in this case it just isn't true.

The sad truth is a lot more Hollywood plagiarism cases look like this than are real exposures of wrongdoing, but people tend to accept them at face value since they feel like a little guy taking on a corporation, though in reality it's just two writers suing each other. Take The Holdovers case, where people immediately turned on it, but if you look into it, the two scripts have very little in common, and the accusing writer makes odd claims like a human character in The Holdovers being a ripoff of a billboard in his script.

Or look at Groundhog Day, which was accused of plagiarism by Richard A. Lupoff, writer of the story "12:01 P.M.". The two stories have nothing in common besides a time loop; in Groundhog Day he's reliving a day, in 12:01 PM he's reliving an hour. Groundhog Day is a romcom, 12:01 P.M. plays it for horror. Groundhog Day never reveals the source of its lop but it's clearly fantastical in nature, 12:01 P.M. is explicitly science fiction. In Groundhog Day he escapes the loop, in 12:01 P.M. he never does. You can't deny Lupoff felt personally slighted, but at the end of the day, a world where a writer could own the concept of time loops would be a dystopia where creativity and art would die.

But even though they were wrong, The Holdovers & Groundhog Day cases were based on real works of writing that existed. They were based on a real, if misguided, sense of violation from the writers. But in this case, we have a mere outline of a story with not even basic similarities to the stories she's claiming are a 1:1 copy of her work, and decades of media appearances based on exploiting a community college media student's mistake in 2004. Anyway seems bad

[commsroom]

Your Minkowski Hallmark Christmas movies post made me consider: we know Eiffel hates Christmas, and Minkowski loves it - what is Hera's stance? My guess would be slightly bemused by it, probably disliking some elements while enjoying others, but I'm curious as to your take

that's pretty much what i think! there's a part in one of the AMAs where they're talking about the characters' ideal valentine's days, and gabriel says that hera cared more about it being eiffel's birthday than it being christmas, and that's kind of my. general philosophy about hera and holidays. she has no personal or cultural connection, so i think... if she cares about any holiday, it's going to be because the people in her life care about it and invite her to share it with them.

i think she might find it interesting for just how pervasive it is in american culture, especially the position it holds as like... a clearly religious holiday that insists it's not. i think she could probably appreciate the decorations, exchanging of gifts, etc. to some degree, but would find the media too saccharine in the wrong ways.

(@collectoroflovelythings said exposing hera to hallmark movies would give her some mixed messages about the "meaning of christmas", like, it was a religious holiday and now it's just about businesswomen learning to love...? and i thought that was funny.)

but also, the other angle of 'hera cares more about eiffel's birthday than about christmas' + 'hera would care about holidays because the people in her life care about them' is that i think she'd be willing to play into eiffel's hatred of christmas, even if she has no particularly strong feelings of her own, just because it makes him feel better to have someone on his side.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Bonus Drabble 5

Summary: Fracturing your ankle was the last thing you wanted to do this weekend but I guess it's not that bad when you have your handsome husband to be your caretaker. Slice of life drabble from the future 🤭 Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 2.9k (damn it's been a while since I put one of these out haha) Warning: Some suggestive language if you squint really hard lmao, oc is a pouty baby because she's in pain lol a/n: Barely edited per usual Requested by: 🧜‍♀️ anon 🥰 Start from the beginning

"How are you feeling?" Jungkook asks me once we're both in the car. "Humiliated" I say, hissing when I try to readjust my leg. "People fall all the time when they're hiking darling it's not that big of a deal" he tries reassuring me but it only makes me feel worse.

"But it didn't even happen on a rocky part or anything. We were literally walking on flat ground" I groan, my embarrassment increasing after running through what happened in my head again, remembering how many people were staring at us. 

"Honey it's okay" he chuckles, leaning over to help me with my seatbelt before he puts his on. "I basically tripped on air" I groan, not giving up on how mortified I am, the pain making everything seem so much worse. 

"Hey" he says, cupping my face and making me look at him while he rubs the space between my eyebrows in an effort to smooth out the scowl I'm making, "It's not the end of the world, I promise. It might've been a little embarrassing but it happens to the best of us" he says and my scowl turns into a pout, calming down a little but still upset with myself.

"Did you really have to carry me like that?" I cringe at the thought of how ridiculous we probably looked. "Like what?" he furrows his brows, "Like you were carrying me over the threshold after our wedding" I say, covering my face as if it would help get rid of how shy I felt on top of the humiliation.

He chuckles as his only response leaving me slumping back in my chair, not wanting to snap at him just because of the pain I'm in.

"You sure it's only a sprain?" he asks and I hum, "I've had one before and it felt just like this so I'm sure I'll be fine once we get home and I can ice it" I say and he nods his head.

"Then let's get you home" he agrees and pulls out of the parking lot.

~~~~~

"Are you sure you don't wanna go to the hospital? I can schedule an appointment instead so we don't have to go to the ER if that's what you're worried about" he asks me for the fifth time tonight but I think I've gotta give in since I don't remember my ankle ever swelling up like this.

"Okay" I mumble and he walks up to where I'm sitting on the couch and kisses my forehead. "That's my girl" he praises, handing me the snacks he's prepared for our movie night before plopping down right next to me.

He rests his arm around the back of the couch so I can lean into him while he starts up the movie we chose but as the night goes by the pain gets worse and I have to remind him about making the appointment before we go upstairs to go to bed.

"I don't mind taking you to the ER if it's getting that bad" he says, looking at me with a pained expression, hating that I'm hurting. "I think I'll be alright for the night, can you just help me get upstairs?" I ask and he smirks remembering my earlier complaints.

"Does my bride need me to carry her to bed?" he taunts and I give in, agreeing with him and he gives me a soft smile and a kiss on my temple as a response.

"You ready for bed?" he asks and I nod my head, taking another look at my ankle and growing wary about what could've happened. He turns off the TV and stands up, scooping me into his arms, careful not to move too fast but I still hiss when my foot droops a bit and I notice that the pain killers have worn off.

My hiss turns into a whimper and right after I can feel tears start to well up in my eyes and I can't control it anymore, the pain hitting me in waves as he gets closer to the stairs but turns to walk towards the guest bedroom instead.

"I'm not taking you upstairs if you're crying from walking on flat ground. I really wish you would let me take you in already" he says, placing another kiss on my temple before he lays me down on the bed and quickly grabs some pillows to prop it up adjusting it for me until he sees i'm comfortable.

"No I can w-wait until morning" I say, choking back the tears now that it's supported again. "You sure?" he asks and I nod my head one last time and he decides to respect my wishes.

"Okay well your appointment is at eight AM so you'll have to wait until then to be seen. I'll call them when I wake up to see if they have any cancellations so we can get in earlier" he says and I give him a sad smile while when he wipes off my tear stained cheeks.

"I love you" I mumble and he chuckles, "I love you too baby. You know I'm always gonna take care of you. In sickness and in health remember" he says and I chuckle for a second or two.

"There's that smile I love" he says, cupping my face before leaning down and placing a kiss on my lips. "Can you get me some more pain killers please?" I mumble after he breaks the kiss. He hums in agreement, "Sure baby" he says and places one last kiss on my lips before he goes to get them.

He comes back with a glass of water and another snack making me smile. "I'm gonna go grab your phone charger for you too and this is just in case you get hungry in the middle of the night" he teases. "But aren't you gonna sleep in here too?" I ask, worried that he might leave me alone. 

"I can't honey, I might move around too much and bump into your ankle. I don't want to hurt you" he says and I understand but I hate sleeping alone. "Okay" I say and pull the blanket over my head so he won't see how upset I am about all this. He knows though, he always knows. 

"Bunny please don't cry" he say softly, kneeling down next to the bed once he hears the first sniffle. I had just been crying after being moved in here so the news of him not sleeping here with me was easy for me to get upset about. "I don't wanna sleep alone" I say under the blanket and he sighs, pulling it down so he can talk to me properly. 

"I don't like sleeping alone either Bun but I can stay with you until you fall asleep if you want" he offers and I dry my tears and nod, satisfied with the compromise. I just don't like being alone when I'm hurting like this. I know we could just head to the hospital right now and then we can be together but I know both of us deserve some rest before going since I don't know how long we would be there at this hour. 

He picks up the arm chair from the corner of the room and sets it right next to the bed. "You don't wanna just come a lay down?" I ask and he chuckles. "Oh I definitely want to but it would defeat the whole purpose. Just close your eyes and try to get some sleep okay?" he responds and I nod, doing as he says and soon I find myself drifting off.

~~~ 

When the alarm goes off for us to wake up I groan and reach for my phone to try and turn it off but instead of grabbing my phone I end up grabbing a shoulder, opening my eyes and finding Jungkook laying his head on my lap and an arm draped over my thighs while he's fast asleep. 

I smile and finally reach my phone on the night stand and turn off the alarm. I lay there for a minute, admiring his sleeping face with his lips slightly parted letting out soft snores and I brush his hair out of his face so I can see him better, stirring him awake a little. 

"Did you sleep in here all night?" I ask softly and he hums in contentment from the feeling of me playing with his hair before he responds. "I didn't want to leave you alone" he mumbles and my heart warms at that. "Thank you honey" I say, brushing my thumb along the scar on his cheek and he gives me a sleepy smile. 

"We need to get ready to go" I remind him and he nods and takes a deep breath before sitting up slowly and cracking his back. "You should've gone up to bed Daddy" I tease and he narrows his eyes at me. "You better stop that before you start" he lets out in his deep morning voice and as much as I want to push it we really do have to get going. 

~~~~

"If you took one last bad step you could've completely broken it" the doctor says, bringing the x-rays in so we can take a look and I wince seeing how deep the fracture had gone. "So what happens next?" Jungkook asks, letting me focus on the x-ray a bit more while he talks through the next steps with the doctor. 

"We need to set everything back in place and put a cast on her. It'll take anywhere from six to twelve weeks to heal and from the looks of it it'll probably be closer to twelve. "That's three months!" I say in disbelief, dreading the fact that I'll have to be off my feet for that long. 

"Yes but good news is the baby looks strong and healthy so you have nothing to worry about on that end" he says in regards to the ultrasound we had taken just to double and triple check on them especially after the x-ray. I landed on my ass so I wasn't too worried but it doesn't hurt to check. 

"Thank God" Jungkooks says, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "But no more hiking. You'll be around six months along if I'm not mistaken by the time your cast comes off and you'll have to take some time to restrengthen it afterwards" the doctor says and I nod my head in agreement. 

"Got it" I respond and I can see Jungkook deflate a little since it's one of his favorite things to do together but he understands how important my health and safety is as well as the baby's. 

"We can get you into surgery in the next twenty minutes or so so just hang tight and one of the nurses will come get you when we're ready" he says and we give him our thanks before he slips out, leaving us on our own. 

"You okay?" Jungkook asks and I smile, "Yeah, I'm just glad they're okay" I say, placing my hand over my little baby bump and he places his right on top of mine. "Me too" he agrees and leans down to place a gentle kiss on my lips and we wait patiently in the room until they're ready for me.  

~~~~~

After the surgery is done and dusted and he's managed to get me home he places me down on the couch, having carried me inside again even though I told him I was completely capable of using the crutches. He said, "No wife of mine will ever have to use those when I'm around" or something to that extent just to make me laugh, and it did.

"You take such good care of me" I say, blinking up at him slowly, still feeling a little out of it from the anesthesia since I knew I couldn't go through all of that if I was awake. "Just doing my job Bun" he says, leaning down to give me a kiss before going back outside to get my crutches out of the car, just in case I decide I want them. 

After coming back inside he grabs the footstool and sets it up to I can keep my leg elevated and puts plenty of pillows as well just like last time. "Doc said the pain meds would start waring off soon and that I should have you eat something before you take your next dose. Any requests?" he asks, walking over to the basket of blankets we have in the living room to drape one over me.

Everything he's done has just made me fall more and more in love with him and at this point I didn't even realize that that was even possible. Maybe I just had low standards from before but I don't know, maybe this is what true love looks like. It's not in the big gestures or the lavish gifts. It's the simple things like this that matter the most.  

"Bun?" he calls out to me and I realized I hadn't answered his question yet "Oh, um whatever you want is fine. You took me to my doctor's appointment and the pharmacy and everything so you can choose" I say and he nods, heading into the kitchen to start making us lunch and before I know it he's already grabbed a tray and placed it in front of me so I wouldn't have to go anywhere.

"Thank you honey" I say and he caresses my cheek before walking back to the kitchen to grab his food. When he's on his way back I hear the doorbell ring and look over at him, wordlessly questioning who might've come to stop by but he just smiles at me and opens the door, accepting some sort of food from a delivery driver which has me confused. 

"What's that?" I ask, the plain white bag a mystery to me until the scent of fries hits me and my mouth is watering. He sees my eyes light up when I figure it out and he chuckles, "And I got you your favorite" he says, handing me one of the two drinks he had brought in as well and I already know what it is. 

"Is that a mango milkshake?" I ask excitedly and he smiles while I take the lid off and take a sip, my milkshake mustache making him laugh. "That good huh?" he teases and I hum, "The baby was craving it" I say making excuses and he shakes his head but puts the fries on the plate next to the sandwich he made me. 

I take a fry and dip it in the milkshake and take a bite, and I can see him laughing again. "What?" I ask, not seeing what about this could be so funny. "You always dance around when you're eating your favorite food" he says and I roll my eyes. 

"Would you rather I dip a pickle in it like last time?" I cock a brow at him and he pretends to gag. "No please, not again" he shudders leaving me laughing at him instead. 

"I still can't believe you made me try that" he mumbles and I refute it right away. "You're the one who wanted to try it!". "Well you should've stopped me if you knew I wouldn't like it" he argues back and I giggle at his horrified expression. 

"How was I supposed to know that you wouldn't like it? They're called pregnancy craving for a reason Honey so you should've know better" I tease him and he grumbles something unintelligible under his breath. 

"Just don't eat it today alright? I don't want to have to taste it when I kiss you" he shudders. "Who said I wanted to kiss you?" I say playfully and he looks at me and then looks at my foot that's still propped up and huffs, slumping back into the couch. 

"What?" I laugh, not knowing what that reaction was for. "Just know that if you weren't wearing that cast right now you would've been thrown over my shoulder and dragged upstairs for that smart comment" he pouts and I laugh again, grabbing his arm and wrapping it around me, placing a kiss on his cheek for good mesasure.

"You know you love me" I say and he hums, "I do, and you better love me too or I'm taking back that milkshake" he says reaching for it and I smack his hand before he can get any closer. "I wouldn't be having your child if I wasn't in love with you dummy" I tease and he smiles and places a kiss on my cheek, making an aggressive smooching sound against it. 

"Stop" I whine trying to push him off and his only response is to hug me tighter and pepper me with more kisses. "Alright, alright I give up!" I call out, hoping that'll make him stop and luckily it works. He finishes off by planting one last kiss on my lips and nudging his nose against mine before standing up and walking back over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and the bottle with my pain meds. 

"Eat up so you can take your medicine, I don't want you to be in pain again" he says switching back to my handsome caretaker and I do as I'm told, eating my fill and taking the medication.

"Thank you Honey" I say, hoping to display my sincerity and he gives me a soft smile. "You're welcome baby" he answers, placing a kiss on the top of my head and the rest of our day goes by in a blur, laughing and teasing each other until the sun goes down. 

Like I said, it's the little things that matter to most and I guess it was just one of those days for us. 

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @coralmusicblaze @whoa-jo @00frenchfries00 @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater Rest of the tags are in the reblogs 💜

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[shelbgrey]

Okay, hello! I love your work so much and wanted to make a request (if they're open let me know if I've been too rude to you dear) for "being Isabella Swan's big/little sister and being Jasper Cullen's mate." BECAUSE, at first he tried to repress that feeling by acting weird around her, and she hated the way he wrinkled his nose every time he saw her. Another thing, she grew up in Forka with Charlie... That's it, I'm sorry if I threw this too hard in your lap 😔. Kisses 💗

Being Bella's big sister and dating Jasper Hale headcanons

Paring: Jasper Hale X Swan!Reader

A/n: thank you for the request and don't feel bad for requesting, I always love writing for Twilight.

Main master list Emmett cullen story

So first off, I think thst you being Bella's older sister and living with Charlie kinda changes the story a bit. First off there's something special about you, but you living with humans all your life none notices.

You were about two when your parents devorced so when it came to living situations you stayed with your father.

You met the Cullens before Bella even showed up. Like everyone else at Forks High to took notice to the family. You weren't upsets with figuring out their background like everyone else though.

Your first day meeting Jasper was his first day in your history class. The only empty seat left was next to you.

He hesitated as he sat down next you. When he did he tensed up and turned his nose away. You glared at him wanting to know what his problem was. When the bell rang he was out in a flash.

The next few days he didn't show up. When he did he remained silent but didn't turn his nose like you stunk.

Instead of turning his nose away he would silently look at you then turn away before he would get cought. This went on through out the class. You would look at him then look away before he noticed.

The first words you actually exchange words till you had to work on a history project together.

“your name is y/n Swan right?” he asked. You nodded immediately falling for his southern accent. “yeah, and your Jasper”

He smiled slightly. “sorry for being so rued last week” you shrugged. “not a big deal, we all have bad days”

You guys continued to talk and he quickly got comfortable talking to you. He started to fall for everything about you. He knew you were his mate but he started finding small and big details about you that made him enternally thankful it was you.

Jasper took another aproch than his dear brother when it came to relationships. He 'corted' you by becoming friends with you first, you actually became best friends. As your relationship grew you became close to his siblings too, especially rose.

Your first date was the movies and suprisenly you guys just sat there for two hours laughing at the gore in the horror movie you picked.

After your first date he confessed to being a vampire and to his reilef you didn't freak out. He was so scared that you would leave him but he didn't want to lie to you.

“I understand if your scared... But I didn't want to start our relationship with a lie”

I immediately wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tight. “I don't care, I still want to be with you”

You started officially dating about a month before Bella showed up.

You don't get along with Bella or your mother, so let's just say you weren't thrilled when you found out she was moving to forks.

During the time she started to settle in at home with you and Charlie you spent more time with Jasper and his family. You told Jasper that you two never got along and the hate and neglect your mother caused you.

The first time Bella saw Jasper is when he was picking you up for school. She kept pushing on who he was but you bairly awnsered. “he's my boyfriend, bella”

Dispite Bella and Edward dealing with their problems you and Jasper have a very strong relationship.

You two may not have much in common but that doesn't mean you two don't show interest in each other's Passions.

Your a movie nerd so he'll happily watch any movie with you. He's a history buff and he's was around for most of it so if he wants to talk about something you'll always there to listen.

Speaking of history, it didn't take long for him to open up about him training new borns and Maria using him.

He's very gentle with you at first, he would hate himself if he ever hurt you, but later on in the relationship he's more confident and isn't afraid to touch you as much.

Speaking of which, his kisses are always full of passion and love. His favorite place to kiss you is on your forehead beacuse of how much taller he is than you.

He's always holding your hand. He always needs to be touching you and needs to be close to you. Emmett teases him for being Clingy but it's mostly just an anxiety thing, especially if he's around Humans he needs to ground himself by holding your hand or his arms around you.

If your wondering, Charlie loves him. At first he thought Jasper was weird(much like Edward) but he appreciated how kind and and well mannered he was. He knew he could trust Jasper with you.

Through your relationship with Jasper you had also gained a best friend through Rosalie and Emmett.

Rosalie loved you immediately and took you under her wing. Alice is a loyal friend but your not thst close.

Carlisle and Esme are like your second parents and they love you like your part of the family.

During the events of New Moon Jasper refused to break your heart. He knew that was Edward's plan with Bella, but he's not Edward. Yes they did move but you two stayed in contact. He would call you every day and you'll see each other on weekends.

He came to your graduation during the time the whole family moved then proposed to you a few months later.

Your wedding was unfortunately put on hold due to the who new-born army. It didn't bother you, you understood under the circumstances but Jasper was furious with not only Bella but Edward too. It wasn't their fault, he knew that, but then again Bella made it all about her and ignored the fact the vampires were after you too.

During the battle you were hurt causing Jasper to turn you. He didn't want to and he blamed himself for fighting instead of protecting you.

You loved being a vampire and never once blamed him. And it's a good thing he had experience with New-borns beacuse he was with you every step of the way during your transition.

You had your wedding about four months before Edward and Bella's. You went to Memphis for your honeymoon and stayed out till it was time to go home for the other wedding.

Oh I forgot to mention, Bree survived and since you were now an adult you and Jasper adopted her as your own. Your amazing parents and you three make an adorable family.

Later on in life and when everything was peaceful, no one dying or fighting, you two adpot two twins. They were both infants and needed loving parents.

Jasper is very loving husband and even if being a vampire is hard sometimes you wouldn't change your life for anything.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Simon Flinches

Simon x gn!reader

Finally did it! And I looked at it so much that I hate it now, even went back in and changed some small words and stuff, but here you go. Take the flinching trope and make it Simon instead of reader flinching.

Warnings: panic attack, hurt/comfort, barely proofread because I'm too tired, reader being called "Sir" as a honorific not referring to the gender

Wordcount ~3k

You'd say you've gotten good at navigating the minefield that is Simon. You've been together a while by now and you've learned how to handle him so he feels safe and can be himself. It's been a long process that's far from over but you wouldn't have it any other way. Simon is worth all the time, all the effort. And if it means losing a limb in the process, crossing that minefield to get closer to him is worth it.

Simon would say he's gotten good at defusing the ticking bomb that he is. He's been with you for a bit now and he's learned how to trust you more, how to be vulnerable with you. His walls are lower than they’ve ever been and it has actually lead to good things.

But sometimes things don’t go as you want. No matter how hard you try, how carefully you try to navigate Simon. Sometimes just a tiny thing, a gesture, a word, makes everything explode, traps you in that minefield without knowing where to put your foot next, how to reach out to him without stepping onto another scar, tearing it open in a violent explosion.

Like now. It’s so goddamn stupid you could kick yourself. You've been arguing about whose turn it was to choose the movie. Something so insignificant, so trivial. But it's been a long day for both of you and what started as a joking argument has turned into an actual one and now you don't know how to stop it. Your voices are raised, you’re both shouting the frustrations of the day at each other. You hate arguing with Simon, just as he hates arguing with you.

You know it’s a normal part of any relationship, but with Simon it scares you. With Simon you never know when it could turn into him leaving. Into him pulling away. Yet you find yourself unable to stop your frustration from dripping from your tongue like venom. Simon’s not doing any better.

"Your movie choices are questionable anyway!", Simon throws into your face. "I suffer through them just for you. But they're horrible really! They all suck. I want to watch something that actually entertains me!"

Okay, that stung. Just a few days ago you'd shared one of you favorite movies with him. A movie that changed something in you when you first watched it, a movie that slightly tilted your world view. You didn't expect him to like it but that stung. And in your mind his sentence turns into you not being entertaining enough.

So you step forward, trying to hold back tears. "Yeah, as if your", you jab your finger at his chest, Simon flinches back "movie choices -"

You freeze. He'd taken a step back, raising his hands to shield himself and your heart drops, shattering at your feet. His big eyes are watching your next move in apprehension.

It should be ridiculous, really, someone as capable as Simon, a trained soldier, flinching over you putting your finger on his chest. As if you could actually inflict harm on him. As if you wouldn't rather die than hurt him.

But it's not ridiculous. It's a fucking fist to the face.

The sudden quiet makes your ears ring and Simon doesn't seem to be any better. His chest is heaving. His arms are still up, shoulders hunched, his entire stance small and scared. He’s ready to block your blows, ready to deal with you finally putting your hands on him.

His breathing is loud and quick and you want to guide him to calmness but you don’t know how when you caused his distress in the first place. This is new territory. A new step you took that landed you directly over a mine and it’s exploding right now. Exploding in slow motion, letting you see the details of everything you’ve built with Simon shattering and crumbling into dust.

Then his entire demeanor changes and you almost get whiplash. In a flash he’s squared his feet, narrowed his eyes and dropped his shoulders. His hands have gone down but they’re fists at his sides and there’s nothing relaxed about his new stance. You just watched every wall he’s let down for you come back up in the matter of a second.

His cold gaze almost hurts, his eyes distant and calculating, trying to guess your next move. Like a shield of ice that slipped into place before his soul, keeping it hidden from you.

"Simon -" It's whispered. A plea.

He takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders and then starts walking towards you with purpose. For an irrational second you think he’s going to hit you for scaring him. You think he’s going to get revenge on you for everything that’s ever been done to him.

The next second you’re ashamed for even thinking that. He’s not going for you. No, it’s worse. He’s going for the door of the living room behind you.

You’re helplessly watching, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, throat dry, almost painful. Your heart is hammering so hard it feels like it’s trying break your ribs from the inside. Trying to break free so it can follow Simon.

You’re frozen as you watch him leave the room. Every single muscle in his body is coiled tight, ready to whip around and stop any threat. Stop you should you so much as breathe too hard.

Holding your breath, tears gather in your eyes, dripping wetly down your cheeks. This is it, you’re waiting for the telltale sound of the door to the apartment opening and closing, Simon walking out of your life because this is irreparable.

The relieve you feel when you hear the bedroom door instead almost brings you to your knees. Then you hear the lock to the room turn and your heart breaks all over again. He’s locked you out of his safe space.

Fuck.

You sink down onto the floor and start crying in earnest. You never wanted to scare him. Never wanted to provoke that reaction. You had only pointed your finger!

You’re not even sure if you’re crying over what you’d just done or if your tears are for Simon, how he must be feeling right now. The one person he’s let in raising their hand at him, making him feel unsafe.

He’d thought you’d hit him. He’d thought you’d put your hands on him in a harmful way.

The pain coursing through you makes you breathless as you cry for Simon and everything he’s endured, as you cry over what you’d just ruined.

Hopefully he can’t hear you from the bedroom. You don’t want to cry over this, it’s not your place to cry when Simon is the one hurting. But you’re so scared of losing him of losing your best friend of losing your forever that you can’t help it.

In a weird twisted, crooked way his reaction is prove of how much he trusts you. Trusted you. He’d trusted you enough to let his guard down so far that a gesture of yours caught him off guard. You’ve never seen him so surprised by something someone did, his eyes always all over everyone. He’s always so aware of everyone and everything.

The fact that he felt safe enough to even be caught off guard shows just how close he’d let you. It was a privilege, a gift. A fragile little thing with broken wings in your palms and now you’ve crushed it.

You try to calm your breathing more. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Deep, slow. The way you instruct Simon to breathe when he’s battling his demons.

Demons he might be battling right now. And suddenly your tears run dry and you jump to your feet. This really isn’t the time to feel sorry for yourself. So you get a slippery grip on your emotions and push them back for a later time.

Rushing to the bedroom, you raise your hand and pause. You can hear Simon’s steps in the room; he’s walking in circles like a caged animal. You’ll be damned if you don’t at least try to help, doesn’t matter if this is your fault in the first place.

You knock.

His steps halt.

And then they approach the door, soft thuds drawing closer, you can see the door handle turn but it doesn’t open. And then he’s frantically shaking it, apparently not remembering locking it.

“It’s locked!” His voice sounds so confused and scared that your chest feels like it’s caving in.

“You locked it, baby. You can unlock it. The key is on your side.”, you try to say in a calm soothing tone but you’re pretty sure your voice is shaking.

The turning of the key is frantic and the door gets ripped open and then you’re face to face with Simon and his eyes are wide, flitting all over the room, disoriented. His chest is still heaving, even worse than before, and when you see him shaking, you know there’s no stopping it.

Simon’s eyes lock on you and he doubles over, his hands clawing at his chest and neck, he's breathing too hard, always in until his chest must feel like it’s exploding.

“Can’t… breathe…”, he chokes out, eyes utterly terrified, tears starting to drip as he’s frantically trying to breathe and not drown in his feelings.

You don’t know if this is a ‘touch helps’ kind of panic attack or a ‘don’t you dare touch me’ panic attack and you’re scanning over him trying to guess, when his hand grips your shoulder in an iron grip and his wide eyes look straight through you.

He’s still hyperventilating and your heart seems hell bent on matching his hectic panting. Grabbing his arms, you try to steady him as he goes down, his knees buckling. He’s heavy in your hold and your muscles scream but you put your all into preventing him from falling and hurting himself in the process. At least you manage to slow his fall and then he’s on the floor on his hands and knees. One of his hands tries to dig his fingers into the floor as the other fists his shirt, damn near ripping it.

You have to do something even if you don’t know if it’ll help or make things worse. There's no forgiving yourself if you don’t at least try, even if it’s fishing in the dark. If it doesn’t work, you can change the approach. But doing nothing won’t help anyway. So you wrap your arms around him. “I’m going to lay you down, baby. I’m going to hold you.”

You don’t think he hears you but maneuvering him without telling him feels wrong anyway. And then you do exactly as you said, you tug Simon with all your strength towards you and he topples over onto his side, landing on top of you instead of the floor and you’re glad you’re there to soften his fall. Even if you’re pretty sure you’ll have bruises from it.

Immediately you wriggle partially out from under him, keeping him on your thighs, in your lap and you wrap your arms around him.

“I’ve got you, Simon. I’m here. You’re in our apartment. Everything is okay. You’re safe, baby.”

Tears silently start dripping fdown your face again, when he curls in on himself clawing at the floor and you know he will black out if he doesn’t get his breaths more even.

In a desperate attempt you put your hand over his chest and push. “Simon, breathe out, baby, come on. Out.”

You exhale in an exaggerated way next to his ear and you think you hear him exhaling the tiniest bit, before he’s sucking air in in in. But that’s something. He can hear you, he reacts, which means he’s allowing you to guide him.

You press again. “Good, again. Ouuuuuut.”, you exhale and this time he manages to get a bit more air out. The way your top is sticking to you with sweat makes you shiver but you don’t give any attention to your own body being stressed. It will calm down when Simon does.

You continue. You don’t know how long you talk to him like that, reassurances between commands to breathe. It’s probably only been a few minutes, but you’re exhausted like you’ve been going for hours, fighting for every exhale until finally his breathing is back to a rhythm that’s as close to normal as it can get in this moment.

The exhaustion rolls over you as if you’ve had the attack yourself and your body curls over him, resting your head on him as he shakes in your lap and breathes.

The thumping of his heart under your cheek is still way too quick and he’s shaking like a fucking leaf, so you drag your tired body out from under him and turn him onto his back. Goddamnit he’s heavy.

Looking at his face resupplies your tears. His cheeks are wet, he’s pale as a sheet and his arms are clutched tightly to him as he continues shaking. You know he’s somewhat aware of his surroundings again but he’s still victim to his mind and body.

Remembering what he’s asked for before in moments when he’s needed grounding, you crawl over him and lay down with your full weight. Your head rests on his chest, near his shoulders and his arms, curled over his chest, dig into your own uncomfortably but that doesn’t matter right now.

Your own body shakes with his as you raise your hands, gently lifting his head - after a silent “please” because he resisted for a moment until his eyes focused on you - and pull a rug closer so he can rest his head on that instead of the hard floor.

Your entire body sags with relief when he pulls his arms out from under you and wraps them around you instead. His hold is tight as if he’s trying to make your bodies merge into one. As if he’s trying to push you into his ribcage to keep your right next to his heart.

His heartbeat slowly returns to normal under you and yours follows his lead. When he lifts his head and presses a kiss to your forehead, you curl your fist tighter into his shirt and finally try to push yourself off of him. The slight tightening of his hold on you makes you settle again.

The broad palms of his hands are warm and soothing as they pass back and forth over your back. You press your lips to his chest through his shirt and his next exhale is long and shaky.

He moves, jostling you slightly, and you try to get up again, but he doesn’t let you. His voice is low and tired as he says: “Hold on, lovie.”

You do and he sits up, maneuvering you in his arms until he’s got one arm around your back and one under your knees. Then he stands up and even though his movements are slow and exhausted the little to no effort with which he handles your weight still steals your breath.

His heavy steps take you both back into your bedroom and he puts you down on your shared bed, crawling in with you immediately.

You turn onto your side, as does he and then you’re looking at each other, the exhaustion on his face making you feel your own all the more.

Simon moves his hand, covers one of yours and squeezes twice. Immediately you return the gesture. A small sleepy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. The reassurance behind that gesture making both of you melt into the mattress.

Still there’s so much talking to do and you end up whispering “We need to talk about this, Si.” into the small space between you, where your joined hands lie.

He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to each of your fingers, before letting it fall back onto the covers, still in his hold. His eyes are exhausted but you know you can’t sleep without having discussed what happened.

“I need you to know, Si”, you swallow against the tightness in your throat “I would never, ever hurt you. I’d rather chop off my own hand than touch you in a way that could cause you harm. I’m so sorry, Simon, I-“

“I know.”

You shut up, big eyes on his and he smiles, kissing the back of your hand this time.

“I know.”, he repeats and practically watches the gears in your head turn. So he takes a deep gulp of air and continues. “It’s not you, ‘luv. It’s the fucking past. Not your fault that a damn finger is all it took today to set me off. It’s my brain being a fucker.”

You’re so relieved you could cry again. He didn’t think you’d hurt him. His brain just didn’t make the distinction between the finger belonging to you or someone else at that moment. In that moment it was only a hand raised against him.

Still, maybe there’s a way to prevent that in the future? So you tentatively ask: “What can I do so you feel comfortable trusting me more? So you don’t feel like you’re endangered by a gesture from me?”

“I trust you.”, he states calmly and you shake your head.

“There has to be something I can do better. So it’s easier for you to trust-“ The way Simon takes your joined hands and brings them up to his throat, abruptly shuts you up. He's pressing your palm against it so it would be easy to squeeze and hurt and – you try to pull it back and he forces your hand harder against his throat with his own. You freeze completely.

“I trust you.”

Your eyes widen and fly to his from where they’d been locked onto his throat and the way your hand is curled against it in a chokehold.

His eyebrows are drawn together and his eyes fixated on you, willing you to understand. The soft caress of his thumb on the back of your hand - a hand that could cut off his oxygen if you wanted - makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

“Okay.”, you whisper and he finally drops his hand, allows you to slowly draw your hand back from his throat. Your eyes are still widened and lock onto his neck again. Leaning forward you press a kiss to the delicate skin over his Adam’s apple and feel him swallow heavily under your lips.

When you look at hom again his eyebrows are still furrowed and warm palm finds your cheek. “I’m sorry, I reacted like that to something so small.”

You shake your head and nuzzle into his hold, giving a little kiss to his thumb. There's desperation in his eyes and you whish you could kiss it away.

“I’m sorry, ‘m all kinds of fucked up, ‘luv. Wouldn’t fault you if it’s too much. If you want to –“ Your hand covers his mouth and his eyes betray the surprise at that gesture.

“Don’t you dare, Si. Don’t you dare even say that.  As if I’d want that. You shouldn’t even think that. The only reason why I mind the panic attacks is because I know how heavily they weigh on you. You can flinch, you can scream, you can break, I don’t mind. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t enjoy seeing you hurt, if I could I’d make it stop, but I’ll take that as long as I have you in my arms at the end of the day.”

His hand gently draws your hand away from his mouth and he whispers: “But I’m a handful, lovie. How can you not mind the hassle?”

You smile at him, a little mischievously. “Good thing that I’ve got two hands then, baby.”

He snorts, while his entire face softens, and draws you in closer, you're pressed into his chest, his arms around you and he showers your head with kiss after kiss.

“I thought you were going to leave me.”, comes your muffled voice abruptly halting all of Simon's movement. Gently he pushes you away a bit so you can see his sincerity when he answers.

“Never. As long as you’ll have me.”

Your eyes water and he tilts your head up, with the tip of his finger under your chin, and presses the softest of kisses to your lips. “Don’t care about the flinches and panic attacks and hard moments as long as I get to be in your arms at the end of the day.”

You laugh, when he uses your words against you, a cracked, teary laugh and kiss him again.

“Fuck I need a nap.”, he groans once you’ve managed to stop spelling your love against the lips of each other. You giggle.

“We both do, but drink something first. You’ll wake up with a headache if you don’t.”, you say and he groans with the effort of rolling over and drinking out of the bottle on his nightstand.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, what he did to find someone so caring. Who looks at his hard exterior and handles it with soft touches and patience. He doesn’t know what he did right in his life, because he for sure can’t remember ever doing anything right, to find someone like you. He’s not going to let you go and if he has to beg at some point, then he’ll strangle his pride with his own two hands and do so.

When he faces you again he grins. “Mission accomplished, Sir.”

You groan and hide your face in your hands, missing Simon’s soft expression at your flustered state. God you’re so cute. Especially when you’re voice comes out all embarrassed when you say: “You can’t say that! You know what it does to me when you call me that!”

He wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close, your bodies fit to each other, immediately finding comfort in each other. And he can feel a wave of calmness crash over him, making him sleepy and slow. “Ya can do something ‘bout that when we wake up. Don’t think my soldier’s up to doing any long marches right now.”

He’s expecting it when your hand wriggles free and slaps his shoulder. “Simon!” You can feel his upper body shake with silent laughter.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Si.”

Your eyes are heavy, your muscles finally relaxing after all that tension of earlier. Your bodies melt into each other. You can feel Simon’s breathing getting slower, a telltale sign of him falling asleep.

“I love you.”, you mumble again before sleep takes you.

Simon’s too far gone to reply but you feel the two squeezes of his hand on you, pressing his love directly into your skin.

[juniperss]

okay hear me out but darry would be an absolutely amazing boyfriend??

You should do darry bf headcannons😘

*gets onto the stage and grabs the microphone* you don't understand how much i love darry curtis! i absolutely agree that he would be a fantastic boyfriend

(Gender neutral reader)

Darry prior to his parents' death was a very different guy and so depending on when the two of you begin dating, you might have fallen in love with a different kind of Darry.

Prior to his parent's death he was a lot more care free and had less on his plate. His responsibilities were still there, helping his dad with working and saving money, but he didn't have nearly as much to worry about. He was more spontaneous and full of an easy laughter. Dating him back then was full of going to his games and cheering for him, it was movie nights at the drive in with his pesky brothers and friends getting in the way. It was him taking more risks with you and laughing in the front seat of the car after making out.

But after his parents death, things piled on and he became how we know Darry to be; grown up too fast for his age. Dating him after his parent's death means that he has a lot of other responsibilities that come before you even if he wishes that wasn't the case. You have to give him the grace and love in order for a relationship to really work with him.

Now that is out of the way we're gonna move into boyfriend!Darry with the premise of dating him after his parents deaths

Darry is super busy. I'm talking like working 2-3 jobs on top of looking after his brothers and dealing with whatever bullshit the Curtis Gang is getting into. But he somehow always manages to make some time for you. It's not a lot, sometimes, but it's there. Whether that's having you tell him about your day when he's cooking dinner or driving you to work or dropping you off on his way to one of his jobs.

While I don't see him being big into PDA (he has a reputation to uphold come on and plus the boys are really annoying if they catch PDA) he does love physical affection when it's just the two of you.

He YEARNS to lay down next to you at night and feel you pressed up against him. He YEARNS for you to run your fingers through his hand.

Please please please hold his hands and massage them, I'm begging. His does a lot of manual labor and his hands are rough and calloused and he melts into a puddle of goo when you massage his hands and fingers.

Darry has a collection of sweatshirts that are oversized and no I won't take criticism on this. He doesn't wear them often, he mostly sleeps in them if anything, but since dating you he's taken a shine to seeing you in them. Even if they're not oversized on you, just seeing you in his clothing makes him get all hot under the collar.

Just seeing you in his spaces in general actually gets to him. He loves having you in the house or in his car, in his room. Having you around him is a source of comfort and he soaks that in.

10/10 the type of boyfriend to tuck you in?? Like during a movie at the house with the gang and you fall asleep, he's tucking a blanket over you. Shivering a little in the night? His jacket is over your shoulders.

I don't see him being super into pet names other than like "babe" or "baby"? He likes how your name sounds on his lips. Might give you a nickname though.

So, I don't think you two are gonna be going out on dates in the traditional sense. A lot of dates are definitely going to be at the house or in secluded areas outside. There are a few factors: For one thing money is tight for him, another is that there just isn't a lot to do in the small town, the third being that he hates leaving the gang alone especially his brothers. But you two find ways to make the most of your date nights. Sneaking into the movie theater or finding a way place to spectate events for free. You two probably spend a lot of time in his room and that's not even inherently sexual. His room is the one space that's his and he can share that intimate space with you.

His room wasn't anything special until you two started dating and then it slowly began collecting things to make it more comfortable. It's not a coincidence that half of those things are yours (like that blanket that he loves or that candle that he thought was going to be awful but smells so soothing). It's still "not much" as he would say, but you wouldn't trade it for anything.

KISSES WITH DARRY LETS DISCUSS, SHALL WE? Darry LOVES KISSING. There I said it and I stand by it. He loves to kiss you. It makes him feel less like someone with the world on the shoulders and more like the guy he used to be.

He's got a range of kisses depending on his mood but he's always giving you a kiss goodbye or goodnight no matter what.

Loves a good lazy make out in bed even if he's worried about being late for work or getting his brothers out the door. Can easily be convinced to stay a moment longer if you straddle his hips and keep kissing him.

The first kiss between the two of you was a bit awkward but that doesn't mean it was bad. It was the two of you figuring each other out and melted into a tender kiss with your back against the door of his car.

Hands resting on your hips while he kisses you, hands cupping your face, hands in your back pockets. He has his hands on you! I don't have a thing for his hands

Darry does so much providing for others that he runs out of energy a lot. So if you're the type to do things for him like the laundry or cooking or helping to fix things around the house, even helping Ponyboy with his homework that would make all the difference to him. He doesn't really feel as if he's got someone to help shoulder the load of life with, as much as he loves his brothers they aren't really people he wants to share a burden with (nor does he feel like they should have to deal with it). He doesn't even want to really ask you for help. That's why if you don't even ask and you just do things to help, he falls even more in love with you.

me writing this post^

[vasyandii]

Giving The CoD Men Icks

But its only the ones I care about and it's based off of vibes (just for funsies!)

[Characters Included: Krueger, König,Gromsko, Nikto, Bale]

KRUEGER:

Messy eater, forgets to use a napkin because he's used to just eating under his mask

Overall just a very messy person, dirty clothes, etc. Stuff accumulates in his room

Highkey condescending?? Like if you were having trouble with a new weapon he would be like "you don't know how to use it?"

Anger issues, has not been to Anger management about it

Takes pictures like a Facebook dad. You know what I mean

KÖNIG:

Messy eating just runs in the family huh. He definitely chews hella loud and speaks with his mouth full

He's not funny, like his humor might pander to very few people so whenever he tells a joke the other KorTac ops just kinda go 😐👀 "okay buddy"

Anger issues, has been to Anger management

Mansplains, Unintentionally

Probably has gone a few days without brushing his teeth on multiple occasions

GROMSKO:

None, he is perfect

Millennial humour (derogatory)

Uses Facebook

"Yeah I'm 6'3, not a big deal tho (it is, please Date me)"

Mumbles like he knows the lyrics to a song

NIKTO:

Has said a slur before. Just look at him and tell me this mf hasn't bc he definitely has

Type of guy who makes fun of your interests even if he obviously knows you like it

Dirty nails, dawg does not clean his gear what makes you think he'll clean his hands

Does not use the right (you're, your), (to, too, two), (there, they're, their)

Watched Breaking Bad and related to Walter White

BALE:

calls dogs "doggos" or "puppos"

If you're dating him he's gonna want you to call him some stupid corny shit like "bubbas" 💀

Favourite movie is The Matrix but not for the right reasons

[judasofsuburbia]

nancy wheeler's no homewrecker but hearing robin ramble about what to do for her next date with vickie made her really want to be one. not that robin and vickie were even official-- not really--but it seems like nancy has become the confider of all of robin's romantic panic and it was beginning to tear her up inside.

she wanted to be the one that shared a milkshake with robin or slap her money down first for the movie tickets. she wondered why steve couldn't be this all-knowing date decipher for the girl but she wasn't about to shove robin away either.

"so tomorrow's date three," nancy says with a teasing inflection.

robin's picking at the holes in her jeans with trembling fingers. "y-yep, date three. big deal."

"i think so," nancy says, going for encouraging but probably sounding patronizing by the way robin's eyes flash up to her.

"what would you expect from a third date?" robin asks.

nancy adjusts herself on the couch while she thinks. "well...it depends. if they've already kissed me before, probably some making out in their car. heavy petting if things are going well. i'd expect a longer date too."

robin's eyes are as wide as saucers. "b-but i haven't kissed her yet."

nancy blinks in surprise. she's not sure why she's surprised, figuring robin would have probably told her already all the intricate details of the way vickie kisses.

"no?" nancy asks.

robin shakes her head rapidly, gnawing on her bottom lip.

"that's okay," nancy says slowly. "this would probably be the date to kiss her, though."

"fuck," robin mumbles. "you're right."

her tone hits nancy like a freight train. "you haven't kissed anyone before, have you?"

robin rolls her lips into her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut. her nails are digging into those holey jeans, ripping the threads one by one. pop. pop. pop.

nancy instinctively grabs robin's hands to keep her from digging into skin. robin's eyes open and they're scared shitless. nancy squeezes robin's hands and smiles tenderly.

"it's gonna be okay," nancy assures. "a quick goodnight peck is easy."

robin groans. "i'm fucking nineteen years old. if i kiss her all clumsy, she's gonna know and everything will be ruined and i'll never find love and die an old spinster with a hoard of cats that'll eat my dead body for sustenance."

nancy's nose wrinkles at the visual but she laughs gently. "stop it. kissing is simple if you pay attention. vickie's kissed someone before so you just kind of follow her lead."

"follow her lead?" robin asks.

is nancy going to do this? is she really going to do this?

"do you want me to show you?" nancy blurts.

robin's eyes grow even wider and her fidgety body goes completely still. "w-what?"

nancy's really gonna do this, huh?

"doesn't have to mean anything," nancy says quickly. "just...practice."

"practice," robin repeats lamely.

oh lord, she's really gonna do this.

"would it settle your nerves?" nancy asks.

robin thinks for a moment but inevitably nods her head.

"then i can teach you," nancy says with as much confidence as she can muster.

"o-okay," robin stutters. "can i get some chapstick first?"

nancy lets go of her hands and nods. nancy goes to dig in her purse too. they settle back down on the couch and slowly apply some chapstick to their lips. when they make eye contact, the two girls burst into small giggles and nudge each other with their elbows. nancy gets on her knees on the couch and robin moves to mimic her stance. robin's breathing heavily and her eyes are darting all over the place.

nancy taps her knee and says, "robbie, we don't have to--"

"what's step one?" robin interrupts with a shy smile.

nancy exhales shallowly and scoots closer. she holds up a tentative hand to robin's cheek and tucks her hair behind her ear. "okay, so, there's a build-up. the moments before the kiss. you could be anywhere when this happens, really, but it's important to read people's expressions."

"i'm terrible at that," robin whines.

"check for simple things, then," nancy says calmly. "like if her eyes dart down to your lips." nancy demonstrates a few times and watches robin's eyes follow her movement. "or if she moves closer to talk to you." nancy leans her face in and sees how robin's face gets a little flushed. "she might even ask you if it's okay to kiss you."

"s-she would?" robin whispers.

"maybe," nancy whispers. "can i kiss you, robbie?"

robin nods again.

"so she'll lean in," nancy whispers, her lips now a breath away from robin's. nancy tries to stay in the zone but she's drifting slowly. wrapped up in robin's orbit. "and gently...kiss you."

nancy presses her lips delicately to robin's. a small peck before leaning back. "see? simple," nancy whispers breathlessly as her heart pounds against her ribs.

"do i...press back?" robin whispers.

"mhm," nancy hums. "i'll kiss you again and you press back, okay?"

nancy kisses her again and robin hesitantly moves her lips against hers. it's not as uncoordinated as nancy was anticipating, but it lasts a little long. nancy moves her lips again, pressing repeatedly to keep things moving. all gentle pecks. robin gets the gist after the first few and follows her lead, just as she instructed earlier. nancy knows they're getting carried away here but she can't will herself to pull away. not yet.

robin's confidence ramps up and she holds nancy's cheek. nancy hums contently and kisses her deeper. lips slotting on top of each other softly and languidly. robin is the first to pull away, taking in large breaths and nancy's about to speak but robin just pulls her back in.

"don't," nancy pants against robin's lips. "forget to breathe."

"yeah," robin murmurs, dazed.

nancy wonders if she should say more but instead, she follows her impulse to suck gently on robin's bottom lip. robin gasps and holds nancy's face closer, tilting her head to sink further into nancy's mouth. nancy tastes her chapstick, root beer flavored, which is so fun and so sweet and so robin it makes her brain spark.

her tongue pokes out and robin drops her jaw enough but nancy hesitates.

"um," nancy whispers. "is this okay? can i--"

"please," robin begs quietly and then clears her throat. "i mean, show me, um, if you want to."

nancy grins, she can't help it. she uses her grip on robin's face to coax her mouth open again and she traces her bottom lip delicately before dipping behind robin's teeth. robin moans and presses her tongue up against nancy's. it's all so slow and intentional that it heats up their bodies, quickens their heartbeat, and heightens everything.

eventually, they're laying down on nancy's couch, sinking into each other, kissing kissing kissing until their lips are puffy and numb. the friendliness of this exchange, if there ever was any, has completely vanished.

as nancy continues their "practice" down robin's neck, robin knows she’s gotta cancel on vickie. because there’s no way robin wants to kiss anybody else after this.

[veirtyel]

Okay cause I need to talk about it here are some of the biggest differences between The Boys In The Boat movie vs book that I wish had been in the movie

Bobby Moch's Jewishness; for those who don't know, Bobby was half jewish. His dad was jewish which he only found out right before going to Berlin, which was a big deal for him. His whole life he didn't know because his family left europe and changed their last name, and his father hid from him the fact that they're Jewish. At this time, anti-jewish rhetoric was being propoganded to the nine in Germany and Europe, reaching the US as well, which made Bobby leading the team to victory against Germany, like, a big deal and I feel like could have been a cool thing to happen in the movie. I loved Bobby in the movie and think he had actually one of the better book-to-film character adaptations, I just wish this had also been included.

Joe and Shorty's friendship!!! Another thing that was changed was that Joe actually only knew Roger and Shorty for the first like year of school, but he was really close with Shorty (the guy who sits behind him on the boat the whole movie). There's this whole bit I was sure they'd include in the movie where shorty would always say "I got your back, Joe," to him during practice and races, and I just wished they'd emphasized on this in the film since we really only see Joe's friendship with Roger and (kinda) Don.

Speaking of THIS. Don did get sick in real like and was practically at Death's door. The only reason he even raced in the final race was because of the boys! There coach was literally gonna ban him from racing and would have, but the boys put up a fight. They gathered before the race and told the Coach that they wouldn't row without Don, that they'd drag him if they had to. I wish they'd included a scene of the boys fighting for Don to be in the boat, because without Don, they wouldn't be complete. I might be delusional but I'm actually pretty sure they DID shoot this scene then didn't include it (my evidence is that I saw a behind the scenes where they're yelling at SOMEONE and I'm delusional)

Joe played the banjo!!!! He was like really good at it and it fit perfectly with Don's whole piano thing (he really did play the piano well) like they added that whole scene in the movie where they force Don to play the piano in front of everyone and like they could have included Joe's banjo skills lol.

They fought the germans. Like, the boys at some point got physical with the German team and i KNOW they filmed this too (Mr Clooney give me the extended scenes plx I beg of you)

This is all I can think of at the moment, but I also have in my head a list of things they changed for the movie that I liked, and vice versa

[shalotttower]

Pholcus phalangioides

Title: Pholcus phalangioides

Fandom: The Collector (2009). Can be read as an original inspired by the source, because I took some creative liberties.

Summary: There's a spider in your bathroom, it lives under the mirror cabinet and you a) don't want to kill it, and b) are too scared to touch it, so now you can either keep giving it one side eye after another, or ask your neighbour for help.

Word count: 4000+

Characters: Asa Emory x Reader

Notes: yandere Asa, spiders and insects descriptions, stalking, voyeurism of sort - Asa watches Reader without her realizing it, kidnapping, vague hinting on body horror, non-con touching, Reader is socially awkward. Asa is not 100% in-movie-character Asa (he actually talks lol), a huge chunk of him is based on my headcanons.

You have this problem - a spider problem, to be precise. Not that it's too big of a deal, but...it also is.

Spiders are generally okay.

They eat unwanted guests, like flies and mosquitos or even other spiders. Make cool webs, which is probably one of the most complicated forms of art, not to mention a mathematical pattern to it - a combination of radial and circular symmetry. The golden ratio in nature.

In general they're important for keeping a backyard ecosystem nice and intact.

But.

But there is a spider in your bathroom, right under the sink cabinet, with thin legs, a long body, and of course - eyes. Quiet, kept to itself, really chill spider who doesn't move much except to crawl around a little and sometimes look at you when it catches you looking.

It probably lived in hiding somewhere, before deciding that dark spaces weren't up to its standards anymore and making an appearance. You haven't swatted it away, caught it, struck it with a paper - mostly because you're not good at killing living creatures, and secondly because the spider isn't doing any harm, just observing your every step, and generally being present.

When you check your makeup bag, it watches. When you brush your teeth, it watches. When you close the cabinet door it wiggles and your heart goes "ee" as if someone shocked it with a static charge. This yellowish-brown witness of your everyday activities, silently approving and judging, lately makes you feel like a nuisance in your own bathroom. You desperately wish there was a way to make it move to another corner. A less centralized one, less straight in your face. Yet the thought of touching it makes you cringe inwardly; your mind conjures images of different scenarios involving spider-related unpleasantries - accidentally squashing it, or getting bitten and dying a slow, miserable death.

It's gotta go.

Because the more you see it, the more your brain tries to assign it human features. And the longer it stares, the bigger the chance it might grow a pair of lips to say "get out of my bathroom".

The thought comes to you in the morning while setting a breakfast plate on the kitchen counter. The house is quiet, all windows are open and you stare through one of them at your neighbour's fence. You rarely see him, though the parked car is always a giveaway of his presence. Emory, that's what the mailbox says, and he has a neat garden, not an extravagant type, but everything is carefully trimmed and arranged into simple patterns.

There's even a stone bench by a small tree. Does it actually get used on sunny days? Probably no. He seems like a loner, from what you've seen so far: tall and pale, with wire-rimmed glasses and still grey eyes. Very focused and put together, a turtleneck and dark trousers kind of Mister. Never waving when passing by, though he does glance sometimes - sharp and attentive.

Once you caught him leaning over a bush with back straight and head hanging low. Your stomach gave this funny, nervous twitch, like when a stranger tries to start a conversation in public. He looked your way and then resumed whatever he was doing.

"Whatever" appeared to be something small, sharp limbs and a shiny body. It looked like a beetle, stretched to an absurd degree, and the way he held that thing felt strangely intimate. The same way you'd cradle a baby animal in your hands, rubbing its forehead with a fingertip. Emory put it in a plastic box, sealed it, and went into his house, not sparing you another glance.

This particular memory - of long fingers and a careful grasp - is what makes you think that maybe, possibly, theoretically, he could handle one pesky spider for you. You've seen him with insects a couple of times after, no doubt Mr. Emory is one of those who glue bugs to display boards. The creepy friend in the bathroom must be right up his alley then.

Five minutes later the two of you are staring at each other in awkward silence. Bothering barely acquainted neighbours isn't usually high on your list of priorities, especially if said neighbours look like they prefer being alone. You know it's odd, you know it probably crosses some boundaries, yet here you are.

With a crease on his brow and a tight mouth, Emory isn't thrilled at this sudden visit. Maybe he was in the middle of something, or is just uncomfortable with people invading his space. In any case, you clear your throat.

"Good morning. I live in the house across the road. The white porch? With-"

"I know," it's a dry reply. Not rude, more matter-of-factly; his eyes are fixed on you with a hint of unsettling peculiarity which makes you shift from one foot to the other.

He's not pest control, you think. Or obligated to help in any way. Emory can tell you to kindly fuck off right now and close the door, why did you even come here? It's stupid and intrusive. You're almost ready to take it all back and go home, pretend like nothing happened and just deal with that spider yourself, when he speaks again.

"What do you need?"

He has a quiet voice, a very even direct tone that doesn't encourage small talk, but prompts answers. Now and without pointless filling.

"I know how it's going to sound," you start, cringing inside, "and apologize in advance for bothering you, but I had an impression you collect...bugs."

"Insects. Arachnids."

"Right. So I was thinking if you'd mind removing a spider from my bathroom. I don't want to kill it, but I can't- I can't touch it."

His gaze slowly shifts from your face to the house behind you. As if Emory has an x-ray vision, or a complete mental map of your household layout. Ha, this would be ridiculous. There's no apparent disapproval in his pale face, but something else, a different kind of assessment. Evaluation of how much it is worth spending time on someone with an overgrown lawn? His eyes return back and you feel pinned down.

The longer he stays silent, the more you wish for the ground to open and swallow you whole.

"If you can't I totally understand-"

"What kind of spider?"

It's your turn to stare. How are you supposed to know, you've never studied spider biology. It looks like any other common variety, except creepier because it refuses to leave its spot and stay in the sewer where it belongs. "I...light-brownish, with long legs. Thin? Slender," there's more you could add but any further description will probably make you sound like a total dunce who can't recognize basic arachnids. "Kind of big."

You expect a 'sure', maybe 'I'll be there shortly' or 'no'. What you get is Emory moving past you and walking up your front porch. The scent of laundry detergent and soap, very clean, hits your nose before you rush to open the door.

"Uhm. Second floor," you explain, awkwardly shuffling after him. For the first time since the day you moved in, you worry about what someone might see inside the house. As far as clutter goes, your place is acceptable, perhaps a few forgotten cups around and yesterday's sweater thrown on a couch. Surely, it's not too bad.

Emory, however, doesn't seem interested in the surroundings. The staircase doesn't even creak under his weight, despite the house being around a century old. He steps over the little border which always makes you trip if you walk too fast, like it's not there. Like the corner you often bump your hip into doesn't exist either. He navigates your home with effortless precision, an inward kind of certainty that makes your eyebrows rise. Maybe...the houses on your street have the same blueprint.

Either way, he walks into your bathroom without hesitation, turning on the light. You hover by the doorway, unsure: should you offer something to drink, ask him if he needs anything else or just step away and leave him to do his thing?

The spider is there, hiding under the cabinet, when Emory leans over to observe it. He's probably seen many different specimens, you think, and this isn't interesting at all compared to the ones who have an intricate design or unique behavior.

"She's a part of the Pholcidae family," Emory says suddenly. Just like that there's 'she', instead of 'it', and the spider twitches and shifts. "Daddy long-legs. Harmless."

He puts his palm up close to its back. At first, it seems startled, but after a moment slowly calms down, and moves a leg - left then right - getting familiar with his hand.

"Docile creatures," Emory continues, while the spider walks along the edge of his palm. No running around, no random leaps, stick-like limbs touch and probe him with curiosity, much like you'd study something new. "They stay in the dark, hide in the corners while feasting on smaller things. Your intruder is a useful tenant."

It makes you feel slightly nauseous, how nonchalant he is about holding something that prompts recoil on instinct.

"Do you want to hold her?" Emory turns to you and there's a faint, strange smile on his lips. It doesn't reach his eyes and makes him look like an alien who tries to mimic human expressions based only on observation. His pupils are so dark that you can barely tell the difference between the irises and the rest. They seem bottomless, absorbing all light, but reflecting none in return. You take one step backwards, shaking your head.

"I'll pass."

He keeps staring at you for what feels like forever before returning his attention to the spider crawling on his skin. Emory reaches into his back pocket for a small container.

"Are you not setting her outside?" You ask. "She...she doesn't look like, uh, a rare species."

Not that you're an expert.

"No," Emory closes the lid with a quiet click. "She isn't one. But I'm going to keep her."

And he does. The little captive spider rests at the very bottom of a plastic case when you send the man on his way and thank him for the help. Emory accepts it with a nod, no further words, and then there's only his back when he leaves. The morning air rushes in, crisp and fresh, smelling like grass, tree leaves and soil.

*

It feels like you blink, and three days go by. You still keep an eye on the bathroom cabinet by some sort of habit, however there's nothing out of the ordinary lurking there, no creepy critters and definitely no thin legs scattering in multiple directions. All is well, now you can brush your teeth, take care of business and even lean close without fear something might fall on your head.

It's just a spider. You googled it later, and how common it is around the continents should be a bit ridiculous. Keeping it might equal to going on a beach and picking the most unremarkable pebble you see; Emory certainly could find hundreds more Daddy long-legs wherever he pleased - parks, gardens or forests.

So...why?

The question gnaws at you, together with that smile and cold grey eyes hidden behind glasses' frames. The weirdest part wasn't the expression, it was how you couldn't read it. Despite the obvious display of human emotion, however misplaced and alien, it failed to reveal anything. The smile was there, and yet nothing broke through it, not amusement, nor politeness - or any kind of feeling whatsoever.

Your neighbour is odd.

Not necessarily scary, though there's a sense of mystery surrounding him, it makes you feel like standing next to an iceberg and only seeing its tip. Or you've just read far too many psychological thrillers and your imagination likes to conjure up the wildest scenarios, trying to turn each and every thing into something sinister.

Maybe you should just chill and get some tea, and stop being so dramatic about a guy who came over and politely removed a spider for you.

*

They're not a unique species. Not even remotely uncommon.

He taps the container gently with his index finger, making the spider move back and forth. She doesn't have venom, no poisonous chemicals to injure and kill. Hiding in abandoned corners she does, patient and careful, waiting to catch the wrong fly.

You're just like her. Nothing exciting. Not unique.

Your movement patterns are similar, concealed in a different package you're still predictable: getting home from work, cooking dinner, watching TV shows. Everyday routines.

Fear is a part of your nature. Awkwardness which comes with socializing: you shuffle when uncomfortable, avoid prolonged eye contact and don't like confrontation, he noticed this right away. A quiet type, keeping mostly to yourself unless you need something urgently; and then you rush, like a scared Daddy long legs. There's this shiftiness, an inner desire to be less visible, but also a yearning for recognition because the lack of it hurts. And he saw all those small things, catalogued them one by one, as you moved into his street and became a constant presence.

Asa has never thought about keeping something - someone - so mundane before. Never. He likes rare things, spectacular, and those collected in the basement, they all are, especially when he's finished with them. They're extraordinary, displayed under glass cases and preserved for eternity.

He doesn't collect common species. Daddy long-legs are abundant everywhere around him.

But.

There's the way you linger by the kitchen window during the morning routine, slowly sipping hot coffee. When your lips purse and eyes lose focus for a moment. Or how the corners of them wrinkle sometimes when you have a genuine, amused laugh. It's something like warmth. There's no label for the feeling - positive, negative or neutral, it just is, like one single, meaningless element in an ecosystem.

He shouldn't want someone so average.

And yet Asa watches from the corner of your living room, crouched on the floor by a plant.

You don't hear him, too invested in your personal bubble. Well, he had enough time to polish his craft and figure out how soundless he can be when moving through spaces, how much weight he needs to place onto soles to avoid creaking wood and floorboards.

It's interesting to see you interact with your environment, unaware of being watched. There's an invisible pattern behind each action, even if you think everything is randomized. The web you wove around yourself is cozy, and Asa follows its threads while you check the phone and frown at whatever notification pops up. He is considering. Contemplating this impulsive desire he has yet to identify.

Would it be worth it? Keeping you. Adding you to the collection and seeing what comes out of it, how far his usual approach might take him with you in the same conditions. You're just a face with features. So...ordinary. He wants to pick you apart and look inside to make sure it's not some strange sort of mimicry, camouflage of a different nature hiding something else entirely.

There's this vague idea how those features may feel when touched. He can recall them accurately, even when you've never stood too close. Asa watches quietly from his hiding place, memorizing a displeased mumble and then a frustrated gesture.

You seem so alive.

Those below who are frozen in time now were too, before Asa decided to give them a purpose and make something special and worthy of his attention. They were alive like you, but now they're something better.

What purpose you have remains to be seen.

Asa decides then.

A plain trunk is nestled in the corner behind a coat hanger, no fancy latch or keyhole needed, only an ordinary padlock. You'll fit in nicely, squeezed in the cramped space, it won't be the most comfortable experience, but it's not for long and then...then he can show you the room where others stayed before, and where you'll be next.

Asa looks around one last time: the front door is locked, blinds down, lights off - you get up from the couch and head upstairs, right on the dot. Your house is easy to navigate despite the darkness; Asa knows his way around it, having been here already more than once. A step after a step he follows the soft padding of your bare feet, and when the steps halt, he pulls out a cloth. It's a heavy kind of pleasure to be able to stand right behind and admire your nape, there's a strange sort of vulnerability to it.

Something raw and very exposed.

It takes only a few movements, he catches your yelp into one of his hands and holds it clasped tightly as you thrash. Your nails dig into the fabric of his turtleneck but fail to leave any marks. He's never tired of it, the initial fear of his specimens realizing that their secure habitats are ruined. He doesn't mind this fight for survival.

"Shh," Asa breathes into your ear. "Shh."

The struggle doesn't last long - you're not a fighter - and when your body goes limp, he picks you up. Your perfume is surprisingly light, a very sweet and pleasant aroma, not overwhelming at all like he'd expect it to be.

It's nice.

He puts you in the trunk, a boxy space barely big enough to fit you curled on the side, it's going to take around thirty minutes to reach the hotel and another three to put you in the right cell. You'll sleep the rest of the journey, which is fortunate for everyone. It's always easier to deal with a specimen if they're resting.

The lock clicks softly - it's time to go home.

*

Something runs down your cheek - a drop, a bead of sweat, a touch - and you blink, trying to make sense of it. The surroundings are unfamiliar, blurry shapes with undefined outlines that stretch and wobble before your eyes. Your jaw hurts, clenched so hard that teeth grind together, and it takes a conscious effort to relax.

Where...what?

The living room, a TV program, a soundless whisper that froze the hairs at your nape, then someone was behind you. You remember a sickly sweet smell, and after that nothing but a haze and the dark, and the sensation of being squeezed into a shape. Your legs feel numb, arms too, like you spent hours immobile in one position. Slowly the world sharpens back into focus, but instead of relief there's only dread.

You're in a room.

No bigger than a regular bathroom and void of any furniture beside a cot-like bed, a toilet in the corner and a sink. The walls are a bluish-gray with thin cracks, tiny fissures that create uneven lines from the ceiling all the way down to the floor.

And there's a man, observing you quietly through the thick glass.

You don't notice him immediately, too busy assessing your new location, and when you do the air feels heavier, difficult to move past your throat. He's wearing a mask. Black rubber or something, covering everything except his eyes. He presses two palms against the barrier separating you, the silence stretches into an eternity.

'Who are you? What do you want?' - these are kind of questions you should be asking, but they don't come out. You remain glued to the spot, counting the passing seconds by their painful tick-tock-tick-tocks. One minute turns into two, and he...just stares without moving a muscle in a beyond unnerving manner. Your gaze dips lower to check his clothes, perhaps find a pattern to identify this person later.

There's none. Everything is plain black, like a uniform made to be invisible - turtleneck, pants, even gloves and boots.

It seems that your silence somehow pleases him, because a few moments later he leaves without looking back.

You don't know how much time passes; there's not a window around, only a bare, stark bulb, yellowish in its brightness and casting unpleasant shadows all over the floor. Not a single sound. Traffic, voices of distant passersby or birds - all is absent and doesn't provide even a bit of understanding where the hell you are.

In the end, you...sit down on the bed and wait, because what else is there? Everything is eerily silent and very, very uncomfortable: this emptiness, the absence of noise, the endless ticking of an invisible clock. It's difficult not to cry, but you try your best, somehow it feels important to remain composed. There has to be a reason behind this. There must be one, and you repeat it over and over, like a mantra to soothe the nerves and present your mind with some semblance of logic: once you figure out what's going on, you'll figure out how to get out as well.

Pulling loose threads from your sleeve is poor entertainment, if anything, the strain of boredom and unease gradually grows into anxiety so sharp that you almost miss the sound of approaching footsteps.

He's back again, the masked stranger who stands in the doorway with hands clasped behind his back. A pair of light grey eyes is a splash of different color, but they are blank. They watch with distant curiosity of an animal trainer monitoring a newborn cub. The comparison makes something ugly squirm inside you. A part of you wants to make a run for it, the other keeps yelling that it would be immensely stupid.

One, two, three, four steps he takes into your cell. Your back meets the wall, the chill coming from its solid surface cuts right through the layers of clothing. Five, six. He stops only when there's less than arm's reach between you, then leans to brush away loose strands of hair sticking to your temples. Your stomach goes taut. This scent. Laundry detergent mixed with soap. The turtleneck, grey eyes, very collected kind of Mister.

A sickly shiver of revulsion shoots down your spine, making you curl tighter into a ball. Emory cups your jaw with both hands - they're cold even through the gloves material. This is too close, an unwanted and unpleasant violation of boundaries, and yet he continues to examine your face, like you're some sort of an object he can handle however he pleases.

Your cheek gets a light pat. Any theories about his identity stay unvoiced, mostly because you fear the reaction they might prompt. Something tells you that screaming is a bad idea too. 'Be quiet,' an insistent whisper says deep inside your skull, 'be still.'

His thumbs press to the corners of your mouth. "Open," he orders, and you can't not, even though the whole thing sounds and feels bizarre. "Wider."

There's a quiet click. A flashlight, of those small ones you can easily hold in one hand, shines right into your eyes, making them water from the unexpected brightness. "Don't bite or I'll remove all of your teeth."

It's a simple threat, delivered with such a calm tone, there's no need for yelling when words are that clear and straightforward.

He inspects your mouth, the edges of teeth and gums, your inner cheeks, and you let him, clenching your fists. There's not much you can do, at least that's what you keep telling yourself to ease the heavy, sinking feeling of powerlessness. Your mind chants 'too close' on a loop, urging to wiggle away; you stay. It's unclear what exactly he's looking for - dental or oral diseases, a sore throat, cavities, or the lack of them?

It lasts forever until he straightens back up and puts the light away.

"Good," Emory states. There's another pat to your head before he turns around to leave. "No biting."

The door panel slides with a soft hum, locking shut. And the silence, and the waiting, and the mind numbing monotony is back again.

[hairmetal666]

3 Times Eddie has a Secret + 1 Time Steve Does

I.

Erica Sinclair wants to throw a Valentine's Day party, and woe betide anyone coming between Erica and an idea. Eddie's happy to show up, spend some time with the kids, Robin, and Steve (though he's with the latter pair all the time), and mostly doesn't think much about it. That is until, two weeks out, Max shows up at his trailer with that look on her face, and he knows he's in for it, though he's not sure why.

He gives her a little bow. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Max?"

"You're going to Erica's party, Munson." Her hands go to her hips and her brow pinches. It's such a Steve Harrington pose it knocks something loose in Eddie's chest. "And you aren't going to say one word about conformists and sheep."

He rolls his eyes, sighs hard. "I'm surprised at you, Mayfield. Didn't have you pegged as a candy hearts type of gal."

"It's for Erica." The tip of her sneaker scuffs at the earth. "And Lucas likes it."

Eddie bites his lip to stifle his smile. They're so fucking cute.

"I suppose I can put in an appearance."

"And be on your best behavior?"

"Scout's Honor."

"You weren't a scout," she grumbles.

"Nope. But still. I'll do it for Little Sinclair."

It shouldn't bother him, the assumption that he'd be a shit about Valentine's Day. He's worked really hard to cultivate an image and it doesn't exactly scream "Be Mine." And yes, yeah, sure, the Munson Doctrine doesn't go in for the holiday, and his cynical heart blah-blah-blah. It's just that. Well, he sort of enjoys the love part.

And later that night, in the safety of his dark bedroom, he acknowledges that he wouldn't mind having a date on Valentine's Day. It would be--well, it would be nice to have someone buy him flowers or chocolates, or even--ugh--a gross, sappy, sentimental card. He wants to have reservations at Enzo's, wants to go see a terrible romcom after, wants to go home and fall into bed with the person he loves. And it isn't metal, or even very cool, but he wants to be showered with affection, celebrated, fucking loved.

He wants so much his entire body aches with it.

II.

Eddie's at Family Video, rifling through the candy that he knows Steve just reorganized.

"What are you looking for, Munson?" Robin asks. She's half-engrossed in the paperwork in front of her.

Eddie's half listening, watching Steve re-shelve New Releases. He's focused on the VHSs in his arms, so Eddie has ample opportunity to admire the bunch and stretch of his shoulder muscles as he reaches to the top of the wall.

"I don't know," he nibbles on his lip. "Something that's not so," he wiggles his hand through the air.

"Romantic?" She guesses.

"No," he shakes his head. "I mean--"

"You mean?" She's focused on him now, must have caught him watching Steve, and he hopes she doesn't make it a big deal.

"Something," he says. "Um. Just something different."

And what he means is a movie for a guy like him where love doesn't have to be a distant dream. Where he can have feelings for someone and it isn't potentially dangerous.

So, he smiles and shrugs. Grabs the tape closest to his hand. "Guess I'll just take this."

"Well, this is definitely different, Eddie," she says. She narrows her eyes at him, like he's a new language she's learning, but he scampers out before she can say anything.

The movie he grabbed without looking is Cocoon and he can't even pretend interest, so he's not exactly disappointed when someone knocks at his door a few hours later. He's expecting Max, maybe Steve, but startles a little at Robin. She pushes past him and into the trailer.

"Good to see you too, Buckley."

She ignores him. "I have something to tell you. You and Steve are the only people who know."

"Okay?" His eyes are so wide it kind of hurts.

She takes a deep breath. "I'm gay."

"What?" He shrieks, doesn't know why. He's always kind of known.

Robin responds by swatting at him, and they bat at one another with the tips of their fingers.

"Nancy?" He asks once they calm down.

"Shut-up," Robin flushes a dark red.

"It's the guns right?"

It's her turn to shriek, and she gets a solid punch in on his shoulder. They wrestle around, until Eddie pulls away, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead.

"I'm--" he's never said the words to another person. Uncle Wayne just sort of knew and you don't really have to talk at any of the bars he goes to in Indy. "I'm gay too," he tells Robin.

She beams at him. "Cool."

"Cool." He fiddles with his rings. "Harrington knows about you?"

"He was the first person I told."

"You aren't going to tell him about me?"

She leans her head on his shoulder. "Of course not. But he'd be okay, if you wanted to tell him."

He can't help but scoff. "It's different for lesbians, Buckley. Straight guys can be into that."

She scoffs right back. "Steve isn't like that and you know it."

She's right. He does. But the fear runs deep. Especially especially because it's Steve. And Eddie couldn't handle any of things that might happen if Robin is wrong.

"Thanks, Bucks," he says. He leans his head against hers, hugs her close.

III.

Erica's party is happening at Steve's and Eddie shows up at the appointed time, with the appointed cupcakes (baked from a box, frosted from a can).

The kids are shouting in the living room, but his eyes automatically find Steve in the kitchen. He has a a towel draped over his shoulder, hair disheveled, and is mixing Tropical Punch and Sprite into a serving bowl.

"How'd you end up hosting?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles, a bashful little thing. "Erica called me this morning and yelled until I agreed."

"Pushover," Eddie teases.

"Oh, and you just made those cupcakes for fun, Munson?"

"Shut-up, Harrington." Eddie knocks their shoulders together. "They're ugly as shit. Didn't know there was an art to frosting cupcakes."

"I think I can help. You mind?"

Steve grabs some plastic spatula looking thing, gets to work with a focused determination that has him biting at his lip. Heat kicks in Eddie's blood, makes it so he can't watch. Instead, he slides a finger into the icing.

"Hey! What--? Munson!" Steve yells, as Eddie brushes the pink frosting onto Steve's cheekbone.

"Got ya!" He dances out of reach.

They bob and weave and dodge through the kitchen, laughing and yelling, until Steve has Eddie pressed against the cabinets, no escape. They're close, breathing hard and pink-faced. He can't help glancing down at the plush softness of Steve's mouth, can't help noticing Steve's eyes track the movement. Time pauses, stutters, and the distance between them closes.

"Steve!" Dustin shouts. "What's taking so long?"

The tension breaks and Eddie escapes into the living room, desperate to convince himself it wasn't a moment, that Steve isn't interested. Wishes his heart was a little more cynical, after all.

The party is fun. There are games and snacks and crafts. He gets roped into playing Mystery Date and tries and fails to not notice Steve bent over, playing Twister, left hand on red, right hand on green.

When they start doing crafts, Steve is hard at work on a Valentine.

"What you making, Stevie?" Eddie asks. He cranes his neck to see.

"Back off, Munson."

"Got someone you've been admiring, big boy?"

Steve goes pink and Eddie can't tell if it's the nickname or his question.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

And since Eddie really, really would, he jumps towards Steve, trying to sneak a peek. Steve laughs, hard and kind of surprised, before hunching over the card.

"None of your business, Eddie." But Steve is flushed and smiling.

Eddie pouts. "You know how much I love knowing things."

Steve looks at him. Like, looks at him, and Eddie goes warm all over.

"Maybe if you're a good boy today, you'll get to know later, yeah?"

Good boy does things. It makes Eddie's heart stop, his breathing slow, re-routes all the blood in his body south. He can only gasp and nod, sure his eyes are weirdly glazed.

Good boy. He's not sure if he hears another word spoken to him for the rest of the day.

IV.

The party draws to a close. For once in their lives, the actual parents are driving their kids around and Robin hitches a ride with the Hopper-Byers, leaving Eddie and Steve on clean-up.

"Wanna stick around, Munson? Watch a movie? Think I have a joint leftover from last week."

"Course, Stevie, how could I say no to such a generous offer."

"I think you're making fun of me, but I don't understand why."

Eddie laughs. "Totally genuine, sweetheart. Cross my heart." Steve smiles at that, his eyes turning the color of honey.

Eddie is so, so fucked.

They get situated on the couch and Steve says, "Have you been good today?"

"Huh?" Eddie can't breathe.

"I said you could see what I was making if you were good today. Were you?"

Eddie can't speak, can't think, can't move. His brain is throbbing. This has to be a dream. No way Steve is actually asking that.

But Steve is looking at him and somehow he has the presence of mind to fucking nod, and then Steve is handing him a red construction paper heart and a rose with petals so purple they're almost black.

He's hallucinating. That's what this is. He got some laced weed and now his wildest fantasy is playing out in his head.

The Valentine has a white lace doily thing glued to it and it says, in glitter:

"Roses are red,

Violets are Blue;

Eddie Munson,

I really like you"

His eyes fall on Steve. He perceives him, the way a pink flush sits high on his cheekbones, the shine in his eyes, the tremble in his hands.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Eddie isn't hallucinating. He's not dreaming. He's--

"Steve," he sounds a wreck.

"It's--Eddie, it's okay if you don't like me back. I just--I've liked you for a while and Robin thought I should tell you, and--"

"Steve," he says again, stands this time. "Can I kiss you?" It's a miracle he gets the words out.

"God, yes, please," Steve nearly whines.

Eddie pulls him in close, slotting their mouths together. Steve tastes like Tropical Punch and frosting and he makes a little noise as Eddie nips at his lip.

And that's it, that's all it takes. Eddie is gone, ruined, Valentine's celebrator until the end of time, lost forever to Steve-goddamn-Harrington.

[darlingbabyboo]

I saw this and wrote it in, like, 30 minutes (which means I didn't even double check it lol)!!! Anyways, Mikey has a bit of a unique way of dealing with his son and food (and the reader is called mom and referred to as a wife).

Fatherly Love

The rumours true: the best way to a man's heart is food. At least, it's true for your boys.

It's common for your son and his father to connect with food. Whether they're watching a movie, playing in the park (or with Manjiro's motorcycle, which you swear will bring you to a heart attack). When they're together and food's not in one of their hands, you'd think that something was wrong or some alien doppelganger had taken and replaced them.

Maybe you should have observed their interactions a bit closer, because while both boys instinct is food in my mouth right now, your son's only four, and naivety is also a big problem for him.

You lean against the doorway and watch your son and Manjiro with one part amusement and a bigger annoyance.

"Okay bud, you know the routine by now, right?" Manjiro says solemnly. Your son, Kenji, returns the solemn look (though, the effect is a bit lessened with his big doe eyes).

"So," Your husband claps his hand and grabs your son's bowl, "I'm sorry bud, but this is the way that things gotta be."

Kenji nods furiously, "I know papa! I don't wanna have any poison in my tummy!"

Manjiro nods, acting like he's actually doing something instead of taking advantage of his young son's innocence., "yep, I've gotta do my part to protect you. I'm glad you understand."

"I do!" Kenji exclaims. Your son wraps his pudgy hands around his father's pant-clad legs and watches his father in wonder.

His father who opens his mouth and takes a big bite out of his son's taiyaki, leaving behind only the tail. You feel one of your vein's burst. It's a miracle that you're still standing after all the ridiculous things that you've been put through.

"Manjiro," You yell. For a minute, you reconsider getting angry when he turns his eyes to you. You're still so hopelessly in love with him. Then, you look at the tail in your son's hands and the anger is already running through yout blood. "What's is wrong with you. Our son needs to eat if he's supposed to grow!"

You move from the doorway to in front of Manjiro and your son. Standing in front of them, Mikey pouts up at you. You wonder where it said that you were going to get two children instead of one after Kenji came into you and your husband's life. "It's not like that." Your husband whines, "I'm just making sure that Kenji stays safe."

"Yeah, papa says 'at he needs to eat all my food so 'at I stay safe." Kenji rushes to defend his father.

You shake your head, your poor naive stupid son. You cross your arms, "Kenji, your father's lying to get your food. There's no poison."

Your son whips his head to Manjiro and drops his jaw, "papa, what???" His bottom lip starts to tremble, "you a liar." He whispers with so much heartbreak that you feel bad for barely containing your laughter. Your son doesn't use the word liar often and is unused to saying it. It's a little funny how he he stumbled through the word to direct his anger at his father.

Manjiro winces at his son's accusation and rubs the back of his neck, "well..."

You roll your eyes and lean to pat your son's head. "Let's get ice cream Kenny, without your liar of a father."

"What!" Mikey exclaims. You ignore him pick up your son.

You stick out your tongue, "you get what you get you liar."

[bakiuwu]

Kinda crazy how the crossover proves why there shouldn't have been one in the first place. Baki and kengen are very different but constantly get grouper together. Like yea, there might be a few similarities/references when it comes to kengen with baki, but like they are both so different, especially for them to take place in the same universe. Like the shit with pickle, so no one on the kengan side heard of pickle even tho everyone in the world was aware of his existence????

There's just so many things wrong with that crossover Like can't get over the fact these mfs barely interact with eachother, everyone's fucking personality was water down and mfs were just cardboard cut outs OR MISCHARACTERIZE SO FUCKING BAD LIKE JACK AND SOME OTHERS, LIKE THEY WAYER DOWN SO MANY BITCHES ITS NOT FUNNY ESPECIALLY JUN like I don't know much about kengan characters but i know DAMN WELL his ass would had been more active then what he was honestly same for everyone.

Like imagine after he said "thoes guys are scary looking" he would follow it up with ".....im go talk to them" then proceed to go over there IDK SOMETHING LIKE he coukd had try placing a bet on who said is gonna win....idk katou could had join in on it THEN THEY ALL COULD HAD INTRO THEMSELVES TO EACHOTHER AND GIVE INTRESTING COMENTSRY MAN IDK I JUST WANTED THESE FUCKERS TO ACTUALLY TALK TO EACHOTHER BUT WAIT THAG ACTUALLY REQUIRES CHARACTER WRITING. It's like Netflix didn't know how to handle two big groups of characters who all have big personalities so they just said fuck it and Sedated everyone.

Another thing....how come characters of the same series weren't interacting with each other??? Like doppo was just off by himself same for shibakuwa...like why and nobody talking to baki like at ALL was very odd to me its like if characters were assigned a role they wasnt allowed to interact with another character outside that role, like how come doppo wasn't sitting with katsumi and the others???....how come katsumi didn't interact with saw ping that would been interesting because ya know both of their dads fought.....but no know of tha....nothing for this to be a crossover bitches weren't really crossing over...I'm sorry but nobody talking to baki really bothers me

Also kinda crazy how the movie did the two things I BEG TO NOT HAPPEN LIKE WTF

the sence with kurhea and the other guy was kinda funny but annoying cause the movie link them together cause they're both doctors....okay and? Theyre still too very different characters....also really they went to med school together....okay that's it, AND YOU DONT SEE THEM AGAIN. WHAT WAS THE POINT. I thought they was gonna to be helping heal people, like there could have been a funny scene of them fighting over who's way the best way of healing a patient...idk man.

Oliva and Julius moments were funny but also annoyed me when I found out they was pair together due to them both using brute strength....like okay

Shibakuwa and the one guy interactions were werid, he was so out of character LIKE WHY WAS HE ANNOYED BY HIM LIKE WTF ALSO REALLY THERE INTERACING BECAUSE OF AKI

Gaia and fucking M's moments were..... disappointing asf, they mischaracterize tf outta gaia like???? SO GAIA WHOLE THING IS SCREAMINF HUH? THATS WHAT YAL GOT FROM HIM LIKE WTF MADE YALL THINK THE FIRST THING HE WOULD DO WAS SCREAM AT A GUY HE IS AWAERE IS FUCKING BLIND ARE YOU DEAD ASS LIKE?????

ALSO WHY ARE THEY SECURITY, ALSO WOWWWW THEY ARE PAIR TOGETHER BECAUSE THEY BOTH DEAL WITH MILTARY SHIT WOOOOOWWW SO CREATIVE

*sigh* I think the most disappointing one was baki and ohma I wanted them to be silly besties so bad but Netflix literally gave me nothing ALL THEY DID WAS STARE AT EACHOTHER AND LOOK AWAY LIKE WHERE WAS THE FUNNY MOMENTZ LIKE WTF, ALSO THE "your just like me" FUCK OFF YALL GAVE THESE TWO NOTHING

How did yall fumble these interactions so bad....also Jack being water-down to "guy who does drugs".....really piss me off and the fact they couldnt make a original fight for him and raian says alot like they fucked him over so bad....im not over this.

The movie was made to fucking quick it need more time and actually writing before being released. It's also so clear how they didn't want to hurt anyone's fucking feelings so they made sure it was only 3 fights so it could be fair and end on a fuck ass draw.....bullshit like I was hoping to GOD it would end on everyone going to eat but nope....nothing

Also, pickle being there was so???? Unneeded like It felt out of place like the moment between him and ohma was kinda cute but like okay? After that he just left and no one from kengan seem...to give a fuck tha he was a caveman/ seem to notice....okay

ALSO im sure this takes place after the father and son fight (cause they reference the face baki made during his fight with yujiro) so having pickle interrupted the fight was so????? Especially if he learn his manners when baki scold him for trying to interrupted his......hmm a

Also yujiros moment felt a little off cause like don't get me wrong, his moments were fun, but like the way he just left cause him and the guy got screamed at for "ruining"the fun like???? IT was funny but so rushed, also him knowing the niko style..."So you're the one that guy he taught that style to." okay....also, his interactions with the other guy were weak as shit

Last thing....this shit....

PISSED ME OFF SO BAD AT FCUJING FIRST I WAS HAPPY VERY HAPPY BUT THEN WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT......THIS DOENSNT MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE ITS LIKE THEY JUST PUT THEM JN TIT JUST TO PUT THEM IN IT OMFG WHA WAS THE POINT??? LIKE SPEC IS CANONLY IN A FUCKIN COMA, DORIAN IS NOT MENTALLY THERE SO WHO TF BROKE HIM OUT, WHEN TF DID DOLYE BREAK OUT??? THE ONLY ONES WHO ARE CANONLY OUT ARE SKIORSKY AND YANGI BUT EVEB THEN WHY WOULD THEY FUCKING GROUP UP??? JUST TO FIGHT THIS GUY ALSO....REALLY PAIRIG UP THE GUY WHO IS ALL ABOUT JUSTICE WHITH THE CONVICTS WOWWWWW HOW CREATIVE.....omfg this is so stupid also WHY SKIORSKY AND DORIAN THE DAME HEIGHT AS SPEC???. LIKE DUDE

(Like a small part of this is funny cause they dont have a clue in the world skiorsky is living hjs besr life in a small apartment with his boyfriend, also like to imagine skiorsky was here cause he was picking up gaia.....)

yea ....it took me less then 24 hours that day to realize how much I hated this shit

[st4r-bby]

hi!! this is my first req but i was wondering if you could write something about jack champion having feelings for actress!reader who plays as his love interest on scream? like everyone knows he likes her but her and he doesnt know what to do because they are best friends? just lots of fluff

AMAZING IDEA ANON!

movie : none really but they both play in scream 6 together

character / person : jack champion

pairing : !shy-ish jack x !actress reader

contains : fluff, lots of fluff, fluff that rots your teeth, jack being head over heels for the reader, reader being oblivious.

both y/n and jack were actors in the new scream movie, jack played ethan landry and y/n played (whatever name) as his love interest. one of the scenes in the movie is when y/n has to kiss jack. jack tells mason and now they're yelling at each other in jacks trailer.

"but mason!" jack squeaks, "i don't wanna hear it. it's just a peck anyways." mason says, "but it's y/n! i'm her best friend, she's mine, i have a crush on her, she doesn't have one on me! it's going to crush me when we kiss!" jack starts whining. mason rolls his eyes, "come on, it's not that big of a deal." jack clears his throat dramatically, "yes it is! and you do not tell jenna about this or i'll stab you in real life too."

mason gives him a confused look. "i read the whole script." mason rolls his eyes again. "jenna already knows you like y/n, everyone does!" jacks eyes widen and he yells, "WHAT?!" mason covers his ears slightly, "yeah!" jacks jaw drops, he looks flabbergasted. "EVEN Y/N??" mason laughs, "everyone expect y/n. somehow." jack lets out a huff of relief. "good, i don't want y/n to know.." they hear the door to jacks trailer open and shut. "you don't want me to know what?" y/n says, confused while carrying a box of dunkin donuts.

"oh and i brought dunkin." she opens the box showing all kinds of donuts. while jack is sitting there shocked at her timing, mason runs to the box and grabs a chocolate one, praising y/n for it. y/n smiles at mason then looks at jack, waiting for an answer she tilts her head. any other person would've moved on, but jack, jack thinks that was one of the cutest things she's ever done.

"oh.. uhm.. well.. you.." jack rambles, not finding the right words to say. y/n laughs, making his heart skip a beat. she grabs his favorite kind of donut, walks up to him, and shoves some into his mouth to shut him up. "okay, okay pretty boy. i get it, you don't want me to know. just eat the donut." after she calls him that, he feels blood rushing up to his face already. he eats the donut she shoved into his mouth and she smiles. "good boy!" she pats his head.

mason looks at them both and smirks, he grabs two more donuts and leaves the trailer silently. y/n sits down on a chair and messes with things in his trailer. "interesting trailer, j." she spins around. "you know why i'm here right?" he shakes his head, not being able to speak after those names she called him. "we have to rehearse the kiss scene remember? the directors changed it up a little and said it shouldn't be a peck and it should just be a longer kiss." he curses at the directors in his head but just nods.

she gets up and walks up to him, "so it goes a bit like this.." she grabs his hands and puts them on her waist then she takes her own hands and puts them on his cheeks. "and then we kiss for like five seconds." she smiles. jacks heart skips a bit and he thought he stopped breathing for a while but they both pulled in and they kiss.

y/n would consider it amazing, jack considered it being on cloud 9. they pull away after five whole seconds and she smiles at him. "wow jack, i didn't expect that to be as great as that was." somehow jack gained the confidence to speak again, "can we.. do it again?" he gets embarrassed and y/n realizes what's going on. "jack.. if you want to kiss me as y/n and not (characters name) you could've just said so." she smiles and they pull in for another kiss, and many more after that.

okay i admit this was kinda good- BUT THE BEST IDEA CONGRATS ANON

[nartml]

Toothless (and generally most dragons) lost all his personality in thw.

Gone was the loyal, protective, intelligent, curious, silly, expressive, understanding, and sassy/snarky dragon we adored more and more through each new installment in the franchise.

Who is this puppy in thw and what did he do to Toothless?

Look me in the eye and tell me that if anyone, dragon or not, was to pluck Hiccup off his back and send him into the ocean to die, they wouldn't get a minimum of two blasts in the face.

Yes, Toothless is playful and silly and adorable, but only around the people/dragons he trusts, and especially around Hiccup specifically.

Otherwise, his guard is up, he is wary, and he himself has to evaluate whether or not someone is safe to be around.

"Hey, I guess Dean dumbed him down because he wanted to show the effects of domestication—"

Woah there, big words.

Domestication? The definition of domestication is "the process of taming an animal and keeping it as a pet or on a farm".

That is not what's happening on Berk.

Dragons were never pets to humans. (If anything, humans were their pets.)

They stood by the Vikings' sides out of their own volition, and were free to come and go as they pleased.

We see this clearly in GoTNF.

They wouldn't let a human they didn't trust so much as touch them, let alone allow them anywhere near their backs.

They are the ones that choose their riders, or if they even want one, not the other way around.

And they weren't exactly "tamed" either. Or rather, nobody tried to alter their nature and innate instincts.

In RoB, we clearly see that Vikings are the ones who adjust, who adapt accordingly, because dragons are gonna do what dragons do.

And those instincts of theirs were honed. They weren't tamed, they were trained.

The notion that wild dragons are more powerful because they're wild makes no sense to me, because while wild dragons have raw power and raw instinct, trained dragons arguably have more than that.

They learn to work with other dragons, and they're able to pull off some incredible moves, because their bodies are, well, consistently trained.

They go on dangerous missions on the regular, for fuck's sake. During which, they also have to think. The dragons aren't told what to do, nor are they steered by their riders constantly (and when they are, the dragons trust them to do so)

They can take the reins as well (and when they do, the riders trust them to do so), but most of the time, they both move together in sync, understanding what, and how it, needs to be done.

In what world would such a lifestyle weaken them, or threaten to erase their aforementioned instincts?

I don't get Dean's point.

And Hiccup? What's up with the poor decision making?

Because I know damn well Hiccup wouldn't let dragons take over Berk to the point where, within the first ten minutes of the movie , half of it collapses. An event which apparently everyone is used to, because nobody worries about it.

He put an ocean between Garff and a couple of dragons because of how incompatible they were, in terms of needs and way of life.

He relocated dragons constantly, so as not to overcrowd and/or to protect the Edge.

Even when he was, what, 15 in RoB/DoB, he was mindful of the way he handled situations, to ensure Berk and the Vikings wouldn't be overwhelmed with dragons.

He understood that it's impossible for thousands of dragons to cohabitate with humans, and with each other, peacefully and without chaos.

Not to mention, he respected dragon culture and understood that some spaces were not made for the human eye. He made such a big deal about revering Vanaheim, and you expect me to believe he'd be okay with just exposing a place called The Hidden World, a delicate draconic paradise?

And wow, way to go, let's uproot the ENTIRE village, and go searching for this place that we don't even know for sure exists? Yes, very responsible.

And why not just make a life-changing call without consulting anyone, or thinking it through, based on what you alone think is best, while you're at it? Sounds like a great idea.

It's not like in previous installments he always made sure to have a team huddle to discuss (or at least inform the group of) their next move, even in the tightest of spots and with the littlest time; no, of course not.

His leadership abilities, his tactical and strategic thinking, his caution, his conviction and determination? Gone. Erased.

Who is this guy in thw and what did he do to Hiccup?

And as for Toothless and Hiccup's dynamic in this movie, something that Astrid said bugs me to an unfathomable degree.

"You gave him his freedom back, what did you expect?"

Woah there, big talk.

This paints a horribly ugly picture. It makes Toothless seem like he'd been held captive by Hiccup, that if he could've flown on his own, he would never have stuck around this long.

Which, much like the rest of this movie, is a load of horseshit.

Toothless is just as free, if not free-er than, as the rest of the dragons. Because while all dragons love and trust their riders, and vice versa, nobody has a connection quite like Toothless and Hiccup (save for perhaps Valka and Cloudjumper).

Toothless could've been flying on his own for a long, long time now. But he didn't want it. He was vehemently opposed to the idea.

Why? Because to him, flying was no longer worth it if Hiccup wasn't right there with him. Because Hiccup took the loneliness out of flying. Because Toothless wanted nothing more than to be by Hiccup's side. Hiccup was the one that made flying worth it.

A major theme of this movie is learning to fly on your own. Toothless had to learn how to fly without Hiccup, and Hiccup had to learn how to fly without Toothless (I mean, personally I'd rather them remaining inseparable soulmates that are mildly codependent. I recognize it's not necessarily the healthiest dynamic, but fuck if I care)

Toothless did this through meeting his mate, and falling in love (no matter how horribly written and designed she is, and no matter how I personally would've preferred for the Hicctooth bromance to remain undisturbed).

He met a creature that he wanted to follow and be alone with, a creature that made flying alone, with nobody on his back, worth it.

And more importantly, Hiccup had to realize that he's not who he is because he has Toothless, and subsequently the dragons. It's the opposite.

This is growth, and the realization that they don't need each other is important.

But why the fuck does that mean they have to say goodbye?

I don't need most of the people in my life. That doesn't mean I don't want them here.

The point was that Hiccup doesn't need Toothless in order to be someone.

Not that he didn't need Toothless, period.

(Even if the point was simply that he didn't need Toothless, which I could concede to, that again doesn't mean that Toothless had to leave, and take the entire dragon population with him.

To me, that sends a message of "if you don't need them, then they gotta go".

It's not what outgrowing a friendship looks like, despite the fact that many people choose to interpret it as such.

Sure, this movie shows what outgrowing a friendship is; if outgrowing a friendship means making room in your life for other people. If outgrowing a friendship means you found romance. Which is ridiculous.)

___________________

To further clarify:

I am well aware the shows aren't canon.

This, however, doesn't change the fact that all these series tie in with HTTYD 2 really well, and that they make sense.

They expand on the characters and give us a better grasp of the world in httyd. They allow us to understand everything better.

When you only have, at most, 150 minutes to tell a story, every minute of it needs to somehow add to the plot. To further the narrative. There is very little time for fluff.

In a movie, it's practically impossible to properly explore the characters' different dynamics, to give everyone their own arc, to let the audience bask in the slow moments and to let the characters just be.

In a series, however? Well. You've definitely got time.

For someone who only watched the movies, it would be pretty damn difficult to understand the mis-characterization in say, Snotlout, Fishlegs and the twins.

You don't know these characters that well. You don't know the well-established dynamics between the gang in the same way that someone who's watched the series does.

Which is exactly why I think that people who've watched them are the ones that dislike the hidden world the most.

I, too, am usually opposed to using non-canon material to make a point, but RoB, DoB and RTTE are the only spin-off series from a successful movie franchise I can name that make perfect sense. That succeed in accurately portraying the main cast, in realistically expanding on the secondary characters (like Fishlegs, Snotlout, and the twins, who now have the space to become part of the main cast), and in smoothly integrating new characters.

They also manage to beautifully explore this magical universe full of dragons, adventure, and mystery, while firmly establishing the dragons as an important part of ecosystems all around.

Whether it's subconscious or not, they create an unshakable image of how all the characters think, act, and interact. You spend a hell of a lot longer with the characters in a lengthy eight season series than in two movies.

But it's not a bad thing, because this image carved by the series fits in nicely with the image carved in all the canon installments of the franchise.

Well. Except for one, cough cough.

[guardian5tiger3]

Pick a Group Tarot Reading (general, what do you need to know?)

1. 2. 3.

Group 1 -

You guys need to know someone's getting karma. For some of you it's family, some of you some type of thief , maybe both. Something about someone cutting hair as a confirmation. Also corn? Flipping the script. Movies. Bacon. Someone's hand. A foul mouth or maybe someone says that. Something about a movie star or maybe you want to be one or that's what you should shoot for if you do , or that may be someone's destiny ?. I'm channeling someone's dog and the dog is really chubby and short. A lot of you might be falling in love, a few of you someone's falling in love with you, but if anything I see it being mutual. Some of you had your hearts broken not too long ago. Let that go , for that group, a few of you I still sense some resentment or something. Maybe they deserve it but they'll get karma trust. Even if you don't realize it's that serious. They're gonna get karma big or small. Your resentment is half intuitive , let the universe take that on though, you don't need to . The best revenge is to go be happy and fall for someone mutually who does deserve you, ok. I'm also seeing a lot about the fall . And snow. So those seasons are special somehow. Maybe next late fall is important . Someone's gonna move to a house at that time. I'm picking up on a lot about different new pets that you will consider family if you're the type to you will have a few new family members eventually. A new car. I keep picking up on work but I haven't got anything about that but it seems that that is probably how that's going to manifest. I'll keep in mind to do a career specific reading today or soon ! Keep in mind if this resonates it resonates, this reading got narrowed down a lot by the end of it. And the last part is only a confirmation for some few that it's genuinely reasonable, it will manifest for, and is only a confirmation to them to not worry and they will know who they are. Alright, there's a chance the person that you fall with is responsible for this! But you'll intuitively feel that if it's accurate. ;)

Group 2 -

You guys definitely need to relax, recharge , destress. Maybe you're forcing something somehow. When really you'll go way further with whatever it might be if you just take this time for yourself to do that okay. I know, I've been there, maybe even deal with myself refusing to chill out weekly lol. It's alright, I know it's difficult to surrender to the universe, especially when what you're going for you dont feel like you can relax until you've attained it. But it's seeming like relaxing is exactly how you're gonna get it when you hop back into this in whatever way, quickest and easiest. I know for example when I play video games for some reason if I take a few minutes to chill out and then get back to it I literally recharge and end up beating the level I was struggling on. This is a good time to focus on your own thoughts and mentalities and work with yourself. Trust me I know this might be frustrating for some of you cause.. it takes one to know one. Just try your best to chill ok. Go for some entertainment maybe. Sometimes I forget how nice it is to just lay in bed or take a hot a** shower... So maybe try to brainstorm/ remember something that genuinely mellows you out and you enjoy . Peace peace you guys. & Take care.

Group 3 -

I'm initially channeling a white dog, Also lightning and thunder. Forest animals. An owl. Butterflies. Flowers. Third eye. A crystal on a third eye? Some of you may be sad ... Could be something regarding a parent or parenting. A few of you few uncomfortable in your bodies but this is totally brainwash and you're beautiful and deep down you know that. Someone's kids have no filter and maybe are mean to them omg . You need to respect yourself for who you are. There's a masculine figure in your life yet or not, that loves you a lot and sees all beauty in you. And maybe because of how you feel you doubt them but you should listen to them if they say, they're telling the honest truth about how they feel and think. One of you there's a dude with anger issues that's not who I'm talking about violence is never acceptable he can go work out or something to get that out ok. Anyway I keep picking up that for a lot of you you should eat what you want. Something about cheese. Like if you're dealing with some eating stuff somehow for whatever reason I'm supposed to suggest to you to really taste your food, like ratatouille did if you ever saw that movie, and don't wait until you're starving to eat. Get snacks in too . Drink more liquids, if digestion is an issue ,try different drinks that might help and see what works. Someone has a kid in diapers don't smack your kid you don't need to hit someone for them to know. Or yell .You need to connect with them on a deeper level and communicate with them knowing they're smart and can grasp it, believe it or not, intellectually. Kids can teach you a lot, you have to be open to it, and open to trying different things. And if they don't know something yet, you must teach them. But for you, watch out, spirit sees you, learn more patience and become more conscious about this, one day your kid will grow up and have a mind completely of their own and they will judge you how they see fit. Anyway if you're a parent here, I assume a majority of you are, either way a young kid in your lives are here as teachers , and you should listen to them and take stuff in you might not notice if you're distracted or just looking at them like they're a young minded kiddo. Some of them are ancestors, one of you knows a kid and they are from somewhere off in space, that's how I saw that literally, a different star was their sun. This kid might seem spacey sometimes , they're wise. Very cool stuff. Also something about skateboarding. Maybe I should tell you , something about the concepts of being open minded, trying new things , breaking traditions, having fun and taking risks. Learning new philosophies. Libraries. Someone knows a older kid who plays Minecraft and Roblox. Some other games? That's a good kid and make sure you are a stable figure in their life and are there for them and a good example all the time, they look up to you and it seems like they need something from you. Pay attention!