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alectoperdita · 2 years

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i’m watching love between fairy and devil on netflix. i do think kaiba should be cursed to be nice to jounouchi and nurture his heart and feel his emotions and fall in love with him because he’s learned to be a human being again in jounouchi’s presence. i want a thousand fics just like that

I just looked up the synopsis for that one, and oh boy! Patricide? Forced psychic/mystical bond? On top of everything else you described? That is one delicious setup for this ship. <3

Gotta admit reading that did inspire me a bit. I didn't have time to watch the show itself (will maybe give it a try when I have the time to read subtitles), but I took a stab at writing a short drabble inspired by that premise. I'm sorry if I've missed the mark due to my unfamiliarity with the original source material, but I hope it entertains you.

Flower imagery, classical Chinese poetry, and plenty of footnotes ahead.

🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻

The Moon Supreme.

What a pompous title for a pompous blowhard.

With a name like Kaiba, he should've been one of the Dragon King's retinue. But otherwise, the epithet was a fitting one for the ethereal being—cold, distant, and unfeeling. And if the legends bore truth, a cold-blooded killer down to his core.

All that stood between the tall, imperious creature and the destruction of the Three Realms was Katsuya. Plain, old Katsuya, the lowest of the blossom xians [1]. While the others of his kin bore heads of lovely reds and blues and purples, as vibrant as plum, peony, irises in bloom, his hair was colored yellow like wheat.

Hay-head, the other blossom xians had mocked him in their youths.

Nor was he delicate and slim-limbed. His arms were sturdy as tree trunks, his palm as broad as lotus pads. His face, perhaps handsome enough for mortals, didn't carry the same dignified features that greater painters drove themselves into a frenzy to capture.

Hardly beautiful.

A xian in mere name.

His temper flared. He kicked a stray stone into the pond, disrupting the reflection that gazed up from the water.

"You're moping." A deep voice piped next to him.

Katsuya jumped and spun to face the intruder that dared to impinge on his solitary reflection. Speak of the devil. Kaiba loomed, a lanky monolith in his ice blue hanfu, in the shadow of the nearby willow tree. The slender vines and verdant leaves swayed in the warm breeze. The same wind ruffled Kaiba's chestnut locks, pulling back the curtain of long bangs to bear his ocean blue eyes.

The verse rose within Katsuya's mind, unbidden.

"Green, green, the riverside grass, Dense, dense, the garden willow." [2]

Kaiba arched an elegant brow at the sudden couplet, but he answered with the next lines.

"Dainty is the maiden upstairs, Shining bright through the window." [3]

Just as quickly, Katsuya's mood soured again. Dainty maidens, his ass.

Kaiba winced. A grimace cracking the flawless marble of his handsome face.

Faintly, Katsuya wondered how the man processed those feelings of inadequacies that didn't belong to him. A superior asshole like Kaiba probably never felt deficient, even before he sacrificed his ability to feel emotions. But he pinned Katsuya as moping before, so he learned enough to put a name to that feeling.

Perhaps their time together wasn't a complete waste. Kaiba could learn, however slowly. But would it be enough to stave off his thirst for vengeance?

He turned his back on Kaiba, bending down to sort through the stones on the rocky banks. Kaiba hung back, safe from the mortal realm's sun under the willow tree's protection. It took a few seconds, but Katsuya finally found a suitable flat stone. He wound his arm back, throwing all his strength into launching the stone across the water's surface. It skipped no less than a dozen times before sinking into the center of the sizable pond.

Pride bloomed in Katsuya's chest before it withered twice as quickly.

That finally spurred Kaiba into action.

Katsuya listened as the man stomped forward, grabbed his elbow, and hauled him to his feet. Soon, he was dragging him away from the riverbed and uphill toward a grassy knoll.

Katsuya fought. But even his strength failed when matched up against the Moon Supreme's stubbornness. "What are you doing? Lemme go!"

Kaiba did not let him go. He seemed intent on bodily dragging Katsuya, if it came down to it.

"Where are you taking me?" he snarled.

This time, Katsuya threw a punch with his free hand. It collided solidly with Kaiba's shoulder, and had he been something other than a cold-blooded bastard, it would've hurt. But as it was, he merely shrugged off the hit.

"To the city. To feed you. Distract your simple mind with simple amusements. Whatever needs to be done to rid you of this wretched malaise," Kaiba spat out past his gritted teeth.

"Leave me alone. Maybe I wanna mope. Maybe I want you to feel as bad as I do!" he shouted.

With teeth bared, Kaiba stopped and spun toward him. He dropped his inhuman grip to Katsuya's wrist and squeezed. Were Katsuya not divine or weaker in constitution, it would've crushed his bones. Instead, his wrists twinged.

"As long as I'm stuck with you—as long as we're entangled like this—I'll do what I must. You don't get a choice," snapped Kaiba.

Katsuya glared back. He supposed if another of his kin were subjected to this, they'd burst into tears. He'd do no such thing, though. "You still don't get it, do you? You can't just force people out of their bad moods. You can't just snap your fingers and make them feel better. Especially when the only reason you're trying is for your own sake!"

Theirs was a wretched arrangement. It may be Kaiba's curse, but Katsuya was being no less punished for it. It wasn't fair.

Everyone expected Katsuya to fail. That hurt more than anything.

Never being enough.

His pain sharpened. Kaiba grunted and dropped his hand like hot coal. Katsuya hugged his wrists close and sank to the ground again.

He stared at the grass, heaving heavy breaths. "You think I wanna feel like this? You think I enjoy this?"

Kaiba said nothing. His feet remained locked in place on the periphery of Katsuya's vision. "Then why won't you let me make this better?"

"Because this isn't something you can fix. You can't fix me, Kaiba. You can't make me a proper blossom xian," he muttered.

The wind picked up again. A lark sang in the bushes. They said nothing to each other in the wake of Katsuya's declaration. The pain dulled to an ache inside Katsuya's chest. A worn and familiar feeling that pressed on his heart.

Grass crunched as Kaiba shifted. To his surprise, Kaiba joined him on the ground. "Who's to say you're not a proper blossom xian? You are one because it's your nature."

His gaze snapped up to Kaiba's face. "Please, you've seen me, you've seen the others. I mean, just look at this—" He tugged a tuft of yellow hair at his temple. "The color's so plain. So common in flowers. They used to call me 'hay-head.' Some of them still do."

"Chrysanthemums are among the Four Gentlemen," argued Kaiba. [4]

Chrysanthemums also came in shades of white, pink, and violets. But as soon as he opened his mouth to argue, his temple stung. He gaped as Kaiba withdrew his hand with several strands of Katsuya's hair clasped between his lithe fingers.

Kaiba looked him straight in the eyes, entirely serious and without a hint of mocking. "You're the only blossom xian I've spent time with. As far as I'm concerned, you're the only proper one."

Something in Katsuya's chest fluttered.

An odd expression flashed across Kaiba's face. He surely felt it, too. Without breaking eye contact, Kaiba transferred the hairs into his palm and made a fist before drawing from his considerable well of qi. Katsuya stiffened, alarmed by the overt use of power. But he was even more shocked by what Kaiba revealed when he unclenched his hand.

A sprig of osmanthus blossoms in the exact shade as Katsuya's hair. [5]

His breath hitched when Kaiba next spoke, low and melodious in his recitations.

"A pale wash of light yellow, gentle in substance and character. Aloof by nature, yet its fragrance carries afar. What need is there of light cyan or pale red blossoms? This one ranks first among all the flowers." [6]

Despite himself, warmth flooded Katsuya's cheeks. He could only dumbly accept the flowers when Kaiba offered them to him. He could feel the frosted bite of Kaiba's qi within them. But it didn't make them any less beautiful.

A slow smirk spread across Kaiba's lips. It was impossible to hide the fact that Katsuya was charmed when he literally felt what Katsuya did. But Katsuya couldn't find it within himself to be annoyed or mad. He twirled the sprig in his fingers.

"Is there really an osmanthus tree on the moon?" he asked instead.

Kaiba's smile turned mysterious. "Perhaps you'll find out one day."

------

[1] I've never been very hot on the translation of xian to fairy. Not that I have a much better suggestion, but thankfully, the rise of western C-Drama fandom has made it easier to use the original terms.

[2] [3] Translations of lines 1-4 of 《青青河畔草》 from 《古詩十九首》, an anthology of classic Chinese poems with no attributed authors. Lines 1-2 were taken from Pleco’s translation because I really like their alliteration. Lines 3-4 was translated by me since I couldn’t find better ones. ^^;;;

青青河畔草，鬱郁園中柳。盈盈樓上女，皎皎當窗牖。

[4] The Four Gentlemen are the plants most commonly depicted in traditional ink paintings. They include the plum blossom, the orchid, bamboo, and the chrysanthemum.

[5] Osmanthus flowers are often associated with lunar legends in Chinese tradition. It's said that an osmanthus tree grows on the moon, which is why Katsuya asks Kaiba that at the end of the story. It was just too perfect of an association to pass up! Jounouchi's blond! Kaiba's from the moon! It writes itself!

[6] Ronald Egan's translation of a poem about osmanthus flowers by Li Qingzhao.

#yugioh #puppyshipping #violetshipping #kaijou #joukai #replies #anonymous #my fanfiction #things I never thought I'd write: a joukai xianxia AU #in Chinese I would title this very 'creatively' with 柳暗花明 #which is about as creative as titling a story with 'A rose by any other name' LOL #English title is actually #Osmanthus and the Moon #joukai asks

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amphibianaday · 7 months

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day 1421

#uh just a heads up if you expand the tags to see all there's. a lot. very long #amphibian #frog #poison dart frog #based on my most popular frog to date (day 651)#inspired by everyone pointing out what they think it looks like #here's a fun secret fact the original guy is actually a phantasmal poison dart frog (Epipedobates tricolor)#(according to the original artists title of the drawing)#not Anthony's poison arrow frog (Epipedobates anthonyi)#i feel too awkward to really point it out though because they look the exact same. i cannot tell if there is a difference #im half convinced the same frog was just discovered and named twice #its very curious btw if you go on the (english) wikipedia page for either species it doesn't mention the other #while hereptiles.info (no idea if this is a trustworthy site) lists both names as common names for the same frog (incorrectly??)#while inaturalist lists them as two different frogs. curiously with tricolor having wayyyyy fewer photos #ok anyway that's my rant i went on a whole journey trying to figure out if these are the same frog or not and i have no answer #i did some more 'research' and i am more confused. some sources seem to imply they are now considered the same species ( e. tricolor)#i think my conclusion is i am willing to agree the drawing looks more like e. anthonyi. it seems like tricolor is generally less vibrant re #and the white is darker and more green?#i feel like thumblr should stop me from typing more in the tags at this point this is a whole essay #at this point i am failry convinced this is specifically the Santa Isabel frog. isthat the real subspecies or morph or whatever #or just the name pet sites are using to sell it??#i even found some sources (frog selling websites) refering to it as “Epipedobates Anthonyi 'Santa Isabel' Phantasmal Poison Dart Frog” lol #Anyways if you read this far hi. species are confusing. i am not a frog scientist #the first few tags are like an hour old now i just kept trying to figure it out and adding more tags

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boydswan · 8 months

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この二人に幸あれ (1957, 本多猪四郎)

#my brain cells to me: ↑#toshiro mifune #三船敏郎 #この二人に幸あれ #classicfilmsource #mine #I actually dont know the exact english title of this movie lol #good luck to these two #maybe?#or #be happy these two lovers #本多猪四郎 #ishiro honda

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fatalwhims · 4 months

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@tristampparty's Tristamp Anniversary 2024

Day 2 - Episode Two: The Running Man

Continuing with my gifsets featuring my favourite tracks from the tristamp OST by the episode they first appear in. Just one track for today!

Previous days: Day 1

A bonus gif from the same scene under the cut though...

Fast + Furious Meryl and look and poor Roberto's eyes. (Had to sneak in a Roberto gif here because he might not make the cut in any of the actual gifs nooooooo. I still love you, old man)

Anyways - Under the cut I'm going to start adding the timestamp from the episode of where these gifs come from because I think it's cool to go back to listen to how the track fits with the scene.

Chase - 10:20 (this is earlier than the main gif, but it's when the climax of the track hits)

#trigun #tristamp #tristampparty #ok just one gif today fellas but tomorrow is KNIVES DAY #also the joke gif actually kind of looks like it loops perfectly asdjfsad #also ty rev for the title card screenshots each day bc i never find them myself in the episodes and i dont have the English text ajshsbdl #trigun stampede

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khihi · 8 months

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love Joker Out because when else do you get to follow a band and not even have a clue what language their next song is gonna be in

#''you'll never guess what the title of our next song is'' YEAH NO SHIT GUYS #i know we complain (read: joke) about this but this aspect of being a fan of theirs is actually so fun #slovenian?? serbian?? english?? spanish?? french?? what are you guys cooking dont tell me i want it to be a surprise at this point #joker out

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6ebe · 1 month

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NOOOOO 💀💀💀

#I do love how In both football and rugby the English women’s teams are way more successful than the men #on the one hand op is right but you can’t insult my bestie Jamie like that #just bc the red roses are going for 6th consecutive 6N title and the men are fighting for their lives for third 😞#that’s not Jamie’s fault 🙄 he’s actually such an OP line out thrower ok #(no disrespect to the women’s team but they are one of two fully professionalised women’s national teams in the contest so #ofc they’re winning)#I do stats rate them highly don’t get me wrong #I need to see the women train the men though fr some of them #need it

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scarefox · 9 months

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Why is the english title "My Personal Weatherman" when actually

it could have been something like "physical forecast" "sensual forecast" or whatever less lame that is actually connected to the vibe of the plot idk lol

#my personal weatherman #taikan yoho #lowkey annoying when the english titles are completely different or even lamer than the actual native titles #also for thai dramas #and surely korean too #like Bed Friend is actually 'Don't play with Anol (Uea)'#I mean I don't care if the origin title is cooler or not but someone had their reason to name their story like that 🤷‍♂️#as writer it would annoy me

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project-sekai-facts · 7 months

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on the topic of en localizations sometimes i feel like they arent that bad but i remember when knock the future got ruined and i fall back into despair

Yeah a lot of the localisations are actually alright I think we just get so used to using fan TLs for a year that we get annoyed when they change. Knock the Future to A Bright Future though? No way. It annoys me so much when they change the titles that are already in english, like I don’t mind correcting the grammar in Smile of Dreamer, Cast Spell On You, etc, but did Period of NOCTURNE and Knock the Future!! have to change? There was nothing wrong with them.

#asks #i remember this tweet from ages ago i think it was after they changed nocturne and someone joked in the comments that theyd change every #event title that was already in english. and then the official account actually responded with a really bad joke localisation of SBD #i know it was just the socmed team and they don’t control what the events are called but when even staff is making fun of the #localisation you know it’s not good

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hikoutype · 1 year

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i don’t know if someone’s already pointed this out, but something i find ridiculously adorable is that hassel doesn’t call gible “professor gible” in japanese?? instead, he calls him フカマル先輩 (fukamaru-senpai)

hassel refers to the other teachers as 先生 (sensei), but he gives gible seniority and treats him like his mentor..........i love this old man

ハッサクさん．．．本当に可愛いですね（おじさんですけどｗｗｗｗ)

#posts #kou.txt #translations #pokemon scarvi #pokemon hassel #there's obviously not an equivalent for 'senpai' in english so i think the localization team actually did a great job #calling him 'professor gible' still gets across the fact that hassel is putting some respect on his name and i love that for him #this gible has a(n honorary) DOCTORATE #side note: i think the only times i've ever heard/seen professor (博士 / hakase) being used as a title/honorific is literally just in pokemon #irl professors and teachers?? sensei or san but i don't think i've ever heard anyone use hakase in my life

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straight4joekeery · 1 year

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Teach Me How To Love In Your Own Lyrics

(Part three)

Prev. Part one

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on pick up,” Steve whispered into the phone.

“What?”

“Wow. Hello to you too.”

“Stevie! Sorry I’m just stressed. Are you coming over later? I need a hug.

“About that, I know you have a 11 o’clock flight so I’ll go to yours if afterwards if you want, but do you think you can come over to mine?”

“Uhhh, yeah. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Uh huh sure. What time can I come over?”

He glances down at his watch it read 3:30. “Um maybe in about two and a half hours. I have some errands to run.”

“Oh okay,” he sounded almost upset, “I’ll be there.”

“Oh!”

“Hm?”

“Bring the rest of the band. Okay byyeeee.” He slammed the phone down before he could get another word in, “He’s on board.”

“I assumed,” Robin said from on top the counter. While he was on the phone she had stolen a jar of peanut butter and had eaten half of it.

“Gross,” he scoffed, “anyways two hours in enough time right?” He said in a very obviously nervous tone.

“If we hurry it should be more than enough,” Vickie reassured.

“Okay then let’s go!” Steve said.

They arrived at the store in less than 5 minutes, Robin deciding to take full control, “okay party people, let’s split up.” She gave everybody their designated roles and they went on their ways. Steve was freaking out thinking they wouldn’t make it back to the house in time. They ended up being back at the car in less than an hour. “Good work team,” Robin exclaimed as they were driving again, “Ohh my god Steeevveee!” She gasped

“What?”

“For old times sake?” She said while pointing at family video.

“No Robs, we only have like a hour and a half and we still have to make some phone calls and set up. Speaking of we should have made the calls first. Great”

“Steve everything will be fine, your Prince Charming will arrive,” he decided to ignore that comment, “and everything will be straight out of the movies okay? But please Steve. You can pick the movie. We will all watch it tonight as a big, happy, and stable family. Pleeeeaassee,” she begged and nudged Vickie.

“Oh uh yeah, please Steve.” Vickie said. Robin grinned, it was honestly kind of off putting.

“Fine but let’s make it quick.” They pulled in the packing lot and hopped out of the car.

“Family Video my names Keith-,” he glanced up, “Oh god-“

“Keeiiittthhhh!” Robin walked over and gave him a little side hug, “how much I didn’t miss you!”

“Same to you Robin,” he sighed, “now what can I help you with?”

“Oh y’a know. Looking for a movie.” Then she skipped away into the comedy aisle. Steve nodded at Keith and then followed Robin. “Okay so whatcha thinking?”

“I don’t know, you pick.”

“Really? Thank you so so much!! This is a honor. Hmmm,” she walked down the row of movies with a mocking finger on her chin, “Oooh! Rocky horror!”

“We watched that yesterday.”

“Really? How about grease?” She said while raising her eyebrows

“Eddie literally hates that movie,” he said like it was obvious. It makes him kind of sad that he’s now banned from his own favorite movie.

“Fine! You pick.”

“Uh,” he glanced around, “Heathers?”

“Never seen it.”

“Me neither, but wow that girl look exactly like Joyce?”

“Ew she does.”

“Are you insulting my mother?” Ever since he moved out of his parents house, he exclusively refers to Joyce as mom.

“No it’s just weird. Anyways it’s settled! Heathers it is!”

Once they got back to Steve’s house they immediately scrambled to get ready. Vickie decorated, Steve made calls, Robin ‘supervised’. Once he finished making the final call they checked the time. 20 minutes to spare. Oh time to hope and pray everyone hurries. “Steve,” Robin rests a hand on his shoulder, “you’re panicking. It’s going to be fine,” she says as the doorbell rings, “see someone is already here.” He stands up and walks to open the door to see people he definitely didn’t invite.

“Lucas? Max?” He says while letting them in. He gave them both a hug, “what are you guys doing here?”

“we were in town… what is going on?” Lucas said while looking around.

“Well, you know how Eddie’s going on tour?” They both hummed in agreement, “we are going to through him and the band a little going away party. Do you think you guys would be able to stay?”

“Yeah, of course. Plus we haven’t seen Eddie in a while.”

“Great! I’ve really missed you guys.”

“We’ve missed you too.”

“It’s kinda sad without my favorite babysitter,” max nudged Steve’s arm.

“Don’t make his ego bigger then it needs to be!” Robin called out from the door. As they were talking about 10 of the 30 people that they invited walked through the doors. He let out a huge sigh of relief. He walked towards the guests and thanked them all for showing up.

As it hit 6 he told everyone to “get ready but also take your time because Eddie is almost always ‘fashionably’ late”. They decided against the whole turning off the lights and hiding thing. Plus Steve’s sure Eddie knows what’s going on. He hears the doorbell ring and everyone immediately goes silent he has everyone in a position so when he opens the door they won’t get caught too quick. He walks to the door and slowly opens it. “Hey guys!” He exclaims trying to hide his fear. The band all says they’re version of hi’s and steps in.

Everyone perfectly chorus’s a loud “surprise”. And to Steve’s amazement they all actually looked surprised. Eddie turned around to face Steve.

“Stevie, you did all this… for me? For us?” He says while gesturing in the vague direction of the band.

“Of course I did. You guys deserve it.” He says but was cut off by Eddie giving him the tightest hug he’s ever gotten. He smiles to himself and hugs him back.

“Thank you Steve.”

“You’re welcome.” They break the hug and Eddie goes to see and thank everyone who came he watched his face light up when he notices Lucas and Max. He doesn’t even notice Gareth is right next to him. “Hey.”

“Thank you. It honestly means a lot. This is awesome. I’m sorry if I ever acted like I hated you. I mean… I kinda did but that’s not the point. You’re a really good dude Steve.”

“Thank you,” you could tell he genuinely meant it, “and I mean you guys are going on tour for 3 whole months. You deserve a crappy party at least.”

“Trust me this party is not crappy,” he smiled (which trust him is weird for Gareth) while walking back to the rest of the party. And he was actually right.

“Well,” Robin smiled, “the party was a hit.”

“It really was,” Eddie chimed in, “thank you again guys.”

“Yes yes we’re so cool and nice, now let’s start the movie,” Robin said while grabbing their arms and skipping to the couch. They all sat down Eddie, Steve, Robin, and Vickie on the couch and the band on the floor in-front of them. Steve had never noticed how small his couch was. Throughout the whole movie all he could think about was how Eddie was practically on top of him. And Eddie could tell something was up.

“You okay? You’re very,” he waves his hand at him, “tense.”

Steve laughs to play it off, “yeah I’m fine.” After this comment he tries to relax a bit. So much so that he allows him self to slowly slide his arm off of the back of the couch and onto Eddie’s shoulder. He swears he sees Eddie blush but it’s a little dark and he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions. He thinks to himself how weird this is. Why is he so nervous it’s not like he likes Eddie. That’s his best friend. Right?

The movie ended soon and it was surprisingly good. Eddie loved it saying that’s it was his new favorite (go Steve!). Every one agreed on two things from the movie.

1. Christian Slater is a capital H Hot man. (even Robin agreed.)

2. And again wow Veronica really looks like Joyce.

The band left thanking them over and over again. The 4 of them remaining cleaned a little and then all decided it’s really late and they should get going. They said their goodbyes. Once Steve arrived at Eddie’s he hugged him again this time impossibly tighter and for a lot longer. “Thank you again Stevie.”

“You are so so very welcome,” Steve sighed, “3 months. Wow.”

“I know,” they pulled away both of them were about to cry but neither of them brought it up, “try not to miss me too much.

“Impossible,” they hugged one last time and went to bed before either of them actually cried.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wow. Part 3. I actually am starting to really like how this is turning out. I really think you guys will LOVE the next two parts. End of part 4-beginning of part 5 is kinda sad ngl. You’re in for a treat 😉. As always, comment or reblog if you want to be added to the tag list. I love all of the support I am getting. It truly means a lot you guys are the best 💚. I hope you enjoyed and thank you so so much for reading!

ALSO the current part count is 9! But I’ll probably push it to be 10 because it’s prettier. Sorry if 5 is a little short btw. I have a bad habit of trying to write a piece of one part and then it kind of just spills. Idk why but I don’t really like to make them super long.

Tag list!: @asbealthgn @queerbeansworld @bird-with-pencils @vecnuthy @artiststarme @swagaliciousmarie @piningapple @steve-themom-harrington @lfaewrites @azreadytodie @thequeenrainacorn @pastel-dreamscape @jehneeg (sorry it wouldn’t let me tag you in part 1!) @mightbeasleep (also sorry to the people it wouldn’t let me tag :( )

#AHHHHHH #lmk if there’s any errors because I only read through this once #ALSO >#I Will be posting this on ao3 sooo #I would love for you guys to give me title recs!#don’t be offended if i don’t use yours tho 💋💋#i actually like this #but yeah youll love parts 4&5 #I feel like my tags are slowly getting unfunnier #I hate people who be like: funner isn’t a word!#shut up yes it it 😠#I’ve noticed in my writings I pick a phrase and stick with it #(by writings I mean this and my English essay)#you will notice I say right? 100 times in this #okay time for unfun tags :(#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #joe keery #joseph quinn #gay #robin buckley #vickie stranger things #rockie #rockstar!eddie #teacher!steve #GOODNIGHT. (ALSO THANK YOU FOR READINV MY TAGS. SOMEONE HAS TO EXPERIENCE MY ACTUALL GOOD WRITING.)#S4JKs Lyrics

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moghedien · 2 months

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It really needs to be said that being someone’s minion is probably the funnest gig you can get. I suppose if the person in question is an asshole it might be bad, but even if they’re an asshole to other people but not you (because you’re their minion) that can sometimes be even better. it’s really an ideal job 10/10 would recommend

#I was a professional minion in college for the head of the English department and it was great tbh #like I was a student worker I got paid and I don’t even know what my job title actually was #but I was basically just the head’s minion and spy #and it worked out great #I got to spy on professors #I got all the interdepartmental drama #I got connections and resources #and none of the English professors who’s classes I took EVER did shit to me #like even when I took one of the problem teachers #they would cause problems for other classes but not the one I was in #minion perks are real

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the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis · 1 year

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i was thinking about werewolves, and legends about calling someone you love by their name to transform them back, how much love that must take (and how that maybe wouldn’t be a good thing), and...

dream of the place where nothing is red

an au where jacob black is a full-blown, full-moon, body-horror werewolf. this story is nothing but vibes, please don’t overthink it. also, mild body horror ahead, enter at your own risk

(as always text below the read-more for those of you who prefer to read on tumblr; about 3,000 words!)

Bella stands on the cliffs and clenches her fists.

She’s put it together, all the pieces of clues, all the truths she didn’t want to admit.

The phone rattling to life in the midnight-dead-quiet of the house, startling her out of sleep to listen to Charlie stumbling and swearing through the dark. Grim reports and bodies in a morgue, in a too-regular rhythm, spaced almost far enough not to notice.

Pawprints torn bloody into black dirt, the dragging trails of heavy claws—too large to be anything but a bear, too unmistakably canine to pretend they are. Whispered stories between hikers in the store shelves.

Unanswered calls, ringing out and out to a full voicemail box to, eventually, the click of a disconnected line.

I’m not good anymore, a cracked voice, and cracked nails on shaking fingers. Rain pouring down and down and down, choking, drowning—

The moonlight silver on the waves.

Ssh, the ocean roars, crashes and churns and spits bitter salt against the rocks, so far below her it sounds like a whisper. You hear it. He’s coming.

She does. Not howls, for all that some part of her is braced for a high and piercing voice to split the lonely night. Just the thunder of footfalls, the huge heaving breaths of something too big to exist, branches snapping on its back as it churns toward her through the trees.

She inhales, and clings to the cold in her lungs. The cut on her forearm, so long and deep her brain has whited out the pain, pulses—she can feel cool liquid sliding down her wrist, taste the rusty, sour smell on the air. Her heart beats, furious as the waves. Blood drips off her fingertips, splashes onto lichen-streaked stone.

Above the forest, the full moon gleams.

And the werewolf bursts through the trees.

A scream flails in Bella’s throat. She bites her lip, refuses to let the sound free.

It’s huge.

Except even that isn’t enough to describe it, nowhere near.

The creature across the clearing—slinking to a wary halt at the sight of her, pawing at the place where forest melts to clifftop with a horrible screech of claws against stone—is so big that part of Bella’s brain has stuttered to a stop just trying to make sense of it.

Its head looms higher than hers, even on all four paws. Jaws snap open, closed, open. A red tongue lashes out over black lips, both oozing a darkness she won’t try to name. Teeth burn white in the moonlight, fangs so long Bella thinks she could wrap a hand around one and her fingers wouldn’t meet on the other side of it.

Muscle ripples under russet-red fur as it paces, tossing that huge shaggy head, and the force would be enough to tear her limb from limb without any effort at all.

Some shivering part of her wails run, RUN, but she knows it’s far too late for that.

She’s left herself only one way out.

Over the edge of the cliff. Down into the hungry roar of the waves. Maybe luring the monster after her if she’s lucky. If she’s quick and clever enough to make one last difference, even though her life has meant less than nothing since Edward left her—

The wolf shudders, tosses its head high one last time…and steps onto the stone.

Muscles coil in its back legs, readying for a spring. Its eyes burn in the heavy shadows under that bristling fur—she can’t tell quite where they end or begin, but she can tell they’re locked on her.

For one last moment, she pictures turning. Jumping. Both of them plummeting down into a rush of silver bubbles—drowning together, sinking somewhere neither of them can hurt anyone ever again. Dying this time not in the place of someone she loves, but with them, gripped in their jaws and thrashing down, down, down together.

But her heart pounds and the waves crash and adrenaline is as sharp and as bright in her veins as the gleaming moon overhead.

There’s a different story clenched in her fists tonight.

The wolf, (the huge slavering bloody-mouthed monster, the killer with screeching claws and bristling fur and a lashing tail), leaps.

Bella stands straight, summons every ounce of air in her aching lungs.

“Jacob Ephraim Black.”

Her voice cracks, but it doesn’t shake, and the wolf—the werewolf (the terrified, trembling monster out of place in these woods and knowing it, with too-bright eyes and jagged, wheezing breaths desperate to fill too-large lungs)—

Stops. Gracelessly, furiously, crashing to a halt at the last instant, digging claws into stone and sending shards of it flying—one grazes Bella’s cheek, slices it open.

It's so close that Bella can smell the sour-rot scent of someone else’s blood dripping from the jaws bare inches above her, so close that hot breath gusts across her face and sends shudders down her spine.

So close that she can recognize his eyes.

They’re not black, the way they looked across the clearing with subtlety scored away by moonlight and the shadows of trees and the buzz of terror under her skin. No, the wolf’s eyes are brown—deep, mesmerizing, rich and cool as the soil humming with life between pine tree roots—

She knows those eyes. Human eyes, stretched too big to fit in this massive skull, with pupils blown wide in terror and burst blood vessels staining their whites. Emotion hums from them into the pit of her stomach, even though there’s no cue to explain it. Terror. Rage. The desperate need to hurt, to heal, to run—

His pain hers, just like always.

Jacob.

Bella swallows. She strains onto her tiptoes and raises her left hand, (ignoring the pain that lashes lightning-quick from the cut up to her shoulder, ignoring the stained fur that makes it clear the half-baked plan of her blood luring him to her first failed). She can’t reach anything but the bottom of his muzzle, wants desperately not to get that close to the fangs bulging behind his pressed-close lips—

But then he bends his head. His eyes are still wary and wild, but the nose that he presses into her palm is cool. She slides her hand farther up his snout, into shockingly-soft russet fur, and watches him tremble at the touch.

"Jacob,” she says again, and clings tight. “Jacob Ephraim Black.”

He growls, low and fierce and so loud it rumbles into the pit of Bella’s stomach.

RUN! the back of her mind insists again, but she’s floated so far from that shaking, rational voice that it barely even registers. The wolf’s skin burns, and she's warm, flooded by it from the palm of her hand and sheer proximity.

The shape of the werewolf will be removed if he be reproached by name, the book had said, or if again he be thrice addressed by his Christian name.

It had taken her so long to find a copy of it, scouring library shelves off the desperate hint of one careless mention of a myth, if someone who loves a werewolf calls them by their name, they transform back! on a barely-maintained blog.

She’d stumbled across that searching werewolf and trying desperately not to collapse into memories at the just-barely-warped reflection of her first weeks here. (Was every legend true, every horror story and myth alive in the gloomy shadows of these trees? Was she going to keep falling in love with them for her whole miserable life—)

It was less than half a clue, less than half a chance. Hadn’t she already known first-hand how unreliable all the stories were? (A vampire standing in the sun, blazing gold tracing the map of where veins should’ve been, light caught blinding under his skin like it was about to sear away and she’d gasped on the verge of a scream, but he just smiled.)

But she’d been heartsick for weeks by then, gnawing on her lip so constantly, so deep, that the sores stung when she brushed her teeth. Notes about missing persons taped to their fridge in Charlie’s shaky scrawl. Stumbling across smudged pawprints on a hike with Jake and he whistled but the scar of a monster’s fangs on her wrist burned suddenly ice-cold.

Jake, leaving a movie early because he hadn’t wanted to cancel on her but Embry and Quil were already at a campsite waiting for him and he’d honked and waved furiously out the window as he peeled out of the parking lot, and she’d buried her head in her hands to hide the fact that she was grinning—

And then there was nothing, nothing, a phone ringing out to Billy’s pre-recorded voice.

One last argument in the driving rain, and the terror on his face. You have no idea what I’ve done, he whispered, and she grabbed his hand, begged, I don’t care, Jake, I don’t, please, but he tore free, spat you should.

And when she went back the next day even Billy had no idea where he was.

She’d been sobbing herself to sleep, sliding slowly back towards the blank-page apathy that she knew could swallow her whole. Dragging the screen out of her bedroom window to perch on the sill and let her feet dangle down over a drop that probably wouldn’t kill her, when the nightmares jerked her awake and refused to let go. Watching the woods behind the house, pulling a too-big hoodie tight around herself and trying to convince herself it still smelled like Jake.

He’d lent it to her, one miserable day when it started snowing out nowhere while they were in the garage and she hadn’t been able to stop shivering even curled up around the tiny, coughing space heater. And then, of course, he insisted she keep it at least long enough to get to her truck through the snow—and of course she’d kept meaning to give it back, but—

But she stood in the library months later with a reprinting of some priest’s book heavy in her hands, the only other stories of solutions she’d been able to find, (solutions, never cures), churning bitter in her stomach, and thought this.

(She’d been choking awake from nightmares for weeks. Silver knives buried in the middle of Jacob’s forehead, right next to the near-permanent smudges of engine grease because he always forgot and brushed hair off his face in the middle of working on the Rabbit. Her hands pouring poison down his throat and he looked at her heartbroken for one long moment before he choked, gagged, and instead of vomit his face crawled back out of his throat, bloody and swelling and snapping fangs—)

This I can do, she thought.

(The worst part was never the nightmares themselves. The worst part was remembering them as she stared at grainy obituary photos, at the flickering of plastic battery candles tucked in the memorial nook by the cafeteria and the glossy smile in a cheap picture frame between them—and love still sat heavy as a stone in her stomach. The worst part was waking up sweaty and screaming and knowing that the dreams were a best-case she’d never be strong enough to reach—)

And now she stands a bare step from the edge of a cliff, Jacob snarling and shivering beneath her hand, and he doesn't bite. The exhilaration is too strong to even remember her terror.

She winds her fingers tighter into his damp fur, soaked through now by the blood on her palm.

The wolf’s head is too huge to really meet both his eyes at once, but she tries anyways. Stares into that frantic, frenzied brown—thinks about the handful of fears Jacob’s confessed to her, slow and shaking every time like he expected her to hate him for it. Thinks about how she sometimes wanted to tear the world apart just listening (I don’t think I can remember my mom’s voice), but she could never find that anger in him—

“I love you,” she says, ignoring that this of everything she’s done tonight makes panic claw between her ribs, “Jacob Ephraim Black.”

She wants to slam her eyes shut as she says it. To have nothing but the feel of his name on her lips, to not have to know if the story was just a story, if she’s run out of whatever luck or coincidence stopped the wolf the first time she spoke—

She keeps watching. Grits her teeth and swallows her fear, and stares into brown eyes as for a moment, under the harsh light of the moon, everything goes still. Even Jacob. The tremors vanish. His growl and his gasps for breath fall suddenly silent.

The waves roar.

The wolf—

Blinks.

Hope has its own heartbeat in Bella’s throat. It pounds her temples, aches in the sockets of her eyes.

Jacob’s eyes snap open, pupils narrowed to pinpricks, a million miles away from meeting Bella’s gaze—and then he jerks his head away. Fur rips free in Bella’s fist with the force of it. She stumbles, dragged a useless step in his wake as—

He whips his head up and (finally, furiously) howls.

It rips the night apart. Ricochets out across the ocean, not plaintive or lonely at all, shrill and hoarse and agonized. Bella blinks back tears, ears ringing.

But the wolf is shrinking.

For a second Bella thinks maybe it’s just that aching hope, strangling her now—but he topples over sideways, and it’s unmistakable.

He curls in on himself, and with every spasm limbs shrink, huge heaving sides cling closer and closer to the ribcage twisting under his skin like something alive. The claws gouging into stone leave smaller and smaller trails—and then don’t break into it at all.

He keeps thrashing.

Red fur ripples, crawling onto its ends and then melting back into clumps and knots and messy, impossible lines—leaving smooth brown skin underneath it, shining sweat-slick.

A crack echoes out, like gunfire—another, and another—bones, Bella realizes dizzily, those are his bones breaking.

He whimpers, caught halfway between the wolf and the voice she knows some days better than her own.

She doesn’t have a plan. His head is still the wolf’s, with bristling fangs and jaws cracking at impossible angles as it strains to fit all of them—she doesn’t have a plan. Has a screaming primal terror in her stomach telling her to stay back.

But she steps closer.

“Jake,” she says.

He rasps another horrible half-human howl, and she sinks onto her knees beside him. He’s almost all human-shaped now, twisted down in the time it took her to get to him, into two long legs that bend in all the places they’re supposed to, a human torso scraping against the jagged stone, long black hair spilled out in a puddle around his head.

But his skin still seethes. Ragged patches of rust-red fur crawl across his thighs, wrap his stomach around to his back, line his shoulders. It clings stubbornly thick to his wrists and the backs of his hands, clustering around elbows that bulge not quite right, and—

His face. A long stripe of fur slashes across it, forehead to chin, around the edge of lips that still bulge a little out of his face, not quite done being a muzzle. One long fang curves over his jaw, digs viciously into the soft flesh of his neck. Bella chokes on a gasp.

He wrenches around. His eyes, still red with burst blood vessels, lock onto her, and this time she can see him recognizing her. Sees the shame, the guilt, burning straight down to his heart.

“Jake,” she repeats. He squeezes his eyes shut.

She reaches, catches one of his twitching hands—the inside of his palm is still coated in soft fur. She laces her fingers through his. Two of them are still half claws, knuckles melting into hard bone and razor-sharp edges—

“Jake, please.” Her voice cracks. She clutches tighter, not caring that she can feel her knuckles bruising against the claws. “Jake, I’m here.”

His hand is so, so cold, and she's never felt so useless—

Realization hits, electric.

She drops his hand, fumbling for the hem of her sweater. She wore it for—some stupid reason. Something in between a desperate attempt at scents that would catch his attention from wherever he was hiding, and just needing the comfort, as she stumbled out of the house with her heart in pieces, a note on her desk that she was hoping desperately she’d be back in time to burn before Charlie had to read it—

Give the werewolf his human clothes, and he will remember his human shape—

She’s wearing Jake’s hoodie. She drags it over her head, wincing as it drags against the cut on her arm, but then it’s loose in her hands, fabric still warm from her own body. Goosebumps prickle down the back of her neck.

She leans in, grabs Jacob under the arms, and heaves. (He’s heavy, but worse than that she can feel bones still moving under his skin, grinding below coarse red fur, and for a second she thinks she might vomit—)

But he groans as she drags him upright, and the sound is almost human.

“Come on,” she whispers, heart hammering, as he slumps forward onto her shoulder. (There are too many teeth in his mouth still, shining as his lips part to gulp down air, and she’s hyper-aware of their inches from her skin—) “Come on, Jacob.”

It’s hard, and horrible, and she’s going to be so sore tomorrow, but she pushes him up again just long enough to wrestle the hoodie over his head. He shudders, violently—

And this time when he collapses onto her shoulder, his arms fly up to hug her. To grip the back of her t-shirt, with fingers that aren’t claws at all. (She can feel blood soaking off them in tiny pinpricks, knows his nails must be cracking and tearing from their beds again, just like that last shouted conversation where she finally let herself suspect.)

“Bella,” he sobs, hoarse and desperate and familiar as the backs of her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“Jake,” she says, one last time. Below them, the ocean murmurs, and finally, she uncurls her fists and reaches out to hug him back.

#is this original content?#jacob black #i have no explanation i was thinking about werewolves #i really cannot stress enough how much this is Just Vibes #which forks high school student do YOU think jacob murdered?!#it's up to you i didn't care enough to decide #opposite energy though #the quotes about werewolf lore are from an actual book by an actual English priest btw #also i've been thinking a Lot about symmetrical language in stories recently #so yes. that is on purpose #it might also be annoying idk i wrote this and desperately wanted to post it #also yes i stole this title from that really good poem #'when is a monster not a monster oh when you love it'#that is. you know. supernatural fanwork #it's a good poem

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broke-on-books · 10 months

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☕

The live action Scooby-Doo movies?

I did not see this ask until RIGHT now (first time on desktop since crab day, second time since Nov 5 2020 [which was DOUBLY experience since I got my phone taken the same day]) so I'm going to assume this ask got eaten on mobile because tumblr, HOWEVER you poked a bear with this ask anon (as I'm sure you knew when asking) SO without further ado: my Scooby Doo live action opinions

So when you say 'live action Scooby-Doo movies' I'm assuming you're talking about the James Gunn films, starting with Scooby-Doo (2002) followed by Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed, just due to like, generally popularity and also the fact that I have actually seen those films. However shoot another ask if you wanted me to include Curse of the Lake Monster in this (because I will if anyone cares and turn this into a live-action scooby dissertation, i'd just need to like. watch the movie first) But anyways where I'm going with this is that this post is about the Gunn movies aka the ones with SMG, Freddie Prinze Jr., Linda Cardellini, and ofc our #1 man, Matthew Lilliard.

Okay so my take on these movies is... complicated. I wouldn't say it's as complicated as my feelings towards SDMI, because I watched the live actions way less as a kid and generally care less about them, but still no matter how much shit I throw at these two movies there are parts that I generally like (even love) that stops me from totally condemning them wholesale. Like the fact that these movies are FUNNY! There's so many moments from this duology that are just beyond iconic "like, that's one of my favorite names!" the whole thing with Scooby in the dress at the airport, ET. CETERA (like I can go on!)

The Gunn movies are genuinely SO fun and I can 100% see and understand how they've stood so well in the public view as a representation of Scooby. HOWEVER, this is where you start to see my problems with them. For the general American, (because that is the audience I'm familiar with) ESPECIALLY millennials and younger, who happen to make up the majority of both people on this site AND people I talk about Scooby with in real life, these movies, and the elements they introduced as "quintessential scooby tropes" are the base of their understanding of the Scooby franchise, along with likely some miscellaneous WAY episodes and maybe SDMI.

Which is where I get pissed off. In the pushing of the narrative of "breaking away" from the Scooby norm, Gunn basically invents (aka totally makes up) an idea of what classic era Scooby was like, cementing an idea of classic Scooby into the public mind that is totally disingenuous and just straight up false. For example, in attempting to portray Daphne as having taken strides to be seen more seriously in solving mysteries and defending herself, it pushes the narrative that in the classic era she WASN'T taken seriously, and only existed as a damsel-in-distress prop of a character, which is just not true??? Like yes, Daphne is clumsy, that's a part of her character, and her friends (because, fun fact, the gang ARE friends) joke about it sometimes because that's what friends DO. Framing that in some kind of sexist "that's all she does" lens is just total bull, especially as gang members fall into secret passageways/get lost etc. in WAY ALL THE DAMN TIME because that's how the plot functions! Like are we calling Velma ditzy for losing her glasses every other episode? Of course not, and Fred falls into passageways all the time, not to MENTION Shaggy and Scooby and all they get up to. Also one last thing on the topic of Daphne, like this idea of her mystery solving skills not being respected by the gang is just so supremely bullshit it amazes me sometimes, especially when she was the LEADER (or leader adjacent) through pretty much all of her appearances in the 1980s [Not that James Gunn could look at '80s era Scooby without spitting on it, but I digress]

AND THIS IS JUST DAPHNE! Like the perceptions pushed towards Fred (and Velma, but mostly Fred) through these movies are just as bad! Like okay, with Fred---In these movies Fred is just an asshole. I hate Gunn Movies!Fred. I mean yeah he can be funny but it's almost always so mean! Almost nothing makes me madder than a mean Fred by the way. If he's putting other gang members down (even halfway, like with his whole "dorky chicks like you turn me on too" line, which... ew) then to me something has gone very, very, VERY, wrong in your basic understanding of Frederick Herman Jones as a character. Like he's the cheerleader! He puts himself in between his friends and danger! He loves nets, and traps, and Elvis impressions, and wrestling, and the trapeze, and cars, and most of all he LOVES sharing the things he loves with his friends! (Sometimes to a bit of an extreme. No one wants to hear about your net facts, Fred) And the live action movies just don't understand that at all. And I know there's maybe something to say I suppose in that some of those aspects of his characterization hadn't been "established yet" by the time "Scooby-Doo" came out in 2002. But it's there if you look. For Fred Jones, being the leader means being the caretaker, (he's the Mom friend what can I say) and any version where he's cruel and arrogant and just DOESN'T CARE about his friends in the way he's shown to in the Gunn movies is just so far from Fred to me it's not even funny. And what makes it even worse for me is that this (or at least something similar) is the idea of Fred that has really spread to the popular culture. Just the "leader", the jock that makes the rules, the one that [insert X adaptation here] finally gave a personality and made interesting (something that has been said more times than I can count for pretty much every gang member, save Shaggy and Scooby).

And I haven't even touched on Velma, and how they gave her a bit of a early 2000s smart superiority girl complex against Daphne, plus the whole makeover thing and etc. etc. The Gunn Movies are pretty much what would happen if you took someone who hadn't seen Scooby since they were 7 years old (and honestly had a pretty negative outlook against it then) and tried to "fix" it, only his memory was so bad he just made up problems (and threw in a good helping of early 2000s style sexism with it) convincing pretty much the entirety of the popular culture that said problems exist and that Gunn was absolutely brilliant for fixing them (and then bringing up said "problems" whenever anyone wants to talk about Scooby) and this entire rant has been without even fucking MENTIONING what is probably the reason you, anonymous tumblr user sent this ask in the first place, to I, Swishy "Scrappy Doo Redemption Arc" Broke-on-books (dot tumblr dot com), which is his HIGHLY SUCESSFUL and utterly sadistic character assassination of my number one man, Scrappy Doo.

And I am going to try my damnedest here not to get totally into my highly passionate opinions over what James Gunn did to Scrappy in the first of his Scooby movies and how thoroughly it has pissed me the fuck off because I have been writing this post for over an hour now and if we start to really get into my feelings on this topic it will certainly be a couple of hours more but like. That Fucking Bitch. I give James Gunn personally a solid eighty-five percent of the blame for making my life as a Scrappy Doo fan UTTERLY unbearable with this stupid fucking movie alone, and just his Scrappy crimes would honestly be enough for me to say that I hate this movie, not even considering the numerous Scooby crimes I've been talking about here for the past million paragraphs, but the part about this movie that makes me the MOST mad the most pissed off is that it's actually a good fucking movie. James Gunn wrote two hilarious and entertaining movies that have become beloved in the popular culture for their successes in that arena, while at the same time pissing all over the core themes and messages of the franchise of which it was based, that of friendship.

TLDR; The Live Action Scooby Doo movies (written by James Gunn) are highly entertaining and fun pieces of media to watch, and are widely loved by the general public and looked at with fondness and nostalgia because of that. However, as a hardcore Scooby Doo fan (writing that phrase sounds so ridiculous but oh well) the existence of these movies and their impact on the popular culture can be extremely frustrating (despite any personal nostalgia said fan may have) due to their spreading of a misinformed picture of what "typical Scooby Doo" looks like. This picture is especially frustrating due to the fabrication or exaggeration of problems present in classic Scooby (such as sexism in regards to the girls), as well as giving more ammunition to other problems in Scooby fandom (such as oversexualization, and sexualization in general, which no one wants to see in regards to their children's cartoons, like HONESTLY.) Discussions of sexism and sexualization in Scooby (both of which ARE present and are issues, although not at their worst in WAY) can often lead to an overlooking of the issues that are very present and clear in WAY and have continued since then with far too little resistance (I'm 100% talking about the racism here) HOWEVER that topic deserves at least a dozen posts of its own that I am no way informed or qualified enough to even begin to think about writing. The Gunn Movies are frustrating to many longtime Scooby fans because of these reasons, but for me, and fellow Scrappy Doo fans there is also the added aspect of the demonization of Scrappy Doo in the live action movies and the affects that has had on the popular culture as well, making it uniquely inhospitable to like or enjoy the character of Scrappy. End post.

#that last sentence is such a weird tone jump btw but its because the topic flowed one way and i had to jump it back to a summary to actually #finish this monster of a post #SO anon i hope you're happy with this and this makes my opinion make some more sense. and you or anyone else is more than welcome to ask me #questions about anything i said here or my opinion on any and everything scooby related (and not) so if theres a specific aspect of this yo #would like expanded on i can definitely 100% do that for you or anyone who cares #also there are many complexities towards my feelings on these movies that i didnt get to hit on despite the monstrous size of this rant (il #check word count later but im not gonna fuck with it now because im terrified of deleting this post by accident) one of which is my lasting #fondness towards all of the actors in this movie. YES including freddie prinze jr. i may have major issues with his fred but hes also playe #characters i really really like. for example hes the va in this tv show i LOVE and havent watched in like 10 months despite the fact im on #the last season because freddie's character dies in like 7 episodes and i am NOT AT ALL emotionally prepared for that on any level because #that is my fictional father goddamnit!!!!!#also every buffy the vampire slayer gifset that crosses my dash gets me closer and closer to watching it because oh my god daphne!!!!! that #sarah michelle gellar thats daphne oh my god!!!! also i went and saw guardians of the galaxy 3 with my friend (despite not having seen a #marvel movie in 2+ years AND holding a grudge over james gunn's scooby doo crimes)[the things you do for {platonic} love amirite?]#and the title sequence SAID linda cardellini was in it and i got SO excited i was looking everywhere for her it was like wheres waldo in th #discount movie theatre FOR REAL and i just could NOT for the life of me find her (turns out she was VAing the ferret) so in a way linda mad #me cry with that role. whatever. istg i get so off topic i forget what i was even talking about but ANYWAYS <<<1 of my fave english words b #dubs (my favorite spanish word is el amanacer btw. it means sunrise. also burbujas because its bubbles and saying it sounds like bubbles #popping) BUT. AS I WAS SAYING. SEND ME ASKS IF YOU WANT SCOOBY DOO OPINIONS. DEAR GOD I GET SCATTERBRAINED SOMETIMES.#scooby doo #answered #anonymous #blah

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