i do just have to say though.................... i feel like people who really really loved the movie's portrayals of the characters are adding aspects of the show characters onto them? you know what i mean? like i see people say that adrien and marinette were more likeable in the movie than the show, when movie adrien didn't perform a single act of kindness in the entire 2 hours despite kindness being a core trait of adrien in the show? marinette was normal and not particularly weird at all and just kind of a generic protagonist? were adrien and marinette actually more interesting in the movie than the show, or are you just cherrypicking the aspects of them you like the from the show and putting them on the movie characters to make your favorite amalgamation?
marinette fell for adrien not because he showed vulnerability and forgiveness and kindness and opened his heart up to her.... but because he awkwardly tried to help her up after being kind of weirded out by her? so like i guess she thought he was hot and that was basically it? chat noir fell for ladybug not because she was strong and confident and showed determination in the face of fear... but because she begrudgingly helped him up in the middle of a battle? so like i guess he thought she was hot and that was basically it? they fell for each other over just the bare minimum interactions? most of their relationship was a montage? like, did the movie do the work to convince you of lovesquare's romantic potential, or did you go into the movie already shipping them because the show had already convinced you?
thats totally a valid way to enjoy the movie ftr! i'm just saying.... idk it's weird to see people praising the movie for being "better" when i feel like a lot of the enjoyment of the movie actually hinges on watching the show as context for their characters. and i guess im just a cringe slow-burn enjoyer but i find it weird that people are using "faster" as a synonym for "better"
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Y’all want the Cowboy!Ghost meet-cute? This one’s longer because I’m ripping it straight from the Cowboy fic’s first draft.
He holds up a twenty neatly folded between his fingers without even looking at you, "how much is it gonna cost to get you to leave me alone?" He asks, the bass rumble of his voice making you all the more sure of your decision. You glance from the skeletal mask to the black Stetson tipped low over his eyes.
"The hat."
"Not for sale."
“Not even just for tonight?” You ask, feeling buzzed and bold as you lean against the bar. There’s the slightest turn of his head as he looks at you. The warm brown of his eye as it peaks from under the shadow of his brim hits you better than any shot could.
“How about a drink,” He says after a long moment, motioning for the bartender.
“How about two,” You grin, his mask shifts, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges, “What are you drinking?”
“Piss,” He says, pushing his mask up enough to get a swallow of his beer. He’s funny, you’d laugh if you weren’t so entranced by his lips against the bottle. You rip your eyes off him when he pulls the mask back into place. You gotta get this man a decent drink. You press up onto your toes to lean across the bar and talk to the bartender.
“Are the Sisters still making hooch?” You ask, the tender nods and grabs two shot glasses for you. You settle back on your feet, feeling the pleasant weight of your companion’s gaze dragging over you. You wait as the glasses are filled with 2oz of the only thing you missed on the coast. Well, maybe not the only thing. Your cowboy’s fingers pinch around the sides of the shot, his hand dwarfing the glass. You both tap your shots to the bar before throwing them back. You shake your head at the burn as he lets out a cough.
“Oh that is dead,” He says, lord his voice is so thick when it’s pleased. Rumbling nicely in his throat, you’re desperate to see what it tastes like.
“So,” You draw his eyes back to your face with just one word, “What’s a Manchester boy doing in this shithole?”
He lets out a breath through his teeth, flicking the brim of his hat back to get a better look at you. His eyes make you warm all over in a way that the alcohol can’t. “Manchester, huh-” He motions for another shot, “You even know where that is, Princess?”
“North of Birmingham, west of Sheffield. Do I need to answer any more trivia for you to take me home?” You smile, tapping your refilled shot against his before downing it. His fingers hesitate on his glass as he looks at you, eyes following your tongue as you lick the last drop of moonshine off your lips.
He reaches up and takes off his hat, settling it on your head. It’s big and warm, and sits just a little too low on you, but you don’t care, it’s his. His claim on you. He takes his shot clean, pulling his mask back up as he tosses far too much cash on the bar and grabs your hand.
You barely get to his truck before you’re pressed against it, his hands gripping your face as he presses his lips to yours. It’s warm and cotton-y. You laugh, feeling bubbly from the moonshine, as he growls and rips his mask off before kissing you again.
And oh, he’s good with his mouth. You can tell by the slide of his lips, the way he holds your face just the way he wants to. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips and you open eagerly for him, letting him taste the cheap sugary booze you’d been sipping before you saw him. He licks into your mouth, skimming your teeth before twisting his tongue against yours in a way that makes you shiver. His mouth is warm and wet, and he groans when you suck on his tongue. You want to hear that sound for the rest of your life. He tips your head back and back, his hat held to your head by the closed cab door as he crowds you against his truck forcing you to take everything he gives you.
Your chest is warm and you can feel your blood pumping want through to your fingertips as you twist them into his shirt. You want to be drunk on him, you think this is the best decision you’ve ever made. Especially when his hands leave your face to grab your hips, his leg wedged between yours. He drags your hips to grind against his thigh, all hard muscle and oh you can feel him. The hard line of his cock just at the apex of your movements. It makes all your heat pool between your legs. Mm, he was absolutely a good decision.
“What am I screaming for you?” You murmur, between kisses, desperate to know your cowboy’s name.
“Simon,” He tells you, ducking to mouth at your neck. “Simon,” he says it again, bites it into your skin, like he’s reminding himself.
“Simon,” you sigh, enjoying the way saying his name makes his hold on you tighten.
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I'm gonna be frank, Eddie just does not give me the impression that he was bullied all that much in high school to me. Especially as he got older, like he was the school drug dealer, he was not getting beat up by the same jocks who were going to be buying from him later that week. It just doesn't make sense to me!
I'm not saying he was never bullied at all (personally I think he was probably bullied by the people in his grade in like middle school, but leant more into the satanic image by the time he got to high school (which is when the satanic panic wouldve been starting) and people became more afraid to mess with him or it stopped when BS started dealing) or that people can't headcanon and project onto pm. It's fandom, do what you want lol. I've just gotten to the point where fics lose me whenever they claim Tommy/Steve/Jason was going around beating the shit out of him or shoving him in the halls every week or the like. Eddie just does not give the impression that he is scared of the jocks normally. He looks down on them and thinks he's better than them! He taunts them openly in front of everyone and pontificates on table tops.
I think if you take it in that context too, it makes the town turning on him more sinister? Like obviously, satanic panic was only growing at that point, and it was within the last year or two they started pointing at metal and D&D as recruiting centers for satanic cults. (Eddie also like an asshole is walking around with a satanic symbol on his jacket - peak edgy teen in the middle of a moral outcry.) But while people might've been afraid of him, and most definitely talked about him behind his back, that's worlds away from mob violence. The change was startling, even if Eddie might be able to see it on the horizon.
Idk to me that's more of what the hunt the freak line was about. The knowledge that they could turn on you and would if you gave them a reason (or if you want to go with the Eddie is closeted interpretation - if he got outed). I think he probably has been called the freak for a while but honestly I think he's proud of it at this point.
Obviously all of this is up to interpretation, I guess I've just gotten to the point where a lot of the popular fanon interpretation doesn't feel like Eddie to me anymore
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