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buglovingbagel · 4 months

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😭 sorry for invading your ask box again but how about an angsty hanahaki imagine with harvey and a transmasc (preset D) farmer?

I'm sorry for taking so long, my dear singular reader. 😭 Never apologize, I love that you were happy enough to come back for another!!!! I took a itty bitty break, got sad, but now IM BACK! It'll probably be shorter, I'm not feeling the most inspired rn.

I'm not great at hanahaki writing, haven't done it since middle school, but I'll try.

Also, I didn't know if you wanted good ending or bad ending, so I just went with good??? 😭

Generic TWs for a hanahaki story.

Harvey had hardly ever found the need to use his practices on himself. Sure, sometimes he'd catch the common cold or need a bandaid, but the doctor was one of the healthiest men in the valley. It was incredibly rare to see Harvey off of his schedule or staying in bed sick.

Which is why Harvey was highly confused why he felt so sick at the moment, sitting on the bathroom tile with a killer itch in his throat. Just last week, he had come down with an absolutely killer cough, and after taking some Tylenol and going to sleep a little early, he expected it to go away on its own. Subverting expectations, it did not. In fact, it only seemed to get worse, and this cough seemed to be out to embarrass the man.

Despite his cough being calm for most of the first day, it was when the farmer had come in for a checkup and their hands had brushed together that Harvey immediately had to cough into his sleeve, apologizing afterwards. Again and again, his cough acted up specifically in front of the farmer, itching pain clawing up his throat as if trying to reach the farmer. And of course, Harvey thought positively. He was sure that this was because of nervousness.

The farmer was, for lack of a better word, perfect. He was handsome, hardworking, and seemed to always know what Harvey needed to have a good day. He'd stop by to give him coffee and brought truffle oil after hearing from someone else say it was one of Harveys favorite things. Kindness was not uncommon in the valley, but the farmer, he truly seemed to exceed everyone else in Harveys eyes.

Not once did he ever voice those thoughts. The blush that dusted only Harveys cheeks when they talked, not the farmers, was enough to tell Harvey that those feelings were likely not mutual. Harvey wouldn't call it love, maybe just.. a crush. (It was far more than that.)

So now, a year after the farmer had moved in, Harvey is hacking in front of a toilet bowl after feeling something come up his throat at a cough. He looked a mess, having floundered to the bathroom in his pajamas, assuming he had to throw up. Dry heaving and gasping coughs filled the air while Harvey screwed his eyes shut at the discomfort, gagging when a small amount of iron tasting liquid and something remotely solid fell into the toilet bowl.

Harvey had nothing but fear in his eyes when he saw a flower petal and blood in the porcelain bowl. It didn't take a genius to realize what was happening, just a doctor. He spent about thirty minutes trying to convince himself he was dreaming, tears in his eyes.

★

Harvey felt a bit bad laying more of his work onto Maru, but he felt nothing except for hopelessness lately. He carried around a white cloth in his shirt pocket specifically to cough into so that blood wouldn't stain his sleeves. A week after his little coughing fit in the bathroom, he's been coughing up petals every few days, absolutely raking through the internet for a solution other than surgery. A temporary fix that could ruin his lungs is not what he wanted, and plus, it's not something he can do himself.

The only person who has really seemed to notice the switch is Maru. Harvey is more reserved, more tired. His smile doesn't exactly reach his eyes, and he has stopped going to the saloon on Mondays and Wednesdays. He told her that he's fine, just a simple cold, but she caught a glimpse of him rummaging through the medicine cabinet on more than one occasion, looking for something specific that they clearly did not have.

The only person who seems to share these concerns is the Farmer, who actually mentioned it to her first. Despite bringing Harvey nearly double the coffee they usually did for him, the man still looked tired. "Maru?" The woman, clad in nurse attire, smiled at the farmer behind the counter. His brows were furrowed in worry. "Is Harvey.. okay? Is he sick or something?" He had leaned in and whispered as if it were a secret. Her smile almost immediately dropped, and after a pause, she whispered back. "I-I don't know. I think he is? But he won't tell me what's wrong." They shared concerns, things they had noticed this far, but both decided not to pry. It wasn't their place. Both of them were just friends with Harvey.

★

Another week later, Harvey coughs up an entire flower this time around. It's the same color as the farmers eyes, as were the previous petals. He curls up into a ball and stares at the thing as if it had burned him, but surprisingly, he feels the need to keep it. He picks up the flower, keeping it in a small box on his dresser.

The internet had not helped in the slightest. Soothing teas had terrible reviews, medication did nothing but numb the throat, and unsurprisingly, home remedies did nothing. He had purchased some numbing spray to make it hurt less, but even that didn't stop the rasp that had entered his voice. Maru hardly properly smiled around him anymore, and every conversation ended with her gently asking him if he was really okay and whatever she could do to help.

Harvey, on his way back to the clinic from the saloon (Maru insisted he still go on Saturdays), fell into another embarrassing moment when the coughing hit him again, publically this time. It was well into night by now and Harvey was a bit tipsy, taking a knee to hopefully push away the nausea he was feeling. He didn't even notice footsteps behind him until the farmer came up behind him. "Harvey?" The man hesitantly put his hands under Harveys arms, trying to help pull him up from the ground. The farmer chuckled. Harveys chest flared in pain and he felt more tears easily spring to his eyes. "Had a bit too much to drink, hm?" Upon Harveys lack of a response, he properly tried to inspect the doctors face in the dark. "Harvey?- You look like you're gonna throw up-" *Harvey very much did, lips pulled into a thin line and adams apple bobbing when he gulped. He shook his head despite the very clear taste of blood and let the farmer guide him home.

As soon as they were inside, thanks to Harveys keys, the farmer lead him into his room. Harvey hardly muttered an "excuse me" before stumbling into the bathroom, leaving the farmer to stand in his bedroom. The farmers brow was once again creased in worry. This man was gonna give him grey hairs, at this rate. He tapped on his thigh, ignoring the sound of the toilet flushing before Harvey returned, looking a bit dazed. The farmer noticed a speckle of what looked like blood on Harveys collar and his eyes widened, but there was no need to stress the man out while drunk.

"Harvey." The farmers voice held sympathy and he guided the man to his bed. "Cmon, you should probably lay down. You're sick and drunk." Harvey batted at the farmers hand, but laid down anyways, taking off his overcoat while on his side. "M not sick." The farmer sighed. "Of course not." As if comically timed, Harvey coughed again. The quiver it caused in his hands made it even harder to unbutton the white button up he was wearing under his jacket.

Wordlessly, the farmer helped him with his clothes. Harveys chest quieted just a bit and he found himself breathing a little easier when the farmers hand met his own. His shirt and pants laid on the floor next to the bed and Harvey was under his sheet. He expected the farmer to leave, but instead, the man sat on the ground, leaving his hand in Harveys. If Harvey wasn't so drunk, he'd see the red tint across the farmers cheeks. "Get some rest, darling. I just wanna make sure you're okay." Harveys heart swelled at the words, but he wouldn't remember it by morning.

★

Surprisingly, this became a trend for the two. The farmer brought soup once, enough for himself, Maru, and Harvey to all have, and then insisted he stay the night when Harvey complained about having to open the clinic next morning. The farmer spent far more time with Harvey and got closer to him as a product of that. He helped around the clinic, but also helped Harvey take care of himself. Harvey had no idea how the man insisted on being so perfect when, really, Harvey didn't deserve it.

It was a month after his condition began that the farmer had found a bloody flower petal Harvey had missed sitting behind the toilet. A month after his condition began that the farmer had to Google what that could possibly mean. A month after his condition began that he realized the man he had started to catch feelings for had feelings for someone else, and it was killing him.

While he left it alone at first, he was a ball of fucking nerves for the next day. And the day after that. And it only seemed to worsen. He sat on the edge of Harveys bed, excusing himself into the room after a hang out. The air was tense, as if this was some sort of intervention, and Harvey seemed surprised when he saw him. "Oh, farmer. Do you need-" The farmers voice shook, interrupting Harvey. "Who do you like?" Harvey blinked in surprise, confused. "I'm sorry?" The farmer looked a little bit betrayed. It seemed like Harvey was just going to hide his sickness until he died. The rasp in that man's voice suddenly felt much more deafening. Realizing how much danger Harvey was in made their feelings stronger. "You love somebody." He didn't say it like it was a happy thing. Harvey felt very disturbed, continuing to stand near the doorway. "I'm not sure what you mean, farmer." He huffed in annoyance. "You have hanahaki disease," he pronounced it wrong, having only read the word, but Harveys blood froze all the same, "and you're hiding it from us."

The farmer teared up, Harveys silence being enough of an answer. "Who is it? Who do you like?" The farmer was suddenly up, walking across the room and holding Harveys shoulder. "I'll- I can help you. Whoever it is, I'll make sure you two end up-" His voice got a little choked up, to Harveys surprise. "I can't watch you die." The doctor, unsure what to say, opened his mouth to speak. Not a word came out. After a couple more seconds of silence, he started coughing again, continuing to cough until he had to take a knee.

The farmer joined him on the floor, hand on his back. He waited until the coughing died down to keep talking. "This is what I mean. Seeing you in pain- That's enough on its own. But knowing your dying?" The words were harsh. Harvey didn't know what to say. "Please tell me, Harv. I'm begging you, I-" Harvey groaned. "Stop. Please." The farmers brow furrowed in an unreadable expression.

"No." The farmer, who'd almost always did what others asked and went above and beyond not to push boundaries, was the last person he'd expect to respond that way. It sounded harsh. "You can't just shut me out, Harvey. Tell me who it is." They seemed incredibly determined. Their words would be reassuring in any other setting. "I'm not leaving you, ever. There's not one name you can say right now that would make me turn my back on you." His heart swelled once again, but he knows it's not true. The farmer would leave if he knew. "Bullshit."

The farmer and Harvey continued to argue over the man's privacy. Harvey has never seen the farmer be so pushy. Both of them seemed to get more and more annoyed, and if was truly out of character for the both of them. The situation was simply too dire to walk on eggshells. Both were standing at this point, raising their voices just a bit, and Harveys still seemed quiet at his raised volume.

"Maybe it would be better if you turned away!" The farmer seemed appalled. "Stop it, I would never!-" Harveys voice cracked beyond what it normally did and a tear fell down his face. "I love you!" Harvey sniffled, trying hard not to sob right then and there. The farmer seemed stunned. "I love you, you fucking idiot." *His shoulders shook while he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, unable to leave look at the farmer while he heard the floorboards creek under the other mans work boots.

Wordlessly, the farmer held each of Harveys wrists, pulling them away from his face, and kissed him. The farmers lips were slightly chapped from being out in the cold for so long on the farm, but just as amazing as Harvey imagined. His eyes were closed, but Harvey couldn't bring himself to, completely shocked. The farmer pushed towards him, holding the kiss for multiple moments and moving his hands to hold Harvey by the shirt instead, and then finally pulled away. There was a long silence between them. The itch is Harveys throat, for once, was bearable. And with the ghost of the farmers lips on his, he didn't register the pain at all.

"You fucking idiot." The farmer wetly laughed, as if both relieved and shaken. "You could've-" guilt hit the man in the chest. "You could've told me earlier." Harvey joined his laughter, halfway between a chuckle and a sob while more tears swelled and travelled down his face.

---------

Not proud of this, tbh 😭 but I also didn't expect to be, I'm not great at writing Hanahaki shit and, tbfr, never have been. I hope you liked it either way!!! :]] This is most definitely not my best work, really off my game tonight, but I'm not inspired enough to redo it 😭 or even to properly proofread it.

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patriciaarabis · 17 days

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Pavements with Print

This picture was captured by my brother, in Boston Heights Subdivision, Toclong Kawit, Tuesday, April 9, 2024

I wake early in the morning to witness the sunrise, but I forget to take a picture of it. So, instead I wake up my brother to take my pic and the landscape around our house, to be honest I am not a morning person so it’s rare for me to wake up early, and it’s not force, like if I go to school and I have morning schedule I force myself to get up and get ready. But at this moment, I wake up with a positive and lively feeling.

"Positive thinking is more than just a tagline. It changes the way we behave. And I firmly believe that when I am positive, it not only makes me better, but it also makes those around me better." - Harvey Mackay

I captured this picture when we are going home, this pathway is full of coconut trees like in the province, this picture is taken in Imus Cavite, Tuesday, April 9, 2024

This picture is taken after we are done eating, here in imus Cavite there’s a place or a hidden eating place, that you really need to go inside of that alley to reach that place, and that place has a nature ambiance and fresh air. Their food is also affordable. These trees remind me of my childhood, because I grew up in our province which is Masbate and there’s a lot of coconut trees like this. In every afternoon, me and my cousins we go to the “taas” or “akyat” where there is a lot of coconut and mango trees, and my older cousins climb those trees so we can have our merienda. Because of them I have happy childhood memories.

This picture is captured while we are doing our weekly grocery, in Imus Cavite, Tuesday, April 9, 2024

Since my siblings and I have no school today, my mother decided to do our groceries so we can go with her and eat after we purchase our needs and goods. This routine became our bonding time together. We go out or sometimes we just watch movies and cook snacks at home, if we are not busy.

“Think of your family today and every day thereafter, don’t let the busy world of today keep you from showing how much you love and appreciate your family.” –Josiah

Theme: Urban Environment

#travelwritingandphotography

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barkspawn · 1 year

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Can you do one about harvey falling for the farmer at the moonlight jellies 😇

You most certainly can <3

I did have a hell of a time trying to figure out how to describe part of it? But also I added some magic

Also as I write these, I realize I might have made Amelia too short bc I feel like the guys are mostly tall lmao esp Harv

Amelia's second summer in Pelican Town was coming to an end. She went to the beach far too early for the gathering that evening. The moonlight jellies were making their way through the valley as they did every year. It was arguably her favorite night of the year.

Something about the glow as it lit up the entirety of the docks made her happy. It just reminded her that the world is even more beautiful than she'd even begun to know.

Everyone talked of a rare green jelly, said to bring you endless good luck that year. Some of the more romantic believers liked to say that if you saw it, you were in the presence of your soulmate and would find happiness with them this year.

She wanted to believe that these things were true. But behind all of her hope, there would always be that part of her that was skeptical of everything that might be good. Especially things as life-changing as love.

She lay on a blanket in the sand, watching clouds as they passed. It had to have only been about 7 pm or so. Thankfully she had her pack beside her stocked with snacks and some random things to do.

She heard her phone chime, pulling it from the side pocket of her bag. She smiled as she read the text:

Harvey 7:23 pm: Did you actually go down to the beach this early?

Harvey 7:23 pm: You’ll be miserable with all of those mosquito bites tonight. Don't say I didn't warn you! :P

She shook her head, her smile not faltering as she typed a reply:

Amelia 7:24 pm: I am most certainly here already! I'm excited! And there's not a mosquito in sight, thank you.

Amelia 7:25 pm: You should come to hang out. I have a huge blanket and snacks more fulfilling than a frozen TV dinner.

She sighed, content. She and Harvey had grown incredibly close over the past year. When she first met him, she didn't think he'd be her best friend. If anything, she cursed the town for having a cute doctor to take care of her at her most embarrassing moments. Although, she couldn't decide if his being her friend made it better or worse.

Harvey was notoriously bad at texting, so she had no idea if he'd actually come early, though she doubted he would come this early.

She lay for a while, her eyes closed before she jumped, startled by the blanket moving beside her. Her hand moved to her chest, playfully shoving the man beside her. He laughed, rubbing his arm.

“Harv! You can't just sneak up on people like that!” she teased, turning to grab her thermos full of coffee, cut off by Harvey holding out a paper cup of coffee from the saloon.

“I hardly snuck up on you. It's been about an hour and a half. Looks like bringing coffee was a good idea, even if you assault me,” he joked as she rolled her eyes.

“Well, at least it wasn't attempted murder! Yoba, my heart is still racing,” she laughed as she took a sip of the coffee, flavored just how she liked it. She tilted her head toward the bag, glancing back as she heard Pierre setting up already, “then I brought refills.”

They sat there for a long while, just talking until people started showing up. They stood up and gathered up the blanket and her bag, making their way to the end of the pier to stand at the edge. It was growing more crowded and darker quickly.

Harvey couldn't stop his smile as she grew more and more excited, rambling about how much she loved them the previous year.

“I've never actually been up this close to see them,” Harvey mentioned, laughing at the shocked look that he earned as a response, “I've always watched from the beach. It's still beautiful.”

“You won't be saying that when you see them like this. That much I promise,” she smiled up at him, “and maybe you'll see that rare green jelly. Brings you good luck, right?”

He was glad the darkness hid the pink hue in his cheeks as he shook his head, glancing to see Jas and Vincent lighting the boat together, “among other things, I've heard.”

She looked up at him before noticing the boat going out. Excited for the jellies themselves and his reaction, she grabbed his hand for a moment and squeezed. His heart was racing as if she had scared him. The glow of the creatures slowly made their way toward them, and he had to admit, she was absolutely right. It was truly beautiful.

Then he looked at her, the glow from the water mirrored over her features, and he found he couldn't look away. It was the mix of awe, excitement, and pure happiness that she held that lured him in. It all became clearer then, the random bouts of high heart rates, the feeling he gets when he sees her, as if everything got just a little brighter. It all made sense. And it terrified him.

He was falling in love with her.

The realization hit him like a truck, though he continued watching her like she would disappear if he looked away.

“Oh my… Harvey!” Amelia whispered excitedly, turning to get his attention, “ look !”

His gaze followed her finger, eyes widening as it floated there: the rare green jelly. He looked around, no one else seemed to see it there, though everyone was looking.

If you see the green jelly, you will have tremendous luck in your life and your soulmate is close at hand.

He recited the superstition in his mind, thrown off entirely by the fact that no one else could see it other than him and her.

Harvey was not a bold man. He was often quite timid and more than a little anxious. But at that moment, he wasn't anything other than certain this was what needed to happen.

He shifted, turning her towards him, reaching up so his hands framed her face, and held no pause in pressing his lips to hers.

It wasn't desperate or hungry. It wasn't full of passion or, Yoba forbid with everyone around, lust. It was just a soft kiss, his lips moving against hers in an attempt to wordlessly say what he’d been thinking all night. He felt her hands on his chest, fingers tucked under his lapel as he pulled back, the weight of his actions really occurring to him.

“Amelia, I..” he started, cut off by the smaller woman pulling his lips back down to hers in a second kiss, his fears melting away at the second, definitely deeper kiss. They heard a few hollers from the crowd, suddenly remembering that they were surrounded by quite literally the entire town. She stepped close to his side, his arm moving to rest around her and holding her closer. They watched as the green jelly floated off, guiding the rest of the group back into the night.

Once people started to leave, they turned to face one another, a teasing smirk playing at her lips, “first a heart attack, now you're stealing my breath?” she stood on her toes and kissed the spot where his chin meets his jaw.

“Where did that come from? The heat of the moment?”

He laughed, a little embarrassed, “I uh… You looked stunning in the glow… And then the green jelly… It sounds silly to say aloud.”

“A lot of people say it though, Harv… About the green jelly?”

He lifted his hand once more to frame her face, smiling as she leaned into it, “Amelia, no one else saw it.”

Her eyes widened slightly, “how… How do you know?”

“I looked around and not one person turned their eyes to it. And you couldn't miss it.”

She nodded slowly before pulling him back down into another kiss, this one holding a great deal more emotion behind it, her hands moving up to tangle into his already messy hair. After a moment, she pulled back and laughed, breathlessly, “I want to kiss you so much more , but you're so tall I can barely reach you.”

He laughed, his expression softening before he slipped his hand into hers, grabbing her backpack and blanket, “we can always–”

“Go hang out at my place?” she jumped in.

“That… Certainly works for me,” he cleared his throat, lacing their fingers together and smiling down at her affectionately.

#sdv harvey #harvey sdv #sdv #sdv fanfic #stardew #stardew valley #harvey #stardew valley harvey #harvey stardew valley #stardew harvey #oh look a one-shot #barkspawn oneshot

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spoilertv · 10 months

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#SpoilerTV

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fantastic-nonsense · 2 years

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so my general almost non-spoilerish review for The Batman:

best depiction of Batman we've ever gotten on screen; he actually acted like a real detective and had a fantastic character arc. Some of the fight scenes were a bit awkward, but that was also clearly a purposeful choice made to highlight the fact that this is Year Two Batman, who's still figuring things out

It was extremely clear which comics Reeves took inspiration from. The movie is very clearly a love letter to Batman, the fans, and the comics people have spent decades reading, and you can tell. If anyone's interested, the most obvious inspirations were Year One, Long Halloween, Ego, and Zero Year, with some elements from Batman: Earth One thrown in as well.

I personally thought the core themes were woven through the main plotline well. There were a couple of instances of clunky dialogue, but overall, it was fairly effective at getting across the points it wanted to

Bruce's opening/closing narrations were A+

the opening scene (y'all know the one) was excessively long. That shit could have been effectively told in 2 minutes tops and it went on for 5-6. There were a couple of other scenes that felt like they needed editing down too, but that was the most obvious one

Generally, I wish Pattinson had emoted a bit more (both as Bruce and as Batman). He had some fantastic moments, but I just wanted more from him. I understand that it was a deliberate acting choice that he didn't and I understand why Reeves and Rob made that character choice, but there were several points throughout the movie (particularly during his talk with Falcone and a few of his scenes with Selina) where I was just like "come on Rob...give me something here!"

Submit the hospital and Arkham interrogation scenes to the Oscars for Pattinson's Best Actor nom. That's all.

Reeves made some interesting choices for Selina and I actually really liked most of them. I enjoyed how she was clearly the pathos and conscience of the movie, which we rarely get outside of Selina-focused comics

This is the funniest depiction of Bruce and Gordon's relationship we've ever gotten, and I'm actually obsessed with it

I'm ultimately still not happy with the Riddler. He was effective. He was smart. He had his riddles and his question marks and his obsession with Batman. Like Pattinson's emotions, I understand why Reeves did what he did. Dano's particular interpretation of Eddie just didn't work for me.

I can't believe some critics are calling this movie humorless. I was stifling laughs every time Penguin was on-screen, and there were some just Grade A-level puns baked into the script. I guess maybe they didn't like that it was tasteful, smart humor and wasn't just quippy one-liners every 5 minutes?

the soundtrack: A++++. Batman's theme was appropriately forbidding and it feels like you're watching a Big Cat stalking his prey every time it plays

if this movie doesn't scream "Harvey Dent will co-star in Batman 2" I simply don't know what movie you watched, but it wasn't the same one I did. Whether he'll appear as Two-Face or not idk, but Batman 1 was literally the perfect set up for Harvey's appearance and that's WAY more than I expected to get

Finally, fuck the critics who were like 'the third act is weak.' No, the third act was NOT weak, that was peak Batman cinema you cowards. The flare scene, my beloved...................

Basically, I have some issues with it, but overall, an absolutely solid movie. Absolutely thrilled to see where Reeves goes with Batman 2.

Also...get this absolute disaster of a man a Robin!!! If there's ever been a live-action Batman who desperately needs a Robin, it's DEFINITELY Battinson.

#the batman #the batman spoilers #(kind of)#the batman 2022 #bruce wayne #batman #dc comics #personal #bri's reviews #me pumping my fist in the air during the flare scene: 'THAT'S HIM! THAT'S *MY* BATMAN!'#I don't want to be TOO SPOILERY in this review but also.........the car chase scene............edge of my seat the whole time

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xanthossamurai · 2 years

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Self-Love Retrospective

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2021. tag as many creators as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

1. Silver & Gold This is one of the fics I’m proudest of having written, period. I got to touch on a lot of themes that are personally very important to me - addiction, abuse, trauma, but also family and recovery and strength and healing. I was so grateful to LizzieMack for giving me such a great prompt that enabled me to really get into all of these things. I also just love digging into the complexities of Jason and Dick’s relationship.

Could Dick actually be an alcoholic?

The idea had never even been a possibility in Jason’s mind before, but now he tried to think back. Had he ever seen Dick drunk? Okay yes, of course he had. He and Dick were both adults, sometimes they drank alcohol. They had both been brought up by Bruce “champagne is appropriate for any meal if you have the right attitude” Wayne, for Chrissakes.

Of course he’d seen Dick drunk before. Charming and flirty at galas and parties where he was Dick Grayson, golden son of Bruce Wayne; tipsy and playful at the boozy brunches that Bruce was fond of on the rare weekend when the family wasn’t embroiled in a case; raucous and teasing at Gotham Knights baseball games, drinking cheap beer in their expensive seats as he yelled for the team to score a touchdown just to annoy Jason and Bruce.

These memories, memories of champagne and sunshine sparkled gold across Jason’s mind’s eye. That’s often how Dick appeared in his head — a corona of gold gleaming around his edges, as though he were always backlit by some brilliant light. The thought of it now was enough to curl Jason’s lip. How fucking dare golden boy bring that light in here, into a room where Jason had finally gotten comfortable accepting his own brokenness? He’d lived a lifetime and a half in the shadow of Dick’s golden light. And now, when he’d finally carved out his own little piece of darkness that felt like home, that light had walked in the door and thrust itself into a place that Jason desperately wanted to stay hidden.

2. Like a Bad Habit

This is honestly one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. I love AUs and I love wacky shenanigans and I REALLY love exes being awkward and mixing humor and pathos and Bruce and Harvey are so good for this. (And so are baby Jason and Dick)

“How are the brownies coming?”

“Good, I think…” Bruce looked down at the bowl of brownie batter in his arms as though he suspected it of being an imposter.

“You put all the ingredients in?” Harvey peered at the bowl as well.

“Yeah I think so… Chocolate, flour, eggs, vanilla…”

“Sugar?” Asked Harvey.

“Yeah, babe?” Bruce looked up at him.

An air of abject embarrassment settled on the kitchen as both men realized what had just happened. Sugar had always been Harvey’s pet name for Bruce, and hearing it again had immediately transported both of them back to a different time and place. A bright blush had pinkened Bruce’s cheeks and Harvey was, for once, glad that half his face no longer had the ability to do the same.

“...Did you add sugar?” Harvey asked gruffly, trying to save the moment.

Bruce jerked himself back to reality and looked down at the batter.

“Yes. Right. Sugar. Yes. I did.”

3. Constellations

This fic took me MONTHS to write. I literally did it like 50 words at a time because it was dark and weird and hard to write but I’m really happy with it now. Clark/Jay is a weird pairing and scar fetishes are a weird topic but uh.... I still really dig this one.

Clark ran the fingertips of both hands along the length of the scar, tracing it as though it were Braille and he was trying to decode the messages in Jason’s flesh. His hands parted at the center point of the Y and his fingers traced the lines as they separated and ended at Jason’s clavicle.

Jason’s eyes were mostly closed and he watched Clark from beneath his eyelashes, watched as the god in human form stared down at his mangled body. Clark’s lips were parted and his eyes were intent, alight with fascination and hunger.

It was almost a ritual now.

4. Blueberries & Sugar

The world deserves more domestic BruHarvey, and I am going to give it to them. And, honestly, this exchange is some of the best BruHarvey I’ve ever written.

Bruce liked to tell him that he had the brain of a criminal mastermind trapped in the body of a thug. Harvey liked to grin that lopsided grin and say that he could be both. Bruce liked to roll his eyes and tell him that sometimes he had to pick one side or the other. Harvey liked to tell him that the world was made of shades of grey.

Bruce liked to pretend that he disagreed just so they had an excuse to argue. Harvey liked to pretend to lose the argument just so Bruce would keep picking arguments with him.

They both liked to pretend it wasn’t love.

5. Kansas Sunsets

Since I’m ace, I really wanted to write something with ace representation and I have a lot of emotions about asexual Damian Wayne! I think quiet moments can be very hard to write but I also think it’s so good when you get it right.

“What if you change your mind and you want to have sex and I still don’t?” Damian watched the last embers of the sun sink below the sunflower horizon.

“What if a giant brain-infecting slime monster invades the planet tomorrow and we all get turned into mindless slime zombies to do its evil biding?” Jon blew a little blast of cold air into Damian’s ear, making him yelp. “What if it turns out that Bat-Cow is actually an evil alien mastermind orchestrating a bovine invasion of earth? What if we’re living in the Matrix and none of this is real? We can what-if all day long, but we’re here. Now. Together. Just enjoy that, okay?”

#fanfiction #xan writes stuff

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nnnnoooooooooooo · 3 years

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My Ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s 25 Favourite Films Poll

The following is my ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s poll for their readers’ 25 favourite films of all-time. It contains a dozen or so favourites, several compromises, and a handful of personally foundational texts.

Seven Chances (1925, Buster Keaton): It ain’t easy to only choose one Keaton. This is one of Keaton’s films with a racist blackface character, which gave me some reservations. Still, this is a solid contender as his funniest picture, and, more importantly, this is Buster as I love him the most. Keaton’s characters were always the most cerebral and lost, keen observers with no understanding. An inability to communicate one’s emotions drives the need to convert it into a physical experience; Keaton inevitably becomes the object that cannot be stopped. His full forced desperation and athleticism, he is a master of locomotion. Featuring the finalization of the chase gag, along with a generous serving of his brand of surreal.

City Lights (1931, Charles Chaplin): Comedically and emotionally devastating.

Trouble in Paradise (1932, Ernst Lubitsch): Lubtisch’s portrayal of Continental aristocracy on the cusp. Containing love, melancholy, desire, rivalry, loyalty, betrayal, criminals, and thieves-- all saved by his grace alone, achieving a rare bliss of comedy and romance. Normally, I’d say that, in a temporal world, perfection exists only as a process, but then how would I explain this?

La grande illusion (1937, Jean Renoir): In the best of Renoir’s films, I find a type of harmony I find lacking in the rest of the world.

La règle du jeu (1939, Jean Renoir): In making this list, I never doubted either of these Renoir films having a place. Now, trying to write about my list, I find myself becoming frustrated at not finding the words to explain why I chose them. I’ve never been a great communicator, and I doubt that’s Renoir’s fault. I think it’s best for me to move on before I start misplacing my frustrations with my inability to write onto the film itself.

How Green Was My Valley? (1941, John Ford): Possibly the greatest movie ever made under Hollywood’s Studio System, and perhaps the closest we’ll ever get to seeing what Hedy Lamarr might have seen in John Loder. More than any other actor, Sara Allgood carries this film, in her role as the matriarch of the Morgan household. This is chock full of great character actors and moments as you’d expect from Ford. It’s the magic of childhood, the safety of the womb, the cyclical nature of a town where nothing ever seems to change, and the devastation of entropy. I lost track of how many times I cried.

To Be or Not to Be (1942, Ernst Lubitsch): This is my choice for a comedy from the 1940s, despite stiff competition from Hellzapoppin’, and the 11 movies Preston Sturges released over the decade. I had the privilege of seeing this at my local Cinemateque with an introduction by Kevin McDonald. I was late, and the audience had already begun to talk back. He rolled, and we were soon laughing before the “projectionist” could hit ‘play’ on the Blu-Ray. My friend came later. It was a packed house, so we weren’t able to sit together. I enjoyed hearing the variances in people’s response*, and the timing of their laughter. Trying to pinpoint my friend’s laughter from the crowd, I couldn’t help but hear our host’s generous laughter throughout the film. What a joy it was for all of us to experience this film together. I guess I haven’t had a chance to share those other movies the way that I was with this one. *A nice change of pace, as this usually makes me self-conscious

Shadow of a Doubt (1943, Alfred Hitchcock): I find Hitchcock’s women’s pictures to be some of his richest texts. Besides which, any film asking me to sympathize with Theresa Wright already has a lot going for it. Alongside The Wrong Man as Hitchcock’s most tragic film.

Brief Encounter (1945, David Lean): My favourite romance, whatever that says about me. A passionate extramarital affair between Laura Jesson (Celia Johnson) and Dr. Alec Harvey (Trevor Howard), told in flashback. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this placed among noirs, but I think this could be an example of a women’s film noir. There’s a thick sense of transgression and fatalistic mise-en-scene, along with an inability to escape, which ends the film on an unconvincing return to safety. After the two lovers part for the final time, Johnson returns home. Her husband, Stanley Holloway, asks for nothing, and expresses gratitude for her return. However, for all of that loveliness, Johnson has learned that the world is far more fragile than she ever dreamt. The husband is portrayed as a bit childlike, and, coupled with the affably stiff upper-lipped nature of their marriage, Johnson is unable to confess what’s occurred, which only preserves her turmoil. Unable to consummate, sustain, or forsake her romance with Howard, she may find some refuge with her husband, but salvation eludes her.

Out of the Past (1947, Jacques Tourneur): RKO Pictures, film noir, Jacques Tourneur, and Robert Mitchum– These are a few of my favourite things. As a prude, I don’t care to admit that I love cigarette smoke in B&W pictures as much as I do, and it’s deployed here to its zenith, courtesy of Nicholas Musuraca’s cinematography. Daniel Mainwaring’s script, along with Tourneur and Mitchum, use underplay in order to create a heightened effect. Mitchum’s somnambulism grants his portrayal of Jeff Bailey an omniscient cool, which extends to his character’s bisexuality. There’s such delight in hearing Mitchum, one of the best voices in movies, deliver the film’s lyrical dialogue in his disaffected baritone.

The Big Heat (1953, Fritz Lang): Perhaps Lang’s most cynical film? The culmination of all his conspiracies. The law vs. criminals, no longer as separate from one another, but as sides of the same coin: the establishment. Sergeant Bannion (Glenn Ford) engages in total war against Lagana’s (Alexander Scourby) crime syndicate. Those caught in between end up as collateral damage, pawns in their game. Each dismantles the family unit, Lagana disposes of Bannion’s wife (Jocelyn Brando), and Bannion displaces his child, so that both sides can carry on unfettered. The happy ending finds Bannion happily back at work in the homicide department, where they’re informed of a grisly murder. Oh boy, here we go again! Gloria Grahame, a sister under the mink, reigns as my favourite actress in all of film noir.

The Sun Shines Bright (1953, John Ford): It’s not easy to film a miracle, a feat for which I’d pair this with Carl Th. Dreyer’s penultimate film, Ordet. Speaking of Dreyer, if you have 15 minutes to spare, here’s a great video of Jonathan Rosenbaum discussing this movie alongside Dreyer’s final film, Gertrud. The responsibilities and limitations of society. Communities are built through sacrifice, as we give of ourselves, which accounts for the film’s sometimes funereal tone. One’s resting spot as the place to make a stand, but what good is taking a stand if it doesn’t lead anywhere? Our redemption lies not in preserving ourselves, but in guiding the world to a place that no longer needs us. Thus, not a dying world to save, but an understanding that we must pass in order to bring about renewal. Funerals become parades, and parades become funerals, as we walk the strait and narrow path between tradition and progress. Don’t take a stand while the world marches on, but lead us into thy rest.

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953, Roy Rowland): This is a musical written and designed by Dr. Seuss, which is to say that I think you oughta see it. Still, it’s hard to justify why I chose this over The Band Wagon. I’d probably better enjoy watching The Band Wagon, which I’d wager is Hollywood’s greatest musical, but there’s something about The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T that gets under my skin. I saw it on television when I was very young. Old enough to remember seeing it, but too young to remember more than three details: twins joined at the beard, the nightmare-inducing elevator operator, and a large piano requiring an exponential amount of fingers. This forgotten foundation, along with its Seussian imagery, grants the film a dreamlike feeling. Just as every good boy deserves fudge, every Hans Conried deserves a role like the one he has here, playing the titular Dr. T.

The Night of the Hunter (1955, Charles Laughton): A kid’s film featuring the personification of evil, not in Mitchum’s portrayal of the preacher Harry Powell, but in Evelyn Varden’s Icey Spoon. This movie is so full of indelible images that I sometimes forget LOVE/HATE tattooed on Powell’s knuckles. There’s a dreadful unease from the inability to fully save or preserve Ben & Pearl within a society whose systems turn on them so easily. Their safety is drawn and quartered at every turn, and so Ben & Pearl flee society, finding a guardian out yonder. Still, there’s a limitation to their newfound guardian’s protection. Their angel and their demon sing in harmony; evil becomes instructive to the children’s growth. It’s a hard world for little things, but there is hope. Mrs. Cooper (Lillian Gish) manages to find her redemption in protecting these children while she can. Perhaps we need them as much as they need us. This was Charles Laughton’s only film as a director, as well as the final of James Agee’s two films as a screenwriter. It isn’t right.

Sweet Smell of Success (1957, Alexander Mackendrick): This is my favourite film noir, possibly the nastiest as well. Of course, I cackle throughout the entire picture. Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis at their bests; the tension between a malevolent god and his jester/would-be pretender played as flirtation, conducting assassinations as though they were composing poetry. Shot on location in New York by James Wong Howe, giving us a view of Babel from the gutters up. Also, I’m just a big ol’ softy for Emile Meyer, who plays Lt. Kello.

Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957, Frank Tashlin): As I see it, this is the best sex comedy of the ‘50s and ‘60s. Tashlin previously worked at Termite Terrace, making Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies, and did a brief stop making Screen Gem cartoons over at Columbia in the middle. After having brought feature film techniques to his cartoons, he brought cartoon imagery into his live-action films. This is a vehicle for Jayne Mansfield, who may have been the most cartoonish of the era’s blonde bombshells, and so it is a happy marriage indeed.

Playtime (1967, Jacques Tati): This is cinema. Ah! Tati, Ah! Modernity

Out 1: noli me tangere (1971, Jacques Rivette & Suzanne Schiffman): Rivette’s movies feel alive in a way that I haven’t found anywhere else. The films I’ve seen are about conspiracy, games, and the development of theatre troupes: things that exist only in our minds, and are dependant on our cooperation with others. Things get so twisted that you wonder how they’ll ever untie it all, only for the shared illusions to be revealed as a complex series of false knots. I broke my rule with this film, in choosing a film that I’ve only seen once. I didn’t make the time to revisit this or Céline et Julie vont en bateau, my other favourite Rivette film, so I went with the larger labyrinth to lose myself in.

F for Fake (1973, Orson Welles): This is Orson Welles’s most playful film. I love Welles, the personality, almost as much as I love Welles, the director, so I chose a movie that features both.

Mikey and Nicky (1976, Elaine May): Perhaps the most tense and dark comedy I’ve ever seen. May reaches her highest levels of drama here, and does so without any cost to her usual standards for humour.

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946, Frank Capra): I wasn’t sure about including this, given that it’s not even my favourite James Stewart Christmas movie, but what can I do? It’s a Wonderful Life is an institution in my family, we’ve watched this every Christmas Eve since I was grade 6. There was a year or two in the early ‘10s where we might have missed it, but, otherwise, we’ve been devout. This is also one of four sources that laid the foundation for my love of movies, and, in particular, older movies. I hope to continue to watch this every year. It just wouldn’t be Christmas. Growing up, my brothers and I used to be allowed to open one gift the night of Christmas Eve, which evolved into my brothers and I exchanging our gifts for each other. The first year my brother’s and I exchanged gifts, we happened upon CBC playing It’s a Wonderful Life in a 3-hour timeslot. Filling in the gaps of my memory with ego, I’d say that I instigated our watching it. I was always the biggest sucker for holiday specials, as well as being the most drawn to B&W. It was an instant hit with all of us, and so two traditions were born that night. For those curious as to what year this took place, I gave my oldest brother a 3 Doors Down CD. My older brother got me the Beast Wars transmetal Terrosaur figure. And. It. Freakin’. Ruled. CBC continued to air It’s a Wonderful Life every Christmas Eve, and we continued to tune in. My brothers and I continued to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve for about another decade, but now my family has a better Christmas Eve tradition to pair with our holiday movie: Chinese food, and, less dogmatically, vegetable samosas. Leftovers become brunch. We’ve watched the movie, I think, twenty times now, which includes one viewing of the unfortunate colourized version, and once in theatres. It’s a great movie to come back to each year. There are lots of little moments, lines, and details to zero in on, and each year I get to internally test and brag to myself about naming and recognizing the various character actors and bit players that pop up. Still, I sometimes find myself resisting its charms. A couple of years ago, my view of Frank Capra changed. I no longer saw him as the director I had previously thought him to be*. I wondered whether this movie stood on its own merits, or if I was holding onto it for sentimental reasons. I have since settled on this film being a genuine classic. Another source of resistance is that I’ve never watched this on its own, there’s a lack of an individual foundation to my relationship with the film. I’m so accustomed to viewing films on my own, I think there’s a relief in a taking a private experience, and having it succeed in a public forum. The two support each other, which is part of why a couple of films ended up on this list. However, when it’s a film I’ve only seen in the company of others, I become suspicious of my experience. I believe in the power of cinema when it’s to my benefit, only to doubt it when I fear that it has the power betray me. I guess that I lack faith. *The director I once thought Frank Capra was, I now find Leo McCarey to be.

Doctor Who: The Lost in Time Collection (1963-69, various): This was a last minute decision that ended on a mistake. I ought to have chosen Daleks: The Early Years instead, which has the proper framing of a retrospective documentary. Daleks: The Early Years is a VHS release hosted by Peter Davison, featuring interviews with key people from ‘60s Dalek stories, cannibalizing clips from Dalekmania (another documentary on Daleks in the ‘60s), and orphan episodes and snippets from otherwise lost ‘60s Dalek serials. It’s also one of the VHS tapes that I grew up with, and my introduction to the fact that, at the time, over 100 episodes of ‘60s Doctor Who were missing and presumed lost. This was my introduction to the concept of lost media. Since then, a further 12 episodes have been found, and the number of missing episodes has dropped to 97. Instead, I chose The Lost in Time Collection, which is a 3-disc collection of orphan episodes and surviving clips from otherwise missing ‘60s serials, not actually a feature in itself. It’s a really nice sampling of the Doctor Who’s best era, and the episodes and clips are sometimes more interesting without the rest of their serial for context. While I didn’t get this collection until I was an adult, I had managed to see most or all of its contents growing up, mostly on various VHS compilations, as well as some clips online. As the deadline for submissions approached, I chose the one I enjoy more, rather than the one that first changed me. I suspect that Doctor Who was the first work of science-fiction that I got into, as it predates me in our household. My brothers and my getting into Transformers predates my memory, but it does not predate my being around. Doctor Who also served as my first exposure to B&W viewing. I was really into science-fiction growing up, and the genre was really my first interest in older films. The interest didn’t really bridge its way from my youth into my present. Heck, I wasn’t even particularly a movie person until into my twenties. In early adulthood, after fading for a bit, my fondness for science-fiction was more directed towards video games and books. So while it didn’t lead into my love of film and B&W, it laid a lot of the groundwork for what I’d eventually come to love. My oldest brother remembers staying up late with our parents to watch Doctor Who, and my older brother has memories of trying to stay up with them, but it was no longer airing on any of the stations we had by the time I was kicking. Loved, but unseen, it developed a sort of mythic reputation in my young mind. Over the years, we managed to see a bunch of serials on VHS through our local library system, and we eventually got 5 VHS releases of our own before the decade ended. We got a book, The Doctor Who Yearbook, which had listings and synopsises of every serial ever made. The classic Doctor Who series lasted 26 seasons, consisting of 153 serials, and just shy of 700 episodes. No matter how many episodes of Doctor Who I managed to see when I was growing up, it was only ever the tip of the iceberg. My younger self liked daydreaming about all of the adventures, planets, aliens, robots, and monsters, but that would begin to dissipate with age. While I loved Star Wars for the many of the same reasons as I did Doctor Who, the advent of more Star Wars wasn’t all that fulfilling, with Episode I: Racer for the N64 PC as a noted exception. More than the fact that I was caught up in the cultural backlash against George Lucas, the lack of a well defined characters and society in the original trilogy was a virtue. The toys and books really capitalized on this. I was the kid that wanted to know every weirdo and background character’s life story. I was such a mark. The more movies they made that added to the lore, the smaller their galaxy seemed to be, in opposition to an expanded universe. Each piece promising to add to the larger picture only seemed to reveal a smaller whole. More movies telling the same stories with different versions of the same characters. A galaxy that once seemed so vast now revealed to be comprised of maybe two dozen people, many of which are related or connected to each other in some tired and unnecessary way. Eventually, I got really into Jonathan Rosenbaum, and began to project my ego all over his preferences, to which Star Wars became a victim. I gave up on the series after sitting through a showing of Episode VII. Fires subside, and, these days, I’m mostly indifferent towards the series. Undergraduates can be a bit much, y’know? While the new Doctor Who series also fell out of favour with me, it was easier for me to divorce it from the original series. Having seen the series only in disparate pieces, rather than a linear narrative may have helped. I have no illusions that the original series is anything more than a silly kid’s show that mostly takes place in corridors, which is a fine thing to be. It’s enough to be a delight. The deceit of nostalgia is that I can return to these works I once loved with the same feelings and wonder that I had as a child. While I remain fond of Doctor Who, the whole of a serial is often less than the sum of its parts. After all, being a serial, half of the adventure is meant to take place in your head during the week between episodes. It’s the opposite of binge-watch material. It’s hard to commit to working your way through such a bulky series at a deliberately slow pace. Besides, even spacing the episodes out some, it’s still not going to capture my mind the way it would when I was a child. The virtue of the Lost in Time Collection is that you’re never seeing a serial as a whole, only as individual pieces. The collection consists of 18 complete episodes from 12 serials, with clips and bits from an additional 10 serials. Only one serial has more than two episodes featured, The Daleks’ Master Plan, a 12-part epic, which has its 3 known surviving episodes on the set. Freed from the responsibilities of being part of a larger story, you get to enjoy the pleasures of each episode as its own entity. Charm exists outside of context, and what may have been stretched and strained over half a dozen episodes can easily be sustained in the single episode or two that remains. A piece of Starburst may not keep its flavour any longer than a piece of Hubba Bubba, but at least it has the decency not to overstay its welcome. The less that remains of a serial, the more interesting it becomes. For some serials, the only surviving clips are the scenes that were cut by censors, and so you’re only seeing the juiciest bits. Protected by obscurity, just as recording in B&W protected this era of the series against its lack of budget, the childlike sense of wonder remains. Any missing serial could have been great. We lack evidence to prove otherwise. What little remains from these serials is enough to imagine what may have been, and it’s easy to give the benefit of the doubt to an old friend. No longer just a science-fiction adventure, the series has grown into a larger and more engaging adventure in film & television preservation. Thanks to its cultural status and following, questions as to how these stories were lost, why years of episodes were junked, how they were returned, in which disparate places were episodes found, who has been hunting for them, what were their methods, to what lengths did they go, what places remain to be searched, what remains to be found, what’s trapped in the hands of private collectors, and what has been lost forever have all been thoroughly explored, though some answers continue to elude us. For those interested, Youtuber Josh Snares has an extensive series of videos that breaks down many of these questions as best as one can with what’s publicly known, and, despite being on yotube, I don’t think he’s annoying. Doctor Who best represents my film lover’s sense of discovery, combining the joys of hearing about a film that piques my interest, trying to track a film down, discovering or rediscovering a new favourite, learning about film history, and the efforts of film preservation. Hearing about films I’d like to see can be nearly as rewarding as actually watching the films themselves. The more that I see, the more there is that I’d like to see. The harder something is to find, the more interesting it can become. Film is a physical object, so there is a battle against time for us to discover, recover, restore, and preserve works before they’re lost to time. The good news is that many efforts are being undertaken, both by professionals and by amateurs. The advent of crowdfunding has really helped to create more opportunities for completing these endeavours. Following an Indiegogo campaign, Netflix stepped in and completed Orson Welles’s The Other Side of the Wind. Many of Marion Davies’s silent films have been restored in recent years. Thanks to the efforts of Ben Model and his team, I will soon have the pleasure of seeing eight Edward Everett Horton shorts that haven’t been in circulation since the silent era. Steve Stanchfield (Thunderbean), Jerry Beck (Cartoon Research), Tommy Stathes (Cartoons On Film), and their cohorts are doing God’s work in finding and restoring old cartoons, and giving them an audience once more. I don’t think there’s ever been a more exciting time to be so out of touch.

The Muppet Movie (1979, James Frawley): The Muppets’ movies were a staple of our household growing up, and this ranks alongside The Great Muppet Caper as the best of them. This movie has a very self-aware humour to it, exemplified by the introduction. The camera wanders through a studio backlot, following a car carrying Statler & Waldorf, who provide us with the first dialogue of the film, announcing their intent to heckle the film. Inside, the Muppets are waiting for a private screening of The Muppet Movie to begin. It’s a disaster. A monster tears out one of the seats, the visibly deranged Crazy Harry blows up another, people are dancing in the aisles, and chickens are flying about. Objects being thrown include, but are not limited to, popcorn, Lew Zealand’s boomerang fish, and paper airplanes. A full-sized Muppet looms in the background, a giant colourful bird with enormous unblinking eyes, leaning a bit from side to side. An acknowledgement that somebody has let the animals in charge of the zoo. Still, a coziness remains amidst all of the chaos. Kermit attempts to introduce the movie to his peers, the lights go down, and he takes his seat. The movie opens in the heavens, where the credits and a rainbow appear. It clears onto a long, long shot of a swamp, slowly zooming in to reveal a frog on a log, playing a banjo, singing Paul Williams and Kenneth Ascher’s The Rainbow Connection. We’re taken away. One of the most vital aspects of the Muppets is that they exist in our world, something that gets lost in their 90’s trend of literary adaptations. An entire world of Muppets isn’t much of a utopian vision, but the idea that these animals, monsters, and whatevers belong in society alongside ‘real’ people is. This trend was part of a larger regression throughout the years with the Muppets. What began as a self-aware humour turned into a self-depreciating humour, and, eventually, a self-loathing humour. The Muppets used to take on the world, but, in later years, they seemed unable to dream of anything more than getting back together once more, so that they could reaffirm their lack of success. Bring them back to life so they can take one more dying breath. This Muppet movie is filled with celebrity cameos, in part a tribute to their variety show, as well as to the vaudevillian origins of most of their shtick. Here, the cameos serve the Muppets. Later, the Muppets would take a backseat, and become vehicles for others, not even allowed to star in their own movies. I wish they were given better opportunities to shine. As good as this film is, I have to admit that this film’s treatment of Miss Piggy is embarrassingly sexist. While they don’t look like Presbyterians to me, at their best, I think the Muppets have almost as much hope to offer as any religion.

Transformers: The Movie (1986, Nelson Shin): Watching this movie gives me the feeling I always hope that I’ll feel whenever I’ve bought concert tickets. I don’t watch this so much as I sing along to it. I even knew Vince DiCola’s score down to a ‘T’. With all due respect to Storefront Hitchcock, this is my personal Stop Making Sense.

Air Alert V. 4 (late 2000’s, TMT Sports): First, and most importantly, I do not recommend Air Alert nor any other paid for vertical jump program. I cannot stress that enough. They’re not designed by people who really know what they’re doing, the marketing is predatory, they’re unjustly hard on your joints, and they’re methods are not in conjunction with their promises of wild vertical gains. While I hope to stop finding that people have also done Air Alert, I immediately feel a strong kinship with those I learn have also been misled. Air Alert is a 15-week vertical jump program that makes the dubious promises of adding 8-14 inches to yer vertical leap to everyone, regardless of their current physical condition. It promises to add explosiveness to yer hops, but its means are an exponentially increasing amount of jump exercise repetitions. This is to say that, in practice, Air Alert actually builds jumping endurance, which teaches yer muscles to conserve energy, rather than to expend it in an explosive manner. Like all jump programs, it also fails to address that much of your jumping’s height comes from a combination of your core and upper body strength, as well as technique. The version I got also came with an advertised-as-new Air Alert Advanced, a further 6 weeks of yet more intensive exercise routine to add another 3-6 inches to yer leap. I did the 15 weeks of Air Alert, and, like everybody else I’ve known, I got 2-3 inches added to my vertical. After the recovery week suggested following completion of the program, I tried dunking at the church. You had better believe that I told my dad to bring his digital camera, ’cause this was gonna be a big deal. Being able to dunk was surely going to usher in a whole new era in my life. Now, I had been wrong about these sorts of things before. I had become skinny, I got a couple of nice shirts, I listened to what I though was the right unpopular music, and I had stolen some jokes, but my life largely remained the same. It seemed as though my life couldn’t be redeemed by vanity and trivialities, J still wasn’t dating me, but this would be so much more. This was dunking. This was going to be different. We went to the church, and I had the same problems as before. I could get high enough, but I couldn’t throw down. The further you extend a limb from your core, the less strength it has at its disposal. I had little upper-body strength to begin with, and, fully extended, my hand is pretty far from my body. I’d always lose the ball on the way up, or lose height putting more of my strength onto the ball. Legs can only take you so far. At my best, I’ve brought the ball to the rim, lost it, and, thanks to momentum, had the ball go off of the backboard and in. A lay-up isn’t a dunk. My knees have been crunchy ever since. After a further month of letting my joints recover, I tried my hand at Air Alert Advanced. After the first week, which consisted of 3 days of 2000 individual jumps, some of my friends reunited to play soccer at our old high school. I was proud to see that the goals we had rescued were still on the field. However, I found that my joints were so worn down that I could only run at a steady pace in a straight line. Turning, accelerating, and decelerating were all, sadly, out of the picture. I decided not to continue onto the subsequent weeks. I was still a fatuous pauper, single, and working at a shoe store while friends had gone on to do other things, so what did I manage to accomplish? Well, for starters, I gained some athletic ability for the first time in my life, which was neat. I gained a lot of leg strength, endurance, and quickness, as well as the previously mentioned 2-3 inches to my vert, all of which I treasured. Despite being the skinniest guy on the court, my legs were strong enough to anchor me in the key, and contend with guys up to double my weight. I went from being a guy who showed up to Dunkball, to becoming a guy that people wanted on their team. While others got tired throughout the night, slowly losing their vertical, I managed to jump just as frequently and just as high in my last game of the night as I could during my first. As both the tallest and the lankiest guy at Dunkball, my height advantage now increased in the air. I’d let people box me out, only to jump and reach over them. I felt so free. I was, and remain, Dunkball’s most improved player. Of course, it helps to have the advantage of having started out lower than everybody else. Once, somebody brought a friend who was taller than me. It was awful. As for dunking? Well, I could dunk small balls at the church, if I could close my hand on them. I managed to dunk a flat soccer ball on an outdoor net at a school yard once, but I never verified its height. I could dunk at the Academy chapel with the rim fully raised, though that rim sags in the front, so I’m guessing that rim was about 9’10”. Still, that won me a game of H-O-R-S-E or two. Sometimes, when warming up for Dunkball, someone would instigate a dunk competition, and I managed to develop a trademark dunk which nobody could replicate or stomach: the underhanded dunk. Norm was the only person not to loathe it, bless his heart. While I never managed to dunk on a proper 10’ net, I was able to goaltend, which has no use outside of being a dick to a friend. I was smarmy enough to do it once. Even at Dunkball, I never became much of a dunker, except on turnovers or tip-ins, or unless I had a guard who could do the work of setting me up. I’m more opportunistic than aggressive, besides, who am I going to beat off of the dribble? On my worst nights, I was still a tall guy who could jump, so I always drew the interest of a defender. I’ve always preferred defence to offence, and my favourite offensive play is to box out their post-player, either to be in a better position to rebound, or in order to prevent them from goaltending. Defence is where Air Alert made the most difference for me. They either had to box me out in order to stop me from goaltending, or try banking it in. I could sit low enough to the ground to defend outside players without losing speed. With a lower net, some players didn’t arc their shots as much, allowing me to swat them away with ease. There was nothing better than blocking a dunk. Some people took it personally, and would try coming at you on the next play; we all loved blocking Joseph. Still, the best was blocking Norm’s dunks, even if it meant landing on my back. It was summertime, the final game of the night, with uneven teams and lopsided match-ups, but, somehow, it’s neck and neck. Not only are we still in it, we’ve had the lead. Will is shooting, Nathan is hustling, and I’m blocking everything. My greatest defensive game ends prematurely after I block one of Norm’s dunks, landing horizontally, with all of my weight squarely on my tailbone and elbows. I call it a night, and, in the morning, learned that we had lost immediately after I left. At this point, I had memorized Air Alert’s number of sets and routines, and so I lent the DVD to Graham. He promised to return it soon. This was in 2010. I learned how to juggle that August, but that didn’t save me either. I kept up my jumping exercises, doing week 4 as maintenance, losing consistency once I started university that fall. Dunkball slowly lost consistency, too, and so I eventually took up the reigns of organizing it. People changed wards, got married, moved, and started families. It was hard to motivate people to come out without a guarantee. At some point, I became one of the veterans. As Dunkball continued to lose consistency, and as I went through occasional bouts of burn-out withorganizing things, Dunkball changed from being year-round into seasons, and, later, patches, of activity. The benefit of being the one to organize Dunkball is that it allowed me to filter out the jerks between patches of activity. There aren’t a ton of rules, you can make a pass off the wall, you can charge, you can play it in the hall, and goaltending is a way of life, but life is too long to spend it with people who can’t play sports without yelling. We weren’t as athletic as we once were, but the new players were generally pretty skinny, so we were still able to push them around. I stopped buying bus passes after my first year of university, which helped me to maintain most of my leg strength. While I was in university, I managed to keep most of my vertical, but my confidence became precarious, which affected my intensity. I wasn’t soaking through my shirts anymore, I started to let people push me around. After I dropped out of university, I grew into a much more sedentary lifestyle. The leg strength I had used to define myself diminished. I’ve had a really hard coping with that. At times, the prospect of playing Dunkball felt more embarrassing than motivating. I felt lost out on the court. I didn’t feel strong enough to bump around in the key, and I felt sluggish trying to play on the outside. Still, I had now been around long enough that I was able to lead a team, if necessary. I’d hide from my refuge until I felt strong enough to return. Volunteering and winter each got me walking again. Collin organized a soccer team the summer before the pandemic, which got me running and jumping again. I felt more determined, and began to feel better. No longer trapped by where I was, or where I felt I should have been, I was content with making progress. I think that I handled the early months of the pandemic better than most people. With our usual routines in disarray, I stumbled out of the feedback loop I was caught in. Finding some self-compassion and focus, I created structure to my quarantine in order to work on some goals. I was going to come out of the quarantine dunking. I was joking this time, but I need to dream about something while exercising. Otherwise, I’m just jumping in place, staring at the door. I went through weeks 1-7 of Air Alert, ending with the rest week that marks the halfway point. After which, I returned to doing week 4 to maintain strength. With churches closed, activities cancelled, and others on lockdown, I started secretly meeting Nik on Saturdays to shoot the ball around. This was back when we were allowed to keep small circles of contacts. The benefit of having keys. The only downside was that the building didn’t have any air circulation outside of facilities management’s offices. Regarding the pandemic, our city still didn’t have any cases of community transmission. Two of us shooting the ball around became three, and soon we were playing 2-on-2. Dunkball was back, baby! Sans the titular Dunkball, which had gone missing, stolen by missionaries. I knew that it was only a matter of time before they got rid of the Academy chapel, so I was really motivated to play as much as we could while it was still safe. It took us a little bit before we managed to get six players out on the same day, and we still ended up playing 2’s some nights. We weren’t getting many guys out, but we always had good games. Everyone who came out hustled and was a solid atmosphere guy. We’d mostly play best-of-5 or 7 game series, maybe switching teams up for a final game or two. The series managed to stay pretty tight, with nobody ever reaching a dynasty. Facilities management leaves the building at 5:30, and, with nobody else around, our secret combination was free to schedule Dunkball whenever we pleased. We were playing twice some weeks. We were able to accommodate people’s schedule. Marvin, my favourite teammate, was able to come out. I hadn’t been able to play with him in years. A high percentage of our small group of players were relatively new to the game. It was really exciting to see them develop, even if Jason blocked me that one time. I had found my place again, having regained some of my leg strength and quickness. My core and upper-body strength, elusive at the best of times, had become memories, but I worked around that. My game is mostly designed with those absences in mind anyways. Consequently, my play became much more lateral, rather than vertical, after the 4th and, later, 5th game, as Collin noted. I also managed a new trick or two, like learning to bait people into banking their shot, and then blocking it off of the backboard for a quick turnover. My intensity was up, or at least the A/C was down. I was soaking through my shirts again, and I was happy. It was a hot and humid summer. I missed Jason’s birthday, so I brought some blackout chocolate banana bread to celebrate. As it turns out, a thick moist cake is not refreshing when you’re exhausted and sitting around in a hot and stuffy room you’ve spent the past 2-3 hours further heating up with yer friends. Collin became the MVP the following week when he brought a box of freezies with him. All my life, I had never seen their true worth or potential. I took them for granted in my youth, and turned my nose up at them as I grew older. Now I understood. I had Dunkball, I had friendly players who responded when I tried organizing things, we had freezies, and, as the Ward Clerk, I had convinced my Bishop that we should buy a new ball (despite the fact that playing at the Church was still verboten.) I was grateful, but I still longed for a day where we had more than 4-6 players, so that we could have subs between games. It’s nice to be able to switch up teams between games, rather than trying to push Arles all night. It’s even nicer to sit down every once in a while, especially after failing to push Arles around. Our province was still fairly safe, but that was beginning to change. Two regulars had at risk family members, and we began seeing community transmission. I planned to end what was to be the penultimate season of Dunkball after Labour Day. I was concerned what would happen once the school year started. Before then, we had eight* people come out to Dunkball one morning. Four pairs of family members, in fact. This gave us rotations between games, and a variety of playing styles, leading to more interesting match-ups and dynamics. Whoever loses would get to take a break; excitement was in the air! I questioned Collin’s choice of shoes. He reminded me that I’m solely responsible for their condition. I lend Collin my shoes. He likes the shoes, and I like his freezies. *the ideal amount is 8-9 people Shoot for teams: Graham, Collin, and I hit our shots. Collin has speed, Graham has range and strength, I have the height, and we all rebound. We win the first game easily, manage to survive the second, and win our third. Dynasty! Shoot for teams again, and I’m back on the floor with David and Marvin. David anchors the key, allowing me to cheat on defence, while Marvin generates offence and creates mismatches. We all defend. Three more wins, and it’s another dynasty! Marvin and I sit this time, and watch as Jacob (handles), Graham, and Jason (positioning) steal the game. Marvin and I go back on with Limhi, a guard heavy team playing an post-player’s game. They shoot and pass, drawing out the defence, while I set picks, prevent goaltending, and try to clean up on the boards. They cover the outside, while I guard the inside. When the other team goes to the inside, I make their post-player turn away from the net, where either Marvin or Limhi, cheating off of their man, are waiting to strip them of the ball. We win the first game, taking back the floor. They carry me through the second. Last game of the day, and the other team starts to fall apart. As per tradition, we extend the game, but only to to 15, because only Graham and I want to play to 21. We stumble as they regroup, but Jacob gets frustrated, and their chemistry falters. I assume that I’m to blame, become self-conscious, and begin calling fouls on myself whenever I make any contact with the other team. Of course, this happens on every play, because I’m trying to box out my brother. I get some weird looks as David sighs, he just wants it to be over. I get a clean stop, Limhi scores, and the day ends on a third dynasty. I remain undefeated. Freezies for everyone! That was the third to last time we played Dunkball. We had another night with six players, and ended the season with a morning of playing 2-on-2, after which we ran out of freezies. I was optimistic that we’d be back playing sometime in the New Year. We barely registered a first wave of the pandemic, but restrictions ended prematurely, and school started back up. Cases kept climbing. I was scared in October, but that was only the beginning. When we first started playing Dunkball that summer, our province was first in the country. By Christmas, we had become the worst. We began to curb the number of new cases, but restrictions were eased before hospitals finished dealing with the second wave. In May, we began transferring patients to other provinces. For some reason, the plan is to reopen in July. For some reason, a duo tried organizing ball in March. I declined. Our congregation was changing buildings, so Nik and I went over to grab some stuff. I found that our Dunkball had gone missing again, but I found the original Dunkball, which hasn’t held air since 2015, and brought it home. In April, facilities management began clearing out the Academy chapel, in anticipation of listing the building for sale. They didn’t inform our Bishop until later that week. He went over to pack anything worth keeping, only to have found that they had already junked everything belonging to our congregation, as well everything belonging to the Yazidi community group that had been meeting there prior to the pandemic. I don’t know the building’s current status. Nik and I kept our keys in the hopes of playing again, but it’s unlikely that things will be safe to go back to normal in time. Dunkball exists as a time and a place: Thursday nights after Institute class at Academy. Last fall, they moved institute classes over to the stake centre. The Academy building is being sold now, and Dunkball is over as we know it. As I previously mentioned, I lent Graham, the Gordie Howe of Dunkball, my Air Alert DVD and booklet back in 2010. For the past ten years now, he has meant to return it, only for it to slip his mind. I usually forget about it, myself, only for him to remind me when he apologizes. In the moment, I sorta feel guilty that he worries about it. I mean, it’s fine, I don’t need it. He’s put it on his desk, he’s placed it by the door, and though he’s either seen me or a member of my family at least once a week for the past decade, my copy of Air Alert still hasn’t made its way back to me. I’m not even sure that I want it back, but I appreciate his sincerity. It’s become tradition for him to maintain this false tension between us. At this point, I’d hate to see it go. What if this tension is what’s sustained our friendship throughout all these years? What if Graham’s only been coming out to Dunkball because he feels guilty? I won’t see him at Dunkball anymore, and, as of this week, he won’t be seeing me at church anymore. It’s things like this that keep us alive. I hope that Graham never returns my copy of Air Alert, but I hope that he always tries. ”There is no end to matter, There is no end to space, There is no end to Dunkball, There is no end to race.” - If You Could Hie to Kolob Dunkball, by W.W. Phelps.

I could have gone on about my legs, honestly. Now, I only included those formative texts that I’m willing to admit are still a part of me. I did not include those works whose influences I feel that I have repented of, which is why the 1967 Patterson-Gimlin footage of Bigfoot from Bluff Creek, California, The Weezer Video Capture Device, Newsies, The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny, nor anything related to Dorm Life or MST3K are not included on my ballot. In any case, I’m sorry not to have found room for Johnny Guitar.

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sarahreesbrennan · 4 years

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Could you speak about Nick's heroic moment that impressed you? You mentioned Sabrina's heroic moment that impressed you (Lupercalia) and Harvey's heroic moment that impressed you (saving the witches) so I wondered if you had a Nick moment!

Buckle up kids, it’s time for me to get emosh about Nick Scratch!

Yes I do have a Nick moment, and I am happy that you asked about him! (Apologies for taking so long to reply to this and other CAOS questions I have in the queue, life has been a frenzied whirligig.) I know the rules of love triangles, and one must play fair.

(It has been interesting writing a proper love triangle, which I hadn’t before, and seeing the many reactions to it. I have one friend who was for Harvey in book 2, but in book 3 she switched to Nick. I have one friend who still loves Harvey and was mad he only got one POV chapter in book 3. I have my father, who is scandalized by the thought of love triangles and wishes for people to Commit to Each Other, and is firmly Team Nabrina and Harvalind without knowing either of those ship names! I Cannot and Will Never tell my father about the sex demons.)

I think everybody noticed the moment where Nick Scratch sacrificed himself to Satan to save Sabrina and also the world. It’s such a big moment and a big sacrifice that it instantly makes many forgive him for all his mistakes. And it’s the very end of that part, and I’ve noticed with Netflix binges even more than with usual TV, the end is the bit that sticks most with people and leaves the deepest impression. You can’t just click on the next episode. You have to sit with what happened.

That moment of heroism wasn’t overlooked. But early in Part 3, we see inside Nick’s mind in hell, and after weeks of torment he’s still fighting. Wrestling the fallen angel, as Jacob wrestled the angel, and saying no, he won’t give up. The kind of heroism that struggles on, and on, even when it’s tough and thankless, is more difficult than impulsively going down in a blaze of glory. It’s hard to feel good about that kind of fight. It isn’t glorious, it isn’t flashy, and it takes bedrock strength and rare courage. I was so impressed by that moment, and I did worry it would be lost, since Nick’s wild acting out from trauma and satanic possession follows. That inspired Nick’s plotline in Path of Night--to think about how Nick was tormented, and how and why he was able to resist the Dark Lord.

Writing Nick’s POV in hell in Path of Night was tricky, as I couldn’t save him and I knew he would be in a dark place even after being saved! Had I been told people would be reading about a fan favorite character being trapped and tormented while stuck in their homes due to pandemic... I don’t know what I would have done. (I mean, I would have asked the time traveler giving me these tips to give me lottery numbers, please.) I hope I would have been brave and written him the same way I did.

Book 1 (Season of the Witch) is the family-focused book, because Part 1 is about family coming through for Sabrina, and ends on her toasting them at home. Book 2 (Daughter of Chaos) is the romance-focused book, because Part 2 has many people starting new relationships and exploring what relationships mean to them, and ends with Nick coming through for Sabrina. Book 3 had to be the friendship-focused book, as Part 3 had Sabrina on missions with her friends, who were coming through for her by going to hell and fighting monsters and knowing what was up with her at last.

It couldn’t be about Sabrina and Nick’s romance, any more than Book 1 could really be about Harvey and Sabrina’s romance, because I was foreshadowing a breakup in both books. Both relationships were loving, but terribly damaged by lies (for which I blame Satan!). And all of these people need to find out who they truly are.

A character who only works in a romance isn’t a good character, and I think Nick is a good character. So when you’re examining a character on their own, you have to pose and answer these questions: who IS this person? What do they care about? How can they be taken apart, and put back together? Consent in CAOS is a big and thorny theme, (and a big and thorny subject generally!), and is discussed extensively in Daughter of Chaos, and that plays out in Path of Night, where Nick has his selfhood stripped away from him and has to try and claim it.

The epigraph for the book is a Dostoevsky quote: ‘Hell is the suffering of being unable to love.’ Nick says himself in Part 1 that Satan doesn’t want his servants to love, and hell is Satan’s kingdom, a place of utter loneliness. What do you do, in a book about friendship, with the plotline set in hell?

The truly lost are those who don’t realize they are lonely in hell. Lilith is ruling hell but missing Greendale, because Lilith underneath it all is a team player--she tried to be on Lucifer’s team for millennia until he made it clear there would never be any reward for her work, and in Part 3 she tries to be on Sabrina’s team, and goes to Zelda for help as an ally. There’s hope for Caliban, because in his reaching out for Sabrina, we see he can be lonely in hell. And what about Nick, in the lowest point of that lonely place?

I like someone who’ll do epic things for their love, but I don’t like when a character only cares about their love--I think that’s small-hearted. Fortunately I don’t think Nick’s that kind of character at all. He undoubtedly loves Sabrina dearly, but he also had a breakdown about being expelled from school, and even under Satan’s dire influence he found a nice white shirt and came to a magic ceremony because he wanted to be part of it: he cares about community. But his is a community in which caring is forbidden, so caring about that community is a paradox in itself which many of the witches have to deal with, forcing them to lie to themselves and each other. (Zelda and Prudence, very much caught in this trap.) Nick and Prudence both project an air of confidence, but Prudence was literally willing to be consumed in order to matter, and Nick willing to be consumed in order to be loved. (But what is there to love, if you’re consumed?)

Nick’s acting out under the influence of Lucifer in Part 3 is like Harvey being impelled to his father’s violence by Lucifer, though it goes much deeper: that influence brings out the specific dark impulses you DO have, while you might never have acted on them. A lot of Nick’s dark impulses are based on insecurity and his terrible coping mechanisms for dealing with that insecurity: he was gutted when expelled because he doesn’t have a home to belong to. He was raised (and abused) by someone possessive and murderous, who told him as abusers do that only she could love him, and then tragically his community’s ethos confirmed that belief for him. He mentions in Part 1 that he envies mortals because they can love. He’s told by his community that what matters is Satanic power, so he’s instantly made insecure by Caliban Prince of Hell, but he’s also insecure about Harvey because of the idea only mortals can love and be loved, and he’s afraid he can’t be loved by Sabrina as she loves this mortal. Of course, that worry itself makes it plain to us Nick is fully capable of love and of being loved, but that is anything but clear to him.

The witches are starving for love, and that’s love in all senses of the word. Sabrina does a ton to save and help Nick (to the point of overlooking her own pain and betrayal), but she can’t do it on her own because nobody can: everybody needs a net of community to catch them.

I mentioned that Book 3 was about friendship because it sets up Part 3, in which friends come through for each other. Nick’s part of that. Sabrina isn’t the only one who comes for him in hell: the mortals came too, and that’s important. Nick’s the witch who is always talking about and interested in mortals, and it was interesting to explore in Path of Night how that came to be. He’s also protective of the mortals--all the witches know mortals die easily, it’s why they call them that--but Nick came to protect Harvey in Part 1, and in Part 2 argued with Sabrina that mortals shouldn’t be fighting Satan as Sabrina planned to fight Satan. Obviously he cares about Sabrina more than he cares about them, but he worries about the mortals in the same way you’d be much more concerned about a toddler toddling into battle than a ninja, even if you were in love with the ninja. It says something about a person, when their impulse is to shield the vulnerable rather than target them.

In Path of Night it was interesting to explore the potential for friendship with the mortals for Nick. Roz and he have a lot in common, as the big readers of their groups, and were open to being charmed by each other in Part 2. Theo would be an amazing friend for anyone, as he’s ride-or-die for his friends, and also very clear-eyed about them. (Not being romantically interested in them helps with that.) It would obviously be good for both Nick and Harvey to start seeing the other as a person rather than an avatar for their own insecurity. And at the end of Part 3, when Sabrina was off in hell and he certainly wasn’t trying to win her favor, Nick showed up when the mortals called, stayed for them, and fought for them. In another time, he died for them. They came for him, and he came for them. Showing up is a good start. I always love a character who shows up: Sabrina constantly, Ambrose and Hilda and Zelda fighting their god for love, Harvey squaring his shoulders and going in to shoot his brother, Theo hurling his own body at the gates of hell.

But the mortals aren’t Nick’s friends yet: they don’t really know him, and Harvey is triggered by lies, which Nick has had to live by. There is someone, though, who does know him. The big romantic plotline of Path of Night is Prudence and Ambrose coming together on adventures far from home, and the thread about friendship there is that Ambrose is working out whether Prudence likes Nick romantically, or Ambrose himself. In Part 1, Prudence is spiky with Nick because he just dumped her and her sisters (as told in book 1). In Part 3, she’s mad at him and tells Sabrina they don’t work as a couple because she has no time for men who betray women, and Prudence is mad at him in Book 3 too. But in Book 2 and Part 2, she’s helping Nick, hanging out with him, and talking him up to Sabrina. It’s Ambrose, the oldest of the coded-young characters and one of the few with a loving home, who sees and names Prudence’s feelings for Nick, for whom she has a pet name. It’s complicated, in their world and with their respective pain, but he is her friend. She’s the one he opens up to at the end of Part 3.

But Nick doesn’t know Prudence is his friend. Lucifer, known as the Father of Lies, systematically takes apart Nick in Path of Night, to get him to the place he’s in when we hit Part 3. He has to convince Nick that what Nick always feared is true: nobody cares. There’s the physical torture element, which I touch on lightly but enough to be clear it happened, but wrestling with inner demons means more. To quote Faulkner, ‘the only thing worth writing about is the human heart at conflict with itself.’ Nick imagines sleeping a lot throughout Path of Night, imagines peace (another epigraph for a Nick chapter is Dante’s ‘Peace to your hungry soul’), but he’s not really sleeping and there’s never any peace--I deliberately made him more and more tired as the story goes on. Not only tired, but sick at heart as the devil tempts him: he’s offered books, a return to childhood and his mother, a return to school, the story of epic romance he wants to be the hero of, mortal acceptance and affection, and finally Prudence as a friend he trusts to tell him the truth. When he uses his sharp mind to discern flaws in all Lucifer’s illusion he’s shown just enough reality to hurt him. (Harvey and Sabrina have much pain and history to work out and there’s love there, as shown by the two names on Sabrina’s candle, but Sabrina and the Fright Club are all risking their lives to save Nick, and Lucifer sure doesn’t want Nick to realize that: Lucifer’s trying to induce despair.)

When we see how someone is tempted we also see what they value. In Nick’s case it’s his mother’s love, his mother’s books, a home, romantic love from Sabrina, mortal connection, friends, his school and the opportunities for relationships and knowledge it offers. Then we see everything Nick wants stripped away from him, exposed as illusion. To quote from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, one of CAOS’s forebears in the genre and because I love Buffy, ‘Take all that away, and what’s left?’ The answer is ‘Me.’ When all that’s left is you, then you just might be enough. Even if you always feared you wouldn’t be.

At the end of Path of Night, I couldn’t have Nick be saved, or even have Nick realize he was worth saving, but I wanted the ending to be as happy for him as it could be, by showing my audience that there was hope for him to be found, in all senses of the word. I wanted the reader to feel they’d learned more about who he was, gained understanding of his flaws, that there was greatness in him despite said flaws. Sabrina and the mortals ARE coming to rescue him. Prudence DOES care about him. And saying no, in that loneliest and darkest place, meant something.

So. That’s Nick’s hero moment for me.

#chilling adventures of sabrina #caos #nick scratch #nabrina #sabrina spellman #prudence blackwood #harvey kinkle #theo putnam #roz walker #zelda spellman #ambrose spellman #hilda spellman #path of night #caos books #lilith #prince caliban

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highly-opinionated-ramblings · 4 years

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Batshipping masterpost

Sometimes asking yourself the question “what would it take for me to ship these two characters together?” helps you come up with really really good stories that you otherwise might never have thought of!

Very fun writing exercise. Do recommend.

ANYWAY. I like Batman, so I asked myself this question about him, and these were the results!

(Featuring: Catwoman, Riddler, Twoface, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Azrael, Mr. Freeze, Clayface, Superman, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, and Aquaman)

What would it take for me to ship Batman with that character? A few key ingredients:

If they are/were a villain, a redemption of sorts. A slow process of coming to terms and actively deciding “yeah, that’s not who I am anymore.”

A connection, a distinct moment where they’re able to talk to Batman as more than just an old enemy or a League ally. A spark that generates interest in developing the relationship further.

An establishment of explicit trust. This usually comes in the form of Bruce revealing his identity to the other and trusting them (maybe tentatively at first, but even so) not to give it away.

An introduction to the kids. I am one hundred percent positive that this is, for the vast majority, not a voluntary action on Batman’s part. But if you raise nine kids to be detectives, you can’t expect to keep secrets from them for long! And once they know you’ve been sleeping with that former villain, you’re going to have to justify that to them somehow.

Then the whole cycle starts again as the villain redeems themselves in the eyes of the kids and gains their trust and acceptance too. Good stuff.

Note: my interpretations of these characters are entirely my own and by no means do all of them line up with any sort of canon. I just sort of do whatever.

Also: some of the bullet points below address some of the mental health problems in the villains, so proceed at your own discretion.

Catwoman: I really like the Gotham tv show’s dynamic between Bruce and Selina, which is to say, they were childhood friends with an early attraction to one another, but had a falling out sometime around the very beginnings of Bruce actually becoming Batman. She spends a few years as a professional thief. He sends her to prison a few times. But eventually she settles down and opens up a casino or whatever, where she deals information under the table. Alfred and the kids know her these days as an ally rather than enemy. So it’s just a matter of her realizing that her attraction to Bruce is deeper than originally assumed, and that if she wants to be with him she has to really dedicate herself to that idea, and for him to realize that she’s being serious and that he needs to prioritize spending time with her over obsessing over his work.

Bruce takes his mask off dramatically, saying something along the lines of “it’s me, Selina” and she’s like “yeah I know.” “What?” “You do this thing where you pace back and forth and nod your head up and down when you’re thinking. Never known anyone else who did that but Bruce Wayne.” “...Oh.”

Childhood friends interpretation is also great because Alfred already knows her and likes her. And she has all these embarrassing stories about 14 year old Bruce to share, which means that even the most resistant of the kids warm up to her right away.

Riddler: the first line in his Arkham file is that he has an obsessive need for attention. And Bruce KNOWS that. But it takes years for it to occur to him, incredibly sleep-deprived and staring down one of Ed’s death traps that he really, really doesn’t want to deal with today....what would happen if he just, y’know, gives it to him? The attention that he wants? And the results are instantaneous. It’s like the floodgates are open and Ed just can’t stop talking. It starts out snide and derogatory, the same way he usually talks to Batman, but the longer it goes on the more it deteriorates into something oddly helpless and vulnerable. Bruce has been so used to cocky, swaggering Ed that it never really occurred to him that this was someone suffering, who needed help. So he sits down and does his best to convince Ed that he’s not going to take him in (how many times has he been sent to Arkham? And what good has it done him, really?) and they talk. He leaves out of necessity (bank robbery in progress, says Barbara’s voice in his ear) but he goes back the next day, and again after that. Ed gets attention from Bruce without having to resort to crime to get it. Bruce gets a break from head busting and an outlet for some of the stale energy inside his head. They tell each other riddles and play strategy games and get to know each other, for real this time.

Ed stops worrying so much about proving that he’s smarter than Batman. Instead he channels all that energy into uncovering Bruce’s secret identity. It’s just another one of their games. Bruce has kept that secret for a long time and he’s confident he can keep it up, but Ed’s always alert waiting for him to slip up, to leave a clue

Option 1 for how he finds out: he sets up an elaborate trap, making it seem like he’s in danger and the only way to save him is for Bruce to take his mask off, so he does. Ed is outraged. “REALLY? BRUCE WAYNE? FUCKING REALLY?” he yells, dropping all pretense of being in danger. The robots he made for this setup drop like puppets with cut strings. Bruce gets ready to Fight.

Option 2: Some other villain reveals Bruce’s identity before he gets the chance (Arkhamverse style). Ed is outraged. “HOW DARE YOU LET ANYONE ELSE BUT ME DO THAT” he yells while Bruce tries his best to ignore him and focus on calling the JL to fix the whole situation somehow

Option 3: Bruce just tells him. Ed is outraged. “I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO FIGURE IT OUT YOU IDIOT”

The kids are Not Happy about Bruce dating Gotham’s Most Annoying Super Villain

Twoface: again I gotta go with the whole ‘they were friends when they were younger and Bruce had a raging crush on him’ setup. Cause that adds a whole layer to Bruce’s part of the story, watching Harvey become Twoface and assuming responsibility for locking him up every time he gets out. One day something happens in Gotham- string of murders or something, it’s not important really what it is. Bruce goes after the person responsible and his trail leads him to Harvey. So he busts into the safe house, intending to intimidate anything Harvey knows out of him, and then throw him back in Blackgate. “Ohohoho, noooooo, you got this all wrong,” Harvey says when he figures out what Batman’s getting at. “That motherfucker put a dozen of my men in the ground. This is personal. You want me to tell you what I know, you’re going to take me with you.” And Bruce agrees. Cause he knows Harvey’s got a certain moral code that he can be trusted to stick to, and it’s the most painless way of getting what he wants from him anyway. Working with Harvey is weird, though. He shoots a couple of goons going after Batman and gives him that lopsided smile, says “I’ve got your back,” and suddenly Bruce is like 20 again and Harvey is bringing him a coffee, smiling. During their chase they have a dramatic rooftop showdown with whoever it is they’re chasing. Bruce turns around just in time to see one of the thugs push Twoface over the edge. He gets caught up in the moment and practically screams, “Harvey!” Of course, he’s able to dramatically swoop in and save him, though it’s a pretty close call. When Harvey comes to he sits up and says quietly, “It’s been a long time since anyone’s called my name like that, did we have that kind of relationship?” and Bruce panics and tries to brush it off as his imagination, but Harvey shakes his head and says “once you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it, man. It’s you under there, isn’t it, Bruce?” And it turns out that knowing Bruce’s real identity turned out to be exactly what Harvey needed. Cause he can identify some of the duality he feels about himself in Batman, now. They spend some more time together, talking some of that out, and it doesn’t take long for Bruce’s crush to return en force.

Poison Ivy: He lets her go. He knew she was at that scene, and she knows he saw her, but he lets her go, cause it wasn’t a big deal. No one died, relatively little property damage, and that jerk deserved it anyway. The next day there’s a potted plant sitting on GCPD’s doorstep and they call Batman thinking it might be dangerous, but it’s just a lovely specimen of a rare flower, which he knows is her way of saying thanks. (He doesn’t let the police know that, though. He just puts it in the back of the Batmobile and tells them it’s nothing he can’t handle). He takes it home with him and treats it well. And she knows it, can kind of sense it, distantly. They have a few more run ins over the course of the next few months and they take it easy on each other, having this sort of mutually unspoken agreement. Eventually something happens for her to need to talk to Batman, so she digs her roots in deep and finds that flower...in the garden at Wayne Manor. She leaves a message for Batman and they meet up and talk about whatever she needed. She doesn’t mention the Manor, so he asks about it. She just shrugs and mentions something about Bruce Wayne’s recent efforts in protecting the environment. “Maybe we’re not as different as I thought, after all.” They give each other more little presents from afar. One day she sees him hanging around (where she knows he knows she can see him), and drops by to talk. He offers her a ride home and ends up spending the night.

This one I think he owns up to before the kids can figure it out. Pam’s a good source of information, and if he was desperate he’d call her even with all of them watching. They’d all think he’d been bewitched, of course. It’d take a while to convince them all otherwise.

Harley Quinn: all it takes is for him to get his first glimpse of the real her and decide that Joker victims need to stick together and help other Joker victims. After the breakup and the subsequent recovery, she’s living free (albeit under Constant Surveillance) in Gotham, and he checks in every once in a while, just to make sure she’s doing ok and not reverting to her previous, Joker-driven, rocket-fueled bad habits. One day there’s an incident in her neighborhood- maybe someone was going after her and Bruce was there protecting her, or maybe it wasn’t related to her at all. Regardless, it’s her who finds him after the explosion and takes him home and gives him first aid. He’s groggy and panicky when he first wakes up in a strange place (not a hospital, not the cave) with an IV drip in his arm (he’s not in a hospital, where did that come from!). It gets worse when he realizes that his mask was blown right off his face in the blast. It gets SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE when Harley appears in his field of vision, waving around a tablet pulled up to Bruce Wayne’s wikipedia page, in full psychologist mode, ranting about how he’s been going about dealing with his childhood trauma All Wrong. But they talk, and she promises not to give his secret away. “What would I have to gain from that? You’d stop coming to visit me then!” It takes a while for the two of them to figure out exactly what’s going on between them but once they’re both sure the others’ intentions are good, they develop a good, strong relationship.

Bonus points if, at any point in the above time space, she walks up to him one day and hands him an unmarked usb drive. “What’s on this?” “My daughter.” “What.” “My daughter! Her location and everything about her.” “Is she...Joker’s?” “I dunno. Could have been him or any one of a number of other guys. Mistah J threw some really wild parties. *shrug* The only part that really matters to me is that she’s mine. And if anything ever happens to me, she’ll need someone to look out for her, y’know?” “And that’s me???” “Well, helping people in need is one of your compulsions, after all. Especially kids, or else you wouldn’t have so many of your own.”

I usually imagine Jason as one of the ones kind of sticking up for Batman, citing how crime has all but disappeared since he started sleeping with whatever particular villain and that who are they to police who Bruce shares his bed with anyway (BONUS bonus points if he’s just entering the early stages of coming to terms with his own bisexuality and never realized that Bruce was bi, too), but that wouldn’t be the case with Harley. He’d feel pretty hurt about that, I think. On the other hand: Dick has been around since Harley’s debut on the scene, and has always thought of her as relatively harmless and even respected her to a degree, as a fellow acrobat, so he’s cool with her dating Bruce

Azrael: His JL team goes on hiatus for a little while, so he calls Bruce up like “uhhh, I don’t really have much of anywhere else to go, so can I come back to Gotham for a while?” And Bruce tells him that they’re actually experiencing a pretty calm stretch for a change, but yeah, he can come if he wants. At first he’s excited because he’s never been invited to the actual, og Batcave, but there really IS nothing going on. He meets Alfred, who offers him tea. He meets Steph and Tim, out of masks, lounging on the couch playing Street Fighter. They assure him that if literally anything happens, one of their gajillion alert systems will let them know. He goes off in search of Bruce, finds him sitting at the kitchen table making his way through a veritable mountain of paperwork. Eventually he admits that he doesn’t really know what to do with himself in the downtime. “I usually try to use time like this to do things for Bruce Wayne, instead of for Batman,” Bruce explains. “You should do something for Michael Lane, while you have the chance.” “But...but...but I’ve been Azrael full-time for years now...” “Alright, well, what did you like to do before you were Azrael?” “UHH...” Before he can short-circuit too much trying to come up with an actual answer to that question, Bruce puts aside his paperwork and takes his arm. They get in the car and Bruce takes him to like a hobby shop or something. They buy model kits and a cookbook and some yarn (”one of the kids can teach you”), and he promises that one of these days they’ll clear some space on the lawn to play football. Michael hasn’t experienced this level of anyone caring for his well-being probably ever? and all he can do is stammer something about “is there anything I can do for Bruce Wayne in return?” “You can keep me company while I file all my paperwork, I guess.” So he sits at the table across from Bruce and builds his little ATAT model kit feeling happier than he has in a long time. Bruce can tell that a little more attention would do him good, so they spend some more time hanging out which leads to having some deep conversations and building up feelings for each other, it’s all very cute

Right at the beginning of Michael developing his crush on Bruce he realizes that something’s different, but doesn’t quite realize what it is, and his mind jumps to the worst case scenario right away. He locks himself in his room, calls Bruce at work, panicking, and says he thinks his St. Dumas brainwashed obsession with Bruce might be coming back. Bruce tells him to calm down, they’ll run some tests. All the tests come back negative, but Michael is visibly shaken, so Bruce offers for him to hang around Gotham a little longer so they can monitor him, which is what leads to his extended stay in Gotham

Mr. Freeze: One day something changes. One day the realization finally, finally clicks into place. There’s a huge floating JL base in the sky and aliens living on Earth and people coming back from the dead and healing from miraculous injuries and plagues all the time. If it was going to happen to him, it would have happened by now. It’s over. Nora’s not coming back. That day he laces up his boots and loads his gun and walks over to the little diner on the corner and wrecks it. Batman gets the call, and obviously he knows that something’s different, this isn’t Vic’s MO, but he goes anyway, of course. Vic blasts away at him with his freeze gun, wildly, recklessly, screaming and ranting the whole time. Bruce dodges out of view, and Vic transfers his aggressions to the nearest object in sight: a table. He blasts that thing in half, and then in half again, and keeps going until it’s nothing but splinters and he’s just standing there, gasping for breath. “Victor,” says Bruce from behind him, “tell me what’s wrong.” “Nora’s dead,” Vic mumbles under his breath. Bruce comes around to face him and Vic is looking at him with THE SADDEST puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. (I know what you’re thinking right now. “Mr. Freeze can’t do puppy dog eyes.” You’re WRONG, I’m telling you) “That’s the first time I’ve ever said that out loud, I think... I d-don’t...I don’t know what to do…” and Bruce is like, darn, I can’t take this fool to jail. So he brings him back to his chilly lair instead and sits him down and talks him through it a little. Leaves him with a phone number to call if it gets real bad again, but makes the first call to check up on him later anyway. This one is a sloooow burn, it takes Vic MONTHS to get over Nora, couple weeks to realize he MIGHT? be developing feelings for Bruce, couple more weeks to wrestle with the guilt of that. Learning Bruce’s identity is the thing that really brings all of it to a head. Maybe there’s an attempt on Bruce Wayne’s life and later that day Batman shows up with the same pattern of lacerations on his cheek, or broken leg, or whatever. Vic’s not an idiot. He can put two and two together. When Bruce finally takes off the helmet in front of him, it’s a huge relief. To be able to say “I know what it’s like to lose people” and for Vic to know he’s not just talking about heroing. They get closer and closer from there. Their relationship is a weird one, with a lot of compromises to make, but they do the best they can.

The kids don’t particularly mind Bruce going out with Vic. He’s not so much a villain as he is just a guy who’s been dealt a bad hand in life and done the best he could with it. But having around makes the already-cool cave soooo much colder, which isn’t so fun.

Clayface: There hasn’t been an incident with Clayface in years. He’s older, little calmer, little more mature (I like the New 52 plotline of him joining Kate’s crime busting team, but this little scenario works even without that part thrown in). Still, when Bruce hears he’s back in town, he figures he should probably pay him a visit anyway. Just in case he’s planning something. But he goes to the address he was given, some apartment building in Kingston, opens the door, and finds Basil. Not Clayface, Basil Karlo, sitting in a chair by the window reading a paper. “Haven’t seen that face on you in a while,” he says, still unsure if it’s a trick or not. “Oh,” Basil shrugs, unsure if he should be worried about being tossed in jail again or not. “Well, it’s my face. The one I’m most familiar with, takes the least amount of concentration to keep up with. I did make some changes, though, see? Few gray hairs, few lines on my face. Do I look older?” “Yes. It’s a good look.” He keeps checking in with him, cause you can never be too careful, and then because he actually starts to enjoy Basil’s company. Their relationship is one of the more light-hearted ones on this list. They get wine drunk and make out on the roof of the apartment building, very giggly.

“If I learned anything at Arkham, it’s that there are some things that you know are wrong with you, but there are also things that are wrong with you that you aren’t even aware of, and that you couldn’t identify or fix even if you tried.” “One of the psychologists told you that?” “No. I shared a cell with Tetch for a few weeks. That dude is so much more messed up than you realize.”

Superman: Clark calls him up saying something about a mystery in Metropolis that has everyone stumped, and maybe the World’s Greatest Detective wouldn’t mind helping him out? So Bruce drops by to lend him a hand. The ‘mystery’ turns out to be a group of unfamiliar aliens who’re out to get Superman (I don’t care why. Maybe they’re holding some kind of grudge, maybe they’re bounty hunters, maybe they want to sell him off into space-gladiator slavery, whatever). These antagonistic aliens have been very careful in their preparations- they’ve done all the math, and come up with special weapons specifically designed to hit Superman hard enough to knock him out. But they didn’t plan on Batman being there with him, which throws them off just enough that Superman is able to chase them off successfully. In the midst of that fight, though, Bruce takes a hit. A hit calculated for Superman. It breaks several of his ribs and punctures a lung. Clark panics, scoops him up and flies him to the nearest hospital at record speeds. They’re able to stabilize him at Metropolis, and then they send him back to the Watchtower for further treatment. When he wakes up he’s pretty disoriented and confused, but Clark (who had been listening for a change in his breathing and heartbeat from a couple rooms away) comes rushing in, ushering him back to bed and promising to explain everything. Bruce is woozy and wonky enough from whatever drugs they gave him that he lays back down and lets Clark hold his hand protectively without argument. He listens to Clark’s explanation, mumbles something about calling Alfred, and promptly falls back asleep. Clark feels so guilty about his injury that he won’t leave his side for weeks, even following him back to Gotham once he’s well enough to leave the Watchtower.

“God, when will they finally just kiss already,” Jason says, taking cover with the rest of the family in the cave. “I know, right,” says Steph while Tim, Cass, and Duke (and Alfred) all nod in agreement. “SHUT UP,” yells Damian, having a hard time adapting to the idea of his dad and his best friend’s dad getting together

Any Superbat is good Superbat but I enjoy it best in the context of ‘they’re old enough by now to be embarrassed about how angsty and competitive they were when they first met, and they both have huge extended families, and the rest of the JL has been watching them dance around each other for YEARS, JUST KISS ALREADY DAMMIT’

Wonder Woman: I don’t usually imagine Bruce as a flustered kind of guy, but Wonder Woman is everything he wants to be when he grows up and he can’t help it. She’s so effortlessly cool, calm, and collected. And she’s a natural charmer, the public loves her. She always manages to come at things with a fresh perspective that has helped unstick his too-logical train of thought numerous times. She paid him a compliment once and he sat in the batmobile in the parking lot thinking about it for like twenty minutes. One day they get assigned to a League PR thing together that turns into an assassination attempt (surprising no one), but everything turns out ok. Minor damage to the surrounding buildings, a few people injured in the mass chaos, that’s all. She goes looking for him after returning from talking to the local cops, and finds him with a toddler girl on his hip, holding hands with her six yo sister, helping them look for their parents. And she just has to stop and marvel for a minute at how soft his voice is??? How the toddler isn’t even crying??? He bends down to hug the little girl bye after returning her to her fam and Diana almost has a heart attack. “I see that the gods have blessed you with an affinity for children of all ages,” she says. By the time he straightens back up he’s Batman again. “What do you mean by that?” “I can never get kids to warm up to me like that in situations like these...I always thought it was because I was just too big and imposing. How did you do it?” “Oh. Well. You know. *gestures vaguely* You just gotta give them what they want.” “And what is that?” “Security. A promise of safety from an adult that they can trust.” She doesn’t quite get it but she watches him, and talks to his sidekicks sometimes. It amazes her how much kindness and love are hidden under that mask of his. When he smiles from the heart he could melt glaciers. So she starts to press, just a little, just to see how he’ll respond. And once she figures out exactly how flustered he can get, too, it’s all downhill from there.

Martian Manhunter: This one is literally one of the sweetest, most pure relationship dynamics I think I’ve ever written, which really caught me by surprise! The way I think of it is like this: When they first meet, Bruce is really, really uncomfortable with the idea of having J’onn in his head, so J’onn tries to keep telecommunication with him to a minimum. So when Bruce gets his attention during like a meeting or something and subtly lets him know he needs to talk, J’onn knows it must be important. So he opens up a private channel and helps Bruce deal with whatever it is (I don’t know exactly what that would be, only that it’d be some kind of sensitive topic best kept between the two of them). And over the course of that, all those one-on-one mind convos, Bruce starts to get used to talking like that with J’onn. In return, while they’re working together, he helps J’onn get used to human physical contact. It starts with small things- handshakes, little pats on the shoulder- until J’onn is comfortable returning them. One day J’onn has a bad day and it’s Bruce that comes to find him, to comfort him. He doesn’t really say anything, just puts his arms around J’onn and holds him close. Most humans- and hell, even most Martians- wouldn’t have done that for him. What else was J’onn supposed to do but fall in love with him?

I really liked the scene in JL8 where J’onn was trying to, like, share a memory with Bruce or something, and instead he ended up unintentionally stumbling into some of Bruce’s trauma memories, which freaked both of them out pretty badly. I think that little scene would fit quite nicely into this scenario. Bonus, if it happens in the really early days of the League, it doubles as the moment when J’onn first learns Bruce’s secret identity.

Flash: It’s been a longtime headcanon of mine that Barry is very active in the Central City community, not just as Flash, but as himself, too. Namely, he spends a good deal of his free time volunteering with the local homeless shelter slash food bank. I mean, come on, just by the very nature of his powers, is it any surprise that he has a vested interest in ending hunger in his community? One day he stops Bruce in the hall in the Watchtower, and clumsily explains that he needs to ask a favor. The shelter has been looking to expand their operations for some time, but right at the last second one of their backers pulled out. They’re short 7k for the payment on the property they needed to make tomorrow, and Barry didn’t know where else to turn to get that much money that quickly. He promises to pay him back, somehow, eventually. Bruce cuts him a check right there for 10k, and tells him to consider it a gift. Later he even publicly endorses the program on social media, saying he thinks Gotham should implement something similar. Barry invites him down to see the building he paid for, so Bruce rolls up his sleeves and spends the day volunteering with him. It’s a chance for both of them to see a side of the other that they’ve never seen before. Bruce watches Barry shine like a ray of sunshine, bringing light and laughter to a room full of people at their very lowest. Barry watches Bruce inspire trust and confidence in complete strangers, like magic. Not to mention, that smile- Barry tries not to use his powers out in the open if he can avoid it, but he discreetly flashes over to stop a tray or something from falling, and of course it doesn’t escape Bruce’s notice. He grins at Barry from across the room and Barry’s heart fully stops for a second.

I like to think of Bruce as a little older than Barry. Just a little, just a few years. Just enough that Barry always feels like an inexperienced, incompetent baby in the face of The Batman

This one throws the kids for such a loop once they find out about it. “THIS is what you’re attracted to, Bruce? THIS???”

Green Lantern: what I know about Hal is that he’s sassy. And what I know about Bruce is that if anyone he doesn’t have the ability to tell to go to their room is sassy with him, he gets snippy. So he and Hal butt heads a lot. One day Hal is venting to Superman in like, an elevator or something about how Bruce just Doesn’t Get It, Clark, He Doesn’t Understand Me, and Clark says, “well, Hal, can you honestly say that you understand him, either?” And suggests that maybe he should spend some more time actually getting to know Bruce before passing judgement. Hal takes that to mean ‘maybe I should go to Gotham and spy on Batman for a day’. When he spots him doing his best to hide inconspicuously on a nearby rooftop, Bruce rolls his eyes and ignores him. Dick spots him too, though, and invites him to the cave in hopes that maybe they’ll be able to settle whatever their argument was about (Jason, Tim, and Steph break out the popcorn and get themselves front row seats for the Drama). But in the end, an up-close perspective was exactly what Hal needed to realize that there was more to Batman than had been meeting his eye. He watches Bruce juggle ten different comm feeds while giving a press conference AND directing his kids’ efforts in the field at the same time, and he earns a new respect for Bruce. He gets where he’s coming from now, and why he’s always so cautious all the time. The guy has a lot to lose. So he mans up and apologizes. Bruce accepts the apology graciously, says he realizes that they’re fundamentally different people but that he values Hal as a comrade and respects his prowess with the ring, and Hal is like, ‘ah. We Are Friends Now.’ He spends more of his time on Earth with Bruce, and along the way he trips and falls headlong into a debilitating crush on him. Like, a visibly obvious crush. Bruce finds it adorable.

Green Arrow: Bruce and Ollie get invited to the same billionaire shindig one day and neither of them can think of a good enough reason to not go. Ollie’s recovering from a bad ankle sprain, and Bruce hasn’t slept in days, so instead of socializing with anyone else there they just sit in the corner and hang out with each other. Midway through the event Bruce closes his eyes and does this forceful little sigh through his nose. Ollie knows him well enough by now to know that small outward signs indicate big amounts of internal emotions with Bruce, and this is about as frustrated as he’s ever seen him out of mask. Normally his act is impenetrable. “What,” he asks, imagination running full speed ahead thinking about what might have happened, “what’s wrong?” “Firefly just broke out of prison,” Bruce growls, reaching for a refill of whatever he’s drinking. “Wh- Wait, who?” “Pyromaniac, serial arsonist in Gotham.” “How exactly did you learn this?” (read: do you have some kind of spider sense I don’t know about?) Bruce just gestures to his microscopic earpiece. Ollie offers, probably against his better judgement, to take a trip to Gotham and help catch Firefly. Bruce, barely able to see straight at that point (bad combination of sleeplessness and alcohol), accepts. So Ollie gets the full treatment, a trip to the cave and tea from Alfred and a haranguing from the kids and a trip to Blackgate with Firefly, even. In return he offers to have Bruce over in Star City sometime. Ollie is usually a little on edge around Bruce, but then he starts to see the real him and finds out that he does, in fact have a sense of humor. They have goofy adventures together and it’s all very cute

Aquaman: Arthur is hotheaded and when he gets in a Mood, the sight of Bruce and his stupid unmovable face just makes him angrier. But once during a mission, when Arthur is busy working himself into a panic, not knowing what to do, it’s Bruce that snaps him out of it. Grabs him by the shoulders and demands that he get a hold of himself. And it’s enough of a shock that it actually works- Bruce tells Arthur the plan, and Arthur does it without argument. No one is more surprised when it works than he is. He is SHOOK. Eventually he swallows his pride enough to go up to Batman and admit, “I think I’m still too emotionally invested in this, can you help me?” Bruce agrees, of course. He does his best to explain how he always keeps his emotions in check, especially when lives are on the line. It occurs to Arthur to wonder what kind of toll that takes on a person. He decides that Bruce could probably use a little vacation of sorts, and invites him to spend a day with him in Atlantis. A day in the life of a king, if you will. Bruce rolls his eyes and agrees, just to play along, but he ends up really enjoying it. Yes, there are a dozen-odd irons in the fire waiting for him when he gets home, but this time he finds that he actually has the energy to deal with them for once. Which is a good enough excuse to go back and do it again, and spend more time with Arthur in the process.

Dami is usually super resistant to Bruce dating anyone, but he would be ok with Arthur, I think. Like, “you bagged a king? Ok, respect”

Extra notes:

I feel like a lot of my thoughts about Clayface and Martian Manhunter specifically could also apply to Killer Croc, too, in a way. I mean, he’s not EVIL. He’s just never really been treated like a person, and so he embraced his image as Killer Croc instead of continuing to face that rejection. But if anyone can look past his exterior and see the needs of the man within, Bruce could. Feels a little weird to think about but maybe there’s something there.

Polyshipping is GREAT may I interest you in some ot3s??? SuperWonderBat is one of the more obvious ones, and I love it (cause Diana gets to play with TWO flustered boys) but BatLanternFlash is also top tier. And then there’s the villains! RiddleBatCat is one of my favorites! Also TwoRiddleBat and BruHarlIvy. The possibilities are endless!

I considered adding Lex and Slade to this post, but in the end I left them off. Cause it’s hard for me to see those as anything but weird, inherently unhealthy relationships. They’d make great black ships though : o

When talking about Bruce dating someone else from the JL, there’s DOUBLE the kids to embarrass. Can you imagine you’re like, Roy Harper or something, somebody’s sidekick, and you walk in and find BATMAN in bed with your mentor???? WILD

This post really got away from me, haha. Thanks for reading! Hit me up if you ever need someone to talk about Batshipping with (especially rarepairs, I got you fam)!

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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

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LIZ HAS THE FLIMJABS

December 30, 1950

“Liz Has the Flimjabs” (aka “A Severe Case of Flimjabs”) is episode #112 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on December 30, 1950.

This was the 14th episode of the third season of MY FAVORITE HUSBAND. There were 31 new episodes, with the season ending on March 31, 1951.

Synopsis ~ Liz wants a mink coat from George, so she pretends to be sick in order to get his sympathy - and the coat! George is on to her tactics, and decides to give her the scare of her life - literally!

Note: This program served as the basis for the “I Love Lucy” episode “Lucy Fakes Illness” (ILL S1;E16) filmed on December 18, 1951 and first aired on January 28, 1952. The role of the Doctor was taken by Hal March, who was actually playing an actor friend of Ricky’s named Hal March pretending to be a doctor. On television, Lucy also adopts a psychological illness in addition to her physical ailments. There was no mention of Christmas or New Years on the television show.

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benaderet was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

MAIN CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.” From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury) was considered the front-runner to be cast as Ethel Mertz but when “I Love Lucy” was ready to start production she was already playing a similar role on TV’s “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” so Vivian Vance was cast instead. On “I Love Lucy” she was cast as Lucy Ricardo’s spinster neighbor, Miss Lewis, in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) in early 1952. Later, she was a success in her own show, “Petticoat Junction” as Shady Rest Hotel proprietress Kate Bradley. She starred in the series until her death in 1968.

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz, a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) does not appear in this episode.

GUEST CAST

Frank Nelson (Dr. Stevenson) was born on May 6, 1911 (three months before Lucille Ball) in Colorado Springs, Colorado. He started working as a radio announcer at the age of 15. He later appeared on such popular radio shows as “The Great Gildersleeve,” “Burns and Allen,” and “Fibber McGee & Molly”. Aside from Lucille Ball, Nelson is perhaps most associated with Jack Benny and was a fifteen-year regular on his radio and television programs. His trademark was playing clerks and other working stiffs, suddenly turning to Benny with a drawn out “Yeeeeeeeeees?” Nelson appeared in 11 episodes of “I Love Lucy”, including three as quiz master Freddy Fillmore, and two as Ralph Ramsey, plus appearance on “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” - making him the only actor to play two different recurring roles on “I Love Lucy.” Nelson returned to the role of the frazzled Train Conductor for an episode of “The Lucy Show” in 1963. This marks his final appearance on a Lucille Ball sitcom.

The doctor’s surname may be a reference to noted costume designer Edward Stevenson, who designed gowns for Lucille Ball in more than a dozen RKO films and would eventually become costume designer of “I Love Lucy” after the departure of Elois Jenssen in 1955.

EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “And now, let’s look in on the Coopers. It’s evening, and Liz and George are sitting in the living room admiring their Christmas tree."

George wonders if it is time to take the Christmas tree down but Liz doesn’t want to. They agree to put away their presents instead and start to talk about the gifts they didn’t give or get.

Liz nearly bought George a set of matching golf clubs. George says he nearly bought her a mink jacket. He says he saw it in the window at Millers, but realized he couldn’t afford it. Liz sadly reminds him that she has never had a fur coat and wonders if they could afford it if they all their Christmas gifts to the store. George says it still wouldn’t be enough, but Liz wants to wear something special to the Atterbury’s New Year’s Eve party.

Next morning, in the kitchen, Katie the Maid asks Liz why she is so sad. Liz tells her about her mink jacket dreams. Liz solicits Katie’s opinion on how she can’t best get George to get her a mink jacket in time for the party. Liz decides to play sick since George always gets her what she wants when she’s ill.

After dinner, Liz and George contemplate what to do. Liz suggests going to the movies to see Harvey starring Jimmy Stewart, which is playing at the Strand.

Harvey is a comedy about a man whose best friend is a six-foot tall imaginary rabbit. It premiered just ten days earlier before this broadcast and starred James Stewart. The film won an Oscar for Josephine Hull. The screenplay was based on the 1944 Broadway play of the same name by Mary Chase which won the 1945 Pulitzer Prize for Drama.

Before Liz can tell George the second feature, she starts to writhe in pain! Amid moans and groans, Liz details the pain for George. She says she used to have these attacks as a child. When she says the only thing that sometimes helps is little gifts to make her happy, George gets suspicious. He quickly leaves the room to make a phone call, which Liz thinks is to buy her a mink jacket, but he has actually called the doctor!

End of Part One

Bob LeMond presents a live Jell-O commercial, giving a basic recipe for preparation of all delicious six flavors!

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers once again, Liz is pretending to be sick and George, who is worried about her, has called the doctor.”

The doorbell rings and George admits Dr. Stevenson (Frank Nelson). Before seeing Liz, George tips him off that Liz may have a rare disease and that the only cure is a mink coat! George asks him to give her a good scare and the Doctor agrees to play along.

Entering the bedroom, Liz immediately tells the Doctor she feels much better. But after a quick exam, the Doctor diagnoses Liz with a rare tropical disease from the West Indies called the ‘Flimjabs’. The only cure is to operate and remove her ‘torkle’ but warns her that she will never be able to ‘yammle’ again. The Doctor explains that ‘yammling’ is an involuntary peristalsis of the transverse clavis.

GEORGE: “Doctor, do you have to remove the whole torkle?” DOCTOR: “Maybe we’ll be lucky and can save half of it. After all, half a torkle is better than none.” LIZ: “Well, I should say so! I’d hate to think of never yammeling again!”

The Doctor says that they must now wait 24 hours and see if she turns green.

DOCTOR: “If you turn green, three hours later (snaps his fingers) gone.” LIZ: (snaps) “Gone?” DOCTOR: (snaps) “Gone.”

For the television script, the ‘Flimjabs’ was renamed the 'Gobloots’ - a rare tropical disease that carried into America on the hind legs of the 'boo-shoo bird.’ It can necessitate a person having to undergo a 'zorchectomy’ – total or partial removal of the 'zorch’. Even if doctors are able to save half a person’s 'zorch,’ the patient will never be able to 'trummle’ again. 'Trummling’ is a mysterious involuntary internal process. Finally, if you turn green while suffering from the 'gobloots’ you will be dead in 30 minutes!

Iris Atterbury drops by to see Liz on her way to the Bridge Club meeting. Liz tells her that she has been diagnosed with the Flimjabs.

IRIS: “Oh, how exciting! This will make Betty Ricky’s gallstones look sick! She’ll be absolutely green.” LIZ: “She's not the only one. That’s one of the danger signs. I may turn green.” IRIS: “With a green face and red hair, you’ll be out of this world.” LIZ: “Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Iris is overcome with emotion at the thought of losing Liz. She doesn’t want to leave, but the ice cream for the Bridge Club meeting is in the car and it’s melting!

That night, Doctor Stevenson returns to check on Liz. Answering the door, George confesses that he’s put a green light bulb in Liz’s bedroom light. As soon as George turns on the lights, Liz shrieks seeing her green hands! Her face and hair have turned green, too! Liz thinks the men have Flimjabs too, because they are also green, but then the truth sets in.

LIZ: “Oh, no! This is the end! I’m looking at the world through green colored eyeballs!”

Liz dramatically declares that she’s dying. George accuses her of being over-dramatic.

LIZ: “I’m sorry, George. But I don’t die every day and it’s new to me.”

Before her imminent demise, Liz confesses to all the car accidents she’s had and hidden by having the car fixed without telling him.

LIZ: “In fact, the only thing left of the original car you bought is the ashtray in the back seat!”

Then Liz bravely confesses to pretending to be sick to get him to buy her a mink coat. George also needs to make a confession: it was all a trick. There is no such thing as ‘Flimjabs’ and the light is from a green light bulb!

The phone rings and it is Iris, tearfully calling from the Bridge Club meeting. The girls have just had a memorial ceremony for Liz by turning her chair to the wall and smashing her teacup in the fireplace. Before Liz can tell Iris that it was a joke, she learns that they all chipped in and bought her a goodbye present: a mink coat! Liz hangs up in tears. George is confused.

GEORGE: “Isn’t that what you wanted?” LIZ: “Yeah, but I have to die to get it!”

END OF EPISODE

In the live Jell-O commercial, Lucille Ball and Bob LeMond play a couple of nomads lost in the desert. Lucy uses her ‘Isabella Clump’ voice as ‘Smith’. Bob is looking for his camp, near a big dune.

LUCY / ‘SMITH’: “A dune? What’s a dune?” BOB: “What’s a dune????” LUCY / ‘SMITH’: “I dunno. What’s a-dune with you?”

Smith sees a mirage - a big bowl of Jell-O! After describing the six delicious flavors, Bob suggests they go home.

BOB: “Go home? We’re lost in the desert!” LUCY / ‘SMITH’: “Why don’t we each take one of those cars.” BOB: “What cars?” LUCY / ‘SMITH’: “The ones over there. That’s a two-car mirage!”

The same date this episode was broadcast, columnist Sid Shalit in the New York Daily News reported that a television situation comedy was being prepared starring Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz in the mold of “My Favorite Husband”. Clearly, the radio series was winding down. This was the final episode of 1950 with only 16 episodes left.

Meanwhile, in addition to radio and television, Ball was on the nation’s movie screens in two 1950 films: The Fuller Brush Girl and Fancy Pants.

#My Favorite Husband #Liz has the Flimjabs #I Love Lucy #Lucy Fakes Illness #Lucille Ball #Richard Denning #Bea Benadaret #Ruth Perrott #Bob Lemond #Radio #CBS #Jello #1950 #Harvey #Jimmy Stewart #Frank Nelson #Fuller Brush Girl #Fancy Pants

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