#i'm belatedly realizing it may be asking a lot
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18/?? Alexa, play Despacito
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And now, we return to Prometheus, which is trying to redeem the last two fifths of itself through blood sacrifice. Content warning for discussion of eyeball nastiness and death by immolation, Holloway.
Taking things slightly out of chronology this time, because there’s an excellent, quiet scene sandwiched in between lots of screaming: I'm sure they meant to put it in juxtaposition with this to heighten the emotion, but I refuse. We'll save that one for later. As a treat for me. And now, as a treat for me, Holloway is dying! Hurray!
So, turns out we’re spinning the wheel of Inconsistent, Ominous Black Goo effects again, and landed on “hangovers aren’t supposed to make your eyes grow tentacles”.
Holloway, apparently in denial, does not recall this fact until he’s gone out with what could generously be called a rescue party, to try and locate Millburn and Fifield. Janek belatedly and unwisely goes along to help, while David appears to go on a pleasant Sunday drive in his golf cart. He’s heading to a better scene, the lucky scamp.
Millburn is very dead–a rubber snake jumps out of his mouth, so you know he’s toast. Fifield’s body is nowhere to be found, and it will make an underwhelming return later.
Holloway collapses, covered in creeping black veins. Shaw finds this distressing. I would be fascinated to know if anybody in the audience agreed with her. I usually would, if only because certain kinds of screaming can kick me into sensory overload, but apparently there’s a psychological component to that response. And so I placidly watched Vickers meet them at the Prometheus vehicle bay with a flamethrower.
I appreciate her belated interest in quarantine and sanitation, but frankly, it’s a little late for that. I already had my rant on that earlier. At this point, things have gotten so bad that even Holloway realizes that the only solution is to go 40k on his ass.
youtube
[Video description: A 40k meme clipped from TheRussianBadger’s review of the game Space Hulk: Deathwing: A player says “BROTHER. GET THE FLAMER. THE HEAVY. FLAMER.” Sudden cut to almost incomprehensibly fiery gameplay, with a dramatic choral soundtrack and in-game voice lines “WE ARE THE ANGELS OF DEATH!” “MY FURY IS MADE MANIFEST!”, and ends right before a player yells “I WOULD LIKE TO REGISTER A COMPLAINT” and spins wildly around, spraying flames everywhere.]
Yes, Holloway burns to a crisp! I don’t know what the movie wants me to feel here, but whatever it is, I did not feel it. Did it want me to feel sad about this, because Shaw doesn’t want this to happen? Does it intend to raise the tension by having things spiral further out of control, demonstrating that a drop of the Ominous Black Goo is enough to kill a man in under a day? Am I supposed to take sick satisfaction in watching him die? All these are possible in bog standard horror movies.
However, this is a movie that wants to speak to something thematically. Holloway is positioned as a character we are not necessarily supposed to find sympathetic. As previously mentioned, the Engineers did not invite humanity to this planet. They were warning humans that if they continued to stray in their behavior, they would be killed by something that would come from here.
Perhaps we are thus supposed to be asking questions about this: why would the Engineers do this? Why create humanity and then threaten to destroy their creations? What was their justification? David has turned this weapon on Holloway, making the choice that at least one man deserves the fate the Engineers planned for all humanity. Does he deserve that? Does anyone?
I was not thinking any of those things in the theater. Because what I actually felt was a desire to return to the scene interwoven with this one, which we will get to next time. This is the danger of creating an unlikeable, expendable character: the audience may feel no pathos when they die, nor question the death’s necessity. If they’re not along for the ride, then they may simply shrug.
Particularly when the rest of the movie is such a mess. This is only their second day on the planet, does anyone else remember that? I mean, I’ve been here for what feels like eternity, but they behaved so stupid, so fast, that this feels less like the inevitable falling apart of dozens of smaller mistakes, and more like one gigantic katamari of mistakes that will not stop rolling until it has collected every mistake in the world, and is thus deemed worthy of becoming a star all on its own, to forever shine out how badly they fucked it all up.
Next time: one of the two good scenes people tend to remember.
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Citations for alt-text rambles:
https://www.swtor.com/
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCSpFnDQr88xCZ80N-X7t0nQ
https://youtu.be/vy5fgDvb9-c HYEEh-HAA!
Overflow Ramble, because tumblr lets you put in more alt-text than it will actually display in-browser:
A wide shot of Holloway with his arms outstretched, walking toward the vehicle bay ramp. Is this pose supposed to be a crucifixion allusion? I hope not! That would be baffling. Though as these posts have proven, something being baffling doesn’t rule out Prometheus doing it. Shaw is on the ground behind them, restrained by Janek.
I’m trying to figure out if this was done on a studio stage, or on location. You’d think the latter wouldn’t be possible, but I’ve seen behind the scenes shots of them filming in the volcanic desert of Iceland, they definitely were in places that looked similar. But the background may still be fake after a certain point–outdoor green screens are a thing.
The lighting on Janek and Shaw doesn’t quite feel right. Part of it’s the shadows: they’re darker on the people than in the background, which is a common problem for CG elements.The visual fidelity of the gravel behind them kind of has a sudden shift about halfway up Shaw’s head, and I’m not sure if that’s just focus or what.
If it is a composite of real and CG, it makes sense that it looks a bit off, though: these are background elements that are not supposed to be your main focus, on a shot that’s not held for too long. There’s always been trade-offs like that in visual effects, they’ve just shifted over the years. Anyway, back to Charlize Theron with a flamethrower.
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#Prometheus 2012#Prometheus (2012)#less serious analysis in this one because the movie failed to justify it#one could say that it generally does throughout its entire runtime#but that will not stop me#I have to get ALL these thoughts out of my system#and leave them as a monument to my obsession and a movie that could have been better#Youtube
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It's going to be a while before I start posting the sexy stuff from this gunter x fcorrin slowburn fic, so have a little treat. :) a short scene after their first kiss and light fooling around, but before their first time. unedited.
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"A word, if you would, Princess."
She was so attuned to his quiet rasp that she heard him across the general chatter of the base camp, her heart sending a fairly vigorous leap of unbearable fondness.
He was standing perfectly at attention against the outside wall of the base, both gauntlets interlocked behind him in that steady position -
Suddenly remembering the last position they had been in, her cheeks flamed against her will. He coughed discretely.
"About that, milady."
Corrin almost spluttered at how neatly he read her mind.
"About what, sir?"
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow scathingly down at her, shifting slightly in place to cross his arms.
Really? His immaculate, ramrod posture seemed to say.
Still, he stayed silent. After three heartbeats he exhaled roughly, exactly like a skittish war-horse, and it hit her.
He was nervous -- her old knight, her beloved guardian who had stared down enemy generals and ancient wonders of beasts and the fathomless chaos of battles - was as nervous as a schoolboy on approaching topics such as feelings, and god forbid, desire.
"Don't ... please don't make me spell it out, milady. Our flagrant scene in that tent."
"Did you enjoy it, sir?"
She was rewarded to see a flush of splotchy heat along his neck as he quickly prayed skywards with a silent plea at her shamelessness. He looked positively ready to flee the space.
Was about to, before she grabbed his arm.
"Gunter, I'm ... not asking to embarrass you," She belatedly realized now was not the time to tease him. "I liked it. Rather a lot, actually, and i am enormously fond of you, and i want you to keep doing more of the same with me."
"That is ... exactly the issue, milady." The acid prickliness of his words could rival a phalanx of spear-men, and she let go apologetically.
He clearly recognized the stubborn look on her face and quickly cut in before she responded, looking almost pained.
"Corrin, please, let me finish. It would be so much easier if I did not ... want this."
His was a strangled whisper, and she wanted so very badly to give him the comfort he needed. Even brushing her fingertips against his gauntleted arm in encouragement would be too much.
"There are passionless marriages among your kind, milady - among nobility it is rather the norm, even. Some loveless, some not."
He paused.
"I am ... not capable of such unions. Not with you."
His hard eyes flicked up and stayed with hers. Her breath hitched - there, there was the naked, primal desire she remembered from the tent.
His eyes trailed down - undressing her pointedly, lazily, wandering down her breasts and curves now in bold, perverted disregard of all of his previous words.
"There are many acts I want very much to do with you." His voice grew husky, "A great many, deeply enjoyable, filthy acts that I have been imagining, and indulging in for far, far too long."
She shivered, and it was not from the wind.
He swallowed hard in turn, and faced away to break his gaze, closing his eyes. Gunter's back was ramrod straight, and it was several moments later before she heard a second deep exhale as he centered himself again.
"Princess." He was pacing agitatedly now in a semicircle, scanning the surroundings like the observer he always was. Clearly old habits were hard to break, and he always defaulted to his role as a protector. "I-if I may ask a ... favor, before ..."
"Before we proceed?"
His jaw twitched at her impertinence, exasperated, but let it slide.
"One night. Take tonight and ... think, reflect, as I've taught. Consider honestly what you are willing to give and loose. Don't be a fool and rush into this, milady."
Gunter was closer now, as he gave one last look over his shoulder. Much closer. It wasn't until his shadow was practically on top of hers that his armored gauntlets roughly gripped her shoulders like a vice and with deeply masculine firmness, dipping in.
"I care for you too god damned much to let you make a mistake on my behalf." He murmured roughly, breath hot and deep with a rumble by the shell of her ear.
She felt his stubble and broken nose sear a trail by her jawline a second before his scarred lips as he dipped in hungrily for a stolen kiss, devastatingly potent. She tasted his desire tasting hers, nipping at her own soft lips, a raw echo of what he had been imagining, just before -
"Sir..."
And as always it was over too soon, but as Corrin gasped in pleasure, she was rewarded by a renewed twinkle in his eyes, and a lazy smirk playing over that handsome and surprisingly tender mouth.
She was more than a little breathless and dizzy. But she did not miss how his hooded eyes lingered on her lips for a second too long before striding away, or how she was not the only one who was breathing hard.
She savored the taste of his scent the whole way back to her rooms.
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All your WIPs sound so interesting, how am I supposed to ask about just one!?
Ok, how about ToOutliveNineRavensToRaiseJustOne?
I'm so excited for any and all of your fics!
You could.... always ask about more hahaha
Thank you for the ask, I like sharing! This one is my favorite, because its an actual monster that I have been working on for a year and a half now. It's the first in the official trilogy (which was originally just a single fic, which may soon grow more heads) of my Canon Divergence AU. It's sitting at a terrifying 30k, and should grow to about 50k by completion, making it the smallest of the three planned stories. The title (to outlive nine ravens; to raise just one) is a reference to a portion of the Precepts of Chiron
A chattering crow lives out nine generations of aged men,
but a stag's life is four time a crow's,
and a raven's life makes three stags old,
while the phoenix outlives nine ravens...
So maybe that gives you a hint about whose POV its in. Now, onward to the excerpt! (forgive the grammar/pacing/etc, this is unedited)
He did not bother to signal this time. Bantes was still pulling himself to his feet as Cor moved to cross the bridge. Barely visible on the other side was the target.
Basic concrete brutalism, windowless save for some ventilators a good three meters up and what looked like loading docks slapped on to the side; the target was underwhelming to the extreme. Harmless. Boring. The entire building screamed ‘back entrance to a strip-mall.’
Which, given the dossier, was exactly what they had been looking for.
For reasons unknown even to Regis’ mysterious informant, Niflheim’s Imperial Research Minister was using a gutted commercial building as the staging ground for his most temperamental research. Half-a-dozen heavily guarded ‘facilities’ and counting had cropped up in the territory they had lost in this fucking war, all of which Cor knew to be armed to the teeth and nearly impenetrable, and somehow Cor was supposed to believe that Besithia did his most crucial work here? In an under-guarded outpost more than a half-day’s travel from Gralea?
Yeah, he wasn't fucking buying it.
This was a trap. He had told Regis as much when he had brought up this nonsense in the first place, but Cor’s concerns had been over-ruled. Whoever his informant was, Regis had assured Cor that their word was worth more than the whole treasury.
Possibly worth more than the Crystal, if what they found could truly end the war.
Cor relented at that. Regis, more than anyone, knew the weight and worth of the Crystal. Knew the price of it.
Cor just hoped he was right.
“Roost,” Cor called into the transmitter as they approached their entrance. “In position. Over.”
Their way into the building was an employee backdoor, single wide and painted a long-faded red. Mounted to the wall next to it was a card reader, blinking faintly and covered in a thin dusting of snow. It was eerily familiar.
“Not getting a lot of motion on this end,” Sedes’ voice was almost pure static in his ear. “Nothing from Canary, as expected, but I would still proceed with caution. Out.”
It almost felt like a mirage. Some vague hallucination of Insomnia in the winter, of times long behind him. Cor swore he could taste the ghost of menthol as he inhaled. The glowing butt of a cigarette in the garbage-can ash tray that sat half-buried next to the stoop disappeared between blinks, replaced with nothing but snow.
“Pheonix?” Bantes was closer behind him than Cor had realized.
“Wilco,” Cor said belatedly into the receiver.
Cor took the last two steps up to the door with more speed than strictly necessary, trying not to think about how wrong it felt to walk right up to a Nif base without seeing a single MT. Trying not to think about the smell of cigarettes or anything beyond the task at hand. He fished the key card from where it hung around his neck with numb fingers, leaning forward to press it to the pad without having to remove it from the lanyard.
The mechanical lock of the door audibly clicked, the sound nearly swallowed by the snow. Cor shoved the door open with his foot, gun summoned and positioned in front of him in the same breath, and stepped forward.
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I belatedly realized that reblogging the ask reply may not have been the best option. But ah well, here I am again, hi!
So. I really love the Cut & Run series I mean I run a discord server, I think that says a lot.
I'm currently re-reading the series (+ side trilogy) to get back to my WIPs there, and lemme tell you, I have a TyZane/Buddie agenda, so I'm more than willing to be a sounding board 👀😂
I didn't read the side trilogy but I do here it's a good one. Also I'm a little invested in Nick and Kelly so I might pick it up.
My thing with TyZane-Buddie parallels was just the whole...Special Agent business? Partners in and off the job, Zane (from Texas, also a widower) keeping Ty grounded in more ways than one, etc etc. Ty making Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass more easygoing, then a whole secret-not-secret relationship.
It's a bit like lethal grumpy/sunshine.
Though I have to say there's a lot of things about Ty that don't really match up to Buck, obviously. The Marine thing for sure, but also the fact that Ty comes from a really damn supportive family xD And he has a place to call home that isn't Baltimore, y'know?
TyZane are more about the vibes and the possibility of calling Eddie Special Agent Eddie Diaz so xD
If you like this series, try out the Zero Hour series by Aimee Nicole Walker - they're Buddie in detective font xD
#zee answers#i mean it's been a lot of books since then so im a lil fuzzy on the details#but yeah that's what my thing was.
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For the yet another writing ask meme: 10, 15, and 33
10. Top three favourite fic tropes.
Answered here!
15. What’s your favourite plotless fic you have written?
Okay, narrowing "plotless" down to mean "just fluff" because I'm not really sure what else it might be supposed to mean, I have a lot and it was very hard to pick, but probably a toss-up between the breakfast-in-bed fic with Yelka and Bryn (which I went through her whole tag, couldn't find, and belatedly realized was too Explicit for me to have posted, hahaha, but you may recall) and the old New Year's fic for the nature trio. And that was with a lot of angsting over the narrowing-down, mind. XD (It did actually help that I put plot in a lot of my fluff, it ruled out other favorites for me!)
33. Give your writing a compliment.
I am very pleased with my own descriptions! And my action scenes!
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On this day, last year...
Oct. 7, 2022
I meant to speak a bit more about my therapy this week; I had hoped it would provide more insight, but this time was a bit strange. EMDR is strange to begin with, harrowing and emotionally exhausting. Honestly I had hoped to find out more about my triggers, and what the roots of them are, so that I can at least ameliorate their symptoms. This time, we started off with my target image, but this time focused on the nightmares that emerge from it.
Part of the reason I have nightmares isn't because I'm scared of X, but because I am rather very angry with him. My throat is tight with rage, and nothing seems to quell it. And I realized, over the course of this session, that it was because I had no agency in my marriage. Worse still, X preferred to keep it that way; so much so that he manifested what I thought was a mark of ownership on my cheekbone.
I'm no stranger to such marks. Deities and entities galore have placed their markers on me to denote devotion, or to possess me in some fashion. Even some of my most favored individuals have done so. I can't say I blame them, per se, but it's time for me to recover those pieces of myself.
X never wanted that for me. So, instead of a mark, he placed a sort of funnel on me that would siphon off whatever he wanted or needed at the time. A singularity on my right cheekbone... perhaps more elsewhere. And, during crucial moments, he would use that singularity to alter the potency of my willpower. On any particular day, perhaps I would be too tired to resist, or be so confused or anxious that I lacked the capacity to make a decision, or perhaps I would just suddenly come down with a throbbing headache.
Using the power of these funnel-like spots, he forcibly removed approximately HALF of my agency, almost like a metaphysical lobotomy. And so, as I poured more and more effort into filling those empty spaces, I became more frustrated, more tired, more dependent... even more of a puppet. It was.. diabolically perfect.
But how does one get rid of something that very closely resembles a black hole? In physics, there's no clear answer to this. When a star collapses into a black hole, essentially its gravity takes over, infinitely compacting any matter and reducing light output to nil. How was I to come back from this?
I realize, somewhat belatedly, that I spend an awful lot of time asking "how" to do things when I'm HOPE. I can literally just DO ANYTHING. Why should I even bother asking "how?"
To put it in fairly simple terms, I just... reversed the polarity of the spell. Instead of drawing my energy and my agency away from me, it reversed course, spilling all my missing pieces back into me. It's quite a lot to process, and I had a good bit of help from the guides. One, an old man who called himself Basil, sat with me and patted my hand as I went through the emotional process of putting myself back together.
I'm going to have to defragment my brain again... perhaps this weekend will allow me the opportunity. I wonder if I should commune with Mother again, but this may not be the best time... when my mind is still scattered in pieces everywhere, I mean. I might not be able to process such a large quantity of information.
Oct. 7, 2023
I recall it was only recently that I lashed out at Fortitude for insisting X couldn't do anything to me. He can, and does, and I was tired of feeling invalidated, so I raised my voice at Fortitude for trying to verbally minimize X's presence.
It's one of many things I regret. Granted, what I said was not untrue, but getting upset like that seems to push him more and more into silence, when that's not at all what I want. From time to time, Fortitude will shut down and say he feels like he can't talk about anything with me because he has no idea what kinds of things will trigger me.
For the most part, my answer to this has been the same. "My triggers are not your responsibility. I would rather you trigger me, so that I know where I most need change in my life, than shut down and be silent in our partnership." Being triggered is awful, and it's hard, but it's those points when I learn what I need most, and that's incredibly important to me, as an agent of change.
I don't want or need him to solve my problems for me. Sometimes I just need someone to listen. I can pull myself out of my own mire; I just need a cheerleader on occasion. I hope he understands, but this has been something that has happened a number of times.
I don't ever want to have a stagnant relationship where we are "just okay" with each other. I want us to grow and fight and thrive together. And that means showing each other where our weak points are; doing the hard work of protecting and challenging each other.
I am glad that he is kind and cognizant of my triggers, and doesn't want to hurt me any more than he has to. But I can't go through my life avoiding the things that hurt anymore. And I frankly get upset at the way he dodges or hesitates before difficult issues, because it reminds me of X and how he practiced his relationships.
Wow, that was a sudden realization, just now... X spent so much time manipulating his way around and out of responsibility for my needs that all I want is someone who is willing to be honest. And I mean the kind of honesty that is heavy and full of love and kindness. That takes fortitude... and I wonder if it's something he's not ready for.
My tears mean so much to him, and this feels like something I've gone through, myself. I didn't want to make the people I love unhappy. I realize now that that's not something I can prevent or delay. There will be times that I can say the truth out of love, though. That's what I really want.
I want to do better, be better. And that means facing all the things that hurt me. It means taking responsibility for my own traumas and convincing others that I don't expect them to carry these heavy things for me. I just... want someone to hold my hand.
That's kind of where I am with Phobetor now; gently, lovingly making him aware of my boundaries and his own shortcomings. He's been hanging around lately, and I don't much mind. His presence doesn't frighten me anymore.
He's asked me many times now what I see when I look upon him. My answer is always the same, but I think he asks because he's not altogether sure I'm honest; that perhaps at some point my answer will change. And he's so convinced that I'm going to hurt him for the role he's played all these millennia that even his gestures toward me are stuttering, frightened.
He would likely find that insulting if I pointed it out.
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NO MATCHES FOUND || mitch & cambie
@cambieandrews
For better or for worse, Mitch Douglas was someone who could only be described as desperately nostalgic. Unfortunately for him, in a post-apocalyptic society where everything about life could and often did change with a relentless and unforgiving regularity, this frequently trended towards the “for worse.” It made it exceedingly difficult to exist as a person mired too thoroughly in their past. Mitch imagined himself relatively adaptable for his age and the circumstances, but this was one true hangup he had some difficulty getting past.
Not long after Echo and its database had been implemented, Mitch developed a relationship with searching it that could only be described as… moderately unhealthy. Borderline obsessive, even. A lot of the time it’d taken the shape of searching the names of his former students, and survivors popped up just frequently enough that he was able to breathe a sigh of relief and reassure himself that this searching wasn’t as unhealthy as it could be. A plausible case couldn’t, however, be made that searching for his ex-wife was any kind of healthy. It was an endeavor largely motivated by guilt, and a misplaced guilt at that. Even if Mitch could admit that to himself -- which he did, eventually -- he still couldn’t quite help it. On a more anxious day he would check every free moment he had, and almost never went more than eight hours without.
As the years wore on and the rate at which new names entered the list slowed to a trickle, though, Mitch began to look for her less frequently. A weekly check turned biweekly, biweekly turned monthly, and every now and then he’d even manage to forget for a month. The impending holiday, of course, made forgetting difficult. Made forgetting a lot of things difficult.
After a late dinner his footsteps had carried him to his office instead of straight back to Calyset and his suite, having remembered that he’d left his Echo-pad perched on his paper- and journal-littered desk. Gathering some notes to fold and slip into his pockets, Mitch paused before he pulled back his chair and sank into it, eyes fixing on the blank screen of his Echo where it sat. He eventually pressed his thumbprint where was needed to bring the screen to life and gave his hands a tentative flex, muscles and joints still stiff with the chill that’d seeped into them over the meandering walk he’d taken to get here. The moment stretched on as he stared at the slow blink of the database’s search box cursor, long enough that it eventually became impossible to keep blaming the hesitation on his numb fingertips.
Finally and with a quiet exhale, his hands moved to type out a name: Adelle Kühn.
It stung a little less to type than it used to. Her maiden name. What he assumed she’d gone back to after the divorce. As the search function spun Mitch stared at those four simple letters and couldn’t help but remember how excited she’d been to take his name after their wedding. “It’s not because I belong to you now, so don’t get any ideas,” Adelle would joke with an irresistible spark in her eyes. “It’s just going to be so much easier for people to pronounce. And spell. And everything else. ‘Douglas.’”
The database chimed just loudly enough to drag Mitch back to the present, which was merciful except for the NO MATCHES FOUND scrolling mutely across the screen. He ran a hand over the bottom half of his face, scraping across a couple days’ worth of stubble before he pressed cool fingertips against one eyelid under his glasses. Mitch knew as well as anyone that a no match didn’t necessarily mean deceased; as useful as it might be to have a list of the confirmed dead he couldn’t fathom the time and energy it’d take to compile as a secondary database, not when people had more pressing matters to attend to. So circumstances were confined to “survived” and “question mark.” Schrödinger’s status. Neither dead nor alive.
The subsequent few search attempts came with less hesitation, now that he’d started. Adele Kühn likewise yielded no results; neither did Adelle Kuhn or Adele Kuhn.
“It’s Adelle with two ‘l’s, Kühn with an umlaut. I don’t see how that’s so difficult for people,” her voice echoed in the back of his head, with a tone that endeavored to make light of it. Mitch knew her well enough that he’d always heard that fuzzy edge of frustration.
“Now I can just say ‘It’s Adelle with two ‘l’s, and Douglas as in...’ well, Douglas. Only one ‘l’.”
His PDD chimed with a notification that startled him out of his reverie: Cambie. His hand moved to hover over the device in indecision for a moment before dismissing the alert, without opening the message and with a measure of guilt. She’d sent him a notice earlier when he was out walking that he’d similarly left unanswered, the usual desperation to spare her an instance of doom and gloom overriding his typically punctual responses. Mitch made a mental note to send off an apology once he was back to the privacy of his own suite and returned his attention to the Echo-pad.
He typed in one last name, and this one still stung as much as it used to. Mitch couldn’t imagine it’d ever yield any results, but some part of him couldn’t let go of the ‘what if,’ not to mention the off chance he wouldn’t find her if that actually was the name she chose to register and he didn’t bother to search it.
The cursor spun; the same result eventually filtered back.
It didn’t surprise him, but it exhausted him. Slipping his glasses off and setting them aside, Mitch buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath in that he held to a count of five before letting it out again. This was the sort of thing that might’ve caused a lapse in control a couple of years ago, would’ve had the potential to tip a precarious stack of journals or send papers wafting to the floor with half a wayward thought. As it was nothing moved, bidden or unbidden, and Mitch resigned himself to the blanket of quiet in his office. He didn’t have the capacity left to reminisce or even think, but at this point, maybe that was a blessing. He sank into the naggingly persistent exhaustion instead and, folding his arms onto a stack of papers to pillow his head, let a restless doze take over.
The Echo-pad’s screen didn’t time out, declaring its results to the ceiling: Adelle Douglas: NO MATCHES FOUND.
#c. andrews: no matches found#c. andrews.#eyyy my first para!#i did the thing and it's a mile long#i'm belatedly realizing it may be asking a lot#for you to compose an entire para-length reply based on waking his ass up#too late now sORRY
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Have you ever considered writing a story where Peter has a handicap?Example dyslexia, stuttering, autism, limping etc. ? PS: I love your stories <3
Aww thanks anon 😊
It's funny I actually got an ask from an anon uh....a long time ago asking if I would ever write autistic Peter and at the time I kind of gave a noncommittal answer BUT now I have a wip with autistic Peter that is like 3/4 done and is the thing I'm working on putting out next. I'm a LITTLE nervous about it bc I'm mostly pulling from my own experience of being on the spectrum so if anyone comments that I didn't do it right or he wasn't autistic enough it will devastate me personally lol
It's the sequel to Peaches Ain't Pretty but I don't think that's required to read first since it's all Harley POV pre-meeting Peter. You'll just miss out on a couple references but nothing too major.
Since you're here, have an excerpt!
He’s not panicking. Nope. Everything is hunky-dory. A-okay! Peachy-keen jelly bean. Right as rai—
“Peter,” May says, “you’re awfully stimmy this morning. Anything you want to talk about?”
Belatedly, he realizes he’s bouncing his leg so hard the silverware on the table is rattling and snapping repeatedly with one hand while worrying the other against the sleeve of his sweater. “Sorry,” he says, forcing his leg to still as he clenches his hands into fists.
“No need to apologize,” May tells him from the other side of the table. She sips her coffee and regards him seriously over the rim. “You seem keyed up. Is there a big test today or something?”
He shakes his head and crams a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
May takes a pointed drink and waits expectantly for him to finish chewing. Guh. She wants a conversation.
“I’m just nervous,” he admits.
“Oh?”
“So there’s this guy,” he begins.
She sits up straight. “Oh?”
He shoots her a look. “He just— I dunno. I’ve known he’s interested for a while but…” He searches for the words. “I don’t— It’s not like—,”
“Do you like him, Peter?” May asks, a slow grin curling her lips.
“Yeah!” he admits, frustration boiling over. “But I can’t do anything about it. I’m so— I barely have time to breathe. I can’t— I don’t even know how I’d approach starting a relationship. It’s all so complicated,” he moans, as he shoves away his plate and lets his head fall to the table with a thump.
May chuckles. “What can we do to un-complicate it?”
He sighs into the tabletop and says in monotone, “Tell him I’m Spider-Man and a hot mess and that he shouldn’t take it personally that I don’t have time for him.”
“Hmm, yeah, that won’t do,” May muses.
He lifts his head and says haltingly, “I… What if I did though?”
He eyebrows fly into her hairline. “What if you… told him you’re Spider-Man?” she asks slowly.
“Yeah. He…” He pulls a face. “Well, he’s met me as Spider-Man a few times and…” He trails off, remembering the way Harley kept him talking two nights ago as he cut away his suit, cleaned him up, and stitched him closed. How he woke up the next morning with his mask still securely in place. How even the first time he rolled into Harley’s apartment on accident, Harley jumped into action without prying or expecting anything in return.
“I think I trust him,” he says. “No, I do. I trust him.”
May watches him until his knee begins bouncing in the silence. Then she says, “Do you think you should tell him?”
“Well, I don’t— It’s not that— I just—,” He makes a frustrated growl in his throat.
“Take your time, Pete. I’m not in a hurry.”
He takes a deep breath and tries again after a moment. “I’m scared, I guess. Not that he’s going to blow my secret or anything, I just… What if me being Spider-Man is a deal-breaker? What if I tell him and he decides I’m not worth it? It’s… It’s a lot, you know? Of course you know,” he adds, embarrassed. “I know what I do isn’t easy on you guys.”
“Peter,” May says kindly. She puts her hands on the table, palms up where he could easily place his atop them, but he shakes his head. If he’s forced to stillness right now he might combust. She folds her hands together instead and leans forward. “This isn’t a decision to be made lightly, but it sounds like you need to give this guy some credit. You said you’ve met him as Spider-Man and you trust him.”
He nods.
“Does he know you?”
He nods again but then reconsiders. “He… Not really.” He blushes. “He’s got a crush on me but we’ve never actually talked except for when I’m Spider-Man.”
May cocks her head. “Interesting.”
“Please don’t make me get into it. It’s… It’s a mess.”
“Okay. How does he act around you when you’re Spider-Man?”
“That’s the thing. We just… hang out? There’s no flirting or interest or anything but his sister says we click.”
May raises her eyebrows but doesn’t grill him on meeting Bee, thank goodness. “Are you sure he’s not flirting?”
He hesitates. The truth is, he’s not always so great at picking up on flirting or other nuanced social things. “Pretty sure,” he says slowly. “He told his sister he’s not interested because Spider-Man isn’t a real person. It didn’t seem like he was lying.”
May’s face alights with understanding. “Ah, so because he’s not interested in Spider-Man you’re worried he’ll stop being interested in Peter Parker when he finds out you’re the same person.”
He looks down at his plate and shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. I just… What if I tell him everything and he doesn’t want it and then there’s just this person out there who knows but doesn’t want anything to do with me?”
“Pete, honey, think about how he acts around you when you’re Spider-Man.”
He purses his lips and reflects on their interactions together. The bickering and banter, their easy comradery.
“Now think about how he acts around you as Peter.”
His cheeks heat as he pictures those intense stares across campus, Harley’s awkward waves, and the way he always seems to know whenever he’s nearby.
“Do you still think he’ll want nothing to do with you if he knows Spider-Man and Peter Parker are one person?” she asks kindly.
“No,” he admits, “but I’m still scared.”
“That’s normal, honey. It doesn’t mean you should let it stop you though.”
“What if I have an aneurysm and die while I’m trying to tell him?”
“Then he’ll likely carry that trauma with him for the rest of his life,” she says gravely, then cracks a smile. “So I suggest you avoid it.”
He rolls his eyes and says dryly, “Thanks.”
She puts down her coffee. “Permission to go full-mom?”
He sighs. “Permission granted.”
Beaming, she leaps to her feet and rushes to his side. He grunts as she hugs his head to her chest and gushes, “My sweet little boy is all grown up!”
“Maaaay,” he whines.
She releases him and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “You have to tell me how it goes. I’ll be on pins and needles until I hear from you.”
He sighs. That’s the other thing. “Well get comfortable because I can’t tell him unless MJ gives me his note.”
#dyslexia would be cool too!#i'll keep that one in the back of the ole noodle#mine#parkner#peaches verse#sswrites
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i had the misfortune of finally watching/getting through what happened in whatever episode where he gets raped so im gonna talk about it and tag it cos that's what a bitch fuckin feels like, got it? i do what i want aint no limit bad ass bitch aint never been timid. woopsie realized i got the nicknames confused oh well lmao
it's just logistically and plot wise like there's literal plot holes in this and i'm taking the production and set-up into account along with the actual content and development. im an ARTIST OKAY im jk i mean i am and i am pretentious and terrible but look. i didnt get that degree and im not in a house worth of debt for nothing ok. it's called writing on tumblr about my grievances of shows that dont matter and do not respect me as a fat black american woman either so it is my fault yet here i am.
anyway it was worse than i imagined and their talk after (with chengren) was even worse. that's what i mean about making the lines their own (the actors) bc teng teng sounded like a straight up motherfucking moron and im like
bECAUSE IT'S HIM EVEN THO IM LIKE WHAT THE FUCK DID U JUST SAY U STUPID BITCH? but then it's like awwww and they also care about his wellbeing obviously??? but no? but it's like ok still teng teng said it even if it's stupid because he is a character and charles puts that forth. the people that fail the most to do that are xing si's family but that's not the actors fault because it's the literal material. you're like wait what but you just said...?
so i know they have no script editors i guess i think i find this season ACTUALLY fascinating because of just how egregious it is. i also went back and watched history: obsessed which i thought i liked because of their chemistry even though god the production....but i tried rewatching it and i was like wow this is worse than i remembered and the production issues were even worse because some of the music was SO LOUD AND BAD HOLY FUCK and their whole rship isssssss a sight to behold lmao
so man i guess it really is the power of anson/charles. which is good cos we love to see it...sort of but also a lot.
i honestly....because i've been able to pay attn more to the aftermath of the rape going back and putting it into more context and focusing (just barely lmao) is hm even worse. the inconsistencies are insane. it's not even just about the act but the writers have zero idea where they are going because they have no interest in exploring it. but the way in which it happens is like fascinating. yong jie literally thinks he owns xing si and it doesn't matter if he was kissing him or not or asked for a kiss on the lips (which dude what the fuck? i'll get to that) because he was plied with "extremely strong drinks" and his mom knew about it....which girl congrats you're an accomplice to the rape of your son by your other son?
but first of all...the kissing thing. in what fucking world would he (xing si) want that unless he thought he (yong jie) was someone else. i can't say their attraction is evident because we are being lead by this team to think so; they create this false sense of sensuality already so to me that signifies that they never intended for them to have a bond as brothers. it just feels cheap and fucking lazy (which it is.) even if he did, which doesn't make sense considering the context THEY CONSTRUCTED, it wouldn't matter because he was so fucking drunk which.... at that point nothing is fun, you feel sick, who wants sex like that? does he not have whiskey dick? did they have a condom? was it not painful for him considering? even if this was something to easily get over like was the dick good? it couldn't have been. and then, on top of that, there's the fact that you can change your mind or whatever but also that people do get aroused in these situations bc it is human nature (that's if they can literally get aroused which if the drinks were allegedly sooooo strong that nigga would be out so....again like even practically here it doesnt add up. have these people ever been drunk? if not, write what you know girl. cos sometimes it's like i think some of u r trying to be cool when u dont have 2 b lmao)
so yong jie coming on to him previously may be seen as like push-and-pull but here's the thing. right after it happens (the rape and it's rape so call it that you'll be okay) xing si gets up and goes home and is terrified and upset. he acts like what we have seen or even felt after a violation. he's scared, clutching his bag, it's like...you know...decently coming off as truly distressing (the actor isn't bad at all and i like that he's dark. i just massively hate this for him but hey at least he can show some chops.) like honestly man that fucking sucks and hurts to see. if we've been there we feel it. or part of it is realizing belatedly what happened. a lot of times that drop in your stomach is the worst.
but somehow for some reason, to which i cannot understand, the three of them begin to talk as if xing si pressured him? which maybe i missed something and that is possible—dont feel like going back to look—but that also made no sense. like what kind of false memory is this? why would he think he wasn't willing? and if he thought yong jie wasn't and that he pressured him how does he remember like...anything about the sex?!?!??!? besides waking up and being with him. like i guess he felt yong jie's MASSIVE DONG imprint but ??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!??!? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!!!!!
god then the logic of the top/bottom thing is like i said i wasnt going to get into it but it's actually really funny. this whole thing was hilarious. honestly because I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT MEANS. he could have totally raped him in that way but how did you get to this CONCLUSION FROM THAT??????? BY YOUR LOGIC THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS? IF HE IS THE BOTTOM AND PENETRATION IS THE ONLY FORM OF TRUE CONSUMMATION AND RAPE BECAUSE APPARENTLY, BASED ON ANATOMY, IF YOU HAVE A DICK IN UR BUTT UR A GIRL THEN HOW. DOES. THIS. MAKE. SENSE. AND THEN
AND THEN
AND THEN
AND THEN
this whole stupid conversation happens so we get to the conclusion that xing si violated him ok cool but that means that something is wrong. that is the CONCLUSION WE CAME TO A SECOND AGO?
also the other rapist is a villain and muren isn't in love with him so, once again, you're breaking the rules of your own world about acceptability which is why most of this is absolutely mind bogggglinG that iit's fuckign comical. like i actually when i can stomach it start laughing or my jaw is slack because it's so insulting as a viewer because there is like 0 logical followthrough.
because whatshisface barges in, kisses him in front of his friends without permission, then says whether you were willing or not which is hm. at that point how u gonna change that around but let's not bother with logic here. i am simply here to point out how this makes no sense according to the rules they set up even outside of the basic rule of life which is hm dont rape people maybe.
so now we know xing si was raped, they believe he was raped, he himself believes he was raped, and whatshisface literally says he doesn't care even if he was willing (he wasn't) so he admits to rape. i don't believe in the police and i hate them (BL industry needs the cops but dont get me down that road) but no one...thought to go?
because according to history 4 logic nothing matters so im sure if he went to the police you could handwave the homophobia since there's no actual context for anything besides their whimsy. but they dont want to do that because they aren't interested in an arc of growth; redemption isn't possible unless he is removed from the family but again no work on thinking this through or thinking about the victim's feelings. because gay sex? who fucking knows. supposedly progressive taiwanese writers of gay shit (like how supposedly progressive the world is. as in it is not and this behavior is the norm and bl perpetuates that) can't think of transformative justice?
and then they gave bad advice so we wont acknowledge that because teng teng doing anything wrong/stupid is frequent but hurts me and also that storyline is not real so i pretend they are not there outside of this post
so all of this is just straihgt up clownery now because it's fucking absurd like logically, practically, human-wise. the kissing thing is inconsequential but it was such a lazy cheap way out lmao cos they really wanted it to seem consensual but that's not how it works. on top of that their attraction makes no sense because whatshisface is just there. he is just there. he's nothing and no one so the sentiments are even more empty and on top of that he doesnt listen to a single request fucking obviously because the basis of their relationship is fucking rape so fucking listening and respecting his partner is not on his list of fucking priorities. he's literally so fucking annoying even without being a rapist it's like someone please beat his ass.
and then after all of that you want us to feel bad? with your horrible writing, poorly misplaced music, stupid costumes (those fucking SHOES THEY ARE HIDEOUS, AND MOST OF THIER CLOTHES DO NOT FIT IT'S LIKE WHY), questionable fucking editing. we're supposed to wnat them together? this sounds literally fucking crazy but bear with me lmao even with the rape they could at least have SOMETHING i mean like i cant believe im fucking saaying this. but like in addicted heroin which is fuckin tragic and awful at least there's a MODICUM of interest but honestly that show s a fucknig drag. idk they lookd good together? here we have 0. nothing. and it doesnt motivate. watching obsessed again i can see why i liked it in the beginning bc they have good chemistry but the acting and production adn like everything about it plus the rape-y vibes it's just too much. you need to pick one thing so if you're going to be a shit writer at least supplement it with something. this thing is nothing.
and even more nonsensical and what boggles my mind frankly out of all this is the mother's involvement and the father's final response. there are NO consequences? theyre all happy?
ok so lets go through this:
1. 2 boys grow up 2gether, one of the boys is fucking psycho, the mother knows but does nothing??????????????
2. one of the sons moves out so his father doesn't get a hint that's he's fucking gay. ok fine. he has 2 best friends, a job, an apt. he is fine.
3. aforementioned brother is obsessed with him for SOME REASON besides being crazy?
3.5 no one has done anything during him growing up to help him not be crazy?
4. mom says to husband who is their father also just in case we forget "im afraid he will lose his humanity"
4.5 again, do nothing. 0. just like oh man hes crazy. guess that's just our son ;)
4. who cares. plies him with alcohol purposefully to rape him. not even dubious (even though dubious is fucked and not okay or is just not. fucking real. these shows are contextless when they want to be or even movies or whatever so it's like largely not up to the task to understand complexity in human rships and then oversimplifies it constantly because that's what we do IRL. but people have fucking feelings you know and we realize when things don't feel good or right to us either very quickly after or having to process it. and once you're eyes are opened you may feel as something was fucking ripped away from you. for the modc couple this would be a very logical conclusion for the high schooler the thirty year old dated but again logic or feelings are up to their whimsy. no one cares bc everything can be counted as dubious so honestly it's a fucking stupid fucking topic like again why are we litigating what is and isnt consent when you could just like idk. read cues? consent? wait? not be a freak? like we all know what is proper human shit so even if we are watching this uncritically which u cant bc it's glaring and stupid it's just even more dumb) so it was honestly a rape plot like he literally planned it soooooooooo??!?!
5. aftermath of rape the victim is like literally fucking bereft and confused. and a rape victim. like that's what they are insinuating and what also he is to be clear.
6. boy tells him "idc if i raped u i luv u lmao"
7. mom ENCOURAGED THE BOY to get him drunk because her other son was too nice? she encouraged her adult son to rape her adult step-son (but her real son because she repeatedly says you are my son and the dad does too THEY GREW UP TOGETHER WHEN THE KID WAS IN AN IMPRESSIONABLE STATE) so THIS ALSO MAKES EVEN LESS MOTHERFUCKING SENSE
8. everyone finds out about his rape and he isnt mortified he's just concerned about himself being gay to his dad?????? except it's not really about his gayness bc now it's about his sudden love for his rapist brother? which? hm ok. understandable the dad is like wow i do not think i like this
9. dad knows all of it is fucked up, everyone does, knows the mother fucked up, knows he fucked up. doesnt like it because he is normal. so we know this is terrible? ok great so—
10. father says "i can't accept this...but i'm willing to give you my blessing" ok see here's the thing. when you write you have to think about the things you are putting on the page and what you have written previously. this quite literally made no sense how the fuck are you going to not accept them but give them your blessing? does this crew know what the fuck words are? i'm assuming they went to some sort of school to obtain jobs here bc there cannot be natural talent or experience. maybe most of them are rich. fuck i do not know but this also makes no sense. just the literal logic of it it's like fucking insane the whiplash.
10.5 apparently this father is also shitty. everyone here sucks and they are basically begging me to think xing si is a fucking idiot so i dont even want to look at him if he is an object he doesnt matter so now i want to kick him. thanks a lot you made the victim get absolutely fucking nothing
they KEEP PUSHING the brother thing it is so insane and it's liek GUYS WE GET IT WE UNDERSTAND THEYRE "RELATED" BUT NOT RELATED SO IT'S OK HE WAS "RAPED" BUT NOT RAPED but you're GOING BACK ON YOUR OWN RULES!!!!!!!!!! WE GET THAT THEY ARE BROTHERS!!! WE'RE OVER IT NOW BUT WHAT IS THIS WHEN WE ALREADY ESTABLISHED SOMETHING? I AM CONFUSION? they flip flop between my son, my brother my actual brother, and cannot fucking distinguish between love for your father and love for your romantic partner? so to me what i see is that the father wants to fuck the son. that's the conclusion i am garnering now considering nothing matters and his love for his "brother" is the same as his love for his dad lmao. they couldnt even do that in a way that made sense. like damn anybody can get anything. these ppl who are doing this have to be fucking rich and/or have connections.
also this guy sounds literally like a textbook abuser like he says constantly "im the best choice" is a rapist is awful holds capital (oh hees "saving" smh ur trapping her!!!!! RETIRE!!!!) also wears terrible shoes so i am like ur alllllllllLLLLL FUCKING CRAZY ur all literally crazy and then they are trying to set rules and boundaries in their fucking house like WHY ARE THEY LIVING TOGETHER EVEN? even tho oh my god they know he raped him and for some reason they are both allowing to live in the house but they dont want them to have sex??!?!?!??!??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?! i get that this is their house but this is like at this point these ppl are writing anything and now whatshisface is acting like a 2 yr old again and we are supposed to find this cute? like it makes 0 sense why do u fucking care u literally encouraged ur son to rape him so they cant have consensual sex under your nose now and have to wait four years? this is coming from the son who couldnt wait until someone was sober enough to realize hes fucking psychotic and should be killed also the fact that they act like being 20 means u have no fucking brain like this kid is in med school supposedly how do we know like hes a liar and an idiot so. also wait do they mean undergrad? how are you in med school at 20? is he a genius? girl i dont care lmao i guess i missed that but it's not like it matters so whatever
even if we ignore the stupidity of the literal acts, the grossness of the content, the absolute inability to write coherently or even remotely in a way where we would even want to see them together which is like....u set it up at the beginning so he punches "the love his life's best friend" also holy fuck im sorry remember when he punches muren because xing si got too drunk. so i'm guessing whatshisface is that good of a bartender that he makes super strong drinks and gets xing si drunk but his alcohol is magical therefore it doesn't make him sick. his alcohol is the type that gets you drunk but somehow doesnt get to your liver even though that's how we get drunk but dont ask guys he's only in med school and a bartender so i think he knows best (seriously have the main writers had a day of fun in their lives? have they ever been drunk? are they toddlers? drunk babies could probably do better tho.) i get that he was also jealous but if this kid is SOOOOOO genius (he understands social cues lmao he has the cpacity to project onto his victim so im like miss me with the not understanding shit. go to a fucking therapist like seriously did no one care abt this kid? his mother thinks he's like almost a goddamn murderer. how is she not dead? how are they all not dead? how do any of them know how to drive with this type of brain?) then he would understand that they are very clearly friends since he watched them part in a very platonic way and since he apparently knows what love is cos he thinks....he can....make someone fall in love with him bc he loves them? again, i wouldnt know hes 20 and taiwanese and im 29 and black from AMERICA so im WESTERN* so you know. different life experiences i guess XD
even if we do mental gymnastics to get it to a place where they "had sex" and he didnt rape him there's 0 ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ties to the literal story they wrote and the rules they set up. i'm going ot assume they dont know wtf theyre doing and i know for a fact we all care more about their dumb show than they do but it's actually startling how piss poor this is it's like idek what to compare it to. the continuity is awful awful awful they needed a script supervisor majorly and they are making bank and are going to make fucking bank fof this shit. and itll just continue like that until IRL material changes and that's facilitated by these very same groups they choose to profit off of and exploit by propelling it into the mainstream and litigating homosexuality through capitalism. and i'm being specific with homosexuality. i dont want a GL market like at all and i know why we wouldnt have it either and that has everything to do with the nature of BL, capitalism, coercion, and the fanbase being young girls and women. i don't think in this day and age we can safely say all the fans are straight; i'm sure a majority but many women or people on the gender spectrum and sexuality spectrum also consume it. frankly, it's possible the women who write it could be or something too. i dont rly believe any1 is str8 lmao but im just saying it's not out of the realm of possibility. but it isnt about that at all. that's why we wont see "good" female characters (like well written) often that's why we won't see trans women or kathoeys or fat people or black asians in it. a lot of it is is a choice we participate in whatever. but holy fuck dude u could at least respect the audience's fucking intelligence. i'm talking about everything i think that is encapsulated in the project but it's even more jarring and worse because it's so insanely inconsistent and poorly done. like how we jump from one conclusion to another is wild to me. even their first "night together" and he wakes up im like girl....u no ur ass felt it. this nigga broke into his house and was like "im gonna have u" like it's getting weird
just make xing si suffer offscreen not us the stupidity is staggering, mind blowing, hilarious.
how wong kar wai, a straight man from HK (or at least married to a woman), or barry jenkins, a striahgt black man, write/do stories well about people they wouldnt knw about their experiences directly is....well thinking like using their brains and like knowing all types of people? the man who co-wrote moonlight is a hOMOSEXUAL, leslie cheung was fucking gay or queer (and he committed suicide and that's important also RIP homie) both are hailed as queer cinema like WKW wanted to do something else and invested time into it, changed the way he played around with structure, moved away from his crime oriented stuff. he THOUGHT about it and this film is about their reality. it's a harsh film, idk how i feel about it (but my fav movies of his are the crime ones or the messy ones where it's clear he didnt write a script lmao fallen angels is one of my fav movies its' abt assassins kinda) but i know it means something. and he didnt like what HK had previously wasnt enough. it is not the only cinema that should be shown since it's such a stark reality and depressing but it is a real depiction so we can have all sorts of stuff. no this isnt WKW level or moonlight level but i know for a fact these people think they are doing something because artists always do i say this as one and someone who is equally as useless. you're making a statement.
i also hate the westerner component of peoples analyses. first of all dont do cultural relativism. we can critique and respect. but second of all how are we going to keep saying "dont put western ideals on this" when that is what is happening anyway because that's part and parcel for soft power and capitalism. how about taiwan's history with the KMT? what about the regimes young people fought about? aided by US imperialism which permeates through society and affects material conditions, views, democracy, identity and that goes into culture and media. hm? what about that? is that reality too fucking western for people? that we are doing the same thing again now? is that okay to talk about or is that only on your time?
then there's the argument that this is just entertainment. yea no shit but the thing is if we r gonna talk about marginalized groups and watch bc of marginalized groups and then be expected to identify then i dont see why i cant put this in context. even if it wasnt fucking serious we'd still judge it. but it's so pompous and again like i wouldnt say EYE think it's art but it is "art" in the literal sense and no self respecting artist would ever go "man this means nothing." of course im not sure if they do respect themselves so hey but u cant just go oh man it's entertainment when it literally rests on the fact that HOMOS are MARGINALIZED. it literally rests on the fact that WOMEN ARE OBJECTS. you either want progress or you dont. i dont understand being so demanding but not beign specific in the demands and not trying to use your brain. if you dont want to use your brain don't. but if you are looking , engaging, and keep making these arguments or telling ppl it doesnt matter whilst complaining about how much others care is hypocritical at best, willfully obtuse at worst. both bad. :)
(also all this + another thing; it is insulting to have this like wedding happen based off of this stupid relationship when people fought so hard and had to push it. now they can use the material conditions to their advantage but it's so ridiculous. also because there is difficulty still in getting married in taiwan i'm honestly like....the boldness of the writers...)
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oh alice, i was on my way to reply to our thread but 🤯 anon just went ahead and stunned my heart 💕
i'm glad i have your approval but i would like to wait for 🤯 anon too, it is their ideas after all! oh, please don't expect drawings, i am terrible at those unless you want flowers, i can draw you pretty flowers 🌻 it'll probably be a drabble or an edit, it depends on which of their genius we'll run off with!
oh and if 🤯 anon agrees, i'll go off anon, so they can keep their anonymity if they so desire!
yes, i realized it rather belatedly and i tend to do that i'm sorry, i just get really ominous or too assertive when i'm excited, but please know that I WAS JUST EXCITED, but i will try to keep my cool next time uwu
yes i am very very very excited, but i'm trying to reign it in for dear 🤯 anon so they won't feel pressurized 🥰
love, you can say no, no one will be upset, okay, dearest 🤯 anon? i just really love your genius brain, is all
oh, and i'll get to that drabble after dinner ☺ glad to know someone's done something about this genius because!! what a shame!!! to leave this buried beneath piled dust!! and blurred memories!!
but other than that, have as much fun as you can at work, sweetest alice, may your day be full of sunshine and butterflies
lots of love, 🦋
of course, yes! their approval is the one that matters <3 and omg please don’t be sorry, i didn’t take it as anything else but excitement and i loved it, hence my permission 😂💕
ooooh don’t undersell yourself, drawing flowers is an actual skill that i, for example, do not have shdshgsjh. a drabble or an edit both sound amazing, i’d be just as excited for either one of those!! there’d so many messages for you to choose from that would work too!!
and have fun reading! it’s one of the softest things and really doing justice to the bubbly drunk vibes that ask put into words 🥺 thank you, love, and i hope you’ve had (will have?) a great dinner, and that your day’s been wonderful so far! 💖
#will get to your second message a bit later in the evening too#just wanted to let you know i got it <3#answered#🦋 anon#anon
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Excerpt from "The Demon King and the Half-Breed Hermit"
Gotta log off for a while after this but first, I wanted to share this (unedited and incomplete) scene. It's for an upcoming (in-the-works) chapter of my Piccolo/OC-centric ▶Dragon Ball post-GT◀ fic, found on my FFnet account. Why am I sharing it? Firstly, it's proof I'm still writing (...trying...) and despite the long wait for new chapters, DK&HBH has NOT been abandoned. (NOTHING has been abandoned!) Secondly, THIS is what happens when I tell myself "I need to start writing characters who can effectively communicate and deal with their emotions like functional adults!" 😑 Yes...AUBERGINE happens.
Hopefully the "Queen of Issues" can make someone smile.
🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲
Life as a single mother was generally a struggle; as a single mother of two half-Saiyan boys, life was a never-ending catastrophe. Fortunately for Son Chi-Chi, both her boys were grown men capable of running their own lives; unfortunately, that left her to manage her household alone. Oh, sure, Gohan and Videl regularly offered to move her into their home and take care of her, but she wasn't quite ready to accept that offer. She was quite capable of taking care of herself…at least, that is, when she wasn't weighed down with groceries and being chased down by a saber-toothed wildcat.
Winded, she stumbled and landed hard on her knees, her bags falling and the contents scattering. One moment she could practically feel the beast's rancid breath on her neck; the next a warning shout split the air, quickly followed by a pained yelp. Chi-Chi scrambled onto her back and stilled at the familiar silhouette cast by the afternoon sun through the trees. Black hair as ragged as ever and eyes dark as pitch, Aubergine held the struggling wildcat by the throat, leaching away its strength. She drained it a little longer before letting it slink away in shame, then looked to her fallen sister-in-law over her shoulder. "Are you hurt?"
"No," Chi-Chi answered as she gathered the spilled goods, then belatedly added "thank you." Aubrey shrugged and hoisted the bags onto her shoulder as the black faded from her eyes.
"Well, someone's got to shield the squishies," she replied instead. The familiar retort used to irritate Chi-Chi, but now she recognized it for what it was: you're welcome. I don't mind. Aubergine's long silences, half-answers, and silence took a while to adjust to but by now it was like a second language to her sister in-law.
The remainder of the journey to Chi-Chi's home passed in a silence midway between comfortable and awkward, and before she knew it, the matron was stowing away her groceries. Aubergine sat at the table, brooding and fiddling with a small shaker jar from the revolving rack in the middle. Recognizing the speckled contents, she pried the lid open, sniffed at the contents, and sneezed; her eyes and sinuses burned in protest as she jammed it closed and shoved it back on the rack. Yes, she identified it correctly. "So how's Piccolo settling in?" At the resulting silence, she turned to find Aubergine scowling like someone who just chewed five lemons in a row without stopping to sweeten them. "That well, huh?" Chi-Chi teased. I
Aubergine shot her a deadpan glower then exchanged the speckled powder for a jar full of tiny seeds. As if it explained everything, she grunted, "he's not dead yet." These seeds didn't burn her nose but they had a rather unpleasant smell somewhat like rank body odor. Nose scrunching at the stink, Aubrey exchanged the jar for a tall shaker full of tiny white crystals with a much sweeter scent. Over by the table, Chi-Chi gave a knowing smile as the half-breed examined her spices. "I don't understand how one person can require so many of these things," Aubergine muttered surveying the multitude of tiny jars and shakers on the Lazy-Susan. "What's the point of all this crap?"
"Spices?" Chi-Chi asked, and upon receiving a blank look added, "they make food taste good. As for the number, different dishes require different spices—you can't cook everything with the same ingredients." Aubrey stilled, eyes wide and locked on the three jars she investigated before. "What brought you here anyway?" If Chi-Chi didn't know any better, she'd say the half-breed was embarrassed.
"He quit complaining," Aubrey mumbled. "He used to whine that I was poisoning him; now he doesn't say anything…but…he doesn't have to. I thought…" She fell silent, cleared her throat, then collected the other two bottles and shoved the lot toward Chi-Chi. "Fish. It was worse than usual."
Chi-Chi was used to getting only half the picture from her half-Saiyan sister-in-law but this was even less information than usual. Those three spices were never used in the same dish; then again, this was Aubergine, and Aubergine was quite possibly the worst cook in the realms. "Correct me if I'm wrong," Chi-Chi asked, "but are you saying you cooked fish…with black pepper, cumin, and sugar…?" The half-breed glanced at the jars, read the fading labels, and gave a wary nod; Chi-Chi felt her breakfast threaten reappearance. "No wonder, then," she sighed. "Cumin and pepper can be used on fish but generally not together, and you don't use sugar on seafood."
"This is so stupid." …and so began Aubrey's usual response to statements regarding food as anything beyond life-preserving sustenance. After so many years of hearing the same thing over and over again, Chi-Chi easily tuned out the increasingly loud rant and gathered a few more appropriate seasonings for fish. "Food doesn't have to taste good!" Aubergine spat without regard. "Its only purpose is to keep you from dying of hunger, anything beyond that is friv—" Finally, she went silent. Of course, taking Chi-Chi's frying pan to the skull would shut anyone up.
"There's more to life than just existing," Chi-Chi scolded as Aubergine rubbed the already swelling lump on her skull and growled under her breath. "There's more to life than just survival. We were put on this Earth to thrive, not just not die."
"We were put on this Earth because my dumbass brother didn't have the balls to kill that midget Pilaf from the start." This time she ducked the frying pan.
"You're missing the point as always," Chi-Chi huffed. "I swear, you're so much like my Goku. Aubergine, when your life's over, you'll have an eternity to look back on what you did. If all you have to look back on is not dying, then what's the point?" Aubergine went silent, glaring at the wall beside her as if blaming it for everything that ever went wrong in her life. It didn't escape Chi-Chi that said wall stood between her kitchen and the home Goku and Aubergine grew up in. Not for the first time, she wondered what the half-breed's life was like in those early years, and what molded her into the distant, bristly woman she was now.
"Life was always enough before." The admission was quiet—half-muffled in Aubrey's mostly flat chest and aimed into the polished tabletop—but to the human matron it had the same impact as a battle cry. "Stay out of danger," the half-saiyan muttered as though reciting some sort of task list. "Find and maintain shelter, locate reliable sustenance, protect your brother…" ..wait for me to come find you. I promise, I'll come find you! Bardock may have been a visionary, but an honest Saiyan, he was not. He never came for them… "That used to be enough…" …until said brother ran off with a blue-haired teenager in search of adventure and left Aubergine behind. Sure, she caught up after a while and tagged along for a few misadventures—living alone in the wilds got boring, after all—but at the end of the day, she couldn't even accomplish the most important of these tasks. She couldn't protect Goku. One hand strayed up to brush her bangs out of her dead eye. She couldn't even protect herself. "Why isn't that enough anymore?"
"Perhaps it never really was enough." Chi-Chi's smile held no judgment and her voice no censure. "Perhaps you're only just realizing it now." Perhaps…Aubergine turned to the window, eyes trained on the distant misty peak of Mt. Paozu. After so many years of feeling stuck in place, maybe it was time to change. "I've offered before and the offer stands—I'll teach you to cook if you'll let me." For the first time, the offer was answered with a long silence instead of some bitter retort or evasive remark, proof in Chi-Chi's mind that the other was finally considering it.
"A year ago none of this would've…" Aubergine fell silent; again, she was driven to brush her bangs away from her blind eye though they weren't impairing her sight. That nervous tic would be the death of her someday… She cleared her throat and tried again. "Nothing mattered a year ago. It still shouldn't matter." Chi-Chi faltered. She recognized where this topic was leading as easily as she knew how Aubergine must have reacted to Piccolo's resurrection. She smoothed the skirt of her long dress and seated herself at the table. The rest of the groceries could wait a bit longer.
"The first time I lost Goku…" I lost Goku. Even after so many times of saying those words, her throat still caught around them; even after how many times Goku died, the very mention still triggered an echo of the day Krillin brought her the news. Her son, missing – her husband, dead – worst of all, the threat wasn't even over. "Well, I was a mess," Chi-Chi finished mildly. The past was in the past—let it lie there in peace. "Every time I lost him, I felt sure it was my fault for not being strong enough to keep him. Every time he came back, I tried harder than before to make him stay…and every time, I lost him again anyway…the last time, for good. He refused to be revived." Even now, the words made her eyes burn and her throat clench, so it was a comfort when Aubergine broke the tense silence.
"He was an idiot like that." The dry remark earned a weak chuckle.
"Indeed. Even now, were he to walk through that door, I'd still take him back. He left us all behind when he refused resurrection, but I'd still welcome him home with open arms." She hummed softly, leaning on her elbows and looking out the nearest window. Already the blue of the sky was deepening and the days, shortening—harvest time might come early this year. "For all his faults, and there were many, Goku was always so much stronger than I ever could be. I could never leave behind those I love, even to keep them safe…he did so without a second thought."
"But when the danger's gone, how does staying dead solve anything?" Aubergine cut in—an unusually long sentence from an unusually brief speaker. "The people he left behind—they still needed him—they depended on him, and he turned his back on them!" Chi-Chi hazarded a glance at her company; Aubergine was off in another world, her vision trained somewhere far beyond the woodgrain of the tabletop. "Didn't he know? Didn't it matter?" Chi-Chi's wrinkle-framed lips tilted into a sly smile.
"He knew there were such people, I'm sure," she answered. "I have a feeling he didn't quite understand what it would put you through." Aubergine gave a faint nod, eyes distant, then startled as she realized the subject change. Both women knew they were no longer talking about Goku; neither was ready to admit it, either. The half-Saiyan's cheeks darkened in embarrassment, but the effect was lessened by the venomous glare aimed out the window. "You never told him, did you?" Chi-Chi pressed.
"Why bother?" Aubergine muttered. "He knew what he was doing. He had to know I'd—" She fell short, remembering vividly the searing pain in her chest from the day the earth was destroyed—the fracturing of a heart timed to the shattering of a planet. From the first wince to the last breath, she felt Piccolo die, and it was a feeling she'd never forget…or forgive. "...I never should have marked the bastard."
Once again, Chi-Chi was given only bits and pieces, but this time she was content with it. If the scars on Aubergine's throat were any indication, the whole picture wasn't one she cared to see.
#dragon ball gt#dragon ball#Fanfiction#wip#Piccolo#piccolo/oc#proof I'm not giving up#emotions are hard#tagging took 20 tries because my autocorrect id smokimg the crack and likes correcting properly spelled words into gibberish#fuck you too Kindle#fanfiction and fanart#Chi-Chi is more than just a fishwife
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Theater of the Soul - Chapter 25
"Ready?"
"Let it roll, Demetrius."
"Come and get me, Lysander."
Tim watched from the rafters as Dick and Jason bantered easily, both already in costume. Tonight will be Jason's 'farewell' from A Midsummer Night's Dream. For good. He would be Demetrius, and get his self-proclaimed "lifelong dream of fighting Dickiebird." Stephanie will continue to be Puck. The house was filled to the brims, tickets flying out the ticketmasters as soon as the show was announced a few weeks ago. Tonight will be Jason's final appearance in Midsummer, and his premiere return to the Wayne House's roster.
All on his 17th birthday.
And Tim will record them all in photographs, including the pre-curtain call bickering.
"Hey little bird, come down here for a sec." Jason suddenly called him. Tim obliged and swung himself down, landing right in front of Jason. "How about a good luck kiss?" Jason asked, wrapping his arms around Tim.
"You know that cavorting me could get you arrested, right?" Tim joked, only hesitating for a fraction of a second before pressing himself closer to Jason. It took the family all but three dates in two weeks to catch on. And Tim could still see Bruce's tender smile and Dick's unabashed squeal when he and Jason confirmed that they were going out. Oh, that, and a plethora of condoms that magically appeared in his bedroom drawers - and he suspected in Jason's too. Because... well, Tim still wasn't sure if it was Dick or Stephanie; or the conspiracy between the two who would always feign innocence whenever they were confronted.
Jason rolled his eyes. "You're two years younger, Timothy. Not twenty." he scowled.
"Okay then," Tim stood on tiptoe, pressing a kiss onto Jason's lips. Savoring the warmth, the slight taste of chocolate and mint, and Jason-ness. Until somebody coughed behind him.
"Get a room, children." Stephanie scowled. "Now come give me my good luck kiss, mascot!" she demanded, tugging Tim's shirt.
"Mascot?!?" Tim squawked indignantly. But he kissed Stephanie, anyway, way more chaste than his kiss for Jason.
"Oh, I agree. Stay small, Timbit." Harper chimed in and stole a kiss on Tim.
"Why do I get to be a mascot??" Tim whined. "Also, Harper, you're not getting on stage. Why are you kissing me??"
"Because we love you, squirt." Dick declared, adding, "The one true Robin Goodfellow of the House of Wayne." before settling on bear-hugging Tim.
"Good luck, guys." Tim finally managed, after the entire cast went past him. Except Jason. "Good luck," Tim told Jason, as the latter stood in front of him looking whimsical. "I'm definitely not gonna tell you to break anything." Tim grinned. Jason might still need a crutch when walking on stage; but the costume department worked around the clock to create a costume that would provide a crutch for Jason's legs, yet not looked out of place in the period costume.
"Mascot..." Jason mused, sidling closer to Tim again and placed his hands on either side of Tim's waist. "You're my mascot, birdie."
Tim pouted at him jokingly. "Fine," he said, standing on his tiptoe to hook his chin on Jason's shoulder as Jason swayed them both slightly.
"Wanna make it permanent?"
"In five to six years, maybe. Ask me again." Tim grinned, feeling the pitter-patter of his heart.
A flash suddenly sparked from their left, and Tim looked around just in time to see Barbara grinning impishly. "For posterity's sake." she said, waving her cellphone. "Alfred will want this framed."
Tim laughed, tightening his arms around Jason. There will be more photos and memories, he was sure. The bird photo, the little red robin that started to fix everything, has been framed in a human-sized frame in front of Jason's bed over the fireplace. "Just to remind me that I'm home," Jason had said. "maybe one day I'll replace that thing with like, a tiger or whatever's deemed masculine or a superhero or something. Right now, I just want it there."
Tim believed him. After all, it was the bird who had brought Jason home.
At the night's end, when Bruce called everyone on stage for an encore, somebody dragged Tim along. "Come on, Tim! Get on there!"
It took Tim a few seconds to realize that it was Cullen, who unceremoniously tossed him into Jason's arm just as Bruce called, "...and this family, the family of the Wayne and Kane House, thankd you all for coming and welcoming our family to entertain you. We could never make it without you!" he turned, glaring at Tim at the last word.
Tim hid his blushing face on Jason's chest, and felt the rumble of laughter. "he's right," Jason remarked. "Take a bow, Timmers!" he pushed Tim forward a little, in time for Bruce to remark, '...to introduce to you, the true Robin Goodfellow of our House: Tim Drake!'
Tim glared at the lights and silhouettes of people behind it for several long seconds until somebody grabbed his shoulder. "Bow!" Jason's voice insisted.
So Tim took a few bows, amidst the applause.
"Tim might not be right there on the stage, but he keeps the memories of our house alive and archived." Bruce explained. "...and starting tomorrow, we shall present to you some of the archives, with commentaries from those who were there--"
Oh, right. Tonight might be Jason's last night in 'Midsummer Night's'. But tomorrow, Tim's gallery would open, right there at the Wayne House's lobby, to display the photographs he had taken through the years. It was Jason's idea, and Bruce supported it thoroughly; and then promoted it to the point where there was no way Tim could get away from it.
And Tim knew, it was for him. So that he shall be known as Tim the photographer. Not Tim the poor not-actor child of actor-and-actress Jack and Janet Drake. Not Tim the replacement Puck. Just as Tim, the photographer. Memory-keeper.
Tim looked at Jason, still a little flabbergasted long after they all got off the stage. "Whaddya say we make more memories, birdie?" Jason said, handing him a bag.
Tim laughed. "This is your birthday! I'm supposed to be the one giving you a gift!"
"Consider that thing a belated birthday gift. I'm still gonna be paying for it through the next few gigs." Jason grinned. "Go on, open it!"
Tim grinned, reached into the bag and pulled out a yellow-pad-paper wrapped box. He rolled his eyes. "Really," he deadpanned.
"Stuff it. I can't find anyone who'll get me pretty papers to wrap it who won't tattle on me to you." Jason scowled. "Just tear through it!"
"I will, oh my gosh, patience!" Tim retorted, and decided to do just asked, tear through it - after failing to find the ending of the sellotape. He gasped once it was opened. "Oh my god! Jason!"
"Yeah, hi. I don't know if it's good or not. I just asked the guy at the store for the best there is and he gave me this. It's not the most expensive, but like, he said-- he said it's the best and all that... especially for motion and/or high activity and--" Jason spluttered.
"Jason. shut up! This is awesome!" Tim tore through the box of the high-end camera he had been saving up to buy. And then remembered something. "You owed somebody for this."
"Sure, Bruce. I'm paying it with my salary." Jason shrugged.
"Jason, you don't have to--"
"Oh no, I don't have to," Jason cut him off. "I just want to. That's one thing that'll worth my weight in gold in your hands." He paused suddenly, expression turned solemn. "It was your photo that brought my memory back. The gallery might be a mere colorful and fun pictures to see for everyone else. For me, it's... the literal thing that's worth all the gold in the world, right? I mean," he shrugged. "Yeah. Anyway. Everything started with your camera, right? I'd like it to end with your camera and retain your love of it. Hopefully, of me, too."
Tim smiled shyly. "That's really cheesy," he commented. "but profound."
"I'm made of profundity."
Tim snorted and laughed. "Cheesy McCheese with extra cheese on profundity. You're alright," he said.
"Yeah, you too, birdie." Jason ruffled his hair. "Now let's go to the mess hall. Alfred's gonna kill us if I'm late. I'm the birthday boy, after all!" Even after Jason refused a birthday party, Alfred still insisted on throwing a post-show celebration dinner for all of them. Emphasis on 'them' instead of Jason, and thus prevented Jason from bailing out entirely.
"Thank you," Tim said, a little belatedly as they walked side by side to the dining hall - the 'mess' hall.
"Timmy, just let me know whatever you need to keep you happy, yeah?"
"Diamond blings?"
"Anything that doesn't require the blood of innocent. Besides, aren't you a little too young for diamonds?"
Tim laughed. "Anything?"
"Yep, you've done so much for the lot of us. Let us - me, especially - help you stay happy."
Tim paused at the door of the dining hall, letting Jason walked in first and basked in the 'happy birthday' greetings. Everyone was there. There were new people - imports from the Kane House when they merged with Wayne House; including Kate Kane herself who was sitting next to Barbara. The two redheads - Kate with her bob-cut and Barbara with her long flowing locks - looked almost like sisters. Even Barbara's father, James Gordon, was there.
Otherwise, most were the people Tim has gotten to know for quite some time. In other occasions, the family would sit everywhere they want. Tonight, they were grouped at the head of the table, with two empty chairs for Jason and Tim placed side-by-side. All have started eating, but given Alfred's propensity for - at least - six-course meals, they weren't going to be finished soon.
Jason took a seat nearer to the head of the table, next to Bruce; and Tim took the next one. Dick and Barbara across them, next to each other.
Tim didn't want to cringe, but he must have - because Jason elbowed him lightly just when Bruce started tinkling his spoon against his wine glass. "Everyone, may I have your attention please!" he called out and stood up.
Jason groaned unabashedly. "I thought the speech part is over..."
"I'm a dramatic person. Bear with me." Bruce quipped. "Pardon me for interrupting your feast. But I thought it would be proper to make it official. Let this feast be the mark of the new Wayne and Kane House of Family Theater. May it bring happiness to those who came across it; and deter anyone thinking to cross it." There were choruses of 'amen', 'hear ye!' and the equivalent thereof. "Enjoy the meal!" Bruce closed and sat back down amidst the applause. "As for you two, young men..." he glared at Tim and Jason alternately.
"Ruh-roh..."
"We in trouble, Scoob..." Tim squeaked jokingly.
"No you're not in trouble. Not now, at least - or not that I know of..." Bruce turned toward Alfred with one eyebrow cocked in question. Alfred's small smirk assured him. "Just... if either of you find any mischiefs that might be a long con, let me know, yeah? I might hire somebody to make a play out of it."
"Whaaa...??" Jason squawked. "Seriously??"
"Yes," Bruce assured him. "I have started the process - just an outline for now. It would be great if you can help me with some of the details. Not to capitalize on your misery, but..."
"Oh no, I'm not offended. My entire life in the past few years could be enough to be a PSA warning for anyone looking for all that glitters in Hollywood. I'm just... who'd be interested in that kind of cliché?"
"Sane people," Kate Kane replied with a small smirk. "And you're right, it could be a PSA. But it will be a start. I shall lead the script-writing department, and I would love some help, if neither of you all mind." she addressed the last comment to include Barbara and Dick.
"I'll do the proofreading part. When it comes to imagination, you might want to rely on these two--" Barbara pointed to Jason and Dick. "fact checks, him or me." she added, pointing to Tim. "Schematic or pattern check, him."
"Cool! So we get to tell the adventure - our adventure, with a lot of artistic liberty. Can we make the villain look like, really creepy? 'It' clown kind of creepy?" Jason wanted to know.
"We can do whatever we want," Bruce agreed. "You can be in drag if you want - because I can always rely on Barbara to assess the rating later."
Tim looked at Jason, the latter looking excited at the prospect and started suggesting medieval and/or early 18th century Americas as the background, and started bickering with Dick about the lack of youtube in either era which would "poke a hole on the plot so big your ego could drive through it,"
Tim looked up just in time to catch a soft smile on Alfred's commonly-stoic face. The old man caught his eyes, and smiled at him. Tim smiled back.
Tonight might be the end of A Midsummer Night's Dream; but for the Wayne and Kane House, tonight shall be the first step to the future.
#Jason Todd#Tim Drake#SoulTheater!AU#no-capeAU#batfam#Dick Grayson#Stephanie Brown#Harper Row#Cullen Row#Barbara Gordon#Kate Kane#Bruce Wayne#Alfred Pennyworth#JayTim
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I agree with 🍉 anon, Karla is redeemable. I think she just needs a big ass wake up call, like this man will never return your feelings, it would benefit you to move on and find someone who DOES. Plus, she also needs to realize that you can't really make someone fall in love with you. Of course feelings can change, but they just as often don't. You mentioned in a previous ask that the "I'll love you enough for both of us until you grow to love me back" mentality she has sounded a little like Bonnie, but the difference there is Bonnie IS heathy with her feelings. She still loved JK, but I think she recognized that she can't MAKE JK love her back, and tried to move on with her life while letting him go to move on with his. Karla instead tried to eliminate what she considered were obstacles in getting her man (get the one JK really wants out of the way AND help a captive woman escape, kill two birds with one stone) and lashed out when things didn't go the way she wanted them to, which was incredibly unhealthy. Maybe JK noping out after sending M away was a wake up call. If not, then maybe JK only returning WITH M will be.
I don't think anyone but Karla is at fault for her toxic feelings, but that one "JK is too nice" ask has me thinking that he definitely gave her the "I can't have kids and I don't want to condemn you to that life" or whatever excuse because he wanted to spare her feelings when turning her down. It's even more likely when you consider he has known Karla for a long ass time, and definitely not in the "everyone knows everyone in the hold" kind of way. She's the younger sibling of his childhood friend/lover/wife so he probably cares about her and her feelings in a way that he doesn't with the other random women he's not interested in being with. I kind of wonder if she still would've held out for him if he had given her a firmer no, because what he told her does sound a little like "this is the only reason I'm not doing this with you, it's not because I don't like you." Her feelings becoming an unhealthy obsession is on her, but maybe it could've been avoided if JK had turned her down in a way that would not have given her hope where there was none. 😬
That's also assuming Karla was being truthful about what JK said when he turned her down. Her obsession makes her more than a little unreliable, but JK also is, too, what with his inability to clearly read others and their motivations and feelings and assuming everyone operates the way that he does. It's not hard to believe he told Karla that and thought that was enough to let her know it was 100% not gonna happen.
-Heyo!
This is great, especially the distinction between Bonnie and Karla. Even when they WERE together, Bonnie would *say* she was doing everything to make her alpha happy, but actually she was doing a lot of finding herself and only belatedly being like "oops, will he like this?"
I think too your assessment is fair too that JK may not have been as blunt or firm as he ought to hvae been. There may have even been some ego in it for him Karmen doesn't want me, but her sister does. I don't want that to sound cruel or malicious though, because that thinking was probably more subconscious. on the surface, she's his wife's younger sister, he had no sexual or romantic interest in her ever, and sort of just brushed off her "crush."
Honestly all this debate makes me want to find a bigger part for Karla in the wrap up of the story, haha. The debate is so compelling!
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