love how eeaao climaxed with Evelyn's whole hearted acceptance and open support of Joy being gay. starting at that put upon tolerance at the beginning and then the "you!! youre the reason my daughter is gay!" when she first meets Jobu Tupaki. obviously her marriage and her business and her father's rejection of her are also crucial to the film but when Joy and Evelyn are fighting, "stop calling me evelyn, i am your mother!"- thats not an assertion of her authority- thats saying "whoever wherever whatever you are i will love you because i choose to be your mother. of a thousand possible realities for the both of us i'm choosing you". their relationship is deeply flawed at the beginning of the film. Joy spends half of her act one scenes near tears, in turn harped on for her life choices and dismissed entirely. to go from that to being unequivocally accepted and protected- of course she runs! what do you even do with that!!! and then not dragged back or left to drift away- but followed to the point of no return and asked to stay. not just Straight Joy. not just Successful Joy. not Joy-Who-Listens-To-Her-Mom, not even Mediocre, Just-Okay Joy. any of these Joys Evelyn couldve had, any of these changes were entirely within her reach. but its tattooed college drop-out lesbian Joy who is told she's the only version of herself that her mother needs to be proud of.
Evelyn's father disowned her for marrying a man who he disapproved of. she doesnt want to risk that relationship again, between her father and her daughter, for Joy yes as well as for herself. one of the first jumps Evelyn makes is one where she stayed at home, listened to her father, and the world is her goddamn oyster. "i saw my life without you. it was beautiful, i wish you could have seen it." but we also see a world where she is blinded as a child and her father supports her and her opera career for the rest of her life. she's worn down over the years, yes but her first biggest bad-turn trauma is Gong Gong telling her "i am not your father". and she stares down the possibility of that again and proceeds to step up to bat and step up as Joy's mom. how different is "it's protocol" to "it's tradition"? kill your daughter shes a monster kill your daughter its for the good of us all- evelyn doesnt kill joy but she still wants to change her. the movie doesnt end until she chooses that for all her flaws none of them matter. all that matters is joy.
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I do want to talk about sharing art online from the perspective of a hobby freelancer but before that I'll just toss this tidbit I mentioned on my main
Reblogs are not numbers. Reblogs are meant to share and pass on artwork that someone may like. NO ONE is forced to reblog anything BUT it is a core of engagement in a space like tumblr. Engagement is what brings in interest after all and it's one piece of what makes it important for freelance artists here.
When you look at the numbers and the notes, we need to stop viewing them and comparing them with likes (me included) or total in general. It doesn't help.
Artists do self rebloging to both show or remind folks they've done some work as well as to nudge people to reblog their stuff. Tags are nice and comments in them are a nice way to engage too but passing on the work, especially to help someone to get noticed, is a good way to just work the site as intended.
It will always be about luck because we can't guess who wants to engage with what online. You also can't blame yourselves for this. Don't use the internet mentality of "content" (eugh!) and "flopping" and go about it that way. People find stuff I drew years back and find ways to engage with it now. It's really about luck.
There are things that can help but I'll go about it in another post.
One more thing. Don't be shy about "shilling". Advertise your open commissions, your patreons or ko-fis. I promise it has nothing to do with how big of an artist you are. Remember that you're doing that within your own zone so "bothering" followers is hardly the case, it's your house. Make a tag for it if it helps your mind. I say as someone with social anxiety.
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Writing Game 1.1: Simple
Prompt: Picnic
Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent
Thank you to the 87 wonderful freaks who voted on my lil poll! I hope you enjoy the first of nine little short fics for this first round!
"Y'know, traditionally, picnics don't involve so much... silver." Clark chuckles, gesturing at the chilled silver tureen of fruit, the mahogany charcuterie board, and the few cloche-covered platters of sandwiches, profiteroles, and chocolate covered strawberries laid out as they take a picnic in the gardens on the grounds of Wayne Manor.
Bruce gives a smirk, his dark blue eyes twinkling. He leans across Clark, enjoying the way the farmboy blushes as he glances down where Bruce's shirt creases at the open button. "That so? I wasn't aware you were a picnic aficionado."
"Oh, hush." Clark chuckles, pushing ever so gently against Bruce's chest to move him back to his side of the plush red patterned carpet laid down beneath them in the garden - probably some material like cashmere.
"Truthfully, I... may have gone a bit overboard." Bruce admitted. "Despite my extensive training, I am... rusty with my culinary skills."
"Wait, you're telling me part of your Batman training was cooking?"
Bruce levels an unamused look at the astonished Kansan.
"Sorry. Carry on."
"I just... sometimes I can go overboard when it comes to extravagance, to cover up the inadequacy I feel at the basic level."
"You're charming enough at parties." Clark muses, observing Bruce, watching him make a conscious attempt to remain open in his body language, to defy the instinct telling him to conceal his emotions. It was adorable how hard he had to try to be vulnerable.
"It's easier when I'm playing a role. When I'm Bruce Wayne, the socialite, the Prince of Gotham, it's no different than playing the role of Matches Malone, or any other aliases. I can throw myself into the character. When I'm stripped of pretense... I'm woefully incomplete."
"Well, that's just not true."
Bruce rolls his eyes. "You really think that? My deficiencies in simply making a meal for myself without Alfred's aid, my failures as a parent and mentor, my lack of skill in basic socialization-"
"When you make yourself into a checklist, you're bound to leave some stuff out. You look at yourself with such a critical eye, you're bound to see all the flaws before the good. If nothing else, that just goes to show how self aware you are." Clark smiles, gently plucking a chilled square of watermelon.
"Leave it to you to turn my self-pitying musings into a complement."
Clark smiles, using a black cloth napkin monogrammed with a gold W to catch the juices of the fruit running down his chin. "Pa always used to try and freak me out. He said if you swallow a black watermelon seed, you'd grow a watermelon in your stomach."
Bruce raises an eyebrow. "I haven't heard about that."
"It's not true. In fact, it's not even anecdotally true; nothing will happen, they're not even slightly toxic, like apple seeds. It's just some random thing we used to say or believe. Like that you shouldn't swim right after eating."
Bruce doesn't talk about his parents. Just as a general rule. And he doesn't now, even though he can probably tell that Clark is wondering if Bruce's dad would've told him these silly little lies, or any of the other countless common parental platitudes. Clark is a deeply empathetic person, and it hurts him to imagine that Bruce never got to be with his parents. It's not even the same kind of situation as him with Jor-El and Lara, who are still somewhat strangers to him - he still had parents. Still had Ma and Pa. And Bruce had Alfred, but it couldn't be the same.
Clark looks at him and instead says, "Can I have a hug?"
And Bruce looks startled, but obliges him. Gracefully, fluidly rises and practically straddles Clark, embracing him. Clark sighs happily and leans back until he's lying down, Bruce on top of him, pulled into an inadvertent kiss.
They kiss for a while, then lie together looking straight up, watching the clouds drift by in the sunlight. A brilliant day, not even just by Gotham standards. Bruce still isn't sure that Clark didn't fly up there before the picnic to ensure the perfect weather.
"I don't mind how extravagant you are. I think it's just how you show love. And besides, I know you don't really mind how plain I am."
"I envy it. I wish I could be simpler, I just... don't know how."
"I don't need you simple, silly. I just need you."
"That's exactly the kind of sugary sweetness I expect from you."
"Why, I do believe I'm growing on ya, Mister Wayne."
Bruce looks at him. Clark looks back. He can see Bruce steeling himself, preparing. And he lets out a very, almost comically, serious...
"I love you."
Clark allows himself one second of pure shock, realizing just how much it took from Bruce to say that, finally.
"I love you too."
Bruce's hand finds its way into Clark's, and they stare into the sky until the sun starts to set and the honeybees start coming for the fruit left uneaten.
Some things, it seems, truly are that simple.
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