#( it's easily done tbf )

[hephaestuscrew]

“This has both our names on it”: Viewing Fleet and Clara’s relationship in Victoriocity through a queerplatonic lens

TL;DR: By Season 3 of Victoriocity, Fleet and Clara have developed a committed emotional partnership that certainly moves beyond the purely professional. Whilst very much operating as a duo, they can be interpreted as often rejecting or subverting romance-coded elements in their relationship, instead embracing a unique dynamic that can be read as resonating with the concept of a queerplatonic relationship (QPR).

Buckle up because this is over 2,500 words long! If you'd rather read it as a document, you can access it here: Fleet & Clara QPR Google Doc

Disclaimer: I'm not making any claims about creator intent, nor about how anyone else ought to interpret Fleet and Clara's dynamic. It's also worth acknowledging that queerplatonic relationships are inherently defined by the people in them and any attempt to apply such terminology to a story set in 1887 is obviously anachronistic (although whether that should matter when said story also contains a cyborg Queen Victoria is up for debate). 

With that said, if we define a QPR as a committed personal partnership which is not entirely captured by the typical expectations of either friendship or romance but may contain some elements typically associated with either (other definitions of QPRs are available), I enjoy viewing Fleet and Clara's relationship through a QPR lens, and I want to talk about some of the reasons why I think this reading works.

***Spoilers for all three seasons of Victoriocity and the novel High Vaultage***

Detective duos

Even before we actually get into Fleet and Clara's particular bond, detective / crime-solving duos as a general concept have QPR energy to me (which probably predisposed me to this interpretation). It's the Holmes-and-Watson legacy. It's the use of the word 'partner' in a non-romantic context (‘associate’ or ‘companion’ can also serve a similar purpose). It's the intense trust and reliance on each other. It's the sense of being a recognisable pair, always appearing together, known as a duo, with skills and attributes that complement each other. 

Romantic assumptions

Moving on to Fleet and Clara specifically, one aspect of their relationship that can be read through a QPR lens is how they are often in situations where other people believe or imply that there is a romantic relationship between them. Sometimes this is a deliberate strategy of theirs, and sometimes it’s imposed upon them by others. But I’d argue that there’s never a point where they both simultaneously seem entirely comfortable with that romantic narrative for their relationship. Usually one of them will actively deny the assumption or react negatively to the implication:

When Mrs Hampshire interprets Clara and Fleet as a couple experiencing “young love”, Clara might be happy to adopt this as an effective cover story, but Fleet seems unsettled and keen for them not to be perceived this way: “No. No. You’ve misunderstood, we are not, that is to say I am…” (S1E2)

When Warden Hughes assumes Fleet is the new Warden and Clara is the new Warden’s wife, Clara says “I am certainly not”, with emphasis on the ‘certainly’. (S2E2)

Fleet definitely doesn’t sound enthused when he realises Clara has gone for a married couple as their cover story at the Grand Salcombe: “I am sure I’ll regret asking, but by any chance am I [Mr. Theasby?]” (S2E2)

When Titus Byrne tells the pair “I take it you're happy sharing [a room]”, Clara responds with a horrified “What?” (S3E4) (Obviously sleeping in the same room isn’t inherently romantic, but it is often perceived that way.)

Of course, fake dating and external assumptions of romance are very common tropes in romantic will-they-won't-they dynamics, and these moments could definitely be interpreted that way for Fleet and Clara. But I prefer to read these instances as reflecting a different kind of closeness between these two characters. They have a sense of emotional partnership that allows a marriage cover story to seem plausible to others and that other people sometimes automatically assume to be romantic (obviously with some period-typical heteronormativity at play). But to me, it doesn't seem like either of them are fully comfortable with their relationship being perceived in a directly romantic way. Perhaps they are a couple in a different sense…

Proposal via door plate 

The way that Fleet asks Clara to be his business partner has always seemed to me like a platonic version of when people find personal ways to surprise their romantic partner with a proposal:

CLARA: You bought me a door plate for your office? [...] This has both our names on it. FLEET: What do you think? CLARA: I like it. (S2E7)

Fleet could have just asked Clara outright, without going to the trouble of buying a sign that would have been useless if she’d said no. If it was purely a professional business proposition with no emotional meaning behind it, I think he would have just asked verbally. But instead, he gifts her a sign with their two names paired together: Fleet-Entwhistle Investigations. There's something so intimate about that to me: about Fleet asking Clara whether she would like to be a duo with him in a more formally-defined but still non-romantic way; about him choosing to present this offer in the form of a gift; about the way he presents her with their two names joined together etched into metal and asks what she thinks; about the significance that this gesture attaches to their partnership; about him having enough trust that she'll say yes that the effort and vulnerability of presenting her with that sign seem worth it for him. And the gesture means an awful lot to Clara:

She thought about the door plaque he’d had engraved with both their names on it as his way of inviting her to be his business partner – typical Fleet, refusing to tell her so much as his favourite breakfast food and then to go and do something like that. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. (High Vaultage, p187). 

Anniversaries

In the special episode ‘Murder in the Pharaoh's Tomb', Clara says “And you know what else is a big occasion Fleet? It's our one-month anniversary.” She wants to celebrate the anniversary of Fleet-Entwhistle Investigations. Their partnership holds a significance for her that means key dates associated with it are worth remembering and remarking upon. 

When Clara first mentions their anniversary, Fleet nearly chokes on his drink, which seems like an instinctive reaction to the usually romantic connotations of an anniversary (see my point above about Fleet not being comfortable with their dynamic being perceived as romantic). But when Clara clarifies what she means, Fleet seems much more cheerful about the notion of their anniversary: “Ah, so it has.”

“Miss Clara Entwhistle, my partner”

I get extremely strong QPR vibes from this moment, when Fleet introduces Clara to the sailors at Grave End:

FLEET: This is Miss Clara Entwhistle, my partner - in business, my business partner. CLARA: I'm also his friend, but he doesn't like to say it. (S3 E3)

Fleet and Clara are partners, but not in the way the average person might assume from that word, which Fleet realises mid-sentence here. This is another instance of Fleet reacting negatively to the idea that their relationship might be interpreted romantically (see above). And yet, 'partner' (rather than, say, ‘colleague’) is the word that comes naturally to him in this moment to describe who Clara is to him. He then frantically emphasises the professional element of their relationship so as to avoid the romantic implication, but Clara is keen to proudly assert that there is a personal, emotional aspect to their dynamic too. They are first-and-foremost partners, and they are friends, and they do not want to be seen in a romantic light - this post basically writes itself... 

“Her ridiculous detective.”

When Clara fears for her life at the display of the Lanterns, the narration tells us:

“she thought of her brother, her sister, her parents... Her ridiculous detective.” (High Vaultage, p172) 

The fact that Clara thinks of Fleet in this moment of fear clearly indicates his importance to her, but I think the phrasing of this quote is particularly interesting. The narration lists Clara's immediate family: two of whom are dead (her sister and father), one of whom is publically mourning Clara's life choices (her mother), and only one of whom we have any real evidence of her having a positive relationship with (her brother). And then, separated from these complicated familial relationships by an ellipsis, the narration tells Clara also thinks of Fleet, “her ridiculous detective”. 

Parents and siblings are familial relationships that tend to come with established expectations, in which the use of a possessive pronoun (i.e. her brother) to indicate the relationship is a norm. ‘Detective’ does not fall into this category; unlike ‘brother’, ‘sister’, ‘parent’, ‘friend’, ‘partner’ etc., ‘detective’ is not a word that inherently implies a relationship or that we'd usually expect to see preceded by a possessive pronoun. The idea of ‘her detective’ therefore stands out, giving the sense that there is a unique relationship being indicated here. The way in which Fleet is ‘hers’ is something that Clara has chosen for herself, something that they have shaped together. Who they are to each other can't necessarily be fully expressed using standard phrases that traditionally describe relationships between people. But Fleet is Clara's detective, of which she only has one, and who she'll think of in the midst of “the screaming of the heavens at the end of the world”.

Fleet is also the only one in this list of Clara's loved ones who gets an adjective - her love for him has detail. And while “ridiculous” might often be perceived as negative (it's certainly not a classic romantic endearment), it seems to me like there's such fondness in it in this context: the recognition of and affection for eccentricities, the idea that his importance to her is not (purely) based on his professional strengths but on Fleet as a whole - perhaps at times ridiculous - person.

“Settled”

When Clara and Fleet talk about Clara's mother’s expectations for her, they have this exchange:

"She's still living in hope that one day I'll settle down."  "You're not settled?" asked Fleet. "I am." (High Vaultage, p259) 

By ‘settle down’, Clara's mother of course means ‘marry’, ideally into “at least a minor baronetcy”. But Clara already considers herself "settled", just not in a way her mother would understand or appreciate. She's not looking to "settle down" into a lifestyle other than her current one. She is settled in a situation where Fleet is certainly her closest personal connection in London (and perhaps anywhere), and where the two of them work closely together, operate as a duo, and then go back to their separate homes. And this partnership with Fleet is a comfortable set-up that feels right for Clara exactly as it is, rather than being a precursor to, or a distraction from, the marriage ambitions that her mother wants for her.

I think this exchange also contains an implicit sense of the commitment between the two of them. Fleet wants to check that Clara is ‘settled’ in her current situation, of which working closely - and platonically - with Fleet is obviously a major element; Clara confirms she is. There's a subtle indication of their shared intention to be in this for the long haul.

As a sidenote, Fleet and Clara’s implicit assumption that their partnership is a long-term one can manifest itself in joking contexts as well as serious ones. Look at this exchange from S3E5: 

FLEET: We're not bandits, we're just going to flag it down. CLARA: We'd be terrific bandits! FLEET: Let's just see how our current line of work goes.

I think it’s notable that, in this joking speculation, both Fleet and Clara use ‘we’ and ‘our’. The joke could have been phrased just as effectively if they were imagining only Clara becoming a bandit. But the suggestion is that, if either of them was a bandit, they’d be bandits together. Even if they changed their lives entirely, they'd still approach life together.

Inseparable 

Fleet and Clara have become a nearly inseparable duo in a way which is noticed by others. For example, after Clara and Fleet fall out in High Vaultage, Fleet meets with Keller, who says: 

"You're here with me instead of barrelling across town with her, so I'm just assuming there is some thickheaded puffinry for which you need to apologise to Miss Entwhistle" (p335)

Keller, hardly the most emotionally perceptive man in Even Greater London, automatically infers from the fact that Fleet is on his own that he has had a falling out with Clara, rather than that they just happen to be in different places. When all is well, Keller expects to see the two of them together, whether or not they are in a position to be actively working a case.

Going back earlier in their partnership, Keller makes a similar assumption about Fleet and Clara being inseparable in S2E6. When Clara shouts her name amidst Keller's anti-Vidoc booby traps, Keller asks "Entwhistle? Which means… Fleet?" Again, there's this idea that if one of them is there, the other is likely to be there too - they come as a pair. (It's worth noting that this scene takes place less than two weeks after they first met.)

“Like a friend might?”

At the end of S3E7, Fleet suggests that he and Clara go to the theatre together. It would have been easy for this invitation to have been explicitly framed as a romantic proposition, or even for the nature of the offer to have been left more ambiguous. But Clara says "Archibald Fleet, are you inviting me to a social activity? Like a friend might?" The use of the word 'friend' directly labels this as a platonic interaction. And it's with that platonic lens on it that Clara is extremely excited to spend non-work-related social time with Fleet.

“Maybe it'll just be my good luck charm.”

CLARA: My grandmother's ring, I don't suppose you managed to hold on to it? [...] FLEET: Oh, it's been crushed.. I'm sorry Clara [...] CLARA: No, you keep it. FLEET: What? No... CLARA: Keep it. Maybe it'll remind you not to run towards trains. FLEET: Maybe. Maybe it'll just be my good luck charm.

In S3E7, Clara gives Fleet a ring, which - as a gift from one person to another - is traditionally a symbol of a particular, legally recognised, kind of personal commitment. But when Clara tells Fleet to keep the damaged ring, down in the Underground tunnels after the destruction of the beast and Fleet's latest brush with death, it is quite a different situation to a wedding or a proposal. A married man would traditionally wear his wedding ring on his finger for all to see, but Fleet won't ever wear this ring like that. The ring itself has been bent into a different shape between the wheels of their misadventures, subverting the usual associations of a ring given from one person to another. (In a heteronormative world, those associations are particularly strong when the two people in question are a woman and a man.) 

That ring is not an engagement ring, but it is Clara’s grandmother's ring, an inheritance from the blood family she never really felt she belonged in, now given to the man who might be a very different kind of family for her in London. That ring - with which Clara saved Fleet's life - is a symbol of their bond. And it therefore serves as a reminder for Fleet “not to run towards trains" and as a “good luck charm”. I like to think he'll carry that ring with him, perhaps in his jacket pocket - a little piece of his partner, kept close to his ticking heart…

Thank you for reading all of this!

If you’ve read all of this, I'm assuming you also enjoy the concept of Fleet and Clara as a QPR (unless you're really a glutton for punishment) and that makes me very happy! This was long because there's so much to say about them… And I wrote all of the above without even getting into: the potential to headcanon Fleet and/or Clara as aspec (which I don't think is necessary for QPR headcanons, but which is also fun); Clara's baggage around and discomfort with marriage in general; the speed with which Fleet and Clara become a ride-or-die duo; and the many other demonstrations of care, understanding, trust, respect, and affection between them that didn't feel as directly QPR-coded to me but are nonetheless wonderful. Please do feel free to share your own thoughts!

[danielnelsen]

there’s so much i wanna do this week/month/etc but i’m just too sick, i have no energy, i can’t sleep, i’m constantly nauseous and headachey and on the verge of a migraine, i’m stressed and irritable and impatient and panicky…….how tf did i survive nearly 5 years of high school untreated if i can’t even manage this when i don’t have any major obligations rn

[skrunksthatwunk]

actually went to all three of my classes and didn't even cry once. EVERYBODY CLAP.

[captainjonnitkessler]

The “broad, sweeping, inflammatory statement of fact that castigates anyone who disagrees with you as a spineless idiot’ to ‘well there’s a lot of conflicting information out there. I don’t know. I’m not qualified to judge, I’m just telling you what I’ve heard” to “well I was given misinformation, so it’s not my fault that I broadcast it out to thousands of my followers without doing so much as a google search which would have immediately revealed it to be false and anyone trying to hold me accountable for that is harassing me” popular tumblr user pipeline

[bsaka7]

weirdly really upset bc my whole family just assumed i would eat a hamburger even though im vegetarian :(

[izzymalec]

just finished lucifer, now all shows i started watching (minus she hulk but fuck that) are finished omg #productivity

[austerulous]

Carwen against Farkas maybe? She's 4'10' :)

[alteredphoenix]

Lv2 kara Cheat datta Motoyuusha Kouho no Mattari Isekai Life...

I remember reading a few chapters of the manga on r/manga about three-four years back, and my memory of it is hazy, so I'm practically going into this blind.

It's a good first episode, other than the last six-seven minutes where the ladies immediately accuse and label Flio of being a predator for simply offering to take Fenrys on an escort quest to the Delaveza Forest via Teleportation, only to play take-backsies not even two minutes later and tell him no can do they're gonna wipe her out because she's actually a demon.

Like, if the accusation was done in a way that hinted to the viewer they were trying not tip the kid off that they were onto her, then the show did a poor job of it and it clearly doesn't go in that direction.

Which is a shame, because you could've had the next episode be about Flio having cute bonding moments with Fenrys, only to get pulled aside by Balirossa and the girls halfway through and be told they're keeping tabs on her because she's soliciting help at a guild she's not registered to and all but signaling she's Dark Army, they know she's lying through her teeth, so that could've added some much-needed tension to the plot. But that's not the story the anime wants to tell, so instead you don't get to know these adventurers that accuse Flio right off the bat (for something they're proven wrong about) and rush from Point A to Point B without any time to let the plot breathe whatsoever.

Here's hoping it recovers from that little stumble, because as an isekai story featuring a God Mode MC there is some potential to it.

[chisungie]

.

[mariahcarreyyy]

congrats on 2k!!! you deserve it and so so much more <3

can i request being overprotective of them in front of prospective partners with max ofc thank u very much -cait/@leclerced

# prompt no.10, being overprotective of them in front of prospective partners

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

It was embarrassing.

Watching two grown men argue over who would drive you home from the lively, neon-lit bar led to a bashful flush, warming your body amidst the crisp darkness of the night.

Only minutes prior, Max had taken one look at you and decided home was where you should be. You didn't make any protests because he's right; you wonder if you looked like a book to Max—pages crinkled, broken spines, and easily read words in his favorite font.

"I can take my fucking girlfriend home, Max," your boyfriend, Scotty, seethes through gritted teeth, an ugly vein bursting on his forehead.

Scotty evidently did not like the idea of Max driving you home for a reason you had no idea of. You and Max had been friends for years, so if even an ounce of your yearning and want was reciprocated, he would've done something by now.

That thought did little to dwindle the stubborn 'what if's from gnawing at your soul, the twinge in your heart whenever you see Max with anyone but yourself.

And also the slight guilt at thinking of another man when you have a perfectly fine one waiting at home for you each night but. Whatever.

"I swear to fucking God if you get into that car with her--"

Eyes widening, you place a calming hand on Max's shoulder and ignore the daggers your boyfriend is glaring at your touch. "Okay, how 'bout we all relax, yeah?"

Max cranes his neck to look at you, his harsh facade melting when he catches sight of the worry etched on your face. Once his heaving turned into steady breathing, your face ducking shyly to look away from his gaze, your boyfriend cleared his throat loudly.

You hastily drop your hand like the Dutch had burned you, and Max lets out a disapproving noise at the loss of your contact. Yeah, Scotty did not look impressed. The murderous glint in his eyes did nothing to quell the uncomfortable atmosphere, his jaw flexing like he's capable of murder, of tearing Max's limbs off and letting the blood spill on the pavement.

"Scotty...to be fair, you did drink, and I don't really feel like dying tonight."

A hand creeps around Max's waist, your fingertips pinching the flesh after you hear him snort. A barely concealed yelp from the driver has Scotty scrunching his nose up in distaste, nostrils flared, and betrayal painted across his face.

You should probably side with your boyfriend, but. But the cool breeze makes the tiny hairs on your arms stand up, teeth chattering; you wrap the thin, barely-there jacket Max gave you at the beginning of the night and roll your eyes, walking to Max's car.

Fondly, Max observes the impatient tapping of your foot and flush on your face—from the cold, he tells himself, not for the same reasons as himself. He raises his brows tauntingly at Scotty before advancing towards your shaky frame.

"Fuckin' bitch," Scotty mutters into the air, lips pursed into a scowl and vodka overriding his senses.

Your ears don't quite grasp the words, but Max's do. So, when the world champion's fist paves the way for the colorful hues of a bruise to bloom on the bridge of your boyfriend's nose, you can't help but choke on a gasp.

authors note. anddddd scotty makes a comeback!!!! tbf in the og fic he was actually portrayed as a good bf. max & reader r js bad ppl. now i dont have to feel bd tho cus he's terrible in this🥰

[delku]

i don't even like, disagree with this person on the (implicit) opinion that the movies could stand to be more plot- and character-centered but you really are going to soup store looking for clothes idk what to tell you. maybe it's time to join the devastated legion of starved idiots seeking those rare crumbs of halfway-decent fanfiction

one of the funnier opinions in that thread (designed for highly controversial opinions, exceedingly few of which escaped milquetoast range) was that the movies only exist as a carrier to deliver fight scenes.

>sees movie listing

>action movie

>looks inside

>majority of runtime is spent on battles

[cat image]

[theemporium]

is it fluff? I don't know?

but charles and r where charles is like "what happened pour moi?"

and r is like "oui, so i had a little too much café on an empty túmmy, so i had a - how do you say - panique attaque."

(tbf I don't know where the monologue is from? I found it on a generator for funny dialogue)

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

When you first started dating Charles, you made a point of wanting to learn his native language.

The only issue was that you would quickly come to realise you were absolutely shit at learning a new language. It didn’t matter if you went to classes, downloaded Duolingo or even bought those little guides with simple and well-used phrases, it just didn’t seem to click to you as easily as it did with others.

But you were still so determined to learn, and it warmed Charles’ heart.

You wanted to be able to talk to him in his mother tongue because it was a beautiful language and you would love to understand what he said when he spoke it. You wanted to be able to talk to his family when they make such an effort to talk to you in English. And even if it was maybe too soon to think about such, you knew you wanted your children to be able to speak their father’s language too. 

You were determined, so you made a deal with Charles. 

You had your French days.

These would be days where you would wake up and set the goal of speaking French all day, or as much as you could. Charles would only talk to you in French, and he would be there to help you with any words and phrases you didn’t know. It was supposed to be a simple exercise that helped you immerse yourself in the language and push your boundaries to help further your knowledge. 

It would just be random days where you would turn to Charles in the morning and inform him of as much, just stating ‘it’s a French day’ before going on with your morning routine.

Today was one of those days. 

Except, when you had woken up with a pit in your stomach, you chose to ignore it. You had days where you woke up feeling a little fuzzy, a little on edge, a little anxious. You tried to have more relaxed itineraries on those days if you could, and that was exactly what you should have done today. But for some stupid reason, you thought you could push through it.

However, pushing through it meant that you were barely unable to stomach any food, let alone have the appetite to eat. It meant that you were constantly feeling as though you were about to tip over the edge. And it meant you should have stayed far, far away from coffee when your heart was already about to beat out of your chest. 

But Charles had brought you a coffee back after his morning run, and you didn’t have the heart to say anything.

And first, it just felt like palpitations. You thought it would come and pass, and you’d be in the clear to just take a chill day. 

But your heart was only speeding up, and the nausea was undeniable. Your chest felt tight with panic as you pressed the heel of your palm against your chest, hoping it would do something to ease the feeling but it didn’t.

Your breathing became erratic and shaky, your whole body felt like it was vibrating and you were pretty sure your head was underwater with how muffled your hearing was.

And your poor boyfriend was absolutely baffled. 

“Amour? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?”

You let out some choked noise, your brain feeling far too fuzzy to even try muttering up a response to Charles, let alone in French.

“Amour? Baby? Are you okay? What’s wrong? What’s happening?” His words became more frantic as he quickly made his way over to you, his hands on your shoulder as he tried to catch your gaze. 

“I—” You let out a slightly garbled noise before giving him a sheepish smile. It was stupid to try and continue the French day tradition, but even in your state, you tried. Even if your attempt was just speaking mostly in English with a botched French accent. “I am having—uh, une panique attaque!”

Charles’ eyes widened comically large. “I—fuck the French!” 

Your smile was shaky. “I already kinda do.”

His lips parted in surprise before he quickly shook his head. “Baby, no, let’s…just…sit down, please. I’m going to get you water. And something to eat. You’ve hardly touched any of the pastries I brought.”

You listened to his demands, taking a seat on the plush living room couch as your boyfriend ran around like a madman to get anything that would make you feel better.

It wasn’t until over an hour later after you had drank what felt like all the water in the Monaco Pier and consumed enough croissants for a lifetime where you finally felt the tight feeling in your chest ease and your heart rate drop to a normal level. You were still on the couch, now cuddled with your back pressed against his chest as he held you tightly.

“I’m sorry for ruining French day,” you murmured to your boyfriend.

Charles only scoffed. “Baby, please. Your health is more important than French day.”

You paused for a moment before continuing. “I’m also sorry for basically calling you French.”

“Yeah, that I’m not forgiving,” Charles grumbled, but you could hear the smile on his face even if you couldn’t see it. “I think it counts as a hate crime.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are théâtral.” 

Charles grinned as he pecked your cheek. “Good word, baby, where did you learn that one?”

“Arthur.” 

“Fucking Arthur.”

.

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Kung Fu Panda 4 Review

Ok, I saw the movie yesterday and I have some thoughts. I think the film is good, but no where near the level of the first two. It's more like the third tonally. But tbf, nothing can top the second film in my opinion. KFP 2 really stepped up in its depth both in terms of its villain and message. The fourth film is very much the opposite. It's also very predictable and you can easily figure out what was gonna happen pretty early on.

What I liked: the animation is still gorgeous. Seriously, there were some very visually pleasing shots. The character models all looked great and I thought it was cool how the villain still has scales when she transforms. The music is also really nice and fun to listen to. The voice acting was also good and I thought Awkafina did a good job (major step up from Scuttle).

Po's dads were also really fun when on screen. It's nice to see them bond over Po and they do work well off of each other. They were the best part of the film, animation aside. The villain is also pretty cool with her abilities. We will talk about her more in a bit. And I did like Zhen and I'm looking forward to see what they do with her in the future. She's energetic and I did like her design.

What I didn't like: too. much. comedy. Ok look, I know this is an animated film for kids, but what made the first three films (particularly the second one) so good is that the balanced the jokes with depth. This film does have some messages, but it's intercut with so many jokes during dialogue that it takes away from it. They really needed to let this film breathe and have more serious moments to just talk and let things sink in. The villain brought back the old villains and stole their abilities (this was in trailer so not really spoiler). Why don't they do more with that? There is so much untapped potential here.

And that's my other big issue with the film: so much potential. Some of the ideas in this film are really, really good, but they only scratch the surface with it. I wanted to know more about the villain. I wanted to see our fave villains interact more. I wanted to see the villain use her powers more. But we don't get that; we only get the bare minimum. In simpler terms, there's no big "wow!" moment that the other films had.

Spoilers below (tread carefully)

Why did they bring the villains back if they were going to do almost nothing with them? The climax of the film was the Chameleon stealing the villains' abilities and fighting Po but we pretty much saw that in the trailer. Tai Lung gets to do some stuff, but I wanted more. Half of his lines were jokes anyway and I didn't vibe with it. Why did they bring him back if he was just gonna comment on things? I don't remember our favorite snow leopard being this comical. He did quip, but there was still a hardened edge to him. Idk. Maybe he got therapy in the spirit realm. Shen and Kai get crumbs, but again, they could've done so much more. And wasn't Kai destroyed completely?

With Shen and Tai Lung, I would've wanted to see more. I'm glad Tai Lung did finally come to respect Po and it does make sense. But Shen? The last time we saw him he rejected Po's help. Unless he too got the same spirit realm therapy Tai Lung did, him bowing to Po does feel very OOC. Nitpicking further, why was Shen brought back anyway? The Chameleon presumably doesn't know who Po is and Shen isn't a kung fu master. With the exception of the fanservice route, this choice only makes sense if the Chameleon was aware of Shen's actions in Gongmen and thought his level of evil would fit her vibe.

Nitpicking aside, there was so much opportunity for Po to confront his villains again and have a deep, serious moment with them. Whether either side likes it or not, they're reunited for a short amount of time. Why not capitalize on this great opportunity?

Speaking of the villain, so much untapped potential. Her design is great, her abilities are really cool, and Viola Davis does a good job voicing her. So why doesn't she get to do more? Imagine a really cool fight sequence where Po confronts her, but she shifts so much that it begins to mess with his head. Or she transforms into the older villains and Po is caught off guard? Instead, we get half the climax spoiled for us in the trailer. What was really cool about the other three was that we got multiple fight scenes with them to showcase their abilities. Thus, the final battle dialed it up to an 11 and we got a truly epic finale. Here, it feels like there should've been more, but there wasn't. Even her backstory feels lacking. It's there... but only surface level. Even Shen, arguably the cruelest of them all, had nuance and depth.

Also, why couldn't we get more of the Furious Five outside of a glorified cameo? Tigress and Po friendship is truly amazing.

As much as the jokes miss, there are some good bits. Shifu trying to deal with Po's shenanigans always crack me up. I also like the bit where Po tries to meditate and his thoughts get in the way. Because hey guess what, that's what my head is like and it's really freaking hard to quiet it down. So, there's that. I just wish the writers didn't feel like they had to insert jokes in almost every line of dialogue, you know? Li and Ping dad adventures are great except half the lines are jokes about how worried they are for Po or how not tough they are. Why not have a deeper conversation? I think it would make everything feel more natural.

I also wish Po himself was a tad more mature. I'm not expecting Shifu or Tigress levels of seriousness, but I felt that he kinda was a bit too childish. Po is one of those characters who loves to have fun, but knows when he has to be serious. However, he also likes to lighten things up with comedy. In this movie, it felt like he only really leaned into the comedy side of things. He had his moments, but I'll be honest, I really missed the "the only thing that matters is what you choose to be now" levels of dialogue. The proverb joke got old real fast, ok?

Grace Randolph from Beyond the Trailer described this movie as episodic and I can see it. The story bits are very segmented between the villain, heroes, and Po's dads. The flow and pacing of this film really needed to be upgraded.

Ok, that's all I got for now. I'm sure I'll think of something else to say (aside from encouraging everyone to rewatch KFP 2 because I'll never get enough of that film).

[jolalibrary]

rainy world, blanket days

frankie morales x f!reader

summary: “Yourewet.” It escapes, muffled between your mouths, as he smiles against your lips. “It’s raining, amor.” 

wordcount: 1.8k an: written for anon, with a huge thanks and dedication to @thelightsandtheroses who let me ramble a lot to her, without complaint. and sorta told me i could do this, even when i didn't think i could. warnings: none. just sweet!frankie, soft vibes, nice ending (real cute, tbf)

When it rains, it pours. 

A sentiment he knows all too well with how his day has been going. 

You and your grand ideas, where simple DIY soon gets out of hand: first, a photo frame, then the guest sink, and now he’s retrieving shelving because you need more space for your books. 

Frankie doesn’t mind. Not really. 

He likes being busy—likes making you smile and how it always hits your eyes and coats him in a warmth that no winter can ever take from him. 

When he'd left, there had been sunshine. By the time he pulls into the car park, the clouds have grown grey and heavy, fingers tugging to pull his collar around his neck to fend off the wind. Hat tugged down, hiding, as he saunters around aisle after aisle, an image in mind of what he wants—what he needs. 

He clambers it all together. Some under his arm, some lodged against his chest, hugged there by his arm. Somewhat wishing he hadn’t been so quick to turn down a bag. All to step out of the automatic doors and be met with a downpour. 

The kind that soaks everything it touches and makes the air smell of petrichor, all fresh earth and mire. A scent which could so easily take him back to jungles and covert missions if not for the way he gripped the wood until splinters threatened to dig into his hands. 

He’s been better recently—more rooted. Finding himself less troubled and minus the haunting of ghosts. 

But, sometimes, they hang in the background. The memories that become nightmares, waiting for a weaker moment to suffocate him. 

You fend them off—doing so without trying. 

You and the smile he thinks of as he throws everything in the truck, slamming the driver door behind him as droplets fall down his neck, sliding from the ends of his curls to run down and settle on his collarbone. 

Palm across his forehead, wiping the beads from his brow as he removes his hat—the one soaked to the bone. He knows it’ll take hours to dry, trying to hang it off the passenger headrest as he wrestles with how naked he feels without it. 

You like it off. 

Often whispering it to him, having done so the other night when you were straddling his lap, pushing it back, taking it in your fingers before placing it backwards on your head. 

“Do I suit it, Frankie? Your hat.” 

He wished he’d taken a photo, made it his background. 

You in his oversized shirt, a pair of boxers turned shorts, and his hat on your pretty little head. The thought alone sparks warmth through his chest, suddenly turning the key more eager, more determined. 

Desperate.  

That’s what he was: desperate. To see you, get home to you. 

The work-in-progress which changes month by month before their eyes as vision and his handiwork being it to life. 

He likes working on it, your two's home. But sometimes, in weather like this, he wishes for blankets and candles, no lights—just the flicker of a movie he’ll pretend to watch for the first act before he silently studies you. 

Or music, soft, lulling music that floats around the walls. The occasional raps of the branches from the tree on the window, the one you refuse to have Frankie cut down. 

He craves one today, never really being one for lazy days, but now it’s those days he loves the most with you. The ones which are easy, a gift. They come along infrequently, but when they do, he tries to clutch on to them too tightly—in the same way, he likes to have you close. 

Whether it’s bare legs thrown over his thighs, fluffy socks twitching under the blanket, or you slotted against his side, hand playing with his fingers as his lips twitch into a smile periodically. 

It’s those memories, that wish, that carries him home. The car windows steam up under the clamminess of his skin, the radio humming songs he barely listens to when he finally swings his truck on the drive. Forgetting the items beside him, including his hat, as he steps out, not even doubling back when he presses the key to lock it—just desperate to get inside, and when he does…

It’s all he’s been wishing for and more. 

The scent of a burning wick hits him first, followed by hot cocoa. Shutting the front door, locking it—and keeping the world out—he slides his feet from his boots, leaving them in a state on the mat. Then he begins his hunt for you, fingers brushing down doorways, leaning into the kitchen, and then the living room.

Frankie frowns as his fingers scratch at his damp hair. Something akin to worry begins to needle at his chest, making his heart stammer—rattling in his chest. 

His next stop, the only one truly left, catches his eye as droplets fall from his jacket, painting the wooden floor in dots from the outside. The door, all half-open and ajar, as it had been this morning when he’d followed you out of it, sleep clinging to his lashes as you excitedly talked about decor and needing his help. 

Now, he worries he didn’t lock the door. That something had happened. Not even remembering the last time he checked his phone or—

You collide into him suddenly, all quickly. 

In a way that forces all of the pieces of him to slot back together, making the worry dissipate. Your grin growing at the sight of him, hitting your eyes as you begin to beam as though he’s your sun and not just a man you met one day and never got rid of. 

He thinks of speaking, whispering a hi and then pulling you close, but he gets tangled up—thoughts balling and knotting in his head at the sight of you. 

You look so comfortable and relaxed, your face clean and free of anything—one of his tees adorning your frame, hiding your curves from him. 

There’s something about seeing you undone that he'll never grow used to. How at ease around him you are, have been since early days. It’s almost his favourite sight, taking it over summer dresses and painted lips—almost. 

Frankie’s favourite has more to do with when your lips are parted, thighs on either side of him—pupils blown, skin warm, sweat pebbling on your hairline and collarbones. You make the prettiest noises then, too—an array of Francisco’s and Frankie’s pecking the air. 

Your eyes are narrowing, confusion mounting at his stare and empty hands. He knows you—about as well as you know him. 

Frankie knows that you’re beginning to worry with how your brow slides up your forehead, that concern-laced words will fall from your tongue as your mouth starts to part. But he moves, pounces, rids the air of comments that aren’t please and more. 

Slanting his lips over yours, he steals your thoughts. Intentionally, his tongue licks into your mouth to wipe up the remainder of any words that had been forming. It’s only as he nips at your bottom lip, tasting the whimper you let him have, is he aware of your arms coming around his neck, feels fingers scrape against his hair, his scalp—

“Yourewet.”

It escapes, muffled between your mouths, as he smiles against your lips. “It’s raining, amor.” 

Frankie slides his fingers across your cheek, keeping you close, letting him take his time to kiss you, enjoy you. His other hand is busy sliding up your frame—fingers brushing the overwashed, seen-better-days t-shirt of his that you love—all to find purpose on your hip. Wishing to grip it, his thumb digging ever so lightly—not enough to bruise, although he could (enjoys doing so, too), but enough to inform you what he wants. 

You. Always you. 

Rainy days and sunny ones. The difficult ones and the easy ones. 

“Frankie…” 

He kisses the side of your mouth, humming—indicative that he’s heard you. 

“I’ve got the blankets out. Queued a movie and—“

“Lit the candles,” he finishes, one last kiss to your jaw before he retracts, letting you go to look you up and down as he folds his arms, leaning against the doorframe. 

The silence allows the sound of rain hammering against the window panes to find his ears—doing so to a beat similar to how his heart thumps at the sight of you. The way it has done since he woke up one morning and couldn’t get the thought from his mind: 

I want to marry you. 

He’s been thinking about it for weeks, months.

Moments adding to other ones, collecting them like stamps. Letting them layer and layer—

You drag him from his thoughts, shifting on the balls of your feet, an unreadable expression flushing out the one he’d put there a moment ago. “Is that… okay?” 

He nods, slow at first before a grin accompanies it. You pull it from him easily, and do so all the time—a thing the others have noticed. 

“All I was thinking about at the hardware store.” 

“You were thinking about a blanket day?” 

His lip twitches. “Thinking about you under a blanket, yeah.” 

You try to hold it back, but you smirk. Eyes latched on him as he shrugs his jacket off, your hand gesturing to take it from him, pulling it close to you. 

“I’ll let you pick the movie,” you say, moving past him, holding his eye line as your hand brushes his chest, taking his jacket with you. “And I’ll hang this up to dry.” 

He smirks knowingly. 

Because you only let him choose when you have no intention of watching it. 

“I’ma just change,” he calls out, heading into the bedroom—passing the mirror, the wardrobe. Shifting around the end of the bed as he hovers near the bedside table. 

Letting his fingers find the handle, he pulls on the top drawer, glancing at the door. Nervousness prickles, mixes with the drizzle sliding down his spine, as he opens it, peering in. 

At first, he sees nothing, and then just the corner of it. 

Just how he left it, smothered in clean, holey socks and receipts—the blue box which stares up at him. All 4.7 x 3.9 of it. 

The one which had been heavy in his pocket the day he picked it up to bring it home. How it began burning a hole in his jacket until he hid it, stuffing it in the back of the nook for the right day. 

Today though, he lets his fingers pull it out from the corner it’s been trapped in. Feeling how light it actually is, for the weight it has on his shoulders. 

“Frankie, y'coming?”

He smiles, both at the box in his fingers and your impatience. Nudging the drawer shut with his knuckle, a scar catching his sight—one you always stroke, never asking, yet reading the story behind it with each touch.

He calls back that he’ll be a minute, placing the box on the bed, opening other drawers and slamming them shut once he'd found sweats and a fresh tee. Dressing, he feels the warmth slide up his neck, reaching his ears as his pulse thunders.

Having decided today will be the day the ring finds a new home—hopefully, one on your finger. 

an: hope this was fluffy enough, anon.

[hella1975]

IM SO MAD

GETTING MY NAILS DONE 🫶🏼

[bonefall]

So I decided to read through Bramblestar's leader ceremony from the original Ultimate Guide today- and I had a thought: have you chosen what cats give him his lives in Better Bones already? Granted, I'm sure you'll gut some of the canon placements for not knowing him in life (Lionheart) or being alive by the time he becomes leader (Goldenflower, Ferncloud, Mousefur) but Bluestar imparting clear judgement is a fun virtue considering his actions are anything but. Plus, Jayfeather could always gripe about it when he argues with Bramblestar. 'Wow Bramblestar, you sure displayed clear judgement when you asked me to let Sunrise BLEED OUT IN CAMP!'

I hadn't picked yet actually! I also haven't read his leader ceremony in aaaages. I never really liked it, felt full of TPB fanservice and didn't really say a lot about Bramblestar as a leader.

(But tbf that is probably because the writers have no idea what they're doing with him. He's generically noble and they have a double standard against female characters, so they just use his man pain to make the girls in his life feel wretched without examining WHY having defiant women in his life bruises his ego so easily)

But anyway, I don't have a FINALIZED thing yet, but here's a rough draft. It's a total overhaul. A big difference in BB and Canon is that Bramblestar is leader BEFORE the reveal, and long before the Battle of the True Eclipse. So all of these picks have to be from Po3 and before.

(BB context: Firestar was killed offscreen during the Fire Scene in an assassination, Ashfur took advantage of the situation to attack the Three. It was an arson set by Whiskernose and carried out by Thornclaw, Breezepelt, and possibly Harespring. Ashfur is still on the run, suspected of killing Firestar to hurt Squilf because he failed to hurt her kits)

(also if you want FULL full context go look at BB!Hollyleaf's character summary)

Gorseclaw -- Righteousness. His progenitor ancestor who set history into motion by betraying his siblings during Ripplestar's Rot, and whose curse continues down through the generations. He tells him he's proud. He SEES how much he's struggled. He's had to make hard choices that everyone else thought would be easy, and he understands. But he's done the right thing... and he tells him to keep doing it. Bramble briefly feels hot with shame-- did he really have so many ancestors in the Dark Forest that he had to hear from someone so ancient? Tigerstar, Pinestar, Oakstar... this life unsettles him and sets the tone for the rest of the ceremony

Snowcarve (Snowkit) -- Opportunity. The last time Brambleclaw saw his little uncle, he was carried off by a hawk after shoving one of them out of the way. He stands as a proud, starry adult before him: the age he would have been. He "speaks" through unfamiliar glyphs that form beside his head, and Brambleclaw knows somehow that this is the writing that he had been working on before his death. Snowcarve commands that he watch for that which he would have missed, to listen to those who are different and have new ideas, for opportunity is silent and tender. If your mind and heart are closed to what could have been, you will miss your chance and never know what you could have had. Brambleclaw tries to bring up that he's sorry he didn't save him-- Snowcarve taps his ear and shakes his head, giving him a stern glare. The words say, "you did not need forgiveness. It was my choice and I have never regretted it." In fact, he can wave his tail and welcome the next life;

Yellowfang -- Judgement. She asks him, "Would you ever blame a kitten for what someone else did?" Bramble is confused, "Of course not?" "Then stop blaming yourself for what others have done for you. I ran back into that fire to save my herbs and leeches. I put myself there, and Firestar knew that. Stop confusing blame for experience, guilt is not wisdom, pain is not good judgement."

Feathertail -- Kindness. A little bit of understanding goes a long way. When you get wrapped up in your anger, or your fear, slow down and consider the feelings and intentions of others. You'll find that most people are good. (He accepts the life but stops himself from arguing with her-- ok, sure, but what about everyone who isn't? He has a bit of a thought spiral wondering if the wise cat he'd travelled with had changed or if she was ever wise at all)

(Idk which elder is dying in Po3 yet, if it's Frostfur or Mousefur, but one of them gives a life) -- Confidence. There was a time where their own judgement lapsed, and they pinned their anger on him. They apologize for it, and tell him that this life is for living in spite of that. The strength to mind that you can't control what other people think of you, and the firmness to commit to what he believes is right.

Brackenfur -- Negotiation. To remember that every action sends a message, to understand that you must remain calm and make the right concessions to accomplish greater things. Don't let emotions like anger, offense, and spite cause you to ruin something you may have worked hard to build. (Brambleclaw is by the halfway point totally missing the point that these cats are trying to teach him nuance and mindfulness, and mostly feels betrayed and confused. He knows most of these things... and did the elder not just tell him to have confidence in himself in spite of people who hate him?)

Speckletail -- Courage. When everyone runs away, you run TOWARDS. People will rely on you now, and StarClan will give you the power to protect them. No storm, no beast, and no tyrant will find its way through you. When he takes the life he feels the rage and FEAR she did when she ran towards the bulldozer, the pride in her power as she attacked the human, and learns that Thornclaw was wrong when he told them she looked satisfied on the way down. After kicking him out she was terrified, but overwhelmed by relief and LOVE that her grandson was safe. It makes him collapse, and as he gets back up he's in tears, asking "i thought this was a life for courage, you were afraid!!" And Speckletail puffs her chest up proudly, "Courage is being terrified and doing it anyway."

Swiftpaw -- Acceptance. He has no warrior name. He has no adult form. When Brambleclaw asks him for his title, he simply says, "I give you this life to know when to accept what you cannot change, and the wisdom to see what you can't control." Brambleclaw can't help himself, this ceremony has been a horrible experience, "what a terrible life!" Swiftpaw dips his head solemnly, "yet without it, what a terrible death." But Swiftpaw also reminds him, this is not a part of his life that he cannot change. He can move on with only eight lives, and he will understand. But Brambleclaw says no, "I have a clan to protect. This is one of the things I can't control." He is surprised by how soothing the life is when he gets it though. He doesn't feel any of Swiftpaw's pain as he died. It's not about that. It's the quiet embrace of the void, the shouting as the patrol finds him and Brightpaw, falling away into silence, accepting that he is dying, and that it's okay to let go.

Firestar -- Trust. It HAS to come at the end.

Firestar opens up by asking Brambleclaw what's wrong, seeing how exhausted he is. He responds, his voice trembling, "I hoped it would be reassuring, but I feel more lost and powerless than ever. How can I be responsible for so many people? How will I protect them all? I will be blamed for everything that goes wrong and never know if I made the right choice!" Firestar goes hm, genuinely and sympthetically, "Those are very heavy and legitimate doubts for a new leader to have. I felt the same things when I was in your paws. He waves his tail, "So, I will give you the value that it took me many years to learn, something you were not given and so feel you cannot give. With this life I give you TRUST. You will face many trials in the near future, Brambleclaw. Your truth will crumble. Secrets will be revealed, friends will turn out to be foes, those you think are enemies may be allies, but you must not lose the ability to find the good in all of them. Remember that trust is a choice and an honor. Apply it wisely, but bestow it generously."

Bitterly, but with what dignity he can have in this situation, Bramblestar murmurs sadly, "So there will be betrayal, but I must still trust? I had hoped that you, of all ancestors, would not speak in riddles"

Though the world is blurring and the spirits of StarClan are fading away, he catches something pained and complex in Firestar's expression. Like he has so much to say, doesn't have the exact words to express it, and he's running out of time to find them.

"There were no riddles," he shouts already sounding far away, "Listen to what we have told you and you will find the way!"

(Basically he's shouting "WE WERE VERY STRAIGHTFORWARD ACTUALLY!!!")

We wouldn't get to see this happen in Cruel Season though, since it would be offscreen and not important to the plot of that book. I'd rather get it into Bramblestar's Thorns, which is about Alderheart, Sparkpelt, and the ways that they've been impacted by him as a toxic father.

The ceremony is written to highlight his major flaws. Especially the way that he's bursting with doubt, pain, and immediately tends to make things about himself without realizing. Bramblestar is a very unhappy person, and he often extends that misery to other people.

he's a tragedy to me, man. All these people turning out to tell him that love and faith exists for him and he can't even see it.

Anyway, bonus, some other thoughts for possible lives; (still possible some of these guys get swapped out)

Lionheart, his uncle, who died before he was born. He'd give a good life for wisdom but I think these others are a lot stronger.

Birchface, one of his Tigerkin ancestors in StarClan. Decided against him in favor of Gorseclaw; I think Gorse's both more interesting AND his distance is a good point of doubt for Bramble. They had to go back 4 generations to find a direct ancestor who isn't damned to hell. Birch would have just waffled about admitting mistakes anyway, still too fearful to admit that he is responsible for getting Frecklewish and Oakstar damned.

Bluestar, a leader who contributed to the death of his brother and mistrusted him when he was young... but honestly I feel she is kinda irrelevant. He didn't know her well.

Elderberry, one of his apprenticehood friends and the twin of Ferncloud/older sister of Ashfur. It could be cool for her to give a life of mercy and ask him to be rational about Ashfur's crimes (starclan won't say outright that Ashfur didn't do it because they're not entirely sure he was uninvolved until after his death in a few chapters, Dark Forest influence hiding the assassins), but it's actually a lot more important that StarClan is trying to warn him about the LEADER he will be and fatal flaws he will display for arcs and arcs, not waste a life on teasing the plot of a single book.

Cinderpelt, his cousin who died tragically. There's no reincarnation thing so she could be here to give a life, but I think the current list is a lot stronger.

Lynxkit, his oldest sister. Strongly considered her for acceptance but I think Swiftpaw's WAAAY stronger and I don't need both of them.