#I don’t personally LOVE the idea that sy as a character is the fix all for every Binghe

[hallwyeoo]

Bingge is such a child. He’s so reactive and angry and he chases after things he THINKS will make him happy, instead of actually resolving his issues. He’s unable to take criticism, constantly writhing and clawing for love, but refuses to make himself better for other people. He refuses to trust and genuinely connect with others and then he acts all scorned and wronged when no one actually likes him. Someone give him a Shen Yuan but also is that fair to Shen Yuan??? Does someone have to allow themselves to suffer disrespect and abuse to alleviate his pain??? Do they have to let him be increasingly horrible to them to “test” their love or whatever?? Luo Bingge wants love, but thinks that love is only attainable with power. He refuses to be vulnerable. God I love him but he’s so fucked up. Him and Shen Jiu are the same. They’re so different. They both deserved better. They both suffered.

[honestsycrets]

What She Really Wants X: What Really Matters

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | hvitserk has a way of getting what he wants. magnus is sick of being one-upped.

❛  tags | verbal arguments, wedding oriented, referenced underage sex, referenced sexual interaction, underage relationships, original characters.

❛ sy’s notes | i've actually had this fic done for some months and totally forgot about it until i was in my drive. thank you @chibisgotovalhalla​ for making me feel good enough to post this. It’s more a connecting chapter.

What Magnus hates about Hvitserk (aside from everything) is how whatever he said, went with you. 

The world could crumble, pebbles could shake boulders on your house, and you would still have Hvitserk on your mind. Because he was your first-- and no one could beat a first. No matter how he worked or raged for a new beginning or for better for Mads. It was still Hvitserk at the end of the day. Mads’s eyes had almost popped out of his skull when Magnus joined the clustered group of friends and parents. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

“What did I miss?” he asks because he knows Mads by the expression slapped over his face. That boy has been like his son. He raised him. Loved him. 

“Nothing,” Mads quips quickly, snapping his head back around to the field. His coach howls something long and loud. Mads jabs his finger in that direction. “The game is about to start. C’mon Soren.” 

Despite the fact that Magnus knew there was a certain something very wrong, he didn’t speak as you returned to a very familiar set of bleachers alongside Mad’s new girlfriend. She was pretty. There was a soft and innocent glitter behind those big brown eyes that reminds him of a simpler time in yours. He makes a note to ask Mads after the game all about her when Hvitserk stops on the uppermost stair, guiding you in after Alaia. 

It’s not until they sit, and your hand is laced in Hvitserk’s, does he notice the gems glistening on your finger. 

“What’s that?” he asks, leaning over Alaia’s lap. The girl squints at the rings too, watching it glisten, and smiles when she realizes that she’s forgotten to say something. She speak words that make his stomach drop. As if someone had hauled him off to sea, strapped that very same boulder shook loose by his crumbling world, and threw him out into the deep sea. He was drowning and couldn’t find a way out.

“Oh my god! Congratulations on your engagement, mama,” she beams. “Can I see the ring?” 

Magnus sputters. He’s caught between your jovial smile and Hvitserk’s smug smirk as his eyes burned into the glittering gem. Hvitserk’s hand leaves yours, taking a drink of the metal tumbler that he brought with him as if that would draw attention away from what he’s done this time. 

“There’s two?” Alaia asks.”Papa you didn’t. You’ve gone so far!”

Hviserk chuckles and swashing alcohol between his cheeks before swallowing the spicy liquid. 

“We were engaged in high school. Hvitserk thought I should wear both.” 

“Gonna put that money to use,” Hvitserk mutters, the faint scent of yeasty alcohol on his breath kissing your cheeks. He looks out to the field and catches Mads sheepishly waving. He waves back. “Been waitin’ to get married to my old lady for years.” 

“It’s going to be so great,” she claps her hands together. “I’m happy for you.”

The field cheers through the end of the national anthem. Two dozen players jog onto the grassy stage, flicking the ball between their feet. Go Mads, go! Alaia squeals until her voice becomes high pitched, grating, and odd. She’s the kind of girl that should be on a cheerleading team, but belongs on the football team. She’s outgoing, witty, and you find you like her. 

For all that screaming, Mads’s team loses 2 to 1. Alaia beats you off the bleachers and zooms down the stairs to find your son. You’re stuck with the impending explosion that has been boiling to ahead all evening. It finally overflows as people filter out of the bleachers like a herd of stampeding cattle. Their loud chatter blocks out the bulk of conversation. 

“You really thought that was a good idea.” Magnus curls his fingers under the cold metal of the bleacher seat. “He hasn’t been back a year and you’re already going to marry him.” 

“What is with you? It is her choice,” Hvitserk interjects. 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” 

“Fuck off, rat faced motherfucker.” Hvitserk snaps. “You don’t know when to quit bitchin’.”

It’s spiraling. You know the men well enough to know when Magnus and Hvitserk are headed for trouble. Hvitserk loves a good fight. He lurches up in his seat, probably ready to chuck him down a few flights of bleacher stairs. You grasp Hvitserk’s hand, settling it on your thigh for to restrain him from doing something that you knew he’d regret. Not for his sake, but Mads. Rather than answer Magnus, you stand up and wipe your skirt down. 

“Mads is waiting. C’mon baby.”

You leave him feeling unheard. In the seventeen years that Mads had been alive, he’d not once felt this way. He had been the father figure here. The one who took the kid out to these father events that you lost with the death of your father and the disappearance of your family from Hvitserk’s clutches.

Then he came back. He gave Magnus that same, age-old shit-eating grin, and disappeared behind you. It wouldn’t have burned so much if he wasn’t at the exact same school of the past. The same one where he got his teeth knocked in-- right here. The bleachers may be different but the area is the same. It’s the same place where everything changed. He sits there long after you’ve disappeared down the steps to meet your son.

“Where’s morbror?” Mads, sweaty and panting, has his hand slung over Alaia’s shoulder.”I thought he was coming for burgers.”

You reach for Hvitserk’s hand and lace his fingers with yours. Hvitserk stands behind you with his hand latched neatly around your waist. He cradles your hip as you come up with the latest of poorly formulated excuses. 

“He has to go to work in the morning, baby.”

Better you lie than Hvitserk. 

 Alaia is way too touchy. 

You recognize it in the way she clings to his arm on one hand and punches him with the other. Whatever the cost was, she had to be touching him. All over him. Not just a little friendly kiss or holding hands, but you know for a damn fact that she strokes his thigh or trails up the taut pale muscles of his flat belly.

“They’re fucking,” you say pointedly. 

Hvitserk throws a look over his shoulder to where they were a few rows down. Alaia slips a salty-sweet strawberry candy between Mads’s lips. Alaia’s other hand is certainly not on her own lap, that’s for sure. 

“Huh?” Hvit says around a half eaten sausage. He takes a swig of his booze, “Ya think?”

You thwack him in the arm and glance at the dark aisle beside you. The movie Mads wanted to watch was old. So much so that the theatre reflected its age. “How is he not fucking her? Hvitserk!”

Hvitserk took a glance down. From what he could tell, Mads was the shy one. He glanced down to what had to be a handsy— because he had plenty of those in his day. 

“Calm down. He ain’t initiating anything.”

“So she’s a predator?” You hiss. 

“C’mon baby, they're the same age.” He says, as if that’s exclusionary, and as if that made any difference in the world. “Ain’t like he’s screamin’ for help.”

There’s a shush— the next few aisles down. 

“Aw, you poutin?” 

No reply. Hvitserk glances toward Mads and Alaia, content with his choice, and slips his hand underneath the lip of your skirt. He considers himself a rather patient man but your worries when all he wanted to do was relax? Na. 

“Hvit stop— We used to be like that. Remember?” Hvitserk cuts you off, rubbing his thumb where he shouldn’t, cutting an outrageous smile. 

“This isn’t about us.”

“Ain’t it?” 

It’s not. The soft tingles of his fingertips, caressing your thighs, runs shivers up your spine. Your hand falls on top of his wrist, holding him firmly where he was. Hvitserk glances down toward his hand, then back up. An easy fix: you loved it when he pressed his lips to your neck. 

“You’re doing it again.” 

Hvitserk’s lips part, broadening his shit eating smile. “Doing what?” 

Oh, he knew what. But he loved being called out for it.

His far isn’t bad at football.

“Fuckin’ what the fuck was that!” 

The ball whizzed into the goal behind him and Mads was left wheezing for breath. Not because he was tired. The old man might only be thirty-six but he sucked at playing against him. Hvitserk plucked up the football between his fingers and spun it over and over between his finger tips. He twisted his head from the goal to the ball in his hands.

“A goal,” Mads gestures. “You know? Or, guess you don’t since you ain’t scored all night.” 

“Shits rigged,” Hvitserk says, dropping the ball and kicking it back to Mads. 

Mads shrugs and suggests, “Should’ve picked something you’re good at. You won’t beat me at this.”

“Tch,” Hvitserk throws his arms behind his head. “I ain’ good at shit.”  

Except maybe selling drugs and chasing prostitutes. All of which his father has made exponentially clear he doesn’t want Mads doing. Mads stops with his sneaker on top of the ball, rolling it up and back, then flicks it between his feet. 

“Have to be good at something. Don’t you have a hobby or something?” 

Hvitserk peels off his white shirt sodden with sweat and uses it to wipe away the moist sweat dribbling past his eyebrow. He gestures his hand to the dark wooden wedding band that was strapped to his finger. The wedding is next week and while he’s not technically married yet, Hvitserk wore it as some sort of unspoken promise.

“My hobby was women. Not allowed to do that shit anymore. Getting married next week, yeah?” 

“Wow, well, uh.” Mads picks up the ball at his feet and searches for words. It’s always nice-- when your own son is amazed at how amazingly shitty of a person you were. Hvitserk chews his cheek, running his thumb along the drawstring at his hips to tighten it up. They walk lazily with one another to start the trek back home. 

“I...” Hvitserk starts. “Liked to paint.”

“Gang signs?” he teases. He imagines his father with a can of spray paint or something-- tagging some poor idiot’s unsuspecting business. 

“Na, women-- like Renoir.” 

“Ren who?” 

“I fuckin’ hope ya ain’t going to France like that,” he tsks his tongue, throwing his hand around Mads’s shoulder, chasing away the thought of the Wolves that were so at the forefront of his mind. “Take a class in French first.” 

“I’m taking Spanish.” 

“Spanish? Wha’s so important about-- oh wait. Fuck,” Hvitserk almost laughs, but it comes with the realization that Mads’s little girlfriend was, in fact, Hispanic. He ruffles Mads’s sweaty hair, shaking loose droplets into the air. “Tha’s my boy.” 

There are moments in which Mads feels like his father’s son.

Today was one of them. 

The date sped up on him faster than it should have.

This time, Hvitserk was insistent: the wedding had to happen as soon as possible. After all, he was thirty-six. He wasn’t going to be a man that was forty and single. No, he wasn’t. Not if he had everything he wanted; a woman and his very own grown-ass son. He had something to prove to that son. That he was serious about his family. 

“What’cha think,” Hvitserk grumbled. His hair, newly cropped short, waved in silky honey waves around the side of his face. His jaw was peppered with a new sort of scruff, worlds apart from his clean-shaven, long-haired past. The suit was slim, crisp, monochrome like you liked it. Better be like you liked it: he wasn’t the type to wear suits for just anyone. His woman? Special exception there.

His son stood back. “Yeah, looks nice.” 

“Yeah?” 

He slipped in front of the mirror and gave himself a once over. He turns the ring on his finger over and over until he has residual finger ring burn. He bites down on his lip, ripping it between his teeth. It wasn’t just saying goodbye to his single man’s life; it was the fact that his remaining brothers were coming. Bjorn, Ivar, and Ubbe. Would Mads like them?

“Where my boots?” 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious. There’s a powerful thud at the door, then another. Booming laughs fill in the hallway just outside the room. Hvitserk exhales strongly. His large hand lands on Mads’s shoulder with a clasp. 

“Those would be your uncles.”

Mads, the little baby, looks panicked as the door cracks open. Ivar knocks open the door, dressed in a deep maroon and black suit. It’s crisp and formed to his chest. You should at least like it-- given the shit that Ivar has given you this year, he looks good. Why would be expect anything less?

“Man c’mon,” Hvitserk rolls his eyes. “Could’ve waited man. My kid--” 

“Why would I wait?” Ivar hums, hobbling forward. “You’ve been keeping my nephew hostage from me. Come here boy.” 

“With good reason,” Sigurd can’t help but to comment. “You don’t really want to know him. He’s a--” 

“Would you both shut up,” Mads hears another man say. He has ruddy hair and a ruddy beard, with sharp blue eyes. He is almost considerate-- if not for the wolfish look in his eyes, he could almost be considered the most placid of the brothers. Instead, he seems to be someone who is always planning. “You’ll scare him away.” 

Hviserk settles a lily in the pocket to his suit and fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves. Strange, he thinks, how you pick lilies. They’re a bittersweet flower for him to this day. When he bought you flowers, they were roses. Whatever possessed you to chose lilies, he’s not sure. It couldn’t possibly be-- Thora. No, you couldn’t remember her.

“Far,” Mads looks over and pleads for some guidance in those soft, bright eyes of his. His eyes snap toward Ivar’s dragging feet, then the drunken stamped in from huge Bjorn and comparatively more calculated steps from Ubbe. “Help.” 

“What is there to be afraid of, hm?” 

“Go on, go to Ivar.” Hvitserk swings his hands at his hips. Mads looks up the broad body of the blond man and inches toward the darkest haired brother. Probably not the safest of brothers to be speaking to but he’s heard his name multiple times before. Uncle Ivar was scary. And safe. “They won’t hurt you. They’re my brothers.” 

“You want a drink, boy?!” 

“A dr-- drink?”

Hvitserk wonders why he ever thought he could be a Wolf.

Asta has always been supportive. Too supportive. You knew, somewhere inside, she wasn’t happy about your choice to get married to a man that had gotten her into some trouble. Her whole life could have gone down the tubes thanks to him. 

“Are you sure about this?” she said in her slim baby pink maid-of-honor dress. Your hairdresser affixed a soft baby pink pearl pin into your hair. “You can always wait like we said.” 

“Waiting…” You glanced down toward your dress, smoothing out the dress’s slim bodice, leading out into its flowy a-line tulle skirt. Your loved the crisscrossing pearls that formed the straps over your shoulder and connected front and back-- maybe a little sexy for your hypersexual husband-to-be. Everything had gone perfectly. Your make up-- a natural, gentle shimmery pink. Everything was soft and natural, and pretty-- and you were so damn happy. “I’ve been waiting long enough.” 

“I know.” 

“And I want to do it,” you held the bouquet of fresh pink lilies. “I want him.” 

“That’s too much information,” she teases.

The door creaked open behind you. While subconsciously, you knew that it wasn’t him-- you needed to know. “Magnus isn’t coming, is he?” 

“It’s just me, mor.” 

You exhale forcefully. You knew it would be a stretch to ask Magnus to give you away. After what happened to your father, Magnus had agreed to do so with whoever you chose. For sixteen years you banked on that promise. Only now, when it came down to it, he refused to do so. 

“It’s a silly tradition anyway.” 

Asta begins to protest that she can do it when your son, bless him, intervenes by kneeling down by your knee. His large hands overtook yours. Your hairdresser stepped aside after having affixed the veil to the top of your head. Everything had been going so well. Something… had to go wrong, right? That was the way that days went. They could never be absolutely perfect! 

“I’ll do it. I can give you away.”

“You’d do that?” you ask him, unbelievably. You look between Asta-- and Alaia, who looks angelic in a puffy pink dress beside your son. Mads perches kneels beside you, looking like all the man you ever hoped he could be in every sleepless night that you spent up with him as a baby-- wishing that Hvitserk was there. Knowing that your mother said he could never be. 

“But you thought I should wait.” 

“Yeah but; I love you. That’s what matters, right? That you’re happy?” 

That, more than anything, was enough for you. You press back the insistent prick of heat at the corner of your eyes and nod. As you stand up on clumsy metal heels, your boy is there with his hand encouragingly around your waist. Alaia looks for your bouquet of assorted blush and white flowers: lilies.

For a moment-- just a moment, its you and him. No one else matters in the grand scheme of things. He settles the bouquet of flowers between your fingertips, pulling the sheer veil back over your face. “You look… perfect, mor. He’s missing out.” 

“Yeah, that’s what matters, baby.” 

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke​ @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm

[wendimydarling]

The Soldier’s Wife

Title: The Soldier’s Wife

Summary: Syverson and his wife navigate the ups and downs, the highs and lows, and the blessings and pitfalls of marriage.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC

Word Count: 876

Warnings: None (yet)

Chapters: Flashback | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven 

A/N: So this very first scene started in my head as just a conversation between the two characters. I jotted it down before bed last night, and in true author fashion, my mind took it and went “wheeeeeeeee!”, and the scene you’ll read below was born. The story is inspired by an anonymous kink imagine I received recently (though it doesn’t seem like it right now) and a bracelet I got whilst on vacation. 

I’ll probably flesh the story out for a little while (there will be smut eventually, my kinky-hearted beauties, never fear!), and I’ll work to finish it if enough interest is received. You know what that means, folks: like and reblog, but most importantly COMMENT. 

Tag list is open, please let me know if you’re interested!

Tags: @littlefreya​ @sciapod​ @thiccgeralt​ @brexrif​ @peakygroupie​ @viking-raider​ @constip8merm8​ @ly--canthrope​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel was sitting on the dock, dipping her toes in the water as the sun slowly faded below the far line of the horizon. She felt his presence before he sat down, grunting as he took his boots off to set them next to her sandals. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the frogs sing their goodnight lullabies to one another.

“I got ya somethin’.”

Mabel looked at Syverson, cocking an eyebrow at him curiously.

“Yer overseas, fightin’ a war, and ya have time to stop and get me somethin’?”

“I was passin’ by and saw it; made me think of ya.”

He pulled a bracelet out of his pocket; thin white hemp that was woven into a simple pattern. One lone, uneven pearl was braided into the center, with three small beads on either side of it. Mabel offered Syverson her wrist, and he tied it into place slowly, prolonging contact with her skin. She fiddled with the knot, angling the pearl so that the low sunlight glinted off it’s smooth surface.

“It’s really pretty, Sy. Thank you.”

They looked back out at the water, silence overtaking them again. One of Mabel’s favorite things about Syverson was that he didn’t need to talk much. He was generally able to say what he needed with a look or a touch, and he somehow always knew what she was thinking. She looked down at their hands, resting close enough on the worn wood that he could reach out his pinky and touch her. Syverson grazed her fingers lightly, wrapping them gently with his and flipping her hand over so that he could brush the thin skin of her pulse point with his other thumb. She let him play, her gaze fixed on the setting sun.

“I’m gonna marry ya, Mabel. Ya know that, right?”

Mabel rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Oh, do I now?”

“Ya don’t believe me.” It was a statement, not a question. Syverson didn’t ‘ask’ much.

“Should I?”

Syverson frowned, staring out at the water with Mabel. She sighed, knowing she had probably hurt his feelings. She’d known him for years; he was her best friend. And it wasn’t like she was opposed to the idea. Any woman would be lucky to be Syverson’s bride. But grief and fear didn’t want her to be happy, not with him. So she made excuses.

“Look, Sy. Yer a soldier. I’ve already lost one soldier, I don’t think I can lose another like that.”

Syverson glanced at Mabel, understanding and pain softening his brow.

“Yer brother.” 

Mabel nodded. She closed her eyes, feeling the gentle ocean breeze rustle stray wisps of hair from her face. It had been two years, but the pain of losing Danny had never lessened. He used to tease her about the ocean, saying that she had actually been born a mermaid but mom and dad had found her stranded on the beach. He wasn’t far off; ever since she learned to swim she spent every moment afforded to her at the coast. Syverson interrupted her thoughts.

“Ya ain’t gonna lose me, Mabel.”

“Ya can’t promise that.”

“I can.”

“No, ya can’t.”

Stubbornness hardened both their features as they stared one another down. Syverson knew Mabel was right, but he always fought, always looked for a way around the inevitable. Deep beneath his tough exterior lay a hopeless romantic, a man who refused to believe that life didn’t hold beauty, despite all the horror he’d seen. He had the proof sitting right in front of him.

It had always been Mabel. Since they were kids, she’d always had an unknowing hold on his heart. She saw through his quiet demeanor, never questioned his unwillingness to participate at school. When he was sixteen he got in a fight with a bully, and Mabel held him in their treehouse while he cried, terrified to go home and show his father the slip from the principal. She snuck into his room that night and nursed the fresh wounds on his back. She understood Syverson’s reasons when he joined the army, and she was the only person (save for his mother) that showed up to see him off. “Take care of my Ma,” he remembered asking Mabel, “I don’t want her going back to him just cause I’m gone.” Mabel had nodded, kissing his cheek. “Come back to us,” she had whispered. Us.

Looking at her now, Syverson couldn’t help himself. He brushed the blowing strands of hair out of her eyes, cupping her cheek as he lowered his head. Mabel didn’t fight him, submitting to the kiss with ease. She knew without question that he was right. He was going to marry her. She would let him, and would live in fear daily while he was gone. That was the price for his love. It was a price she would pay a thousand times over if it meant his strong arms were the ones that held her at night. Arms that would defend her, protect her, support her, delight in her. Arms that would carry groceries, and toss children in the air, and make love to her at night. Yes, fate, she thought as his lips melted against hers, I will pay your price.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson- Chapter 7: Non-Productive Time

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: On a slow afternoon, Shane remembers a couple of fun evenings with Sy, and can’t help but start texting him…he turns out to be a bad influence.

Don’t want spoilers? Click me first to catch up!

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, a steamy scene that bumps up against the line of smut/not smut…it looks like smuttish is, in fact, a thing, (see what I did there? Toss a high five to your fic writer for the paraphrased Witcher quote in these here notes! lol! Sorry, i’m tired...and in a weird mood tonight...) so, anyway, using that. I love it. 

Author’s Note: This chapter was about half done before I even started SI1 and SI2! So that’s why it’s come along so quickly in the wake of them. It could also mean that there are some continuity issues…I found a couple during the re-write of the first part, and more when I was proofing, so it should be good, but…fair warning, one or more could have escaped me! Also, let me know if the text convo is hard to follow. I’ll try to reconfigure it to be more clear. It seemed to me like context was enough, and they’d had text convos before, and no one said anything…this one’s longer by about 300%, though, so…feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags: 

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

Time seemed to pass slowly when Shane wasn’t with Sy. When they weren’t having dinner together, or doing their typical date thing. She thought about their second date. One of the bars in town, chosen for its above average bar food but mostly, it’s pool tables. The warning he’d given her via text had made her laugh:

We’re goin’ to Cade’s for apps and pool, if that's okay. As gorgeous as you looked in that blue dress you wore last night, I recommend jeans and a T-shirt for tonight, okay?

She took his suggestion. A simple black tee, because she was a food klutz from hell, layered over a red camisole, and her favorite jeans. It showed off her dainty arrow necklace well.

While they played, they drank beer and talked about life, getting deeper into things than they could at therapy sessions.

“Dad split when I was about ten, I guess. Mom did her best with her only son, but she sent me to my grandpa’s a lot when she was working or just…needing her own time. He’d been an army man. Fought in Korea. His dad was in World War II. It felt like…I don’t know, this pull, like I was meant to join up.”

“Destiny?” She asked. A dreamy tone overtook him when he talked about his family and his now former career.

“I guess. Never though too much of all that before.”

They smiled at one another. Knowing.

“What was he like? Your grandpa?”

“Oh, Pap was the best. He was a mechanic in the service and so he could get anything hummin, ya know? We fixed up and built motors for all kinds a’ shit. My first car was a ‘67 Shelby Mustang with the fast back all because when I was about 14, he found most of one at a salvage yard and basically rescued it from the crusher. Got it for about nothin’. For two years we collected parts and did body work on that thing. And by the time I turned sixteen, it was the most beautiful, show-ready Kerry green machine you ever seen.”

“One of my favorite cars! I’d love to see pictures!”

“I’ve still got ‘er.” He grinned. “When Pap died, it got…hard for me to drive her, ya know? So…special occasions only now. And he left me his truck, which he’d just bought brand new while I was on my first tour. That F150 crew cab we came here in, with all the bells 'n whistles. I couldn’t let such a fine automobile go to waste.” He grinned.

“You’re such a gear head.” She chuckled.

“Hey, you may be glad about that when you need somebody to get your own motor humming.” He teased back at her, bending over the table to take his shot and sinking it deftly. He said they would only play for fun, but he was still winning this round…which she didn’t think was that fun.

“Okay, I deserved that.”

“The shot, or the innuendo?” He asked to clarify.

“Yes.” They laughed. He eventually did miss, making it her turn.

"Ya know, I'm disappointed in this date, Shane." He baited.

"How come?" she asked, a bit hurt.

"A guy only asks a girl to play pool with him so he can show her how to shoot…and you already know."

It was true. She'd played a lot growing up and even a bit as she got older. She and her siblings loved billiards. Her whole family, really. And although she was no professional, she wasn't half bad for an amateur.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently, sizing up the table for her next shot, but knowing with a fair amount of certainty what he was implying.

"You know. I wanted to get all close to ya. Show ya how to grip that cue in your hand. How to stand, bent at the hip, where to eyeball your shot from." he smiled. "All that shit ya see in movies that makes the girl all nervous and excited that the guy's touchin' on her. Pressed up against her."

Shane grinned, picked up the small, blue cube of chalk and rolled the concave side over the tip of her cue…she had no need to do so, most people didn't, really…but she made herself look really sexy doing it and asked Sy, "Is that right? Well, I guess you'll have to find another way to get your cheap thrills, because this girl has been known to run a table." She bent over the green felt seductively, the angle at which she did so displaying her décolletage in his direction just enough to tantalize him into licking his lips. She took her shot at the 10 ball, but sunk the 8 instead, losing her the game…damn. She shouldn't have gotten cocky.

"Run it where, sunshine? Into the ground? Off a cliff?" he laughed as she stomped over and began to poke him mercilessly in the ribs.

"Come on, Minnesota Fats. Let's pay the tab and find something a little cozier to do."

"Oka--wait, did you just call me fat?" he was incredulous. She laughed.

"Oh my God, you thought YOU were gonna teach ME about billiards…Minnesota Fats is like the most famous pool player of ever. I am not calling you fat."

"You messin' with me?" he squinted.

"Sy, google it. I promise. I would never call you fat. You're… my sexy man bear."

"Technically a bear is a fat animal." he sulked.

"Why don't you tell that to one when it's chasing you down to make a meal of ya!" Shane laughed. "Come on. Remember? I think I mentioned something about… finding another way for you to get cheap thrills. Lets explore that, shall we?" she whispered into his ear. He dropped some bills on their table nearby to more than cover their food and beer, and they hauled ass into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had definitely been exploring. In the two weeks since they'd been given the green light to see each other outside of therapy--the day Sy basically handed Shane's boss her own ass--they'd spent most evenings with each other, unless Shane had a particularly late evening at work or an early day the next day. A few nights, they had been together so late, that just staying over seemed the most reasonable option. But they had both agreed to take things slowly with the physical stuff. It had been a long time since either of them had been in a relationship, and given their patient/therapist situation, waiting a while for the sex had seemed like a good idea…on paper. On the sofa had been a different story.

One day last week, she'd had to make an early night of things, and stood up from his couch, but was pulled back down to straddle his lap.

"Hold on a minute, sunshine. Why don't you gimme a proper goodbye before ya go, hmm?" he held her so close to him at every curve of their bodies, like the pieces of a puzzle snapping flush together. His kisses were deep and agonizing, his beard gently brushing her mouth, teasing her with its uncommon softness. She returned the ardor, squeezing him in every way she could.

She couldn't contain the desire pooling at her center, especially when he clearly couldn't contain his, either, straining against his shorts, pressing against her so deliciously, right where she needed him. She didn't hold back. And he was nothing if not encouraging to her endeavor.

"That feels so good, baby. You're so warm. Mmm." he whispered as he nipped at her ear and bit at her neck. She hadn't intended to, but she felt herself slipping over the edge, into pure euphoria and gripped at his hair, still rather short, though growing out from the mandated buzz. The length made him even more sensitive and when she ran her hands up his neck and over the back of his head, the result was like an electric current straight to his manhood. His body tensed as his release followed hers seconds later.

"Fuck." he said. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" she was truly confused.

"For losin' it like a teenager." he sighed and laid his head against the back of his couch in surrender…an unfamiliar sight, Shane was certain.

"Don't worry about it. I mean…it's not quite how I pictured our first time, but--"

"Oh, hell no. This doesn't count as a TIME, sunshine. This is batting practice. A warm up.”

"Ooh, you and your baseball references again. I told you, I need to leave, Sy. You can't get me worked up with that kinda dirty talk." she kissed his cheek, and stood. "Walk me out?"

He did. And they stood holding one another in the dark, leaned up against her Explorer, Sy's back against the door, Shane's cheek on his bare, hairy chest, and the turning of the earth all but forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had to stop thinking about him. About their dates and the time they'd spent together. But her schedule had fallen apart for the day due to a nasty storm that had blown in, she had no more education to work on for now, and she could only clean and organize her treatment room and desk so thoroughly.

She guessed…the secretaries knew she was available if need be…and she was salaried…what was the harm in texting Sy? She'd stayed late and came in early and overworked herself in general so much for this clinic. She could justify a bit of downtime.

Hey! Whatcha doin?

Just did some exercises that my super hot PT gave me! *winky face emoji*

Uh-Oh, should I be jealous?

Mmm, hard to say, sunshine. I guess it'll depend on which one of you sleeps with me first. *devil emoji*

Smart money is on the one who’s already let you get to second base…and basically third, even though…does it count if it’s basically because of a dare. Induced by Jack Daniels?

I think it counts if you came…*smirk emoji*

Damn those skilled fingers and Tennessee whiskey.

What can I say. I told ya I knew how to get a motor humming. *cool guy emoji*

You certainly do. No doubt about that.

So how's your day goin', sunshine?

Eh, everyone's cancelled on me. I have no one until 4:00, and I have nothing to do until then. I've decided to see it as a blessing and text my favorite fella.

And when he didn't respond, you resorted to me? *smirk emoji*

Hey you know that you have no competition for my affection other than like, my dad…and Chris Evans. Lol

Your dad, I'm sure I couldn't compete with if I tried, from what you've told me. Chris…well, I'm a REAL captain, not some guy jumpin' around in tights.

Mmmm, shame. I bet you'd look good in a getup like that. *heart eyes emoji*

You think so?

Yup! *American flag emoji*

You wanna be my Black Widow?

I mean…I've already basically got a costume…*embarrassed monkey emoji*

*several lines of big eye emojis*

Yeah, a few Halloweens ago…I was Romanoff. Now you know. I'm a total nerd.

I'm a nerd, too, sunshine. Serious nerd.

How am I just finding out about this? There's next to no merch at your place, and you never wear typical nerd shirts…*skeptical face emoji*

You haven't seen my whole place…*wink emoji*

What, are you telling me you have Batman bedsheets? *lol emoji*

Oh, it's much…much worse than that. The bedroom is pretty neutral, but…I have a…kind of rec room in the basement that is basically nerd central.

Oh. Em. Gee. I can't WAIT to see that, Sy!!! And how dare you hold out on me!!!

Well, I mean, I didn't wanna lay out all my cards right off the bat. I'm playing the long game.

Ah, so, when do I get to see this nerd trap?

Come on over, sunshine. *smiley face*

I said, I've got a patient at 4:00.

Everyone's cancelled on you. Can't you cancel on them for once?

Not unless I'm violently ill do I ever have any patients cancelled on my behalf.

So…say you're violently ill and come see me. *shrugging man emoji*

I dunno, Sy…

I got stuff to make that soup you like…

She had made it clear to him how much she loved soup, especially a good creamy potato soup, and on one of their dates, he'd had her over and there was a big pot of the stuff on his stove, made from scratch. She'd never had better, and he almost got lucky that night…and I mean…he still got a little lucky. He cooked for her AND cleaned up, AND let her pick the movie that night. She still picked an action movie, because she wasn't really a romance movie type, overall. Even so. Could she leave him hanging?

She opened her thread with Heather in her messenger app on her laptop.

Heather, is there anyone who could take my last patient, Mr. Lopez?

Looks like Cheri has a cancel around that time. Need me to move him?

If you could. I'm not feeling well.

Are you pregnant?

Omg, every fucking time. Why when anything is amiss in a woman's life must it be pregnancy?! And why is it okay to ask that question?! Ugh! She loved Heather like a sister, and it probably was just a joke, but uuuuuugh!

Yes…yes I am. *eye roll emoji* I've got a killer headache that's making me queasy. I'll email Susan. Thanks.

You bet. Tell Sy I said hi. *wink emoji*

Shut up.

After a quick and concise email to her boss, she picked her phone back up. One unread message.

You there, sunshine?

She simply replied,

Get that soup ready, Captain, I'm on my way.

Up Next: Chapter Eight: Heat/Ice

[cadomoisspokenfor]

Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 4:

Frizzytop

I theorized in episode 2 that David could see through the 4th wall, or at least into a different universe. At the start of this episode Oliver outright breaks the 4th wall. Perhaps powerful reality benders just have that capability. If David knows, and Oliver knows, then Farouk definitely knows.

“A great philosopher once wrote, ‘In times of peace, the war like man attacks himself.’ This is the route of all our problems.”

“We are the route of all our problems. Our confusion, our anger, our fear of things we don’t understand.”

If we carry those 2 quotes throughout the rest of the show, then no doubt the tragedies that happen later on are caused by a collective misunderstanding of each other. And a collective lashing out at that misunderstanding of each other.

“Violence, in other words, is ignorance.”

The most central theme of the show is empathy vs fear. I s’pose whenever there’s a conflict in the show we’re supposed to be asking whether the characters should answer with empathy or fear. Certain characters lives have revolved heavily around fear. And that informs their decision making quite a bit. This will all come up again at multiple points throughout the show.

Syd... probably can’t break the 4th wall. So maybe it’s most logical to interpret this as her inner monologue. Very Jessica Jones esque.

The same voice lines from when Syd was searching for David in episode 1 are played. I guess there go to whenever Davids lost (whether in the world or in his mind) is to transmit Syds voice calling his name in hopes he’ll hear it and come back.

Kerry can pick locks.

The concept of “bad mutants” is well established amongst the veteran summerland crew. Ptonomy’s caution about David is probably because he feels he has a selfish vibe, and that’s a well known red flag of “bad mutants.”

It should also be noted he’s partly afraid of him because he has so much trouble understanding him. His powers, which when used affectively are essentially the ability to understand where someone’s coming from, keep getting overrided by Davids.

It’s now to the point where Ptonomy is doubting his own ability to tell what’s real and what’s not real. He was pretty confident he’d always know somehow in episode 2. Now, not so much.

Ptonomy very early on is open to the idea that David both has powers and psychological issues. “He’s unstable. You try hearing voices for 10-15 years, self medicate with hard drugs and then get dumped in a looney bin.”

Ptonomy also determines that because of his instability combined with the fact he has powers, David is a bomb waiting to go off.

I suppose if we’re trying to figure out their logic with the whole “the combination of being mentally ill and having powers makes him dangerous”, and considering that their right now going over an incident where David robbed his therapist for drug money and then bashed the doctors head in when he came back, the direct concern is that David makes bad decisions and/or selfish decisions (at least), and if he were to make a bad decision regarding his powers a lot of innocent people could get very badly hurt. Or killed. Along with the worry that the voices in his head don’t exactly give him the most angelic of advice at times, and because of his powers he’s very capable of fulfilling their wills, so to speak.

Based on Olivers speech at the beginning of the episode though, it might be safe to say the overall message is instead of acting on fear they should act on empathy and help David overcome his problems instead of vilifying him for his mental illness.

Syd suggest Davids hiding his real memories behind a fake ones and Ptonomy says she going through a lot of effort just to convince herself Davids a good guy. I never really got what he meant, but I guess what he meant is that Syd’s trying to find a justifiable reason for why David would attack Dr Poole like he did when the obvious answer is just “He’s got violent tendencies.” I always just thought she was genuinely hypothesizing, ya know, trying to solve the case. Maybe she was and Ptonomy’s just mean.

“I was looking for the man I loved. Or did I just love the idea of him? The face he showed me?” Doubt springs up early. Why can none of the characters reconcile that a person can have both good and evil in them at the same time? That’s... all people, in fact.

When Kissinger ask if Amy knew David had powers Amy says, “I think so.” Amy potentially acted on fear as well, in regards to her and Davids childhood that is.

Kerry mostly only thinks of herself in relation to Cary.

Cary misses Kerry when she’s gone. Even besides the roles they fill for each other, they generally enjoy each others company. They’re quite literally as close as 2 people can be. Each one living for the sake of the other.

Davids once again surrounded by a crowd of people all yelling in his face. After they disappear though he recovers pretty fast. I guess he’s used to it.

Clockworks Podcast pointed out that the music Davids wincing at is sax heavy Jazz, which is (abstractly) the sound The Devil With Yellow Eyes makes whenever he appears. If my theory about David seeing through the 4th wall is correct, then maybe he’s actually hearing that sound whenever TDWYE is around. Alternatively, Farouk blast that in his head everytime to mess with him.

“Sorry... I forgot about your um... I had a similar- proclivity? Malady? I forget the word- what’s the word? I’ve been here a long time.”

If the previous paragraphs are right, Oliver’s probably implying he was also affected by a mental parasite at some point. It might’ve even been what stranded him in the astral plane.

From Davids perspective he skipped over the entire second half of Chapter 3.

Oliver is essentially explaining the plot of the show to David and the audience before it’s even been unfurled.

“You have an unquiet mind, so you war with yourself, like a dog trying to chew off its own tail.”

David’s still in a very pessimistic guilt ridden place at this point in the story. That’s probably the internal war Oliver’s talking about.

... why can’t Oliver leave the astral plane again? If he did have his own mental parasite, it seems long gone by now. If he just can’t find his way back, then how does he do it in Chapter 7?

Syd calls non-mutants “normals.”

“We were the ghost in a haunted house.” ~Syd, Chapter 4

“You think ghost like living in a haunted house?” ~Syd, Chapter 12

Why does Syd keep hallucinating The Angriest Boy? Or is that just visual metaphor?

Ptonomy’s a very, “Get the job done and look classy while doing it” sorta guy.

“To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.” ~Sun Tzu, Ptonomy

Is the above quote perhaps relevant to the shows message during other conflicts throughout the series? Could it be subtly implying all the characters should always look for non-violent ways to defeat their enemies? I.e. not just a classy line from Ptonomy, but a statement of themes within the show.

The food David, Philly, and Dr Poole are having in Philly’s memories is cherry pie.

In Philly’s memory David says, “I don’t keep a lot of stuff.” And Philly comments that there’s no evidence David had a past. At least among the things David owns at that point. I know Farouk edited a lot of Davids memories, but why did David himself get rid of so much physical stuff? Syd said the reason he broke into Dr Pooles that day was to destroy their taped conversations. What’s compelling him to erase himself from existence? Is it as simple as “Farouk”? It seems like on a deeper level David doesn’t want anyone to know too much about him. Everyone’s only allowed to know what he tells them. His way of feeling in control I guess.

Philly did the classic “I can fix him” when she started dating David.

Philly implies David going off his medication and keeping bad company is what caused the downfall of their relationship. And subsequently his life, probably.

Despite everything, Philly still feels sympathetic towards David.

“Whoever altered Davids memory-“ Ptonomy very early on humors the idea that Davids being acted on by a 3rd party.

The longer Kerry is away from Cary, the more antsy she is for a fight. She’s not supposed to have to sit through all this “boring stuff.”

Ptonomy left after he got the info on Pooles location from Philly. He probably wanted to get the rest of the information from the source. Ironically, they probably woulda gotten closer to the real answer if he’d just looked a bit longer.

Sys proudly says “Yes” when “Dr Poole” ask if she’s in love with David.

It never really comes up again, but Kerry and Cary are physically linked. Maybe even psychologically. When one of them gets hurt, or even exerts their body a lot, the other can feel it, even if their own body doesn’t take on the actual damage. This is still true even if they’re miles apart.

Syds definitely portrayed as the hero at the end of this scene.

“All those years of practice-“ A part of David always knew he had powers. I wonder, did he practice a little in secret? Or is he saying he was at Summerland for years? That doesn’t really add up. But then... what does he mean by years?

Lenny encourages David to get angry so that his powers will strengthen enough for them to overpower the astral plane. Sort of... cheating his way out. David will later achieve more feats of strength through honing his emotions. Like many heroes, his level of power is intrinsically linked to his emotional state.

Very directly here, Davids violence is caused by ignorance. He doesn’t know Syd switched bodies with Walter and is trying to escape.

[susandsnell]

it's been bugging me for a while now, but five worst parts of the dark Knight and one good part. bc I know you hate the movie 😂😂

boh. oh my gosh. b please don’t hate me.  😂😂

Five worst parts of the Dark Knight: 

5. The Filmmaking. More specfically: LONG AND WASHED OUT PALETTE. IT’S SO FUCKING LONG. IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE OVER TWO AND A HALF HOURS WITH TEN PLOTS TO WRAP UP AND HAVE NO FUCKING COLOURS IN IT. WE GET IT, NOLAN, A MAN DRESSED UP AS A BAT BRINGS YOU NO JOY AND SO NOW WE HAVE TO NOT HAVE ANY JOY IN OUR HEARTS EITHER, THANKS A LOT. HERE I THOUGHT I WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE FUN AT A MOVIE ABOUT BATMAN, BUT YOU SURE PROVED ME WRONG. 

4.  The Writing. Holy pretentious dialogue Batman! Where do I begin?Harvey Dent’s “I will state the theme of my arc in the most lazy and blatant foreshadowing speech until Emma Stone literally says she’s gonna die in the opening of The Amazing Spiderman 2″ gets quoted all the time and yes, superhero movies aren’t known for their subtlety, and not all great movies need to be subtle, but the “die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain” is egregious not only for the reasons I stated, but is a nauseating indicator of the film’s cynicism (despite what the boat climax purports to be proving!). Alfred’s “some men just want to watch the world burn” speech is similar albeit less facepalmy and Theme Stating. It’s blunt and heavy-handed, overly expositional, and very hit-you-over-the-head with regard to commentary. 

And here’s the thing! It could work in the context of the type of movie it is - The Shape of Water pretty much opens with a statement of the “who the real monster is” idea, but it works because the film is a fairy tale and presents itself as such, whereas this movie wants to have its cake and eat it too as a “super adult DEEP subtle COMPLEX movie” with incredibly clear and simple shit like this. Beyond that,  Nolan really has a dialogue issue in a lot of his works where nobody just has a fucking conversation. Everything has to be the most serious issue in the world or a ten thousand word treatise on the fundamental dichotomies of human nature or some shit you’d hear in a freshman philosophy 101 course from that guy nobody can tolerate who thinks he’s G-d’s gift because he wears glasses or some shit, I don’t know. Even the Joker, an agent of chaos, gets wrapped up into it! Like he is a showman, but the yammering and rambles of shit that isn’t even that deep but pretends to be gets on my damn nerves. And the worst part is that it comes at the expense of the characters. 

They don’t really…develop emotional bonds (even with Rachel, the token woman And Therefore the Object At Which Emotions are Thrown). I’m not invested because none of these characters are real or relatable or have human interactions. The script shouldn’t be an anchor that drowns the actors and suffocates the characters to the point that there’s no chemistry, no connection, no believable core. Alfred is practically Bruce’s father and I get no love out of them! Harvey and Bruce don’t connect at all! Lucius Fox, the only POC in the entire movie, is literally reduced to a plot device despite having moral concerns! 

3. That damn third act. This one takes special mention because it just pisses me off. It’s just too much! The chase with the Joker would be fine, but that’s not the end. His plot already extends way beyond where it would logically end (hence the bullshit runtime), but on top of that, on top of the drama with the escape ferries hammering you over the head with the point they’re trying to make about humanity and the obnoxious moralizing, and then you have Harvey’s fall to the dark side which I’m sorry, needed a lot more time than just getting crammed in to the back end of the movie. His descent into evil happened way too quickly. Two-Face is a great villain! But take Batman the Animated series (to me, the best adaptation of Batman there is, while not perfect) as an example: he’s established as a character and his descent into Two-Face receives the full focus of entire episodes and impacts the characters later on! Having him play sideshow to the Joker is a huge mistake, especially with something as huge at play as threatening Gordon’s family; it completely disrupts the focus of the plot and unnecessarily prolongs the film as a whole, but he goes down pretty easily in one of the movie’s shitty-ass fight sequences that I’d make their own point if there weren’t worse things because I can’t tell who’s punching who. And if you’re gonna rush Dent into villainy only to kill him, that makes his whole plot kinda a waste.

And The Dark Knight Rises was a lot more criticized than the Dark Knight, so how’s this for a fix for the entire trilogy? Don’t kill Two-Face. Keep Joker getting carted away gloating about having corrupted him, but then have Two-Face get away too.  Don’t make whitewashed lamely written Bane the villain of the next movie - instead, let the tail end of this movie build Two-Face up as the main villain for the final part! That way, you have more time for development, cohesiveness, consequences, exploration of themes, and you don’t waste characters. 

2.  Batman / Bruce Wayne’s entire character. Okay, so whenever I fawn over the Lego Batman movie and how it confronts the issue with modern portrayals of Bats and rightfully points out it’s not deep, he’s just a humongous dick, this feels like the source material of that popular portrayal. Of course, it pre-dates it in the comics - Miller and company are to blame for Grimdark Asshat who Batmansplains, but I feel like Dark Knight especially, for its success and greater accessibility as a film, is what widely propagated this portrayal. 

Secret identity or cape and cowl, there is a serious issue in your Batman movie if your Batman is terrible. He’s the protagonist, the titular character, and he’s fucking terrible! At best, Bruce Wayne is like…completely deadpan and not even there (I don’t give Bale shit because I think a lot of the fault lies with the writing/direction, Ledger was pretty much the only lively performance in the movie), placeholder of a protagonist. At worst, he comes off as deeply self-centered, self-aggrandizing, entitled, and violently unstable. I don’t care how bad the Joker is, when in custody, he still had legal rights, and Batman fucking tortured him. Even brutal criminals should not ever be tortured for information! And the film never engages with Bats reaching the point of beating people to a pulp as means of interrogation; he just feels conflicted about who’s worse and broods over it after the fact instead of, I don’t know, maybe thinking twice about torturing someone. The darker Marvel Netflix shows have their characters doing a lot of grim things, but the narrative or other characters almost always holds them accountable for it in ways beyond “aww, I feel kinda sad that I beat mentally ill people to a bloody pulp” – it challenges them often, or has other characters call them out. Batman just does this shit and people are like “oh you shouldn’t do that” and he’s like “AHHH I’M A MONSTER” and it borders into uncomfortable real-life implications with regard to authority and violence. There’s something to be said for introducing grey morality into superhero media, and I get the anti-hero thing, but Dark Knight codified the “white guy grimdark antihero being actually just a terrible fucking person who is the good guy in name only” deal we see in a lot of our media today.

It’s one thing to have a complex and flawed protagonist, but you have to balance that out with redeeming qualities, otherwise, he’s not even a fucking superhero! Again, I refer back to the 90s animated series: Batman has his moments of ruthlessness, but it’s balanced out with the philanthropy work we see in Bruce Wayne, and moments of genuine compassion that he shows many of his enemies – he apologizes genuinely to Two-Face, often tries to give them an out, and is frequently super kind to Harley Quinn, bringing her the dress she was accused of stealing when she was sent back to Arkham in the episode where she tried to redeem herself, and frequently trying to get her to acknowledge that the Joker is abusive towards her, as well as convince her she can still start over and be a good person. On top of which, Batdad is super popular in both the show and the comics. He’s frequently shown as having an especial soft spot for children; addition to all his adopted kids, you also have a lot of his interactions with children, whether as Bruce or as Batman, marked by gentleness, care, and compassion, largely based on what he went through as a child. 

You get no such moment in the Dark Knight. I cannot for the life of me think of kids who would go to see this as a Batman movie and leave looking up to Batman and wanting to be like him except on the surface level of wearing a cool costume and punching bad guys. There is nothing heroic or admirable about this Bruce. He fights crime as a vigilante - brutally, I might add -and this time, it comes off more as a desire for vengeance than a desire for justice, a point which the film raises, but ultimately doesn’t resolve or engage with in a satisfying character arc. 

The closest thing we get to humanizing this character is his relationship with Rachel, and even then, his interactions with her have heavy shades of Friendzoned Nice Guy which is especially bullshit because he won’t pursue a relationship with her yet is bitter about any decisions she might make about her own love life. He doesn’t even care about her that much as anything more than a conquest! He really doesn’t, and Alfred tearing up the letter proves that – with regards to how he behaves towards her, it really feels like it’s not so much that the letter would break his heart as it is that he’d resent her beyond the grave! 

Worse yet, he gives no shits about anyone else. This has a lot to do with Nolan’s scripts having a toxic masculinity problem where it’s not cool for guys to sympathize with or have emotional bonds amongst themselves, but like… he’s allies in a shared venture with the other characters, and nothing more. Alfred is practically his dad but you wouldn’t know that. Gordon, as revealed in TDKR, was kind to him after his parents’ deaths, but they’re just partners. Harvey is a rival for claiming a woman!  In other adaptations, Bruce and Harvey’s friendship is fleshed out a lot so the guilt and shock of his transformation into Two-Face is really impactful! Here, Bruce doesn’t really give a shit beyond it just being another thing to do. 

And that’s what heroism and motivations are to Batman in this - just a thing to do. I don’t want to watch a hero who’d rather bitch about doing good than actually just fucking do good, this is the safety of your city, not a school essay! He doesn’t really seem to want to help people, he wants to complain about people, but then thinks he’s so fucking special and such a snowflake martyr for still helping them regardless! It’s such a deeply childish and yes, toxically male mentality. I know it’s become a meme, but the ”I’m not the hero Gotham needs, but the hero that it deserves” line pisses me off so much for this reason, as well as the fact that he thinks that Gotham’s flaws justify the fact that he beats the fuck out of people and roars in their face to get answers; I think the perfect refutation to both that line and how a superhero protagonist that explores what heroism means can actually be found in Wonder Woman – “It’s not about deserve, it’s about what you believe.” In fact, that’s what made Wonder Woman so good (and feminist!) – it’s rejection of toxic masculine ideals and emphasis on love, compassion and vulnerability being one’s strength, and that people are inherently deserving of being saved if you believe in the good of the world - a much better treatise on good and evil than “see, people sometimes don’t explode boats but they still suck so it’s okay for a billionaire in furry cosplay to beat the shit out of mentally ill people because that’s what this city deserves, a guy who’s more into violence than saving people.” He just doesn’t care, so why the hell should we?

And there’s just no arc. He just reacts to shit and that’s it, which makes him boring when he’s not being a fucking maniac. Despite the script not allowing him to have feelings for other human beings, having him break his no-kill rule with Harvey at the end would have been impactful….had he not already broken it in Batman Begins by leaving White Ra’s al Ghul (Liam Neeson I love you but there is no reason to have whitewashed him or Talia the way Nolan did in the series - same as he did with Bane and arguably Catwoman since she’s been portrayed as a WOC many times before, actually come to think of it, there is a LOT of whitewashing in this trilogy) to his death. 

The film comes up with no real way to challenge it’s hero, have him grow, or change, or even show consequences for his failure to change, making him come off as stunted, unlikeable, and yeah, not much of a hero.

1. The sexism. (You knew this was coming, and yes, it is the worst part). I already mentioned how the men in this movie all fall prey to toxic masculinity as is common with Nolan characters, then even more characteristic of a Nolan movie is The Dead Girlfriend, Wife, or Daughter (you know, the only three things women could ever be!) of Sad White Guy(s). Rachel is the only female character (strike one) and she is handled nothing short of atrociously. Her entire job as a lawyer, intelligence, and hard work established in Batman Begins (which is also too grimdark but actually doesn’t piss me off half as much!) is hardly even mentioned and takes a backseat to her being a prize for the men (including her boss!) to throw feelings at and squabble over. While the male characters have no personality except for one characteristic and a goal because this script was written by an edgy thirteen year old boy, Rachel has no personality except to be a living emotional crutch/plot device. She does not exist as an autonomous individual outside her relationships to the men in the movie. Shit, she’s barely autonomous within these relationships! Bruce is a bitter little shit about her not wanting him back and we’re supposed to feel for him despite him literally offering her nothing relationship-wise for two movies and actively pushing her away at times! He feels he can’t be with her, but the framing is such that she shouldn’t have the right to be with anyone else, either! What the hell? I would even go so far as to say that her choosing Harvey just as she gets blown up, as well as how both of them got to that point, almost feel like the narrative punishing her for not wanting Bruce. More male entitlement bullshit. 

 And her fate…well, I mean. There’s a damn reason The Dark Knight is my go-to example when I want to explain what Fridging/Stuffed in the Fridge means. After having every possible stereotypical pigeonholed white girl trope tossed at her, Rachel is killed off callously for the character development and man angst of not one, but two self-obsessed stubbled white guys who make it about themselves and their right to act like phenomenal turds. She’s Helen of Troy – a woman blamed for people’s reactions to her (Harvey becoming Two-Face, Batsy or Bruce being saaaaaad, etc). She’s the Lost Lenore; a person reduced to how their death impacts their romantic interests.  We have reached peak Nolan here, and frankly, peak Batman too, because the franchise (comics, movies, etc) has always had this same problem with its treatment of women. Her fucking death isn’t even about her! It’s Harvey’s fucking villain origin and Bruce’s sad ending and Alfred’s resentment and note-burning and would she have waited, oh boo hoo, how about, did she have a fucking family, what would have happened if she hadn’t been murdered young, et fucking cetera. 

The thing that really gets me is that Rachel is by no means the worst treated woman in speculative fiction (especially not those that make a claim to some degree of intellectualism); she’s white, so her death is beautifully tragic and she’s put on a pedestal rather than being subjected to racialized misogynistic tropes (being treated more roughly by the narrative, having her suffering ignored or erased altogether, her death being callously ignored except for a throwaway line of dialogue, etc), she’s not unnecessarily and gratuitously sexually brutalized for shock value (that looks uncomfortably like fetishism at times) like the women on Game of Thrones or in nu!Bond movies, or, if we’re still in the Batman universe, Barbara Gordon in any iteration of the Killing Joke (which is another tentpole of misogyny in the Batman universe and I fucking hate it and it clearly influenced the Dark Knight, so, chicken, egg). She isn’t forcibly sterilized and her inability to get pregnant treated as making her a freak like AOU Black Widow. She has no pointless and insulting fanservice scenes like Carol Marcus in her underwear in Star Trek: Into Darkness. Her suffering is not treated as empowerment like any number of women written by Joss Whedon, she isn’t used to be chewed up and spat out and destroyed in a romance with either a guy who terrifies her and in whom she’s shown no prior romantic interest or an outright villain who has caused her nothing but pain in some stupid half-assed not-redemption arc where she has to sublimate herself and be stupidly forgiving beyond the willing suspension of disbelief so some horrible man can evolve.

But why this sexism sticks out to me is that it’s so insidious; if it were more on the nose like the examples I listed above, it’d almost be less jarringly offensive, but it masquerades as her being an empowered yet tragic character and weaves into an overall narrative that validates all the tropes I mentioned, and legitimizes itself in a way that feels fundamentally dishonest about how sexist it’s being. Worse yet, there’s the fact that The Dark Knight is more than just self-contained; its influence on not just comic book movies, but all kinds of media as we know it, is undeniable. And as far as setting the example goes? This hugely well-regarded, influential film is almost entirely white, and tells us that women exist as distractions, tragedies, and extensions of men’s storylines, and this bullshit has been echoing in similar media works since. 

AND NOW, THE ONE (or multiple!) NICE THING(S): 

All this being said, I admit there actually are a lot of things I like about this movie if I can separate them enough from the main issues! 😂For one thing, Hans Zimmer’s work on the score is top-notch; I listen to Like a Dog Chasing Cars and Harvey Two-Face all the time and the music alone provokes stronger emotions for the characters than anything in the movie actually did. The opening heist is just fantastically entertaining, and up until the messy third act, the pacing and plot is pretty tight and engaging! Heath Ledger’s performance as the Joker is of course fantastic; although he’s not my favourite Joker, he really gave it his all, and is by and large the highlight of the film. Nolan is really good with visual appeal (with the exception of that damn colour palette) and the shots are fantastic. I really love the chase scene with the Joker and wish the rest of the movie held my excitement like that.  

Finally, it’s odd to say this, but I really like the world of the movie once I ignore the characters and plot. The Gotham that was built in Nolan’s trilogy, the contrast between the classes with the lavish receptions and dinners versus the underbelly, the corruption versus the goodness, how these disparate elements work in a terrible symbiosis, the architecture and technology reflecting this character – it’s incredibly vivid, both grounded in reality and yet sufficiently speculative fiction-y enough to be intriguing. I just wish that the people in it matched the quality of the setting. 😂😂😂

[wcfall-blog]

Drowning: a series ( 1/? )

“Anyone who shows up later than 10 AM tomorrow will pay for everyone’s lunch.”

Getting up early was never a problem to Roman. Always been a morning person, he’d have done more than cook his own breakfast by 6 AM. How he’d get to school isn’t a problem anymore either. Ever since his eldest sister got married and moved out, her car has been his. He could already predict that he’ll be at the auditorium as early as 8 tomorrow. He won’t have to pay for everyone’s lunch. Better, he won’t be forced to talk to each and everyone to get their order.

But Roman wasn’t worried about being late. That wasn’t the issue here. It was the fact that the play is three days away, and the dress rehearsals are tomorrow. And this time, he’s not just a member of the props committee anymore. He was a main character. Why in the world, given his low self-esteem, did he think it was a great decision to audition?

The rest of the drama club was making their way to the exit. Roman, as usual, stayed a little behind to avoid the crowd.. and any conversation on the way out. He reached for his pack of his cigarettes from the pocket of his bag when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, making him drop his stick.

“You got any more of that?”

Roman looked up to see whose hand it was and wanted to hide in his hoodie as soon as he did. Tommy Larsen was a nice guy. He was just... too talkative and too wild for him.

“Yeah, I do. But it’s not my usual brand so ---”

“Oh a smoke is a smoke. I’ll have that, thank you.” Tommy whisked Roman’s pack of cigarettes from his hand and helped himself with one stick. Lighting it up before they could even leave the auditorium.

The two aren’t close friends --- no. Maybe they have a lot of mutual friends. Like:

Maia Lancaster --- she’s one of Roman’s best friends and she was Tommy’s cousin’s ex. Roman also heard that Tommy and Maia were once rumoured to be together and it caused a huge messy relationship drama.

Evelyn Grady --- she and Tommy dated, although no one really knows why they broke up. And guess what, Roman has a crush on her.

Brianna Campbell --- the first and only person who genuinely understood Roman because apparently they were both ‘outcasts’ is also the very same person that went to prom with Tommy. Because they were officially together.

It’s pretty obvious why they aren’t close. Not that Roman would ever dream of it. They have way too little in common, but one of them is that they’re both heavy smokers. That’s the only time they actually talk.

It was too cold outside. Roman would want to run straight to his car and get warm. But his cigarettes tasted too good in that weather.... and he didn’t really know how to make his exit now that he and Tommy are smoking and sharing a conversation together... where Tommy is mostly the one talking. Nothing new.

“I never really paid attention to Lila, you know. So I don’t really know her enough to be all cute-sy around her baby. But sometimes I have to, because of Kelsey.”

Roman looked at him, confused. Tommy noticed this and said, “I mean, Kelsey and the baby daddy are in the same house. She has to deal with the little family like... 24/7 so..”

Oh, right. Roman didn’t really know any of them at all. Kelsey Grayson is an A student, Lila Eaton was a snob (for him at least) and loves sardonic humour, and Gabe Andrews was part of Dash Sullivan’s crowd. These people are on top of the food chain. And Roman was just... a potato who loves art and theatre. Oh.. and animals, of course. He’s a veterinary science major, anyway.

“I thought for a moment ---”

“That we’re dating?” Tommy interrupted, then burst out laughing. “Pshhh, we would never!”

And Roman swore to God that that was the sound of a fake laugh. “No, I was gonna say... I thought for a moment Kelsey was that kind of person.. you know... the kind that---that forces people into doing stuff.”

Tommy stopped laughing and cleared his throat before taking another drag. “Nahh. She’s pro-choice. She respects everyone’s opinions. Except when it targets a race or a gender or something like that. She doesn’t like that I smoke too much, but she doesn’t shove it down my throat every now and then. So, no. She’s never that kind of person.”

“So.. you think she could help me with something? My... uhm I’m a science major and I’m not so great with words but we have this--this essay that’s due on ---”

“Say no more, kid.” Tommy cut in, and it made Roman squint for a second. Last time he checked, he’s the same age as Tommy. “I’ll talk to her for you.” Then he whipped out his phone, and called her. Right there and then.

Roman wanted to step out of the scene. Watching Tommy mention his name to someone else on the phone made him regret he asked Larsen a favour. But then he overheard Kelsey saying “sure,” followed by Tommy’s little nod and wide grin. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea after all.

“I’m slightly offended you didn’t come looking for my help.” Tommy joked.

“Shit, no! No, I didn’t mean that! I wasn’t---that’s not what---it’s just Kelsey is---” Roman waved his hands, feeling more ashamed of himself now more than he was earlier.

The other guy just laughed and playfully punched Roman’s shoulder. “Chill. I was joking. I don’t have time for my homework so why in the world would I have time for yours?” Then Tommy fixed the collar of his coat up to cover his neck as he started walking towards Roman’s car.

“Where are you going?”

Tommy stood next to the car door and turned around to grin at his new friend. “I’m going to drink and you’re gonna come with me, Winny.”

“My name’s not---” Roman said as he fumbled for his keys. Poor kid was still confused.

“Yeah but your last name’s Winston and... I don’t know. Winny just came out. You do drink, right?”

“I do.. but ---”

“You party?”

“No, it’s too much ---”

“Then it’s a chill night for us. I know what you feel about tomorrow.”

This made Roman freeze in his place. He could feel his cheeks turn a shade darker and he could tell it’s not from the breeze.

“I used to feel that every time I have to show dad my school card. So...” he shrugged and grinned wider, leaning on the passenger’s side’s door. “We’ll only have a few beers, Roman.”

And for the first time that day, Roman smiled and meant it. For the first time in a long time, someone understood him without having to explain himself. For the first time this semester, he made another friend. And it’s someone he could smoke and drink with.