#rewrote one of my favorite television episodes with these characters

[jo-castle]

Devil's Share

You know when you've been in a writers block for years and then your computer breaks and you're suddenly compelled to write a 5k fic for a fandom you've never written for before? Yeah anyway I wrote a bunch of Dick Grayson whump on my phone.

Posted it on AO3 and under the cut here.

"I want to hire you to kill Deathstroke."

Jason wasn't sure how Dick had managed to find him, but in the end he thought he shouldn't be too surprised. He made a face behind his mask that Dick couldn't see.

"The golden boy wants someone to die," even with the voice modulator the sarcasm seeped through. "Well Dick, why him? Why me?"

"He tried to kill my brother." Dick said.

Jason scoffed. "Tried?" Robins were dropping like flies, apparently.

"I stopped him."

"But you didn't kill him?" Jason teased.

"Couldn't." Dick grit through his teeth. "Was a little busy bleeding."

"I see." Jason observed him for a moment. Dick did look terrible. He leaned against the wall with a hand pressed to his side. Looked like a strong wind would tip him over. "Why me?"

"You're the Red Hood, right?" Dick said. "After Deathstroke, you're the best hitman in town. I don't know what your deal is-" Jason frowned. "-and I don't particularly like you. But I need a man to die."

Jason stilled. He didn't know. Dick didn't know. Of course Bruce never told him. Jason crossed his arms to avoid the reaction to hit something. Dick had no idea who he was, besides a random crime lord.

"I'll pay." Dick added after the silence stretched on.

"Tried to kill your brother, huh?" Jason asked. He tried to imagine Dick hating someone enough to want them dead. "That makes someone worthy of death? By trying? What if someone succeeded?"

Dick gripped the wall harder, and Jason couldn't tell if it was from anger or pain.

"Look," Dick snapped. "Someone did, okay? I have three younger brothers. The first one was killed by an awful man. The second one was nearly killed-" oh, so Bruce told him about that little incident. "-and now, yet again, another one is nearly killed! I need to stop it."

"Took you nearly losing three brothers to do anything about it huh?"

"I've tried." Dick grumbled. "I did something the first time, I killed the man who killed my brother."

Jason startled, his arms slipping to his sides. "You, what?"

"It didn't stick." Dick grumbled. "But I need this one to, okay? This man has been in my life enough. He kidnapped me-" what the fuck "-he tried to kill Damian, I-" Dick cleared his throat. "I need him dead. And I can't do it right now. Please. I can't lose another brother."

I can't lose another brother.

Jason felt the urge to tell him. To take off the helmet, to reveal it all. To yell, to scream, to ask so many questions about Dick supposedly killing the Joker. But in the end he couldn't bring himself to. He watched Dick sag against the wall, watched the dark look Dick shot his way, and all he could think was how sad it was. He knew what anger felt like. What fear felt like. He saw it in Dick. He also knew that for Dick, this wouldn't last. If Bruce couldn't bring himself to seek revenge for a lost child, Dick certainly wouldn't.

The silence stretched on and even in the dark Jason could see Dick's concentration fading.

"No." Jason said.

"Name your price-"

"I said no!" Jason snapped. He took a step forward then sighed, raising his hand to his face in an aborted gesture before motioning at Dick. "You look like you're about to fall over," Jason said. "Go home. Get better. Think this over. And when you realize this isn't what you want? Well. Don't call me."

"This is what I want." Dick insisted.

"Then do it your own damn self."

Jason turned his back on Dick and stalked off. Let that loser drag himself home. Jason had better things to do.

----

Bruce rubbed a hand over his face as the elevator doors shut on Damian's pouting face.

"Dick is fine," Bruce repeated to himself as the elevator took him down. Lying to his sons exhausted him and Damian was particularly stubborn.

The doors opened with a ding, letting out into the Batcave. Bruce strode past the empty medical bay without sparing it a glance. Dick wasn't there. Wasn't resting, like he'd told Damian. But if Damian found out that Dick had left the manor in his condition Bruce would have a nightmare to deal with on top of everything else. Hopefully Alfred would keep him distracted long enough for Bruce to find Dick and put his ass back in bed.

Tim was pouring over a computer and didn't even look up when Bruce put a hand on his chair and leaned over. The screens we full. Many showing scene from cameras Bruce knew were near Dicks frequent locations, but none of them seemed to showing Dick himself.

"Anything?" Bruce asked.

It was Barbara's voice that answered from the speaker. "Not yet." She sounded tired. Bruce didn't bother checking whatever goddamn time of night it was. "Tim is looking for Dick-"

"I'll find him." Tim muttered.

"-and I'm still looking for any information of Deathstroke. I'm worried-"

"Deathstroke didn't take him." Bruce said. The cameras had told them that much. The idiot child had limped out of here of his own free will.

"I'm worried," Barbara repeated. "That we're not the only ones looking for him."

"Who else?" Bruce asked.

"League of Shadows."

Bruce winced. Not surprising, but not what he wanted to hear.

"Deathstroke tried to kill Damian." Barbara pointed out.

"There's no way Talia doesn't already know." Bruce grumbled. He hated the idea of her having eyes inside his city. Even if it was to keep tabs on her son.

"Let them have him," Tim finally looked up. His eyes burned with unshed tears and anger. "That son of a bitch has done enough."

"Language." Bruce hissed. Tim just glared, and Bruce forced himself to take a breath. He reminded himself that the kid was, well, a kid. A kid whose brother was grievously injured and missing. "Sorry," Bruce added. "You aren't wrong."

"I'm worried," Barbara repeated, "That Dick will get caught in the crosshairs between the League and Deathstroke."

Bruce startled. "Dick is going after Deathstroke." It wasn't a question. It was so obvious.

Tim laughed. "Of course." Pulling the chair away from Bruce, he hunched over his keyboard again, flicking screens and typing code Bruce only half understood.

Bruce stepped back. No. Dick wasn't fine. He'd been fucking shot and now was apparently running amok in the city. Apparently getting himself caught in the crossfire between Deathstroke and the League of Shadows. Bruce was itching to get out there, to do his own work. Maybe he should suit up-

His phone rang. No. Batmans phone rang.

Tim paused to glance at it, then at Bruce.

"Well?" Tim demanded when Bruce hesitated. "Answer it!"

Bruce didn't want the call to be related to Dick's being missing, but he also wasn't willing to divert his focus right now. He picked up the phone anyway. Tim returned to his work when Bruce answered, but he knew the kid was listening.

"I could use your expertise here," Jim Gordon said without preamble. "Got a scene that I think you might have special knowledge of.

----

As it turned out, it was three in bloody morning. Dick had been missing for nearly twelve hours.

Spotlights lit up the scene, illuminating the gory details. The SUV was crunched to hell and looked like it had recently been on fire. The corpses the EMT's were covering looked charred. The only survivor was being hustled into an ambulance for immediate medical care.

Bruce felt sick looking at it. He lingered in the shadows, but Gordon found him anyway.

"You wanna tell me why your boy smashed a car with a garbage truck and left these guys to burn?"

Bruce sucked in a breath. "Which one?"

Jason, likely. But if Dick . . .

"Which one?" Gordon looked somewhere between frightened and offended. "How many of your dogs are off their leash?"

Bruce glared solidly, but Gordon didn't look phased. He just waved his hand as if to clear the air.

"It was Nightwing."

Dick.

"Is he here?" Bruce demanded.

"Nope." Gordon shook his head. "Fled long before we got here. Just got the camera detail. This isn't like your boy, Batman." Gordon pressed. "What's happening?"

"Who were they?" Bruce asked, ignoring the question.

Gordon fiddled with wallets in his hand. "Dunno yet." He said. "Got some IDs, trying to figure that out-"

"Let me see."

Gordon sighed, but handed them over and waited semi-patiently while Bruce read the information aloud.

"On it." Barbaras voice crackled from Bruces comm. The police weren't willing or able to crack the internet in the way Barbara could.

Bruce passed the IDs back dismissively.

"He's looking for Deathstroke." Bruce admitted.

Gordon sucked in a breath. "In Gothem?"

"If you hear anything about him, and I mean anything," Bruce said. "I need you to let me know immediately. And then stay the hell away from him."

"The cops can handle Deathstroke," Gordon said with a frown. "If you let us-"

"There are a lot of angry people after him right now." Bruce gestured at the scene in front of them. The scene Dick had caused. "They're not in a respect the cops kinda mood. They'll kill anyone who gets in their way."

Gordon grunted. "Your boys killers, Batman?"

Bruce grit his teeth. "Not yet." Spinning around, he stalked off into the dark. Not most of them, anyway. Not Dick. Not if he could help it.

----

Bruce found the door to the warehouse already swung open and heard whimpering inside. The address Barbara had directed them to was a frequent location of one of Dicks earlier victims. Barbara thought it was some kind of illegal printing press. ID's, most likely. That implied that Deathstroke was looking for a new ID, and that he might be trying to flee the country. It would be a lot harder to find him - or Dick - if he left..

Bruce gestured for Tim to hang back while he peered through the door. The room inside opened up to a dim office. Red Hood stood in the middle of the room, gun in hand. He was facing the man responsible for the whimpering, fair enough given that the man was pinned to the wall with a piece of rebar jutting out of his body.

Beckoning Tim, Bruce swept into the room.

"R-" Bruce didn't know if he'd been about to call Robin or Red Hood, but either way the name choked in his throat. "Hey."

Red Hood turned around, twirling his gun lazily over a finger.

"You're late."

The voice modulator made it impossible for Bruce to detect even a hint of the child he once knew. Then again, maybe that child wasn't even in there.

Tim lurked behind Bruce and sucked in a breath at the sight. "What did you do?"

Behind Red Hood, Jason, was a mess of blood. The man looked beat to hell, and a fresh bullet wound oozed from his leg. He barely looked conscious as he gripped the rebar.

"I shot him." Red Hood said easily.

Bruce threw him a look.

"Really!" Red Hood holstered the gun he was toying with and held up his hands. "Like I said, you're late. I found him like this."

"You found a man impaled to a wall," Bruce growled. He couldn't believe the nerve of this-

"Your precious golden boy did this."

The words were like a punch to the gut.

"Killing is off the table, but did you ever tell him not to torture people for information?" There was a smirk in Red Hoods crackling voice.

"He wouldn't." Bruce snapped. "You lying-"

"Nah, this was Nightwing."

Both Bruce and Red Hood startled. Neither of them had noticed Tim slip from Bruces side to inspect the man on the wall.

"Please," the man begged. "Help me."

"Major bruising, electrical burns consistent with Nightwings sticks, this reads like Nightwing." Tim ignored the man completely as he poked him over. "Rebar is a little dramatic, but . . ."

"Told yah," Jason shot over his shoulder at Bruce.

"Why would he do this?" Bruce wasn't really asking, the question just came out.

"Hey," Tim slapped the mans face, drawing his focus. "Who are you anyway."

"Nobody," the man whimpered. "Please, let me go. I told that blue freak, I told this red freak, I don't know where Deathstroke is!"

"What else did you tell me?" Red Hood prompted. He didn't move any closer to the man or Tim, but the man cowed anyway.

"S-same that I told the blue one. Nightwing. There's a man downtown, he might know more. . ."

"I got an address right before you showed up." Red Hood sounded smug.

"We'll check it out." Bruce said. "See if we can't get to him before Nightwing does."

"Like hell we will." Red Hood snapped. "I don't need your help. I got the info, I'll find Nightwing."

"Why do you even care?" Bruce tossed back. "Not like you've given a damn about this family recently."

Tim sucked in a breath. Other than that and the mans quiet whining, there was silence.

Red Hoods fingers twitched over his guns and Bruce silently dared him to pull one. He needed an excuse to hit someone.

Instead, Red Hood crossed his arms and turned away.

"He came to me." Red Hood muttered, and Bruce almost missed it. "He asked me to kill Deathstroke and I said no. So. Guess he decided to do it himself." Jasons head twitched towards Bruce. Despite the opaque glass, Bruce got the impression he was being glared at. "You didn't tell him." Jason said accusingly.

The words took a moment to process. You didn't tell him . . .

Oh.

"I didn't think he'd go looking for you." Bruce hissed.

"You didn't. Tell him."

"Tell him what? That my dead sidekick is alive and a crazed kill-"

"Okay now!"

Suddenly Tim was between them, a hand on Bruces chest pushing him away from Red Hood. Bruce was furious. As if he was the one that needed to be held back.

"No, none of us told Nightwing, Hood, I'm sorry." Tim kept a hand on Bruce even as he turned to Red Hood. "It's difficult, okay? But we can't fix that until we find him."

"Why do the two of you even care about finding him, huh?" Red Hood snarled. "You can't be bothered to tell him the truth about the world. You-" he gestured at Bruce "-have a new child to ruin, why bother with him? Let him rot like you did me."

"I did not-"

"Because!" Tim spoke loudly over Bruces shouts. "We're family! Okay? We find our own, when we can."

"Shitty family." Red Hood muttered, turning away. "I'm going. You're not. I'll find him."

Bruce was ready to argue, but Tim was pulling on his cape.

"Red Hood and I will check the address." Tim said. "You get this guy to a hospital." He pointed at the man who had gone limp on the wall. Bruce wondered if he was even still alive and felt a pang of guilt for not checking on him sooner.

"Tim," Bruce didn't understand why Tim was attempting to defend Jason. It hadn't even been a year since Red Hood had tried to kill the current Robin. Bruce was still upset, Tim certainly had a right to be. "You don't have to go with him." Bruce said softly. Not soft enough, given the scoffing from Red Hood. "I can-"

"You can't." Tim said flatly. "You shouldn't. I can. It's fine." He glanced at Red Hood, who hadn't moved or objected to his new partner. "We'll be fine."

----

Jason shook Tim off as soon as he pulled the bike up in front of the address the man had coughed up. The address that was, allegedly, where Deathstroke met with the man who had actually sold him the fake ID's. It looked innocuous enough. Until you took into account the shattered windows and busted in door of course, but Jason had seen worse.

"Thanks for the ride." Tim muttered, pulling off the borrowed helmet and handing it back to Jason. Jason didn't respond, just tossed it on the bike and strode towards the building.

The inside was just as messy as in the outside, possibly worse. The hallway was littered with bodies. Whoever had been working here was long since dead and their killers hadn't spared any furniture or walls in the killing.

"Even I'm not this messy." Jason muttered, trying to find a place to step that wasn't steeped in blood.

"Dick didn't do this." Tim said.

"What do you see?" Bruces voice came over the comms.

"Shut up." Jason growled. "You focus on your job, and we'll focus on ours."

"You never told me why you cared." Bruce clipped back.

"You never stopped being an ass."

"Alright," Barbara cut in. "Cut it out or get a new channel. Tell me. What is happening?"

"Buncha bodies," Tim responded. "Dick didn't do this."

"How do you know?" Bruce asked, desperation in his voice.

"Afraid your favorite child is going to fall from the pedestal you put him on?" Jason commented.

"Remember earlier when Barbara mentioned the League of Shadows might be after Deathstroke too?" Tim said, ignoring the argument.

Jason stiffed. "What? Why?"

"On account of him trying to kill their heir, and all." Tim muttered. "Long slices, blades. Lotsa blood. I don't even know if Dick could do this with a wound like he has."

Jason strode past him, abandoning his hope not to get his shoes bloody, and marched down the hallway. The door at the end was broken in, a sure sign it was the one they were looking for.

Jason pushed past it and . . .

"Jesus Christ."

Two more lay dead in the floor, and another sprawled on the desk. His body, Jason could only assume it had been a him, was sliced to hell. There was hardly a part of his body that wasn't oozing blood.

"What is it?" Bruce demanded.

Jason ignored him, wondering if the man Bruce was supposed to be taking care of was getting any care at all.

"If this is the shit Damians gonna pull one day," Tim said, walking up beside Jason. "Someone tell him to clean up. I thought assassins would be . . . sneakier than this?" Tim ignored the bodies and started pulling open cupboards in drawers in the office.

"It's less about sneak and more about flair." Jason commented.

"Is anyone going to update us?" Barbara asked.

"More bodies." Tim said. "No Dick. And, ah ha. Cameras."

"It's fresh," Jason added, toeing a body. A few hours at most. Jason was willing to bet sooner.

"Got something," Tim said from where he was clacking away. Jason abandoned the body moved to join him, reluctantly glad he'd brought the new Robin along. Computers weren't his thing.

The replay kicked on. "There." Tim said. "Two hours ago."

Dick.

He looked . . .

"Is he okay?" Bruce demanded over the comms.

"He looks like shit." Jason said.

Dick was in his Nightwing suit, but the front of it was already stained red. He stumbled into the building, a hand clutched his side as he took out the henchmen on his way it. Sticks. Fists. No swords. Dick knocked the men down but wasn't slicing them up. Tim was right. Someone else had dealt this damage.

Jason winced when Dick jumped and kicked a guy into a wall. With his gaping gunshot wound, that had to have hurt Dick more than the man. But still. Dick persisted. The camera showed Dick catching himself on the wall and pushing forward. He busted in the door and interrogated a man that Jason suspected was now dead on the desk. But Dick left without killing him.

"Here," Tim pulled the footage forwards. Dick was gone. The men in the hallway started to stir. Then, one after another, the cameras went dark. The last one, the room they were in, a shadow moved in the doorway, something hurtled towards the camera, then it too shorted out.

Even without the footage, Jason could guess what happened next.

"We just missed him." Jason muttered.

"Two hours isn't just missed."

"Fuck." Jason watched the scene play out again. Dick stumbling out and heading gods knows where, having gained god knows what information. "Fuck!" Jason yelled, snatching a paperweight off the desk and throwing it at the wall. "We got nowhere!"

"Not completely," Barbara said. "Tim, patch me in to their cameras."

"On it." Tim fiddled with the computer towers. Jason just wanted to break more stuff. He never should have left Dick. Should have hauled him over his shoulder and dropped his ass off at home. Or maybe a hospital.

Jason heard Bruce cuss through the comm.

"Told you he looks like shit." Jason said. His eyes flicked to the screen, which Barbara must be showing to Bruce by now. Jason had seen Dick earlier, he'd looked bad, but it was dark. How was he supposed to know how bad Dicks injuries were?

"Where is he?" Bruce growled through the comms. Jason honestly couldn't tell if it was more Bruce or Batman in that tone, all he knew was that the man sounded pissed. No, not pissed. Scared. Jason wondered if Bruce had felt half that fear when Jason died.

"I'm tracking him." Barbara said. "Regroup, gimme an hour, I'll find him."

Silence echoed from the comms and Jason had to assume Barbara had logged off to focus, and Bruce was probably punching shit.

Tim was on the floor, doing some detective shit. Jason didn't care. The detective bit was never his thing.

"He's awful worried about the golden child." Jason said casually, like his stomach wasn't doing a turn watching Dick on the camera. "Don't think the old mans ever been this worried about anyone before."

He felt Tims eyes on him, but refused to turn.

"I've seen him. . . like this, before." Tim said. "Four years ago, Bruce was . . . he was losing it."

Jason scoffed. "What made the old man go crazy?"

"Four years ago? His son died."

Jason snapped his head towards Tim, but the kid wasn't looking at him anymore. Wasn't even focused on his detective shit. Just trailing patterns in the blood on the floor with a finger.

"And Dick was, well, he was dealing with his own stuff. Anger at Bruce. Guilt for not being there for his brother. Grief. He wasn't in a place to help Bruce. So I did. I became Robin."

"You became Robin," Jason didn't like how dry his voice sounded. "To help Bruce? Are you insane?"

"Batman needs Robin," Tim said simply, pushing himself to his feet. "The second Robin understood that. I was just doing what needed to be done. I couldn't bring back the old one, and I could hardly fill his shoes," Tims gaze skittered to Jason for a moment before darting away again. "But I did what I could."

Jason felt the wood of the desk creak as he gripped it. He want to hit something. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run away and wash his hands clean of these people.

"So don't think Dick is special," Tim said. "Bruce grieved for you too." The statement was like a slap in the face. Then, as if to add insult to the injury, Tim slid his mask off his face and turned to him with a smile that didn't look entirely forced.

"I forgive you, you trying to kill me." Tim said. "I can't say the nightmares will go away, but, for our family, I think we need to set it aside."

"You're not my family." Jason hated his voice for betraying him, even through the helmet. Tim didn't look convinced, but he shrugged.

"Lets start with acquaintances then, huh?" He stuck out a hand. "Hi, I'm Tim Drake, the current Robin. Nice to meet you."

Jason stared at Tim so long he watched the kids smile waver into something like concern. Before he could fully process his actions, Jason had his helmet tucked under his arm and his hand in Tims. Tim looked just as surprised as he felt.

"Jason." Jason grumbled. "Not dead."

Tim released his hand and the smile on his face looked more genuine, as did the relief as he took a step back.,

"Pleasure. Well, they might not be your family, yet, but they are mine. Help me save them?"

Jason huffed, settling his helmet back on his head.

"Dick never could keep himself out of trouble."

----

The roof Bruce met with his boys on was shrouded in shadow, the perfect recon sight for some bats. Bruce shook his, glancing at Red Hood. He needed to stop thinking of Red Hood as Jason. Just because he was helping them find Dick didn't mean he was apart of the family again. Didn't mean he even wanted that.

Tim nodded to the building adjacent to them. "That's the address Barbara gave us," he said. "It's been quiet so far."

Bruce sized up the building. He opened his mouth to speak when a new voice came over the comm.

"Father."

Bruce stiffened. "Damian?"

"Would you like to explain to me why Grayson is not in his infirmary bed?"

"Damian," Bruce brought a hand to his face.

"I do not care if you would like to," Damian continued. "Grayson is missing and you are looking for him. I am joining you."

"You are not!" Bruce said. "Wherever you are-"

"I'll be there momentarily."

"Damian!"

Jason groaned and muttered something that sounded like "demon brat" as a shadow alighted on the roof beside them.

It was . . . Damian.

"What are you wearing?" Tim asked.

"My Robin costume." Damian said simply. It looked like it. Though none of the Robins had ever carried a sword like that before . . . "I will help you recover Grayson."

"His Robin-?" Tim glanced at Bruce, then at Damian. "How did you even find us?"

"Barbara told me." Damian said.

Suspicious silence echoed from the comms.

Jason crossed his arms. Bruce sighed.

"We will discuss this later," Bruce said.

"Yes we will." Damian agreed.

"But for now, you will stay on this roof while we-"

"No." Damian said. "I will handle the Leauge of Shadows who, as we speak, are approaching the area. You will recover Grayson."

"No-"

"Father," Damian clenched his fists, then let out a huffed breath and released them. "Grayson nearly died to save me. I can handle the League. I will help you."

Bruce hesitated. As ferocious as his son was, despite his upbringing, he was still just a kid.

"He can handle the League." Jason confirmed. Bruce jerked his head towards Jason, surprised. "Let him. They'll just be trouble if we're trying to battle Deathstroke on one side and the League on the other."

They were all just . . . kids. But Dick was out there bleeding somewhere, Jason tapped his fingers on his guns, Tim was poised and ready to go, and Damian looked determined to fight. . .

Bruce didn't have time for guilt or second guessing. He'd periodically been reminded how young his boys were, but . . . Reluctantly, Bruce gave a terse nod.

"We will talk about this later." He warned.

Satisfied, Damian joined them at the roofs edge, peering over.

"Are you sure this is the right building?" Damian asked.

An explosion lit up the interior, and screams rang out.

"Pretty sure." Jason muttered.

"Move." Bruce said. "Robin, Red Hood, with me. Damian . . ."

"On it."

They leapt to the street and the three of them darted into the building. Bruce glanced over his shoulder to see Damian, clad in the Robin costume, settling in front of the door, sword drawn, waiting.

"Leave him," Jason muttered. "You've done it before."

Bruce turned to snap at him, but Jason was already down the hallway after Tim. Bodies littered the hallway. Most of them groaning, all of them bleeding. Neither Tim nor Jason hesitated stepping over them, and Bruce followed. The door at the end of the hallway was swung open.

"-glad it's you to take the shot, Grayson." Deathstroke. "Though I'd recommend aiming a little to your left, you're drifting."

Bruce pushed his way into the room. Deathstrokes eye flicked past Dick to him.

"Ah," Deathstroke inclined his head. "The party poopers have arrived."

"Shut your stupid face." Jason snapped. He and Tim hovered by the door, but Bruce stepped forward.

"Nightwing," He said carefully. Dick stood lilting in the middle of the room, a gun pointed at Deathstroke. He had a hand wrapped around his waist, blood oozing between his fingers. He looked unfocused, but his gaze was focused stubbornly on Deathstroke.

Ignoring Deathstroke, Bruce stepped closer to Dick, putting out his hands, but not touching him.

"Nightwing, put down the gun." Bruce said.

"No," Dick rasped. "I'm not losing another brother."

"I'm not losing another son," Bruce insisted. "Put down the gun. Let us take you home."

"I can't let him live anymore. Not after everything he's done."

"He didn't kill Dami-"

"THAT'S NOT ALL HE'S DONE." Dick shouted.

In the silence that followed, Dicks heaving breaths, a question swirling in Bruce's mind. Now wasn't the time to ask it though.

"I should have killed him years ago." Dick said. "I didn't-" Dicks legs finally gave out and he collapsed. Bruce quickly knelt beside him, catching him before he could fall completely to the ground. Jason was at their side in an instant, but Dick raised the gun again, pointing it unsteadily at Deathstroke.

"That's not what we do," Bruce said. "We save lives. You save lives."

"Not all of them." Dick whispered.

"You're injured, Dick," Bruce said softly. "Let us help you."

Bruce reached out slowly for the gun, but Dick shook his head.

"No."

His grip spasmed more than an intentional pulling of the trigger. The gun clicked. It didn't fire. Jammed or empty, it didn't fire. Deathstroke stood looking unimpressed.

Dicks head lolled towards Bruce, giving him the most pitiful look Bruce had ever seen. Dick looked so hurt, so disappointed. So desperate.

"Let's get him out of here," Jason said, swooping down beside them and scooping Dick up easily in his arms and taking him from Dick. Tim was there, pulling the gun out of Dicks limp grip and guiding Jason out.

"Well, this has been a beautiful reunion." Deathstroke commented. Bruce turned his attention towards the man to see him near an open window, one leg swung out. "But I've really got to get going. My apologies for trying to kill the kid." He shrugged. "Gotta do what you gotta do, you know?"

Bruce clenched his fists. Deathstroke smiled, as if reading his mind.

"You can chase me," Deathstroke offered. "But you'll be abandoning Dick. Again. I wouldn't recommend that."

Again.

"What did you do to him?" Bruce asked.

Deathstroke chuckled. "Not my place to tell you," he said. "Ask the kid yourself."

He was gone. Bruce hesitated a moment longer, then swept after his boys.

The Batmobile was parked out front. Damian stood beside it, watching anxiously as Tim helped Jason slide into the back seat with Dick.

"I've got a ride." Damian said as Bruce approached. He nodded towards the shadows, where Bruce could barely see a reflection in the darkness. The League was holding back. Fucking Talia.

Bruce just nodded and slid into the drivers seat as Tim buckled in beside him. Bruce hit the gas, ignoring any and all driving laws or safety rules.

"Oracle," Bruce snapped. "Tell Alfred-"

"Way ahead of you." Barbara's voice sounded further away. "I'm on my way too. Meet you at the cave."

Bruce glanced in the mirror at Jason in the back with Dick. Jason had removed his helmet and he looked . . . soft. Softer than Bruce had ever seen him. One hand was pressing on Dicks wounds, a desperate attempt to keep any more blood from flowing, while the other carded through Dicks hair with a gentleness Bruce never would have suspected.

"Jason," Dick whispered. His eyes were unfocused, and Bruce wondered how much he was actually processing. "I'm sorry."

"You should be, dumbass." Jason muttered. "Making us come save you. It's-"

"No," Dick interrupted. "I'm sorry I didn't save you."

Jason froze, emotions crossing his face that Bruce couldn't decipher in the mirror.

"I should have been there." Dick muttered. "I wasn't. You died. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well," Jason said gruffly. "Worry about yourself dying, okay?"

"If it means I get to see you again," Dick said with a smile. "Then dying will have been worth it."

Bruce returned his gaze to the road and pressed harder on the gas, willing the car to move faster.

[dweemeister]

Flower Drum Song (1961)

M*A*S*H and Star Trek: The Next Generation have long been television favorites of mine. My parents introduced me to both shows – fixtures in American entertainment as Vietnamese refugee families fled to and renewed their lives in the United States. The writers of M*A*S*H, a show set during the Korean War, did not make it a secret that the show mirrored American involvement in the Vietnam War. M*A*S*H understandably focused its attention on its mostly white doctors, nurses, and non-coms. But from time to time, the show railed against war’s horrible effects on the local populace, on whose land such bloodshed is waged. In these episodes, M*A*S*H always cast Asian-American actors of varying ethnicities to play the Koreans (the value of these depictions of Koreans varies, but it is evident the all-white writing staff gave their best effort to portray Koreans in their full humanity). For a show that aired from 1971-1983, this was a radical decision as yellowface was still a widely-accepted practice in Hollywood. Star Trek, in its various incarnations, has espoused “Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations” from its inception. Numerous Asian-American recurring actors and guest stars of these shows have appeared in these shows I cherish (and many others) for decades. My memory flows with many of their faces and voices, even if I do not recall their names.

Adapted from C.Y. Lee’s novel of the same name, Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II’s musical Flower Drum Song debuted on Broadway in 1958. The musical resembled nothing currently on the Great White Way, with an almost entirely all-Asian cast. Yet this musical still caused consternation. Some Asian-Americans expressed their rightful disapproval towards Rodgers and Hammerstein’s patronizing dialogue and racially insensitive characterizations. For this film adaptation by Universal (this is the only Rodgers and Hammerstein film adaptation without 20th Century Fox’s involvement), screenwriter Joseph Fields – who collaborated with Hammerstein on Flower Drum Song’s book – made major adjustments in order to stem controversy. Fields rearranged the plot and soundtrack and, most importantly, rewrote more than half of Flower Drum Song’s dialogue in order to accomplish a more respectful (if still imperfect) portrayal of all the musical’s characters.

The reworked Flower Drum Song attracted a star-studded Asian-American cast. So many in this cast are actors and actresses I have known only through their guest or recurring television roles, maybe the odd extra in a movie. To see them act in non-denigrating roles, sing, and dance in a major Hollywood studio feature film was revelatory. I admit, while viewing Flower Drum Song, feeling pangs of frustration over how Hollywood’s structural racism precluded too many in this cast from stardom. But that frustration was overcome by joy – a joy in seeing these Asian-American actors display their talents in a fashion I, even in 2020, long to witness. Though still constrained by Rodgers and Hammerstein’s stereotypical views towards people of Asian descent, Flower Drum Song is a unique cinematic experience.

Mei Li (Miyoshi Umeki) and her father, Dr. Han Li (Kam Tong) have stowed away on a ship carrying them from their home in China to San Francisco. The Lis are here to complete Sammy Fong’s (Jack Soo) request for a mail-order bride. Sammy is the slick-talking owner of the Celestial Gardens nightclub, who just so happens to be in a relationship with his principal showgirl, Linda Low (Nancy Kwan). So when the Lis arrive at the nightclub, Sammy realizes the pickle he has put himself in. In his attempts to dissolve the marriage contract, he has the Lis take up residence with the Wang family – including patriarch Wang Chi-Yang (Benson Fong), Master Wang’s sister-in-law Madame Liang (Juanita Hall, a mixed-race actor of African-American and Irish descent, in yellowface), eldest son Wang Ta (James Shigeta), and younger son Wang San (Patrick Adiarte). Secretly, Sammy has convinced Madame Liang to allow Mei Li to fall naturally in love with Wang Ta. Meanwhile, Linda is flustered with Sammy after learning of his mail-order bride plans. They separate, and she soon begins to start dating Wang Ta. Wang Ta is also the object of affection of childhood friend and seamstress, Helen Chao (Reiko Sato). If you could not guess by now, the plot of Flower Drum Song revolves around complicated relationship polygons.

Actors also appearing in this film are Victor Sen Yung as the Celestial Gardens’ emcee, Soo Yong as Madame Yen Fong (Sammy’s mother; this role was to be played Anna May Wong, but she died before production began), and James Hong as the head waiter at the Celestial Gardens. Virginia Ann Lee and Cherylene Lee play Wang San’s girlfriend and the Wang family’s youngest daughter, respectively.

In this rewriting of Flower Drum Song, screenwriter Joseph Fields, there is a greater focus on generational conflict. This film adaptation is unclear when the story takes place. But by looking at some of the technology and mannerisms, I will guess sometime after World War II, probably the 1950s. In this rendition of San Francisco’s Chinatown, first-generation Chinese immigrants live alongside the second and third generations. This mix creates a tension that permeates across the film – from how characters dress, behave in public (if they even go out in public) and private settings, and most notably romantic expectations.

The depiction of this tension is simplistic: those are not American-born uphold as many traditions as they can; those who are American-born are “Chinese” to some extent, but mostly do not think much about Chinese traditions. You are either assimilated into American society or not, says Flower Drum Song – a troublesome generalization that persists in Asian-American subgroups whose history in the U.S. is not as long as Chinese-Americans. But, in a rare instance for a Golden Age Hollywood film, Fields assures that this adaptation does not mock the first generation for not being as “American” as they could possibly be. Assimilation is on the terms of the characters, not contrived societal norms. Another anomaly in Flower Drum Song: the younger generations are assertively American, rather than offshoots of their elders. The younger generations’ unaccented English, wide range of characterizations, and their incidental Asianness (in that they do not feel the need to announce their Asian or Chinese heritage to others or to the audience) is unusual for the time in which this film was released. At the very minimum, Flower Drum Song tries to normalize Asian-American personhood. When the film fails to uphold that, it is mostly because of preexisting issues. In those instances, Fields cannot write his way outside how Rodgers and Hammerstein had already presented Flower Drum Song on the Broadway stage without compromising the duo’s artistic intent.

Many of the actors involved are not Chinese-American, but the performances are sincere, whether comedic or dramatic*. Having seen only a few of his works, I now wonder whether James Shigeta was just so naturally charming. As the go-to Asian-American romantic lead in Hollywood (not that he was cast in such a role often), his performance is seamless, appearing almost effortless. The same could also be said for Nancy Kwan, fresh off her well-publicized cinematic debut in The World of Suzie Wong (1960). An alumnus of the Royal Ballet School in London, Kwan also shows off her fancy footwork multiple times. Kwan’s dancing mastery is without question and, paired with choreographer Hermes Pan (best remembered as Fred Astaire’s principal choreographic collaborator), showcases her talents. As Mei Li, Miyoshi Umeki is slightly hamstrung by her role’s characterization. Yet as one of two actors who reprised the role they originated on the Broadway stage (along with Juanita Hall as Madame Liang; Jack Soo also appeared on Broadway, but switched roles), I was convinced by Umeki’s emotional fragility and shyness – all this for a character who has just arrived in a foreign land, bewildered by what she sees.

For the M*A*S*H fan in me, there is a special delight seeing Jack Soo and Patrick Adiarte here. Soo, best known as Det. Nick Yemana in the sitcom Barney Miller and for his distinctive face, is the natural comedian in the cast. His delivery – physically, verbally – is fantastic in this film. Adiarte, who also starred as Prince Chulalongkorn in The King and I (1956; I had not made the M*A*S*H connection when I watched that film four years ago) has a solo dance number (“The Other Generation”) in Flower Drum Song that I was floored by due to his athleticism.

As lead choreographer on Flower Drum Song, Hermes Pan directs several dancing segments for the film, each one markedly different from the other. The three most notable dance numbers are “Grant Avenue”; “Fan Tan Fannie”, “Love, Look Away” (the first two include Nancy Kwan; the other includes Reiko Sato and James Shigeta). Alongside the production design by Alexander Golitzen (1940’s Foreign Correspondent, 1960’s Spartacus); Joseph C. Wright (1942’s My Gal Sal, 1953’s Gentlemen Prefer Blondes); and Howard Bristol (1940’s Rebecca, 1959’s Anatomy of a Murder) and the costume design by Irene Sharaff (1951’s An American in Paris, The King and I), the dances are built for Technicolor – even though the film’s Chinatown looks too obviously like a soundstage construction. The abstractions in “Love, Look Away” offer the best example of this choreographic-production design-costuming collaboration. The use of empty space, props suggesting physical divisions and other people, and the enormous dreamlike atmosphere position the scene to be a cinematic manifestation of Helen’s unrequited love for Wang Ta (notably, the dancing segment uses the melody of a song not sung for Helen, but for another). In its ethereal beauty, “Love, Look Away” is a marvelous several minutes of cinematic dance – appearing in a decade where such scenes would only become more rare.

The order of the Rodgers and Hammerstein songs has been rearranged drastically from the original Broadway production; one song (“Like a God”) was dropped entirely because Universal’s executives, “feared that a number in which a Chinese American man compares himself to a god might offend audiences in the American South.” Whatever. The exclusion of “Like a God” does not affect the film much, as this adaptation of Flower Drum Song is a substantially different creature than the stage version. Owing to the performances, the two most notable songs of the musical carry over to the movie. The self-assured anthem “I Enjoy Being a Girl” (Nancy Kwan dubbed by B.J. Baker; Kwan did not protest the dubbing, despite the fact she could sing) may not contain Kwan’s singing voice, but it does boast her charismatic performance.  In the film’s second half, “You Are Beautiful” has Shigeta’s and Umeki’s acting complement the former’s tender singing. But most of the songs – including two of the dance numbers when not considering the choreography (“Grant Avenue” and “Fan Tan Fannie”) – fail to leave an impression. Having Juanita Hall sing “Chop Suey” (an American Chinese dish) underlines the irony of having a non-white actor play someone of Asian descent.

In the Rodgers and Hammerstein repertoire, Flower Drum Song is among the least performed of their musicals. A 2002 revival with copious revisions remains the only production outside the musical’s Broadway and West End debuts – Flower Drum Song has not been on tour since the 1960s. It may not compare well musically, lyrically, and dramatically to Carousel, The King and I, or South Pacific, but it is miles better than the likes of State Fair. But the original production of Flower Drum Song, as written, is now considered offensive to contemporary sensibilities. As the preeminent musical theater compositional duo of their day (I would argue that they are the best in the medium’s history), Rodgers and Hammerstein – through The King and I and South Pacific and Flower Drum Song – intended through their stage musicals to break down the racial barriers that they abhorred. All three of these musicals incorporate ethnic and racial stereotypes that can never be stricken entirely from their film adaptations and subsequent musical revivals. Rodgers and Hammerstein’s intentions are well-meaning in their advocacy for cross-racial understanding, but their messages are muddled. Their work reflects a lack of racial sensitivity, at best.

The 1961 film adaptation of Flower Drum Song is the first major Hollywood studio movie to have a significant number of Asian-Americans as credited cast members since Go for Broke! (1951; a WWII film dramatizing the service of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team). Flower Drum Song ups the ante over Go for Broke! as it has an almost all-Asian cast – a feat not replicated again until The Joy Luck Club (1993) and then Crazy Rich Asians (2018). The environment in 1950s and ‘60s Hollywood excluded Asian-Americans in front of and behind the camera, so I can understand why there are only two films from that era with a majority-Asian cast. But I grade on a temporal curve. There is no excuse in modern Hollywood for the twenty-five-year separation between almost all-Asian casts. Are we to expect that the only Hollywood movies with nearly all-Asian casts/majority Asian casts in the future will be the sequels to Crazy Rich Asians?

For the longest time, Flower Drum Song was the one major Rodgers and Hammerstein musical I knew least about. I suspect, of the duo’s musicals that have been revived, it is the one in their repertoire that even self-professed theater buffs are least aware of. Being the only Rodgers and Hammerstein musical not distributed by 20th Century Fox does not help. Nor does the fact that its last home media release was on DVD in the 2000s. In 2008, Henry Koster’s Flower Drum Song was inducted into the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry. That honor marks the film as integral to the history of American cinema. As the constant writing of American cinematic history continues, as audiences become attuned to the history of non-white individuals in Hollywood, perhaps more people will see the importance of this movie. What would have happened if James Shigeta, Nancy Kwan, Miyoshi Umeki, Jack Soo, and their other co-stars were offered the same quality of opportunities of their white colleagues? We will never know. But Flower Drum Song can help the viewer envision the answer.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

* My sister will tell you that she does not believe that anyone in this film’s love polygon has a genuine mutual love. I agree. Mei Li’s love for Wang Ta appears genuine, but that is the extent of it.

[slaygentford]

5 shows meme

thanks @thegeminisage for starting this so that I can uhhhh procrastinate and thanks @tomasortega for reminding me 

rules: pick 5 shows, then answer the following questions, don’t cheat. tag 10 (or however many) people.

succession 

g*t 

rome hbo 

nbc kings

literally can't think of anything except outlander.

who is your favorite character in 2 (g*t)? none of them. this show sucks. actually wait oberyn because he was played by mister pedro and he died too soon for anyone to fuck him over 

who is your least favorite character in 1 (succession)? stewie... he’s so annoying and his name is stewie

what is your favorite episode of 4 (nbc kings)? PILOT PILOT PILOT PILOT that's the most ambitious network pilot ive ever seen 

what is your favorite season of 5 (outlander)? none of them. I wish I could wipe this show off the face of the earth. I wish I could step thru the stones and kill Diana gabaldon. if I had to pick it would be the s1 ONLY. for the s1 theme music. which is on my Sansa Stark playlist. 

who is your favorite couple in 3 (Rome hbo)? nobody @ me but ABSOLUTELY Livia and Octavian? their instant compatibility and recognition scene when they first meet stuck with me so much 

who is your favorite couple in 2 (g*t)? starting to wonder why I put g*t on here actually is it too late to change my responses. theon/sansa had me going there for a min tho 

what is your favorite episode of 1 (succession)? both season finales are phenom but honestly the one with the dinner party where Logan makes the 3 men he suspects of treason crawl on the floor and oink like pigs and the writer said he took inspiration from Stalin’s dinner parties where he’d get his generals drunk and extract blackmail material........ fuck. close second is the Kendall suicide wall ep 

what is your favorite episode of 5 (outlander)? honestly the only part of this show I could stand was KING Tobias Menzies switching effortlessly between blackjack Randall and what’s his name her first husband. Tobias Menzies hive STAY WINNING 

what is your favorite season of 2 (g*t) ? season one was genuinely such good television and the construction of the pilot in particular is bomb.... this being said there does exist the original, pre-doctored pilot which was so bad they recast almost everyone and completely rewrote it. and I will say that is something I would like to see.  

how long have you watched 1 (succession)? I TRIED to watch it when it began and couldn’t stand it but once I was able to get into it I watched it all in like 2 weeks.... as you all witnessed 

how did you become interested in 3 (Rome hbo)? its the only tv show about the ancient world that isn’t Spartacus 

who is your favorite actor in 4 (nbc kings)? motherrfuckin Ian mcshane babey

which do you prefer, 1 (succession), 2 (g*t), or 5 (outlander)? this is literally a joke question obviously succession 

which show have you seen more episodes of, 1 (succession) or 3 (Rome hbo )? they both have I think 20-23 episodes but I've rewatched Rome at LEAST four times and succession only once 

if you could be anyone from 4 (nbc kings), who would you be? OBVIOUSLY farm boy David coming to the big city and being drawn into a sexy evil family 

would a crossover between 3 (Rome hbo) and 4 (nbc kings) work? actually almost yes bc nbc kings is in a speculative biblical future and Rome hbo is in a speculative, narrowly pre-biblical past..... I Would Like To See It gif 

pair two characters in 1 (succession) who would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple? LMAO ROMULUS/GERRI ALREADY EXISTS..... 

overall, which show has the better storyline, 3 (Rome hbo) or 5 (outlander)? I can’t believe I'm about to say this either but s2 of Rome was such a shitshow pacing wise and outlander is much more consistently written...............like they know their demographic and take their time and I can’t fault them that........

which has the better theme music, 2 (g*t) or 4 (nbc kings)? KING ramin vs Chopin? fuck off I can’t make that choice...... actually I can. king ramin

[dedalvs]

Does it bother you that your work (or at least the work you’re best known for) is to supplement other people’s creations and not your own?

I guess this question would be more appropriate for an actor, since nothing they ever do is their own. Of course everyone working in Hollywood knows this and doesn’t care. There are hundreds of people that work on every single television show and movie. There may be only a handful of people that get the praise or blame for any given project, but nothing that anyone sees is free of influence from someone other than the creator. The very notion is kind of up in the air. Look at Defiance, for example. The original “creator”—the one who came up with the names “Stahma” and “Datak”, for example—never wrote an episode of the show (this is Rockne O’Bannon). He gets credit for co-writing the pilot episode, but what happened was he wrote the pilot then left the show—and then a new showrunner (Kevin Murphy) came on and rewrote the pilot. And the whole thing was an adaptation, anyway, of a property developed by a video game company, Trion. I guess no one who worked on the show really created anything, if I’m following the logic of the ask correctly, since it was all done to supplement Trion’s game. I don’t think anyone working on the show cared much about that fact.

This is one of the main differences between Hollywood and, say, fiction writing. Everyone working in Hollywood looks at each endeavor as a team project, whereas writers write a book that others help them with (i.e. this publisher is publishing my book; this artist is doing the cover art for my book; this publicist is working to advertise my book, etc.). You can see the difference in attitude when it comes to language creation. A producer/director hears about language creation and says, “Ooh, cool! We’ll have to hire someone to do that!” A fiction writer hears about language creation and says, “Ooh, cool! I should do that! I’m probably great at it!” (Or alternately, “Oh, brother… I guess now I have to do that too so my readers don’t complain…”)

Anyway, there are lots of different aspects to this question, so let me try to address all of them.

First, in case it’s ever seemed like I’ve indicated otherwise, I really love what I do. I may not like deadlines, and translation is not my favorite aspect of language creation (and translation constitutes 90% of my job), but there’s really very little difference between what I’m doing now and what I was doing ten years ago, vis-à-vis conlanging. Really, the major differences are that there are deadlines, I get paid, and some people outside the conlanging community care about what I do. It’s still language creation. It’s always fun to come up with a new project, and I’m certainly doing that more now than I would have been otherwise. So the simplest answer is no.

I guess, though, you might think I was just putting on a positive face publicly…? I mean, no. In creating a language, there always has to be some pretext—some reason for the language to exist. If you’re creating a language you want to use in your own life, the pretext is very simple: I want to use this language in my life, therefore I’m creating it. The pretext is less simple when creating a naturalistic language. After all, if I’m creating a language for my daily personal use, why would I bother with a fictional history and sound changes, etc.? I’d just create something simple whose sound I like and whose grammar corresponds to what I find easiest to use. For those of us who find naturalistic conlanging interesting, though, the pretext is a necessity. I never liked conworlding or conhistories (or fantasy, to be honest), so in the early days when I would conlang, I’d basically pretend like I had a conworld/conculture, when in fact I didn’t. Really, though, what that amounted to was that I had a lazy conculture: One I didn’t think too much about and didn’t write down. It’s funny. The same attitude a lot of writers have about conlanging (that it’s a timesink that takes away from their story) is the attitude I had about conculturing. Once I realized what a huge role that plays in the lexicon, though, I came to think of it as a necessary evil. And if I had a language project I was really excited about, I would frankly find it very daunting to have to come up with an entire world and people and systems of government and clothing, etc. Seemed like a drag, to be honest.

Creating languages for other stuff is great because I can cut out all that nonsense and let someone else do it. The resultant culture may not be very good (”Oh, sure, that social model is totally sustainable! I’m 100% sure that patriarchal fantasy is super realistic!”), but (and this is the important part) I didn’t have to do it—and I don’t have to take credit for it. Instead, I can just play around with the language. It’s just delightful!

Like right now, for example, I’m running this D&D campaign, and it is so exhausting to have to come up with every single little detail! It’s fun to act out the characters, and there are other parts I like (like coming up with flags and names), but figuring out exactly how many towns and of what size there should be in a given area is just too much! My hat is off to all DMs out there. It’s a lot of work!

Anyway, as for what I’m known for (the parenthetical part of the ask, which may be the main part of it), I might have had a different answer ten years ago, but now, I honestly do not care. I figure if someone cares about anything else I’ve done ever they’ll find it. Those that don’t, why would I care what they think? About anything? I don’t know them. I’ll probably never meet them. And honestly, have you seen some of the stuff that people talk about wrt conlanging? “What’s a better ConLang: Gallifreyan or Tengwar?” The ones who only know me for what I’m best known for are probably not very discerning. But if they don’t care, why should I?

It took suffering through the George W. Bush economy for me to really figure out what I want in life, but I did, and it’s fairly simple. I want to spend as much of my life as possible financially stable and with my friends and family—while pursuing my interests. Previously I thought I also wanted my friends and family to also care about my interests, but I’ve come to learn that that actually isn’t important to me either. No one else needs to care about what I do so long as I think it’s worth my time and effort. Honestly, with the internet and digital file storage, if there’s someone out there who desperately wants to know every little thing I’ve ever done in my life, that will likely be possible. It’s not like last century: That stuff will probably be available indefinitely (barring societal collapse).

Even if you filter all this out and just focus on language creation, I care much more about the status of conlanging in general than I do what I’m known for or not. It bothers me that it’s been almost ten years and neither Hollywood nor the general public really gets conlanging. It’s gotten better, but since conlanging has gotten a lot of widespread attention, it’s also amplified the ignorance. I feel like I get the same questions over and over again and give the same answers over and over again but there’s still the basic assumption that the quality of a conlang is equivalent to the fame of the conlang. I guess language itself is always going to be something that’s fairly opaque, but it just bugs me that very few people have any idea what they should be looking for in a conlang. It’s like watching someone pick up one of Picasso’s really abstract pieces and also a drawing by a four year old and trying to judge which one is more realistic by comparing the colors in each one to the colors of the shirts worn by their family members in the pictures in their iPhone photo album. Like you can try to say, “Hey, maybe realism isn’t the best thing to look for in either of these,” but there’s just so much nonsense in here that why would you even bother?

The only thing that gives me hope (and not just about this, but in general) is that the younger generation seems really amazing. I’ve said that before about the generation before the youngest generation (I think there’ve been two since me…? I honestly don’t even know how you count these things), but honestly, it gives me hope every day seeing the amazing things that even teenagers are doing. It’s an awesome thing to witness. If you’re a part of the 25 and younger crowd, you should feel really good about what you’ve done and the lives you’ve led thus far. (And that’s an in general type thing. If you’re 26, you didn’t miss the cutoff, or anything.) From someone who went to school in the 80s and 90s, do you know how cool it is just to see teenagers be cool about friends and classmates that are LGBT+? Because that so didn’t happen when I was in school. That’s what you did by just living your lives the way you’re living them. That’s awesome. Really makes me believe that we can actually fix the things we (my generation) were told had already been fixed in the 90s.

Not sure how I got there, but I hope that answers your question. Again, the tl;dr answer is no—no matter which way you meant it.

[ethanalter]

'The Girlfriend Experience' Season 2 talks money, politics, and Trump

Louisa Krause and Anna Friel in ‘The Girlfriend Experience’ (Photo: Starz)

The first season of The Girlfriend Experience adapted and expanded upon the 2009 Steven Soderbergh film. Season 2 of the Starz series, premiering Nov. 5, takes its cue from another Soderbergh joint — the director’s Washington D.C.-set HBO series, K Street. Debuting to great fanfare in 2003, that show has mostly fallen into obscurity now, available only on an increasingly dwindling supply of DVDs. But writer/director Lodge Kerrigan tells Yahoo Entertainment that K Street absolutely provided a reference point as he started to plan out his portion of The Girlfriend Experience‘s second year, which also takes place in the nation’s capital and explores the nexus between the personal and the political.

“He was kind of ahead of his time,” Kerrigan says of Soderbergh’s K Street techniques, which included having actors interact with real-world political figures like James Carville and Howard Dean. “It tried to get narrative close to documentary.”

No politicians appear on camera in The Girlfriend Experience, but the current powers that be in D.C. are specifically name-checked, up to and including Donald Trump. Kerrigan reveals that he rewrote his storyline — which takes place a few months ahead in our own future, around the time of the 2018 mid-term elections — after the Republican candidate achieved an extremely narrow victory in the race for the Oval Office. And the series reflects the profound public cynicism with the political system that’s set in since that divisive election. (It’s not at all coincidental that The Girlfriend Experience is premiering Nov. 5, almost a year to the day since Election Night.)

“I’ve always believed that democracy is a very thin veneer and really the country is run by money and has been run by money for maybe centuries,” Kerrigan says. “The level of open corruption now is really kind of shocking. You can see clearly how much money has influenced politics.”

Lodge Kerrigan, the writer/director of the ‘Erica & Anna’ storyline of ‘The Girlfriend Experience’ (Photo: Starz)

And money certainly plays a leading role in “Erica & Anna,” alongside actual stars, Anna Friel and Louisa Krause. Friel portrays the Erica half of the titular duo, who oversees a Republican super PAC willing to go to extreme lengths to see their preferred candidates in office. That’s what leads her to hire Krause’s high-end escort, Anna, in an attempt to ensnare a big fish donor.

But Erica — who recently ended a relationship — may be looking for her own girlfriend experience as well. “Lodge was very specific about not wanting to use labels like, ‘Erica’s a lesbian,'” Friel says. “This relationship just happens to be with a woman.” As the former Pushing Daises star points out, she has her own personal history with intense female relationships: in 1994, when she was a teenage star on the Channel 4 series Brookside, she and co-star Nicola Stephenson shared the first-ever lesbian kiss to air on a British soap opera. “To this day, it’s still the most-asked for photography, because it was such a huge thing at the time! It was even used in the London Olympics opening ceremony directed by Danny Boyle, because it was part of British pop culture history,” she says.

As in the first season, the sexual content in The Girlfriend Experience goes well beyond a lip-lock. The first episode, for example, opens with Anna visiting a male client who gets off on getting rough with her. “For me, it was pretty easy because it’s part of my character’s job description,” Krause says of playing those emotionally-charged moments. “It’s even in the stage directions. I created my own origin story for Anna and each of the people she has to satisfy.” Among the details she slipped into Anna’s biography — and which aren’t directly referenced in the show — is her love of Disney movies (particularly Cinderella) and that her all-time favorite song is the 4 Non Blondes favorite “What’s Up.” Krause even dreamed up the scenario that she thinks led Anna into the world of providing girlfriend experiences: “In my head, she ended up sleeping with a visiting professor at her college who introduced her to that world, so she never finished school. I love using my imagination for that stuff.”

Friel and Krause in ‘The Girlfriend Experience’ (Photo: Starz)

When it comes to who holds the power in their onscreen relationship, both actresses agree that they imagine Erica to be the one who’s in control of where things are heading. “She’s the person that Anna falls for,” Krause says. “The business transaction of love suddenly turns into a very real thing for her. She’s got to navigate new emotional territory with this woman who fascinates her.” At the same time, Friel suggests that there will be some reversals along the way. “The dynamic will change consistently, and you’ll just keep being shocked by that. Erica has been the submissive one in her past relationship, so she almost treats Anna as she’d been treated. She’s very cold and suppressed, and I think that’s her covering up her vulnerability.”

Unlike The Girlfriend Experience‘s first season, which told one story over 13 episodes, this edition has parallel storylines that each run for 7 installments and deliberately don’t intersect. While Kerrigan wrote and directed every episode of “Erica & Anna,” his collaborator Amy Seimetz oversaw “Bria,” which stars Carmen Ejogo as an escort that enters the Witness Protection Program. (Starz is airing one episode from each storyline back-to-back each week.) “We really wanted to push the boundaries of the format of television,” Kerrigan says of this unusual structure. “Amy and I were excited by the idea that as the show progresses, the format progresses. And really, it’s a conversation; there’s some mirroring that’s going on. There are no direct crossovers, but you can definitely see connections between the two storylines.”

And one of those connections involves how the Trump era is directly impacting both our political system and women’s individual liberties. “You’ll never see [Trump] in the show,” Kerrigan says. “But there are references to him throughout.”

The Girlfriend Experience airs Sundays at 9 p.m. on Starz.

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