#they'd probably make way more than that difference in concessions

[essektheylyss]

How is Alamo Drafthouse not running an organized Barbieheimer double feature. Like as a business move. There's not one near me so it's irrelevant to my life one way or another but like. if ANYONE was gonna run an organized double feature in theaters, they're the folks.

[violet-moonstone]

the MCU's rhetoric about political resistance/change is often so insidious. the only time we see people who want to change the status quo, theyre destructive and often incapable of feeling compassion for anyone outside of the group theyre fighting for. so the only two options are siding with the cruel antagonist who wants real change and the heroes who will make small concessions so that the audience feels good but ultimately they uphold the harmful status quo. I'm not saying this doesn't happen in real life, but when a trope pretty much becomes the default, you start to see the writer's political messages coming out. ESPECIALLY when the primary threat comes from exploited working class people/oppressed minorities and not the colonialist powers and corporations that put them in that position.

sidenote: when i watched black panther 2 and realized that the primary conflict was going to be black people fighting indigenous people and that western hegemony and exploitation of resources was just a side plot, I immediately lost all hope for that film. I loved the music, the visuals and the fight scenes, but the writing?? i was so disappointed. All the dissatisfaction I felt from Black Panther 1 came flooding back. Before they were pitting us against each other, this time it was against another oppressed group...hhhhhhh. anyway jokes on me for expecting different. I really just need to read The Deep (and if its anything like the song its based on, its probably much better executed than wakanda forever).

anyway, yes, the audience has the freedom to see things with nuance but i dont think most people will (because "its just a fun superhero move, why are you taking it so seriously?"), and I dont think the writers want them to - otherwise they'd start including more nuanced characters rather than villains who we are shown have to be defeated for the greater good, no matter how valid their arguments may be. and I understand that the vast majority of people are not watching superhero movies looking for nuance and depth but thats all the more reason why so much of the MCU's writing is concerning. Every time we're faced with a troubling political/ecological debate, the conclusion is that whoever tried to change things was in the wrong, and we'll make a small concession at the end so everyone feels somewhat satisfied and doesn't really have to confront any uncomfortable implications.

ex: infinity war shows us Thanos' eco fascism as the main (and only?) criticism of the overconsumption of resources. I may be wrong but I don't remember anyone talking about sustainability as vital solution or anything...and in FATWS the conversation is STILL about the pros and cons of the Snap - not anything to do with sustainability...because that would require the audience to be confronted with real life political implications that are bit too close to home. Even to have one or a few characters suggest an alternative and for Thanos to shoot it down because he doesn't trust people to be sustainable, and because he truly thinks killing people is the best possible plan (which makes no sense btw because it implies that all species are overpopulated at the same and that every single species in the universe consumes resources in the same way..they made movie!Thanos *seem* so intelligent but his thought process literally makes no sense. and fans bend over backwards to justify it because "hes the mad titan" even though you clearly cant use that defense based on the way he's written in the film. The writers clearly want us to see him as rational but cruel...anyway its not 2018 so let me stop beating the dead horse of this tired topic)

basically, theres rarely (if ever) a middle between the two extremes, because theres no room for that. There has to be a good guy and a bad guy...perhaps a well intentioned and misguided bad guy, but ultimately still a bad guy. The options are: pretty much nothing but minor things change and the problem still exists OR everything changes but it would require the violent villain getting their way and killing innocent people in the process.

anyway thank god for the spiderverse , which actually does the opposite (and thank god spiderverse is not directly part of the MCU and the writers actually have something to say). I think the loki show may be doing something similar but im not caught up so idk. loki to me feels like spiderverse but with less narrative cohesion

[unicyclehippo]

Prompt idea? Jester talking to Yasha about "realizing things", as a young/newly queer person wanting advice/acceptance from an older wlw ("whats it like- having a wife?"), and maybe conflicted feelings re beau bc on one hand jes doesnt want to get between beau and yasha if they'd make each other happy but on the other hand she is jealous and isnt her own happiness worth fighting for too??

‘what’s it like - having a wife?’ jester asks. nearly immediately regrets it when the other woman jerks, eyes darting to hers, wide and surprised. ‘i’m sorry,’ she’s quick to say, shaking her head quickly, enough to make her jewellery jangle as the movement tosses them against her curling horns. ‘that’s not - it’s probably the worst thing to ask you right now, and, i mean, you look busy—‘

yasha looks down at her empty hands, around at the largely empty room, and back to jester, eyebrows raised. ‘i am not busy.’

‘oh.’

‘would you,’ yasha swallows hard. gestures toward the other piece of furniture in her room beside the bed, a solid chair. ‘do you want...to sit?’

‘um.’ jester glances behind her, down the empty hallway to the closed door of the room she shares with beau. ‘yes. sure, yes.’

‘you don’t have to if -‘

‘i want to!’

yasha seems to recoil a little at the very forceful show of what was supposed to be casual. she nods. arranges herself awkwardly as though they are about to have an interview, and jester wonders if maybe she’s afraid. just afraid would be bad enough but afraid of what jester might ask, might do because of her answers? that feels bad.

jester forces herself to relax. she closes the door and takes the seat, folds her legs criss-cross and plays for a minute with her skirts, getting the pleats to sit just so.

‘have you been sleeping better?’ jester asks, voice breaking the silence. yasha doesn’t flinch this time, but jester thinks that might be because she’s holding herself too tight and still. like a perfect alabaster statue.

‘ah. yes. caduceus came by with some tea,’ yasha says. ‘he...says some very strange things,’ she adds a little hesitantly, unsure if she’s allowed to comment on his strangeness when she—has done what she has done.

‘oh yeah, he’s great, isn’t he?’

yasha nods.

it’s a bit dizzying, actually, to be watched so intently by yasha. her gaze hasn’t fallen since jester entered the room, and she watches each small motion of jester—the way she brushes her hair behind her ears, the way her tail curls, the way she fiddles awkwardly with the rings on her fingers—but jester isn’t sure how much of it is the other woman understanding that she feels incredibly deeply nervous or, or off-kilter or strange, and how much is yasha watching out for an attack. the intensity is one thing. yasha’s dual coloured eyes are another. jester finds her own attention split between them.

‘we weren’t married for long.’ yasha jerks when jester does. ‘i’m sorry—did you, still want to know?’

‘only if you want to talk about it!’ jester insists.

‘i—don’t mind.’

‘i don’t ever want to make you do something you don’t want to do!’ jester says that forcefully, entirely on purpose. yasha needs to know, she needs to know, jester would never—

‘jester,’ yasha says, her voice low and soothing. her accent breaks jester’s name in two, each spoken with infinite fondness, gentleness. ‘everything is okay.’

for once, jester doesn’t reply to that. sometimes she denies it sadly, other times agrees fervently, but now she just sits in it. yasha is right, more or less. they got her back. killed the Hand. killed obann. things are better than they have been for a long time.

‘we were married at dawn,’ yasha tells her. ‘it was...not romantic. except that it was her, and we were getting married.’ jester can’t sit alone on her chair; she hurries across the room to sit next to yasha on the bed, brings her knees up to her chest, chin resting on them as she listens, bright eyed. ‘okay,’ yasha says, and shifts accordingly. turning her body toward jester and crossing her legs. ‘when you are married in the tribe, you, ah, you make offerings to distract evil spirits from you, so they are not watching, will not curse your union. i delivered a great sacrifice,’ yasha says, almost sounding like she’s trying to convince jester or herself of it. ‘but it mustn’t have worked.’

‘i’m sorry, yasha.’

the woman shrugs. ‘i don’t—there are some things that are missing still. from my memory. but if you have questions...’

‘i don’t know,’ jester admits. maybe she should have written some down. maybe she should figure out why she’s so interested in the first place. probably because if she knows how marriage is supposed to work, why it works, why it is good, she can get the gentleman and her mama back together and they can live happily ever after. or maybe—

‘is this—‘ yasha looks like she has bitten her tongue but she continues very carefully, very quietly. ‘about beau?’

jester plays it very very cool. ‘what? no? why would - did she - why would this be about beau? that’s totally ridiculous and not at all something i am thinking about.’ as she rambles, super convincingly, she starts to wonder herself if maybe she isn’t being entirely...truthful. ‘is it?’

‘i don’t know,’ yasha shrugs. ‘is it?’

jester frowns down at the blanket on yasha’s bed. plucks at It where it is frayed and works for a few minutes at mending those small rips. ‘she—‘ nearly died, jester thinks but doesn’t say, because that, despite the mind control, that was yasha. jester wants to cry all of a sudden. when had things become so difficult? when had she started to think seven steps ahead in a conversation to make sure she didn’t upset, didn’t offend, didn’t hurt her friends? it feels like a cage pressing in around her and she sucks in a shaky breath.

‘jester?’

‘i’m okay.’

‘no.’ yasha—so carefully that jester wonders if the woman thinks she is fragile, about to crack into shards at a too-heavy touch—sets her hand on jester’s. the little mending magic fizzles out with the jolt of surprise, fibres and threads of blanket untwisting and snapping apart once more. ‘you can talk to me, jester. i am—not weak.’ there’s a charge that flickers, over her fingers and behind yasha’s eyes. ‘you are my friend. whatever you say, we can...figure it out.’

it isn’t a question but it almost feels like one. like with the gesture yasha has reached out on two levels, both with hands extended, and is asking for her trust. and jester’s trust is small now and bruised and scratched but she hands it over regardless.

‘she died,’ jester says, flat and pained. ‘or nearly did. and i was so scared.’

yasha nods. ‘you are scared when any of them—us,’ she corrects after a moment, ‘falls. is she...different?’

‘yes,’ jester says, no need to think. ‘she’s my best, my first best friend.’

yasha hums. her expression is blank of judgement but there is a faint air to her like she remains...unconvinced.

jester falters. ‘she’s my best friend, isn’t she?’

‘yes.’ yasha squeezes her hand. ‘tell me, jester, do you think of her first in the morning?’

‘well...yeah. we’re roommates, she’s the first person i see.’

yasha shakes her head. ‘before that. before you even open your eyes.’

jester frowns. yasha seems to be hinting at something, the meaning of which slides sneakily away each time jester tries to grasp it, to find what it looks like, what it feels like, what it is.

‘she snores, so i hear her.’

yasha nods. ‘okay. well. when you are doing, mm, fun things like—‘ she blanks for a moment and then says, hesitantly, ‘dancing?’

‘i love to dance!’

‘okay, when you are dancing, who do you want to be dancing with you?’

jester squints suspiciously. yasha seems to be hinting that she thinks jester’s answer will be beau. and the thing is, of course it is beau! beau would make an amazing dance partner? that’s just natural? she’s taller than jester and strong and lean, with the build of a dancer and when she fights she has the grace of one too. she’s also great at leading and not leading, so that wouldn’t be a problem if jester got carried away and jumped into lead when maybe she shouldn’t. jester explains all of this very matter of factly to yasha, who just nods again.

‘and when you are bored?’

‘nott is very funny,’ jester is quick to point out. ‘and fjord has the best stories of sailing, and caduceus knows so much about so much, and you of course,’ she adds, just to see yasha smile.

it works. yasha smiles very fondly down at her and says, ‘and beau?’

‘beau, no, she isn’t good for boredom.’

‘why not?’

‘because she—‘ because i’m not bored with her, jester thinks. and just shrugs instead. if she thinks the small concession will halt the questions yasha asks, these big seemingly easy but oddly confusing questions, she is wrong.

‘what is your favourite colour? what do you give beau when she is hurt? does she make you laugh? do you want to make her laugh? has sh ever given you a gift? who do you want to be with when you are sad?’

‘that’s too much!’ jester cuts her off, oddly anxious. she jumps off the bed, hurries to put a few yards between them.

yasha doesn’t move to follow, but she watches jester go with a soft expression jester doesn’t recognise.

‘i...thank you for talking to me, yasha,’

‘it was like being more than myself,’ she says before jester makes it to the door. her voice is louder, warmer, richer, and when jester glances back at her, she sees that soft expression has morphed to something...peaceful. deeply sad, but peaceful. ‘i always heard it was two halves of a soul—the man and the woman, joined together. united, a match. but when i met zuala, when we met again and again and spoke, and laughed, and danced,’ yasha’s breath catches and she begins to cry. her eyes close. ‘it was more than myself, what we had. perhaps it was two halves joining, but it never felt like that.’

‘what did it feel like?’ jester whispers when yasha is silent for a short while.

‘terrifying. wonderful.’

‘terrifyingly wonderful?’ jester suggests.

yasha opens her eyes. the tears have leaked a little, spilling down her cheeks, and her eyes—watery, washed out—are clear and bright. ‘she made me very happy, in a time where that was very difficult,’ is all yasha says, and though she doesn’t send jester away, jester can hear that she needs some time.

she steps out with a quiet ‘thank you’ and closes the door behind her. leans back against it. lets out a long, slow breath.

she is still there when beau climbs the stairs, hair slicked with sweat and skin glistening, mottled with purpling bruises. beau grins, lifts a hand.

‘hey.’ her eyes flicker to the door behind jester. ‘everything alright?’

jester stares for a moment. beau is handsome and beautiful—hot, she thinks beau would insist upon—and so much more, and some of yasha’s questions make a lot of sense all of a sudden in a big, important, kinda scary way.

‘jes?’

‘yes. yes, everything is great. just a little chat.’

beau doesn’t look convinced, but she nods anyway. ‘okay.’