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MULTIFANDOM POST OF FLAIL
1. Dirty Sexy Money. UGH. I am going through Season 1 of Dirty Sexy Money and I HATE HER. I HATE HER SO MUCH. I'm on Episode 7 and I don't understand why she is being set up to be the forbidden romantic interest of the married main character when there is NOTHING LIKEABLE ABOUT HER. It's just confusing storytelling. I thought Karen was written to be annoying on purpose and that the viewer to hate her, but now she is desired by the moral center of the show? I don't understand why ANYONE would desire Karen Darling, want to redeem her, or write fic about her explaining why she is the way she is. If I look into her head, I would find, "I fail at life because I never had to work at anything."
. The rest of the characters are okay I guess, though I ADORE the twins. (Where is the Jeremy/Juliet fic, guys??) I may or may have not drabbled Jeremy&Juliet when I was bored in class.
2. I kind of miss writing in a fandom that's set in the present day, 'cos then I can just let loose with dialogue and references and not have to check whether they're anachronistic or not. I would maybe minimize moments of "Wait, did I just accidentally write Christian allegory?" I want to write about airport lounges, Greyhound buses, fast food, and falling asleep in front of the TV.
I pretty much should just start writing originals again and write WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT.
3. The Secret Garden. Thoughts on Susan Moody's Return to the Secret Garden are
It was disappointing. I'm not surprised that it is, but I hoped it wouldn't be.
Things I Like
- BOTH times when Mary and Dickon finally have sex. The build-up was more or less effective enough to make me think "OMG JUST FUCK ALREADY!" MARY/DICKON ZOMG.
- Mary being initially confounded by sex
- Mary being disillusioned in India (Basil included)
- Colin having a new aspiration every week
Things That Could've Been Better Handled, But Wasn't, With Less Than Compelling Results
- Sociopolitical commentary on the World Wars and class struggle. She was trying to put The Secret Garden in a context of the British and European politics of its day. I'm down for putting canon in a new context, 'cos hey, that's what fic is all about, but Moody's execution just felt forced.
- Barney whathisname, the soldier who had a crush on Mary's mother, channeling his lust to Mary. Again with the feeling forced.
- Mary's child being a Marty Stu, ugh.
Good ideas but inconsistent writing quality. 6.5/10!
. In short, MARY/DICKON 4EVAAAAAAAAA. To conclude,
4. Heroes. I just watched the new Heroes and MAN, everyone is TOTALLY SEXING EACH OTHER. TOTALLY. Especially all of the Petrellis (including Claire), though that's nothing new. I mean, it pretty much begins with Peter and Claire sexing, but eventually it gets to Peter and Nathan sexing because IT ALWAYS DOES.
I approve of Mohinder/Maya. I APPROVE OF MOHINDER. Someone break me off a piece of THAT, omg. I always knew you had it in you. You were already too pretty for words, AND THEN YOU TOOK OFF YOUR SHIRT. AND I DIED. MOHINDER, YOU ARE TOO HOT FOR WORDS. Also, your superpower is that you are Spiderman, lolz.
OH, AND THEN THERE IS HIRO AND ANDO. Who compare themselves to Batman and Robin. I MEAN, COME ON.
Everyone on Heroes <333333333!!!! Except Claire, who is dumb as a post.
, yeah. I'm tempted to get sucked into the Heroes fandom, but what I REALLY should be doing is homework.
. The rest of the characters are okay I guess, though I ADORE the twins. (Where is the Jeremy/Juliet fic, guys??) I may or may have not drabbled Jeremy&Juliet when I was bored in class.
2. I kind of miss writing in a fandom that's set in the present day, 'cos then I can just let loose with dialogue and references and not have to check whether they're anachronistic or not. I would maybe minimize moments of "Wait, did I just accidentally write Christian allegory?" I want to write about airport lounges, Greyhound buses, fast food, and falling asleep in front of the TV.
I pretty much should just start writing originals again and write WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT.
3. The Secret Garden. Thoughts on Susan Moody's Return to the Secret Garden are
It was disappointing. I'm not surprised that it is, but I hoped it wouldn't be.
Things I Like
- BOTH times when Mary and Dickon finally have sex. The build-up was more or less effective enough to make me think "OMG JUST FUCK ALREADY!" MARY/DICKON ZOMG.
- Mary being initially confounded by sex
- Mary being disillusioned in India (Basil included)
- Colin having a new aspiration every week
Things That Could've Been Better Handled, But Wasn't, With Less Than Compelling Results
- Sociopolitical commentary on the World Wars and class struggle. She was trying to put The Secret Garden in a context of the British and European politics of its day. I'm down for putting canon in a new context, 'cos hey, that's what fic is all about, but Moody's execution just felt forced.
- Barney whathisname, the soldier who had a crush on Mary's mother, channeling his lust to Mary. Again with the feeling forced.
- Mary's child being a Marty Stu, ugh.
Good ideas but inconsistent writing quality. 6.5/10!
. In short, MARY/DICKON 4EVAAAAAAAAA. To conclude,
It was nearly three months since the telegram had arrived announcing that Dickon was missing and there had been no further news. She knew Colin was still mourning him: so, indeed, was she. But she needed a change. Everything had been so dreary while the war dragged on. For far too long she had felt as old as the moors round Misselthwaite, and the limited chances for gaiety offered by the Yorkshire social scene only added to that feeling. But she was nearly nineteen and she wanted to be young, to be like the girls whose exploits she read about in the society pages of the newspapers, the girls who were rebelling against the stuffy conventions of their parents, who belonged to the smart sets, like those who surrounded the Prince of Wales or Lady Diana Cooper. She longed to smoke Turkish cigarettes and bob her hair and dance till dawn in smoky basement night-clubs. When she had finally understood that Dickon was lost to them, she had known she would mourn him for the rest of her life. Even now, she was pierced by sadness as sharp and cold as an icicle whenever she thought of him. And yet, with the war over, life was slowly beginning to return to some kind of normality, and with a certain surprise, she was realizing that there were limits to how much time a person could spend being grief-stricken.OH SUSAN.
4. Heroes. I just watched the new Heroes and MAN, everyone is TOTALLY SEXING EACH OTHER. TOTALLY. Especially all of the Petrellis (including Claire), though that's nothing new. I mean, it pretty much begins with Peter and Claire sexing, but eventually it gets to Peter and Nathan sexing because IT ALWAYS DOES.
I approve of Mohinder/Maya. I APPROVE OF MOHINDER. Someone break me off a piece of THAT, omg. I always knew you had it in you. You were already too pretty for words, AND THEN YOU TOOK OFF YOUR SHIRT. AND I DIED. MOHINDER, YOU ARE TOO HOT FOR WORDS. Also, your superpower is that you are Spiderman, lolz.
OH, AND THEN THERE IS HIRO AND ANDO. Who compare themselves to Batman and Robin. I MEAN, COME ON.
Everyone on Heroes <333333333!!!! Except Claire, who is dumb as a post.
, yeah. I'm tempted to get sucked into the Heroes fandom, but what I REALLY should be doing is homework.
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FOR SIXTY FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS
Re: FOR SIXTY FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS
god, those sentences sound horrible.
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it is my personal canon that the pevensies are sluts for each other. especially peter and susan OF COURSE.
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yes but when peter comes back do peter and susan share edmund, or do peter and edmund share susan, or do susan and edmund share peter? v. important question, that.
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peter comes back tanned dark, thinner than he was before, his calluses in all the wrong places. his smile is a little distant when lucy flings herself at him, legs and arms wrapped around waist and shoulders, and forced when their mother falls on his neck and tells him how handsome he is in his uniform, which hangs off him in a way it didn't before. Their father looks at him like he expects Peter's experience to form some kind of rapport between them, but Peter gives him that same flat, distant smile he gives their mother and moves away.
He and Edmund linger unspeaking, touching with just the tips of their fingers where it goes unnoticed, lost amidst the hustle of getting everyone out of the train station. Susan hugged Peter too, and he put his face into her hair so that he felt his smile -- genuine this time, she thinks -- against her scalp, but he doesn't touch her the way he touches Edmund, doesn't look at her the same way. It reminds her of Natare, although not nearly so drastic.
That night, Susan slips into the boys' bedroom, ignoring Lucy's accusing glare as she looks up from her textbooks. Peter is pulling his shirt off over her head when she closes the door behind her, and she can't help her gasp as she sees the unfamiliar scars on him, seemingly new and ugly after the faint, old scars that always followed a healing from Lucy's cordial.
"Those are from a knife," she exclaims, looking at a series of parallel slashes across Peter's ribs.
Peter glances down, shrugs. There are matching scars on his left forearm. "It happens," he says matter-of-factly. "I won."
"I should hope so," Edmund drawls from the bed, where he's sitting cross-legged. "Otherwise Seaworth's ghost might think all that fancy knifework he taught you went to waste."
Peter grins, the expression a little shocking, and drops his shirt on the floor. "If I'd lost, we wouldn't be having this conversation." He steps toward Edmund and tilts his head up with one hand, and Susan swallows as they kiss, Edmund curling his fingers in the hair at the back of Peter's skull.
"Don't forget Su now," Edmund says when they've finished.
yessssssssssssssssssssssss
sated, peter goes to the window and lights a cigarette, and watches. edmund's hands slide up her legs, up her thighs, they disappear under her skirt. neither susan nor edmund break eye contact, until suddenly she breathes sharply, her lips part and her eyes flutter close. her inhales and exhales are shallow and slow, and edmund watches her with unreadable silence until she lets out one long shuddering breath.
"you should join us, peter," susan says softly without taking her eyes off edmund, and begins to unbutton her blouse.
Re: yessssssssssssssssssssssss
Peter kisses her with his attention narrowed inward a little, like he has to concentrate on it. Susan cups the back of his skull with her palm, feeling the delicate curve of it, like an eggshell. From behind him, Edmund comes up and runs one hand across Peter's left thigh, untucking Susan's blouse from her skirt with the other. She feels Peter smile against her mouth, then he breaks away and kisses Edmund again, quick and a little sloppy.
Susan pulls him back and reaches out with her other hand, reaching for Edmund. He kisses her neck, finds the buttons on her skirt, scrapes his teeth across the back of Peter's wrist when Peter holds out a hand for him.
Peter's dogtags are a wall between them, unbreachable. Susan curls her fingers around the chain and pulls it over his head, hearing them click against each other as she tosses them blindly away. She hears him exhale at the sound.
One of us should dump this lot into wordle. *smirk*
Re: yessssssssssssssssssssssss
because, it's not like they haven't done this before. it's not like they've lost the memory of it, the ability for it, not like desire has grown or shrunk. it is a lateral movement, the feeling that something has changed, now, irrevocably. an accretion of loss like the way darkness is more than absence of light. the taste of peter's skin, the feel of edmund's hands on her, the ragged sounds of breathing during climax because they have to be quiet very quiet. the important things in my life, susan realizes, have become a secret.
peter beneath her holds her hips steady, breathes through his mouth. his eyes are clouded and it's not that he's distant but the opposite of it. here, now, there is no need for pretention and they can lose themselves in each other all they want. she leans back into edmund, turns her head and finds his mouth and it's less a kiss, more a collision, as he slides his arms around her and places his hands over her breasts, and she bites back a moan. the thrusts become more insistent and she meets every push with equal resistance, relishing the pain of peter's fingernails digging her hips.
"susan--" he gasps, and then her fingers alight on his lips, asking for silence.
afterwards it's edmund who leans into her, upon whose shoulder she rests her head as he strokes the side of her neck with his fingers the way he knows she likes. they watch peter drift from the bed and begin to rifle through his pockets for his cigarettes.
"since when have you smoked so much?" asks susan.
"what, you don't remember?" peter replies.
"no, because no such memory of you smoking this much exists."
"i hope," says peter, distantly, "you don't start telling me about what's good for my health." he finds his cigarettes, his matches. he asks, "do you still have my flask?"
"it's in her room," edmund answers. "and lucy's asleep, so don't go traipsing in there rummaging for it."
"all right," is all peter says, and strikes a match.
Re: yessssssssssssssssssssssss
he tells them about burma, a little bit. about its muggy heat and the sounds in the jungle and the cheap wine they all drank when the monsoon rains came. he says, casually, like an afterthought, that he got shot once, and shows them the scar on his ankle. edmund measures it against his thumbnail.
"tell me about the knife fight," he says. "considering the fact you're a pilot."
peter laughs. for anyone else a knife fight (for a pilot) would be something terrible, something horrible, but peter has killed men with a blade, with poison, with sticks and stones, with his bare hands. if edmund knows his brother, he knows that peter was probably more thrilled than he should have been to have the opportunity. he'd be more bothered if he hadn't known he'd probably have been the same way.
"i'd been shot down," he says, "and i'd been on the ground for a week and a half at that point. the japs knew they'd gotten me and they were looking for me. well, i found them, and was trying to skirt around their patrol when i ran across one of them out in the jungle with his trousers down. i went for him as soon as i realized he'd seen me and got his gun away from him, but he still had a knife on him --" he shrugs. "i doubt you want a blow-by-blow."
aren't you afraid, one of susan's friends had said once. afraid of what? she'd asked. of when peter comes back. aren't you afraid he'll be someone else? that the war changed him? wars always change people, susan had replied, from the vantage point of twenty years experience. it's not peter being someone else she's afraid of. she's already been there once; she can weather it again. she's worried he won't be different at all.
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anyway, i meant to come back to this. i just had to analyze wordle first.
lucy's youth protects her from a number of things. it's not a protection she needs, but it's one she appreciates. she will stay the little sister no matter her age, and if she outlives her brothers and sister then she herself will continue to think of lucy pevensie as the little sister, in honor of them. they don't try to shelter lucy as much as they did the first time she was a child, but some habits never die, especially now that she looks so young again. a half-formed and guileless adolescent. maybe that's why she gets picked on in school, but she knows better than the rest of those girls anyway. show her any one of them who has ever fought in battle, or truly loved someone, or cut through freezing clouds on gryphon-back for the sheer thrill of it.
she knows how soft peter's lips are, how familiar the curves of susan's body, and she likes how edmund has little compunction about leaving bitemarks and scratches on her skin because he knows she would do the same to him. but these are all narnia thoughts and they are all living england lives (except peter -- who knows where his heart goes these days), and everyday lucy remembers a little less. she just knows that whatever she had with her siblings, it wasn't this. wasn't what peter and susan and edmund are doing, not really. they treat it now like a sin, and lucy is fairly sure that, back in narnia, no one feared love. no one feared for love.
+
lucy saw, once, susan in the kitchen slicing tomatoes, how peter drifted up behind her, noiseless as ever, slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled her cheek as she smiled. they murmured softly to each other and lucy couldn't make out what from where she was hiding in the hall, could only see susan turn around, trapped between the counter and peter, who leans in for a kiss when their mother squawks from behind lucy, "lu!" and they all three of them jump.
"there you are, my dear!" her mother beams as lucy turns a furious shade of red. "i've mended the seams on your dress. won't you come try it on?"
lucy hurries away from the kitchen doorway, avoiding her siblings' gaze.
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after knowing real friendship, susan will probably hesitate to call anyone in england a friend for the rest of her life, but there are girls she knows and likes, and all of them have brothers or sweethearts or fathers off in the war.
"does he talk to you?" annabelle claremont asks when they're sprawled out in one of the comfortable study nooks at their school.
"hmm?" susan says, looking up from charlemagne.
"your brother. peter. does he talk to you about what he did, you know, over there?" annabelle looks at her with huge blue eyes. her fiance is due back in a month. "all those things he did...aren't you afraid of him?"
i have seen my brother rip the living heart from the chest of another being with his bare hands, susan wants to say. after that, everything else rather pales in comparison. but all she says is, gently, "i don't think i could ever be afraid of peter."
-
-
"it was just a war," peter says blankly when susan presses him. "the tools are different and it's bigger, but it was just a war. i've killed men for money and i've killed men for honor, for glory, for vengeance, for narnia, for myself, and this wasn't any of those. it was just a war."
"the things you did --"
"i've seen folk -- my friends, my enemies, my lovers, my familiy -- burned alive by wildfire. i've seen people ripped apart by griffins, or minotaurs, or by the trees. i've seen the sea rise up and swallow ships whole. i've had men die at the point of my sword and beneath my hands. i've seen the land break in anger and the heavens strike with hail and lightning; i've seen magic work the unimaginable. at my order -- or not. this was just a war, su, and it wasn't even my war, just one i happened to be fighting in. maybe it was bad, but it wasn't my people, wasn't my country. it's just a war. those don't change."
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and what belongs to edmund, what belongs to lucy, they are even smaller. there is nothing here that is susan's. the things that have faded, that are barely there include: england, brother, hands, always. away and back are prominent: synonym or cycle? and what of 'like', implying metaphors, how everything is only everything else.
...WHAT HAVE WE DONE. WORDLE WTF FTW.
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i cannot believe we are ANALYZING WORDLE. although. it probably tells us everything right there.
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I AM ASHAMED OF MY GLEE (maybe)
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huh.
*STILL DEAD*
remember things, lucy,
time want away something even.
narnia knows now,
always just fingers across face, lips.
war kisses little course, one right breath afterwards.
THIS IS ALMOST TOO MUCH FOR ME
Re: *STILL DEAD*
changing goes looking
edmund's always back
OH MY GOD. IT ACTUALLY SAYS "EDMUND'S ALWAYS BACK." *hearts*
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like, maybe what it takes to be a seer is intelligence, an understanding of human nature, and a talent for metaphor. OR SOMETHING.
OH MY GOD SHOOT ME
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