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The writers on Xena made a really interesting choice in terms of how they wrote almost all of the episodic male love interests for Xena and Gabrielle. The vast majority of them never end up sharing a kiss, and the connection between them is rarely explicitly labeled as a romantic one. Instead it’s almost subtextual at times, having the men ask if they plan on settling down, parting with a kiss on the cheek. Even when discussing men that they explicitly had romantic interactions with (Borias, Caesar, Marcus) the writers have them referred to as friends or former friends. It really hammers home the distinction of the crew Queercoding Xena and Gabrielle rather than Queerbaiting the audience, because they went out of their way to make as many of the romantic interactions the women had with men subtextual and analogous to the way Xena and Gabrielle were able to interact on screen, almost as if to say, “see this, you see this as romantic, it’s romance between them too”

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you guys wanna see the most accurate and blasphemous representation of the words ‘catholic shaming’?

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I made a Xena edit!

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when they said in Dune that they needed spice for space travel i thought it was used as some sort of fuel but no apparently it's just because your pilot needs to be hight out of his mind to be able to safely navigate big ships into space

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Xena: Warrior Princess (1995 - 2001) - Behind the Scenes

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gabriellecore

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Finally, it's done! Warrior Nun Season 2 trailer. Non-spoiler (if you've seen the first season), heavier on the Avatrice focus.

I have never seen a WN S2 Trailer so I wanted it to be a fresh take with this score and editing audio to make it more deceptive to what actually happens in S2 as a first time viewer.

Update: I have since watched official S2 trailers and I was shocked by how much plot they gave away. 😂 So I'd say mine is far more mysterious-adjacent.

🎶 We Run This Town version from the movie 365 Trailer

Highest quality is up on YT:

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Ava is not in love with Lieutenant Beatrice Lin-Watson of Golden Fire Department Station 3. She is not. But, if she was (which she’s not), she thinks it would be understandable.

Forgivable, even.

She just thinks that people must fall in love with Beatrice all the time. How could you not, you know? When Bea holds your hand, she very gently rubs her thumb over your knuckles. When the nurses come in to give you pain medicine, she asks them to whisper before you can even flinch at the noise. When she has to go to the bathroom, she asks a nurse to stay with you while she’s gone, even though she thinks you’re asleep.

So, yeah. Maybe Ava isn’t in love with Beatrice (seriously, okay, she isn’t, and there is no need to read into the fact that she has to constantly remind herself that she isn’t), but it would be understandable if she were. But she’s not.

Chapter 5 con’t on AO3 of choose the devil I know (over the heaven I don’t)

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“Remove your helmet. Do you respect my station? Remove your helmet.”

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I think there’s something so deeply and intimately and morbidly true about The Last of Us’s primary thesis which is that humanity’s fatal flaw, in that very Shakespearian way, is that we are destined to care too much about one another so much so that we discard the collective entirely. like we have such a capacity to love the human race and humanity as a whole, to grow our communities and govern cities how we know best and foster such connection with the masses which we are part of, but it’s overtaken by our capacity to love even just a single other person. like one human can come into your life that creates such an intrinsic and passionate love in you— or maybe two people or a family’s worth or any small number— and you suddenly would burn entire villages down just to keep them safe.

joel doesn’t blink twice murdering to find ellie. he doesn’t look back when he decides to do what he does at the hospital later on. he has no remorse about any of it it, because this one girl has grown to mean more to him than any possible greater good could ever mean. and it’s reciprocal. ellie would— and does— do anything she can to help him, save him, protect him, and, eventually, to avenge him. because that’s what you do when you love someone. not when you love people. when you love someone.

and it’s selfish, in a way??? because we love these people and would do so much for them because they mean more to us than other strangers do. it’s exactly like an iteration of the trolley problem, actually. one track has your daughter on it and one track has fifty people. don’t even try telling me you wouldn’t go onto track B if it meant saving your daughter and her puppy dog eyes from the whimpering and pain and fear. The Last of Us says yes, you would. I would. we all would. and like yeah that is our greatest weakness, that we have such a unique ability to love a handful of people so deeply that our compassion towards community and strangers and the bigger collective starts to slip from view. but goddamn what a fucking great fatal flaw it is to have. we are all going to die and the world will burn because we loved another person too much.

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chef au sneak peek

“Work is shit,” Lilith says with a grunt as she twists out of Beatrice’s throw.  “Nothing new.”

“Regular work stress has you this keyed up?”

Lilith glares and punches, feints, manages to turn in and snag the edge of Beatrice’s gi; Beatrice returns the favor and hooks an ankle around the back of Lilith’s leg and sends her crashing back into the mat again.  Another fucking shit grinds out of Lilith’s mouth at the impact, but her glare disappears abruptly, eyes widening as Beatrice absently straightens her gi.

“What–”

A foot sweeps behind Beatrice’s, knocking her down onto her ass.  It’s unsportsmanlike and Lilith is many things but unsportsmanlike has never been one of them, and Beatrice greedily pulls air back into her lungs after the impact and sits up to stare incredulously as Lilith.

“Really?”  Beatrice sighs and rolls her head on her neck.

“Is that a hickey?”

Keep reading

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a little guy as a little knight

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Another thing (among many) that Warrior Nun gets absolutely right is its cast full of women and how they're treated throughout.

By gifting us with a diverse selection of female characters, each with their own backgrounds, looks, desires, virtues, flaws, we are treated to a wonderful mosaic of what women can be and effectively are. Proud, scared, selfish, hurt, strong, vulnerable, cunning, selfless, determined, evil, good... Each one of them can be individually and duly explored without making it look like a comment on some ideal sort of "Woman", without slipping into stereotype and the usual dullness that many other narratives reserve for their female characters.

By having (many) more than only a single interesting, well-rounded woman, by allowing each of them to be complex and human rather than just a prop for some man or eye candy for a male audience, the world of WN seems to us a lot more like something we can recognise, something truthful, unlike many other stories we've seen before — and that is one hell of a breath of fresh air.

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Has this been done yet? Yes? No?

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Do A Flip - chapter 7 (11.2k words)

chapter excerpt:

Shannon.

She’s always been a light sleeper, prone to waking up a few times a night, and the effect is magnified when she’s somewhere different. 

Tonight, different is their backyard: Diego has been desperate to go camping, and sleeping out under the stars behind Shannon and Mary’s house is their trial attempt at the whole experience. 

Beside her, Mary is still out, eyes closed. She tends to frown in her sleep, which Shannon finds charming; or perhaps what she finds charming is the way the frown clears when Mary wakes up, how she sees Shannon and her expression changes, first thing. 

Shannon slips out of their makeshift bed and stands, stretching her arm, working through a couple of nerve glides. Sometimes, when the weather changes too much too quickly, her old shoulder injury still twinges. It’s not too bad, anymore, but it’s better to get ahead of these things. 

From here, she can see the banked remains of the small fire they’d had in the pit, and the arrangement of the others, strewn out across the lawn. 

Diego, Ava, and Beatrice are lined up on a collection of mats. Ava has curled around Beatrice, and the way the two of them are pressed close makes Shannon sure they’ve slept like this before, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Together, Ava and Beatrice have made an art out of avoiding change, or rather, of changing everything except that last little thing that makes it impossible to go back. 

Diego’s head pops up from his nest of blankets. In the moonlight, Shannon can see him blink, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. He catches sight of her and squirms free, scooping up his water bottle from the ground nearby before weaving his way over to her. 

He’s wearing a hoodie that he inherited from Ava recently — it features a graphic of a turtle in a judge’s wig, with the word TORTLE printed below. Shannon’s not sure he actually gets it, but he wears it all the time now anyway. 

"You’re awake, too," he says — softly, so he won’t wake everyone else.

"Yep. Thought I'd check out the stars for a bit."

They sit down together in two of the chairs by the firepit and tip their heads up to look at the sky. 

"How are you liking camping so far?" Shannon asks. 

"It’s cool," he whispers back. "Definitely marshmallows are the best part." 

Only Shannon, Ava, and Diego eat marshmallows — Beatrice is bothered by the texture and Mary finds them too sweet — but between the three of them, they’d managed to finish off a whole packet. Shannon had about three marshmallows total, so most of the credit has to be split between Ava and Diego’s industrious efforts. 

"Marshmallows are the best part," Shannon confirms. 

Diego’s attention drifts back to the stars for a moment, and then over to their campsite: the inflatable mattresses and the sleeping bags and the heaps of pillows — almost every single pillow from their house.

His expression shifts, and she can’t quite read him anymore.

"Everything okay?" 

At Diego’s age, if asked anything about how she was feeling, Beatrice had a variety of responses. She’d inform Shannon, stony-faced, that she was fine, that it didn’t matter, or just change the topic completely. Occasionally, when she did open up, it was almost always accompanied by a preface: this is ridiculous, but —

It’s a habit that stuck through her adolescence, a sense that emotions could only be discussed after having gained distance from them, after positioning them as inconsequential or unimportant. 

Shannon doesn’t really hear Beatrice talk like that anymore. Maybe it’s growing up and growing into herself, and being away from her parents. Maybe it’s Ava’s influence, and how she wants to put every one of Beatrice’s feelings under light and examine it and take it seriously. Or maybe it was a conscious choice, out of fear that Diego might pick it up, might start to speak and think in the same way. 

"Yeah," Diego says. "It’s just nice, isn’t it? It’s really nice."

"It is," Shannon replies. 

There’s a beat, and then Diego admits, "I wanted to try it because of what you said. You said that camping trips were your favourite thing when you were a kid."

Actually, what Shannon said was that family camping trips were her favourite, but this omission, it seems, has been made deliberately: Diego is watching her very carefully, now, his fingers tugging at his hoodie sleeve. 

"Is this like the ones you remember?" he asks. 

"Well, my brother used to snore like a tractor," Shannon answers, and Diego’s nose crinkles in amusement. "But other than that, they were exactly like this." 

Diego nods, satisfied, and the two of them sit there a little longer, until Diego yawns, and then he’s off again, saying goodnight to Shannon before disappearing back into his nest, wriggling a bit closer to Ava before going still.