Need to talk about Azad and Vikram. The way they're THE father and son.
Both are cool and have crazy fighting skills. Great hair I gotta say.
But you can clearly see the differences between them. That's good acting but also good character writing I guess.
Like Azad was brought up by women and you can see he's so good with women. Treats them with respect, with love (i.e. not creepy, had to say that because you get that icky feeling sometimes with some people). His girls, the girls in jail are not his property, he is just proud of them. And that's nice to see in these big films.
And on the other hand there's the dad. He's strict and charming and stoic in a sexy way. He has this subtle sense of humour that I adored. Oh he'll be such a cool grandpa (Azad is already a cool dad). And he speaks not much, but his actions boy oh boy, he's a superhero atp.
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hold on, late night fantasy au snippet (its short, emphasis on this factoid). context: early days of the neighborhood, most of them are still getting to know each other. frank has a crush <3
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“So,” Eddie says conversationally, “and let me know if I’m overstepping, but how did you get that scar? I confess, it’s been eatin’ at me for days. There must be some sorta story behind it.”
In a heartbeat, Frank lists the qualities of the man in front of him.
Handsome.
Incredibly sweet.
Too sweet, easy to take advantage of.
Charming accent.
Handsome.
A man of honor and righteousness.
Handsome.
The only logical conclusion? Impress him.
“It’s not all that interesting,” Frank says. He shrugs in a way that he hopes comes off as nonchalant, but not aloof. “[INSERT GRAPHIC WAY OF SCAR-GAINING HERE]”
There, now Eddie will surely be impressed, and perhaps even in awe of - oh no. He looks sad. Why does he look sad?
“That’s terrible,” Eddie says with upturned brows and soft, shiny doe eyes. “That really happened to you?”
Frank’s brain says, No, of course not. That was a lie to impress you. I actually got this scar from an exceptionally sharp - and heavy - book falling off of a library shelf. It landed directly on my face and knocked me out instantaneously.
Frank’s mouth says, “Not all of us had a happy childhood.”
That was, evidently, the wrong thing to say. Eddie’s melancholy expression turns stricken and ashamed, and Frank is keenly aware that he just dashed any hope he had of this beautiful person ever liking him.
“You were a kid?” Eddie nearly whispers. Real, honest tears gather on his ridiculously full lashes. “I’m so sorry, that’s… that’s just awful.”
Frank doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s far too late to tell the truth, but anything he says further would just deepen the hole he’s landed himself in. Luckily - or unluckily, it’s hard to say - Eddie doesn’t seem to expect him to say anything else.
He mumbles another guilt-ridden sorry and faces front again, staring mournfully at the ground and radiating discomfort. Frank has a feeling that he’s projecting more of the same.
Curse this man’s sensitive nature - Frank’s varying tales of how he got his facial scar always garner sounds of amazement or astonishment. Of course Eddie, handsome sweet Eddie, would find the story horrifying. Frank doesn’t want to imagine how he’ll react if he found out that his tearful response was unwarranted. Here’s hoping that never happens.
~
bonus commentary:
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The last one: what have they been putting off forever, even though it would take ten minutes?
Me: writing this fic.... just kidding it took longer than ten minutes 😅
The little infirmary bed in Ted Kord’s secret hidden basement was as enclosed and cluttered as everything else Kard had hidden away in his mansion. It reminded Jaime of a bunk bed an elementary school friend had, only much more solid. Thanks to the scarab, Jaime could see every scratch and dent and read every dusty, scribbled note, even if he couldn’t understand exactly what they meant. He was covered in sensors which connected to monitors which recorded data from him and Khaji and, if he didn’t focus on the fact that he could move his arms and legs, Jaime would be right back in Victoria’s lab.
He took a deep breath in, ignored the squirming feeling in his mouth and how many new teeth he had and the clenching of legs against his spine and all the weird aches that had accumulated over the past couple of weeks–almost as bad as the days after all this stuff had started when Khaji was– and exhaled.
This couldn’t keep happening. Jaime couldn’t keep putting off asking Khaji what was happening to him. The Scarab would tell him, he knew that like he knew his name. Hell, Jaime wasn’t even sure he knew why he kept putting it off.
Or at least, he didn’t want to think about why he kept putting it off.
“Khaji Da.” He tried to say its full name with authority, like his mother did to him and Milla when she’d caught them in something. Hopefully the scarab would pick up the context.
Yes, Jaime? Khaji’s voice in his head was smooth like it wasn't aware of his churning thoughts.
“What–” his voice broke for a moment as something happened in his throat. It wasn't on purpose, just another inconvenient part of whatever was happening Jaime hoped. He coughed and cleared his throat. “What’s happening to me, Khaji?”
Optimization of the host body.
“You've said that before.” Jaime’s tone was flat. Disappointed. “But I need to know. What's happening? Is something wrong? Are you doing this? Why?”
Was Khaji telling him the whole truth? Would it?
My programming was damaged in transit.
“What?”
I am one of many scarab units created by the Reach to discover, infiltrate, and exploit alien worlds.
Khaji was telling the truth. Jaime knew it in the same instinctive way he knew how to speak to Khaji, how to move in the armor, how to breathe. He wasn’t surprised, even though he should have been, as Khaji recited the facts of its creation.
The goals of the Reach are incompatible with your goals. The damage done to my programming and the repairs I made based off of your neurology allow me to disobey, but I am still vulnerable to root commands.
At the top of Jaime’s spine, Khaji clutched its legs around his vertebra and his hand twitched in a sympathetic mirroring grasp he had no input in.
I do not wish to cause fear, but if I am forced to shut down I do not want you to be vulnerable.
Jaime remembered how Khaji’s inert shell had felt around him in Victoria's secret base. How it had been cold. How it had felt like his skin was pulling away from his carapace. He wasn’t sure which one of them had pulled up that memory from the depths where he'd buried it.
“Okay. I get it.” Because how could he not? Jaime had lived through that just as much as Khaji had. “I get it.”
He sighed. Clenched his eyes shut. Tried to reconcile the part of him that accepted everything Khaji said implicitly with the part that should have been afraid. The part that didn’t seem to exist. Jaime was upset. But only because he somehow wasn’t surprised. He was angry. But only because he wasn’t told what was going on.
Jaime opened his eyes and looked at the equipment in the infirmary, backlit by standby lighting. Jenny had done basic testing before telling him to try to settle down, to stay until she figured out what was happening. He missed his family suddenly. Wanted them here, even if they’d be loud and annoying. He wanted to be unaware. Distracted.
He couldn’t.
“Why doesn’t this bother me, Khaji?”
Khaji didn’t answer at first, compiling data, formatting it so he’d understand. Jaime knew what it was doing in the same way he knew everything else. When Khaji finally responded, it wasn’t with words.
It was simple. A Scarab and its host were a single unit. Anything one knew, so did the other. Even if Jaime wasn’t aware of what was happening; he knew. It was like proprioception but for information. If Jaime wanted to know something, then he just needed to look.
He didn’t want to look. Not now at least.
@wazzappp I still sometimes work on this fic...
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no but when mhok told day to think of his plate as a clock and told him where on the clock the food was that really reminded me of one of my favorite movies from when i was in middle school which is also about blind people and where the title of the movie itself is a reference to thinking of the plate as a clock: it's called "erbsen auf halb 6" which literally translates to "peas at half past 5" (yes, "halb 6" means "half past 5", yes the numbers are different, don't worry about it)
the plot of the movie is a theater director losing his eyesight in a car accident and him being a director who kinda needs to see what's going on on stage he really doesn't take his sudden loss of vision very well. he gets assigned a helper/mentor, a lady who is blind herself and who's been blind since birth and is supposed to help him adapt to a life with disability. he ultimately runs away from her when he learns that his mother is sick to go find his mother in russia and say goodbye before she dies. his helper/mentor chases after him and they end up on a travel adventure together
it's been over a decade since i last saw the movie but i think at some point they eat and they talk about how the peas sit on the plate where it would be half past 5 on a clock?? anyway, that moment with mhok and day at the restaurant where mhok tells him the position of day's food with the help of an analog clock really reminded me of that movie
edit: i went to look for the trailer of that movie and i found the scene in question!! turns out they're at a restaurant and the helper/mentor character goes "if you imagine the plate as a clock... what numbers is the food lying on?" and the waitress is all confused going "i'm sorry?"
there are no eng subs for the trailer buuut the moment is at the very end at 2:11:
see it's a real movie i didn't just make it up kjdfkjdfk
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