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Is There In Truth No Beauty?Spirk Meta

Kirk and Spock, Miranda and Kollos: Parallels

Folks, we really need to talk about “Is There In Truth No Beauty?” TOS 03x05.

Yes, it is in the third season of TOS. Yes, it is one of my favourite TOS episodes of all time.

My partner and I were on the couch wheezing, gooped, gagged, SHOOK at how off the deep end Kirk went in this episode in his rabidity and desperation to save Spock.

I live. I got my jush. I yelled at my TV at the absolute gall of JTK.

But there is more to this episode than that incredibly intense, wild scene of Jim Kirk throwing a completely blind Miranda Jones around a room as they scream at each other and tussle over Spock’s unconscious body in sickbay . . . just um . . . that’s a wow. 11/10 wtfery. (As @theshipscloset would say, “yay 60′s!”)

But let’s get into that “more to this episode” that I was speaking of, shall we?

Specifically, the interesting parallels between Kirk and Spock’s relationship that are cleverly contrasted with Miranda and Kollos’ relationship.

You know the drill, if this is the tip of the iceberg, then what lies below is massive. (Y’all you know me. It’s a LONG, JUICY META POST.)

Carry on, if you’re curious:

Doctor Miranda Jones is an incredibly talented, capable and brilliant telepathic Psychologist that had the unique privilege of studying on Vulcan; she was able to control and master her telepathic abilities under the counsel of Vulcans. She is also the first of her kind in history to form a genuine connection and relationship with an alien race called the Medusans. This is an impressive human being, and she has decided to dedicate her working life to spending it alongside the Medusan named Kollos.

Like Spock, Kollos is a unique species that is poorly understood by others in the universe. Despite the fact that they are endlessly intelligent, warm, and altruistic beings who are eager to share and help others, Medusans are misunderstood as “ugly” and “dangerous”. This is due to the fact that staring at their naked, natural form can cause insanity in humans. As Jim describes them, "while the thoughts of the Medusans are the most sublime in the galaxy, their physical appearance is exactly the opposite.”

Similarly, Spock is also a deeply misunderstood species; unique in his dual heritage, Spock is often dismissed by Vulcans as “too emotional, too human, too impulsive, too Terran; a shame to Vulcan”. By humans, he is labelled as “emotionless, cold, a computer, difficult, guarded, tight-lipped, too private, too serious”. By both worlds, Spock experiences some form of rejection; scoffed at for not fitting into the ‘norm’ that is still ever present, even in the future, forcing some to feel “othered” or “weird”.

Kollos and Spock have similar experiences in that they are so unfortunately misunderstood (as a Vulcan and Medusan) when they have so much to offer.

They both also have a deep bond with a human; their human is the only one other person in the universe who truly, deeply understands them and loves them as they are. When Jim suggests Kollos is ugly, Miranda yells: “Ugly. What is ugly? Who is to say whether Kollos is too ugly to bear, or too beautiful to bear?!”

This immediately made me think of times when Kirk bristled defensively when he saw people cruelly mistreat or misjudge Spock. Those moments when people talked over Spock, showed prejudice toward him because he was alien, or because he wasn’t emotively performative or reclusive in the way that others wanted or expected him to be.

We see firsthand how vehemently protective Jim gets about Spock’s humanity -- or Spock in general -- throughout the series. We see the terse moment with Stiles in Balance of Terror (01x14); Stiles is suspicious of Spock’s similarities to Romulans, uttering suspicions and bigoted commentary that leads to Jim grabbing him by the chair and stating firmly: “Leave any bigotry you have in your quarters, there’s no room for it on the bridge.”

We also see another heart-wrenching example of this in Spectre of the Gun (03x06) after Chekov is “killed”; even among his closest friends (Kirk, Scotty, Bones), Spock is hurtfully “othered” and woefully misunderstood by all but Jim:

Spock: Gentlemen, there is one thing that requires the immediate attention of all of us. Specifically, our future.

Kirk: But not this minute, Spock . . . it takes us a little longer . . .

Spock: I understand the feeling, Captain.

Bones: *Heated* You talk about another man’s feelings. What do you feel, Spock?

Spock: *Refusing to meet eyes* My feelings are not subject for discussion, Doctor.

Bones: *Angry* Because there are no feelings to discuss!

Scotty: *Aghast* Mr Spock, Chekov is dead! I say it now and I can hardly believe it, but you worked closely with him -- that deserves some memorial!

Bones: Spock will have no truck with grief, Scotty. It’s human.

The expressions on Spock’s face during this scene are heart wrenching.

Spock just sits there, dazed and despondent, listening to Bones and Scotty verbally project these awful things onto him. He looks defeated and tired, with a face that says “yet again, I’m surrounded by people who talk for me, attacking me for not being performatively emotive in the way that would best service them, not me . . . thinking that they understand me, yet never truly knowing me at all.”

And then the camera immediately cuts to Jim, who is clearly hurt by what Bones and Scotty have said to Spock. They make a point of showing Jim immediately after this tirade at Spock, and he is wearing a tortured, stung expression:

It’s a juxtaposition between how other people -- even those close to Spock such as Bones or his own mother -- constantly misunderstand Spock, while Jim completely knows who he is. Jim understands Spock, and vice versa. He sees him, and accepts him.

Everyone else at one point or another tries to change Spock. People constantly try to push Spock to be something else, something more or less; more human, less emotional, more Vulcan, less serious . . . Jim is the only person who ever looked at Spock and simply just loved and appreciated what was there to begin with, and the feeling is mutual.

Similarly, Miranda is that for Kollos, and vice versa. They are both keenly misunderstood, by everyone but each other. This is why Jim has this pained, desperate look on his face as he quickly walks over to diffuse the situation amongst his close friends (as Jim always does in the tense, hurtful moments of misunderstanding that Spock endures; Jim always has his back):

Kirk: Bones . . . Scotty --

Spock: *Very softly* Captain . . . It’s quite alright. They forget . . . I am half human.

Spock so seldom admits to his humanity in TOS, especially in front of anyone else besides Jim. It is such a rare, stinging moment of vulnerability from him after facing such cruel vitriol and misunderstanding. The crew besides Jim doesn’t always realize it. Sometimes, they take for granted Spock’s Vulcan control. They assume he feels nothing at all, as opposed to feeling things very deeply and hiding them.

But he does feel, deeply; and even if he hardly shows it, it does hurt him when the crew uses him as an emotional punching bag, or takes to lashing out or punishing him for “not being human enough”. Just as his father punished him for “not measuring up” to being performatively Vulcan enough, humans also punish Spock for not being performatively human enough.

He’s just never enough, for anyone but Jim.

That’s what makes this moment so poignant. Spock’s use of “they” when speaking to Jim also has implications; “they forget, I am half human”. . . the unsaid piece there is, “you don’t.”

While others forget who Spock is sometimes, Jim never does. Jim is that one, sole, intimate supportive emotional connection that Spock has to cling to in his very lonely world, so often misunderstood even by the people closest to him; but not Jim. Jim is Spock’s safe place to land, and Spock is also that for Jim. It is a big part of what essentially makes them “home” to each other.

To me, this is one of the most potent, powerful character-development based moments we see in TOS; and it perfectly articulates how Spock has shared many close relationships with other members of the crew, but nobody understands him like Jim. Nobody is as close to him as Jim, and because of this, Jim can be at times defensive and near-possessive of how people treat Spock and interpret him. Miranda is very much in that same spirit in her affection and regard for Kollos; it is apparent in how she too vehemently defends and protects her alien companion. Jim similarly fusses over and worries about Spock more than anyone else on the show.

Earlier in the opening of the episode, we see a reminder of this when Jim and Spock are alone together in the transporter room before Miranda and Kollos arrive:

Jim is fretting about Spock’s safety around Kollos. He’s inspecting the glasses with skepticism, reluctant to trust it to protect Spock.

Kirk: Are you sure this visor will work?

Spock: It has proved effective for Vulcans.

Kirk: It’s you’re human half I’m worried about.

Spock: I shall . . . endeavor to keep it under control.

The scene is important because Jim knows as well as Spock does, whether he wants to admit it or not, his humanity plays a large factor in this. It’s a small but domestic and intimate scene; you don’t usually see them speaking to one another unguarded this way unless they are alone.

Jim knows Spock -- and Spock’s humanity -- well enough to know that his concerns are justified, despite Spock’s placations.

Ultimately, Jim ends up being right -- Spock’s humanity is quite a significant factor, as we learn later in the episode; Spock is afflicted by the visage of Kollos and nearly dies due to it.

But the scene perfectly articulates what I’m hitting home at: Jim understands Spock’s duality. He knows him. He sees both sides of Spock, and Jim is one of the only people who actually gets invited in to see who Spock really is. He is the first and only person to both understand and accept Spock as-is whole-heartedly, no questions asked. And it shows Jim’s almost possessive, protective side when it comes to Spock’s vulnerable human side. Again, it is similar to Miranda’s protectiveness of Kollos in the same episode, which we will talk about a bit more further below.

We discover throughout the episode that Miranda is jealous of Spock and his ability to do what she cannot; to establish a telepathic link with Kollos and see him. Because her bond with Kollos is so close and intimate, she is terrified of losing it -- so much so that she starts to do questionable things in order to preserve it. We will see the parallels to that in Jim later when he is throwing her around sickbay in desperation to save Spock.

Miranda is also quite protective of how soft and vulnerable Kollos is that so few realize or understand about him -- very much like our discussion of Spock and Jim earlier. So few people understand either alien, or make the immense effort to attempt. Kollos really is a lovely, endlessly gentle, giving, considerate, and beautiful entity, it is just that he is so damn difficult to reach. So few take the time or effort to do it. How perfectly does that parallel Spock, and how Jim Kirk was the only person to push past those fortresses of defense built by all those years of hurt, loss, repression, rejection and self-loathing; someone who dared Spock to be loved and vulnerable?

In summary, the visor scene and the Spectre scene both serve the function of articulating to the audience that Jim has a unique, deep understanding of Spock and his struggle of duality that nobody else does -- and Spock seems to prefer only sharing the more vulnerable sides of himself with Jim. I think this unique bond is purposefully paralleled with that of Kollos and Miranda throughout the episode. But Jim is not the only one defensive of Spock; the reverse is also true.

In moments like Conscience of the King, The Turnabout Intruder, The Ultimate Computer or Court Martial where Jim’s character or competency was questioned, Spock would vehemently defend him with a cold ferocity that rivalled Jim’s passion whenever he had to check someone being disrespectful to Spock.

While Kirk was vehemently protective of Spock’s humanity, Spock was vehemently protective of Kirk’s reputation and character -- which was often woefully misunderstood or misrepresented. It’s no secret that Jim wasn’t a Starfleet favourite, and a lot of dirt and rumours were flung around about his name -- both good and bad.

I’m sure that stung Spock, knowing the real Jim, and knowing how ardently Jim always went to bat for him when others were cruel. It seemed Spock could not stand to hear others slander Jim, because unlike so many others who talked about Jim and thought they knew him, Spock really knew Jim. The real Jim. The Jim who had lived through so much trauma already in his young life, who wistfully spoke of loneliness when they were alone together, whom he so endlessly admired as his Captain. Their support and respect was mutual.

Interestingly, we see those very parallels in Kollos and Miranda; parallels of loyalty, of found family, of a unique bond so strong, rare and beautiful that it is difficult for outsiders to comprehend or understand. They kind of need each other, at home and understood nowhere else but with each other.

We see Miranda, who through her own personal unique experiences (her perspective with blindness/how she is perceived) and how bitterly misunderstood she has been. Miranda is always on the receiving end of superficial pity for her blindness in lieu of acknowledging how she has accomplished and achieved so much regardless of it. She is a woman to be proud of, not a woman to be pitied; just as Kollos is a being to be proud of, admired -- not shunned or mocked for something as ridiculous as appearance (another excellent parallel to Spock).

Like Kollos, Miranda is deeply misunderstood; she has a reputation that hangs over her head that she doesn’t want, and a narrative she despises: “Oh, the poor blind girl who is going to spend her life condemned with the ugly alien.” That just isn’t her reality, but others try to force it on her.

In that vein, Jim is also deeply misunderstood; people scandalize his reputation, talk about him behind his back, make snide and disparaging comments, unable to discern fact from fiction. Picard himself pays mention to how muddled Jim Kirk’s legacy is through all the tall-tale telling and gossip mill; how so little is understood of Jim overall as a human being between the fact and fiction of his history. It’s funny how be it meta or canon, the Kirk Drift is real. Perhaps only Spock, Bones and the Enterprise bridge crew ever really truly got to know the real Jim Kirk at all.

Like Miranda, Jim also went through his own personal unique experiences that were quite traumatic (witnessing the Tarsus IV genocide; Conscience of the King 01x23, the incident as a young lieutenant when Kirk hesitated in firing phasers at a creature, which subsequently killed half the Farragut crew. Though given a commendation for bravery, Kirk continued to blame himself for the deaths. Obsession 02x13). Kirk does not share that trauma willingly; in fact it is pried out of him tooth and nail quite forcefully later through Spock and McCoy. People think they know Jim, but very few people in the actual canon know the real Jim Kirk.

Jim’s reputation in the canon is often part reality, part rumour -- and it is no secret that Jim is not loved by Starfleet. We even hear in Lower Decks about how presumably Spock is invited to an elite fleet social gathering involving the rubbing of elbows of only the biggest names in the fleet. Because his plus one was Jim, neither were permitted entry to the event -- and they end up hanging out at a dive bar together that becomes “their bar”.

We know Spock was the one invited and not Jim, because Spock is the one with the strongest reputation in the fleet at that time period. He is already established and well known as a legend serving on the flagship with Pike around the time that Jim becomes Captain (Where No Man Has Gone Before 01x03 era).

Jim was not a well liked Starfleet officer. He rubbed people the wrong way, he was blunt, he had no trouble telling superiors when he disagreed with them, and he challenged protocol and egos when it meant saving lives. Jim was labelled things like “rash, unpredictable, unhinged, reckless, womanizing, swaggering” while so very few would bring up his accolades of peace, diplomacy, his instances of ingenuity, his intelligence.

Like Miranda, Jim was pigeon-holed into a reputation that limited him; Miranda was painted as a pitiful, helpless blind woman by others when she was an impressive, accomplished medical professional. Jim was often labelled a fool-hardy meathead when he was an accomplished, talented Starfleet officer.

Look at how often throughout the TOS/Movie canon that the Fleet would try to pin penalties and harsh judgements on Jim at the drop of a hat, but they would always manage to be shocked Pikechu face every time Spock would toss out his lot with Starfleet to join Jim’s side. People thought they knew Jim and Spock, like people thought they knew Miranda and Kollos -- but nobody else in the universe ever understood them they way that they understood each other.

Another interesting parallel is in how so many people find Miranda desirable, but in a selfish, self-serving superficial way; they project fantasies, ideas, and destinies onto her that she never personally desires. Instead, they try to force her to be what she is not; to conform to roles, lifestyles, or relationships that she doesn’t want (I’m looking at Larry and his gross “nice guy-we-are-close-and-we-have-been-friends-so-you-owe-me-some-ass” routine).

This also parallels nicely with all those times others so rudely scoffed Spock’s sexual orientation and private life surrounding it (Ex: Harry Mudd in Mudd’s Women 01x06):

Times when people made unwanted advances toward him and put him in the awkward situation of having to reject them outright (Uhura in The Man Trap 01x01 getting shot down with the “Vulcan has no moon” line when she tries flirting with Spock and it crashes and burns. Also Chapel confessing her love to Spock in The Naked Time 01x04 only for him to say “I’m sorry . . .” get super uncomfortable, and nope tf out of there running and internally screaming).

Spock is the untouchable, unhaveable, unmovable; he is not at all tempted or phased by the sexual advances and demands of others -- just like Miranda and Larry. Like Spock and Chapel in TOS, Miranda cannot love Larry the way that he wants her to despite them having a very close, special bond and friendship that they both value -- however Larry is furious at her for it, and takes it out on her.

Similarly, even people close to Spock who sincerely care about him still constantly do this to him. They expect or demand him to be more human; they make his feelings and love life the butt end of their jokes or fantasies without even considering how inconsiderate or cruel that is, however unintentional. They do not always stop to think about who he really is, how he really feels, or what he really wants. Because it isn’t about him. It isn’t because they really know who he is, as Spock himself hardly knows who he really is even as well as Jim does. It is more about their own selfish reasons for wanting to get close to Spock and less about actually knowing who he really is or what he wants or needs.

There is one person who actually bothers to go in and get to know the real Spock, love him, and accept him for exactly who he is. That’s Jim. Conversely, Kollos is that for Miranda.

In both pairings, they are two misunderstood individuals brought together and who bond through intense loneliness; a pairing who truly only know and understand each other on a deeper, intimate level. Everyone else seems to know some caricature or assumption of them, but the pairings really only let it all go in front of each other (and also Bones. Bones has to deal with A LOT OF this shit. Homeboy deserves a medal of honour for his service. But even Bones misunderstands Spock quite frequently in TOS, and on occasion Jim. We see instances where Spock seems to understand Jim while Bones misses the mark, such as Conscience of the King 01x13.)

Miranda is also vehemently possessive of Kollos, protective of him, and even jealous of him and his attention; this is something we have seen throughout TOS with Jim and Spock.

(Example: Jim is actually beside himself when Spock is under the influence of the spores, making out and rolling around in the grass with Leila in This Side of Paradise 01x24. It is one of the first times Jim ever finds himself on the receiving end of disloyalty from Spock, who threatens to straight up leave Jim and the Enterprise behind for this woman.

Even though it is entirely because of an alien spore, before Jim is aware of this, he is so absolutely destroyed by that. I have never seen him so damn shook, sick and hurt in TOS as when he thinks he may have genuinely lost Spock. It wrecks him up so bad.)

In a similar vein, Miranda knows and understands how unique, how special, how absolutely precious Kollos is in the universe. She wants to protect him from people who would use his beautiful brilliance for manipulation, greed, or selfish reasons.

Similarly, Jim is also possessive and protective of Spock, recognizing what a unique asset he is and what irreplaceable value he brings. This is especially evident is TAS 01x07 The Infinite Vulcan when Agmar steals Spock in order to clone an army of Spocks; he argues that Spock is such a brilliant, pure, peaceful and wholesome mind that an army of him could force peace in their lifetime.

But Jim was absolutely furious and frustrated, because he knows Spock so well that he knows this idiot is going to destroy the one perfect unique Spock that exists in the universe in a peace mission of futility; he knows that based on IDIC, Spock would never force his beliefs on any other culture. Agmar was cloning Spock in an effort of futility, and Jim fought tooth and nail to get Spock back.

A similar situation happened in 03x01 Spock’s Brain, where Spock’s impossibly brilliant mind was stolen to run and control an alien society.

Jim knows how special Spock is; he also knows other people know it, which makes him a touch possessive and protective in matters surrounding Spock. He knows, some would try to take advantage of him.

This perfectly mirrors how jealous and possessive Miranda can be of Kollos, because she is fearful that some would take this beautiful, vulnerable and unique soul and try to manipulate it to do their bidding or serve their agendas. The Medusans have formidable and unparalleled navigational skills in the universe that could very well be taken advantage of if they are not protected.

This also explains why Miranda is scared to let Kollos close to Spock, fearing he could steal away the unique bond she has with him. She doesn’t understand Spock’s altruistic motives and frets about selfish ones (she attempts to read Spock’s mind telepathy, but he does not permit it. She does not realize he won’t try to hurt or use Kollos). She loves Kollos stubbornly, almost madly in her affection and unique bond with him.

She can’t bear the thought of that beautiful bond being torn away from her because something that she was scared to admit was the fact that she needs Kollos, every bit as much as he needs her to function. She would be lost without Kollos.

Now this takes us to the Sickbay scene where after Spock is exposed to Kollos without the visor, his mind is damaged and begins to fade; he is dying.

We saw how jealous and wild that Miranda could get out of her intense loyalty, love, and connection to Kollos. Now we get to see a sterling example of that in Kirk and how desperate he becomes when faced with the prospect of losing Spock. Like Miranda knows it about her bond with Kollos, Jim knows it of his bond with Spock: he would be lost without Spock. And when that all encompassing terror and agony is now upon him, he lashes out.

He even recognizes it in himself beforehand. He isn’t in the right state of mind before he begins the conversation -- or shall I say, throw down -- with Miranda :

Bones: Unless Miranda can look down into his mind and turn it outward to us, we will lose Spock.

Jim: *Blatantly fretting, pacing* Vulcan mind techniques, they seem so untrustworthy now that Spock’s life is at stake.

Bones: Her knowledge of them could be the only thing that could save Spock’s sanity, perhaps even his own life.

Jim: *Increasingly agitated, gesturing* But does she want to?! . . . she’s been in there so long . . .

Bones: There’s nothing else to be done.

Jim: She tried to help Marvick. Marvick is dead!

Bones: That’s different. Marvick loved her.

Jim: And Spock is her rival. *Pacing intensifies* Is that any better? Even Spock felt the violence of her jealously . . .

Bones: But they weren’t rivals in love.

Here is what Jim understands -- about Spock, about Miranda, about Kollos -- that Bones doesn’t seem to understand.

They were rivals in love, and Jim recognizes that and understands it. Maybe not to Spock, but definitely to Miranda in terms of her fearing that Spock would take her place with Kollos.

Jim can see that Miranda and Kollos are indeed in love, incredibly intimate -- and Spock was a potential threat to that closeness if he wanted to take Miranda’s job. He truly didn’t, but to Miranda, Kollos was her whole world. She was blinded by her own affection and love for him, so she could not imagine a reason why Spock would not want to take her place.

Because what she did not understand was that like Miranda, Spock too was already in the exact place that he loved above any else; at Jim’s side on the Enterprise.

She didn’t yet understand that Spock had the same kind of bond that she had with Kollos already, right there on that ship with Jim, therefore he wasn’t tempted by her position.

But Miranda didn’t know that, and was deeply jealous of Spock’s abilities that he could offer Kollos that she could not. Unlike Bones, Jim understood that Miranda could indeed love Kollos, because it was just as he loved Spock. Nobody else had to understand or comprehend it for it to be real. So Jim truly understands what he is contending with in this moment.

Without another word, unable to wait any longer, Jim starts to storm into the sickbay. Bones snatches him by the arm to stop him warningly:

Bones: Jim . . . you shouldn’t go in there.”

And here it comes my babies, this line, this line is just flipping iconic because you know we gonna see shenanigans, cowboy diplomacy, Jim has officially lost it and is in the danger zone of desperation because he says:

Jim: Whatever happens, Bones . . . don’t interfere.

Oh. My. F**king God.

DID YOU SEE BONES’ FACE after Jim said that like “Sweet Jesus, what the WHAT now? What unholy things are about to happen behind that door?”

Did he just say that?

Did JIM just say that?

Oh my God.

So it’s going down. OK.OK. *Screams endlessly into paper bag*

So now we basically have these two very stubborn and enamored characters, these foils of each other, these two idiots who have become irreparably and desperately bonded to their aliens so much so that they about to pop off over it at each other and embarrass themselves.

Now they are about to have a stubborn animal face off over Spock’s limp body. Mmhmm. Jesus. Here we go, folks.

So when Kirk walks in the very first thing we are beat over the head with is the fact that Miranda is out of her adaptive tech dress that allows her to navigate as she asks “who is it?”; she is completely blind in this moment.

Jim doesn’t answer yet, stewing, pacing, prompting her to ask: “Who’s there?”

Jim: Captain Kirk.

Miranda: I have no news for you, Captain.

Jim: No change?

Miranda: Only that his life processes are ebbing.

Jim: *Begins pacing again* What are you doing about it?

Miranda: Why, what I can, of course.

Jim: Which doesn’t seem to be much!

Miranda: *Smirking* No doubt you think I can wake him with a kiss.

Jim: It’s worth a try, isn’t it? After all, he’s not a machine.

Miranda: But he is a Vulcan.

Jim: *Angrily* Only half. The other half is human! Far more human than you, apparently. (Oh my God Jim is telling her that Spock is more warm than she ever will be I cannot -- )

Miranda: *Yelling* Face reality, captain. His mind has gone down almost too far even for me to reach!

Jim: *Getting in her face* If you don’t reach him soon, he’ll die! But that’s what you want, isn’t it? (OH MY GOD JIM)

Miranda: *Furious* That’s a lie!

*She tries to walk away but Jim f**king grabs and shakes her*

Jim: *Absolutely losing it now with desperation* Oh, yes it is! You want him to die! *Shaking her* What did you do to him on the bridge?! Did you make him forget to put the visor over his eyes?! -

Miranda: YOU’RE INSANE!

Jim: - yes you know your rival, don’t you?! You couldn’t keep him from making a mind-link with Kollos, something that you couldn’t do yourself!

*She fights to get away but Jim clings on to her spinning and wrestling with her*

With my words, I’ll make you hear such ugliness as Spock saw when he looked at Kollos with his naked eyes! The ugliness is within you!

Miranda: That’s a LIE!

*She now again attempts to wrestle out of Jim’s grip and he literally slams her against the wall.*

Jim: LIAR! Your passion to see Kollos is madness! You can never see! Never! But Spock, saw, Kollos . . . and for that he must die.

Miranda: Sadistic, filthy liar!

*She rushes from him, crying and panicked over Spock’s form, but he chases her and grabs her again*

Jim: The smell of hatred! The stench of jealousy permeates you! Why don’t you strangle him while he lies there?!

Miranda: Don’t say anymore, please!

Jim: Kollos knows what’s in your heart! You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to Kollos.

Miranda: *Sobbing* Please, go away.

And Jim gently lets her go, and he slowly backs out of the room, hands fidgeting, this destroyed expression of anguish and helplessness taking him over; the gravity and reality of everything that just happened leading up to this moment.

And he realizes, that very love, the very thing that drove Miranda to her madness of protectiveness and possessiveness over Kollos that he yelled at her for is the very thing that just overtook him in his desperation to save Spock.

Like Miranda and Kollos, Jim loves Spock, desperately, and he values their bond beyond words -- so much so he is willing to go to the brink of madness or even morality to try to save or preserve it, just as Miranda had.

He had even ashamed and startled himself with his own behaviour in that desperate moment. I think he is shocked and a bit frightened by how profound that realization is, on the eve of what he thinks is the loss of Spock. This was distinctly no longer Captain Kirk in the room, but Jim Kirk, throwing somebody around the room in desperation to get them to save somebody he loves. He is utterly devastated; destroyed that he may have just botched this because he let it get far too personal.

He leaves the room. He actually needs to take the wall on the way out because the whole thing physically and emotionally took so much out of him.

Bones: What did you say to her?

Jim: *Looking ill, breathing heavily* Maybe too much.

Bones: What’s she doing in there?

Jim: You may be right, Bones. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone in. She was blind . . . *guiltily* really blind. Really in the dark. And if he dies . . . *He has to collect himself, hitching on the pain of that* . . . if, he, dies . . . how do I know I didn’t kill him? How do I know that she can stand to hear the truth?

Not just the truth about Miranda is being spoken of here, but the truth of both of them: they have both allowed themselves to love a member of an alien species that they met through work, someone things were supposed to be strictly professional with . . . but they formed this deep, unshakeable, life-altering bond together that came to define them both.

Just as Miranda had been so grief-stricken, so helpless, so agonized and tortured over the thought that she might lose Kollos to Spock, Jim was now absolutely torn asunder at the prospect of losing his own intimate, once-in-a-lifetime-bond as a product of Miranda’s jealously.

Jim was right.

Kollos knew Miranda’s heart, and when he looked inside, he would know that Miranda let Spock die out of her own jealous, possessive need to maintain her close bond to Kollos and keep Spock from possibly interfering.

She finally understands; Jim is just like her. A person hopelessly in love in a relationship that nobody else seems to truly understand; agonized at the prospect of being torn from that unique, intimate bond; being rendered completely alone in the universe again without that one person who loves and understands you unconditionally.

Jim is staring down the barrel of not only losing Spock, but he is agonizing over whether or not his desperate, impassioned actions in sickbay with Miranda will directly contribute to his loss of Spock.

And that.

That vulnerable moment from Jim that Miranda unknowingly eavesdrops on is what ultimately convinces her.

When Miranda overhears Jim outside the door in that moment of pure grief and stinging defeat, she truly sees herself in him. She realizes he is every bit as desperate to keep his connection and bond to Spock as she was to keep hers with Kollos; and because of that, knowing how desolate that feels, she must help him.

Miranda: Now, Spock . . . this is to the death . . . or life, for both of us!

Miranda saw it for herself; she realized Jim was not actually some jerk who just randomly throws blind women around the room screaming for the fun of it. He inadvertently made her understand that they are two very kindred spirits indeed.

Two very different people who formed very different bonds with very different aliens, but whose depth of affection, trust, connection and love is very much the same. These parallels also highlight the beauty and diversity to be found in the philosophy of IDIC which is discussed throughout the episode; how even with our great differences, we can still find commonalities to unite us all while our differences make us stronger, not weaker.

Just as Miranda was not a victim of her blindness but was made stronger as a person overall by it, Jim was also not a victim of his past challenges or ghosts -- as he once said, he needs his pain -- for he, too, is made stronger by that which others would perceive as his weakness.

And both Miranda and Jim learned an important lesson about vulnerability that day: That it is OK to need somebody else, to need mutual support, love and understanding in your corner, even if it is just in the form of one and only one other being in the big, wide galaxy.

That parallel between the two bonds of Kirk/Spock and Miranda/Kollos, I feel, is what ultimately convinces Miranda to save Spock’s life.

She realizes it, finally, at the end: Spock means to Jim what Kollos means to me.

And with that understanding, Miranda could not help but try to save him.

Thanks for joining me for yet another heaping Slash Scroll to add to the Sacred Texts of our Slash Heritage Library. Honorary self-proclaimed Spirk PhD “Kirk-Circle” 1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt signing off. LLAP 🖖 💚

Image Sources: TrekCore (If you love TrekCore, please donate to support TrekCore here)

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ofmagicalessence · 2 years

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@queenkean liked for this starter forever ago and you’re finally getting it

“YOU TOLD JASON ABOUT THE GUN?!” Zatanna yelled as she popped into Babs house. She knew Peter was with Jim so it felt like the perfect opportunity to talk to babs. Okay maybe talk was the wrong word. Her heels clicked against the marvel floor as went through the house. Finally finding Babs in the kitchen. She sat herself down at the counter. “WHY would you do that?! “ she exclaimed.

She wasn’t particularly yelling now, but she was definitely worked up. “I DON’T NEED..no..I DON’T WANT him to know about anything I do. He doesn’t get that option. And as my best friend you can’t just give it to him. I know he’s like charming in his own brooding way with that stupid smirk and stuff but NOW he wasn’t to give me LESSONS because I was being irresponsible. I’m a GROWN woman. HELL I’m older than him! He doesn’t get to GHOST me and then just COME back into my life like nothing happened! I mean the absolute gall! At least John has the decency to look me in my face when he knows he’s gonna break my heart. Not to mention to show up with THAI food and then act like he wants to teach me out of the goodness of his heart? Like he fucking CARES?” somewhere down the line the rant moved subjects but she was too far gone now. “Where’s the Bourbon?”

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happi-tree · 3 years

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On The Style and Effectiveness of 1-A Hero Costumes - Part 2/5

Part 2 of this post!

NAVIGATION

Part 1 2 3 4 5

INGENIUM / IIDA TENYA

It’s armor time!!! Behold a man.

What I don’t like:

The costume seems too bulky for a Quirk and fighting style that optimize speed. And while it’s true that cars are pretty bulky but still go fast, it’s equally true that certain types of cars are designed to go faster. The current design reminds me most of a semi or a big SUV, but if the costume was more streamlined along the lines of racecars or sports cars, it would help take off the extra weight that the bulk provides, leaving Iida lighter and more streamlined - therefore, faster.

Some examples of slimmer armor include Go Go Tomago’s from Big Hero 6 and Jim Lake Jr.’s from Trollhunters. And while I get that his body type inherently lends itself to being tank-like, lightening up on the bulk would probably be great for him.

The exhaust pipes out of his back confuse me. They bring some car energy, which is entirely welcome, but they likely hinder balance and motion, which is bad. They leave him looking a little unbalanced, and since so much of his strength and his fighting ability focuses on his lower body, having excess superficial material protruding out of the sides like that doesn’t seem to lend him any favors. And even while it looks cool, it just seems like it would be uncomfortable? Especially since a lot of runners - Iida included - like having full range of their arms to help propel them forward. The pipes might get in the way of that.

Here’s what I like:

The overall aesthetic. I love how this look both makes sense with Iida’s Quirk and personality and plays with elements of his older brother’s costume. It simultaneously puts across some knightly vibes - which is genius, considering how chivalrous and rule-following Iida typically is - and also calls to mind Transformers and cars with the emphasis on the engines and some of the more mecha elements.

The support! Armor is such an easy way to protect yourself while also getting some serious style points. His most essential areas are covered - neck, chest, arms, and legs - which is especially important considering that Iida’s legs are integral to his Quirk and his fighting style. The helmet is also a really good choice, considering this boy is essentially a human car. He looks a bit intimidating wearing it, which is good for fighting Villains, I suppose. Class dad is protected.

And a misc. note:

You know how after Iida’s special Recipro Burst move, he has to wait awhile while his engines cool back down? I think it would be really neat if he implemented some cooling technology into his Hero suit (similarly to Todoroki’s temperature-regulating gear). Theoretically, if he could find something that worked a bit like coolant for his engines, he would have a much quicker reaction time - and speed is the main facet of his Quirk, so it would probably help a lot!

Overall: Very good at providing protection while having a bomb-ass aesthetic. Not quite so good at being built for speed.

I CANNOT STOP TWINKLING / AOYAMA YUUGA

On the other side of the armored spectrum… we have this kid!

What I don’t like:

*Edna Mode voice* NO CAPE! Why do I not like the cape? Capes can snag on stuff very easily and it would be an easy thing for Villains to target and use to unbalance Aoyama. Longer capes are especially susceptible to getting trapped under rubble, torn up, or covered in gunk from the environment (which is not the Look he seems to like). I feel like a shorter cape would get a similar message across while minimizing the potential dangers that a long cape poses. Of course, Aoyama can be trained via experience to utilize his costume effectively with the full-length cape, but when his life and the lives of others are on the line, I’d rather not take that chance.

The shades. I get that they’re iconic, but they’re taking rose colored glasses a bit too seriously. 110% will fall off his face and also messes with the princely Vibe the rest of his costume provides. I do like their Elton John energy, though.

Not a bad thing, but I just want to know how his belt works.

Here’s what I like:

The overall aesthetic. I love how the costume’s obvious “princely knight” vibe reflects so much of Aoyama’s character.

The support here is also really good! Working the belt into the theme of his costume so seamlessly is very innovative and I love that for him. Getting the knee pads and shoulder pauldrons to match his central laser both adds to the uniqueness of the outfit and also pushes that royalty theme since they look very similar to inset gems.

The color scheme. Purple, silver, gold, and black look very classy and regal together, and I appreciate how the royal purple ties back into the concept of European royalty, which is very in-character for this boy. His pantaloon-looking things??? Neato.

Overall: Eh, okay. Ditch the glasses and shorten the cape. Superb, you funky lil knight light.

CREATI / YAOYOROZU MOMO

Here we are! I’m finally taking a crack at one of the most highly debated hero costumes in the entire show, and like a good portion of people, I’m gonna be extremely salty about it. Yaomomo doesn’t deserve this - none of the girls deserve this. These are my thoughts:

What I don’t like:

The absolute lack of support. For any aspect of her. Nothing about this costume is protective (other than maybe the partial high collar). Her most vulnerable areas are exposed, and while it makes sense for easy Quirk usage, it does not make sense for a girl who’s fighting homicidal maniacs on the front lines. The most glaring area in need of support is obviously her chest, as nothing substantial is holding her bust in place. However, so much could be done to work with the benefits of Creation and against its weaknesses that is not being done in this costume. I’ve seen quite a few redesigns that include a sports bra with a front zip closure, which is worlds better. With the show being set in the future, having a slightly mechanized costume with the ability to retract certain pieces at the press of a button would be useful and likely doable considering Yuuei’s own Support department. Gloves would probably be a good idea to give Yaoyorozu a better grip on harder-to-handle Created objects, such as heavy metal machinery.

The over-sexualization is, obviously, disgusting. Nothing about this costume says “Hero.” What it does say, in-universe, is that someone had the absolute gall to approve and send this outfit to a 15-year-old girl about to be thrown headfirst into training for an extremely dangerous profession. It says that giving a person in their freshman year of high school an overly sexualized outfit meant for combat training is okay (it isn’t, for reasons I can’t even begin to explain). This more closely resembles an outfit for a lingerie or swimsuit model than it does for any type of superhero, which alone should be enough to warrant some serious changes - especially, as I have stated, since the girl is only 15!

The overall aesthetic. There is no aesthetic reading for this costume other than “sexy”, which, as I explained above, is very problematic. Sure, the exposed skin makes sense for her Quirk, since she needs access to skin in order to produce items with Creation, but nothing about this outfit denotes anything about her personality. Yaoyorozu Momo is a gentle girl who has been shown to have self-esteem issues from early on in the show, and just knowing that makes me wonder if she feels uncomfortable wearing this. If she’s totally comfortable in this look, good for her! But comfort in our clothing factors so much into our mental states, which translates directly to our physical performance - it’s the same reason why having clothes that fit you and your style well make you feel more confident and more content. And especially if Yaoyorozu wasn’t quite expecting the amount of skin revealed when her costume was given to her, it could likely have added on to her self-esteem issues as seen early in the school year.

The skintight fit of what amounts to a glorified bathing suit is not conducive or acceptable whatsoever. With such a powerful Quirk, Yaoyorozu needs all the protective material she can get - which, as I said in Uraraka’s analysis, is quite simply not possible to fit under that bodycon fabric. Some padding at the very least would work wonders, and bulletproof material would serve her even better.

Once again, heels are not good for any kind of running or fighting! At least it’s a block heel, which is marginally more stable than, say, a stiletto, but still.

The literal bookshelf on her ass. It makes no sense to put it there - it’s an inconvenient place (what if she needs to sit down?) and it looks incredibly awkward to move around with. Besides, there’s absolutely nothing stopping that book from falling at the slightest jostle. At least give her a proper holster or implement it into a toolbelt like some of the boys have.

What’s with the belt? Can it hold emergency supplies? Or is it just there to make it seem like she’s wearing more than a deep v one-piece? I’m at a loss here.

Here’s what I like:

The color scheme. Deep red, white, and pale yellow look good on her! The color ratios are also pretty good in my opinion. Unfortunately, this is the only good thing I can say about her getup.

And to round us out, some misc. notes:

I feel like the book could be done away with entirely and replaced with something digital. This universe is set multiple centuries into the future, and I think something like a holographic data set would look slick, enable for faster search time for whatever info Yaoyorozu would need, and eliminate the bulk problem completely. At the very least, there could be a smartwatch-type gauntlet to pull up info with a larger screen to enable easy reading. Really, the lack of support for Yaoyorozu’s look is devastating because she could go so many directions in creating an outfit that works with her Quirk’s strengths and against its weaknesses.

Overall: Awful, a disgrace, and a disservice to one of the coolest, kindest characters in the class. I would kill for her to get the outfit she deserves.

INVISIBLE GIRL / HAGAKURE TOORU

Wow, look! Two travesties in a row! One more and I get a bingo!

Hagakure, I love you so much, and I am so, so sorry that the yahoos over at the Support company thought that this was a good idea.

What I don’t like:

Uh. The fact that there isn’t a costume. There is literally no in-universe rationalization for this. Surely, they have the technology. Just look at Lemillion! Togata Mirio’s Quirk is literally phasing through materials (including his own clothing) and they made him his own non-phaseable costume by weaving his own DNA into the fabric! Even if they don’t have the technology (they do), I know that Hatsume and probably the rest of the Support students would immediately jump on the chance of creating a fabric with the ability to switch between visible and invisible modes.

Once again, the sexualization of minor Hero students continues to disturb me. Who in their right mind thinks it’s okay to send a naked teenager out into a live battlefield just because she’s less likely to be noticed that way? This line of thought surely doesn’t account for stray bullets or falling debris, nor does it account for this poor girl’s peace of mind. She should be focused on getting the job done and saving people, not worrying about how it’s too cold for her to work properly or how there’s nothing between her body and a loaded gun except for the air between them.

The gloves and shoes seem like they’re kinda. Missing the point of contributing to a stealth Hero costume? Yes, they’re good so that Hagakure can be easily recognized among her allies, but does she just have to stow them wherever when she needs to go fully invisible and hope she can find them once the mission’s over? Plus, Hagakure will always, at the very bare minimum, need something to protect the soles of her feet. Walking barefoot just for everyday civilian stuff would cause a lot of problems, but Heroes likely have a lot of broken glass, broken nails, debris, and other nasty things on the streets where they fight. Tetanus is not fun to have.

Here’s what I like:

The gloves are a nice color, I guess?

Some misc. notes:

I gotta say, I’ve seen SO many good takes on outfit redesigns for Hagakure (same with Yaoyorozu) and the fandom collectively has some wonderful ideas on how to go about creating a costume for her. Personally, I think it would be cool if she had a full-body suit that could change between visible and invisible modes - that way, she would be easy to identify in head counts and it would likely be easier to see places where she could be injured after a fight. At the very, very least they could pull a Lemillion and have her outfit infused with something from her own DNA so it can disappear as she does while leaving her at least covered.

Overall: So, so bad. Please give this girl a suit. I’m tired.

TLDR Part 2:

Great Costumes:

Good: Iida

Okay: Aoyama

Questionable:

Bad:

The Absolute Worst: Yaoyorozu, Hagakure

#happi rambles #anime #bnha #walk walk fashion baby #meta #iida tenya #aoyama yuuga #yaoyorozu momo #hagakure tooru #and here's part two!#as I said earlier I'll link everything together once all parts are posted and I'm sorry if I didn't catch some spelling/grammar errors #long post #class 1A costume analysis

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missaudreyhorney · 4 years

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jealous!Hopper headcanon

This is my very first HC request and I had so much fun writing it. It did take a while to brainstorm though because there were so many things that I wanted to add. It came out longer than I thought, but I’m pretty sure there’s still stuff that I accidentally left out, stuff like him saying “Only I’m allowed to see you like this” which is a paraphrased quote from “Change Of Scenery” by Duchess_Of_Brighton on AO3.

As you may or may not know from the ask about angry!Hopper, I personally prefer him a bit on the meaner side so I hope this is to your liking. (Disclaimer: this is obviously a fantasy and I don’t condone anyone acting like this IRL.) Some parts are slightly NSFW but I don’t go into detail.

Many of Jim Hopper’s bad habits have improved since he started leaving Eggos in the woods, but that doesn’t mean he’s been able to tame his wild jealous streak. He doesn’t think of you as his property per se, but both of you would agree that you belong to him completely. The feeling of ownership he has over you brings you great comfort and solace. He is therefore territorial with you, some might even say possessive.

This is why he likes to touch you when you’re in public together, so that it’s obvious to everyone around you that you are his and only his. Hopper usually does this by resting one of his hands on your lower back, the weight of it comforts you and makes you feel safe. When he spots someone’s gaze lingering on you just a little too long, he’ll pull you towards him and give you a fiery, passionate kiss. Although this happens with increasing frequency, it still manages to catch you off guard every time. On special occasions, he will wrap his baseball glove of a hand around your smaller, softer one and hold it in his. This is when you feel the most protected and cared for.

The hickies and the bruises that he gives you are a more primal sign of ownership, almost like a temporary branding. The first few times Hopper left marks on you, you were annoyed, but the more he does it, the more you love to show them off. It's a warning label to anyone who looks at you. It tells them that not only are you spoken for, but by a man who isn’t afraid to be rough, a man who will absolutely destroy anyone who disrupts a single hair on your head. (I could do another headcanon solely about marking.)

Sometimes you’ll be at the grocery store and even just the checker being friendly to you gets Hopper’s nostrils flaring and his hands balling into fists. You smile at him and give him a look to calm him down, a look that says it's okay. While that reaction in him is cute at times, it’s also silly and unnecessary. You have absolutely no interest in any other man besides Jim Hopper and he has zero reasons to worry about you being with anyone else. That’s not the problem though. He trusts you, he just doesn’t trust everyone else around you. He knows how handsy men can get and he does not take kindly to anyone else touching what is rightfully his.

However, there is in fact a small reason for him not to trust you, because twice now you have intentionally made him jealous. The first time was when you were on one of your dates together. A man closer to your own age flirted with you and you flirted right back, knowing that Hopper was watching you the entire time. Once he had seen enough of your grotesque display, he ordered you outside and you obeyed with both fear and excitement coursing through your veins. When you got back to his truck, he yelled at you and made you bend over in the back of it, spanking you to teach you a lesson. Hopper turned your ass bright red right there in the parking lot, and oh boy, was it painful to sit down in the car ride afterward. It hurt even worse upon returning to his place, where he pounded into you from behind.

The second time, you employed the same routine but got a slightly different response from Hopper. Like before, a man approached you flirtatiously and you immediately reciprocated. Unlike before, Hopper knew right away what you were trying to do so at first, he pretended to ignore you. You turned up your charm and your giggle to get his attention, but once you had it, he remained calm. Not getting a reaction from him pissed you off and you weren’t about to admit defeat so easily. You leaned your body a little closer to the guy and he had the gall to put his arm around you. It made you tense up, but he didn’t seem to notice. Beginning to regret your decision, you shot Hopper a nervous smile as he continued to watch with a blank expression. It wasn’t until the guy moved his hand from your shoulder to your waist that he decided to intervene. “Hey pal, you moving in on my girl?” You couldn’t help but smile, genuinely this time, at his pointed words. The guy backed away with his hands up, obviously not wanting any trouble. “I didn’t know she was with anyone.” He got into the guy’s face, not because he needed to but because he knew that’s the reaction you were seeking. “Is that why you’re putting your hands on her?” he interrogated, his tone intensified. “I’m sorry, man,” the guy said as he took another step back. “Come on!” Hopper demanded as he wrapped his arm around your waist, practically pulling you out the door. When you arrived at the cabin, he still spanked you to the point that it made you cry, but this time it was because he was fully aware that being a brat was your way of asking him for it without saying the words.

There was at least one time you can recall with perfect clarity that his jealous rage was warranted and used for good. The two of you were at The Hideaway, getting a drink after work. Hopper had gone into the men’s room on your way to leave and when he came out, some asshole was hassling you, grabbing you by the wrist and asking “what’s a pretty girl like you doing alone in a place like this?” You looked over at Hop, who was immediately seething with anger, and you replied calmly “I’m not alone”. The sleazy man let go of you just in time for you to slip away before Hop swooped in with a mean left hook straight into the guy’s jaw. The bartender yelled for him to take it outside, and Hop gladly did, grabbing the jerk by the back of the neck then dragging him outside, and hurling him onto the pavement. He beat the absolute shit out of that guy and you loved it. You felt exhilarated, like you had never seen something so visceral and sexy in your whole life. He held on tightly to your thigh the entire way home and once you were there, you fucked each other like wild animals for the rest of the night.

You almost wish that Lonnie Byers would come back to Hawkins and hit on you. You’re not attracted to him, but from the way you’ve heard he treats Joyce and his sons, you would love nothing more than for Hopper to beat his ass to a bloody pulp.

A lot of people, if not most, would be horrified to be with someone who gets jealous at such slight provocations. Not you though. You appreciate his intensity, it makes you feel desired and well taken care of. You know Jim Hopper well enough to be fully aware that he only gets this way because he cares about you, because he’s a passionate person who just doesn’t know how to express himself. Even if he won’t fully admit it to himself or to you, he gets this way because he loves you. He holds onto you with an iron grip because his greatest fear is losing you just like he’s lost so much already in his life.

#Jim Hopper headcanon #Jim Hopper HC #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #Hopper x Reader #Hopper x You #Hopper HC #im just practicing #jealous!Hopper #I did it #hard Jim Hopper #female reader

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cto10121 · 3 years

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Romeo, Juliet, & Jim—Review Part 2

In which Jim has a secret, Romeo mysteriously ditches his suspicion of Jim in favor of trusting him as the narrative decrees, and Juliet shows stunning hypocrisy/double standards regarding the Romeo/Rosaline PR pose

Juliet’s stomach lurched and she thought she might pass out. How easily he went from holding her hand and feeling like hers to dancing in synchronized steps with Rosaline. I thought it was so awful for you to be with people who weren’t me, she told him silently.

Oh, no, no, no, no, book, you’re not going to pull out this insecurity bullshit!!! Not from Juliet “I forgave Romeo for killing my cousin” Capulet. Come to the fuck on!!! (For context, this is the FIRST time she has seen Romeo and Rosaline together, obviously and explicitly for appearances).

Why was it so easy for Romeo to be handled by Rosaline, when to Juliet, a touch from anyone else felt wrong?

This is after Juliet gets the ~feels for the mysterious American Jim, so let’s add BS hypocrisy on top of BS insecurity.

Her guilt over a dreamed dalliance was screwing up her fury at Romeo’s real indiscretion. […]

“That guy is in love with you. Whatever was up with the model thing yesterday is pure publicity.”

Now Juliet stopped. “Did he tell you that? She’s just ‘publicity’? Of course that’s what he’ll say,” she said. “But that is not what I saw.”

Juliet is already losing IQ points and it’s absolutely maddening.

He’d tracked Juliet from her house yesterday to the Love-Lock Bridge, then to that hotel in the Thirteenth. He hadn’t expected Romeo and Juliet to come to that bar, or to need an escape.

Less random and more plausible—turns out Jim is the son of the Redmond guy who wants to buy out Montague and Capulet’s companies. Okay, book, good call.

As she continued to speak, her confidence rose. Her cheeks were flushed but not in the way that suggested anything more than warm lights and enthusiasm. She had a magnetism that came through even on the tiny screen. She radiated love and warmth, and Romeo felt almost jealous of the audience, like they were enjoying the comfort of her that he wanted to belong only to him.

Awwwwwww. No really, awwwwww.

How had he never paid more attention to this side of her before, realized her full power? He was stupid—an ignorant male.

And now “stupid, an ignorant male” and “creepy Italian groomer” are having a fight in my mind over which is better. Who would win? You decide!

After Rosaline, she merited better prose than “Let’s meet.” They might as well have been a study group.

This Juliet is giving me agita. Shakespeare!Juliet, I’m so sorry.

It should have made a person courageous and brave. Maybe it was time to ask him point-blank: Was Romeo keeping her at bay just so he could meet her in hotel rooms while he took models to fancy parties? Or was he too scared to really risk anything for her? Both options galled her.

And you’re galling me, Juliet! Also, Romeo “Thy kinsmen are no let to me” Montague? Too scared to risk it all? I’ll eat my shoes.

Jim lifted a hand in that sort-of wave guys did that seemed to exist as a gesture only to prove to other guys that yes, you were here but no, you weren’t girly and excited about it. Romeo returned the gesture, his not-wave saying, Yeah, you’re here. Doesn’t matter.

Jim and Romeo are men, you see. Man-men, manly men, the manliest men that ever manned. Typical bro-dude-men doing typical bro-dude-manly things like boxing and being rivals over a woman. ‘Cause they’re men.

Responding to life—good and bad—like it didn’t matter to you was a hard-and-fast rule of being a guy. It kind of stunk.

I’ll be honest, I have no witty retort for this one. It’s on that borderline between genuinely insightful and awful.

Romeo hopped into the ring, feeling confident. “Let’s box first, then talk.”

“Opposite of how girls do it, isn’t it?” Jim said, grinning.

Jim and Romeo are men, you see. Man-men, manly men, the manliest men that ever—

“What I’m trying to say, in my own equally lame way, is that I think you and Juliet are something special,” Jim said. “Let me talk to her for you. […]

Romeo stood up. “Yeah, it would be great if you could talk to her for me.”

And now is Romeo’s turn to lose some IQ points. Romeo has so far spent the last 150 pages being jealous and/or suspicious of Jim and engaging in typical dick-measuring, but now all of a sudden he is perfectly fine with letting him talk to Juliet about something as important to their relationship as possible cheating???? The flags are billowing gently in the wind, but they are still red, buddy.

Juliet emitted a violent breath and pounded a fist on her knee. “What is wrong with you? You send him to tell me that your feelings are real but then you doubt me? He’s my friend. He is your friend. You must stop this.”

The hypocrisy continues!!! Meanwhile Juliet takes it for granted that he is having a real affair with Rosaline. I can’t believe one iota of this character’s reality. Again—Shakespeare!Juliet, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

#romeo and juliet #cristina reads #romeo juliet and jim #the clusterfuck continues #also is it just me or is juliet consistently more violent than romeo? re: punching stuff

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babbushka · 4 years

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Two’s Company (3/5)

1989 and New York City is a mess. Life was shit for all but you and Pale, who found that among the rubble and rubbish, there existed peace and calm and hard hot fucking. That is, until, an unwanted visitor makes themselves known, throwing this happy dream into a tumultuous nightmare.

Pale x Reader ; Chapter 3 of my sequel to Blue Moon!

Word count: 7.3k ; Warnings: Angst, drug mention, minor violence

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You almost wanted to laugh when you saw her.

Almost.

Not because she’s funny, just because she’s almost exactly how you pictured her. She’s standing at the door, at his door, at your door, in a long brown fur coat, hair teased to high heavens, pearl necklace around her neck and pretty white heels on her feet. She’s standing there smokin’ a Virginia Slims, has it stuck between her two fingers that are manicured and polished with long red acrylics.

She may have moved to Miami, but she was still very much a Jersey woman.

A Jersey woman who, while neither in Jersey or Miami, was standing there, at the door, staring you down.

“That’s right, I’m his fucking wife.” She sneered, shifted her weight back and forth making her hips bob up and down like she’s hot shit. She appraised you, looked down on you up up up in those heels of hers, smoked her cigarette. “And what are you, his whore?”

Well, you thought, Jersey women have nothin’ on the women from Queens.

“Yeah,” You said, stepping around Pale from where you had been holdin’ him back, stepping around him and stepping into her space, crowding her, teeth bared at her, “I am his whore.”

Her eyebrows shot up at that, not expecting you to be proud of it. But how could you not? How could you be anything other than proud of Pale, of your man? You’d shout it off the fire escape for all the city to hear, you didn’t give a shit.

She looks like she’s distraught then, right in that moment, and she barreled further into the apartment, threw herself down onto the couch in the living room. You wanted to scoff because fuck, you’ve never seen someone acting so badly, crocodile tears running mascara down her cheeks.

“God, Jim, did you have to stoop so low? I leave you for what, three years? And you stoop this low.” She wailed and wailed, loud and mighty, accent thick and voice pitched high, “Shacking up with some tramp, how much do you pay her huh? How much does she get for suckin’ your cock?”

And just like that the tears are gone, replaced with the hard stare of a woman scorned.

Your patience had worn out, officially drained at the accusation, the assumption, and you marched over to the living room, yanked her off of your couch by her ankle, sent her crashing to the floor with a sharp, hey!

“Nothin! He gives me nothing! And I don’t ask for anything unlike you!” You shouted, losing it, losing your patience. You had been having such a good fucking day, such a wonderful fucking evening, before she crashed it and ruined it like she did everything else. You had never even met this woman, and she had already ruined everything.

“Unlike you I love this man. I love him more than you ever fucking did, could, or would. I chose him and he chose me and I love him. I don’t go abandonin’ him for three fuckin’ years – do you even hear the words comin’ outta your mouth?” You snapped, all in her face, and she’s standing again, scrambling to not let you have the upper hand.

She jabbed you in the shoulder again and again, antagonizing you, and you only could grit your teeth.

“Oh yeah right you love him, bullshit. Bullshit, how much is he paying you?” She demanded to know, hysterical, absolutely hysterical.

“I’m not a fucking prostitute!” You didn’t know how many times you were going to have to fucking explain it, but you were getting sick of trying. “And you know what, even if I were, I’d have more dignity than you.”

You almost didn’t register it when she slapped you, hard across the face with those nails of hers. All you knew was that you were on the floor, a stinging burning pain already numbing your cheek.

Without a second fucking thought, you swiped her leg, sent her crashing down to the ground, and an all-out brawl began.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had to fight someone, the last you had ever even thought about fighting someone. It had to have been in high school, had to have been years ago. But like most things in life, it all came rushin’ back when you needed it, when you had to put up your fists and defend yourself. And it was defending yourself, but it was more than that – it was defending your man.

Your man, who, was standing stunned for all of one minute before inserting himself into the middle of where the two of you were goin’ after one another.

“Hey get the fuck off of her!” He pried Barbara away from you, grabbed at the back of her neck and hoisted her up like she was some feral cat, “Why are you here – where are the kids?”

“They’re still in Florida you piece of shit, God, how’d I know I’d find you like this?” Barbara was out of breath, panting, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand to smear away some blood from where you had clocked her pretty good.

You were still on the floor, and Pale unceremoniously dropped his seething wife to come to your aid. He crouched down next to you, so tender, hands all over you to check for serious damage. You could feel the sharp sting of scratches from her nails, and your scalp hurt where she had yanked on your hair, but other than that, the most overwhelming thing was the adrenaline thudding thudding thudding in your ears, in your brain.

“You don’t get to fucking call him that, not after what you did to him.” You said, voice hoarse and angry, so angry for him, for Pale.

“What I did?” Barbara scoffed, already reaching into her purse and pulling out a fancy golden compact, checking her appearance.

“Yeah, what you did, you cunt.” You scoffed right back, absolutely fucking incredulous at this woman, at the gall of her, the nerve of her. Pale helped you stand up, and you indelicately re-tied your robe, concealing your body from where the sash had come undone in the scuffle, all the while continuing, “You think I don’t know? You think I didn’t find out about all the shit you did to him, said to him, made him do?”

“Jimmy didn’t do nothin’ he didn’t want to do.” Barbara shook his head and that’s when Pale decided to speak up again.

“That’s a fuckin’ lie and you know it.” And now he’s shouting, now he’s angry angry angry, and you sigh, because fuck all you had wanted for tonight was for him to relax, him to enjoy himself. “What do you want from me, how come you’ve been blowin’ up my fuckin’ phone this whole goddamned time?”

“I thought it’d be obvious you jackass, I’m here to take you back!” Barbara shouted, leaving both you and Pale speechless.

You looked at one another, and then at her, and then back at one another, both of your mouths agape.

“…What?” Pale asked, not even angry, not even yelling, just…so fucking confused.

You were both so confused.

You needed a drink to deal with this, needed something.

Without another word, you left to go into the kitchen, to rummage around for a bottle of whiskey and two clean glasses. Barbara and Pale were still arguing in the living room, but thanks to the new modern open plan design, you were still privy to all of it.

“Yeah, you know. I’m here to bring you back home.” Barbara tried explaining to an only dumbfounded Pale.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He asked, asked seriously, like he was worried she had hit her head too hard when you had knocked her to the ground.

“Pale is home.” You tried getting that through her thick skull, but that only started up the yelling again.

“Pale Pale Pale!” She shouted, yelled, snapped, spit, “That’s not his fucking name, his name is James, Jimmy if you’re friendly – if you’re his wife.” She was close to hysterics again and you were genuinely worried that the cops were gonna get called, that the neighbors were gonna file a noise complaint.

You had half a mind to call the cops yourself, but no, there was too much drug shit out in the open, and that could get the both of yous in trouble. So you poured the drinks instead, handed a shakin’ glass to Pale who downed nearly half the cup in one big gulp.

“Yeah well you ain’t my fuckin’ wife no more Barbie, don’t you get that?” He asked, sat himself down on the couch.

“What are you – ” She started, and he only sighed, sick of yelling.

He motioned for you to come over to him, to sit on his lap, and you did, of course you did. You carried the second glass over and settled right on his knee, sitting sideways and loopin’ your arms around his neck in the way you always did, kissed at his cheek in the way you always did.

You wondered how that looked to Barbara, who stood all by herself, awkwardly on the other side of the room. You hoped she felt uncomfortable, hoped she felt awful, for coming in here and starting this shit.

“Do you see a ring on my fuckin’ finger? Huh?” Pale asked, “Do you see your ugly mug all over the walls, do you see your clothes in my closet? No. I meant what I said down in Miami. I can’t believe you burned my money to fly up here just to piss me off and attack my girl – that’s a real new fuckin’ low for you.”

“Last time I checked I didn’t sign no divorce papers.” Barbara crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a challenging stare, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Because you had to be the biggest fucking cunt you could!” He sounded truly exasperated now, and you let your arm stroke up and down his chest where it too was exposed from the robe starting to fall open, “I begged you to fuckin’ sign them, don’t think I wanted to stick around, I didn’t have a god damned choice, you didn’t give me a choice.”

“So you cheat on me.” Barbara pouted, all sad eyes that you all knew would get her nowhere. Jesus, you thought, what a fucking manipulator, especially when her chin wobbled with false sorrow and she began to cry again, “You don’t cheat on someone you love, Jimmy!”

“Well maybe I don’t fucking love you anymore!” Pale threw up his arms, let them fall back down with a smack on his muscular thighs, “Maybe I don’t love you anymore.”

You wondered just then, in the dark of the living room, if they had ever talked about this. If this was the first time any of this discussion was actually coming to light. The way Barbara’s expression began to change and shift from anger to sadness to confusion said that maybe they hadn’t.

“What?” She asked, quiet in a way that was loud.

You just sat there, on Pale’s lap, watching his hand clench and unclench, watching his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath and gave her a hard stare right back.

“Maybe I haven’t loved you for a real long fuckin’ time.” Pale said, and you could see the way she visibly flinched, could see how those words stung. “How is it cheatin’ on you when I ain’t hear from you for 11 months outta the year, huh? How is it cheatin’ on you when you’re a thousand fucking miles away? You told me, Barbie, you told me.”

“Oh yeah, what’d I tell you?” She asked, defiant.

“’I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of being here – tired of you.’” Pale recited, a line from a letter you had read a year ago.

It hurt you to know that Pale had it memorized. You wondered how many times he had read the letter she left, wondered how many times he had scanned the lines again and again. You wondered how it felt, to come home after working a twenty hour day, and finding your family packed up and gone away.

You never wanted to find out.

“Yeah okay okay, sure, paint me as the bad guy.” Barbara grumbled, lit up a cigarette, and your temper came back, all sympathy for her gone.

“You are the bad guy! Are you delusional? Are you high? Did the flight fuck up your braincells?” You asked.

Pale’s grip on you tightened, which you thought was kinda funny, because it was like him preventing you from lunging at her throat, preventing you from springing off of his lap and tackling her to the ground. You didn’t know what had come over you today, why you were so aggressive.

You were just so annoyed at this woman.

“Did you know?” She asks instead of answering you, not that you really wanted an answer anyway.

“Did I know what?” You shot right back, even though you do, you did.

“That he was married? Did you know.” She clarifies, and you do laugh then.

“Yeah of course I fucking knew.” You said, said it like she was stupid, because really she had to be stupid. “I knew and I didn’t give a shit because I figured he ain’t got a good marriage anyways, if he’s out here fucking me all day and night.” You pointed out, and maybe she didn’t expect that either, because her eyebrows shot up and she turned her attention back to him.

“You fucked her?” She asked Pale, but you didn’t take too nicely to being talked over, talked about like you weren’t even there.

“We were fuckin’ just now, and havin’ a real good god damned time about it too until you came to ruin the mood.” You said, and she looked so confused, as if it were a shock anyone would enjoy sex with Pale.

“Why is it his birthday or something?” She asked, and Pale got up then, shifted you off of his lap and stood up, downed the rest of the whiskey and sighed out real low and long.

“Sixteen years we were together and you don’t even know it’s my birthday.” He said, swirling the last stubborn drop of the drink round and round in the glass before setting it down on the coffee table. He turned away, fully intending on heading back to the bedroom, tired of wanting to deal with this insufferable person anymore. “Why am I not surprised, you selfish bitch.”

He got only a couple steps in, before Barbara lit a new cigarette and blew the smoke out through her nose like some ugly beast and said,

“I wish you had died instead of your queer brother.”

Pale stopped walking then, his legs coming to a screeching halt, like he had been struck by lightning, lost in time and space.

“Get out of my apartment.” You said, turning to face her.

“Your apartment?” She challenged, but you weren’t in the mood to entertain her, not now or ever again.

“Get out!” You snapped, your heart breaking for Pale who was still so quiet, so still, frozen frozen frozen.

He’s still frozen when she finally realizes that she’s unwanted, unwelcome.

When she leaves, she leaves all the tension in the air. It’s so thick you felt like you could cut it with a knife, and that loud silence is back. It’s just you and Pale again, in the penthouse. Just you and him, together and alone at last, and Pale still hasn’t spoken, and that’s more unsettling to you than anything else, because Pale never shuts up.

“Honey, don’t listen to her.” You said softly, taking a careful step around to the front of him, to see how he aches, how his face is pinched with sadness.

There’s wetness in his big brown eyes, a shine that’s reflecting all the lights from the city outside, and when you go to cup his cheek, you can tell he is torn between embracing you and pushing you away.

“She’s right.” He whispers after some time, after deciding to embrace you, after letting you smooth your hand over his cheek, rub small circles there.

“Pale, she isn’t.” Your voice cracks, and then you’ve got tears in your eyes too, because his are sliding down his nose.

How had everything gone to shit in so short of a time? Only moments ago it felt like you were both in paradise, on top of the moon. Now, the world felt dark and grey and the familiar face of grief has reared its ugly head in your man’s chest, has stoked the fire of his mourning, has caused that sick guilt to surface once again.

Pale fell to his knees before you, wrapped his arms around your legs. He let out a long, anguished shout, one that had you gasping, one that had you cradling his head against your stomach, desperately trying to soothe him as those wracking sobs hit him once again.

You’d kill her, you decided, right there in that moment, if she ever showed up again. You’d go to the fancy knife block and kill her, for what she’s done, what she did, what she’s doing.

Pale shudders and shakes beneath your palms, and you want to kill her.

“No, she is. She’s right, it should have – it shoulda been me.” He shoves his face between the soft plush fabric of your robe, shoves it up into your skin, buries his face in your flesh as he hiccups and cries, “I shoulda been the one to kick the fuckin’ bucket, not Robbie, it shouldn’t have been Robbie – ”

He’s wrecked, wrecked from this, and you cursed under your breath because he had been doin’ so good lately, hadn’t been so raw lately.

But now, now it was nothing but raw, grief pure and brutal and angry.

You’re angry for him.

You’re heartbroken for him.

“Come here, come here.” You say, voice soft and gentle. He needs soft, needs gentle. God knows he never got it, never got it when he needed it, from Barbara or anyone else. “Let’s go back to bed, okay? It’s cold out here, you’re going to get cold.”

And you know he doesn’t, won’t, not really. He runs so hot, but still. Something about sadness made people grow cold, and though his skin is sweating and warm, you know inside he’s gotta be feeling the chill of it.

“(Y/N),” He sounds so young then, so young. Not like the nearly-forty that he was, and you only keep trying to coax him up up up into your arms. He finally rises, winds his arms around you, holds you so tight as he cries into your shoulder, “(Y/N) it shoulda been me.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” You assure him, wanting him calm, needing him calm. Calm before he hurts himself somehow, mind flashing back to a year ago when he had stumbled in, drunk and high out of his mind, bleeding all over your floor. You hug him, ground him, soothe him, all the while telling him, “Come on.”

He lets himself be led into the bedroom, and you sigh.

All around the carpeting are scraps and pieces of black lace where only an hour or two prior, he had been so happy, so eager to tear them off of your body, a birthday gift just for him. Now the whole evening was destroyed, and you watced with sad eyes as he collected himself enough to strip off his robe, let it fall to the ground.

He sat naked on the mattress and you watched as it dipped under the sturdy weight of him. He patted his lap but you hesitated only for a moment, deciding he could probably, desperately use a cigarette. So instead of going right to his lap like you normally always would, instead you walked to the night-table where he always kept a few extra packs of Barclays.

You stuck one in between your teeth, holding it just long enough to light it. Only when it was lit did you shuck your robe off too, did you move to where he was waiting for you, did you give it to him and climb into his lap.

“Here.” You said, pressing the cigarette between his own lips, and he eagerly sucked down the nicotine.

“Thank you, thank you – fuck – oh god, fuck.” He said, tears stinging stinging stinging has he smoked and smoked, trying to let the flood in his lungs soothe him from the inside out.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Is all you said, not wanting to push him, but wanting him to know he was safe with you, could let it all out with you.

With his grip on you tight, he moved the two of you backwards so you were lying down, on top of the messed up covers, greyish blusish smoke wafting up into the air.

Pale was crying into your hair, but it was a quiet cry this time, not the shuddering gasping mess he had been only a few minutes before. You in his arms soothed him more than the cigarettes ever did, but you knew they helped, were glad that they helped.

“He didn’t deserve to die,” Pale said, sighed, eyes pinched shut, “It shoulda been me. No one woulda cared if it was me. No one would be surprised, they’d say ‘oh yeah that’s about right’ if they’d heard it was me. Family fuckup, that’s me. Not doin’ nothin’ with my life, failed career failed marriage failed – ”

“That’s not true.” You shook your head, craning your neck up to look at him from where you were curled against his chest, a familiar comforting weight on his body.

“It is! It is.” He insisted, flicked his ash onto the carpeting, “Robbie was gonna be somebody. Anna…Anna said he was good, he was the best. He was gonna be somebody, (Y/N). What am I? How am I better?” He asked, and you frowned.

You didn’t know who Anna was, didn’t know, didn’t care. She didn’t matter, it’d been a year and he’d never mentioned her, so you figured she couldn’t matter much. Robbie mattered -- but Robbie wasn’t Pale’s fault.

“We’re all gonna be somebody. All of us in our own way, doing our own thing. Your career ain’t failed, it’s just gettin’ started. You have so much ahead of you, and you know that. You know it.” You said, and he pinched at your nose, smiled sadly at you. You smiled right back, sighed and with a nasal voice you said, “I would have cared.”

“You wouldn’t have known me.” Pale let out a deep big breath then, and you could feel the tension starting to melt from his shoulders, could see the tears starting to slow.

“I still would have cared.” You insisted, rolling onto your back and tugging him against your chest, letting him settle his head on your breast, letting him smoke and smoke and breathe just how he needs to. You carded your fingers through his hair, lightly scratched against his scalp and licked your lips, wet your dry throat, “I woulda felt something out there, in the great big unknown. I woulda felt it, you goin’. I would’ve cared.”

“C-can you keep talkin’? Please? Fuck, I can’t – please just – please?” Pale whispers, eyes closing, mouth sucking down the last of the cigarette all the way down to the filter.

You nodded, let your own eyes close too.

“You know I heard once, a long time ago, maybe I read it, I dunno; that when a person dies and there’s no one to mourn em, the sadness has nowhere to go. So it wanders around and around, lookin’ for somewhere to live, someone’s chest to be there to feel it. I think the same is true for love, you know? When someone’s got all this love to give and no one to give it to, it wanders too. I think you were wanderin’, your love was searching, and it led you to me. And I’m grateful for that, that I get to house your love, instead of your mournin’. But I would have taken your mournin’ too.”

In your head it was calm and peaceful, all the rage you had felt long gone.

Outside, snow began to fall. Soft flurries that whirled past the window, wind whipped in pretty swirls. You felt like you were in a snowglobe, felt like this penthouse was you and Pale’s own personal world, kept safe and warm and contained, away from the big bad world outside.

Pale was breathin’ against you, gently, softly, but you knew he wasn’t asleep.

“I ain’t got many people, you know? Before you, I had a couple of friends I saw every month or so, a couple regulars at the diner. I got Fish and Chaya but they’re like parents to me, my parents in a suburb a suburb away. I think I had too much love too, and it was wanderin’ too, and there you were, angry and big and crass and willin’ to take it all.”

You continued, let your fingers twist in and around his soft locks, glad that he had washed his hair with you that morning. You loved the way it feathered and fell through your fingers, silky wavy and black as midnight.

You wondered if it was midnight now, if it was later. You couldn’t see the clock, didn’t want to even open your eyes to look.

“You didn’t have to take it all, but you did. You coulda fucked me and been done, a one night stand with a stranger, but you stayed. And you kept comin’ back, and I kept lovin’ you. Right from day fuckin’ one I loved you.” You said, quietly, voice so quiet and yet loud enough that there was no way to miss what you were saying, “I woulda cared.”

You and Pale laid there for a long time, the two of yous just soaking in the feeling of one another.

You wondered if he had been scared, when Barbara showed up. If he had been worried. Maybe he thought that once you saw her, you’d be angry with him, you’d want to leave him. Maybe he thought she’d convince you to leave him, like she had done years and years ago.

You wondered now, if he was relieved, that you hadn’t. That you weren’t planning on going anywhere, nowhere at all. You were his, pure and simple.

It snows outside, and Pale sighs, but this time it’s not so shaky as it had been. This time, it’s more resigned than anything else, as he pinches the cigarette between his fingers.

He gets up off of your chest to stick the butt of it in the ashtray, to squash it down. You take the opportunity to get more comfortable, to get onto the bed properly, instead of having your legs hanging down over the side of the mattress like the had been.

Pale puts out the cigarette and slides under the covers, the two of you facing one another.

“You woulda loved him.” Pale said finally, after a real long time of being quiet. “Robbie, I mean. You two woulda gotten along like two fuckin’ peas in a pod. You both have that light. Some people are real dark, heavy. But not you, not…not Robbie. He was light. You woulda loved him.”

“Where’s he at?” You asked, reaching out a hand for him.

“How’s that?” He frowns just a little, taking it nonetheless, rushing to grasp it in his own hands.

His hands were so much bigger than yours, and you smile a little at the sight of it.

“The cemetery, which one?” You clarified, and he hums, trying to think.

“Jersey City,” He replied after searching through the memories in his brain, “He’s in Jersey City.”

“We should go, one day. One day soon, I think. We should go visit him.” You suggested, and his eyes widen just a little.

“You would go do that? You’d go with me to see him?” He asked, and your heart broke all over again, at the sheer surprise of the question.

“Yeah, I would.” You nodded, squeezing his hand real tight, scooting yourself forward on the bed enough so that you can press your forehead up against his, “I’d do anything for you.”

Pale didn’t say anything to that, just nodded his head up and down real slow, leaned in to kiss you even slower.

His lips felt like the words coolest drink against yours, and you wondered how anyone could be so cruel to him, so heartless. He was tough, yes, rough around the edges, even more so. But underneath all that – and not even very deep underneath – he was just another kicked dog desperate for love.

And as you settle against him, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you, all the aches and pains from the hard fucking all coming rushing to your joints, you decided that no matter how rough around the edges he was, you’d always give him that, that love.

---------------

You don’t remember falling asleep, but then again, does anyone? You don’t remember waking up either, and that’s always a little strange; that fleeting moment where you’re fighting the day, trying desperately to cling on to whatever little sleep you managed to get.

But the day has won, and sleep has lost this round, and you’re stretching your limbs out and rousing Pale in your wake, as you stick your freezing feet between his legs and he groaned to life.

“What day is it?” He grumbled, making you have to do mental calculations for a minute.

“Sunday?” You said, not entirely sure, but that sounded right.

“Thank fuck.” Pale huffed, making you chuckle. Sundays were your day to be wholly and completely together, without a care in the world. Monday could be dealt with when it arrived, and all the baggage and bullshit that went with it, but Sundays were special, just for the two of you. Pale reached down and grasped your ankles, making you laugh and laugh as he pried your cold feet from his overly warm skin, asking, “Did yesterday really happen?”

“Yeah.” Your laughs died down a little, “I’m sorry.”

The both of you finally succumbed to being awake fully and completely, getting up out of bed to go walk barefoot and naked to the bathroom. Pale always let you use the toilet first, something of a gentleman. You both brushed your teeth side by side, pinching and poking at one another to make the time go by just a little bit faster, so that you could crawl back into bed together feeling more like humans.

“Why the fuck are you sorry?” Pale asked after spitting out toothpaste and rinsing his mouth, gargling alcohol disguised as mouthwash, blue into the sink.

“Because she ruined your birthday.” You replied, following suit.

“She ruins every birthday.” Pale sighed, before turning to you more fully and groping your tits right there in the bathroom, pinchin’ at your nipples as he let a small smile grace his lips when he asked for a, “Kiss?”

You were glad to see he wasn’t still so fucked up about it, last night had you worried, more worried than you’d been in a long time about him. But he was okay now, looked okay anyway. And you kissed him, with no hesitation, no thinkin’, just love.

He smiled against you more fully, pushed you up onto the bathroom counter. You winced a little as your bare ass hit the cold marble, but that shock only lasted for a moment. Pale was already wriggling his way between your legs, prying your knees open.

Surprisingly though, he didn’t shove his cock right into you like he was wont to do most mornings. No, you knew he’d fuck you later in the warm light of the living room, languid and slow. He wasn’t gentle, but he could be slow.

No, instead of fucking you right there, he instead used the grey morning light to inspect your body. A long time ago in a leaky bathtub you had once joked that a wild animal had mauled you, and you couldn’t help but feel that way now. You were covered in marks and bruises, ones he pressed his thumb into and made you hum out in pleasure-pain.

His hands roved across your skin, searching for something, you didn’t know what. You just watched his face, looked at him. You loved him like this, sleep-rumpled. His hair was a train wreck, and his face a little blotchy and red from the night before, but he was handsome and at peace, at least for the moment, before he started bitching and moaning about whatever it was that was bugging him.

You knew what he’d be bitching about today.

Eventually, he found what he was lookin’ for – scratch marks on your arm from where Barbara had grabbed you and tried to shred you up with her long acrylics. She hadn’t broken the skin or anything, but the lines were puffy and red, and he sighed.

You cupped his cheek, a silent affirmation that you didn’t care, that she wouldn’t scare you off that easily.

“What are we gonna do about her?” You asked, and that familiar frown came back as he got all aggravated.

It was kind of a funny sight, him standing there naked, hair angry and face angry as he rummaged in the medicine cabinet, looking for a cigarette. You helped him light it, his hands a little shaky from the lack of nicotine in his system.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck she was thinking, coming here. She wants me back? Yeah fucking right, she needs something from me and is going to be a real bitch about getting whatever it is. I just don’t know what that could fuckin’ be, especially since I don’t got none of her shit in the apartment.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“How’d she even find you?” You asked, hopping down from the counter.

“Right?” He asked, shaking his head and smacking your ass lightly as you headed back into the bedroom, plopped yourself down onto the mattress. The clock read eight in the morning, slept in late once again. “It’s not like I told her my address or nothin’. But she’s been calling everyone I know tryin’ to get a god damned hold of me and it’s pissin’ me off.”

“Yeah she called here too.” You said, realizing that the woman who you had thought was the commissioner’s secretary, hadn’t been no secretary after all.

“She did?” Pale’s eyebrows shot up, and he groaned, scrubbed a hand over his face as he crawled back into bed next to you. “She called the diner, Fish thought…”

“What, did he think you were cheatin’ on me?” You grinned, so fond of that old man, of your friend. He was always looking out for you, Fish was.

“Yeah.” Pale said with a big huff and puff, puffing on his cigarette before grabbing your jaw in his hot hot hot hand, palm sweaty against your chin, “You know I’d never do that, right?”

“I know.” You want to nod but he’s holding you in place, crowding into your space, licking into your mouth. “I know. I meant what I said yesterday.”

“Which part?” He asked, voice soft.

It was a wonder, sometimes, how he could be so vulnerable. And then other times, it only made perfect sense.

“All of it.” You replied, kissing and licking right back into his, not minding the taste of Barclays one bit. You hummed against his lips for a long while, kissed and kissed, let yourself get wrapped up in the all-consuming feeling of Pale, before pulling away slightly and asking, “Do you send her money?”

“’Course I do.” Pale said, “She’s got the kids and everything, I can’t let them fall through the cracks.”

“How much do you send her?” You wondered, because you thought, had an inkling, that this is what it was all about.

He had gotten a lot more money recently, from his commission work. He had composed some scores for some big blockbuster movies, and was now in a deal with the Philharmonic, and you knew, you just knew, that she was here to take advantage of that – of him.

“It depends. Like two grand a month, but more for the holidays.” He scratched the back of his neck, and you froze right there in his arms.

“Holy shit.” You whispered, feeling your entire stomach sink. “Pale that’s a lot of money.”

You unwrapped yourself from his arms and sat up in bed, suddenly feeling the huge gap that there was between you and him.

“Yeah well, she got used to a certain lifestyle when we were married, me workin’ my fuckin’ ass off. And I didn’t want her accusing me of desertin’ her with nothin’, so I figured it’d just be easier to send her whatever she needs.” Pale shrugged, like it was nothing, like throwing away two grand was no big deal.

“How much does that leave you with?” You asked. You had never really asked about his finances, because you had figured it was never really any of your business.

You knew he had to be well off, because of the way he dressed and this penthouse and his car, but you had never figured it was this much.

“A little over six a month.” He said real quiet, catching on to why you were beginning to grow quiet.

“Christ.” You said, looking down at your fingernails, picking out something that wasn’t there from underneath them, just because the sudden realization of just how well off he was hit you deep in your chest, “That’s as much as I make in a year.”

Pale stubbed out the cigarette and sat up with you, chased you with his lips. You had never been embarrassed before, about anything. But for some reason, now, now it did.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” Pale said, shuffling to sit cross-legged in front of you, taking your hands in his and holdin’ em real tight as he tried to get you to look at him, “Now do you get why I want to give you nice things? Buy you nice shit?”

“I just…” You sighed, “I ain’t used to any of it, you know? Any of this. I’m comfortable with what I got, what I work for and earn. It’s more than enough for me. I can’t imagine having that kinda money, not in a million years.” You said, because it was true.

“Anything I got is yours now, you gotta know that.” Pale said, said like it was obvious, like it was the understatement of the century, “Any of my shit, my money, anything. It’s yours. I’ve been doing some thinking, and when I kick the bucket I want it all to go to you.”

“Pale I don’t like you talkin’ like that.” You shook your head, not wanting him to spiral, not wanting him to get it in his head that he’s dying any time soon.

“No no, I’m serious. I’m bein’ practical. I’m gonna get it in writing and give it all to you. God willin’, you won’t need it, because I’ll be here to give it to you. But, heaven fuckin’ forbid, if I, I dunno get shot or hit by a truck or somethin’, no one’s gonna fight you for it, it’ll all just be yours.” He said, put his hand on his heart like he was swearin’ to something he didn’t believe in, just for you.

“What about your kids?” You asked, looking at him, really looking at him.

“They got trusts set up, they’ll be fine.” He waved them off, and you bit your lip, casted you gaze out the window, to wherever Barbara was staying, spending the night, spending the day.

You wondered if she had gone right back to the airport, or if she was up running her credit card somewhere in some swanky hotel in Manhattan. You figured it was probably the latter, figured you weren’t done with her yet, not yet.

“What about your wife?” You asked, but Pale only kissed you.

“Who?” He asked, playfully, trying to get some humor back behind your eyes.

“Pale.” You said, trying your best and failing to be serious.

He cast his gaze out the window too, and then looked back at you, really looked back at you, through you, into you in that way he sometimes did when he was high off his ass and too honest.

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m lookin’ at her.” He said, and you sucked in a breath. “Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t ever gettin’ married again, no fuckin’ way. And I ain’t really about having any more kids. I did the whole American nuclear fuckin’ family white picket fence green lawn bullshit, and well. You saw how it all turned out. But you, us, this? This is more than enough for me. You wearin’ my chain and suckin’ my dick and holdin’ me and laughin’ at my jokes – that’s more than I ever got when I was married, you’re more my wife than she ever was.”

You used to think you’d be used to it, these passionate declarations of his, but you never are. You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, and you wondered, wondered how long he had kept that speech locked inside his chest.

Outside the snow falls, but in the snowglobe, you’re safe and warm, warmed from the inside out.

You kiss him, because you can’t resist, can’t prevent it from happening, not that you want to. You kiss him because you’re afraid if you don’t, you’ll cry.

Maybe you cry a little anyway, but who’s there to judge?

He curls his hand against the nape of your neck and breathes into your mouth and you breathe back in the way that you know makes him dizzy dizzy dizzy, and your eyes are shut but still, somehow, you can see him, can see his soft brown eyes and the glint of gold around his neck, the same gold that you wear, that you’ll always wear.

When you pull apart, you’re grinning, because the words have settled deep into your bones and you feel like you’ve accidentally done a bump or two.

“I ain’t gonna force you to do anything you don’t wanna do.” You said softly, whispered against his lips, smiling smiling smiling, “But…you sure you don’t want no more kids?”

Pale huffs out a laugh against your mouth, makes a face, one you can’t really read. But it’s playful, and it’s considerate, in Pale’s own way.

“Maybe one day.” He settles on with a grumble, rolling his eyes when you laugh, but then he’s pinching your nose, your cheek, your ear, smacking a kiss to your lips as he says, “But not today.”

“Good enough for me.” You beam, moment interrupted by the loud grumbling of his stomach, which only makes you smile wider when you asked, “Breakfast?”

And when you looked at him, and he looked back, you knew that you’d be able to get through all this together. You’d figure it out, figured out what Barbara wanted, and then she’d go away, and everything would go back to normal.

But until then, until you had a plan, there really was only one thing to deal with, and Pale knew it just as well as you, and he nodded when he agreed,

“Breakfast.”

---------------

Tagging some Pale lovin’ pals! As always, if you’d like to be put on the taglist or taken off of it, just let me know :)

@fullofbees @spinebarrel @dreamboatdriver @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @adamsnackdriver @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler @kyloxfem @fallin-for-youreyes @kylo-renne @attorneyl @jedihbic @bens-rose @callmehopeless @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @hippieface @tinyplanet-explorers @satansstrawberry @riseofkylo @whiskey-bumblebee @helloimindelaware

#reader insert #pale x reader #pale burn this #burn this broadway #my writing #blue moon verse #blue moon sequel

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the-desolated-quill · 4 years

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Sonic Vs Harley: Send In The Hedgehogs - Quill’s Scribbles

Unless you’ve been meditating in the desert for the past couple of weeks, you’ll know that there’s a bloody epidemic going on in the world right now. The coronavirus outbreak has dramatically changed our very way of life for the foreseeable future, and us plebs have been having to get used to all these alien concepts such as social distancing, self isolation, vaccines being good and Gal Gadot murdering John Lennon with a tuneless rendition of ‘Imagine.’ These are scary and uncertain times we live in, and this goes double for the movie industry as productions are halted and/or delayed, and cinemas around the globe are shutting shop. This means that streaming services, initially dismissed by pompous filmmakers like Steven Spielberg as being lesser than cinema, has now become Hollywood’s saving grace. Oh the irony!

But I’m not here to talk about that. Today I’m here to talk about how a blue CGI hedgehog seems to be more profitable than Margot Robbie.

Jokes aside, this is actually a fascinating topic of discussion in my opinion. Both Sonic The Hedgehog and Birds Of Prey (I categorically refuse to type the whole title because I’ve got better shit to be doing other than trying to remember how the fuck you spell ‘fantabulous’) were released within a week of each other just as the coronavirus outbreak was gathering steam, and yet the box office earnings of both films are poles apart. Sonic has now become the highest grossing video game movie of all time and is, at the time I’m typing this, the second highest grossing film of the year, beating even Disney Pixar’s new film Onward if you can believe it, whereas Birds Of Prey... well... it’s not exactly flopped as such. The film’s low budget protected it from that, but it’s hardly what you’d call a success, making just shy of the $200 million it would need to break even. How did this happen? Especially when you consider that public opinion of both films a year ago would have you believe that the opposite would have happened. Everyone was massively excited for Birds Of Prey, especially after the string of successes DC have had with Aquaman, Shazam and most recently Joker, whereas Sonic...

...yeah, lets not talk about that.

Now before we start, let me just make absolutely clear that this is just my opinion. Mu subjective opinion. Normally I’d expect my readers to be smart enough to know this, but I’m talking about a DC movie here and I know from personal experience how ‘passionate’ a certain tin foil hat wearing portion of that fanbase can be sometimes. You may recall back in 2016 I received rape and death threats when I had the gall to say that I didn’t enjoy watching Suicide Squad. You know? That beloved classic that nobody fucking remembers or talks about anymore? Also there was that time when Harley Quinn fans started spreading fake rumours that the Sonic movie was homophobic in the hopes of salvaging Birds Of Prey’s box office earnings. And yes, I know it’s not all DCEU fans that are like this, etc. etc., but considering that it only ever seems to be DC fans that pull shit like this, you’ll forgive me if I’m not exactly in a very generous mood right now. Basically, if you’ve seen Birds Of Prey and liked it, that’s great. More power to you. I’m not even suggesting that Birds Of Prey is a bad movie. I’m just exploring the reasons why I think the film may have underperformed and why, possibly, Sonic The Hedgehog overtook them despite outside circumstances. This is not fact. This is just my opinion. It’s my opinion. An opinion. A subjective opinion. It’s my opinion. Okay? Okay.

Also I should point out that out of the two films, I’ve only seen Sonic, not Birds Of Prey. Believe it or not, this will be relevant later on. Again, this is not about the quality of either film. This is merely my subjective observations regarding their respective marketing and box office performance.

So why, according to the fans and the media, did Birds Of Prey underperform at the box office? There are three popular reasons for this. The first is obviously the coronavirus. Less people willing to leave the house and buy a ticket, therefore less box office earnings. Makes sense, but I don’t think that’s the whole story. Lets not forget, Sonic The Hedgehog came out a week after Birds Of Prey and practically steamrolled over the competition despite coronavirus fears. So I’m not entirely convinced of this. The second reason is that Birds Of Prey only has niche appeal because it’s based on a lesser known comic book property. Again, makes sense, but so was Guardians Of The Galaxy and Deadpool, and they were both hugely successful. Obviously I’m not saying Birds Of Prey needed to be as big as those movies. Even if it just made the same amount of money as Shazam did, it would have been successful, but it didn’t. The third reason is good old fashioned sexism, and yes, I agree that may have been a contributing factor, but I think it’s naive to place all the blame on the anti-SJWs who feel threatened by a gang of women kicking butt. Look at the 2016 reboot of Ghostbusters for example. That film received a tirade of misogynistic comments from butthurt fanboys, but it still made roughly the same amount of money at the box office as the original Ghostbusters did. The reason it flopped wasn’t because of the fanboys, but because of Sony spending a stupid amount of money on the thing in the hopes of jumpstarting a shared universe. If Ghostbusters 2016 had the same budget as Birds Of Prey, Sony would be laughing their way to the bank right now.

No I think there’s a little bit more going on here. Lets bring Sonic into the discussion and explore it, shall we?

The most blatantly obvious reason for Sonic’s success and Birds Of Prey’s relative failure is the age rating. Sonic is a PG, family friendly film with a cuddly animal as its main character. The film even stars Jim Carrey being his usual goofy self. Kids love this shit and parents will no doubt be prepared to risk a zombie apocalypse to let their kids see it. Birds Of Prey, on the other hand, is a hard R. Strong bloody violence, sexual references, everyone says ‘fuck’ a lot. No kids allowed. Of course that hasn’t stopped films like Deadpool or Joker being such giant hits, but they didn’t have to contend with a global pandemic. Plus, according to what I’ve heard from certain critics, apparently Birds Of Prey’s R rating doesn’t seem wholly justified. That if you were to cut back on the swearing and the gore, it would make no difference to the film. Now you see this is something I’ve been afraid would happen ever since Deadpool’s surprise success back in 2016. That studios and filmmakers would take the wrong lessons from it and make their films R rated just for the sake of making them R rated. We see this with movie studios all the time. One studio finds success and suddenly everyone tries to copy it without considering why it was successful in the first place. The reason Deadpool as well as other R rated films like Logan and Joker worked is because the films justified their R ratings. You couldn’t have told the same story without that R rating. An R rated Harley Quinn doesn’t seem necessary, especially when you consider that there have been Harley Quinn adaptations before that did just as well without being strictly for adults. Hell, the original Harley Quinn story from the Batman animated series was PG rated. So the inclusion of a R rating feels less like a genuine artistic choice and more like trend chasing. And now that Joker has become the most profitable comic book movie ever made, I fear this is only going to get worse in the future.

Another factor that needs to be considered is audiences’ trust and expectation. Sonic The Hedgehog’s journey to the big screen has in some ways become the classic redemption story. After the initial reveal of Sonic the Manhog, fans were understandably pissed off that a beloved video game icon was given such a grotesque re-imagining for the sake of ‘realism’ (snort). As a result of the backlash, the director Jeff Fowler announced they would revise the design and the film was postponed for three months in order to fix it. The result was a Sonic design much closer to the games and this generated a lot of goodwill from the fans. Subsequent trailers were much better received and there was a lot more positive buzz around the movie. Birds Of Prey on the other hand demonstrated the inverse of this. Everyone was hugely excited, but as we got closer and closer to the date of release, audience anticipation began to wane. The trailers received little fanfare. In fact a lot of people were largely unimpressed by it. Why?

Well first we should address the elephant in the room. The fact of the matter is Sonic has a bigger and much more passionate fanbase than Harley does. That’s not to say Harley isn’t a popular character. She is. But I think Warner Bros and DC seriously overestimated how much people wanted to see Harley Quinn get her own movie. She may have been the best thing about Suicide Squad, but considering what a total trainwreck Suicide Squad was, that’s hardly saying much, is it? I mean the villain Sandman was the best thing about Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 3. That doesn’t mean I want a whole movie based on him. It just means out of all the things I hated about Spider-Man 3, Sandman was the thing I hated least.

And that’s another thing. The fact that Birds Of Prey didn’t try to distance themselves from Suicide Squad I don’t think did them any favours. While Suicide Squad was a commercial success at the time, people haven’t exactly been kind to the film in subsequent years. I mean feel free to read my review of Suicide Squad for an exhaustive list of reasons why the film was less than enjoyable to sit through. One dimensional characters, poor editing, ugly colour palette, casual sexism, David Ayer trying desperately to look cool and edgy, I could go on. So when the first trailers for Birds Of Prey came out and we saw the neon colour scheme and Hot Topic wardrobes make a comeback, I can’t have been the only one who was slightly put off.

Which leads me to the biggest issue of all and that’s the stonking unoriginality of the whole thing. For all their boasting about how feminist and progressive they are, what is it about Birds Of Prey that makes it stand out from other comic book films? Granted Sonic wasn’t wholly original either, but at least they had the novelty of a blue CGI hedgehog to piggyback off of. Birds Of Prey really doesn’t have anything if you think about it. Here’s the impression I got from the trailers. It has the same aesthetics as Suicide Squad, so already I’m getting PTS style flashbacks, and its story doesn’t seem all that intriguing or unique. Think about it. A violent anti-hero has to protect a delinquent child from some sadistic big baddie. How many times have we seen that done in these films? Terminator 2, Deadpool 2, Logan, even Ghost Rider has told this story before. The fact that the characters in question happen to be women doesn’t change a damn thing. They even have Harley Quinn breaking the fourth wall. Like... guys, come on! Surely we can do something more original than this! It feels like the only thing Birds Of Prey has going for it is that its main protagonists are all women. But after the likes of Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel, that’s no longer a real selling point anymore. You need something else to entice people. Something that Birds Of Prey sorely lacks.

Now I’m sure any Birds Of Prey fans reading this must be getting pissed off at me, so I’d just like to remind everyone yet again that I’m not necessarily saying Birds Of Prey is a bad film. I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it. And that’s kind of my point. A week or so ago, my friend and I knew this was probably going to be our last opportunity to go to the cinema for quite some time, so we knew we had to make our choice of film count. We had a choice between Sonic The Hedgehog and Birds Of Prey, and we ended up going to see Sonic. We don’t regret it. We had a good time watching Sonic. It was a fun movie, well made and surprisingly moving at points. (interesting to note, Sonic also has the main protagonist protecting a child plot, but unlike the films I mentioned, Sonic’s story is told from the perspective of the kid. It’s a little thing, but it’s enough to make the whole thing feel fresh and unique because it’s something not even the games tend to acknowledge. Sonic is a kid and the film plays around with that, which adds to its overall charm). Maybe Birds Of Prey is a better movie than Sonic. I don’t know. But that’s not what this is about. When picking which film we would watch, it was the factors I mentioned before that we considered and I suspect what many other people took into consideration too. Basically we looked at these two films and thought to ourselves which one would we be prepared to go outside and risk our health for in order to see it in a cinema. In the end, Sonic won because, out of the two films, it looked more exciting and more unique than Birds Of Prey, and ultimately we trusted that this film could deliver what it promised. Is that fair? Probably not, but sadly that’s often how these things play out.

Birds Of Prey may have had a good critical reception, but it ultimately shot itself in the foot thanks to some of its creative and marketing decisions. And if studios take anything away from all this, it should be that relying solely on the gender of the main characters as a means to sell something just doesn’t cut it anymore.

#sonic the hedgehog #birds of prey #birds of prey (and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn)#quill's scribbles

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prettylittlebrownskingyal · 5 years

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hey sunshine! im sure you've got a ton of requests and truly no pressure at all take your time if you want to do this at all, BUT, could you write about the reader who's either part of the gotham pd or something, like shes' part of the law, and she keeps running into the play-by-his-own-rules-gun-slinging red hood and they don't like each other at all.... or so they says ;)

Note: I really tried for this one but somehow I couldn’t produce anything cohesive. So here are five scenes that I couldn’t weave together but really wanted to.

“Listen here detective— and this is an order— you will not get in his way. Do you understand me?”

Jim Gordon pushed his glasses back up the hooked slope of his nose and fixed you with a no-nonsense glare.

The cold rooftop was chilled under the frigid night wind of Gotham yet you’re whole body burned with obdurate anger. An insane and infantile like voice at the back of your mind urged you to stomp and pout for not getting your way.

You would comply to it if it weren’t for the fact that you’d already been complacent several times during the week and Gordon had elected to ignore each instance. Now though, he had no choice but to put his foot down and somehow that made you want to bend the rules even more.

“But what about—”

“Batman trusts him and I trust Batman.”

This statement was a question of loyalty, neatly packaged in the Commissioner’s stern drawl. He trusted the caped crusader and his bat-lings with the safety of the city, to doubt that trust was almost as bad as outrightly questioning his authority.

That was something you never, ever wished to do. But the ‘him’ in question— the ‘him’ that had been parading around the city in a hood the colour of blood, the ‘him’ that crawled under your skin and irritated every atom in your body— that ‘him’ almost made you beg to differ.

“I don’t trust him.”

Gordon sighed. He shook his head and softened his gaze as he met your eyes. “He hasn’t messed up yet. Why not give him a chance?”

“I—”

“Oh,” came a heavy, almost robotic voice from behind you. “Are you guys talking about me?”

The Red Hood was propped casually against the side of the bat-signal, helmeted head cocked to the side and gloved fingers sliding over the safety of one of his guns.

“Detective, we’ll finish this discussion later. Go home.”

Your gall deflated, with a pursed lip and defiant eye roll you stalked by the negligent idiot that had— in the space of seven days— become the biggest thorn in your side.

In the absence of Batman, Nightwing and Robin, the city’s safety fell under the jurisdiction of the Red Hood and his guns. While he was adamant that he’d turned a new leaf, something about him made your skin prickle with the likelihood of peril.

Every passing day, the hooded vigilante had staked claim on every crime scene you were assigned to. He was quick and defiant and he had every no-good low life already tied down and ready for arrest by the time you showed up. No matter how fast you sped towards the scene, he was always there first. It was irritating beyond measure and no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake the image of him out of your head.

Though you’d never admit it, a needling little part of you was jealous. It was a putrid, green stain that ran over your skin like spilt ink and soured your demeanour towards him.

****

“Nice garters,” you snipped. Here he was again, wiping a blood stain off his knuckles with a dirty scrap of fabric, two hogtied thugs sitting unconscious behind him.

“Always knew you had a thing for my thighs, doll.”

“Call me that again and I’ll castrate you.”

He dropped his voice an octave, “Kinky, I like it.”

“I hate you.”

“Really? We haven’t even dated yet.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and counted to ten. When you cracked an eye open and found the urge to punch him still lingering in your stomach, you took a deep breath a counted to twenty.

“Just tell me what you found and then get out of my sight.”

“Maroni’s boys, drugs and money” he listed each thing off on long fingers. “Their boss clearly has plans for something because this is the third time this week we’ve busted them.”

“You think these are just miniature- trojan horses?”

“Sure, we can call it that.” You could hear the smile in the voice as he answered. “I’ll find out what they're up to and take care of it.”

“No. Absolutely not,” you protested.

“Look rookie, I get it. You want to serve justice and all that, but you’ve only been on this force for— what? a year— you can’t just waltz in here and expect to take down the mob.”

“Watch me.”

“No, absolutely not,” he parroted. Through the modulator he used, it sounded more like a warning. “Now, unless you want to be violently murdered. Stay out of this. I promise you that I’ll get the job done.”

****

The call on a hostage situation came near the break of dawn, and of course with your luck, the only available person to save the helpless citizens is the last asshole you wanted to lay eyes on.

“I know what I’m doing,” he said, shrugging off the careful instructions you’d been offering to him.

“And I’m not disputing that. I’m simply making a suggestion.”

He spat a laugh snidely. “Do you know who I am?”

You’ve got your hands on your hips, head cocked to the side and mouth pulled over bared teeth; you’re ready to chew him up and spit him out for being difficult.

“Look here bird boy.” You stepped forward again, and he took a step back, waist hitting concrete. “I don’t care who you are, but if you’re not careful tonight, a lot of people could die. Gordon— for some reason— trusts you, and I trust him. So don’t screw up.”

With that, you whipped around and left him standing alone on the slick pavement.

“Thanks for the tip rookie!”

If you flipped him the bird and ran away, no one needed to know.

*****

Your campaign into Maroni and his agenda landed you into a few sticky situations. You wiggled your way out of them just fine, taking down as many of his men as you could each time. But just like the Hood had said, each attempt to solve the case placed a big target on your back and made it more and more dangerous for you to do your job. You could almost hear his dumb robot voice chiming “I told you so,” as you stared death in the face.

You frowned as he untied the ropes binding your wrists together, anxiously awaiting his unbearable ribbing.

“What the hell did I say, rookie?” is what you got instead. The genuine concern in his tone threw you off guard.

“I don’t recall. The auto-tune thingy really makes it hard for me to take you seriously.”

He slid to the side to give you room to stand, heavy boots thudding against the rickety floors as he stepped over the piles of passed out bodies around him.

“You could have died.”

“Yeah but I didn’t”

He heaved a breathy sigh that made a grating sound through the hood. “You’re never going to listen to me are you?”

*****

“Normal people don’t take bullets for other people!” You swung a balled fist at his face, rage a boiling, furious pit in your stomach that threatened to overflow as your hand met one of his gloved ones.

“Normal people are usually thankful when they're saved from being shot,” he countered. “And are you insane? You’ll break your wrist.”

“What do you know about normal, masked man?” you spat. “Lose the hood and take a punch like a normal man.”

“Fine.”

He clicked a button and the front of the helmet opened with a hiss to reveal a picture of tawny skin, a mess of dark hair and a pink mouth pulled into a smirk. A domino mask shielded his eyes, but there was no doubt in your mind that if you pulled it away, you’d find amusement there at the sharp catch in your breath.

“Well,” you started, trying to cover up the sound of your own pounding heart. “You’re uglier than I’d thought you’d be.”

The smirk morphed into a smile the displayed pearly white bunny teeth and a dimple. Suddenly your irritation with the Red Hood grew as the threat of infatuation dangled right there on his stupid face.

“Is that the reason for the uptick in your pulse, rookie?”

With the hand he had wrapped around your wrist, he gives a firm squeeze down onto your veins with his forefingers. There, the rapid pump of blood under your skin was a dead give away.

“You really piss me off, you know.”

“I know.” He laughed and with the slight shake of his head, a little white curl of hair feel down across his forehead and sparked the urge to play with his hair beneath your fingers. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Shut up.”

Being this close to him felt like playing with fire. But the more you inhaled his cologne, the more you focused on the hand on your skin or the tiny scar on his lip-- the more you were willing to burn.

Slowly, surely deliberately, he uttered the words; “Make. Me.”

You kissed him before he could kiss you, straining as you went up on your toes and wrapped your arms around his neck. As he slid the hand on your wrist up to your arm and then to your neck to pull you closer, you threaded your fingers through that endearing little curl of white hair and tugged.

“I win.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #lilbrowngyal writes #anonymous #ar's blurbs

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gothamfucker · 5 years

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I’m fucking glad to see oswald hauling jims ass out to the docks in that trailer. I know he’s not gonna shoot him forreal but I wish he would because jim gordon is the fucking worst like oswald dedicated Years to him and received nothing in return! not a gotdam thing! no thanks! no respect! he went to arkham for jim, he did every stupid favor he asked for, he risked his neck for jim time and time again, he fought for the city alongside him and sustained a life altering injury in the process and jim has the absolute Gall, the unmitigated Nerve, the fucking Balls to throw him in blackgate? jim really loves that Selective Justice because it seems like oswald is only guilty when jim doesn’t need his money or resources

#jim gordon is a doo doo bitch!#oswalds taste in men is TRASH tho #gotham #oswald cobblepot #jim gordon

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 5 years

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Episodyssey: The Raiders Minimization

The Big Bang Theory is a show that is incredibly divisive on the internet, and frankly it’s for all the wrong reasons. So many have come at this show and called it “nerd blackface” or that it is a shallow and unrealistic portrayal of how nerds are… No. For starters, it’s not exactly claiming to be an accurate portrayal of nerds. Second, I have met people just like the doofuses in this show, who talk and act like that when it comes to pop culture. And third… “nerd blackface?” Are you fucking kidding me?

[Because making pop culture references is TOTALLY comparable to this!]

No, none of the nerd related stuff is why The Big Bang Theory is bad… it’s just how absolutely loathsome and toxic it portrays the relationships of the characters that makes it bad. There’s dysfunctional relationships, and then there’s shit like I witnessed in this episode, season 7’s “The Raiders Minimization.”

This episode is actually doubly unpleasant, because not only does it feature some of the worst relationship writing I’ve ever seen, it gives even the remotest amount of credence and attention to one of the stupidest film theories ever: the idea that Indiana Jones is ultimately irrelevant to the plot of Raiders of the Lost Ark. This little issue takes up half the episode, as after watching the film with Sheldon, Amy explains this theory to Sheldon and ‘ruins’ the movie for him. Sheldon’s entire scheme in this episode is basically to find something Amy loves and ruin it for her the way she ‘ruined’ Indiana Jones for him.

Now, for the record, Sheldon is probably the best part of the show usually. All jokes aside, Sheldon is at least obnoxious, insufferable, and egomaniacal on purpose as opposed to the other characters, who seem to come off this way accidentally half the time. I think a lot of this has to do with Jim Parsons being head and shoulders above the other cast members in terms of talent.

[Any man who can be on a show this dumb and still get to hang with the Muppets is a legend.]

The thing is, Sheldon works best when we’re laughing at him and his insensitiveness. Sheldon is the Eric Cartman of the show, the friend no one likes, the one we like to see fail. But here, they’re having Sheldon do his usual selfish bullshit, but it’s hard not to sympathize with him in this case. Like I just have to ask: what significant other outright states to their loved one some supposed gaping flaw in a movie they are enthusiastic about and enjoy? Who does that? And yes, she does apologize in the end, but it doesn’t change the fact the episode ends with all the guys moping over this plothole.

I’m just gonna say the whole “Indy is irrelevant theory” is incredibly dumb. Like, yes, The outcome is the same with or without him there. So? Was he supposed to know this? And even if he wasn’t there, and the Nazis all melted without his intervention, what exactly would have stopped Hitler from scooping it up before the Americans got it? The theory has massive holes in it, and then there’s the fact that you’re just nitpicking a pulpy adventure movie about a ruggedly handsome adventurer punching Nazis. It ain’t that deep, fam.

[Just sit back and enjoy Harrison Ford.]

But that’s not what really bugged me with this episode. Sure, it bugged me, and sure, it was annoying… but the Leonard and Penny stuff was a lot worse. You see, the entire crux of this part of the plot is that Leonard’s mother wrote a book about him called The Disappointing Child, which seems to do nothing but detail deeply personal and traumatizing events from his childhood, including his masturbation habits and a breast feeding crisis he went through. This is bad enough, and throughout the episode we see how bad this shit affected Leonard as he keeps detailing horrible stories to Penny. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is the ending.

Luring Leonard in with the promise of sex, she waits until he has his pants halfway off and then reveals she was on a video call with his mother, accuses him of making stuff up to emotionally manipulate her, and then denies him sex and forces him to converse with his mother. This whole thing… like it really speaks for itself. This is so absolutely nauseating and fucked up. How is it emotionally manipulating to tell your significant other about abuse you suffered as a child? Abuse which is detailed in a book written by the abuser? Like why is she going behind his back and talking to his mother? Why any of this? This is just so horrifyingly uncomfortable and disturbing that it amazes me they had the gall to play a laugh track over this.

So really, this show isn’t bad because of nerds being nerds or pop culture jokes or whatever the fuck. No, this show is bad because it has abusive, toxic relationships where everyone acts like the worst human beng possible and we’re all expected to sit back and laugh at all of this disgusting, uncomfortable garbage. Fuck that.

[This is how the episode should have ended, but that would require the writers to not actively despise their characters and their happiness.]

#Episodyssey #The Big Bang Theory #TBBT #Jim Parsons #Indiana Jones #TV review

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athenril-of-kirkwall · 5 years

Note

For DWC, how about “You can’t just leave like this.” for your m!Adaar/Cassandra?

I think that’s meant to be an angst prompt but I’m going to exercise my humour-writing muscles instead, by your leave :P

m!Adaar/Cassandra, “You Can’t Just Leave Me Like This” (AO3)

“I’m going to lodge a complaint to the next Divine,” Qakarsaid.

Cassandra raised her eyebrow. “By all means. I’ll consider it with all the attention it is due.”

“I’m withdrawing my endorsement,” he grumbled.

“You are entirely free to catch up with Jim and retract yourown missive the moment Healer Adan clears you to leave your bed, assuming you’re fit to ride a horse,” the Seeker commented as she turned away from the Inquisitor, picking up her copy of The Tale of the Champion: Legacy of Blood and pretending to read it disinterestedly.

“Cassandra, get me out of this thing!”, Qakar bellowed, shaking with all of his considerable might against his sickbed, and especially the massive cast which was wrapped around his leg and tied to the ceiling.

“You, the Herald of Andraste, Leader of the Inquisition,” Cassandra scolded Qakar, slapping him on his shoulder with her book, “will stop acting like a child!”

Wincing in pain, albeit nothing compared to the agony which his leg had undergone recently, he muttered, “Fine. But I’ve been in thisblighted thing for half a week already, Cassandra, and all I’ve been able to see is these four walls and the light coming into that window. I’m going stir crazy in here, Cass.”

“Well,” Cassandra huffed, “let that be a lesson to you, and let that lesson sink in the next time you chase after a high dragon all by yourself.”

“What was I supposed to do, let it terrorise the Storm Coast? I’ve been informed by Josephine that the news has already gotten as far as Nevarra. I thought you’d be happy!”

Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, are you saying you chased after aVinsomer on my account?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. That’s not…well…it was one of the reasons, I suppose.”

“Am I supposed to be charmed?”, she asked sceptically.

Qakar shrugged his shoulders as much as he could in his position. “It would be appreciated if you were at least half as enthusiastic as Bull was once we brought it down.”

“You qunari…I beg your pardon…Vashoth and your obsessions. Why did you think you needed to scale the sharp rocks on that island to get up close to it, especially since your specialty is long-range attacks?”

“Hold up, you come from a family of dragonslayers. I thoughtyou might empathise.”

“Naturally,” Cassandra said, nonplussed. “Countless Pentaghasts throwing themselves needlessly at dragon nests and gettingthemselves eaten, or worse. Generations of foolishness only interrupted by growing bellies and sloth. How utterly noble.”

“I suppose I can rule out jealousy then.”

“Absolutely,” Cassandra said.

Pouting a little, he pressed on, “Agitated concern?”

Inhaling sharply, she put the book down on the side-table next to Qakar’s finished lunch none too gently. “Why must you treat everything with such flagrant flippancy, Inquisitor?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“That you are, and with a broken leg from falling off Dragon Island and unable to conduct any of the Inquisition’s business for a wholeweek. Don’t you care about your life at all? Why can’t you ever take anything about it seriously?”

Locking his eyes with Cassandra, Qakar said, “I absolutelydo, Cassandra. I’ve treasured every day since you decided not to execute me at Haven, and that’s why I’m just so frustratedat being tied to this damned thing. I made a mistake, and I’m sorry.”

Cassandra exhaled, turning back to him a little lessagitated. “Well, at least you seem like you’re learning your lesson. If it’swhat it takes to get you not to breakyour leg fighting a dragon, I shall accompany you the next time you go outhunting them.”

“Why, are you not content playing nursemaid here?”

“And just when I thought you were making progress. Verywell, if you wish to pout and bemoan the injustice of your circumstances, Ishall leave you to it,” Cassandra said, packing her book away and standing upto leave.

“Wait-Cassandra-Please, come on, you can’t leave me herelike this!” he begged.

“I believe I can, and I will,” she said, reaching for thedoor.

“All right, all right, you’re right. I’ll act like anadult,” he conceded. “Please, just stay here a while. You’re the first personI’ve had a chance to talk to besides Adan and our advisors, and all I’ve doneis complain at you. I’m sorry.”

“Very well,” Cassandra said, turning away from the door. “Isuppose I could stay for a while. It is not as though I have much to do for therest of the day. What would you like to do?”

Qakar sighed. “Not much, as you can tell. Is that one ofVarric’s books?”

“Indeed it is. I had to withdraw a whole twelve sovereignsand nine silvers from the Seekers’ funds, as they were, just to track down thisvolume. And just to find out that he knew about Corypheus all along! It isutterly galling.”

“You’ll forgive him one day.”

“One day, perhaps,” she said. “While I am here, shall I readsome of it to you? Varric always says these things sound better when spoken outloud.”

Qakar raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s acting nursemaid?”

“Do you want me to read it or not?”

He meekly conceded, waving at her to start. She sat down,opening the novel to where she’d left off, tracing the rows with her fingertipsto find the exact spot.

“And so I told Gerav, ‘Thisis Hawke, the one whose blood you want to drink or bathe in or whatever. But ifyou’re after eternal youth, I’ve gotta tell you, Hawke’s no virgin’…”

She let loose a disgusted sigh. “This is why I prefer hisother work. At least he’s deprived of the ability to make himself the smartestman in the room at every opportunity.”

“Don’t stop on his account. At least this way you’re thesmartest woman in the room.”

Cassandra gently slapped his shoulder with the back of herfingers. “You charmer.”

“Charms, Lady Seeker, come second to seeing the obvioustruth, even if it is…difficult sometimes.”

“Shall I give you more chances to try your charms, or shallI continue?” she asked, folding her arms and looking back down on the page.“Ugh, yet another fight scene. I swear he’s paid by the word sometimes. I thinkI’ll skip it, by your leave.”

“I can think of something else we could do while you werehere,” Qakar said.

“Oh?”, Cassandra asked suspiciously.

Gesturing over to himself, he said, “I have to whisper it inyour ear, though.”

Groaning, she leant over, and no sooner had she come closein did he kiss her on the check. As she pulled away, astonished, she noticedthe smirk spreading across his face.

“Oh, behave yourself!”, she shouted, unable to keep mirthfrom rising in her voice.

“I thought you were giving me another chance?”, he askedinnocently.

“So I was,” she said, “but then again, you’re to stay offthat leg.”

“I promise. Just stay a while, will you?”

“For you, my love?” Cassandra asked, saying, “Anything.”

And she leant in and kissed him, leaving the book on thenightstand.

@dadrunkwriting

#m!adaar/cassandra #m!inquisitor/cassandra #m!adaar #qakar adaar #m!inquisitor #cassandra pentaghast #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #ao3 #fanfic #prompt fic #lyrium-lovesong #athenril-of-kirkwall #dadrunkwriting #da drunk writing circle

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juditmiltz · 5 years

Text

Why high-end home auctions in South Florida are the next big thing

41 Arvida Parkway

Imagine a red carpet leading to a waterfront South Florida estate where refreshments are served as deep-pocketed investors mingle, ready to raise their paddles in a heated competition to spend millions of dollars for a mansion.

That is an increasingly frequent scene playing out on local shores. Auctions of luxury homes are growing in popularity, as sellers opt for the certainty of a fixed sale date that comes with putting a home on the block. It also allows them to tap into an auction house’s database chock full of wealthy buyers worldwide, and limits expensive carrying costs on high-priced properties that can otherwise take years to sell.

Amid an overall sluggish sales market, auction companies say business is booming this year, with an increasing number of luxury listings either referred by sellers or by brokers who can use them as a sales tool, earning commissions on the deal.

“If you have the Hope Diamond or Jackie Onassis’ pearls or a rare Duesenberg automobile, you go to auction,” said Jim Gall, founder and president of Miami-based Auction Company of America. “And it’s the same principle for homes or condos.”

Auction company CEOs and real estate agents say the advantages to the seller go well beyond a quick closing. An auction can boost marketing muscle and create competition for a property. The sales are also considered “clean” — free of contingencies and financing — and come with six-figure deposits, which means a likely closing.

“This is the way the wealthy and uberweathy have chosen to buy real estate in the 21st century,” said Marc Hameroff of Engel & Völkers Miami. He is co-listing a $68 million waterfront estate at 41 Arvida Parkway in Coral Gables with Lourdes Alatriste. The home is set for an online auction by Concierge Auctions from March 19 to 22.

The growing popularity of auctions is evidenced in how Concierge’s business has ramped up in Florida. The number of sellers the firm spoke to rose from 102 in 2016 to 292 in 2017 and 522 in 2018, Concierge founder and President Laura Brady said. The company auctioned six properties in Florida in 2018 and is on target to hold 16 auctions statewide this year, which would top its record of 12 auctions in 2009.

“Florida is one of the leading markets for us in the $20 million-plus category,” Brady said.

Naples-based Elite Auctions has also seen its volume of properties grow, up 125 percent from 2017 to 2018 and up more than 150 percent so far this year, said Randy Haddaway, founder and CEO. He is also seeing an increase this year in sellers calling directly, to 75 percent from 65 percent.

“Traditionally, a house north of $10 million will take two to three years to sell,” Hameroff said. “Concierge will spend north of $250,000 in a six-week period and will get eyes on [the Coral Gables property] that would not normally see this, from all around the world.”

The benefits for sellers

A wider audience of potential buyers is just one of the reasons why luxury homeowners are going the auction route. Other reasons? The sheer size of the inventory of luxury properties, and the length of time they can linger on the market. In the fourth quarter of 2018, 183 single-family homes of $5.9 million or more were on the market in Miami Beach and the barrier islands, according to Douglas Elliman. The eight top-tier homes that closed in that period took an average of 349 days to sell — or almost a year. At that pace of sales, it would take 68.6 months to sell all the inventory — or almost six years, according to the Elliman report.

“It’s a buyer’s market, and sellers are going to have to look to other ways to create excitement and interest in their properties,” Gall said.

Once a property has lingered on the market for several months or years, it’s considered stale. “There’s no greater challenge a property faces than the stigma of sitting there too long and not being sold,” said Trayor Lesnock, founder and president of Miami-based Platinum Luxury Auctions. Meanwhile, taxes, insurance, landscaping and other maintenance costs can add up, along with mortgage payments, if there are any.

Huizenga’s 1575 Ponce de Leon

“Frustration is a big motivator — frustration that the traditional brokerage process has not given them any results,” Lesnock said.

And sellers often are eager for their next steps, like buying another property. “These people made money by being in charge, solving problems, and here is a problem they can’t figure out,” added Lesnock. An auction “gives them certainty and lets them move on with their lives.”

Kristina Gustafson used Platinum to auction her Wellington farm in 2017.

“The key is you get more buyers to the table and you get a definitive closing date,” said Gustafson, who was a Realtor at the time with Southfields Real Estate.

“I got what the property was worth on that day, and I was happy with it, and I was done,” said Gustafson, who currently owns three farms and a house in Wellington. “That was the big quotient. I was emotionally done, physically done, and I was ready to go on.”

How the auctions work

In South Florida, auctions are held live onsite at a property with registered bidders in person or either by phone or online. Concierge handles most of its auctions online, which has led to lawsuits alleging that the company used fake bidders to increase the price of homes or to make sellers think there was more interest in their properties than there really was, according to a Wall Street Journal report. Concierge has denied all the allegations.

Brady said online auctions offer privacy, transparency and the convenience of being able to bid from anywhere in the world. “Anyone can log onto the site and see the bidding of all auctions open and see bids and bid numbers,” she said. The bidders are anonymous.

Elite, on the other hand, only takes bids onsite. “Online — we don’t trust it. We don’t like it,” said Haddaway, its founder. “I like to see wealthy people competing against each other and seeing each other in person.”

Auctions can also have disadvantages, including the possibility of getting a lower sale price than the seller was hoping for. And if a buyer emerges who wants to lock in and buy the property before the auction date, the seller may cancel, but may be responsible for marketing costs that could be in the hundreds of thousands of dollars.

“The buyer comes in thinking they’re going to get a deal, and the seller thinks they will finally be able to move the property,” Haddaway said. “Is every seller satisfied with the number? Not everyone.”

In the world of auctions, properties can be sold with a reserve — a minimum bid — or without a reserve, which is referred to as an absolute auction.

Not having a reserve is “critical,” said Tim Elmes of Coldwell Banker Residential Real Estate-Fort Lauderdale Las Olas. With a reserve, “it’s like pissing in the wind. It’s a waste of money,” he said. “There’s no driver for people to come to the auction. If it’s absolute, they will fly in from out of town.”

Elmes recently had the listing and brought the buyer for a waterfront home in Fort Lauderdale Beach that sold for $8.1 million at an auction held by DeCaro Auctions International. There were 21 registered bidders, and Reno, Nevada-based real estate magnate Don Norman had the top bid for the mansion, which had been listed for nearly $13 million.

“I didn’t recommend the auction for this house,” Elmes said. “I think we could have sold it for more if had been priced correctly.” Yet the seller was happy with the outcome, he said.

The entire auction process, from listing to closing, can be completed in less than 90 days. Auction companies generally take about six weeks to market a property before holding the auction, and the buyer generally closes about a month after.

Before an auction is held, buyers are required to put down a bidder registration fee of $100,000 to as much as $250,000. Then the winner must put down more after the auction, to reach 10 percent of the sale price.

Buyers also usually have to pay a buyer’s premium of 10 percent, which covers the commissions. Gall said he started the practice for real estate auctions 35 years ago, borrowing the idea from Sotheby’s and Christie’s, which use it in their fine art auctions.

The commission split varies with the deal, said auction experts. “When a Realtor brings us a deal, we come up with a split advantageous to the listing Realtor because they are under pressure from the seller,” Gall said.

Lamar Fisher, president and CEO of Pompano Beach-based Fisher Auction Company, said 30 percent of his business comes from brokers, versus 70 percent from sellers. He offers added incentives to agents. “We can reward them if a broker brings us a prequalified bidder, and they ultimately win, they get additional points of commission.” The highest bidder

In recent years, auction companies have seen more homes that are listed for $20 million or more, with one recent sale breaking an auction record.

Concierge, along with listing broker Ralph Arias of One Sotheby’s International Realty, handled the sale of “Le Palais Royale,” a 60,000-square-foot waterfront estate in Hillsboro Beach late last year that marked the highest price ever achieved for an auction in the U.S., Brady said. Eleven potential buyers bid for the property — above an average of eight bidders, she said. In the end, records show, Teavana co-founder Andrew Mack paid $42.5 million for the estate, a massive discount from the original $159 million asking price in 2015.

Billy Nash, founder of Nash Luxury Real Estate at the Keyes Company, said he is “a big believer in the process” of auctioning a home. As the listing agent, he suggested that the Fort Lauderdale waterfront mansion of the late H. Wayne Huizenga go up for auction. It hit the market last year, asking $27 million. Concierge has set the auction for March 26, with no minimum bid.

“To get the global attention that trophy properties deserve, having an auction and creating a finite time frame to bring buyers to the table to me adds tremendous value,” Nash said.

But the luxury home auction that really started it all, according to Fisher, took place in 2013 and involved the future president.

It was the onsite auction of the Versace mansion in Miami Beach. The Nakash family ultimately paid $41.5 million for the estate but the backup bidder was Donald Trump, said Fisher, whose company held the auction. “He told me, stop at $37 [million] and he stopped at $41 [million],” Fisher said. Eric Trump was onsite, but Fisher said he dealt directly with Donald Trump.

Fisher is now set to auction embattled developer Robert Matthews’ Palm Beach mansion at 101 Casa Bendita on March 28, by order of a U.S. bankruptcy court. Previously listed for $44 million, it has a $31 million reserve. Federal officials have charged Matthews, the former developer of the Palm House Hotel in Palm Beach, with multiple counts of wire fraud, bank fraud and money laundering over the unfinished development.

Amid the ongoing slow luxury sales market, Fisher expects auctions to keep thriving. He is now in negotiations with several sellers of condos in Sunny Isles Beach and South Beach and is hoping to have those auctions on the books soon.

Fisher sees it as a trend emerging. “The next wave is going to be the luxury condo, penthouse market,” he said.

from The Real Deal Miami https://therealdeal.com/miami/issues_articles/luxury-real-estate-auctions/#new_tab via IFTTT

#The Real Deal Miami

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