just saw asteroid city last night, pls explain the proposed significance of the kiss!!
answering this publicly hope thats ok! cant do a readmore im on mobile *****asteroid city spoilers below beware*****
i dont remember anyones names so this is gonna sound partly unhinged. okay so the edward norton playwright and jason schwartzman actor (not character, in the black and white parts) are lovers right. tbh i thought this was kind of a gag and forgot about it. but later we find out that the playwright died 6 months into the production. i didnt make the connection that THAT’s why the actor-jason has to suddenly leave the stage and freaks out backstage about how he’s not sure he’s Doing it right. hes not talking about acting!! because he himself is literally grieving his lover while he’s playing a character who’s grieving his wife written by his lover so obviously it’s too much!!! actor-jason is trying to find meaning in his death through his writing but there isnt any meaning in death [gerris drinkwater voice] which is what the play is trying to say anyway. he doesnt think he’s performing grief right even in his own life!!! (and tbh it’s the 50s so he wouldnt be able to perform grief publicly anyway!!!!) the play starts with a car accident… anyone would search for some hidden meaning there, some sign…. so when he talks to margot robbie outside it’s not really about finding the CHARACTER’s motivations it’s about the actor himself being able to process the playwright’s death! and adrien brody director was probably also dealing with that too (him and norton seemed to be good buddies) so the whole “sleeping backstage” thing gets a bit sadder maybe? maybe everyone else got this in the theatre and im just stupid lol but crazy making stuff to me!!! the whole story is about sublimated gay grief that cannot be expressed?!?!
the tweet that caught me onto this was here which posits that the playwright’s death was a suicide but i think that’s pretty stupid and unnecessary because the whole thing about the play asteroid city is that death is random and meaningless. im pretty sure that’s what the alien represents— a shocking and absurd event that isnt outright evil or menacing, not something anyone can predict or make sense of, it’s just a thing that happens to you out of nowhere, it doesnt mean anything. he’s a little black figure, he’s death! giving and taking! aagh
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I don’t feel like our love is brand new. There must have been lovers, soulmates, before us, experiencing what we get to have. And it’s giving me comfort to imagine there will be many more like us to come. Our kind of love is the kind of love that makes this rotten world worth living in.
prince simon in madrid
a pilgrimage along the world that @prince-simon created 🥹
Simon’s neighbourhood, Chueca
“It’s actually the Queer Neighbourhood of Madrid, and coincidentally also where I live.” He lowered his voice as if to tell a secret, “It’s actually not a coincidence at all.” (chapter 2)
Casa de Campo (view from the Royal Palace lol oop)
Wilhelm didn’t even recognise himself. He didn’t think he’d ever looked that happy. And Simon… his eyes were closed and his curls were a mess and Wilhelm had never seen anyone more beautiful. (chapter 3)
El Retiro
Simon looked at Wilhelm much too adoringly for a statement this goofy. “The ducks are gay!” He yelled at Santiago and Paula, “Just so you know!” (chapter 9)
Palacio de Cristal
“Here’s a funny thought - bear with me, okay? But just imagine. Flowers. Everywhere, like on the ceiling, up the walls. Fairy lights scattered all through it. It would be so gorgeous as a- uh, like. For a wedding…” Realising where his train of thought had gotten him, Wilhelm fell quiet, looking at Simon with wide eyes. (chapter 9)
El Palacio Real de Madrid (more specifically the Throne Room lmfao)
Simon traced his fingers over the bruises on Wilhelm’s neck and in the opening of his dress shirt, humming contentedly. Wilhelm followed the movement in the mirror, and marvelled at how good they looked together, how well they fit together and how much Simon belonged right here – on the throne, with Wilhelm. He deserved the world and so much more. (chapter 12)
Museo Nacional del Prado
Around them, the other visitors kept moving, admiring the art on the walls, and for the moment Wilhelm felt infinite, imagining himself a painting, looked at and analysed hundreds of years from now. El Abrazo de los Príncipes.
Lo Spasimo, Raphael, 1515-1517
“Are we allowed to kiss in front of Jesus on his way to crucifixion or is that tasteless? Because I really want to kiss you right now, Simon.”
Las Meninas, Diego Velázquez, 1656
“He made me look at Velázquez in the painting and how he was looking back at the viewer, at me. I still remember the exact tone of his voice, how he was so certain when he told me that I had every right to be where I am. That I am the subject of this painting, the king being painted. All those tyrants, King Felipe and Emmanuel and all those that came in between, they are trapped in that mirror forever while I am here, alive, we’re here. Velázquez is looking at two queer princes, ready to paint us.” (chapter 13)
Casa Alberto
“So, tell me more about this special part of Madrileñan history.” He was slightly teasing but mostly actually curious.
Simon seemed all too eager to answer that question, and it hit Wilhelm how genuine Simon’s care for his city — his country — and its people was. It made him a little sad to know that a lot of people didn’t get to see that because they only focused on Simon being too gay or too Latino, or even just too carefree and enjoying life because he was young, to be their future king.
bonus content:
Iglesia de San Antonio de los Alemanes (where Simon goes to church)
“I think I need to go somewhere.”
“Oh?” Wilhelm said softly, “Right now?”
Simon hesitated before he nodded. “I need to- get some clarity? Or - I hope that I’ll get it there?” He whispered, voice shaky.
“Do you want to tell me where you’re going?”
“To- uh, to pray? I mean- to church? I don’t know if I’ll pray…” Simon’s voice was shaky, uncertainty shining in his eyes when he dared to look up at Wilhelm. (chapter 11)
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just want to send a message of support/admiration/enjoyment that i love aeryn and your posts about him + about his relationship with gortash. beautifully fucked up situation :)
i wanted to ask, do you have ao3/fics about him linked somewhere? (my apologies if you've already posted a link and I just missed it!)
THANK YOU that means so muuuch 🫀
i haven’t completed anything for them yet unfortunately, although i’ve got their third first Real meeting in the works! do not get your hopes up about it being good or coming out soon though i’ve been finding it impossible these past few days.
here, have the first line of my old abandoned wip from before gortae really found their groove
it’s Gortash talking about Helsik (and her ability to make Paella, for some reason) by the way
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Also have a fun little life update since it’s 8 AM (the time it is everywhere in the world right now) and I haven’t slept and my partner’s work alarm is going off—
Graduated from college in 2020(sad party popper noise). Studied theatre, visual arts, art history. Emmett Timeline OUT. Andrew Rose Timeline IN.
Started testosterone and changed my name AGAIN in 2020. Got FUCKING medicated.
Worked as a manager for FuckBucks for a few years, as I feel is a valid post-theatre-degree job, many arts graduates would agree.
Started an art business that’s currently on hiatus(for moving reasons). Made a few zines. Still doing that. Had a fun pagan spiritual awakening.
Saw My Chemical Romance and The Mountain Goats within a week of each other and came out a changed man(-adjacent).
Started dating my best friend from high school and we moved to our dream city with my college roommate, my cat, and my partner’s snake the week before I turned 25.
Moved from the mountains to the ocean with a brief(lol) stint in eastern Massachusetts suburbia(read:hell).
Quit smoking cigarettes. Started smoking cigarettes again. We grow and quit again, save for when heavy drinking is involved(read: rarely).
Working at a cool artsy downtown cafe with cool artsy people!! My partner works with vampires!! Dipping my toes into theatre again(slowly)(very slowly)(literally just got this job and don’t know how to schedule that around theatre schedules)(we learn and adapt).
I picked up my Doctor Who writing fixation like an old long-untouched sketchbook full of familiar-ish art that I want to sketch over, finish unfinished pieces, and try my hand at redoing old work in a not-very-changed style. I want to write old muses like I redo character designs.
I picked up my general Doctor Who hyperfixation and slammed it against a wall like a wet teddy bear for the satisfying sound it makes.
And I am, perhaps, actually, legitimately, most importantly, the happiest I’ve been in my 25 long and short years on planet earth.
(The Brainworms for the Master & the Doctor [both separate & together entities] never went away. The Brainworms for everyone else came back with a vengeance.)
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