Ruby: *Stares down at her glass, thinking* WhatDoISay? WhatDoISay? WhatDoISay?! Oum, I never have this problem with Yang or uncle Qrow why is it always with Dad? *Sigh* I wish Uncle Qrow was here. I could use a joke of his. Or at least I could draw funny shapes on him for Dad. *Looks up at her father, who is looking at her intently* I’m suppose to be his daughter yet we have nothing in common. My hair’s black, his hair’s yellow. He’s tall, I’m short. He’s tan and I burn like a flaming Beowolf. I even have to wonder: what he’s thinking?
Taiyang: *Thinking* Oh dear Oum, I have nothing to say to my own child! This never happens with Yang or Qrow. With Yang I can always just ask about her Ember Celica or talk about school and with Qrow I could just get him hammered and draw on his face. *Sigh* I really do wish Qrow was here, he’d know what to say. *chuckles* Real great parenting Taiyang, unable to communicate with your own fucking child.
Ruby: Um Dad?
Taiyang: *shocked, jumping in his chair* Yeah?!
Ruby: I was uh…thinking about…*looks around the house as her eyes landed on a picture of her mother* mom.
Ruby: Yeah. What-what was mom like when you first met her?
Taiyang: Summer back at Beacon? *Places his hand under his chin thoughtfully* she was very…shy.
Ruby: *sounding a little exasturbated* Like me?
Taiyang: Kind of. Summer just preferred fight Grimm and save people than actually talking to them. But once she started opening up, people really seemed to gravitate towards her. She always had this air of…calmness to her, something that just made you trust her.
Ruby: *Looking up at him* Am I not like that?
Taiyang: *panicing slightly* No no! It’s not like that! You’re…you’re…Ugh, you’re more awkward than shy?
Taiyang: Even when you’re around people and have opened up to them, you still seem to have trouble with them. Always worrying saying or doing the wrong thing while being unable to tell what the right thing is. Even when she was nervous, Summer always knew what to say to people, like their hearts and minds were open to her.
Ruby: I see, so I’m a screw up.
Taiyang: Ruby Rose, you are not a screw up.
Ruby: Well, apparently I am since I can’t even talk to my own father and yet my mother was some genius at talking!
Taiyang: Rosebud, just because you’re awkward doesn’t make you a screw up *She ignores him, looking down at her glass of water disdainfully as Taiyang sighs* Ruby, I know how hard it is to talk to people (More than you could possibly know) and I know it seems so frustrating not being able to do what others make look so easy. But just because you can’t talk with people doesn’t make you a screw up.
Ruby: How so?
Taiyang: Well, for starters, I don’t think a screw up could wield one of the most dangerous weapons ever conceived by Huntsman, constantly places in first in her combat classes, has been considered for advanced classes and such. What you lack in people skills, you more than make up for in skill and heart. Understand now Rosebud?
Ruby: *sniffs, wiping away a happy tear* yeah, thanks Dad.
If you're still doing it....Sorano/Kinana + Blush 👀
I’ve stared at this forever. Why not do it when I’m up way past my bedtime and trying to get to sleep. I think it’s canon-compliant for their first meeting but we all know I’m not actually reading the manga right now sooo…
When they first met, Kinana remembered little, just a tiny, pursed rosebud mouth and a dirty little body. She was all tears and struggles then, something a tiny snake knew little about. Then later laughs and anger, still struggling to grow from the muck.
But Kinana was bound to one human already, and that was enough. Snakes were simple creatures, and it wasn’t until she regained her human form her view of others changed for the better.
When they met a second time, years later, she was reminded of a rose just barely blooming. Then was a frantic time, full of war and battles, copper and crimson, lose and mourning. It was not the time to be thinking about a strange woman she’d met in the thick of fighting, even if it’d been during a lull.
Yet the woman carried the smell of Erik with her (the former form she held left her with a complex sense of smell far beyond the average human after all), and that made her chest ache and her throat long to ask inappropriate and hurried questions. But the moment passed, wafting along like the light, crisp floral scent of roses that faded with the lack of her presence.
When they met a third time, the woman had blossomed more, opening up vibrantly, clearly at ease in the company of her guildmates and relieve of that frown she’d been carrying before like the heaviest burden. There was a new twinkle to her eyes and Kinana wondered what it was.
Erik heard her, of course. They had their own little reunion, trading secret and silent glances that spoke over their years of separation like it’d been mere hours; that was the kind of bond they had, where time was no hindrance. A warm peace settled over her in the moment and she forgot the woman for a brief moment. It wasn’t long, but that was the longest her rose had left her thoughts.
When they met the only time that counted, Kinana hadn’t expected to stumble into her after a grueling double shift covering at the bar for Mira. She was clearly waiting, hands tucked behind her back and outfit more casual than provocative for once. Ebony eyes flickered up and a beautiful hue of pink crossed the bridge of her nose and flooded alabaster cheeks the pinkest of pinks. A rose in full bloom, hidden thorns, but an unmistakable breathtaking beauty nonetheless.
“Erik wanted me to give you these, the lazy loser,” she remarked haughtily, still blushing and dark eyes trained on the ground as she produced a bouquet of roses from behind her back, “He said… they’re your favorites. Roses, I mean.”
“Um, thank you,” a least one type of rose was her favorite but leave it to Erik to be vague; he was probably having a good chuckle at their expense. “I do love love watching beautiful things bloom… you’re so beautiful, my rose.”
Heart-stopping, she felt that icy dread that wash from top to bottom at the slip. Maybe Sorano hadn’t heard it…?
Sorano gave a snort-wheeze, composure broken and admitted weakly, “So it’s okay I’ve been referring to you as little lilac? No wonder Erik was being such an ass. We’re both a pair of smitten morons and that snake knew it from the start.”
“He’s like that sometimes.”
“Try all the time. I should tell you some embarrassing stories about what he’s been up to… in revenge.”
Kinana gave a laugh that was less cute and more evil, “I’m sure we can think up something more appropriate for Mr. Matchmaker.”
My Main Five Problems With The Upcoming Citizen Kane Remake
As many of my fellow movie fans are aware, a remake of the grand classic movie of all time is coming in 2019. Here’s why this is a terrible idea:
Shia LaBeouf is no Orson Welles. I know he’s a popular actor these days but Welles had an amazing edge that made him right for the role well beyond being the director. I’m not a fan of LaBeouf but even if I were I’d have gone with another actor for this specific role, and he sure as hell shouldn’t be the one to direct it.
The subject is all wrong. Kane was a media mogul, if you want to remake it, make it about a Rupert Murdoch facsimile or even a blogger that takes the world by storm. Making it about an orthodontist is just weird and unnecessary.
Having Skrillex and Justin Bieber do the soundtrack is wrong on so many levels I don’t even know what to say about it. Just no.
Making Rosebud a CGI-Animated comic relief character betrays everything the original stood for. The whole point of it was that a great man died thinking about (spoiler). Rosebud is not supposed to be the Jar Jar Binks of the Citizen Kane world. And speaking of world-
They’re making it the start of a “cinematic universe?” Really? Is this just the big new buzzword that everyone wants after Marvel? What the hell is the point of a Citizen Kane cinematic universe? There isn’t one. Worst idea ever.
So continuing on pearl's sand manipulation power, imagine her doing it for the babs and one of the rosebuds freaking the hell out because whoa pale mama just made another rosebud!! who is this new rosebud why is she all grainy and one colour? And having a little breakdown when the sand falls apart because noooo where did the rosebud go?? (pearl swears never to do this again, wailing rosebuds are incredibly loud) (peeper is very chill during this and tries to copy her mother with little success)
After that we found that she loved the sand figures so much that she would cry every time Pearl went to demolish them. Eventually we had to stop because she was getting tired and cranky, and boy did she sob. I’ve never heard anything like it. We’ve decided to wait until they’re a bit older to try playing with sand again.
@shipperqueen93 prompted: “Rumbelle prompt: I just moved into the house next to you and I’m like 102% positive it’s haunted, could I please stay with you tonight? I don’t want to die by ghost attack.”
When Belle saw the removal van pull up outside the large pink house on the hill, and when she saw the removal men start to take all the furniture out of the aforementioned van and into the aforementioned house, she could not help but wonder how long it would be before they came back to take all the furniture out of the house, never to darken its doorstep again.
It was not that the large pink house on the hill was haunted per se. It was just that its first owner was very reluctant to part with it and was rather annoyed when other people kept moving in, even if she had been deceased and in no position to actually use the house for the past three hundred years.
On Guardians of the Galaxy, and the line I will not cross.
I haven’t actually been on Tumblr much these past few weeks, and in particular I haven’t been on it at a computer lately, but having just seen Guardians of the Galaxy again last night, I really feel the need to address something in how the criticism of Drax and That Line that he says about Gamora is being processed by a lot of fans.
For me, that line is out of character and out of continuity. The writers simply got that part of the chronicle of What Really Happened wrong. They went for a cheap joke at the expense of a socially acceptable “easy target” and the story suffered for it. It’s a sour note. It rings wrong.
A lot of people, though, while acknowledging the line as misogynistic, have spun out the theory that Drax was merely repeating an epithet he’d heard hurled at her, and not understanding figures of speech, assumed it was true without judgment.
And the thing is, I understand that when you go to see Hollywood blockbusters as a woman, sometimes you have to hold your nose and figure out a way to explain away what you’re smelling. I understand the principle of what we might call “protective headcanons”.
But the thing is, women in general were not the targets of that line. And when we start explaining away the problematic parts of a narrative that are primarily harmful to others, we’re making excuses.
See, when we sum up the problem with a line like that as being “it’s a misogynistic slur”, we’re ignoring the actual mechanism of violence being employed, which is to demean a woman (who is presumed to be above such degradation) by comparing her to other[ed] women, who are presumed to embody it… a presumption that is reinforced both by the comparison, and by outraged reactions that essentially boil down to “How dare you suggest that [I/her/Gamora/whoever] is a mere ________.”
Nota Bene: If your criticism of/reaction to the line does not go beyond “misogynistic slur”, then your reaction boils down to it.
“Bitch” is a misogynistic slur because it compares women to animals… breeding animals with unclean habits.
“W****” compares women to each other.
To sum it up as misogyny is to suggest that misogyny is what happens when the right women are treated like the wrong women.
I feel like if you’re not a sex worker, that’s not a line you should be excusing. You should not be cheerily amending the film to include a backstory for the line that turns it into a lighthearted, lovable misunderstanding so you can watch the movie comfortably. That scene should always be uncomfortable, it should always ring as a false, harsh, discordant note.
I will be honest: I love this movie, and right now… and probably for the next several years… it is the most important piece of media in my emotional repertoire for deeply personal reasons.
So when I say that I don’t care how much you love the movie, please understand that I’m not saying “don’t love the movie”. I couldn’t stop loving it if I tried.
But loving something thorns and all doesn’t mean pretending the thorns are just a few extra rosebuds, especially when the thorn just caught your sleeve but it gouged someone else’s arm.
Remember how you would count the stars
When you were small;
Just a rosebud,
A tiny voice
Like a cherub’s metronome,
Front teeth traded for a shiny coin
And a note
Written by a secret fairy.
They were yours, to me
We didn’t dare to tell you different,
You always were your own
Now those stars and moons
Have left their velvet home
To rest and grow
Inside of you;
You are a galaxy
There is awe and wonder
In every corner of you.
The boys that tell you
You are beautiful
Have no idea
That the night sky they gaze at through their window
Belongs to you
And always will.
You and I were made from the same dust;
I see the same clouds that I have known
Behind your eyes.
We shared our earliest years
We grew together
In baths that lasted
Until we were ice cold,
You have our father’s eyes
And our mother’s legs
But the burdens inside of you
We grew together
Through a childhood of hair pulling
Into a sisterhood
Where daisies grew through weeds
Strength from pain,
Found within each other.
You let me rest my heavy head
On your fragile shoulder
And told me I was strong.
I still count the stars for you
And hope you don’t forget
That they still burn
Anyone who dares to look
Will see them
Like gorgeous flames
Behind your eyes.
A constellation not yet discovered
The stunning figure of Dr Maura Isles striding into the bullpen appeared in the corner of Jane’s eye, and the detective turned to fully appreciate the sight. A long morning surrounded by the hoi polloi of the Boston Police Department left her aching for just a glimpse of the beautiful blonde, though exactly why she needed to see her was a mystery to the detective. Sure, within a few weeks they had become good friends, but before meeting the quirky woman Jane would have had no complaints about being around a bunch of cops all day. In fact, she would have relished being “one of the boys”. But now, a simple visit from the doctor put a stubborn, lopsided grin on her face, and sent a warm current buzzing under her skin.
And as luck would have it, instead of stopping just inside the room to deliver results from their latest case, Maura headed straight to her desk. Jane tried in vain to wipe the grin off her face, instead spreading it further across her cheeks as her gorgeous friend stopped in front of her and smiled, white teeth on display.
“Detective Rizzoli, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important?”
it’s a small class- only about fifteen students- with personalized cubbies on the walls, labled with their names. there’s a bookshelf filled with picture books and stuffed animals up against the window, beanbag chairs arranged in a circle, toychests in the corners…
simon huddles into his mother’s side and looks suspiciously at the other children. lucy sighs.
“alright, rosebud, i’m just going to leave you here, okay?”
simon sticks out his lower lip, clutches his mother’s hand tighter. “mummy…”
“be a man, simon,” says david, and lucy frowns at him.
“he’s only five, dear.”
“when i was five-”
“i don’t want to go,” whispers simon, not loud enough for davy to hear over his monologue. lucy crouches down beside him, ignoring her husband.
“you’ll make lots of new friends- and look, you can play with the blocks, just like at home.”
“but- what if they don’t like me?”
lucy laughs. “why on earth wouldn’t they like you?” she tilts simon’s chin up. “sweetheart, it’s going to be fine.” she stands, looks around the room.
there’s another little boy standing by himself- pale, with dark hair and crossed arms.
“go on, introduce yourself. he looks nice.”
“mummy, what’s he wearing?”
“because he wants to look nice.”
“oh. why am i not wearing a suit?”
lucy laughs again. “sweetheart, i know you’re stalling. go talk to him.”
“what does stalling mean?” asks simon desperately.
simon pouts, sulks over to where the boy is standing. “i’m simon.”
the boy looks around, considers him for a long moment. “okay.”
they both wait expectantly. simon breaks first.
“what’s your name?”
“tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch,” he says, sticking his hand out. “but you can call me baz.”
simon shakes his hand cautiously. “you can call me simon.”
“can we be friends?”
baz considers him for a long while. “why?”
he shrugs. “dunno. because. can we?”
“okay,” says baz again, and smiles for the first time. simon grins back.
“it’s my first day here, mummy just dropped me off- she’s over there, look!” he waves at her, and she waves back. “where’s your mummy?”
“she left already,” says baz shyly. “she works at the big school. she’s the headmistress.”
“oh, wow! what about your dad?”
baz looks at his shoes. “father didn’t want to come. he said it was time for me to go on my own, because i’m older now.”
“that’s what my dad said too! mummy made him come, though.” he grabs baz’s hand. “d'you want to play with the blocks?”
“i can build castles,” baz confides.
“i can’t,” admits simon, and drags baz over. baz giggles.
“you’re so… sparky.”
“can- can we be best friends?” asks baz tentatively. simon beams.
“yeah! we’ve got to pinkie promise, though.”
baz frowns. “why?”
“because that’s how promises stay together.” simon raises his pinkie high. “c'mon, baz-”
baz shrugs, locks his pinkie in.
“mummy, i made a best friend!”
lucy looks up from her book and just manages to catch the energetic bundle as it jumps into her lap. simon grins up at her. “that’s lovely, darling, who?”
“his name is tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch, and he’s really good at building, and-”
her smile pauses. “i’m sorry, rosebud, who?”
“tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch, he’s taller than me but that’s okay because i’ll grow and his hair is long-”
the grimm-pitches. of course- she should have known; who else would dress their five year old in a suit on the first day of school?
they’re not good people, from what lucy can gather. brilliant, yes, and powerful- the grimms own a massive farming corporation, which malcom grimm-pitch handles, and natasha is a genius and the headmistress of watford academy. but watford is ridiculously elitist- it’s only after she left that lucy even began to realize the extent of it. only the richest, the most influential, could get it- and davy, her husband. because he was brilliant enough (and determined enough) that they couldn’t deny him.
that’s the only reason simon gets to go.
“are you… sure you want to be friends with him?”
simon frowns. “we’re best friends.”
“yes, darling, but- was he a nice boy?”
“yes,” says simon defensively. “he shared his snack with me.”
“he wasn’t mean to you?”
“he was nice, mummy!” simon climbs down. “can he come over? so you can see how nice he is?”
she sighs. “i suppose i don’t see why not. how about you ask him tomorrow?”
“you’ll see,” he says seriously.
she laughs, ruffles his hair. “okay, darling, i’m sorry.”
“baz, do you want to come to my house today?”
baz looks up from his book- he can read already, which simon is very impressed with- with big eyes.
simon flops down beside him. “i want you to meet mummy. and dad too, i guess. and we can make scones.”
“scones?” repeats baz. simon nods fervently.
“sour cherry scones, mummy says. and they’re really yummy. well,” he pauses. “well, i can’t make them quite yet, even though i’m big now, because i’m also messy. but you could, if you asked.”
“oh,” says baz. he looks overwhelmed. “i’ve never been invited to anyone’s house before.”
simon nods. “me neither. but that’s because i’ve never had a best friend before. so you’ll come over?”
“i have to ask mother,” says baz doubtfully.
“i’ll help, don’t worry.” simon looks up at him. “have you ever had sour cherry scones?”
“no,” says baz thoughtfully. simon nods, like he just confirmed something.
“then you’ve got to come over. okay? pinkie promise?”