listen it's not that I think epic the musical is a perfect adaption of the odyssey but it was an impressive passion project that knew what it wanted to be and knew what people gravitated to in the original work and it put significant effort into conveying this through its unique medium and tone to the point that hundreds of other people felt compelled to put effort into their own artistic interpretations of that version of the story. and that's really cool! and yes I would be more critical if it was a 100 million dollar project made by a professional because what the fuck do you mean you're a world-famous director and you cut the my name is nobody scene are you goddamn serious
Realistically the age-gap between Lorna and the Maximoff Twins is probably only like 6 years but it's really funny to imagine the twins being 40 while Lorna is like. 28 when they find out they're all related
Oh, God forbid the girl with abandonment issues gets jealous. God forbid a woman gets insecure. God forbid a woman be mean 1% of the time she's on screen. God forbid a woman doesn't get along with everyone. God forbid a woman be a little selfish for once in her life. God forbid that a woman roughhouses with another character. God forbid she gives another character a nickname. God forbid a female character have a negative trait that doesn't make her perfect. God forbid women do anything except die and haunt the narrative with how perfect they were and how they were too pure for this cruel and unforgiving world.
Seeing X-Factor in '97 reminded me of All New X-Factor. So naturally, I drew my fav three from that team. I looooved this serval suit design so much! 🖤🩶💛
The way people treat the kids/teens in twdg is actually crazy because wdym you dropped Ben who was just a scared kid in the apocalypse with no support system. Wdym you didn’t try to save Sarah, an autistic kid who just watched her dad die in front of her. Wdym you treated Gabe like shit and say he’s the worst and you love the ending where he dies THATS UR FUCKING KID YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE A PARENT TO HIM
being a writer is wild cause you'll get a crushing professional rejection and then five minutes later someone on AO3 with a username like destieltrashfire will tell you your work is holding their mental health together singlehandedly and you just gotta roll with that whiplash
Another D!DOFP Gambit and Pietro drabble for my beloved @cal-caje (they make me ill and so do you)
~~~
"Chère, please stop."
Remy's voice was firm but not unkind.
A plea that fell on deaf ears as Pietro threw back his head and downed another bottle of bourbon to join the scattered mess on the floor.
"You've had too much," Remy said.
"Don't tell me what to fucking do," Pietro drawled, his vision so blurry he couldn't even glare.
A bad night. One of many in the past month. Remy began to worry how frequent these nights were becoming.
"You're scaring me, chère," Remy said nervously. "This isn't like you."
Sneering, Pietro forced himself to stand from the couch and muttered, "Fine- I won't bother you."
"That's not what I meant-"
Pietro tried to move past him.
Remy caught his arm- crossing a boundary he knew he shouldn't, but so scared that he might leave and never come back that he didn't care.
As predicted, Pietro shoved his hand away with a scowl. "Don' touch me," he spat.
"Don't leave, then," Remy begged. "Please- just talk to me."
Wiping at his eyes, Pietro murmured tiredly, "Nothing to talk about."
"You sure? Because you've been all over the place for weeks, chère," Remy said with a hint of frustration. "I got no idea when you're coming over- if you're coming back. You drink yourself away till I barely recognise you anymore."
Pietro huffed. "You've seen me drink before," he defended himself weakly.
"Not like this," Remy refuted, pointing to the bottle still clutched in his hand as he snapped, "Never like this."
"What does it matter?"
Remy's heart clenched.
"You matter! Isn't that enough?!"
Finally- finally, Pietro lifted his gaze. Blue eyes that he adored muted to a dull grey in the low light. Tears he had tried so hard to hide now caught in his lashes.
"Remy…"
All Remy's frustration fled from his system, replaced with worry in one swift motion.
"Yeah, chère?"
Pietro sniffled.
"I'm so tired…"
Remy's heart shattered.
And he didn't say anything. Didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to help.
All Remy could bring himself to do was step closer and gently reach for the bottle in Pietro's hand, pausing when the speedster flinched, before sliding the bourbon out of his grasp. Pietro didn't fight to hold it. Remy took that as a good sign.
Gesturing to the couch, Remy waited patiently as Pietro fell back against the cushions and laid down. It seemed only natural to drag the blanket off the armrest and lay it over Pietro, who was quickly fading into unconsciousness. Exhausted to the bone- maybe even deeper than that.
Remy would be lying if he said he slept well that night. In fact, he spent the whole night sitting in the adjacent armchair, watching the staggered rise and fall of Pietro's chest. Assuring himself the man was alive. That he wouldn't run away without a goodbye, this time. Scared of what might become of him if he continued down this dark spiral.
"Don't leave me now, chère," Remy whispered, somewhere late in the night like a prayer. "My heart just wouldn't take it."
Pietro continued to sleep, smothered in an alcoholic haze, and Remy could do nothing more than let out a tired sigh.
