littlestartopaz asked: So that makes Steve Patro.... Patty. And Bucky is Achilles? (I can't spell. :x)
Yeah, Patroclus would be default-Steve and Achilles is the unfortunate victim of getting a bit mindwiped. Which incidentally is not how I would assign those roles if, say for example, I was going to do some kind of reincarnation plot. Because literally the entire post-CA:TWS plotline can be summed up as “sing, o muse, of the wrath of Steven Grant Rogers when you fuck with Bucky Barnes,” which means that obviously Steve is the golden god-born hero of legend and Bucky is his anchor to mortal life and the cause for great ruin of their many-armed enemy upon his death at their hands. Complete with Pyrrhic victory.
Anonymous asked: If you are in the mood to write pain (and, really, when aren't you in the mood to write pain): Rachel/Tobias during the early war
*mean cackling* So when I’m in a very particular mood
about the little girl I used to be and how much she was screwed over, I tend to
take it out on my characters. Ergo, I am
banned from touching my Alleirat story until our houseguest leaves, and will
instead be writing Animorphs because how much worse could I make it. Sorry. And since this got pretty long and also there’s not exactly loads of
Animorphs fic, I crossposted it to AO3. If you like Animorphs, maybe comment on that
shit or something.
It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since
the disastrous attack on the Yeerk pool, the sun still over the trees at the
edge of the forest where it butted up against Cassie’s farm. The horse she’d morphed, whose quick legs had
saved Cassie and one single woman the night before, was loose in the field, and
Rachel was cross-legged on a crate in the barn as Cassie murmured to a wounded
rabbit. Rachel felt dazed, with
exhaustion and shock, as if every blink and turn of her head demanded a fresh
calibration of her brain, a new moment of I’m
alive and nothing is okay. She’d
spent an hour in the shower after getting home, with the water as hot as she
could stand, but she could still feel the grit of the Yeerk pool floor on her
palms and feet, and kept expecting to catch a glimpse of Hork-Bajir blood on
her human teeth in the mirror.
Cassie didn’t seem much better, her hands
still where she would usually be smoothly going through her tasks and her voice
mindless nonsense, as if she was as numb as Rachel. The silence wasn’t quite tense, but there was
an unmistakable taut feeling that kept even the noisiest patients subdued and
quiet.
“Did Jake say why he wanted to talk to us?”
Rachel finally asked, and Cassie glanced up, shaking her head.
Anonymous asked: Lurker here. I saw that post about "Baby It's Cold Outside." I still hate that song, because when you know the history, it just makes it more obvious why evil old farts think women are lying in the modern day about date rape. Because back in THEIR day, that was what consensual sex had to look like. TL,DR: Still hate this song.
Okay, look buddy, I’m not disagreeing with your ABSOLUTE PREROGATIVE to hate the song. You 100% have the right to stand by that, and I would never disagree with it. Your statement here is also completely accurate, and speaking as someone with a long ugly history of sexual assault (do you lurk enough to know that too, or are you just losing your temper?) I even agree with it. It was this attitude that you had to at least claim that you’d resisted in order to protect your reputation (”At least I can to say that I tried”) even if the sex was consensual that feeds into our modern culture’s total denial of date rape claims.
That being said, the specific song “Baby It’s Cold Outside” is radically different if you evaluate it as a song written in “their day” as opposed to the way most people do it, as a song written in our day. Culture is written in songs and stories, and this song speaks to a part of culture that is different today, that’s why it’s interesting. I’m not saying you have to like the song, nor am I questioning any skeeved-out feelings you have toward it, but there is a lot to be said for knowing one’s history in order to progress forward rather than backward, socially speaking.
Finally, may I ask why you felt the need to tell me specifically this thing? Because if you do lurk so often on my blog, as your intro implies, I don’t know what in particular you hoped to convey other than making me a little ill-tempered, because regardless of how you meant it, this ask comes off as fairly rude. And, as I have so frequently mentioned over the last few days, I am tired and stressed out about my family and generally exasperated with humanity. Like. You had to know I’d be inclined to take something like this a little poorly.
