Thank god for three-day weekends. It snowed last night, and later, I'll have to go out to do grocery shopping, but for now, I plan to sit on the couch beneath my new fleecy purple blanket and watch some tv or read or write something.
I did post a story yesterday:
what hands uncoverBatman: The Animated Series; Babs/Dick; pg; 1290 words
Robin and Batgirl, chasing each other, always competing as much as working together.
I was worried that Barbara was a little too prickly, but it seems like she was just the right amount. *g*
I like this pairing - I think I might like Dick/Kory a little more, because the animated Teen Titans Robin/Starfire is absolutely too adorable for words and I kind of love that version of Starfire a lot and want her to be happy (while still not really knowing comics!Starfire at all), but I enjoyed writing this.
I think Dick is really attached to the performance of romance, and that Barbara knows that and possibly never quite trusts it because she knows it is a performance, albeit a heartfelt one, and so on some level she's always second-guessing him and his feelings for her, which feeds into her own insecurities and makes her pricklier.
I'm still sorting through my thoughts about why Dick does the things he does in canon relationship-wise with the women in his life, and the way on the one hand he self-sabotages, but on the other, it's kind of a means of protecting himself while also feeding his need to please people so they'll love him, but also how his feelings for Barbara and Kory at least are completely genuine and not at all mutually exclusive and how he's a serial monogamist because he hasn't realized he'd be happier in some kind of polyamorous arrangement, mainly because I'm not sure he knows it's an option, even after being with Kory for so long (and unfortunately, extratextually it's probably not, despite the fact that that's how his relationships seem to be written).
Anyway, here's the poem the title and section headers come from:
nocturnal triptych from room 116
i) denial of darkness
there is no such thing as night,
if night means a wasteland,
a beast that goes hungry
the dark that comes after sunset
whispers its surrender outside,
cheek against our window
this room with its quickened
pulse knows nothing of
blackness, of sleep
ii) the far side of night
eyes see no more
than what hands
uncover
my spine becomes
the axis of our
world
your lopsided face
the dark side of
the moon
my imperfect body
a garden to plant
a lily
together we breathe
into an empty
shell
together we count
little noises like
beads
wrapped in afterglow
limb knowing limb
we lie
iii) first light
just before sunrise,
we let sleep take us:
we no longer need to fear
the loud colours of dreams,
silence cutting through
skin, waking up cold
~Michaela A. Gabriel
***
This entry at DW:
http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/288087.html.
people have commented there.