#I am once again thinking about The Bear and it’s representation of grief

[damnikindadontcare]

“As long is there is love, there will be grief”- Heidi Priebe

[wexhappyxfew]

HELLO LIL BEAN 💛 you already know who I’m here for eheh Death please!

LINDA AHHHH HELLO!!! :D Sorry that I’ve just been able to FINALLY get to this! My schoolwork load today was absolutely insane if I’m being quite honest and I already get distracted so easily, so the snow outside and just the everyday distractions of life aren’t that great either LOL!! But I AM FINISHED AND THE NIGHT IS MINE SO -- let’s get into it! In this post, we’ll be digging into Natia + Death’s relationship, and everything essentially surrounding their connection which, out of everyone and everything in the book remains ENTICING and one of the strongest - quite strange for someone like Natia and this personified being like Death right? ;) 

I really liked the way this moodboard turned out, because just about every aspect encompasses a bit of Natia + Death’s relationship with one another AND SO - I will be going through each photo to discuss their relationship and bring it to life a bit! I thought this would be a fun way, to not only have a reference image, but also a description as to WHY I decided on the images for the moodboard that depicts their relationship so vividly! But let’s get a few things hit right off the bat first!

(1) Not once do Natia and Death communicate through words - one of the most powerful things about their connection with one another is simply that. They never speak one word to each other yet, they have one of the strongest relationships throughout the entire book because of simply the deep-seeded connection they hold with one another.

(2) This deep-seeded connection is really rooted in Day 1 after Natia witnesses the death of her parents - though not a scene in the book, it is referenced a various amount of times and is a moment Natia tends to think about more often than not in her time. It’s sort of my play on when Death comes to her and begins to pity her. Oh yes....there is a whole lot of pitying - and Natia HATES pitying...we know this ;)

(3) Agent Mortem is literally Agent ‘Death’ or the Agent of Death. I specifically chose Mortem as Agent Mortem’s codename simply because he really is this perceived Agent of Death in Natia’s eyes. I’m also a Latin Nerd and well, Latin nerds like this stuff HAHA! But truly, weaving that in and showing that not only is Death extremely important to Natia, but so is Agent Mortem (quite literally Death in his own way) has been super fun for me to craft and explore!

AND (4) I want to bring up Death’s connection with War. War is not a very prominent figure I decided to personify within the story, though he is basically the main center of attention lurking in the foreground as this is based in simply WAR! But War makes important appearances and almost in ways you maybe would’t quite expect him to. Number 1, War and Death dislike each other from the start and that’s just my own personal view on this entirely in my own story telling way. Number 2, Death says plenty of times how War makes all these decisions without second though and he has to clean up the mess yet he can’t pull himself away from someone (ahem...Natia) who essentially does much of the same. It’s a load of dramatic irony twisted with wordplay and phrases with double meanings that I LOVE! 

(can you tell I’m such a nerd with this LMAOOO!!)

OKAY! Now that those are out of the way, let’s jump under the cut I have inserted to dissect the 9 pictures above - they won’t be super detailed (okay they kinda are lmao), just some reasons why those pictures are important, just for time’s sake! Let’s get into it!

PICTURE 1: “ can we act like we never broke each other’s hearts...” I really, really loved this aesthetic quote photo for many reasons as - not in a romantic sense - but more in it that 2 broken-hearted people are trying to mend one another and obviously fail at it....that sort of thing, and it’s quite interesting to craft. Natia can’t help but feel attached to Death, yet she is so immersed and surrounded by it and it has brought such an immense amount of pain to her being - but she can’t help but let His feeling remain, only letting her heart break further and His the same - he can’t pull away either. 

PICTURE 2: “ two people, male and female, standing on the edges of cliffs, with an abyss in the center - darkness coming from the male’s side and light on the female’s “ WOW WOW WOW can I just say this is literally one of my favorites?! Before the war, Natia was not the Natia all the readers know and love currently - she was happy, she played PIANO, she was a CHILD, she was simply a little girl. There was light. Death always was darkness - darkness and sadness and grief and pain. And so, this picture really shows the beginning of their relationship - he brings he darkness and she lets him, she doesn’t fight it - BUT WAIT WHAT’S THAT??? AN ABYSS BETWEEN THEM??? Oohhh yet - you didn’t think I’d leave that one out now would ya? BUT THAT COMES FOR MUCH LATER - to a time in Bastogne particularly that is a spoiler - time will tell though!

PICTURE 3: ‘ I’m not even a whisper in your thoughts yet you’re the screaming in mine.’ All I gotta say is one word - Bastogne. Shit goes down in Bastogne and let’s just say a good portion is between Death and Natia - good or bad who knows, but it goes DOWN. I can’t elaborate much as it is spoiler-filled, but come back again once we hit Bastogne, we can chat again on this picture - I got a whole LOAD of info on it!

PICTURE 4: ‘ Cloaked figure ‘ I am actually delving deeper into Krysta’s ask with this picture, BUT when creating Death, I actually created a picture in my mind - from the beginning I wanted to make it a man, just for the dynamic that would be between Natia and Him and to show Him in a different light! But let’s just say (you’ll find more on the ask I answer for Krysta when I post it) cloaks are a MUST for Death - why might you ask? Why must he be portrayed in a cloak AHAHAH - you’ll see! 

PICTURE 5: “Courage meets Death” I LOVE this entire picture aesthetic so so much for Landslide. In a way, Natia, in my eyes is Courage and Death is well Death. It relates back to picture 2 big time with the whole light v dark contrast that I discussed, but it’s not an overpowering of the other quite here - more of an agreement like you can vibe with me and I’ll vibe with you and we’ll leave it to that for the moment. Like Natia fighting Death - connections perhaps?! ;) They’re equals here and equals is what they’ll always be - never more, never less - Death and Natia or in this sense Death and Courage remain equals.

PICTURE 6: “black, grey and white female + crying image” This is more of a representation of Natia - showing the world she sort of sees - not exactly color, but not entirely black and white - more grey, sort of like her character in a sense OR IF WE LIKE TO VIEW IT THIS WAY - the morally grey character that controls her....ahem Agent Mortem....who quite literally sees the world in grey. Just a little play on an idea like that, which is super fun! 

PICTURE 7: ‘I broke my rules for you.” OH BOY THIS ONE JUST SCREAMS DEATH TO ME! I reference quite a few times for Death this sort of rule book he has for himself, a bit later on in the book and he says quite a few times as well that even He broke his rules for Natia - he kept her from Death more than once and kept her safe. He is simply DEATH, yet he goes and protects another from it? From HIMSELF? Yet he drifts so near? .....yep that’s exactly how it is. He broke her rules for her - nearly everyone - to protect her from Him.

PICTURE 8: ‘Death’s hand holding a mortals clenched’ So I really played around with perspective on the moodboard here and purposely made the strip down the center show Death’s side as the left and Natia’s as the right and meeting in the center! This image portrays the control Death seems to hold on Natia at times - her mind consumed and intoxicated by him and in the most recent chapter (Weapons Don’t Weep - *26) we seen right at the end, that admist the chaos, there stands Death, the shutting of his eyes as a way to attempt to silence the chaos for her - yet he is the reason for her having to bear all this chaos. It’s quite an intense dynamic, but very true their relationship!

PICTURE 9: ‘flirting with Death’ Okay, we all know Natia is confident in her own capabilities and who she is and let’s just say, she brushes a little too close to Death’s touch for many of her friends and family’s liking. In no way is this portrayed in a romantic sense, but more of in the sense that Natia’s ‘flirting’ with Death is almost a clear want from it, no matter how much Death tries his best to protect her from him. Yet they draw so close to one another which complicates things. It only adds more to the complexity of their connection with one another but is truthful in so many ways! 

[jbuffyangel]

Second Chances: Arrow 8x04 Review (Present Tense)

Holy frack there is a lot to unpack. 

Ha! That rhymes.  Let’s dig in….

***Skipping the Quick and Dirty because this review is very late, so I figure y’all know the basic plot from other sources by now.

 Oliver and William

Let’s start with the simpler of the two relationships between father and child. Oliver is still reeling from Mia’s, “Dad?” when William runs into his arms because he is the softest bear to ever live. 

Source: norahasotherstuff

He’s missed his dad so much and it’s pure, overwhelming joy that propels him forward without a minute of hesitation. I love how free William is with his emotions. He’s a bursting ball of light and love. Reminds me of someone.

Oliver’s understanding of who this is sinks in when he feels his son’s arms around him. SOB.  

Source: olicitygifs 

William is the first of anybody to understand they are in the past. Or present. Or something. The lack of crappy makeup and horrifically bad wigs in the first tip off, but the fact Oliver isn’t six feet underground is the primary clue for this Hardy boy.

Source: feilcityqueen 

Oliver and William are given some time to catch up back at the apartment. Oliver’s immediate instinct is to call Felicity and tell her what is going on. 

Look my friends! The writers remembered there are things called PHONES on Earth 1. 

Isn’t honest and communicative Oliver so refreshing? It’d be so nice if his wife could enjoy it on screen. 

William shuts down getting in touch with Felicity because he doesn’t know the time travel rules. 

Are we Back to the Future or Avengers Endgame? William doesn’t know, so they shouldn’t contact Felicity yet.

Honestly, this entire conversation is just to address the perfunctory, “How do we handle MIA Emily Bett Rickards?” question.

For the record, I think Oliver not calling Felicity even once onscreen is bullshit. 

But here’s the thing – Emily is not part of Arrow Season 8 until the finale. End of discussion. We’re going to get lots of Felicity references and I think the writers have done a marvelous job of giving us content so far despite an unavailable actress. Could they write one-way phone conversations or throw texts up like Jane the Virgin? Sure, but this is Arrow and simple/logical resolutions aren’t their wheelhouse.

Regardless, they certainly aren’t going to deal with the EBR issue every week in every episode. The fans watching the show have to accept at a certain point that Emily Bett Rickards left the show and this is the reason why Felicity is not doing X, Y and Z. We do not need it spelled out for us every week.

Source: olicitygifs 

Olive is desperate for some good news in the future. This is such a fucking Season 7 mood. 

William obliges and tells him that he’s a billionaire corporate tech tycoon. So between his son and Felicity it no longer matters that Oliver signed over his children’s inheritance to a woman he banged one night in Russia. (I added that last part in).

Source: olicitygifs

Oliver is so proud he cries. I sob whenever my child accomplishes pretty much anything, so I feel this is a very accurate representation of parenthood.

It also opens the door for William to come out to his father, which he never had the chance to do. 

My favorite part was when Oliver confessed to William that he and Felicity knew he was gay… because parents always know whether they can admit it or not. 

Source: tylerposey 

Oliver cries again (right there with you buddy) and it’s a lovely scene. The basic takeaway is just love your kids.

Source: olicitygifs 

 Bless William for being excited about what I am excited about – they have a second chance to get to know each other. It’s easier for William and Oliver because they already built the foundation. There’s a lot to catch up on, but the bond between father and son is established. William has spent the last 20 years wishing he could talk to his dad and he’s not wasting this opportunity. No matter how bizarre it is.

William is the one to tell Present Team Arrow about how awful the future is and again, we’re already changing the future if this, in fact, Back to the Future rules. Rene knows his daughter dies and he becomes a corrupt politician. Oliver knows that Star City is still going to hell in a hand-basket despite all his sacrifices.

Barry gets a coffee and the key to the city in the second season. Oliver has been hero-ing for eight years and things still turn out crappy in the future. Sometimes it really sucks to be an Arrow fan. And yet I stay because I am a masochist who enjoys pain and excruciatingly difficult hero’s journeys. Something is seriously wrong with me.

Oliver is deep in brooding mode, sharpening arrows, after Mia yells at him for “playing dad” and leaves with L*urel. William wants to know why he didn’t stop her and the truth is Oliver thinks she’s right. He chose to leave. He has not earned the right to be her father. Not like he has with William.

But Oliver is forgetting he went through this with William. He blamed Oliver for his mother’s death.

Yes, William is a child and Mia is an adult. Yes, Oliver had to break his promise. He physically walked away to save their lives. But he remained devoted in his love and all the rest all remains true. The only way to earn being someone’s parent is to be their parent.

William’s grief over losing his mother was overwhelming. He was angry with Oliver, resented his choices and the way he was parenting him. Oliver and William had a very rocky start, but those rocks are the foundation of their relationship today. It’s the reason why Oliver and William know they can start again because they have done it before.

All of William’s pain and suffering has made him into exactly the kind of brother Mia needs now. He understands her anger at Oliver. He also knows that despite her anger and whether she can admit it or not, Mia desperately needs Oliver.

William’s experiences also made him into the kind of son who can guide his father’s hand. William is saying, “Hey. You’ve been here before. Remember? You found the way with me and you can find the way with Mia.”

Felicity would be proud.

This also gives William the opportunity to hash out some remaining issues with his father because things are not all roses with them either. Oliver is still hurt William left to live with his grandparents, because it happened a few months ago. William is the weathered soul in this war and has gained an interesting perspective on the experience.

Oliver: I thought you hated my guts.

William: I hated you for abandoning me.

Oliver: I tried.

William: True, but I wanted you to try harder. Push a little more. I think that’s all any child wants from their parents.

Oliver and Felicity can argue William moving in with his grandparents was the best thing for him at the time, but I refuse to believe anyone is better for him than his parents. William has realized deep down he never wanted his dad and Felicity to let him go. Kids test their parents and this was a particular test William wished his father fought harder.

And I have to agree. I thought it was insane that Oliver and Felicity let William go live with his grandparents. I can’t remember if S7 Jen thought that, but S8 Jen sure does. 

The reality of their living situation hadn’t really changed all that much from when Oliver first became William’s primary care giver.  He was the Green Arrow the entire time. That’s why they hired Raisa. A couple bad guys break into the apartment and they ship the kid off? William is ticked at Oliver for going to prison, so he decides to LEAVE? How does that make sense? And why are we letting the 13 year old call the shots? I honestly couldn’t believe they agreed.

And we all know Oliver and Felicity’s reasoning is faulty because the writing doesn’t make any sense. The worst thing about these flash forwards is William not knowing who Mia is in order to keep the reveal a shock. They really expect us to believe Felicity never comes back for William? Gimme a break. I’m all for surprises, but not at the sake of the story.

The writers are trying to clean up the mess and resolve some of the drama, but it is Oliver and Felicity who unfortunately end up holding the bag. It doesn’t make either of their characters look great, but I can ultimately forgive it as well because it feeds a much larger truth about parents and their children.

Parents – you’re going to screw up.

Kids – you have to decide how much those screw ups will screw you up.

This is why Thea’s words to Oliver last week are so important. He was going to make mistakes whether he stayed with his family or not, but those mistakes do not diminish his love for his children. It all forms who his children will become. And hey – nobody is as messy as Robert and Moira Queen and the Queen siblings turned out okay.

Oliver and Felicity made a mistake by letting William leave. They aren’t perfect parents. Nobody is. The point is to learn, keep trying and fight harder. Ultimately, it’s up to William and Mia to decide whether or not to forgive their parents for being human beings.  Every child must come to terms with the mistakes their parents make, weigh it against their intentions and love, and then decide whether or not to forgive them. This is part of becoming an adult.

Oliver: I’m sorry.

William: It’s ok. Dad, I’m glad that you’re in my life. Then and now.  And Mia will be too.

William chooses to forgive his father. It’s a beautiful and honest moment between father and son. This is exactly the kind of bonding and healing I wanted Oliver to have with his children – a second chance.

Oliver and Mia

Let’s keep in mind the last time Oliver saw Mia she was in her crib, so seeing a fully grown young woman before him requires some adjustment, 

Source: lucyyh 

but Papa Bear rebounds nicely. Stephen Amell mixes pride, confusion, joy and love in this perfectly delivered line.

Source: olivergifs 

In typical Oliver fashion his first question is if the kids are okay. He steps toward Mia to hug her, but she is in complete shock and totally overwhelmed.

Source: olicitygifs 

The barrier between her dead father and her very much alive father is breaking down with the reality of their situation, but Mia cannot accept it yet. Her pain is almost immediate and she steps away from Oliver. A line in the sand is drawn. He can’t come closer. It hurts too much and she’s not ready.  Reminds me of someone.

It hurts Oliver just as much as when Felicity did the same thing. 

Mia should have been wearing The Red Coat of Pain.  

Source: olicitygifs 

Look, if my 34-year-old daughter time traveled from the future to the present it’d be a puzzler for sure, but cool as hell and I’d smush her perfect face in a microsecond. Way to represent Oliver.

Rene and Dinah are extremely confused why Oliver has a daughter and he’s all, “Oh yeah. Cool story.” He’s explaining to Thing 1 and Thing 2, but Oliver is really talking to Mia. He doesn’t take his eyes off her and he shares the story of her birth. SOB.

Source: olicitygifs

I love Diggle’s they-told-me-because-I’m-not-just-anyone look here. Oliver apologizes to Dinah and Rene for finding out about Mia like this and they immediately understand why he lied and have zero problems with it. It’s your basic personality lobotomy because this is the final season (kumbaya) and there’s no time for the newbies to be their usual toddler selves.

Rene wants to know when the kiddos can fill them in on all the 2040 gossip and hey that’s a good point. (Holy hell I’m agreeing with Rene. It’s the end times my friends). Dinah and Rene don’t find out about Mia until twenty years later, so the future has already begun to change. Oliver wants the kids to share all their Back to the Future goodies once they’re comfortable.

Spoiler alert: They’re not comfortable.

Connor tells Mia and William he was about to kill his brother (there’s your confirmation if you were in any way unclear about Connor’s intentions). Mia has zero problems with Connor killing JJ, but is angry he escaped. Yup, this tracks with Mia’s morality since she’s basically Season 1 Oliver. William reminds her that it doesn’t really make a difference now because JJ is five and they can’t Baby Hitler him.

I saw that look Mia Smoak Queen. 

Source: amunetblack 

She decides as team leader they should keep their mouths shut because nobody wants to tell Diggle his biological son goes all evil and kills Rene’s daughter. I mean… yeah… tricky conversation starter. Do you do it over coffee? Vodka. I feel booze could really help the situation a lot.

This means that FTA is going to lie to OTA and William correctly asserts this plan is insane because this is Original Team Arrow. They aren’t dummies. Well sure, now they aren’t but oh kids. Do I have some stories for you.

Oliver takes the kids back to his apartment and Mia gets the first real sense of what it was like for Felicity to live with Oliver. 

Source: olicitygifs

I know Felicity had pictures of Oliver in the cabin, but this is their life before Mia. A life she was not part of yet. My mother once took me to the house she grew up in and the owners allowed us to look around. It was so wonderfully odd to put a place to all the stories I heard growing up, but nothing was like I imagined it.

The shock is wearing off and this is the first moment Mia’s anger bubbles to the surface. This was supposed to be her home, where she grew up with her father, mother and brother. None of that happened because Oliver “disappeared” according to William.

It would seem like a simple answer - wouldn’t it? Felicity took the children to Oliver’s grave. One can naturally conclude this means he is dead, but William says he’s not sure what happened. Y’all, if you are still stressing about Oliver remaining dead after this show goes off air then turn your attention to the Grand Canyon sized back door the Arrow writers just wrote in. They can’t even say he is dead.

Oliver has been pondering his mortality for 12 years, and particularly now, so he absorbs this information extremely well. But the hits keep on coming as William fills him in on the rest – how he didn’t grow up with Mia and never saw Felicity again until 20 years later.

Mia chimes in with a bitter, “Yeah it was just me and Mom at the cabin.” Oliver’s pain when he realizes his “disappearance” is the trigger for his precious family splintering apart is just gut wrenching. 

Source:  feilcityqueen

Yes, he saved their lives, but it was not the life he hoped for any of them.

Oliver wants to catch up on 20 years of history, but Mia’s not looking to hug and cry and learn and grow. The chill when she leaves the room to go to bed let’s Oliver know exactly where he stands with his daughter. She’s freezing him out.

Oliver is worried Mia will never give him the chance to get to know her, but William reassures his father. Mia is stubborn and hard to read. I’d like to add distrustful, moody and impulsive. 

As Oliver’s mini me it’s perfectly acceptable to hold him accountable, which leads to some warm and good-natured ribbing between father and son.

Source: olicitygifs 

Mia reassures Present Team Arrow the Deathstroke gang isn’t a problem in the future after they blow up the hospital. Deathstroke gang? Pfft. Never heard of them. I’d also like to add liar, liar pants on fire to the personality traits Mia shares with her father.

And since they’re on a roll, Mia and William also reassure they are still friends with Zoe and she’s farting sunshine and rainbows.

Source: renesramirez

Ugh. Brutal.

Mia and Connor are convinced JJ is the leader of the Deathstroke gang. William tries to reason with them. He suddenly has a gang and is organized enough to start blowing up buildings within a few hours of arriving from a different time period? When you talk it out it doesn’t make sense. (She says to Last Week Jen who totally though JJ was the leader of the Deathstroke gang in present time too).

They go to the original Deathstroke hideout and discover it’s really Grant Wilson. It’s a nice tie into the Legends of Tomorrow’s “Star City 2046” which is the first time we met the wonderful David-Joseph Jones. 

Present Team Arrow shows up to save their asses and Oliver gets to rescue another Smoak female from a bomb. 

Source: felicitysmoak 

Ah… memories. 

 When all the lies come tumbling out it’s not pretty.

Rene picks Zoe up and plans to work his way through a pint of mint chip with her, which is an extremely valid life choice given the news he’s just received. But could you get the kid some ice cream she actually likes? I agree disliking mint chip is MADNESS, but she’s going to die in twenty years so chocolate it is.

Dinah meets up with Rene and tries to convince him the future can be changed.

Rene: How am I supposed to wake up every morning knowing how many days we have left together?

Dinah: By trying to change what happens. Trying every single day.

Arrow is known for their less than subtle cuts and what immediately follows Dinah’s statement is an argument between Oliver and Mia. 

Source: Paige 

She is unable to sit on the sidelines anymore while the team researches Grant and his Deathstroke gang. Oliver wants to help Mia with her grief, but she can’t even admit her grief let alone desperately needing her father.

What’s so sad about this scene is Oliver is right. He’s been there. He understands exactly what Mia is feeling. All of Oliver’s loss and suffering have made him into the man and father his daughter needs. But Mia won’t let him in and a large part of that is because she’s just like him. It’s like a mirror of himself eight years ago is being reflected back at him.

Oliver and Mia are put their cards on the table. She is right. Parenthood is earned. It is not something that is magically created from biology. Anyone can have a child and call themselves a “parent”, but a real parent puts their child above their own selfish needs and wants.

And that’s what Oliver Queen did. There is no place on earth Oliver wanted to be more than in the cabin with Mia, Felicity (and William) for the last twenty years. If Oliver was a selfish man, he would’ve spent the rest of his days with them and let everyone perish in the Crisis. Oliver was going to die no matter what, so why not hold on to the only peace and happiness he’s ever known? At least they’d be together.

But Oliver could never make that choice because he is selfless. Mia is right – Oliver is a hero, but his need to be recognized as such is not the reason he left her. Oliver wanted Mia, William and Felicity to have the life they deserved – even if it meant one without him. He is willing to die for them.

His decision cost Mia her father, but it was a price Oliver was willing to pay. The only thing more unimaginable to Oliver than missing out on raising Mia is Mia not being part of this world. Oliver put his child’s life above his own because his precious, remarkable, beautiful, strong, and smart Mia is his world.

Do I think Mia is being cruel to Oliver? No. I think she’s being honest. This is how she feels.

Children have a remarkable way of blaming themselves for decisions their parents made. 

Oliver is fighting the good fight like it’s any other day. There must have been something deficient in Mia that made moving on from his daughter so easy.

Source: arrowdaily

Mia may be grown, but she’s still a child in so many ways and particularly when it comes to father. All she can see is the man who chose to leave her. All Mia can feel is what she lost.

We cannot cheapen the depth of her grief by expecting Mia to be okay with her dad dying. Yes, he’s saving the world (and she is in the world), but Oliver didn’t need to save the city or the universe to be Mia’s hero. Nor can she accept the why because the result is the same.

Oliver missed Chrismukkah, trick or treating and birthdays. He missed snuggling on the couch and reading stories. He missed teaching Mia how to tie her shoes, ride a bike, shoot an arrow, defend herself or drive. Oliver missed comforting Mia when she was sad and sick. He missed making her laugh. He doesn’t know when Mia took her first steps, or her favorite food, or the name of her kindergarten teacher, or the grades she got in school, or the first boy who broke her heart. Oliver missed twenty years.

Mia didn’t lose a biological parent. She lost a man who loves her with every cell. Mia lost a man who would’ve shown up for her every day. She lost a man who would’ve protected, taught and loved her unconditionally. Mia Smoak Queen lost her DAD.

She’s supposed to what? Get to know Oliver? Mia’s supposed to accept all the stories Felicity told about her father were real, so the depth of her loss can be driven deeper because now she knows how wonderful he is?

Uhhh… pass. It’s easier for Mia to hate him. Of course, it’s easier.

It wouldn’t be a Queen family reunion without a little physical violence. Mia threatens to throw down with Daddy if he doesn’t get out of her way. Honestly, letting her get a couple good swings in Oliver might be highly therapeutic. I clearly didn’t study psychology, but I’m just here thinking my thoughts.

Oliver must be “some guy in her way” because the alternative, letting her father all the way in only to lose him again, it’s unbearable for Mia at this point.

Source: miasmoakdaily 

Oliver decides to try harder with Mia after William harnesses his light, which means FATHER/DAUGHTER IN THE FIELD TIME! 

Oliver’s protective dad mode is fully activated, but Mia has other plans. She’s about to take Grant Wilson out when Oliver ties him up with an arrow rope. Undeterred, she switches a knife for an arrow and takes aim.

Oliver calls out to Mia in his deep, growly Arrow voice, which gets her attention because it’s scary and it gets everybody’s attention.  IT’S STERN DADDY TIME! YASSS!!!  

Oliver physically steps in front of Grant Wilson because this is road he has gone down and as long as there is breath in his body he will not watch his daughter go down it too. 

This is what is so satisfying about Oliver Queen's story. 

He has learned from his mistakes and can be the hero, and father, his daughter needs now. 

Mia can hate him all she wants, but Oliver will not let her kill anyone.

Mia listens because what she needs more than anything right now is her dad. It’s a real and honest moment between the two where Oliver uses everything he’s learned to help Mia make the right decision. And Mia, whether she can admit it or not, wants to learn from Oliver. He earns being her dad by being her dad.

Stick a fork in me because I AM DONE. Do you know this moment is everything? Because it is EVERYTHING. First, Mia may not let Oliver hug her, but she lets him ask if she’s okay and even answers. This, my friends, is what we call progress. Mia also has to know Oliver’s history and she doesn’t want her father to think she didn’t have the stones to kill someone.

But it’s what Oliver said in return that is so meaningful because he knows after killing someone all that is left are the dark questions that haunt you. Did I do the right thing? What kind of person does this make me?

Of all the terrible holes Oliver had to crawl out of, this was his darkest. This was the secret Oliver feared was true. This lie was so easy to believe because Oliver blamed himself for Robert’s death. What kind of person kills their own father? What kind of person keeps killing? It was so frightening for Oliver to confront that he lost Felicity to avoid it.  Then it was forced out of him only after being tortured for days by Adrian Chase.

Mia would’ve killed Grant Wilson because she thought it was necessary. She believed it would serve the greater good and save lives. But it doesn’t mean Mia would’ve enjoyed killing Grant Wilson. It doesn’t mean she is undeserving of love, unforgivable or irredeemable. It doesn’t mean Mia is a monster.

The questions are already haunting Mia. Oliver can see it in her eyes, but he has the answers for her. Oliver tells his daughter who she is and Mia knows he truly sees her. And her wall starts to come down.

Source: oliverxfelicity

This show began as a story between father and child and, for better or worse; this is where it will always return. Arrow is about family, generational sin and atonement. It will always come back to Robert Queen.

Oliver takes Mia to her grandfather’s grave because this is where the violence, loss and guilt all began. It swallowed Oliver whole for so many years. It was an agonizing hole to climb out of.  He wants Mia and William’s life to be better. Oliver didn’t truly understand his father until after he was dead. He wants it to be different with his children.

Source: oliverxfelicity

Mia’s journey started with the “death” of her father. Just like Robert. Her mother is “gone.”  Just like Moira.  Zoe died protecting Mia. She was the hero Mia was trying so hard to be. Just like Tommy. Mia made a decision and it cost someone their life. Just like Shado.  

And on and on it goes. All that’s left is the crippling guilt of survival.  

All Oliver can offer Mia is the truth.

It’s a truth he’s learned the long, hard and painful way.

“This guy's walking down a street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep, he can't get out. A doctor passes by, and the guy shouts up, "Hey you, can you help me out?" The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a priest comes along, and the guy shouts up "Father, I'm down in this hole, can you help me out?" The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a friend walks by. "Hey Joe, it's me, can you help me out?" And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, "Are you stupid? Now we're both down here." The friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before, and I know the way out." – Leo McGarry, West Wing

Oliver knows the way out of the hole Mia is in because he’s been there before. Her father reaches for his daughter’s hand and she reaches back.  Oliver had to find his light these past eight years, so he could be the light for his children. Hopefully, her father can make Oliver journey a little easier and a little brighter for Mia.  That’s all any parent wants to do for their children.

Source: olivergifs

Oliver makes his world famous Monte Cristo for William. 

He introduces Mia to them the same way Felicity introduced William to these delectable late night snacks. 

Down to the freaking mannerisms. Well done Ben Lewis.

These are the kind of stories Mia heard, but never experienced. These are the moments she and Oliver missed. The moments neither of them thought they’d ever get back.

The wall comes down. Not all the way, but enough. Mia lets her dad make her a snack. And begins their second chance.

Source: olicitygifs

Diggle and Connor

I said last week it’ll be interesting how Diggle reacts to a son he doesn’t even know he’s going to have. Well… it was a lot like this in the beginning.

Ouch. Sorry Connor. In Diggle’s defense this is a mind blower and the kids don’t know when they’ve landed. Connor doesn’t understand why his father can’t recognize him as a son, but Diggle hasn’t adopted him yet. The last time Diggle this child’s perfect face was when he saved Connor and Sandra, his mother.

The whole custody issue is problematic and John has to download a lot of information, with some sobering realizations, to comprehend what happened. Put it this way. If you discovered you have a kid that you didn’t know about it would take more than a few minutes to sink in.

It does eventually sink in, but Diggle and Connor are still a little uncomfortable around each other. Unfortunately, Mama Lyla is unavailable to serve as wing man during the uncomfortable getting-to-know-you phase. Diggle offers a very sweet, “We always wanted a brother for JJ.” HOW ABOUT A SISTER? (side eyes Barry Allen).

Connor responds to Diggle’s attempt at bonding by lying through his teeth about JJ. Sure, Dad we’re best friends. No Diggle brother curse in the future? Noooope.

Although, from Connor’s perspective, John’s remark could be taken from a slightly different slant. Diggle’s first real moment of warmth was connected to JJ, his biological son. The son he has a relationship with already. John is leaning into what he knows as he navigates this new relationship - not unlike what Oliver is doing with William and Mia.

But John must look at Connor through a JJ lens in order to act paternal towards him. Diggle didn’t do anything wrong and he certainly didn’t mean anything by it, but this doesn’t put Connor at ease. Particularly since he almost murdered the only son Diggle knows and loves. It’s easy to see why he’s keeping that information close to the chest.

Dinah hears through the door Connor calling Grant Wilson JJ, which is a pretty weak plot point, but it gets us where we need to go. Connor tries to cover his lies by telling Dinah she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but we get a very stern Papa Diggle in response.

John: Then you tell me Connor.

This is the first glimpse we’ve seen of John being the firm disciplinarian who holds his sons accountable for each other’s actions. It was hard to imagine Diggle this way when JJ and Connor were reminiscing about their childhoods, but David Ramsey made me believe it in one line.

This is the father Connor knows. Nothing like a little parental authority to make a kid crumble like dominoes. He comes clean and we get a little history too. Grant Wilson did bring the Deathstroke gang to Star City, but JJ eventually inherits the leadership position and is the craziest of all the cray.

Rene is understandably heartbroken over Zoe, in a rage over JJ, and a little pissed off at John. I’m always uncomfortable when this show makes me sympathize with any member of NTA, but here we are, nonetheless. 

Diggle just found out his son is a murdering psychopath, so it hasn’t been a great day for him either. However, it seems Diggle is the only one who watched Back to the Future and believes this horror show we affectionately call the Flash Forwards can change. It could even be the reason why the Monitor sent the children to the present. Jesus, let it be true.

The writers wouldn’t have brought it up if they weren’t going to change some things about the future. I still don’t think we’ll avert the twenty-year separation. (Can the writing gods be that kind?) But Present Team Arrow will help Future Team Arrow become better heroes. Zoe will survive and JJ, by not killing Zoe, will become a redeemable villain. I’m sure some other stuff will change too, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Connor: It was like I stole the love that should have been his.

UGH. Kiddo that is so not how parenting works. Connor is overwhelmed with guilt over JJ and completely blames himself for his actions. It’s not difficult to understand why he feels this way. This is how John raised them. When one brother did something wrong the other was held accountable. But now Connor and JJ are flipped from their childhood. The “good brother” became the “bad brother” and vice versus.

Diggle: What do you want me to say?

Oof. 

This is not Diggle’s best parenting moment, but let’s juts call a spade a spade. The reason why Diggle is not acting like a father to Connor is because he doesn’t feel like his father. John and Lyla haven’t adopted Connor yet. Diggle doesn’t know him. The stranger standing before him now has lied from minute one about the only son he does know.

He has a nice heart to heart with Dinah once he’s calmed down. It took John all of 5 seconds to draw the Andy comparisons, so he’s just piling one guilt on top of another and blaming himself. Hmm… I wonder if that’s where Connor gets it from?

Dinah: Knowing what’s happened can either destroy us or save us. We’ve seen our worst. Now let’s be our best.

Damn. This is a seriously great speech. Holy crap I enjoyed a Dinah moment. I can’t remember the last time that happened. 

If you think this series is ending with the future destroyed and everyone being their worst then I’ve taught you nothing. Follow the yellow brick road. We’re almost home.

Diggle can finally see through his anger and pain when he watches Connor at his best. John can finally see who Connor is when he defuses the bomb.He sees Connor’s intelligence, composure selflessness and bravery. Diggle sees his son. And Connor is everything Diggle dreamed a son could be.

Diggle: You read to go home?

Connor: You don’t have to do that. I don’t want to be a reminder of everything bad that happened to JJ and to your family.

Source: Paige 

It’s everything Connor needed to hear and more. Father and son find their way to forgiveness and it’s a path to a second chance.  

And because Arrow loves us this means shirtless father/son training session. Well, half shirtless. This is the content I am here to see.

Source: Paige

L*urel L*nce

L*urel goes with Mia on recon so she doesn’t slug her dad in the face. She also knows Mia is going to kill Grant Wilson.

L*urel: Clearly no one has informed you that I used to play for team villain. And I can spot a murderous intent a million miles away.

Is L*urel’s background and history being used for a plot point in a way that makes total and absolute sense? The mind reels at the possibility.

Mia’s reasoning for killing Grant Wilson is sound. They tried locking him up in the future, but he always escapes which helps earn his cult status and JJ’s admiration. Mia believes if she kills Grant Wilson then Zoe will live. The guilt she feels over Zoe’s death is too much to bear. She will do absolutely anything to fix it – even if it costs Mia her soul.

Damn… I wonder where I’ve heard this story before.

L*urel knows a thing or two about vengeance and tries to reach Mia by explaining how Felicity was once in a similar position. L*urel talked her out of killing Ricardo Diaz and SAVED THE DAY!

I’m not gonna say anything. It’s fine. Inaccuracies happen all the time in this show. I can let this go

No, I can’t let this go. 

This isn’t exactly how things went down with L*urel, Felicity and Diaz. Yes, L*urel gave Felicity a similar “once you let the darkness in it never comes out” speech in early Season 7. However, she wasn’t overly vexed about Felicity doing some violence. In fact, she was damn near proud of her every time Felicity crossed a line. And L*urel was right there with her. when she did.

Nor was L*urel the reason Felicity didn’t kill Diaz. The first time she pointed a gun at Diaz was when she finally captured him. Felicity was about to pull the trigger when Laurel came in and said she made a deal with the Feds. Oliver would be released from prison if he helped the FBI with their case against Diaz. Yes, L*urel told Felicity she didn’t want to kill Diaz, but she was not the reason Felicity put that gun down. Oliver was.

The second and final time Felicity threatened to kill Diaz she convinced herself. Felicity realized he was no longer a threat. She decides not to kill Diaz because she’s stronger than him. Felicity Smoak is a BAMF and nobody gets to take this moment from her.

I’m not saying L*urel doesn’t deserve any credit. She does, but in typical arrogant BC form she beats the self-congratulatory drum too loud and makes herself the sole savior of Felicity Smoak. No, honey. Not even close.

It’s also frustrating because I wish it was Felicity telling this story to her daughter and not LL. Just one of the many “It sucks that Emily wasn’t in the episode” moments. 

Source: dcladies

At least L*urel recognizes Felicity and Mia are not “women who allow themselves to be talked out of anything.” But this statement negates the “Because I talked her out of it” nonsense she was spewing 15 seconds earlier. Sigh. So close yet so far.

Can we just have one episode where this character makes total and absolute sense? Just one episode we hit on all L*urel cylinders. An episode she feels relevant, doesn’t act like a judgmental, hypocritical, ungrateful asshole, and her history isn’t blatantly ignored for the sake of plot contrivance, and doesn’t contradict herself every five seconds? It would just be nice.

 Stray Thoughts

Nothing makes me sadder than the director choosing a more toned-down delivery of Ben Lewis’, “Excuse me what year is it?” than the one in the promo because the line in the promo was hysterical.

Dinah wonders why The Monitor didn’t bring L*urel back to Star City too - once again highlighting how annoyed The Monitor is she’s still alive and how inconsequential she is to any of his plans. Snort.

To be fair, (because I am for neutral reporting here and Something To Live For) Rene wonders why The Monitor didn’t bring Zoe and JJ back. He probably would have if she wasn’t dead and JJ wasn’t evil.

Connor’s, “Hey are you okay?” to Mia was so soft and nearly identical in tone to whenever Oliver says “Hey” to Felicity, which this means he wants all the babies with her. That’s the maths.

Did they blow up the doctor?

Oliver bragging William is a billionaire to Rene was the cutest to ever cute.

“You’d be proud.” William’s emotional double meaning requires beaucoup de tissues. Yeah, I’m tossing some French you’re way. Gotta keep things fresh.

“Ugh. Curtis. I did not miss you. Not even a little bit.” From my notes watching live.

I feel like this Councilman Rene thing kind of came out of nowhere in the present time, but I’m not actually invested in it so whatever.

“I cannot believe that is your son. I can however definitely believe that is your daughter.” Okay, this was funny and only made funnier by Oliver’s annoyance. Curtis is there for a hot minute and already bugging him. Dude so much same.

Yes, canaries are plural Dinah. Nobody is happy about it.

The Canary set up for the spin off was LAME.

Connor: There’s a Canary network in the future.

Dinah & L*urel: Let’s eat French fries dipped in milkshakes (trademark LL bonding) and create a Canary network.

Soooo… killing Vinny isn’t a thing anymore? When did that not become a thing? Dinah and L*urel have barely spoke this season and now they are besties? I see shoehorning canaries into plot because of contractual obligations will continue in the spin off. Yippee.

“At least we didn’t die.” Oliver Jonas Queen, God gave you a daughter just like you because He is a just and fair God.

I cannot call it Original Team Arrow because they are missing an original member so it’s Present Team Arrow until Felicity’s return.

“I’m not exactly a big fan of your father’s. He’s kind of a dick.” Should’ve let her fry, Oliver.

“John, we’re good. You too, Connor. I can’t be mad at either of you for something I will never let happen.” WHY ARE ALL THE CHARACTERS MAKING SENSE AND SAYING THINGS I LOVE? I’M SCARED HOLD ME.

I am Oliver. My twenty-something friends are William. LOL Source:  felicitysmoak

How has Mia not watched The Shawshank Redemption?

"Mom really liked playing fast and loose with the fourth amendment huh?" WILLIAM’S. BEST. LINE. EVER.

They brought in Curtis to usurp William's skills. Yup, he really is Felicity 2.0.

Has Mia been wearing a Green Arrow suit the whole season and I never noticed or was she just in really great leather this week? I can’t tell on my TV screen.

OMG this moment gave me LIFE. I will be abusing that gif of William. Source:  arrowdaily

If Connor learned what an intervalometer bomb is from John then did John learn it from Connor? Wrap your noodle around that time travel mind bender.

Mia’s hair was so extra this week. Source:  miasmoakdaily

All I wanted this entire episode was for Mia, William and Oliver to bake cookies. So I will take payment in the form of Monte Cristos. I’m getting my way a lot this season, so I would also like to ask the Arrow writers for a million dollars. Thanks a bunch.

“Or we make our own hope.” Deathstrokes are off the board for the time being.  The future is getting a second chance too. You can’t hear me but I’m singing the times they are a-changin’

A very special thanks to Muriel for editing all the gifs. You are a live saver and I am so grateful for your help!

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 8x04 gifs credited.

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

[martenvankammen]

A different way of life

Rarely I awaken without finding myself drenched in a cold sweat. Remnants of the past returning to haunt me, following my days within the Imperial Guard. Such horrific memories of war and bloodshed ingrained within my mind that it seems impossible to escape them. I would wager even the most stoic individual would be left with a foul taste upon their tongue at the mere thought of such dreadful sights.

Nothing seems to allow refuge from these dreams with each night a different memory taking hold of my psyche and tormenting me throughout the night. They are so lifelike, that I barely consider them dreams anymore but instead punishment for all I have inflicted upon others. That it simply had become my turn to suffer.

 Yet despite being plagued by memories of my former duties, I am now anything but a soldier. Though I remember little of how that part of my life had ended. All I do know is that it was abrupt and brutal. Beyond that it’s all a blur no matter how hard I try to recall.

Now I have a different vocation to fill my days. Instead of cleansing distant worlds of the Imperium’s foes I now do a cleansing of a different sort. Cleaning floors and workshops within my new place of employ. If you could call it employment at least.

Regardless of the lacklustre nature of this work I am thankful for it. I have learned very early on that within this place there are far worse fates one could be subjected to. One could even say I’m thankful for the position.

 My beloved wife on the other hand had been granted a more prestigious role among the workers. A position at our employers’ side as an assistant of sorts.

Because of this I am often granted the pleasure of seeing her on the odd occasion. Whenever our employer visits one of the workshops.

That brief sight of her always refills my heart with the strength to continue onward with my work. Although I’m sure anyone would feel renewed if they saw my wife’s beautiful smile.

Honestly, I’m not sure how else I would continue. While I’ve grown accustomed to the hours to some degree, we are always short staffed and the burden of shouldering that will always fall to those that remain. Seeing that wonderful smile however allows me to persevere despite it.

But, I suppose its to be expected to have a constant shortage of workers around here. The level of skill expected of the workers here is rather outrageous with little to no reward in return.

Then again what choice do they have? What choice do I have?

Thus, I simply work the days away with a continuous zeal that was expected from me during my days within the Imperial Guard. All in order to make sure I can witness that smile another day.

 Yet today there was no smile to soothe me, as my wife was absent at our employer’s side.

I had considered asking where she was out of curiosity but thankfully stopped myself from doing so.

Anyone that works here quickly learns that it’s better not to bother the higher ups with mundane questions and it would be dreadful to get my beloved into trouble because of a little curiosity.

While I worked my way through the halls however something had caught my eye. Something that wasn’t there before on a particular wall. It was shocking to say the least and I had found my answer to my wife’s absence.

There she was, framed for all eternity with the very smile that was so endearing to me. It would seem the mistress of this place had chosen her to added to this wall filled with the faces of employees.

Before I knew it tears flowed freely across my cheeks. I was overwhelmed with emotion, wondering if I’d ever be added to it myself.

Unfortunately, I could not linger any longer. Idle hands are frowned upon by my employer and it did not take long for someone to call upon me to clean a mess. A particular mess in a workshop I wished they had left for someone else to clean.

 Another day had passed without witnessing my beloved’s smile.

When my employer wandered passed me in the hall, I couldn’t help but expect my wife in tow yet no one followed. It surprised me how much the lack of her presence affected me. To the point where I had caught myself staring blankly into nothingness during my duties. A nasty habit I could ill afford.

Anxiety was taking hold of me merely thinking about the entire situation. Fearing that it would ultimately cost me my position here.

So, in a bid to alleviate the fears that weighted my heart I found myself back at the wall my wife’s visage was placed. Just to get a glimpse of her.

I couldn’t help but ponder on how strange it may have looked to the other workers in passing. But in the end, I cared little anymore. It was the only way to cull the pressure which had taken hold of me. And soon I found myself at that wall every day, looking at the smile of my beloved.

Yet it held nothing compared to the genuine thing. This framed smile felt hollow despite its perfection.

Still, I felt drawn to it. The hollow smile was enough to sustain my resolve and soothed the weight which had been brought on by my wife’s absence.

 Soon days had turned to weeks and without even realizing a month had passed with my wife absent eventually turning my quirky routine into a dependence I could no longer bear without. Today was no different of course. I had slinked away from my duties to meet with my beloved’s eternal smile.

“She is such a lovely addition is she not?” A whisper in my ear from someone I had not noticed until the very first tone reverberated into my ear. My heart skipped a beat and my body felt frozen in time.

That sultry voice was familiar to me. It was a voice I had heard countless times before but never had it struck so much fear into my very being. There was no need see who had uttered those words to me in such a manner because it could only be one individual.

She was the one who had placed my wife’s face upon that wall. But despite her words. Her focus was not on me in the slightest. instead, she was enamoured with her own creation.

“So many wonderful emotions captured for all eternity. Each emotion a perfect representation of what they stand for. Allowing anyone to savour them whenever they wish. Do you agree?” I found myself nodding without even realizing, my body no longer my own. Fear had overtaken it and forced me into submission. Her voice devoid of any malice or threats had already reduced me into such a state. No, her mere presence already accomplished that on its own.

“This is the one you covet so dearly is it not? Tell me, have I captured her smile perfectly?” My stomach churned when she asked that question, knowing she did not care in the slightest for my answer. Her cruel smile left no doubt regarding that facade.

Never had I witnessed such a venomous expression during all my years. My instincts shouted at me over and over, telling me that this Drukhari woman beside me was simply a predator waiting for the signal to devour me. Yet I knew staying silent would grant me a fate far worse.

 “Yes, my mistress. There is nothing quite as beautiful as her smile.” I hadn’t cried since that first time I saw my beloved’s face among the others on that wall. But to confirm the atrocity this wretched woman had inflicted upon her as beautiful, tore my very soul apart.

But I had spoken the truth on the matter. Nothing could compare to the beauty that was my wife and it pained me knowing her very soul was bound in that wall for all eternity. Forcing to smile in the same way she comforted me in this hellish place. This monster had twisted it and perverted that smile and all I could do was to selfishly use it to keep myself sane.

My self-loathing however was interrupted by another question from this serpent disguised as a Drukhari woman.

“Do you hate me for what I did to her Mon’keigh? Despise me for it? Or do you find my work as tantalizing as I do?” Despise? Hate? Those words felt lacking to what I felt for this monster who had done unspeakable things to my beloved. And here she was taunting me about it, expecting something from me. Yet then I came to a realization. Why haven’t I struck her? Killed her? I should be at this woman’s throat yet here I am frozen in fear.

In the corner of my eye however, I found my answer. This monster was gleefully enjoying every moment of my turmoil. As if she was feeding of the suffering that enveloped me in this very moment.

Why can I not attack her? All I want right now is to rip her throat out and take vengeance for the love of my life yet any desire to do so is snuffed out each time!

“You still have not realized have you Mon’keigh?” My eyes widened at the realization of it all. She knew exactly what thoughts were gripping me so tightly beyond her mere presence.

“Why can’t I harm you?” Not the words my mind had conjured yet it was all that could escape my lips

“Because I took it away from you, just like I took this smiling creature before us away from you.” How could I be so foolish to think this nightmarish place couldn’t take anything they wanted. The fool I was.

She had castrated my ability to exact any aggression upon her. Leaving it to fester within my mind for as long as possible. But why? I can’t fathom why one would do such a thing just for the sake of it.

It was a question only she held the answer too.

All I knew she was savouring every moment of it. No, that was an understatement.

The suffering I had endured was a pleasure to be savoured in her eyes.

 Sorrow, anger, confusion and fear mixed into a delicate cocktail for her own consumption. It was in this moment that I knew why she was called an artisan among her people.

When I finally snapped back to reality she was gone and I hadn’t even realized. It felt like hours had gone by leaving me there in a daze once that monster had been sated by my grief.

My beloved was still there eternally smiling upon me even in this pathetic state even though deep down I knew she would be disappointed in me.

No, that would be an insult to her very being. She would have understood and comforted me.

I miss her…

My heart can take only so much yet I fear I cannot even take my own life anymore. Is it even my own life anymore?

I should return to my duties for now. There are far worse fates in store for those who do not work.

[fistsoflightning]

prompt #22: by my side, at my back

Alisaie runs forward, her weapon at the ready, and Alphinaud is right behind her.

the only enemy i couldn’t dare think living without; you.

here’s the ao3 link!

((prompt #22: free day; i chose ‘siblings’))  [patch 4.3 and SHB spoilers!]

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Alphinaud makes some less than ideal choices a lot of the time, but this. This is too much. Leaving to go across the Burn into Garlean territory? Already insanely dangerous. Going to Garlemald’s capital? Even worse, but…

Alisaie can’t say in good faith that she wouldn’t do the same. She may not be as ready a politician as her brother, but any chance to see the inner workings of their enemy would be a chance to jump at.

“Go then. You’ve obviously made up your mind,” she sighs out. If he is half as stubborn as she is normally, then he will not budge a single inch on this. “Just try not to do anything reckless, alright? I don’t wish to have a repeat of Specula Imperatoris on my hands.”

Alphinaud’s eyes pinch when she mentions that incident where the tower had fallen with him in it. Of course he would; he’d been in bed for several suns afterwards! “I shall be on my best behavior. Farewell, my friends.”

And off he goes, Alisaie thinks, watching as the Pilus leads him to the airship landing of Castrum Fluminis.

“Come back safe,” she prays to no one in particular.

The next time they meet and properly speak to each other, it’s been a year on Alphinaud’s side and a month on hers.

“Alisaie! You’re here,” he exclaims from the hallway of the Caternaries. The Exarch had led her here, stating that her twin was in room… whatever he said. She had quite literally been too mad to listen to the man once he explained himself thoroughly enough.

As much as she would like to return his excited tone, there is one problem. “Alphinaud, you fool! There are people sleeping right now!”

“Ah,” Alphinaud’s smile drops into a disgruntled frown. “I am still not accustomed to the whole time thing.”

That is the forgetful brother she still knows! It takes most of her restraint to swallow a laugh as bright as the sky as she strides over to him, mouth curved into a soft smile.

“So, how long have you been here? I don’t know about you, but it feels like a month since we last saw each other,” she says. Alphinaud gets this devilish glint in his eye that he always gets when he has a plan.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he starts, smirk slowly taking over his pouty frown. “I think it’s been a good year or so since we last talked.”

Alisaie shrieks a little and wakes up the man in room 807.

“Another self-important little brat. Just what we need,” Alisaie remarks as Zaya lets their faerie friend—Feo Ul, if her sign language was still up to par—spin around their head. Red and orange as they may be compared to their other faerie friends, she still can’t find it in her to even respect them.

“Hmm,” Alphinaud walks up behind her, eyes also watching Feo Ul stomp the air angrily in front of Zaya. “Reminds me of my childhood.”

Did he just…?

Alisaie slowly turns her head towards her brother, eyes pinched and eyebrow twitching. He can’t have just… oh, but he totally did, the little bugger. She hears Minfilia gasp from behind her, but she frankly can’t be bothered enough to care about possible remarks from Thancred when she grabs her brother’s collar and tugs hard.

Hopefully Zaya does not hear Alphinaud’s weak ‘It was a joke!’ from where they stand, otherwise she may have to face Syhrwyda’s wrath later today.

The world is ending below them, one miniature comet at a time. Red and orange spot the green landscape with ugly burns as more and more conjured rocks fly at the representation of the complete world made by Emet-Selch in his grief. As Zaya pushes on alongside Ryne, Urianger, and Thancred—of course it would be him right by their side, as it should—Alisaie can’t help but think how the monstrosities the Ascian has created are less horrifying than the literal end of the world he puts on display below their feet.

“Alisaie, focus,” Alphinaud taps on her shoulder, looking worried like she’s never seen him before. “Although, it is rather horrific, isn’t it.”

They both look off the edge of the cobalt blue platform they stand upon to watch a few more falling stars crash into the skyline, fire flaring back up into the atmosphere. Was this what the Calamity looked like to Grandfather as he flew into the skies?

“We need to end this,” Alisaie murmurs. “Before he tries again to make his world come back by ending ours.”

He nods, hand resting on her shoulder, still looking off the edge as a few chimerical creatures fly by. Their faces give her the shivers, but what’s worse is the comically huge one awaiting them when they catch up to Zaya. It looks like a gods forsaken Gold Saucer machine!

“Slots, anyone? I’d rather not,” Alphinaud mumbles under his breath, and Alisaie can’t help but snort at his quip while he turns just a bit red in the face.

Thank the Twelve Thancred does not hear as he jumps forward, beginning the battle for the end. If he faltered halfway, they might’ve had a hell of a time getting him to recover as someone distracted the slot machine of a creature.

Alisaie runs forward, her weapon at the ready, and Alphinaud is right behind her. There are no words needed to understand just exactly how Alphinaud wants to stay close to her as they fight this monster of Emet-Selch’s mind, the platform crumbling underfoot and laser beams searing hairs from his braid.

This enemy is great, she thinks, but there is no enemy I cannot defeat.

Then Alphinaud sends out his Obsidian Carbuncle as Zaya trips over their feet, and Alisaie amends that thought.

The only one she could never bear to defeat is her brother.

[shadowtearling]

NOVEMBER 2018 — This was a reeeeeaaallllyy good month, quantity- and quality- wise. I found myself genuinely enjoying the books I was reading, which is a relief after a shit year thus far tbh. It’s like I remembered to have feelings! Wow! I’m human. Also a crybaby. So many tissues...

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman

I was so nervous going into this because it’s so beloved, and nothing sucks more than being disappointed by a widely loved book like this (plus I already told myself I was never going to touch this series LOL @ past me, you fool). The first quarter was difficult to get into because there’s just so much information withheld from the reader, and, at one point, I started to become frustrated, feeling like an idiot for not knowing what the hell was going on. As the book went on, I found myself just wholly engrossed in Lyra’s character that not knowing became a secondary priority. It didn’t matter anymore that I knew absolutely nothing as long as I was on this journey to finding out with someone as witty, clever, and kind-hearted as Lyra. I was rooting for her the whole way through and was genuinely panicking when she was in danger. The second half is definitely much better than the first just because it feels less like fumbling around in the dark. Her parents are freaks. Bear dad for the win. Also, that ending... how she just gonna do That? girl.. Gonna try to read the rest of the series whenever that happens lol

My Plain Jane by The Lady Janies (Cynthia Hand, Brodi Ashton, Jodi Meadows)

This was so. much. fun. I was reading this at a Barnes and Noble, while sat near this group of old men (who don’t know each other) talking about who knows what, and laughing out loud every few pages. (One of them finally got fed up after a few minutes and asked me what I was reading—I was literally holding the cover up, but I digress—and I struggled to explain that this is a Jane Eyre retelling full of nagging ghosts. How can such a Serious Novel™ possibly have a laugh-out-loud retelling? It works (but only because they throw every single fact out the window). If you really love Jane Eyre and Charlotte Brontë, this may not be the book for you. They mischaracterize both women, and while I didn’t mind, others might. This is also a pretty straightforward retelling of the novel in that the very basic structure is there, but I found that I kept turning the page because I wanted to know how exactly they would deviate from the original storyline. I really wasn’t disappointed. I especially love the Rochester shade. :)

It’s Not Like It’s a Secret by Misa Sigiura

It’s not like it’s a secret that I don’t like this book. I really just talked this to death. The first half was going okay, but Sana, the main character, was really bland and had no real passion or interest that gave her character dimension. Oh, and there’s a million cheating plotlines that were resolved terribly. Find you a better book. Read my lengthy review (in which spoilers are involved).

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik

I didn’t mean to love this as much as I do. I was scared about it at first, wondering if I’ll love it more or less than Uprooted and terrified that either outcome would be true. Thankfully, I love this differently to its predecessor. I think Uprooted is just so special to me in a way where I felt like it was the only companion I was afforded when I had no one else. I read that book during a really terrible time in my life lol. But this one reminded me why I love reading, after a whole year of feeling terrible that I couldn’t find it in me to give a shit about any of the books I was picking up. It’s the perfect atmospheric book, and I definitely picked it up at the right time, with the cold just beginning to settle into my bones. I fell in love with Miryem and Irina, and it makes sense because they’re mirrors of each other. What I love most, probably besides the ending, is how none of the characters are willing participants of their fairy tale, but they’re clever enough to know how to work the system so they at least survive it. And survive they did. I also loved how every perspective felt distinctly different from the last that I never found myself wondering from who I was reading. One more thing, Mirnatius is very dear to my heart. (His character, though, is questionable because he’s the only dark skinned person in the story, and he’s also literally the devil. I don’t know how to process that because I know he’s also seen later on as a victim, but like.... still... lol)

REREAD! We Are Okay by Nina LaCour

I love this book a lot. I was feeling all sorts of feelings, and I wanted to let some of that emotion out. I still think this handles grief and loneliness so well. I think because I’m in a different place than I was when I first read this, especially regarding to those two things, my reaction and takeaway is extremely different. First read, I was mostly dealing with the suffocating weight of loneliness. Now, I picked this up specifically because I’m grieving, differently from Marin, but nonetheless grieving. Who knows, maybe when I read this again in the future, I’ll once again be in a different place and I get something completely different from the first two times. This book is great for any occasion, though. If you want a good cry, for whatever reason, this is It.

The Beast is an Animal by Peternelle van Arsdale 

I enjoyed this book, but I doubt this is something I’ll remember a year from now. I liked the writing, simple but compelling. I thought that Alys’s apathy was done really well. I was caught off guard and cried a little (I’m sensitive, Aubrey), but I love that. This is a really slow book, with a whole lot of nothing happening. I like books like that, especially because this made up for its slowness with the atmosphere. My problem is that the ending was rushed, and it became extremely obvious that Alys was not a character who does things; rather, things happen To Her. The other issue is the love interest/story: I don’t mind insta-love as long as we see relationship growth within the novel. Because of time jumps, we almost never see the two have moments together that weren’t for the sake of the plot. It was hard to believe, then, that devotion they had for each other when they barely interacted on the page. It’s Average.

Hello, Universe by Erin Entrada Kelly

I tried talking about this twice, and twice I cried. I’m really just the snot machine this month, huh? Okay but seriously, I am genuinely so thankful to Kelly for writing Filipino characters in her books. I am a whole ass adult crying about representation in a middle grade novel because that’s how much I needed it. Much like The Land of Forgotten Girls, there’s not really a plot. This is more character-driven, filled with stories of everyday magic and the power of friendship. My favorite part is Virgil’s relationship with his grandmother that reflected my relationship with my grandmother, even though the two ladies are vastly different from one another. ALSO, if you’d like a book with a really wonderful deaf/HoH rep, this is your friend. Valencia was a delightful character to read from.

Ajax Penumbra, 1969 by Robin Sloan

Forgettable but fun! I like learning about Mr. Penumbra’s origin story, and I would be glad to read more of him were there more. This was too short, imo, because Sloan introduced some interesting new things to this world that had great potential (particularly the bookstore and its previous storerunners) and weren’t given enough time to fully develop. As with the book, I really won’t remember this by the time the new year rolls around. It was fun while it lasted.

[imaginedmelody]

I think I’m finally ready to try and write my “The Magicians” season finale reaction post.

I’ve been collecting my thoughts on this for the last almost-week, because I knew that this post would be a difficult one; it’s hard to sort through all the opinions and feelings and put them down in a way that makes sense. I’ll try to hit on my major takeaways under the readmore. Bear in mind that my reaction is mixed. Conflicted is the word I’ve been using. I really sympathize with the pain that much of the fandom is feeling, even if I don’t feel it on a level that’s the same (or perhaps comparable) to theirs. I’ll try to dig into that in this post a bit.

I’m a new viewer to this show, as I’ve said many times before. I tried to watch it two years ago, and found it confusing in that I felt like it failed to resonate with me even though I still felt strangely drawn to it. I would watch an episode, feel unsatisfied and only barely interested, but then the next day I would feel oddly compelled to watch the next one. After about 5 episodes of season 1, I gave up. I picked it back up again about 9 weeks ago; I guess I was one of the many viewers who came along because of 4x05, although I didn’t realize that was why I was pulled back in- I just started seeing more and more about the show on my social media again, and it was enough to make me want to give it another try.

This time, I was hooked. I marathon-watched the whole show in probably 4-5 weeks and loved almost every moment (except for a couple of the really distressingly disturbing ones). I was so moved by 3x05, “A Life in the Day,” that I wrote this post about how the show felt like a missing piece had slotted into place at the end of that episode; like a photo that you don’t realize is slightly out of focus until someone adjusts the resolution and it just resolves. I got caught up enough to livetweet somewhere around episode 7 or 8 of season 4, and have been enjoying my integration into the fandom, although I’m still very peripherally a part of it.

I say all this because, as a new viewer, the fallout of 4x13 has been...confusing. Not confusing as in “I don’t understand why this is happening,” but in the sense that the fandom’s collective grief can feel kind of alienating to new viewers. That’s not intentional on the part of seasoned fans, and it’s not something that anyone should feel responsible for or obligated to change. It’s just difficult because we have only just invested in the show. We may be devastated at the loss of Quentin, many of us for the same reasons longtime viewers are (the loss of queer representation, for instance, or the way it seemed to counteract the positive development of a mentally ill character). But at the same time, a lot of us are more positive overall, even if we think killing off that character was a bad choice. We’re still kind of wrapped up in our enthusiasm, so that our grief just feels like another strong emotion we’re feeling, rather than a betrayal. And it can be awkward because we don’t want to express that too boldly or strongly, because we don’t want to appear to be trivializing the grief of other fans. I think that’s an unfair position that the show, not the fans, puts us in. We’re already new to the community, and now we feel less engaged in what is very much a communal emotional response. Positivity feels like rubbing salt in other fans’ wounds. So we’re not sure where we stand.

I was in shock when the show killed off Quentin. Like most viewers, I couldn’t believe it. I waited for them to find a way to reverse it. It was like a hole forming in my heart when they didn’t. I mentioned on twitter later that night that I cry all the time when I watch TV and movies- literally, if something is in any way beautiful, or sad, or exciting, or happy, I’m getting teary-eyed. But once the credits roll and the story is done, my emotional response is usually finished too. If I’m gonna react to it in any other way, it’ll be intellectual (through meta or fanfic) rather than emotional.

But when this episode ended, I finished my cup of tea, went upstairs, and got in the shower. And all of a sudden, before I even knew it, I was crying. It had been 15 minutes since the episode ended and I was still emotional enough to cry. Since then, because I’m a glutton for emotion who likes to lean into anything that makes me feel strongly, I’ve rewatched the episode once and the “Take On Me” scene like eight times- and every single time I’ve cried, even if it’s just a little. It touches some raw emotional place in me that very few shows get to. And I think I’m in awe of that as much as I’m in pain because of it.

I never quite got to the outrage that other fans did, though. That could be for a number of reasons- less prolonged attachment as a new viewer (although I feel very attached to the show and characters); greater privilege to not feel personally attacked by the loss; just having more emotional energy to engage with the scene. But I felt simultaneously anguished and energized by the episode, including the death. It broke my heart, but it also pulled me in. It’s very confusing. I’m angry at how things increasingly seem to have been mishandled, and I’m disappointed at the fallout this has for the show and the fans, and I’m in disagreement with the validity of the choice. But I still feel engaged and almost excited by it. That’s a hard balance to reconcile.

It really does seem to me like the writers dropped the ball. The fact that they knew they were killing Quentin off bothers me, but actually, the thing that I find most galling is that the other actors weren’t in on the plan. We have it on good authority that they filmed a fake scene, where presumably Q comes back somehow, and all the actors were led to believe that was what was in the episode until two days before the finale, when they were told the truth for the first time. My question is: why? Did they not trust the actors to keep the secret? I can kind of understand faking out the audience, but why play that mind game with your actors, who are part of the creative team and should know what’s going on? Why deprive them of the chance to say goodbye to Jason Ralph as a fellow cast member? So far, in every interview, no one has really explained what the point of that fakeout was. If I was an actor on the show, I’d feel really upset about that.

The other thing that’s really been grinding my gears is something that I saw mentioned in comments before I ever saw it in context in the article (and thank you to everyone who helped me find the source). It’s a quote from John McNamara, one of the showrunners, from an article in the Hollywood Reporter, in which he says this about the decision to kill off Q:

“... in a way, I'm not sure what we would have done with the character had he lived.”

I took issue with that statement for two reasons. The first is from a writing craft perspective. I understand wanting to take risks and shake up expectations, and I understand that “kill someone off” is common writing advice when you get stuck in a project. But it’s my firm belief that the main character (and even on an ensemble show like this, yes, there is a clear lead character) should pretty much always be safe. Because the premise of the show is structured in some essential way around him; that’s why he’s the lead. And that’s why almost every show that gets rid of its main character, either by recasting or just removing and replacing with other characters, goes downhill in quality- because that original character was integral to the story.

I’ve said before that literally the only story I can think of that is better for having killed off its protagonist is friggin’ Julius Caesar. When I teach that play, we discuss at that moment in Act 3- and then again at the end of the play- what it means for the narrative if your title character dies halfway through his story. What it means that Marc Antony is the lead for the rest of the play. How Caesar is still so central to the plot even though he’s dead. Part of the reason this doesn’t work on TV- the reason the plot can’t still centralize the character they killed in the narrative- is because a play is a single self-contained entity that you consume all at once, and a TV series is, well, serialized. The show can’t keep centering a character who’s no longer present, because it wouldn’t resonate in a long-form narrative that you consume in small installments. That’s why shows that kill off characters don’t keep bringing them up. They throw in a couple of heartfelt moments that directly or indirectly reference the character, and then they move on and you’re supposed to let them go. A protagonist has to live to keep being important to the story.

So I am of the firm belief that if your main character has outlived his usefulness, the problem is with your narrative as a whole, not with that particular character. If you can’t think of anywhere meaningful for that character to go, you don’t need to kill him off- you need to restructure your whole story so that it’s responsive to him again. It doesn’t have to revolve around him all the time- the show has frequently centered around other characters prominently and effectively, and Q doesn’t have to be in the spotlight all the time- but if he’s no longer relevant? Your whole story has a problem.

But the second thing that aggravates me about that comment is this: not only do I think Q should not ever become decentralized and disconnected from his show’s narrative, I don’t think he has. The events of this season provided so much room to develop that character. He learned his discipline (minor mendings), which has tremendous practical usefulness as well as symbolic significance. “Escape From the Happy Place” reopened a potential relationship that contains a whole wellspring of emotional resonance as well as complication. His father died- you can do a lot with the grief related to that. His reconnection with Alice felt hollow to me, but even that could be useful narratively (especially if she goes on to lead the Library, which could create a layer of separation and potential for either teamwork or conflict of interest that could sustain several intriguing narratives). Even his tendency toward suicidal self-sacrifice could have been brought up; the conversation he had with Penny about whether he was trying to be a hero or just finally finding a way to kill himself could be had after a failed self-sacrifice attempt just as meaningfully as a successful one.

Quentin has been filled with potential this entire season in the storyline. All of this plus his emotional reckoning with Fillory in the scene where he brings the garden back to life... it seemed like the writers spent the whole season re-establishing all the potential Q had. It didn’t read like a season in which the writers didn’t know what to do with him any more. So the decision to kill him off does seem purely like an effort to challenge themselves as writers and wrong-foot the fans. Which I don’t think is enough of a reason to do it.

Because here’s the thing: I’m a writer too, and I understand that the dichotomy of pursuing your own writing vision and capitulating to the fans’ wants and needs is a delicate one. Writers hate being told what to write, and with social media and fan conventions and other very close forms of engagement, fans have more ways to make their desires known than perhaps ever before. They have every right to make the choice that supports their creative vision, and to do things that force them to stretch their limits as creators. But this feels like it went wildly off its mark. It feels less like an experiment and more like a careless move, and I think they could have approached it a lot better.

I wouldn’t rule out seeing Q again on the show one day. I think if they’re willing to fake us all out once, they’d do it again. I’m comforted by the fact that they appear to have consulted the author early in the process and gotten his blessing, although his comments since then seem to walk back his involvement or contradict what the showrunners have said. (Whether that’s because they’ve overstated his involvement or enthusiasm, or whether he was involved in the decision and is now trying to distance himself from the fallout, it’s impossible to say.)

What is less heartening for me is that some of these writers/creators come from Supernatural, a show that has gone on for far too long and has been retreading tired old ground for years. I only watched to about season 8, but it just feels like an endless cycle of similar plot arcs and killing off and resurrecting the same characters over and over again. The Magicians, admittedly, feels a lot more well-crafted, so I don’t think they’d get as lazy as SPN seems to be- but it’s still a worry, all the same.

(Side note: I am often adamant that unless it’s a legacy franchise like Doctor Who, most shows should intentionally be constructed to be a maximum of 5-7 seasons. I think a lot of broadcast shows are less high-quality because they are just vague pitches that get riffed into a show; the writers and creators don’t come into it with an endpoint in mind, so the show goes on as long as they can add any material at all to it or until they get cancelled, whichever comes first. That means that the plot feels aimless and unstructured. The difference between “prestige TV” and “regular TV” is not just better writing and acting overall- it’s that those shows tend to have a very defined arc, and they know where they’re going, so everything is in service of a common idea. Not just a vague and easily sellable premise that can have a ton of stuff derived from it with little effort. I think The Magicians sits above most broadcast shows in quality, but this is where it is starting to show its weak points. And that’s why I think the creators need to be very deliberate about making sure everything going forward contributes to a very defined arc.)

So that’s where I am right now. Emotionally a wreck; disappointed in the process of this choice and feeling the grief other fans feel; strangely invigorated at the same time? Unsure where to go from here, really. Still committed to watching the show as much as I ever have been, but wary at the same time. It’s complicated. But I’m ready to embrace the complexity of it.

[semirahrose]

I have seen Civil War only once because I hated it so much, haha. So I can't hang with your take, I honestly don't have the memory for it. But I'm interested in what you think as an unbiased party seeing the fued between Cap and Tony, what are your thoughts on the accords and the fallout from Civil War?

I’m sorry it’s taken a while to reply to this! My inbox is a disaster. 

[ Re: this response I wrote to a piece of MCU meta that crossed my dash ]

Makes sense! I saw it twice, I think, because I ended up watching it again with my dad, but I wasn’t too broken up about having to see it again. My favorite character is Bucky, and since he is—at best—a ghost of a shadow of an implication in most other Marvel movies, it was a treat for him to share some major screentime in that one. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to go back and rewatch it, though! It’s been years for me, so my memory is not the freshest, either! I owe any freshness of memory to my discussions with @monkeysatemylastrolo, who loves Tony and is super amazing, and deserves the credit for any coherence in this trash-fire of a response. 

(As for the start of your ask… To me, it’s pretty clear to me that Tony, in his grief, did a few things that were unquestionably lethal. A repulsor beam to the skull seems kinda like a no-brainer re: lethality. However, it was also clear he calmed down as the fight went on. But that’s not what this post is about, so…)

In short: I am the farthest thing from knowledgeable about the franchise or its characters. I have never read the comics. I will try my best to answer, but please bear with me.

Okay, so.

What do I think about the feud between Captain America and Iron Man?

Honestly? I think it was inevitable. For both of them. And I don’t really think it was as much about the politics as it was about their own personalities and experiences. I’m not trying to excuse anyone, but I also can’t really criticize either of them, because it’s hard for me to imagine them making any other choices. Of course the politics played a role, but if that alone were the case, I think they had enough of a friendship under their belts to reconcile their differences without violence. So, deep-seated fears and insecurities it is.

Cut for length. Some of this I’m making sense of as I type it. Sorry in advance.

To me, it seemed like at least part of the reason that Tony felt so strongly about the Accords was his past experiences. He had been made to doubt himself and his own decisions. He has been betrayed. His good intentions have—through no fault of his own—turned against him. It makes sense that he’d agree with the Accords, because there is security in having many voices. Guilt and shame and trauma led him to associate his (and the team’s) individual choices with death and destruction. 

To Steve, I think his history pushed him inexorably in the opposite direction. Way back when he was actually young, before he went in the ice, he was already a contrary fellow, but the war only pushed home his mistrust in government authority and oversight. I mean, Hitler. I don’t really think I need to say much more about how living in that time could instill a mistrust of authority in people. But that’s not nearly enough, of course, to justify his position. Enough to explain…. maybe. But then he comes out of the ice and helps to hold off a massive alien invasion as part of a government sanctioned group of enhanced individuals. Then the next Cap movie was all about how the organization he trusted and allied himself with was pretty much 90% Hydra, an organization that was still very much alive and well and which had kidnapped his closest friend, brainwashed him, repeatedly destroyed his memory, and forced him to kill. And ooohhhhhhh boy, the individualist streak is back. Anyone could be Hydra, and probably everyone is working for their own gain, anyway, with secret agendas from here to Mars. He withdraws. He only trusts himself. And you know, maybe that’s still not enough to justify his resistance, because the Accords were signed by so many countries and were supposed to really help things (though… I’ll get to that). Honestly, I can’t say that I see Steve as a terribly chilly, rational person. He’s hot-headed, and he does what he believes to be right, damn the consequences. 

But honestly, forget everything I said above, because while those probably had something to do with it in the beginning (and reasonably so, since I think our experiences do shape our perceptions and are difficult to change or unlearn). It probably wasn’t about any of that, and I doubt he could have expressed it if someone had asked. I think it was largely about Bucky. As soon as Bucky became a target, Steve was out. The Greater Good or whatever the flip might have been a footnote at the back of his mind, but

a) his only link to his past and his closest friend was being falsely accused and targeted

b) he didn’t know that it was unrelated to all the other stuff going down

c) since when has he been a cool-headed decision-maker?

So, honestly? Both of their positions make sense, just based on their personalities and experiences. Based on the fallout from some of their very major battles (though with battles of that magnitude, the damage doesn’t necessarily fall on them, because it’s most often driven by malicious forces), Tony’s position makes sense. They need permission. They need oversight. They do not have the right to just invade and destroy. It’s disgusting and disrespectful, and Tony has enough to have nightmares about.

But for Steve, the Accords likely seem like red tape. Bureaucracy and hemming and hawing about things have, in his experience, not often led to good things. It’s what meant the division his friend worked with—captured, tortured, and imprisoned—didn’t mean enough to save. To the absolute detriment of the big picture, he focuses on people. (See: Infinity War. Killing one man could have stopped or delayed everything, but he couldn’t justify it to himself. To him, the people he cares for are the universe. It warps his sense of scale.) So, as he is wont to do, he said, screw all of you, and he went off to free Bucky’s unit. Once again, in Civil War, the “greater good” came (quite indirectly) at the cost of Bucky. …I can’t say his actions surprised me, considering his history with the perversion of authority and government.

What did I think about the Accords?

Honestly? They sounded like they could have been very good. I really can’t speak to them, though. I genuinely can’t, because the movie told us nothing of their particulars. Their detractors are citing weaknesses that are not explicitly there, and the supporters of the accords are touting benefits that are also not explicitly present. We know many countries signed them. We know they’re pretty hefty. We know Wakanda signed them, which is a big point in their favor, though—crap. Actually… pre-Black Panther, Wakanda was a very insular country, denying outside influence. That could have affected their position. Anyway! The sheer amount of support they got means that the Accords likely seemed pretty solid to the majority of countries (if not necessarily the majority of the world, because there are a couple countries that hold a bit more sway, population-wise. I dunno if there’s a list out there of countries that signed, so let’s just assume the majority of the world).

Honestly? It sounds like, as long as there were provisions in place for emergency action (like in the case of another alien invasion) and some Mutant voices on whatever committee made decisions (crap, enhanced human? Are mutants a thing in Marvel? I know some characters weren’t allowed to be Mutant because of some weird dispute with Fox or something, so they just ended up enhanced in Marvel movie canon, but I don’t know if Mutants are a thing in this universe)—anyway. It sounds like they could have been good.

But honestly, I don’t know. And since that one really moustachey guy—was his name Ross??—was a) a jerk and b) the unofficial chain-yanker in the movie and the emblem of the limitations that would be placed on the Avengers, the accords didn’t get as good representation to viewers as they should have, and it became clear that, regardless of how amazing they were, there were already people set to take advantage of them. (Inevitable and irrelevant, I know. Just because there are people who will take advantage of a good thing doesn’t make it bad, but it wasn’t a beacon of reason to change Cap’s mind, either. It only drove home his presuppositions about authority.) 

The actual content of the Accords didn’t get much representation at all. So honestly? I can’t say anything about them. They could have been awesome. They could have sucked. They could have streamlined the process wonderfully and made taking action easier and safer for everyone… or tied the Avengers up in red tape and prevented them from apprehending Really Bad Dudes.

I don’t know, and I don’t think I can confidently say one way or another.

Also, it has become apparent to me that I really need to watch all of the Avengers movies, but I just don’t have the motivation.

[pause-and-affect-residencie-blog]

Why is She Falling by Máiréad Delaney

In two weeks, I will be travelling to the west of Ireland to a small building called The Embers, which my aunt and her mother once ran as a pub. The Embers has stood empty for more than ten years. When I was thirteen, I lived in the Embers with my aunt. She was still mourning the death of her mother. She would climb the stairs to a big room at the back of the house and sift through the contents of the sea chests there. Her mother brought these chests back and forth on the ship every summer.

I was outside the day she put her legs through the floor. The building has woodworm. The floor gave out under her weight. She punched down through and just as quickly ripped herself back up. When I came home I could see through the kitchen ceiling.

I’ve just told my mother I want to work with the hole.

I want to use the hole in the ceiling. The one my aunt fell through.

What? What hole? She never made a hole in the ceiling.  

She did, I was there the day it happened.

Well, yes. We’ve fixed it now. There isn’t any hole. (1)

In April 2017, my grandmother died of complications from a fall which broke her pelvis. When she died, I was in a plane crossing the Atlantic. For five years, I have been working with women whose bodies were split, the pelvis the point of impact.

This breaking has a name, it is a pro-life surgical intervention called symphysiotomy. Revived in Ireland in the 1940‘s and practiced through the 1990’s, symphysiotomy is a brutal procedure, primarily performed during childbirth. The bones of the pelvis are cut with a saw until the pelvis unhinges. It is left broken, open. This experiment aimed to facilitate and encourage subsequent births. The surgeries were implemented systematically, according to a natalist moral agenda in nationalist, Catholic, decolonizing Ireland. Thousands of women underwent this procedure, their very skeletal structure altered for the building of a new nation. The surgery was often performed without warning, explanation, or medical consent. The history of this surgery is ‘unwritten.’ Attaining medical records is an arduous and often fruitless pursuit for survivors.(2)

One woman sustained such nerve damage that the nerves running to the lower half of her body would flicker out, unpredictably. She fell, over and over, as her legs lost their ties to her brain. She spoke of visiting doctors again and again without result. Finally, her husband came with her, asking the doctor, “Why is she falling?”

The doctor, half-lowering his voice and speaking to the man, responded, “Don’t you know women? Imagination.”(3)

Why is she falling?

Don’t you know women?

Imagination

Her falls were after the break. My grandmother broke as she fell. She fell on a Sunday in April and hours ahead in Ireland, on Sunday night, I was breaking branches with my own body. She died on Monday. I was in a plane over the ocean. There was time and distance in between. Miles of conduit line the floor of the ocean. I think about the darkness inside the body punctuated by flickering nerves, this inner electricity like lights seen from a great height. Then the outage, like the velvet surface of the night and black-topped, unplumbable water. I think of sparks inside the dark of a broken body, a blinding light at the split-second of the break, the pop of new space created by the punch-crack of breaking.

  Silence met the falling woman, the impact of hitting the ground was swept away by doctors words. I am looking at the pressure which causes the ‘break,’ and then the silencing of both afterwards. This is a silence that contains pressure, a silence capable of breaking bones. I make in an effort to speak to that silence.

If I were to qualify the silence I attempt to speak to, I would say it is a chasm made by the lack of justice. It is a deflecting shield made by the denial of recognition. If this justice is denied perpetually, silence becomes at once a cliff-face and sink-hole of absurdity. Can we talk back to silence when the silence is a swallowing, when it is an erosion of the ground underfoot, when it comes behind the teeth to frost-bite all movement of the tongue? This kind of silence is active. Never absence, this silence opens a hole where an accountable party ought to stand.

What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life?

The world would split open

Muriel Rukeyser (4)

Yet, I have found, the world does not split open. At large, there is a lack of rupture, a lack of visible evidence of violation, no break, no radical discontinuity. Instead, life goes on. Violence coagulates with grief and time and it bloats, overflows. (5)

If an event goes unrecognized or is delegitimized, the suppression of it produces a pressure. Under that pressure, is not as though the event never occurred but rather that it never ends. It is just there, with that pressure-- that grappling constitutes our ‘real.’

I am not interested in reverse-engineering the event, in creating a rupture to access ‘original’ violence. It is plain that such methods do not have the effect Rukeyser prophesied, not in this present world, where the forces of silence police actively and reseal efficiently.

I am interested in making the conditions of our present existence clear. (6) I came to performance as a practice of embodied speech acts, gestures which attempt a simultaneous holding-at bay of crushing violence and an affective entrance into its structure of feeling. I undertake these actions so that we might come to collective sensed knowledge of violent realities and recognize the effects of this violence and our grief over time.

Staking the unthinkable against the everyday charges the every day with what it contains. This ‘charge’ is both innervation, a frisson of electricity, and the levelling of a demand for accountability.

Staking the unthinkable against the everyday charges the every day with what it contains. The everyday ‘contains’ the unthinkable, it is both saturated by it and yet the unthinkable is imprisoned, unrepresented.

Yet amidst the lack of representation, excess blossoms. Under strata, a bruise expands, color blooms. Fragments surface.

I site my questions now in the undertow of silence, on the tender, treacherous ground which threatens submersion, where the air is thin, where our surroundings are desaturated and heightened at once. I imagine this space as between contained experience and the forces of containment. It refers to contained experience, but it does not merely contain and batter its occupant with the forces of that containment. Up against the impenetrable, the unheeding-hard, the faceless, A branch breaks. A pop, a gasp, a gap, a little pocket of space. The body gives.

In the making of work, I work small un-makings. I have broken, cut, compressed, bitten. I do not see these gestures as destructive, rather they apply pressure to pressure. They speak to silence. Perhaps these specificities of sensation might reach such a pitch of intensity that we all hear the pressurized hiss or see the fissured surface. Tongue against metal, a cracked branch. These are my own answers to silence.

These women, breaking, suspended in shuddering silence, continue to fall.

1. My mother, phone conversation with author, November 2, 2018.

2. Marie O’Connor, Bodily Harm: Symphysiotomy and Pubiotomy in Ireland 1944-92, (Dublin: Johnswood Press, 2011)

3. Sheridan, Patricia (survivor of symphysiotomy). Interview with Mairead Delaney. Dublin, October 26, 2015.

4. Muriel Rukeyser, “Käthe Kollwitz,” The Collected Poems of Muriel Rukeyser, ed. Janet E. Kaufman, Anne F. Herzog, and Jan Heller. Levi (Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2006), 460.

5. Andrea Long Chu (2017) Study in blue: trauma, affect, event, Women & Performance: a journal of feminist theory,27:3, 301-315, DOI: 10.1080/0740770X.2017.1365440

6."The conviction that everything that happens of earth must be comprehensible to man can lead to interpreting history by commonplaces. Comprehension does not mean denying the outrageous, deducing the unprecedented from precedents, or explaining phenomena by such analogies and generalities that the impact of reality and the shock of experience are no longer felt. It means, rather, examining and bearing consciously the burden that our century has placed on us — neither denying its existence nor submitting meekly to its weight. Comprehension, in short, means the unpremeditated, attentive facing up to, and resisting of, reality — whatever it may be…This is the reality in which we live. And this is why all efforts to escape from the grimness of the present into nostalgia for a still intact past, or into the anticipated oblivion of a better future, are vain.”

 Arendt, Hannah, The Origins of Totalitarianism, (Orlando, Austin, New York, San Diego, London: Harcourt, Brace Jovanovich, 1973), 2

[tenscupcake]

my first, and possibly only, official statement on the new doctor.

i've honestly been truly and thoroughly baffled, and rather disappointed, by the lack of discussion occurring around this polarizing issue. in fact, in my brief experience on various social media platforms, discussion is rarely, if ever, allowed. the tiniest expression of discontent with the new doctor immediately elicits a slew of insults and accusations of misogyny. i have yet to have an actual conversation with anyone about this, aside from close personal friends who share my views, because those who don't share them will not even engage them. they instead immediately resort to name calling and shut down any attempts at conversation i make. honestly, it has driven a wedge between me and doctor who and its fandom like i've never experienced, not even in all my suffering through the moffat era.

i hesitated for a while about coming back on here at all. but i figured it would be wrong of me to not give my friends and acquaintances here a chance to really hear me out, since before i took a hiatus i hadn't really properly articulated my reasoning (for the aforementioned reasons). so to anyone interested in my thoughts on the matter (and let me explicitly mention here that i am referring only to rational people who are willing to either read silently and go about their day or else engage in a polite discussion with me, not people who are just going to send me vicious anonymous asks), here they are.

i’m sure it’s no surprise to any of my followers that i haven’t been actively watching the show for some time now. in fact, i stepped away indefinitely sometime early season 8, not because i had any issue with capaldi, but because i didn’t feel moffat’s writing had improved any since the last season.

so, it may have come as a surprise to many of you that i even had a strong reaction of any kind, be it positive or negative. and i can certainly see where you’re coming from, if that’s the case.

when it was announced early last year that moffat would finally be leaving, i threw a party. i literally did. i got together with my one other real-life friend who watches the show, watched rtd episodes, and made blue cupcakes (that were supposed to be TARDIS colored but turned out more of a pale teal and baby blue combo). i can’t even explain how happy i was at the mere suggestion of him leaving. because in my eyes, he took my favorite show and turned it into something i resented. it was such a slow and painful process to come to terms with the fact that a show i once loved was causing me so much grief, and finally part ways with it (at least in the sense of following along with the new episodes; i’ve obviously remained active in the rtd sect and continue to devote a significant chunk of my life to the doctor and rose *blush*). but i just couldn’t deal with the constant disappointment and rage anymore. i knew it was for the best.

i liked broadchurch well enough, with the exception of the second season, and i thought there was no way chibnall could be worse than moffat. and best case scenario, he could potentially resurrect the show into something i’d enjoy again. maybe it was foolish to hope for such a thing, but i owe far too much to this show after all it’s done for me to not give it a second chance under new leadership. so when, a few weeks ago, they told us the date they’d be announcing the new doctor, i got properly excited again. to put a face to my renewed hope in the series? it was hard not to get excited. the sound of the tardis still makes my heart swell with joy and gratitude. i’m still invested. just look at my room or my wardrobe. i’m a self-proclaimed doctor who geek through and through. if i wasn’t, i don’t think it would be possible for me to be genuinely upset about anything that happened to the show. the things we love are the things that can hurt us the most.

so, without prolonging the inevitable any longer, i’ll try to explain why i was/am upset by the casting announcement.

i really have three main reasons.

1. the issue of representation.

let me start out by saying i am a passionate advocate for better (i won't say more, because i don't think that's the issue at hand) female representation in media. especially film. i desperately want more intelligent, strong, powerful women in fiction. but what i absolutely do not want is to recycle traditionally male characters into female ones. doesn't this seem counterproductive to anyone else? its almost as though a man always has to pave the way, and only once he's established a character can a woman potentially take over. it’s trite and more than a little insulting.

give me more original female characters who kick ass. give me more natasha romanoffs, more reys, more elle woods, more leslie knopes.

don’t give me more batgirls or supergirls. don’t take a character as prominent and culturally significant as the doctor and morph him into a woman after 50+ years (or 2000+, depending on your perspective).

and you know, i've actually seen people say (addressing people who are upset about the casting): ‘a character’s gender doesn't have to match yours to be a good role model for you.’ you know what? to an extent, i actually agree. as a matter of fact, i strongly identify with and take inspiration from the doctor, even though he's a man. does nobody hear how hypocritical it sounds to say you want a woman to play the doctor purely so girls can have another role model, and then turn around and in the next sentence say gender is irrelevant to role models? yeah, this one really floored me.

but though i do think that one’s role models don’t have to match one’s gender 100% of the time, it is important to have some that do. and i do think there is an imbalance in the number of strong male leads in tv and film versus the number of strong female leads. keyword: strong. i’m tired of sexist stereotyping and failed bechdel tests, too. probably more than most, actually. but i think taking existing male characters and gender bending them is the absolute worst way to go about rectifying this imbalance.

2. the issue of the nature of gender.

i want to preface this by saying that, until fairly recently, i was something of a fundamentalist when it came to gender. but over the years, i’ve realized how problematic such views are. i’ve invested hours upon hours of my free time scouring reddit threads and watching documentaries about trans issues to understand this crucial part of the LGBT community. to learn. and what i’ve gathered from my thorough research, and heard from the many personal experiences of transgender individuals i’ve read, is that gender is something distinct from biological sex that is immutable. the gender you’re born with is the gender you are for life. (and yes, as i understand it this does also apply to genderfluid individuals - they’ve always been genderfluid even if it was not always expressed.) and changes made to physical appearance are merely affirming one’s gender, not changing it.

changing the doctor into a woman flies directly in the face of this very concept. and to me, it really, truly feels like an insult to the trans community.

it’s going back to the regressive fundamentalist view that sex = gender. that because the doctor has a woman’s body now, he must therefore identify as a woman. though this hasn’t been explicitly confirmed in so many words, given the widespread use of feminine pronouns and the term ‘woman’, i think it’s safe to conclude this is the case for the show. and this is so contrary to the whole message the LGBT community is trying to put out.

now. i’ve heard several potential counterarguments to this, so bear with me as i go through them.

first, people say ‘but the doctor is an alien, not a human. our gender expectations don’t apply.’ true. yes. he is an alien. but is the show really about his alienness? i think you’d be hard-pressed to convince me that it is. the truth is, though it’s told through tales of distant planets and creepy aliens, it’s really a show about humanity, and always has been. doctor who has always espoused a meaningful kind of secular humanism. it’s explored what it means to be human in so many impactful ways. and it’s because the doctor looks and acts human much of the time, succumbs to human emotions and has such human flaws, that he is so relatable. yes, it’s a sci-fi show about time travel and regeneration and spaceships, but if the doctor were completely alien and had no human qualities, it wouldn’t have become such a hit. don’t try to deny that. trying to distance the doctor from humanity is a detriment, not a benefit, to the show.

and though some may argue we ought to hope for and potentially work towards a future where gender is irrelevant, the fact is in today’s society gender is exceedingly relevant. and important. transgender people and feminist movements wouldn’t exist - wouldn’t need to exist - if it weren’t.

second, i see people say ‘the doctor has no gender.’ this one admittedly really throws me. no gender? where is the evidence for that?

for one thing, what point would there be to differentiating between time lords and time ladies if gender was not of import on gallifrey?

there is also a plethora of evidence to the contrary: the doctor has in fact consistently identified as a man. starting JUST with ten:

in ‘the christmas invasion’: he says ‘same man, new face. well, new everything.’

also in tci: ‘oh, that's rude. that's the sort of man i am now, am i?

also in tci: ‘no second chances. i’m that sort of man.’

in ‘fear her’: ‘look at my manly hairy hand’

in ‘evolution of the daleks’: ‘the only man in the universe who might show you some compassion’

in ‘utopia’: ‘i was a different man back then.’

in ‘voyage of the damned’: ‘i’m the man who’s going to save your lives’

in ‘the end of time’: ‘even if i change, it feels like dying. everything i am dies. some new man goes sauntering away.’

a couple of these quotes actually indicate that he has an innate sense of being a man that transcends regeneration. depending on his current level of angst, it seems, he sees himself as a different man or the same man, but the ‘man’ part remains the same. he doesn’t say ‘person’ or ‘character’ or anything to that effect. he says ‘man.’

not to mention, the doctor consistently objects to being called a human (or martian), and corrects those who mislabel him as such, but never once objects to being called a man (which is quite often).

and just so that no one accuses me of singling out one doctor too much, here’s a quote from the first doctor from the pilot, an unearthly child: ‘i’m an old man. how can an old man like me harm any of you?’

right off the bat. the doctor has been identifying as a man for literally thousands of years.

sorry for lingering on that sub-point for a while. it’s just so mind-boggling to me because there’s so much freely available evidence to the contrary.

third, i’ve noticed there seems to be some level of collective amnesia of the backlash from when the master made a comeback as missy. given what i’ve observed of people praising the decision retroactively, no one seems to remember the fandom’s response from that revelatory episode anymore. but i remember it vividly. a number of people were furious, the trans community and its allies in particular. and this outrage returned with a vengeance when missy kissed the doctor (12) later on. though i had already given up on watching the show by then (at least as long as moffat’s hellish reign continued), the anger and frustration i was seeing really resonated with me. 

i have never forgotten that, and it is undoubtedly a big part of the reason i’m so angry and frustrated now. i am at least consistent, if nothing else. but conversely, there seems to be a lack of consistency among much of the fandom, as i sense none of the widespread ire from the past making a resurgence now, and it’s unclear why. the same issues regarding gender are at play. it’s leading me to assume that many people are embracing this decision purely for perceived representation, while disregarding potential cultural issues it may raise, which i think is dangerously selfish and shallow.

3. the choice of actress.

i’m not going to pull any punches here, since i’m already putting my blog’s reputation in jeopardy by making this post at all. i don’t like jodie whittaker, specifically. i think she’s a terrible actress.

this is based purely off of watching broadchurch, because it’s the only thing i’ve seen her in. but her performance paled miserably next to david’s and olivia’s, and even some minor characters’. i mean, beth’s life thoroughly sucked, and everything in it went from bad to worse for a while, but i didn’t really care. she didn’t make me care. i think that’s a huge red flag for any actor. because, i mean, compare that to olivia’s performance. i mean, SHIT. miller made me feel things every episode. intense things. and beth didn’t. at all. ever.

so, even IF the other two issues were somehow resolved, i still wouldn’t be happy with the casting choice, because i am not at all impressed with this person’s acting ability. the doctor is a huge role. a critical one. and i’m honestly not sure what she did to earn it.

so, that’s it. it’s not every nook and cranny of my position, but it’s the gist of it.

as my final thought, i’ll reiterate what i said at the beginning, to anyone considering responding to this: hostile ad hominem responses will be resolutely ignored, but (time and volume of responses permitting) polite intellectual debate will likely be engaged. but let it be said that though i’m willing to listen to reason, it’s highly unlikely anyone will change my mind.

i don’t want this to widen the chasm between me and the fandom. i already feel so distant from it already, like i’m hanging on by a thread. in all likelihood, i won’t discuss the subject at all any more after this post, save for when responding to others’ comments or questions about it. and even then, i will do so privately whenever i can. because i really don’t want to dwell on it anymore. i’ve finally sunk myself back into ep after an extended hiatus due to surgery and work, and that’s what i’d really like to dedicate my free time to from here on out. that and my other d/r fics. that’s what makes me happy; not bickering with people who don’t agree with me.

so please! feel free not to respond to this at all. it is completely optional and even somewhat discouraged, because i am tired of thinking about it and being yelled at and insulted for it. i’d love to forget about it and move on, at least until i’m forced to confront it again this christmas. i want to get back to what my blog is all about - nine and ten’s era. david. the fun smattering of friends and parks gifs. but above all else, the doctor and rose. the couple i’ve dedicated the past four years of my life to.

no matter what happens, i’m going to stay with them. whether or not i stick around on tumblr, i’ll continue posting my fics on ao3. they’re my happy place. these characters mean the world to me. and doctor who will always be very dear to my heart, regardless of how the future of the show pans out. i hope my followers never doubt that.

[supershylockfandom-blog]

The Whirligig of Gender Will Have Its Revenges

Over the course of our trip, I was very vocal (perhaps too vocal) about two things in particular: 

1) Twelfth Night is my favorite Shakespearean play (save for the possible exception of Hamlet, but lately the odds have tipped from his favor to Viola’s).

2) I absolutely loathed the Globe production that we attended. 

By the end of the play, I was deeply incensed (not to mention a few drinks in)-- so much so that I couldn’t stand to stay for the triumphant finale jig and left early. After that, I called home and ranted to my younger sister until I felt calm again and went back to my flat. To be clear, I have never been so emotional about disliking a theatrical (or cinematic) production of anything to this day. I’ve even seen Twelfth Nights I’ve liked less than the one we saw as a class without being half as disturbed or upset by them. “Why then, did this particular version have such an effect on you?” You are not asking yourself this question, because my opinion is neither here nor there to anyone but myself; I wondered this while half-drunk, actually, and later, once sober again, came upon the answer:

As a preface, I would like to point out that, in the 21st Century, there is no wrong way to interpret Shakespeare, so long as you have a particular vision in mind and follow through on your plans. There are, of course, inadequate methods of performing and staging (for the record, I thought that the blacking and acting we saw was effective and skilled), and some Shakespeareans-- particularly those at The Globe-- are especially staunch about leaning into “original practices,” but theater has evolved so much in the last 400 years that even productions that call themselves traditional Elizabethan stagings are not that (consider the Tim Carroll Twelfth Night: where are the prepubescent boys meant to be playing the Viola, Olivia, and Maria? Why is the blocking so modern?) All that is left is the text and its sparse stage directions. I am aware that my disdain for the Emma Rice production is based mainly upon personal preference. However, I like to believe that my opinions hold enough water to be worth the attention and respect of others.

(Under the cut for length.)

My two favorite things about Twelfth Night are, in order, its inherent queerness and bitterness. Make no mistake, being an Elizabethan comedy, it can just as easily be light, frothy, and straight (as evidenced by what we witnessed last week) and even the darkest versions thereof must make room for fun potty humor and slapstick and heterosexual, cisgendered couplings (as those too, are in the text). Those things, as much as any present queerness or anger, are part of the fun of Twelfth Night, and the former is where most of the comedy comes from. But the genderqueer, non-straight, and angry undercurrents that can be detected in this play (whether placed there by its author knowingly or not) go oft ignored. I am disappointed by this, naturally, but never before have I had it thrown in my face this way by a company so prestigious as the Globe. 

I think my central problem with the Rice staging was her Feste.

Yes, I did notice that Feste was portrayed by a very talented and engaging drag queen. No, that did not help. But did it make my experience worse? Absolutely, 100%, yes. Feste is perhaps the pettiest, most resentful character in the text. He cares not for the emotions of others, particularly not that of his Lady Olivia, who’s grief he mocks and belittles (granted, this is his job, and at his kindest, he has been portrayed as genuinely fond of her, but more often than not, he is a punch-clock entertainer, who cares only for the emotions of others as long as they will pay him for what he elicits) in his first appearance, after being absent from her court for an extended period of time. 

Feste. Good madonna, why mournest thou? Olivia. Good fool, for my brother's death. Feste. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. Olivia. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. Feste. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen (5.1. 357-362).

His only real interests throughout the play appeared to be song, logical wordplay (”simple syllogism[s]”), crude jokes (”many a good hanging prevented a bad marriage”), weaseling pocket change away from the rich, and enacting petty revenge. At his best, he’s a puckish partygoer and delightful busker, at his worst, he is apart from all other social groups in the play and cruel to at least the same degree as the bear-baiting merrymakers. 

“Earlier, Malvolio had mocked Feste for his dependence on others... But [Feste] also mirrors Malvolio specifically as a dependent in a court and as one the play most clearly shows as a solitary character. He is the one who echoes Malvolio’s words about dependency on approval in shortened form, ‘An you smile not, he’s gagged’ (5.1.363-4), back to him at the end. And after he exults ‘Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges’ (364), Malvolio in turn mirrors him, promising his own revenge” (66 Novy). 

Feste is at his most useful when existing as a mirror for other characters-- he contextualizes his lady’s grief with cruel mockery, challenges Viola’s wits and disguise, and most importantly, shows Malvolio the cruelty that he callously doles out. When his dialogue is chopped up into saintly wisdom from a loving goddess in the Heavens, his status as a dynamic character and device is stripped from him. When Feste is robbed of his archetypal trickster-status, it weakens the core themes of the play which are written into the very title (as Twelfth Night and the Feast of Fools were, of course, traditionally a day of opposites, much as Feste the wise fool is a natural mirror and walking contradiction). When he is robbed of his anger towards his social betters (Olivia and Malvolio), this is further weakened. 

My qualms with making Feste a benevolent Goddess are based entirely upon the text; my problems with casting said benevolent goddess as a drag queen are two fold. My first is in the broader scope of media representation of drag queens, trans women, and feminine genderqueer persons. Most often, the cinematic and theatrical tradition is to demonize such individuals as lascivious perverts, which is obviously dehumanizing. As well-intended backlash, many younger content creators have thus spun around done the patent opposite by deifying them (this is also, notably, a dichotomy experienced by black women/femmes, be they cisgender, trans, or otherwise gender nonconforming). Deification is in its own way a subtler form of dehumanization. Much like the treatment of so-called virtuous women in the Victorian era, the representation of any group as somehow morally superior or “above” the rest of the rest is restricting. An anti-Semite might do well to wonder: “Hath a Jew not eyes?... If you prick us, do we not bleed?” but any white, cisgendered woman who routinely refers to black women and femme queers as “black goddesses” (which is absolutely a thing, as those of you who frequent tumblr, twitter, pintrest, or instagram most likely know) should be reminded that, just like all people, black queer femmes fart and defecate regularly, and they, like all other members of the human race, run on a sliding scale of morality, wisdom, and grace, depending on the individual. The archetypal example of this “heavenly body” trope is Angel of Rent, being a Latina trans-woman (or gender-fluid person, or drag queen, depending on the interpretation) who is always given the moral high ground, dies a tragically noble death, always has resources to bestow upon the less fortunate, and is literally called “Angel.” Much like Feste, she is the only gender non-conforming femme poc in her cannon, and that, paired with the erasure and demonization of this particular group that has been so common in Western art and media, leaves them as the sole representation of said group to be found in fiction. Each time a character of a group so mishandled as that is brought into play, that character becomes a mouthpiece for the entire population of such individuals that exist in reality. The trope of the black, femme goddess is much kinder than the demonization and willful ignorance of old, but in 2017, we should be beyond this refusal to portray those who exist outside of the white, straight, cis hegemony as anything other than individuals as complex as everyone else in their canon. Anyone who is tempted to bring up the “Sister Topas” scene as a counter-argument is welcome to it, but this derives from a halfhearted attempt to recast Feste as a personification of fate after four acts of being nothing but sage and understanding. It is not deeper characterization, as it is not played as either vengeance or cruelty-- at best, it is a twist of fate personified, at worst, it is whoever doctored the script backing themselves into a character-writing corner by striping Feste of his humanity.

My second challenge to the choice of La Gateau Chocolat as Feste is that her place in the cast is by its very nature misleading. Twelfth Night is well known among Shakespeare fans as one of the (if not the) queerest Shakespearean plays. It is well-known for featuring one of several Shakespearean Antonios, all of whom are noted for their non-explicit homosexual passion (Twelfth Night’s Antonio’s love for Sebastian is second only to the Antonio of Merchant of Venice and his suicidal devotion to Bessanio, and the villainous Antonio of The Tempest finds his match and constant companion in an equally rotten Sebastian.) Also present is the wooing that takes place between two women, and the Duke Orsino’s apparent attraction to one who is “both man and maid,” whom he never ceases to refer to as “boy” or “Cesario,” even after learning “his” true name and gender. Moreover, of all of Shakespeare’s cross-dressing Paige Boys, Viola spends the most time as her male counterpart, who’s name, as we discussed in class, translates roughly to “rebirth” by way of “cesarean section.” I bring these up because each of these characters have been stripped of their queerness systematically. Cesario/Viola is often played as not just a cross-dresser for strategy’s sake but a genderqueer individual in earnest; Olivia’s realization that Sebastian is not his sister has been played as a horrible, sinking realization; Antonio is often left on stage alone to highlight his loss of Sebastian to heterosexual tradition. I am by no means saying that stagings must be this way or that they must reflect this queer undercurrent, and I have liked versions of the play that exemplify few or none of these choices. My problem with Rice’s Twelfth Night is that, not only does it ignore the inherent discomfort that Feste and each of these queer characters experiences when played as such, but she has dressed her staging up as a celebration of queerness and diversity when that diversity only runs skin-deep (at least, in terms of the aforementioned and belabored queerness.)

 I have already explained my problems with Rice’s Feste, so I will now move on to two new subjects: Malvolio and Sir Andrew. These characters are blatantly coded as queer in that Malvolio is played by a cross-dressing woman and Andrew is played as camp gay. However, that is as deep as the queer vein in this staging runs. Malvolio is not traditionally a queer character (although he is often the subject of “genderbending” to varying degrees of success), nor is he played as queer on stage. He is only branded as such due to being played by a woman, despite being played as a man. Andrew’s status is particularly egregious, as-- in being both comically stupid and violently mean-- he is the most difficult to sympathize with of any character; he has no compelling emotional core written into the text, nor is any planted into Marc Antolin’s portrayal of him. He is also a wooer of Olivia’s and, as far as the text and blocking is concerned, more “metrosexual” than homosexual in earnest. What this does is play all stereotypically gay mannerisms (those that he possesses which Antonio, Sebastian, and even the preening Duke evade whether they are played as queer men or not) for laughs and nothing else. “It’s funny,” the audience says, “because he’s in a pink sweater and he’s got a funny lisp.” Meanwhile, Olivia never notices her very real attraction towards another woman, the Duke Orsino’s sexual identity crisis is just barely hinted at, and most questionable of all, Antonio is played as a father figure to Sebastian. Lawman’s Antonio’s body language is neutral and distant, not half as wracked with passions as his lines:“If you will not murder me for my love//Let me be your servant” (1.2.642-3) and “ I could not stay behind you: my desire//More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth” (3.3.1492-3). 

In conclusion: Rice’s staging of Twelfth Night may be good for a laugh, but it robs the text of its philosophical weight, its bitterness, and its genuine queer discomfort, thus replacing these things with a light gloss of queer acceptance by playing “We Are Family” at the beginning and giving Sir Andrew a pencil mustache. I am not upset that Rice’s staging was not queer or angry enough for my liking; I am upset because her staging insisted (whether she wanted it to or not) that a wave of sequins and a disco chorus should be queer enough for me, and I ought to stop being so angry all the time and accept what I’ve been given. 

SOURCES:

Novy, Marianne. “Outsiders and the Festive Community in Twelfth Night.” Shakespeare & Outsiders. Oxford University Press, 2013. 

Shakespeare, William. "Twelfth Night, or What You Will." Open Source Shakespeare. N.p., n.d. Web. 18 June 2017.

[bowditch]

Sleepwalker

Chapter 2 on AO3

--

The kitchen is quiet while Alfred Pennyworth sits at the table, thin fingers curled around a cup of steaming tea. He is waiting with an old and practiced patience, a crafted and unhurried ambush. There are no distractions, no lists to write or chores to busy himself with because he is focused.

He set his trap twenty minutes previous, announcing loudly to Bruce that he would walk out with him to the garage because he had errands to run in the city. He walked as far as the door, quietly claimed he had changed his mind, and retreated silently to the kitchen to wait.

There is coffee in the kitchen that, even if he is avoiding food, Tim will come searching for if he thinks Alfred is gone. And he needs to think Alfred is gone because he has been avoiding everyone in the four days since the fear toxin and his subsequent breakdown in the cave, but he has especially been avoiding Bruce and Alfred.

Alfred knows, because it is the sort of thing he feels he ought to know whenever possible, that Tim has also been avoiding sleep and is likely exhausted enough that he will fail to notice such a simple ruse.

When Tim staggers into the kitchen several minutes later, Alfred is justified in his assumptions.

“Master Timothy,” Alfred says clearly while Tim is reaching for the bag of coffee beans in the cabinet with the French press.

The boy’s whole body jerks once in surprise.

“Augh!” Tim shouts, spinning and smacking his face against the open cupboard door.

“Goodness gracious,” Alfred says mildly, standing as Tim rubs his brow with a scowl. “Come sit. I’ll make the coffee.”

Tim opens his mouth to protest but his shoulders spasm and his lips press tightly together. He hunches forward a little and then nods and takes a seat at the table.

Without discussing the decision, Alfred measures decaf grounds into the glass carafe. He does not frown in Tim’s direction because he knows, because it is a nuance he knows from experience, that where Bruce would ignore or deflect a frown from him, Tim would take it as a deeply personal criticism. But he frowns at the kettle as it warms water for the French press.

He is not a stranger to the signs of physical exhaustion, and involuntary muscle tremors along with confusion and lowered reflexes are both serious signs indeed.

When he carries a mug of coffee over to the table, Tim is sitting in a chair with his head lying on his crossed arms on the tabletop, but his eyes are open and staring off aimlessly into the middle distance. Tim flinches when Alfred sets the coffee down.

“Now, Master Timothy,” Alfred says, sitting across from him. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

“Nothing,” Tim says, swallowing hard. He hasn’t lifted his head. “I just haven’t been sleeping. That’s all.”

“Master Timothy,” Alfred says again, a bit sternly. “This is more than ordinary insomnia.”

“Fear toxin,” Tim mutters after a long, long silence. “I’m…it’s just taking me longer…don’t tell Bruce.”

“Do you believe yourself to require another dose of the antidote?” Alfred asks, mentally reviewing how much they’d given the boy. It should have been more than enough. “You ought to have mentioned it sooner if–”

“No,” Tim says, waving a limp hand. “It’s out of my system.”

He doesn’t elaborate and Alfred sits quietly while Tim props himself up enough to drink the coffee.

Alfred knows, because it is a thing that is his burden to know, that the effects of fear toxin linger for long after the chemical component has been neutralized. He knows from personal experience and from walking the halls in the darkness before dawn, listening to Bruce and then Dick, and then Jason, and then Tim, and then Cass, and then Damian, as each in their turn shattered the silence with groans or screams or sleepless pacing in the aftermath of encounters with the vile stuff. But they are all experts now at coping with nightmares, they each have the routines they use to clear their minds or escape the flickers of haunting memory.

Except this time, with Tim.

As far as Alfred has been able to gather, Tim has not resorted to any of his usual methods. This is concerning because Tim is not a boy easily rattled-- whatever fear it is that has gripped his heart or mind must run deep and convincing, is almost certainly more than the representation of a phobia.

“You ought to sleep,” Alfred chides gently when the coffee is nearly gone. Even if he doubts Tim will take the advice without argument or resistance, it is the sort of thing he should say to prod Tim along in discussion.

Tim tips the remnants of the coffee, swirling the last mouthful in the mug while he watches it as if mesmerized. He does not appear to have heard Alfred but Alfred also knows that, out of all of the children he has cared for under the manor roof, it is Tim who best mimics Bruce’s ability to ignore or fake inattention.

Alfred waits.

“Do you think Bruce would have been okay without me? Like, eventually?” Tim asks, pushing the unfinished coffee away.

Alfred sighs and crosses his legs, leans back in the kitchen chair. Tim is not the easiest boy to reason with or convince once a seed has been planted in his mind and taken root. If he is not careful, if he does not move and speak with great intention and consideration, his words will be dismissed and he will be cut off from further usefulness. Alfred knows this, because this is not the first such conversation he has had with Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. The topics vary, but when Tim is in a state like the one he is in now-- physically and mentally and emotionally exhausted, trembling from muscle stress and severing himself from his usual contacts-- he requires both caution and honesty from Alfred.

It is, without elaboration, a difficult balance.

“I think, in time, he would have come to terms with his grief without you, yes,” Alfred acknowledges. “But I do not know that he would have done so without someone else. It is impossible now to say who else could have filled that role, and if they would have come in time to prevent premature death or the crossing of an irreversible transition.”

“So, I saved him?” Tim asks, and rather than a note of hope in his voice there is a dread in the sudden hunch of his thin frame. His words are flat and Alfred’s brow creases in minor, but brief, confusion before he grasps an inkling of what might be haunting Tim.

“No,” Alfred says and the boy slumps forward, just slightly, in evident relief. “You saved him in a way, and have saved him many times since. He is the man he is today partly because you noticed and sought him out. But you perhaps shaped him more than saved him. He was growing violent and I certainly had my concerns, but he was not self-destructive to the point of actual danger. No, Master Timothy, I am afraid that if I am being truthful, I must tell you that you were a stepping stone to his healing and not a savior.”

“Okay,” Tim says, exhaling slowly. “Okay.”

There is little to no point in Alfred asking Tim precisely what he saw or what it is he is recalling at his most haunted moments. Even if the boy would attempt to tell him, the nature of toxin fears was such that they often seemed ridiculous when recounted aloud-- rather than this being reassuring, it had the perverse effect of deepening a sense of isolation.

Tim is fiddling now with the coffee mug, twisting it on the table so the handle makes the loop away from one hand and back to the other.

For a brief second, his eyes flick up to meet Alfred’s own, and the older man’s heart hurts at the desperation and weariness there-- it is too great, too aged, for such a boy to bear. It makes him think of men he knew in the military, men who were men because of their combat and not because of their years.

Eighteen and a veteran.

Nineteen and stooped with the world’s darkest horrors.

Twenty and never with the hope of being young again.

And Tim is only seventeen.

“If,” Tim says, dropping his gaze back to the table. There is a quiet hollowness in the manor, giving it a dreamlike quality of perceived stasis while seconds and then minutes tick by. Tim clears his throat and rather than his voice increasing in volume, it lowers when he continues. Alfred thinks of fairy tales where the furniture or the walls of a powerful house overhear, spy on the inhabitants, tattle about their fears and conspiracies and plans.

“If,” Tim says again in a whisper, “If Bruce had been a danger to himself, to others more than you could accept, would you have admitted him against his wishes to psychiatric care?”

For a moment, the only response Alfred can manage is to blink. He is genuinely shaken by the question, not because he doesn’t know his answer but because he is not certain that they are still actually talking about Bruce.

“Do you believe yourself to be a danger?” Alfred asks directly, unwilling to let this particular point sit in ambiguity.

Tim shakes his head as if bothered by an insect, quick and irritated.

“No. I’m asking about Bruce,” he says. There’s a note of warning in his tone, a sign that the conversation will only continue as long as they stay on topic. That is enough for Alfred to be convinced that he means what he says.

“Yes,” Alfred says without bothering to whisper to match Tim’s low tone. “I would have admitted him and I would yet, if the situation grew dire enough. I do not think I need to remind you that I have served him for years of costumed vigilantism,” Alfred remarks, raising an eyebrow.

Tim nods.

“Nonetheless,” Alfred continues, “if the circumstances were severe enough that I felt him to be beyond his own mental capacity for rational, of a sort, decisions-- if I believed that he was putting himself in needless rather than sacrificial danger, or risked great harm to others for the same reason, I would do everything in my power to stop it. You know I have left before over disagreements, but I am speaking of things more deeply troubling than those. I have a place and the name of a doctor who would aid me.”

In the murky suspension of the manor’s atmosphere, there is a brief moment where it appears as if this news had no effect whatsoever on Tim, but then he does react and Alfred realizes it was fatigue or processing that delayed the response.

Tim puts his head in his hands and exhales, a long and shuddering breath to match the tremor of his back.

“I thought…I was afraid I was a dream,” Tim says into the silence of the kitchen and the patience of Alfred’s company. “I had a dream, or vision, or…you know, I don’t even know what to call it. But Bruce was in Arkham, after Jason. And everything after had been his coping mechanism. Starting with me.”

Alfred knows, because shock is not something that often catches him these days, that perhaps even a small gasp is not the best response to Tim when he is opening up. But it is hard to catch it, to stop himself, when he knows Tim so well.

“But I don’t think he’d let you say that,” Tim rubs at his eyes and yawns, then looks at Alfred. It is the steadiest and most confident he has looked since appearing in the kitchen and as usual, it means that Tim has resolved things inside for himself-- or he wouldn’t be talking about it. It is not that the boy never needs help, it is that he is vague about the ways in which he needs it. Explanations come after, when he is certain of what he says.

“Let me say I’d admit him, against his will?” Alfred asks, to clarify.

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Why would he? If you were made up, why not have you swear to never do it? He didn’t seem very happy. I don’t think he would have. Maybe it’s not that concrete, really, but it’s something, right?”

Alfred knows, because once he was young and stood on the shore of a rocky and frigid ocean, what it is like to have a wave crash over one unexpectedly. And this is that it feels like, to be blown over by Tim’s fear in the same minute that it is already receding-- he barely has time to suck in air against the cold terror of the shock before it is already sucking against the sand and falling back to the choppy sea.

“It is something,” Alfred says.

Tim stands up and stretches; Alfred also rises to his feet. At the head of the kitchen table, he opens his arms, and the weary boy sags against him into a hug so tight Alfred can feel the thudding of his heart, the tension of his tired limbs.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Tim says. “For talking.”

“My dear boy,” Alfred says, his cheek against dark hair, “any time at all. Now go sleep before I have to resort to medicating you.”

“Didn’t you already?” Tim asks, looking suspiciously at the coffee mug as he steps back. “It tasted off.”

“It was decaf,” Alfred says with a slight smile.

“I would have preferred to be drugged, I think,” Tim says scornfully of the mug, with a wry and tired lift of one side of his mouth.

“I thought it was close enough, given the circumstances,” Alfred says, taking the mug up from the table to wash it.

Tim laughs and Alfred thinks again of fairy tales, so clearly does the stress and burden fall away from Tim’s shoulders and frame as he stands and sighs in a relieved, grateful manner.

“Alfred?” he says as Alfred stands at the sink.

“Master Timothy?”

“I’m…is it bad to be a little disappointed, that I’m not a dream?” Tim says and Alfred can hear the frown in his voice. So, not all the burden is gone, apparently.

Alfred knows, because he knows this family and himself, that they are not a family that walks without their burdens in one way or another.

“I mean, if I was a dream, there are a lot of people who didn’t really die.”

“There are a lot of people who didn’t really live, then,” Alfred says, and he gets the distinct impression that Tim has moved beyond actual fear and is purely toying with the theoretical now. He will indulge him if it means the boy will go sleep soon. “I think their lives are worth it, even with loss, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Tim says quietly. “I think it’s all worth it. I don’t know why, but I do.”

“Because it is,” Alfred says with conviction, turning from the running water to look the boy in the face. Tim’s eyes are searching, curious. “It was worth it to know you, Master Timothy. And the others. I would not be here if it were not worth it.”

“I know,” Tim nods, yawning once more. Tim pushes his hair back from his forehead and stops on the threshold between kitchen and hallway. The smile he gives Alfred after is full of confidence and spirit, the same qualities that drove him to the batcave all those years ago. Alfred does not see it often anymore but it is still there, deep inside Tim, always-- Alfred knows this, because he knows Tim.

Tim speaks one more time before going upstairs. The words linger in Alfred’s mind for long after the boy has gone to sleep:

“That’s why I’m here, too.”