#i dithered on where to divide up the second line

[metricalscansion]

x / x x / x / x / x / x

his pussy | was like | a What | aburg | er fryer

x / x / x x / / x / x

and brother | i was | the last | rat | in texas

pentameter (mostly iambs and amphibrachs)

his pussy was like a Whataburger frier. and brother. i was the last rat in texas

[autisticandroids]

okay so. those of you familiar with me know that one of the pieces of #lore i come with is the fact that i'm like. super into the work of spy novelist john le carre. so like. let me tell you a very interesting fact about john le carre's work which you may or may not be able to relate to other media which you enjoy.

so. the protagonists of john le carre's novels are nearly all extremely blatant self-inserts. they share elements of his biography, they share his physical description, they sometimes share similar marital problems (john avery of the looking glass war is a great example of that one. also, le carre's real life first wife, in daily life, went by her middle name, which was... ann. those of you actually familiar with his work have most likely covered your mouths in scandalized shock, though lady ann smiley nee sercombe was apparently based on allison "ann" sharp cornwell in name only. still, if your wife is typing up all your novels for you, i feel like it's a special kind of baffling psychosexual revenge to give her name to a character whose defining trait is her infidelity. especially if you yourself later destroy that marriage by cheating). they even tend to share his academic interests: nearly all of them have a university degree in german language, usually with a focus on poetry. they are also, without fail, totally emasculated and slightly effeminate, and utterly humiliated by these facts.

there are, however, a few exceptions. the protagonist of le carre's most famous novel, the spy who came in from the cold, alec leamas. is very much not a self insert. he's more of a sort of noir protagonist. you get the feeling that le carre was reading a lot of chandler before he wrote spy who. and one of the defining traits that sets leamas apart from le carre's usual self-insert protagonist is that he's masculine. where le carre's usual protagonists have a habit of producing paragraphs of mental dithering and pontificating, leamas is the quintessential man of few words, even in his own head. where le carre's usual protagonists are frequently so shy they are rooted to the spot for fear of embarrassing themselves, leamas is assertive, hostile, and cares nothing for how he's perceived. where le carre's usual protagonists are always slightly embarrassed by their upperclassness, leamas is unapologetically working-class, or working-class-ish (he is described as kind of in-between, but certainly there is a class divide between himself, and, say, smiley, with leamas on the losing end), in a very working-class-ness-as-synecdoche-for-masculinity way.

and this makes him like. a really interesting point of comparison. because it's so clear that leamas is in many ways the ideal that george smiley and john avery and and magnus pym and and and are all castigated by the narrative and most importantly by themselves for not being. so it's interesting to see how le carre defines that.

so, there's this line, from the spy who came in from the cold, that i think about more than any other. it's not leamas' final moments, when he's described as being like an enraged bull. it's not one of jens fiedler's incisive observations about the hypocrisy of the west. it's not liz gold bright-facedly saying she believes in history, or leamas' nihilistic assertion that he doesn't believe the bus will be driven by father christmas. no. it's this:

Leamas, who normally read nothing, read newspapers slowly and with concentration.

when i noticed this line, really paid attention to it, on my second or third readthrough of spy who, it was like a light went on in my head. because this makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. leamas is a spy, and not in the james bond sense. he lives in a wonderland of budget balancing, requests for written permission, and forms filled out in triplicate. he was head of berlin station, which meant that he was an agent runner, yes, but also a paper-pusher extraordinaire. but he struggles to read a newspaper. it was in that moment that i realized that when le carre created leamas, he hadn't created a character. leamas wasn't a man le carre had imagined could ever walk the earth. instead leamas is an emblem of masculinity defined by negative space. he is created not by what he is, but by what he is not.

essentially, when le carre created leamas, he asked himself only one essential question: what is the opposite of me?

how this anecdote relates to the cw's supernatural is left as an exercise for the reader.

[pass-the-bechdel]

Supergirl s02e16 ‘Star Crossed (1)’

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, twice. Barely.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Five (41.66% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Seven.

Positive Content Rating:

Three? I guess.

General Episode Quality:

Nevermind, they’re back to stupid. So, so stupid.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Kara passes with Rhea when they meet. They speak again later. There’s a lot of Mon-El involved both times, but they get there eventually.

Female characters:

Kara Danvers.

Alex Danvers.

Lyra.

Rhea.

Maggie Sawyer.

Male characters:

Mon-El.

J’onn J’onzz.

Winn Schott.

Lar.

James Olsen.

Boris.

Mandrax.

OTHER NOTES:

“To make Daxom great again.” Oh, no.

Ok. That flashback. I have mentioned before, how disturbed I am to find that the original confrontation of Kara’s prejudices towards Daxom have since been shown as actual deserved disdain, and how Daxom being actually exactly as bad as she said (to a caricaturish level) undermines Kara’s supposed lesson as well as treating Krypton as holier-than-thou despite all the huge flaws in its culture that have been made so evident, creating this huge us-vs-them divide with a really clear ‘good side’ and ‘bad side’ and absolutely zero nuance, etc. The flashback to Mon-El’s departure from Daxom as it actually happened does no favours to any aspect of the narrative: Mon-El is shown as hesitant and concerned for the safety of others in defiance of the prevailing Daxomite attitude, because the show is too afraid of the audience backlash if they show him being truly callous instead of just passively allowing it, while at the same time the narrative gives no quarter for Daxom and its people as a whole despite their undeserved fates. We are supposed to see Mon-El’s guard and think him awful, but what do we expect any ‘good’ guard to do? Maybe not kill that one guy, but the rest, with the ignoring everyone else in order to focus on rescuing the person he’s pledged to protect? Even killing the Kryptonian makes sense (is not morally ok, but makes sense) in the context of being exactly the kind of targeted violence that happens in the real world when people are ‘othered’. The coding of the behaviour is so transparent it’s disgusting, and coupled with that not-even-veiled MAGA line just before? Daxom’s Republicans to Krypton’s Democrats is a pretty fucking gross parallel to draw. I am very disappointed in the show for all of this garbage.

Remember when I fucking flagged Lyra as using Winn for her own ends the second she stepped on screen? Fucking flagged it. 

This is a much better Hamilton joke right here than the one a few episodes ago, but that one a few episodes ago was still too much, and that steps on this, because, really? Two sizeable Hamilton gags with only a couple of episodes between them? You’re trying WAY too hard to be current, show. It’s embarrassing.

Uurrrgghhh, and now we’re doing the ‘oh actually Lyra had a good reason for being terrible!’ thing? This shit is so predictable and empty and I am so over it. Remember one episode ago when this show was momentarily good again?

Is Guardian fighting in a fucking glass factory or what? So many glass panes to be thrown through.

So, we pretending that Lyra’s lie and Mon-El’s lie are the same? Just ‘they lied’ is not a parallel, show. These are not comparable situations.

See, Mon-El says in his apology that ‘I was a spoiled, useless person, but I didn’t know’, and that’s a big part of what is making this whole storyline, all season long, so poor. The total lack of nuance in Daxom. The clear-cut morality of Kryptonians which, also, lacks the nuance of reality. If Mon-El was raised in that life, how much opportunity did he have for seeing the flaws in it and recognising them as such? We have no concept of his level of self-awareness, and refusing to allow people room to grow is not how you achieve progress. At the same time, Mon-El’s process of self-improvement on Earth has been so paint-by-numbers simple, it’s hard to take it seriously. If he’s found changing so easy, how entrenched were those ‘spoiled, useless’ teachings that made up his entire formative existence? Real people take years to overcome such things, not least because when it’s a commonplace feature of how you were raised, it’s hard to recognise that there’s even a problem, let alone dismantle the rationale in your own mind that has allowed you to be unthinkingly complicit. Expecting Mon-El to change like flipping a coin is unfair; blaming him for the circumstances of his birth is unfair; telling this story in the way that they have, with his self-awareness and capacity for immediate total overhaul not just of personality but of ideals apparently uninhibited and detailed with only the slightest of backslides? Utterly unrealistic. What should have been a long, hard journey of self-reflection, questioning, and honestly ugly behaviour has instead been casual comic relief and romantic faux pas, and that’s so insulting. I can’t support Mon-El as a character because I can’t support the ill-constructed narrative that made him; in basic terms, he doesn’t make enough sense. He’s too unrealistic to function.

URGH. This is such a fucking mess I am annoyed at myself for even trying to untangle it. That kinda happens when you’re trying to over-simplify your storytelling to this extent: the break from reality is too intense, and you end up with a heap of confusion that your audience can’t figure out how to engage with on a meaningful level. In university, the single most important word I learned was ‘ethnocentricity’ - the belief that your own culture/background is inherently superior to all others. On the surface level, this is plain ol’ racism - and can be many other ‘isms as well, as cultural background shapes our perceptions of gender, sexuality, religion, etc. Looking deeper, we see ethnocentricity manifest when we assume that our social or moral codes are automatically the correct ones, without pausing to question where we got those codes from, and whether or not, actually, there might be better ways to do things. I actually debated this directly, back in 2016 when two Australian men were executed in Indonesia for drug smuggling, and the debate over the morality of the death penalty was rife throughout the country. I’m not going to get into that debate again here, but as an example of ethnocentricism, it was a case in which a lot of Australians flat refused to acknowledge the possibility that just because another country has different laws which conflict with our way of doing things, doesn’t necessarily mean that the people of that country are corrupt, lesser beings with an under-developed sense of morality which we need to step in and correct. Different ways of doing things can be shocking to our sensibilities at first blush, but we have to think about why they are that way and how the backdrop of that logic informs the constructs we see, before we pass high-and-mighty judgment over others. 

Supergirl’s Daxom narrative is a perfect example of ethnocentricism at work, with zero reflection: Kara is right, Mon-El is wrong, this cultural division is all-encompassing and without exception, the end. To be clear: I’m not suggesting that there’s a way to argue for, say, slavery being ok, but what there is is nuance to how people reach such a conclusion, and if we refuse to engage with the nuance we can’t engage with cultural learning, sharing, or understanding, and that’s how you end up with blank hostility instead of working towards more positive futures. Something being ‘obviously morally correct’ is (as evidenced through the entirety of human history) not enough to change systemic issues outright; if it were, the systemic issues wouldn’t have developed in the first place. Supergirl has run into trouble here because it’s trying to be topical, addressing the divisions in current US politics, but it also doesn’t want to actually have a nuanced conversation about the subject, and so instead we get heavy-handed black-and-white morality that only alienates the two sides instead of identifying common ground and building upon it to bridge the gap. Moreover, the show cripples its ability to explore these concepts in a better, more thorough way in the future, because it refuses to commit to the shades of grey in its situation and instead builds a two-camps concept in which any dithering or olive-branching between the two looks like ideological compromise and moral degradation instead of the complicated and painful process of learning that it represents in the real world. 

The truth is that as nice as it is to sit on your moral high horse feeling pure and special while everyone else scrabbles on the muddy ground, you can’t understand the people down below and you certainly can’t help them unless you’re willing to hop down and work through the mud as well, and what use is ideological purity if you’re the only one who benefits from it? That doesn’t mean that we should all start behaving in ways that conflict with our moral compass because, hey, some people are bigots, but it does mean recognising that we are all in a process of self-improvement and if you’re not at least open to the possibility that your way of doing things isn’t the best way, you can’t progress yourself, nor does treating others with condescension help bring them to your way of thinking or at least to a middle ground from which you can proceed together. That’s all a much messier and trickier prospect than what this show wants to deal with, and yet it’s exactly the story they’ve blundered into the middle of with the ridiculous notion that they’re gonna be able to clear-cut their way out. Mon-El’s process should involve a lot of questions: not ‘this thing is correct because obviously it is’ or ‘this thing is correct because Kara says so’, but rather ‘I’m being told that my way is wrong: why? Why is it wrong? Why was I taught that it was right? In what ways has my belief in the correctness of this thing influenced my perceptions of other things? Is it possible that this thing I believe actually is right, and Kara is wrong? Why should her perspective be infallible? What are the consequences of either possibility? Does that jive with the rest of my understanding of the world? What else is altered by this change? Are these alterations also correct?’ and so on, and so on, ad nauseum. Exhausting, repetitive, and complicated, yes, but that’s the reality (not least because he’s supposed to be a literal alien from another planet, but, whatever). At first, I thought it was stupid of them to introduce Mon-El without bothering to spend time on his integration into Earth culture outside of a handful of gimmicks; now I see that it’s much worse than that. I don’t expect this whole arc to end well; I only hope that it ends quickly.

[harbourstarwilling-blog]

The Marauders and the Hollow Hill: Snivellus Snape (6)

James led the way across the still-damp grass, flushed with excitement. Finally, finally, he was going to be able to ride a broom again. He could feel his eye twitching as he was forced to halt when a witch was short white hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Alright!" she barked at them. James could see two rows of brooms laid neatly on the ground behind her; he felt himself grin. Sirius elbowed him hard in the stomach. The witch glanced down at them with her yellow eyes. "I am Madam Hooch - what are you waiting for?" she yelled again, causing the first-years to jump. "Go on, go and stand next to a broom. Hurry up now!"

Quickly, the first-years scurried to find a place next to a broom. James selected the one farthest away from Madam Hooch, a rather sad-looking one with a cracked handle a clumps of twigs missing from the end of it. He stared down at it. "You'd think the school would be able to afford better brooms," he muttered under his breath, turning to look at Sirius. "It doesn't even look like they can get off the ground."

Sirius frowned down at his broom, which looked even more disappointing than James'. "I hope so, or else we'll all look barmy," he muttered.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch was calling near the front of the line. "And say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" the first-years shouted. To James's delight, his leapt into his hand immediately, as did Sirius's. Peter's, however, didn't move at all, and Remus's wriggled pathetically on the ground. He didn't seem that perturbed; he just smiled rather tiredly."I think it knows I'm not that fond of flying," he explained.

Meanwhile, Madam Hooch showed them all how to mount the broom and grip it correctly - James knew he didn't need her help. He wanted to get to the part where they actually flew. He could feel his stomach writhing with excitement as he swung his leg over the side of his broom. Catching Sirius's eye, he grinned.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch sternly. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle!" James gripped the handle of his broom along with the rest of the first years and obeyed; he kicked off the wet grass and made sure to hover a bit longer and a bit higher than everyone else around him. Then they all sank back to the ground - James noticed that the red-haired girl, Evans, was wobbling a bit. He grinned.

"Excellent," barked Madam Hooch. "Now we'll try that again - a bit higher, this time-"

They tried again; James did as he was told. When it was time to descend, however, he rose another three feet in the air and stared down at them all, smirking."Alright, Evans?" he yelled down at the girl, who by now had swung off her broomstick and gone to stand by the pasty, greasy-haired boy James recognized once again as "Snivellus" Snape. Both were glaring up at him like he'd just killed their mum's cat.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch yelled at him. She grew smaller and smaller as James rose higher and higher. "Potter, you get down here this instant!"

James shook his head. Far below he saw Sirius, shielding his eyes from the sun and grinning. "See how high you can go!" he shouted.

"Mr. Black-" scolded Madam Hooch.

"James, maybe you should-" began Peter.

"Potter!" cried Evans angrily over all the hubbub. "You get down here right now, you'll get a detention!

"James snorted. "I'm too good for a detention."

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Hooch screeched. "If you don't get down here right now-"

"You'll get in trouble!" Evans yelled. "You'll get Gryffindor in trouble!"

"Bollocks," James said. He urged his broom higher towards the castle roof.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch and Evans screamed at the same time, but they faded in the wind as it rushed past James' ears, he hollered with triumph as he soared towards Ravenclaw Tower - perhaps he could glimpse a couple little Ravenclaws… or, if he was lucky, even Celia St. Claire…

He glanced through the window and he felt his heart soar. There she was, sitting on a pouf in the Ravenclaw Common Room, deeply immersed in her Herbology textbook. Lightly, he tapped on the glass. She looked up, stunned for a few moments, then (his heart jumped again) waved, blushing furiously. Returning her wave, he decided to impress her, doing a loop-de-loop beside the window. He could hear his fellow first-years gasping from the ground below, but he didn't care. He was safe. He'd done stuff like that a million times.Celia St. Claire was applauding behind the glass. Grinning, he bid her farewell with a jerk of his head and zoomed straight back down towards the ground - he could hear some Gryffindors shrieking - at the very last second, he pulled out of the dive-

Something leapt in front of him, a green and black blur brandishing a wand. "CONFUNDUS!" shouted a voice. Startled, James tried to steer his broom away, but he felt the handle vibrate underneath him - instead of slowing down, it sped up, but it was only inches away from the ground now, and jerking violently, like a bronco trying to buck off his rider.

Thankfully, James kept his head. Forcing his sweaty hands to release the broom handle, he jumped away from it and rolled, coming up on his knees. The broom behind him promptly exploded.

Sirius, who was standing nearby, helped James to his feet. "That was wicked, mate!" 

James grinned.Madam Hooch, meanwhile, was all in a dither. "Now, really!" she yelled. The effect of her voice sent all the first-years stumbling backwards. "The Confundus Charm was unnecessary! A detention, perhaps, might do the trick!" She stared at the first-years with her hawk-like eyes. "Come now! Which one of you did it?"

No one stirred."Bet one Sickle it's Snivellus," James muttered.

"I'm betting Evans - you're on," murmured Sirius, smirking.

Sighing, Madam Hooch whipped out her wand. "I guess there's only one way to solve this - Prior Incantato!" She yelled, waving her wand over the crowd of frightened first-years. Gasping and shrieking, they tried to evade the spell, but it appeared to do nothing; that is, until the wand of an unsuspecting Slytherin was yanked out of his pocket and zoomed into Madam Hooch's hand.

"Aha!" she shouted. "Mr. Snape, is it?"

Snape nodded, apparently emotionless."Well, this will be your first detention at Hogwarts won't it?" Snape nodded sullenly. James stifled a laugh - Madam Hooch's head snapped around to look at him. "The same goes for you, Mr. Potter!" Then she cast her eyes over the rest of her class, who looked nervous and surprisingly shrunken. "Well, what are you all looking at?" Madam Hooch barked. "Class dismissed!"

The first-years anxiously gathered up their things and made their way back up to the castle. Remus and Peter fell in pace with James and Sirius at the back of the group."I can't believe you've gone and landed yourself in detention," Peter groaned.

"Just like Lily said you would," Remus said, shaking his head.

James elbowed him in the ribs. "Already on a first name basis, eh? You in love, Remus?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "I am not. You're telling me you're not upset you got a detention?"

James grinned. "Don't try to change the subject. Nah, I don't mind. But Sirius owes me a Sickle now, don't you, mate?"

"Can't believe it," Sirius said, pretending to look solemn.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Snape enter the castle, walking in a way that reminded James of a spider. Peter followed his gaze."Who do you reckon he is, then?" he asked, looking after Snape.

Sirius laughed humorlessly. "That's Snivellus. Snivellus Snape."

"He's odd," Remus muttered, frowning. "I reckon he's lonely. Doesn't have many friends, does he?"

"He hangs out with Evans," Peter pointed out."Lads, he nearly killed James," Sirius said loudly.

"He couldn't kill me if he tried," James said scornfully. And without another word, he rushed ahead of them and back into the castle.

The next few days passed without incident. Lessons were almost always the same as the ones previous them; James found himself getting extremely bored and glancing up at the clock every five seconds. The only class he really liked that that had was Charms - he was absolutely rubbish at Potions and despised History of Magic, Astronomy was okay (Sirius was surprisingly enthusiastic about it), and he didn't even try in Herbology. Defense Against the Dark Arts was an entirely different story. He absolutely loathed it… perhaps he hated the teacher even more. Professor Lancaster was (if possible) even worse than his son. He was round-faced and thick-necked, like Martin, but he was surprisingly thin-mouthed, and had a hoarse, croaky voice that sounded somewhat like a frog that had a head cold. Most of the time, Lancaster paced the front of the room, lecturing them about curses and hexes while they took notes, tense and alert, like they were expecting someone to creep up behind them and whack them. Sometimes they divided into pairs and attempted simple charms and jinxes on each other, but not often. But Professor Lancaster docked Gryffindor points every class, and blamed Sirius for every point taken. He also seemed to insult Sirius every chance he got, and constantly mentioned the Blacks and their "honourable pure-blood heritage." Then he would glance at Sirius, obviously disgusted, and would continue with the lesson as if nothing had happened.

Thankfully, the rest of Gryffindor House had the same view of Professor Lancaster, with the exception of Martin and his cronies. To James's great surprise, Martin had more people on his side than James had thought he would. Not only had he swayed his roommates, but the whole of Slytherin House, though Sirius claimed they had always thought that way in the same place.

"But not all Slytherins can be bad," James remembered Peter muttering during one uneventful Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Remus actually stopped taking notes and turned to look at them, which was a great achievement, seeing as Remus was the only one of them who would pay attention during lessons. "He's right, isn't he?" he mused. "You can't just create a stereotype based off a few people you know, can you?"

"You don't know them," Sirius had murmured darkly.

"Mr. Black!" Professor Lancaster had snarled. "Is there something you'd like to share with all of us?" Sirius had raised his head and opened his mouth, but Lancaster continued before Sirius even had time to speak. "That's another five points from Gryffindor."

Sirius had sunk even lower in his seat. "You see?" he had whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Despite all of this, James found himself enjoying Hogwarts. He found the classes easy, even without paying attention, and he found learning the magic easier. He liked his dormitory, the meals they served in the Great Hall… he even grew fond of the moving staircases, which lurched every time they moved and had a tendency to make James fall over. Everything was almost perfect.

"When'd you think they'll let us try out for Quidditch?" said James as he swung his legs over the arm of a chair in the Gryffindor common room. It was late on a Friday; their first week finished at Hogwarts. But somehow they had managed to acquire a heavy load of homework to finish over the weekend - Remus had decided to get a head start on it. He was lying on his stomach in front of the fireplace, adjusting his reading glasses on his nose as he leaned further and further in towards his book. Sirius sat in the chair opposite James, shirt untucked and arm draped over the back of the chair. Peter, meanwhile, was sitting on the floor in between them, going through James's extensive collection of Chocolate Frogs, bleary-eyed.

"You know, I don't think first-years get to play Quidditch," said Peter, yawning. He shuffled through a few more cards. "How many Agrippa cards do you have? I swear I've counted at least fifty so far-"

James groaned loudly. "What? What about… ugh." He rolled his eyes. "I saw the Gryffindor Quidditch team practicing this morning."

"Yeah?" Sirius smirked at James. "And what do you reckon?"

James snorted. "I reckon they're rubbish."

Peter glanced up at them, eyes swiveling back and forth between James and Sirius. "Really? Are they that bad?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes," James said with an air of finality. "I even spoke to Ayres about it afterwards-"

"Ayres?" interrupted Sirius frowning. "He's the Captain of the Gryffindor Team, isn't he?"

"Yeah," nodded James. "I told him that his team wasn't aligning properly: there are a bunch of holes in their Advance Formation, the Chasers must be blind or something -"

Remus spoke up suddenly from his place on the floor. "Now, I don't know much about Quidditch," he said quietly, not bothering to take his eyes off of his book. "But I imagine Ayres wasn't too chuffed about that, was he?"

"No, he wasn't!" said James angrily. "He chucked me off the field, in fact!" Frustrated, he punched the chair, his tight fist sinking deep into the plush material. "I can't wait until I get into Quidditch… I'll outplay them all, the-"

"Shall we go to bed?" said Peter hastily. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Remus smile a little.

"No," scoffed Sirius, flipping his long dark hair out of his eyes. "It's barely ten -"

"And it's our first Friday at Hogwarts!" James added, glancing at Sirius out of the corner of his eye. Sirius grinned.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Whatever you guys are planning, I'll not be involved."

Sirius pretended to look shocked. "Why, Remus! What would ever make you think something like that?"

Remus rolled his eyes and pulled his glasses off his face, neatly folding them up and putting them in his pocket. "Well, I agree with Peter - I'm turning in… I'm finished."

"Finished?" James felt his mouth fall open. "With all of it?"

"The summary on wormwood isn't that hard James, I don't know why you were complaining so much about it - all you have to do is take notes on the chapter and look up it's properties in the index-"

"Alright, alright!" shouted Sirius, clamping his hands over his ears. "We've heard enough, we'll do it tomorrow. Happy?"

Remus smirked at them as he got to his feet; James noticed that he was shaking a little. "Right." And he disappeared up to the staircase leading towards the boys' dormitories. Peter was quick to follow, still clutching James's Chocolate Frog Cards.

Sirius glanced over at James again. "What do you reckon?" he asked quietly.

His inquiry took James by surprise. "What?"

Sirius jerked his head towards the staircase that Remus and Peter had ascended. "What do you think of them? You reckon they're decent?"

James stared at Sirius. It was an odd question to ask, seeing as Sirius had already seemed to have grown fond of both Remus and Peter. "Um… sure. Why?"

"Just wondering if you thought the same as I did," said Sirius, grinning forcibly. "I reckon they're good. Wouldn't have stuck with me this far if they weren't, would they?"

James frowned at him. "What do you mean?" Then something clicked in his brain, and a fresh wave of frustration seemed to flow from his head down to his toes. "If this is about you being a Black-"

Sirius went red. "No, of course not-"

"Sirius, how long will it take for you to get it?" said James, gazing right at him. "I don't care if you're a Black - I don't think Remus or Peter cares either… you're decent, all right?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'm decent. Now I feel special."

James threw a pillow at him, and it smacked Sirius right in the face, who fell over laughing.

The weekend seemed to flash by, and James was soon wishing that he had done all his homework on Friday evening with Remus. It wasn't long before he and Sirius were sprawled down on the floor of the Common Room, scribbling randomly about bezoars and asphodel on long pieces of parchment on a cool Sunday evening. Peter, who had managed to finish all of his homework the previous afternoon, was anxiously checking his essay against James and Sirius's. Remus stood over them all, already in his pajamas, helping them when he could.

Nonetheless, James woke up the next morning grumpy and irritated. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed to be more energetic and enthusiastic than ever. Finally, he had seemed to accept the fact that none of his new friends cared the slightest bit about his heritage whatsoever.

"Can't wait for this afternoon." Sirius had said at breakfast as he poured ketchup over his sausages.

Peter frowned at him. "Why?"

"We have Potions with the Slytherins," replied Sirius happily. "Those wazzocks, they'll fail at everything, the stupid -"

"Actually -" Remus murmured, looking paler than usual. "We have Transformation with them in the morning…" He frowned a little, staring vaguely with the ceiling. "At least, I think we do."

It turned out that Remus was right. In fact, they had Transfiguration right after breakfast, and they were very nearly late. Flushed and panting, they seated themselves in tables at the back of the room, heaving their thick leather-bound books onto the desks. James squinted at it; he hadn't really bothered to look in his textbooks yet.

"A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, by Emeric Switch," he read, opening the book excitedly. "Wow! Look at all this!..." He practically dove into the book. The whole thing seemed very simple to him, a thought and an incantation, and you could change anything into… anything. James flipped through the book hastily, scanning the text, examining the illustrations. One of his favourites depicted a fabulously multi-coloured bird changing into a silver goblet.

Sirius, meanwhile, was tipping his chair back on two legs. "Wonder where the teacher is," he mumbled. "Who's our professor anyways?"

Suddenly, there was a loud noise up near the front of the classroom; someone was clearing their throat. Startled, Sirius almost tumbled out of his chair, while James looked up so fast he cricked his neck. Standing behind the large oaken desk in the front of the room stood the same witch that had placed the Sorting Hat on their heads - McGonagall, James thought. She looked ever the same: rather severe-looking, with a black pointed hat and square spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She stared down at them without the slightest shadow of a smile.

"As you all know, I am Professor McGonagall," she stated obviously. "And I will be your Transfiguration teacher during your time at Hogwarts."

James's hand shot up before he even realized it; McGonagall turned towards him, eyebrows raised. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

So she had a good memory. "What kind of stuff will we be transfiguring?" he asked eagerly.

"All kinds of 'stuff,' as you put it, Mr. Potter," replied McGonagall. James thought he saw her smirk a little. He watched her flick her wand - instantly, a lot of long, complicated notes appeared on the blackboard in front of the classroom. "Now, if you would… please copy these down…"

To James's extreme disappointment, the class wasn't nearly as fun as he had anticipated. After slowly copying all the notes from the board onto parchment, McGonagall handed them each a match and told them to try to turn it into a needle. James, to his immense surprise, managed to transform his match on the first try. McGonagall actually smiled and held up his needle for everyone to see - he saw the pale, greasy-haired boy he had met on the train scowl at him and wave his wand over his match; it promptly flew six feet into the air and exploded.

"I think McGonagall's taken a shine to you, James!" chuckled Peter as they left the Transfiguration classroom. Indeed she had seemed to, as she had gone on a ten-minute rant about how particularly talented and lucky James was, how a natural ability to transfigure was very uncommon, and how she looked forward to seeing him more in her class.

"Have you always been able to transfigure things easily, James?" Remus asked, leading the way down the moving staircase.

James frowned. "Well… not always. I turned my mum's wand into a giant slug once - it's not that funny," he added when Sirius sniggered. "I'm pretty sure my wand has something to do with it too… at least, that's what Ollivander said… he said mahogany's real good for Transfiguration…" He glanced down at it as he spoke, clutched tightly in his fist. "Anyways… what do we have next?"

"Potions," said Sirius immediately. "With the Slytherins, we're with them all afternoon."

"Joy," muttered Remus unenthusiastically.

Soon, they arrived at the Potions classroom, which was located in the lowest part of the castle - the dungeons. It was much colder there than the other rooms in Hogwarts, and seemed much more foul. It was dank and dark and multicolored blobs floated in jars on shelves. Thankfully, having had Potions five times the previous week, they were practically used to it. Their professor was already standing there - Horace Slughorn, red-cheeked, big-bellied, and beaming - despite the temperature.

"I can't wait to see this place in winter," murmured Sirius as he set up his cauldron.

"Welcome back!" Slughorn announced, grinning at them. "We'll be continuing to brew the Forgetfulness Potion today - your samples from last week are here on my desk, they'll need to stew for another ten minutes, and they still need sprigs of lavender and some dragon blood… well." His smile widened. "You'll find all the instructions in your books. Let the brewing commence!"

James rolled his eyes. "Who do you reckon will be his favourite today, Sirius?"

Sirius pretended to be concentrating and counted off people on his fingers. "Evans, Maddox… Lancaster," he added, making a face. "They don't really change, do they?"

"No," agreed James, retrieving his sample from Slughorn's desk and dumping it into his cauldron. Furtively, he lit a fire underneath it and glanced anxiously into his cauldron. "Remus?"

"Mmm?" said Remus vaguely, staring down into his Potions book.

"Is it supposed to be red?"

James grinned as Remus whipped around, and enjoyed watching his face turn the same shade of bright scarlet that the potion had turned, although he wished it had been shooting sparks and emitting a high-pitched whistling noise like the potion was.

Slughorn, to James's disappointment, hurried over. "Evanesco!" he yelled, and the potion vanished. "My dear boy, what happened?" Slughorn puffed, straightening his hat on his balding head. "Did you add the Tentacula Leaves? Because you are supposed to wait at least five minutes before-"

"Professor!" someone called from the other end of the classroom. Standing behind a simmering cauldron was the red-haired girl - Evans, James thought - and the bat-like, greasy-haired boy James had seen in Transformation. Snivellus, remembered James, smirking. From the train. "Professor!" Evans called again, waving her hand in the air. "I think we've got it; can you come take a look?"

Slughorn rushed over there so fast he might've be magicked by a Summoning Charm. But as he peered into their cauldron, James saw his face light up with delight. "My, my! This is absolutely perfect - the fumes are strong… I can feel myself forgetting what I had for breakfast this very morning!" He chuckled at his own joke. "Everyone! Come here! Look, Miss Evans and Mr. Snape have done it!"

The effect was almost immediate. In an instant, the whole of the class had gathered around Evans and Snape's cauldron, staring down at the potion. Professor Slughorn was still congratulating them, finally declaring that they had gained a well-earned ten points for both their Houses. James felt something hot like jealousy flare up in the bottom of his stomach. Thankfully, Sirius had stayed by his side. "They shouldn't have gotten points for that," he groaned. "I can't wait to see their smug little faces this next class."

James was a little alarmed. "Why?"

Sirius grinned over at him. "Quidditch."

Promptly, the stinging jealous feeling in his stomach disappeared, and he felt himself grin along with Sirius. He had been playing Quidditch practically all his life, riding a broom was almost second nature to James. Of course, being a first year, he'd been forced to leave his broomstick back in his trunk at home, but James felt like he would give anything to feel that wonderful, thrilling feeling he always got in his chest whenever he rode a broomstick.

He couldn't wait for the next class. Even if it was with the Slytherins.

James led the way across the still-damp grass, flushed with excitement. Finally, finally, he was going to be able to ride a broom again. He could feel his eye twitching as he was forced to halt when a witch was short white hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Alright!" she barked at them. James could see two rows of brooms laid neatly on the ground behind her; he felt himself grin. Sirius elbowed him hard in the stomach. The witch glanced down at them with her yellow eyes. "I am Madam Hooch - what are you waiting for?" she yelled again, causing the first-years to jump. "Go on, go and stand next to a broom. Hurry up now!"

Quickly, the first-years scurried to find a place next to a broom. James selected the one farthest away from Madam Hooch, a rather sad-looking one with a cracked handle a clumps of twigs missing from the end of it. He stared down at it. "You'd think the school would be able to afford better brooms," he muttered under his breath, turning to look at Sirius. "It doesn't even look like they can get off the ground."

Sirius frowned down at his broom, which looked even more disappointing than James'. "I hope so, or else we'll all look barmy," he muttered.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch was calling near the front of the line. "And say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" the first-years shouted. To James's delight, his leapt into his hand immediately, as did Sirius's. Peter's, however, didn't move at all, and Remus's wriggled pathetically on the ground. He didn't seem that perturbed; he just smiled rather tiredly.

"I think it knows I'm not that fond of flying," he explained.

Meanwhile, Madam Hooch showed them all how to mount the broom and grip it correctly - James knew he didn't need her help. He wanted to get to the part where they actually flew. He could feel his stomach writhing with excitement as he swung his leg over the side of his broom. Catching Sirius's eye, he grinned.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch sternly. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle!" James gripped the handle of his broom along with the rest of the first years and obeyed; he kicked off the wet grass and made sure to hover a bit longer and a bit higher than everyone else around him. Then they all sank back to the ground - James noticed that the red-haired girl, Evans, was wobbling a bit. He grinned.

"Excellent," barked Madam Hooch. "Now we'll try that again - a bit higher, this time-"

They tried again; James did as he was told. When it was time to descend, however, he rose another three feet in the air and stared down at them all, smirking.

"Alright, Evans?" he yelled down at the girl, who by now had swung off her broomstick and gone to stand by the pasty, greasy-haired boy James recognized once again as "Snivellus" Snape. Both were glaring up at him like he'd just killed their mum's cat.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch yelled at him. She grew smaller and smaller as James rose higher and higher. "Potter, you get down here this instant!"

James shook his head. Far below he saw Sirius, shielding his eyes from the sun and grinning. "See how high you can go!" he shouted.

"Mr. Black-" scolded Madam Hooch.

"James, maybe you should-" began Peter.

"Potter!" cried Evans angrily over all the hubbub. "You get down here right now, you'll get a detention!"

James snorted. "I'm too good for a detention."

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Hooch screeched. "If you don't get down here right now-"

"You'll get in trouble!" Evans yelled. "You'll get Gryffindor in trouble!"

"Bollocks," James said. He urged his broom higher towards the castle roof.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch and Evans screamed at the same time, but they faded in the wind as it rushed past James' ears, he hollered with triumph as he soared towards Ravenclaw Tower - perhaps he could glimpse a couple little Ravenclaws… or, if he was lucky, even Celia St. Claire…

He glanced through the window and he felt his heart soar. There she was, sitting on a pouf in the Ravenclaw Common Room, deeply immersed in her Herbology textbook. Lightly, he tapped on the glass. She looked up, stunned for a few moments, then (his heart jumped again) waved, blushing furiously. Returning her wave, he decided to impress her, doing a loop-de-loop beside the window. He could hear his fellow first-years gasping from the ground below, but he didn't care. He was safe. He'd done stuff like that a million times.

Celia St. Claire was applauding behind the glass. Grinning, he bid her farewell with a jerk of his head and zoomed straight back down towards the ground - he could hear some Gryffindors shrieking - at the very last second, he pulled out of the dive-

Something leapt in front of him, a green and black blur brandishing a wand. "CONFUNDUS!" shouted a voice. Startled, James tried to steer his broom away, but he felt the handle vibrate underneath him - instead of slowing down, it sped up, but it was only inches away from the ground now, and jerking violently, like a bronco trying to buck off his rider.

Thankfully, James kept his head. Forcing his sweaty hands to release the broom handle, he jumped away from it and rolled, coming up on his knees. The broom behind him promptly exploded.

Sirius, who was standing nearby, helped James to his feet. "That was wicked, mate!"

James grinned.

Madam Hooch, meanwhile, was all in a dither. "Now, really!" she yelled. The effect of her voice sent all the first-years stumbling backwards. "The Confundus Charm was unnecessary! A detention, perhaps, might do the trick!" She stared at the first-years with her hawk-like eyes. "Come now! Which one of you did it?"

No one stirred.

"Bet one Sickle it's Snivellus," James muttered.

"I'm betting Evans - you're on," murmured Sirius, smirking.

Sighing, Madam Hooch whipped out her wand. "I guess there's only one way to solve this - Prior Incantato!" She yelled, waving her wand over the crowd of frightened first-years. Gasping and shrieking, they tried to evade the spell, but it appeared to do nothing; that is, until the wand of an unsuspecting Slytherin was yanked out of his pocket and zoomed into Madam Hooch's hand.

"Aha!" she shouted. "Mr. Snape, is it?"

Snape nodded, apparently emotionless.

"Well, this will be your first detention at Hogwarts won't it?" Snape nodded sullenly. James stifled a laugh - Madam Hooch's head snapped around to look at him. "The same goes for you, Mr. Potter!" Then she cast her eyes over the rest of her class, who looked nervous and surprisingly shrunken. "Well, what are you all looking at?" Madam Hooch barked. "Class dismissed!"

The first-years anxiously gathered up their things and made their way back up to the castle. Remus and Peter fell in pace with James and Sirius at the back of the group.

"I can't believe you've gone and landed yourself in detention," Peter groaned.

"Just like Lily said you would," Remus said, shaking his head.

James elbowed him in the ribs. "Already on a first name basis, eh? You in love, Remus?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "I am not. You're telling me you're not upset you got a detention?"

James grinned. "Don't try to change the subject. Nah, I don't mind. But Sirius owes me a Sickle now, don't you, mate?"

"Can't believe it," Sirius said, pretending to look solemn.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Snape enter the castle, walking in a way that reminded James of a spider. Peter followed his gaze.

"Who do you reckon he is, then?" he asked, looking after Snape.

Sirius laughed humorlessly. "That's Snivellus. Snivellus Snape."

"He's odd," Remus muttered, frowning. "I reckon he's lonely. Doesn't have many friends, does he?"

"He hangs out with Evans," Peter pointed out.

"Lads, he nearly killed James," Sirius said loudly.

"He couldn't kill me if he tried," James said scornfully. And without another word, he rushed ahead of them and back into the castle.

[treemist5]

Theresa May and Chequers will both survive their rivals

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We need to talk about Chequers.

UK prime minister Theresa May’s proposal for post-Brexit relations with the EU has been declared dead almost since the day it was born. Much of the Conservative party will no doubt try to bury it at its conference next week. And yet I think it stands a good chance of growing into something that will defeat all the alternative models.

Ask yourselves this: if a group is completely polarised around two diametrically opposite positions, what is more politically sustainable? Either one of the two extremes, or something that splits the difference? In the British context, the extremes are, first, no Brexit at all or “Brexit in name only” (the Norway model plus a customs union), and, second, a plain free trade agreement that ends all single market benefits and reintroduces barriers to trade between the EU and the UK and between Great Britain and Northern Ireland. The compromise option is something along the lines of the Chequers plan, which, to put it mildly, is nobody’s first choice (except perhaps the prime minister’s).

By definition, polarised opinion means the middle road has no supporters. But each extreme has half the population passionately set against it. Either outcome risks aggravating the already deep divides, even if it is backed by a narrow majority (which is all it would be) in a second referendum. (In his latest Brexit Briefing, my colleague Tony Barber rehearses reasons why a second referendum could be politically toxic.)

The best that can be hoped for in terms of political harmony might be an indefinite grumbling truce, and the only option with any chance of achieving that is something like May’s split-the-difference approach. “Nobody likes it” may be true, but that is irrelevant to either the desirability of Chequers or its prospect of prevailing. That prospect depends overwhelmingly on whether something like it could emerge as an agreement between the UK government and the EU.

There is obviously no such agreement today. The UK says it will not change the plan further; the EU says it would undermine the integrity of the EU’s single market. But both notions — “the Chequers plan” and “undermining the integrity” — contain many things. Unwrap them, and an agreement could be possible.

What, exactly, is the essence of Chequers, and what is dispensable? Where, in other words, can May yield once she has got through her party conference (if she is still in office then)? It has at least three components: the hybrid customs arrangement in which the UK would supposedly charge different tariffs (its own and those of the EU) depending on where an import ended up; a common rule book that the UK hopes to still have some freedom to follow or not; and the conceptual notion of frictionless trade in goods. Of these three, it is the last one May emphasises the most, such as in Salzburg where she rightly said there was “no solution that resolves the Irish border [question] which is not based on the frictionless movement of goods”. If she prioritises Northern Ireland and the UK union over new trade deals, and industry supply chains over the City of London, she will move on the first two in order to get agreement on the last one.

If so, it would go a long way to address the EU’s concern. The integrity of the single market can mean many things; each is threatened by some element of Chequers. The smuggling the British customs ideas would lead to undermines it. The common rule book risks being too narrow and too static to prevent a divergence in rules for goods production and an unlevel competitive playing field between the UK and the EU. And limiting the authority of the European Court of Justice undermines the integrity of the single market’s judicial order.

All that is before we get to the question of whether borderless trading in goods unacceptably “separates the four freedoms”. By not satisfying EU concerns on those prior issues, British dithering has allowed the EU side not to engage in whether frictionless trade is desirable and achievable in some way.

But what if Britain accepts these concerns, and updates Chequers accordingly? Chequers 2.0 would include a customs union in all but name, perhaps as an indefinite arrangement with a promise of periodical non-committal reviews of technological alternatives. It would also widen the scope of the common rule book, to include not just everything touching on the production or trading of goods but environmental, social and labour rules where the UK’s temptation to undercut European standards is a legitimate concern. And, finally, it would accept dynamically aligning with EU rule changes and European court jurisdiction in the same way Norway does, though for a narrower set of rules. 

Can May go that far? She will no doubt lose a few more ministers if she does. But so what? If she gets through the Tory conference, threats to her leadership will recede as Brexit talks get down to the wire, and the party itself will matter less and less. What will matter is what she can bring home from Brussels, and whether she can get it through parliament. 

If May proposed this sort of Chequers 2.0, the EU would at least have to look seriously at whether it can consider the notion of frictionless trade in goods with a third country, one committed to staying within the EU’s regulatory and customs orbit. It is, in many ways, a logical development of the EU’s negotiating goals in conventional free trade treaties. European Commission president Jean-Claude Juncker said in his recent state of the union speech: “We agree with the statement made in Chequers that the starting point for [an ambitious] partnership should be a free trade area between the UK and the EU.” Note: a “free trade area” as set out in Chequers.

If May brought such a deal home, would parliament pass it? The Brexit ultras would, of course, oppose it. But the Northern Irish MPs may well find that it solves all their problems. And the biggest twist this week came with this line in Jeremy Corbyn’s speech to the Labour conference: “If you deliver a deal that includes a customs union and no hard border in Ireland, if you protect jobs, people’s rights at work and environmental and consumer standards — then we will support that sensible deal.” And these changes that might swing Labour behind May’s plan are just the ones needed for the EU to warm to it too.

Much has to happen in the first two weeks of October for this scenario to unfold. But the stars are becoming more, not less, aligned.

Source: https://www.ft.com/content/0b6659a8-c244-11e8-8d55-54197280d3f7

[thisisevenharderthannamingablog]

6.11 Tougher Than the Rest

On the one hand, I missed their faces so much.

On the other, thank God that’s over with. Heaps o’salt below the cut.

In the past: Heartbreakingly small Emma is on the street, where she burns pages from a fairy tale for warmth.

August shows up and convinces her not to burn The Ugly Duckling, talks about the story with her, and eventually gets her to go find the Minneapolis social services office, where she identifies herself as Emma Swan.

Another mystery solved, another bit of fanon dismantled, nothing of interest added to the story.

In the wish realm: Robin demands jewelry, then runs off when Henry and a force of knights thunder through, searching for the Evil Queen.

Emma and Regina hide. Emma has the idea that they might get to Storybrooke the same way she did as a baby: by using an enchanted tree. Gepetto has passed away in this world, but August has his enchanted chisel, and is willing to try to make a portal for Emma. He also made this wooden swan for her birthday, for, uh, no particular reason. Meanwhile, Regina talks with wish!Robin.

Delays and setbacks and August’s loss of faith force us to dawdle through the middle of this episode, but finally the carving happens, the portal works, and Emma convinces Regina to bring not!Robin back to Storybrooke because what the hell, with enough faith it MIGHT work out okay, right?

Emma, I love you, but what happened last time you brought someone who was supposed to be dead back from another reality?

(In case you wondered - yep, still bitter.)

In Storybrooke: AKA the only part of the episode that actually matters. Charming searches for the Hooded Figure, blaming himself for bringing Emma’s fated killer to town; he refuses to wake Snow until this is dealt with. Killian tries to talk him down, but even the patented Jones Shoulder Clasp of True Broship fails to dissuade David from his course.

Gideon talks to his parents. He has lived 28 years in the Black Fairy’s realm; visual flashes suggest that he did not have a good time there. She tried to turn him evil, which he insists did not work, but he also says that he has to kill Emma in order to become a Savior and free the Fairy realm from his evil grandma’s rule. Gideon then goes off to brood in the rain. Rumple tries to goad him into attacking him -- as an attempt to gauge whether he really is evil, it seems. Gideon’s right glove glows mysteriously, but Gideon poofs off to be sullen elsewhere. (This was probably the best scene in the episode.)  

Belle finds David and Hook, and explains to them about Gideon’s unusual-even-for-these parts history. Rumple has gone to find their son, although whether to help him or stop him is anyone’s guess. She secures David’s agreement that killing Gideon won’t be the first thing they try.

Emma returns to town ahead of Regina, has another vision, and is met by Gideon for their fated duel. All happens as foreseen, sword poof, hand shaking, etc., except that a) we can see his face and b) at the last moment, she is able to use her power after all, taking control of her own fate. The sword breaks. I guess they don’t make ’em like they used to.

There’s a brief bit with August, who is writing something relating to Pleasure Island, and Rumple and Belle have a chat about their son by the wishing well. Gideon relocates his brooding to the clock tower.

Parallels: There’s a flashback to when Tinkerbelle brings Regina to the tavern. Although Robin’s forearms are bare when the scene begins, he covers them during the dialog, and it is not shown whether or not this Robin has the tattoo. (Also, what even is the lighting in this shot? It this supposed to be daylight?)

Rumple draws an explicit parallel between his own childhood and his resentment of his father, and Gideon’s situation.

Robin gives Regina his lucky feather, an analog to the one Zelena lost in Storybrooke. The whole find him/fail/surprise success seems like it’s intended to echo Emma and Killian’s 5b -- except this is not Robin restored, but a totally different person with some shared history, so we’ll see how that works out.

Golly gee, look at the time.

Wardrobe Department:

BTW, whose idea was it that Emma has to spend the entire episode hauling an unsheathed sword around? Would it have killed somebody in wardobe to find a scabbard?

I note that Rumple is no longer in black on black on black on black, but has added a touch of blue, a color generally indicating goodness.

EF Rumple is still my favorite Rumple, though.

In Hindsight: We’ll start with a thing I genuinely liked about this episode, that Emma still doesn’t grasp her own nature. When she describes being a Savior as protecting people, she’s only half-right. The more important part is her faith that uplifts other people, in this case August.

I also enjoyed Robin’s, “Why the hell would I do that?” line. Also, for further consideration, the bit where he notes that “she died before we could marry” and “I haven’t been happy in a very long time” does not at all seem to me as if it should lead to Regina’s conclusion, “you never had love” -- quite the opposite.

Aside from that, this episode was a goddamn embarrassment to the entire concept of professional television writing. At least it finished off the wish-realm excursion, about which I hope we are never going to talk again in canon, because it was the laziest waste of two hours of audience time that I have ever personally witnessed on a screen.

The pacing was horrendous. So much padding, so little actually happening, so little no attention paid to time passing -- Regina writes a page-long letter in five seconds, but even with a magic chisel, cutting down, transporting, and carving that tree should have taken what, at least a day? During which she and Robin never showed up? It’s useless to even try to guess how much time passes in Storybrooke in the meantime. 

The flashback was pointless. It added nothing new or even interesting in terms of background (unless making Emma’s story EVEN MORE TRAUMATIC can be considered new). The audience does not need to be hit over the head with the ugly duckling. It has been implicit in Emma’s story since the Pilot episode. What the fuck else has this series been about but the skeptical loner fuck-up growing up to be a magical princess beloved by many? Six years into this show, an episode that signposts the power of believing in yourself is frankly an insult to the viewers. You have been showing us this for years now; you don’t need to fucking TELL us.

Ugh, why.

Even JMo’s luminous beauty cannot save this.

August does not inspire the kind of towering rage in me that Neal does, but neither did he need to be brought back again, ever, at all, and certainly not like this. Attempts to rehabilitate his character away from the selfish asshole they introduced in S1 will never be anything but clumsy and grating to me -- and also unnecessary, therefore a waste of time. It’s not like he’s going to be so pivotal going forward that a friendship with Emma needs to be underlined for the sake of the story. That he tried to be a halfway decent kid that one time just makes it worse that he turned out the way he did. August is a smug, selfish asshole who needs to be punched in the smirk, and that’s not actually a problem, because he’s also a minor character. The audience doesn’t have to LIKE him for him to be occasionally useful to the story, and neither does Emma, so please just stop.

As a unit, these two episodes continued the most frustrating thing about the mid-season thus far, which is that absolutely everything seems to be treading water. Ever since the Snowing curse, plot movement has been glacial to nonexistent. They spend episodes dithering over on magic items that amount to nothing. The whole Gold/EQ relationship was a non-starter, affecting nothing in the long term. I like Bex, but she’s drawing a paycheck for doing nothing useful in this story to date.

And now they introduce a whole alternate world and are careful to make clear that nothing that happens in it has any consequences, making it clear that the sole point of the whole laborious excursion was to bring not!Robin to Storybrooke. Why they wanted that is still a mystery, but couldn’t they leave the rest of the characters out of it? I was even offended on RUMPLE’S behalf, that’s how bad the wish!verse was. You can’t tell me that any version of him would treat Belle’s remains cavalierly (not even for the sake of theater, his other true love).

Fuck, I’m offended for Gepetto. Magic chisel, ffs.  

If Robin was the only point, they might as well have left the rest of the characters out of it and gotten on with the Gideon stuff. Although, and no offense to Giles, I simply cannot take Gideon seriously as a threatening character. He’s too cute.

I was however intrigued by the divided frame, as Rumple and Belle discuss choices and how to help their son.

Here’s hoping things will trend up from here.