#the vulnerability with which the characters' trauma is displayed is more painful than any fictional tragedy

[mcmoth]

The thing that makes Dream SMP so horrific isn't the sheer scale of it's angst. There have been children's shows with a bigger death toll by thousands and even millions, like Steven Universe with it's themes of breaking free from an exploitative system through war that showcased suffering spanning galaxies wide, or Adventure time where it's entire basis of history is that their world is the remnants of an apocalypse, or as with Gravity Falls, where the whole fabric of reality would have been transformed to a nightmare if it hadn't been for the bonds between one rag tag family, etc. No, the pain in Dream SMP isn't grand, and that makes it all the more difficult to stomach.

Because instead of the main villain being some chaos entity from space that slaughtered numerous lives, it's that friend that acted like an older brother and laughed over the most stupid of jokes and fought with you over the most useless, mundane of things, before he turned around and started slipping further and further into his god complex until the only thing he lived for anymore was the enjoyment and fascination he took in your suffering.

And that authority figure you need to take down for their unethical management of the system is not some lackey or world leader who you only know by their title and evil deeds, no, it's that man that gave everyone pumpkin pie and promised you he could give you a home when everyone else had left you in the dirt and who told you how sad he was to see you frown and giggled over your valentines confession and created a whole sentient machine to help you combat your mental health struggles and build you a place where you could actually feel safe, only for him to fall to repeating the same torturous abuse on others that he swore he would protect them from.

Oh, and that otherworldly entity, beyond the veil of your mortal world, that wishes you to join them in their eternal game outside your reality, that knows the secrets of the universe, including it's end? What if that was once just your brother that played guitar, and your father that smothered you in affection, and your leader that tried to lead your close knit group to freedom and prosperity with diplomatic words, and stood as bait in the range of fire, unprotected, when it came to battle, and cried under closed doors when the speeches were done and all that was left was to lie face first into a pillow. Slowly, painfully, drifting away from his goal, from hope, as he let go of that vision and self destructed in his paranoia and pain, taking you all down with him. Dying with the conviction that the only thing he ever brought, and could bring, was suffering.

So it doesn't matter that the wars that they went through only featured a dozen people at most, because while there was no big, inconceivable number of the lives lost, the despair and utter loss of hope, and anger, grief, that the few people we follow displayed at the end of it, was enough to tell the story. And it doesn't matter that the exile arc only lasted about a week in our time, because while it didn't last years for the character like it could have in any other story, the plain and so unapologetically explicit depiction of abuse we sat through watching all 11 of those days was enough to leave us shaken to our core. And it doesn't matter that the possession esque plot in Ranboo's story is never actually fully displayed, never actually results in anything too grotesque or alien, just some property damage, because the horror in Ranboo's voice and his detailed monologues as realizations keep piling up about the following pain that has resulted from it, the fear and uncertainty of himself, his own mind, and all the implications, are enough to make us cry.

Because, in the end, there doesn't need to be some big, cinematic, world wide tragedy to make us believe this is serious, to make us scream at the unfairness of it all. There just needs to be the intimate, and horrifying realization, that in this story, the ones closest to us are the ones who can actually hurt us the most.

#dream smp #meta #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #analysis #ranboo #awesamdude #wilbur soot #l'manburg #doomsday #exile arc #ramble #appreciation #abuse mention tw #death mention tw #my own post #in the story of the dream smp everyone can become a monster #and that's what makes it so terrifying #the vulnerability with which the characters' trauma is displayed is more painful than any fictional tragedy #the scale of which we could never actually fully visualise #the intimacy of the tragedy is what makes the story so dark #so yeah #i just wsnted to talk about this cause i think it's neat :] #also i just wanted to express how horribly messed up this story and it's characters are holy crap hfhtydyf /lh

[shrimpmandan]

Am I the only one who gets annoyed whenever representation of violent mentally ill characters is treated as inherently bad rep? Like. No mental illness makes someone *inherently* violent, but violent mentally ill people aren't *bad* mentally ill people. Look at me. I'm mentally ill. I have violent thoughts/tendencies, I lash out, I'm unstable. Mental illness is ugly and unpredictable. Stop watering it down.

This isn't to say you should make every mentally ill character violent and horrible, don't misconstrue this as that. But in saying that violent mentally ill characters are always bad rep, you are implying that violent mentally ill people are *bad* mentally ill people. I'm not bad or undeserving of help and compassion due to something I have very limited control of.

The characters I create for my shitty RPs are how I create an outlet for myself. I've gotten comments about how they're too edgy, too dark, hard to interact with. That's valid enough criticism, but I don't think that realism should be sacrificed just to make people more comfortable. Mental illness is uncomfortable. It's often scary. That should not be shyed away from.

The rest of this is going to be an infodump about my main OC, Zach. I do not think he's a perfect character or even a perfect portrayal of mental illness. But I want to provide an example of violent mental illness taken from both my own experiences, and from what I've seen of other people's struggles with mental illness. All you need to know about Zach from here on is that he's a non-human species. He's essentially a sapient animal, an omnivorous species at that, which will give a bit more context.

Zach is a victim of abuse, first and foremost. From a very young age he was beaten, insulted, and yelled at. The only parental figure in his life was his aunt, and she ended up dying trying to protect him and the rest of his pack from hunters.

From a very young age, Zach learned two things. That violence is an outlet for pain, and that everyone else is out to hurt him.

He displayed sadistic tendencies at a young age. It's the only way he knew how to cope with his anger, resentment, and trauma. What made him feel alive was inflicting that suffering on other people. In the moment, he got such a high from it that it was addictive. It was like a drug. He'd feel amazing for a brief moment, and then afterwards, feel worse than he did before.

Zach isn't heartless. He doesn't like the fact that he enjoys hurting people. Deep down is a vulnerable and emotionally immature soul who craves to be loved and yet sees himself as wholly unlovable to the point of not even trying to get better. The more he believes he's a monster, the more he actually becomes one. The only way he knows how to feel much of anything is through pain. The rest of his life blurs together. Aimless, meaningless, empty, nothing. He's nothing. He only feels truly alive when he is either being hurt, or hurting another.

He believes that without another person, he's broken. Incomplete. He craves love and intimacy to such an obsessive degree that he's willing to stay with someone who doesn't love him for as long as he can delude himself that they do. He thought a relationship would fix him. It never does. If anything it made him worse.

He eventually succumbed further to the idea that he was unlovable. He stopped valuing and respecting himself. He'd fuck anything that would allow him. He mistakes sexual desirability and sex itself as love. In some ways, it's the only form of love he can understand.

This is a man(?) who kills people for a high. He's a hedonistic serial killer. His coping mechanism became a morbid curiosity, then a fetish, then an obsession. He can't stop. He isn't killing for food anymore. He is not expressing normal predator instincts anymore. And that is solely a result of the mental illness and trauma he endured.

Zach is "bad" rep. He's violent, he's cruel, he's often selfish. And yet this is the reality for a lot of mentally ill people, especially ones with personality disorders (like what Zach has, if you didn't catch on). Deep down inside, if I didn't have any impulse control or humanity, this is me. This is my rawest expression of how I feel and my emotions, even if Zach isn't a direct self-insert. I'm extremely attached to him. He's an extension of myself -- he's not the same as me, but he is an outlet for me. Because having this amount of anger and violence inside of you when you're not actually that kind of person is terrifying.

And he's also partially based on my mother, who has borderline personality. She isn't heartless either, but she has hurt me. Many times over. Especially verbally. Creating Zach is actually what helped me learn about and better understand BPD. I can understand why my mom acts the way she does. And at the same time I can vent my frustrations through Zach and his violent fantasies and anger. He's completely impulsive and with very little restraint, and that's comforting.

I doubt I'm alone in this either, using fictional outlets to vent things we could never actually bring ourselves to do. It's cathartic to enact that in fiction. So to be told that that's bad, just because it portrays mental illness as bad, hurts. Mental illness is not a GOOD thing. Mental illness does not inherently make one a worse person, but it is not a good thing. Mental illness is bad. You can acknowledge that while still being accepting.

I am not a "bad" mentally ill person. Violent mentally ill characters are not inherently bad rep. You can acknowledge that mental illness =/= violence without completely demonizing mentally ill people/characters who have violent thoughts or tendencies. Zach is a bad person. Maybe deep down I'm a bad person too. But I think I still deserve love. Everyone does. Even my emotional support serial killer furry.

#this is probably rambly and makes zero sense bc im very tired #i wanted to write about ''bad'' mental illness but also infodump about my ocs at the same time so take this mess #reblogs and addons are totally cool idc #personal #tw abuse

[pro-bee]

Ziva David Appreciation Week Day 1: Underrated Friendship

OK, I had a totally different idea for this one initially (and if I have time tonight maybe I’ll make another post), but here it goes for now:

I don’t know how “underrated” this is, but I really liked the relationship between Ziva and Damon Werth.

(All screencaps in this post courtesy of NCIS Source.)

They meet under inauspicious circumstances, of course. He is their main suspect and has just beaten the crap out of the entire team, including Ziva. 

Yet instead of feeling fear or anger, Ziva is immediately drawn to Damon, because she recognizes something in him: Trauma.

Even before we find out that Damon is a super soldier, that he’s been experimented on and manipulated through the use of steroids to do someone else’s bidding, Ziva is sympathetic towards him, recognizing a look in his eyes she’s probably seen in countless friends and colleagues as a soldier -- and even in herself. Being so focused on your mission that you can’t leave it behind.

For instance, once Werth is in custody, there is that moment with Abby where she freaks out over the attack, losing her marbles over her friends being hurt, and in turn losing it on Ziva when Ziva expresses sympathy for Damon’s situation. That brings the infamous line where Abby accuses Ziva of being an “emotionless” assassin, compared to the rest of them who presumably have feelings, which gets right at the heart of Ziva’s own pain. Because we know she’s not emotionless, just like Damon isn’t, and she sees in him what she assumes the world sees of her. That on the outside she appears to be the perfect soldier, following orders without remorse, but we know that on the inside she feels so deeply that she essentially feels alone, like no one can understand her.

Which is why she is so desperate to clear Damon’s name. 

He’s a marine who gave his life to serve his country and is now being tossed aside to cover up someone else’s mistakes, just like Ziva’s been used by her father and Mossad to serve someone else’s agenda, been trained her whole life to be the sharp end of someone else’s spear, without any consideration for her own desires or choices.

Which is why it’s so important to her to not only plead his case and get to the bottom of what really happened, but also show him that someone out there does understand what he’s going through. Both the trauma of what happens in a war zone and when you get home -- and what it’s like to have everyone make assumptions about you and write you off. (As the conversation with Abby painfully demonstrates.)

So when they finally figure out what is happening to him, that someone is harming him, Ziva is determined that she can get through to him, and insists on meeting with him, even though it is a risk to her safety. 

Which proves to be true, when they have their “Pulp Fiction” moment and he Hulk Smashes his way through the hospital room:

What has always struck me about this scene is how preternaturally calm she is in this moment. This guy who probably weighs twice as much as her comes charging at her, and sure, she’s probably internally worried that she’s going to get hurt, but she isn’t scared of him. And not in that “Ziva is a badass who takes no shit” kind of way, but in an overwhelmingly compassionate, “this isn’t who he is” way. It is incredibly vulnerable and raw, but again displays this whole other side of her that we only get glimpses of. 

The show often glosses over Ziva’s own military service, but how many men (and women) do you think Ziva has known in her lifetime who have ended up exactly like Damon? Guys who were once your best buddies whose brains ended up like “Swiss cheese” to quote this show, due to their PTSD and whatever else they’ve suffered with as a result? Friends you wish you could have helped but lost along the way?

I feel like that is exactly what drives Ziva to fight for him so fiercely from the outset, and why she takes an unusually silent, open approach with him. 

She gave him a chance when no one else would.

(Because life gave her a second chance when by all accounts she never should have had it.)

Like, I even love that of all of them, it’s Ziva and Gibbs who get dressed up all fancy to take Damon to his medal ceremony, and how disappointed they both are when it gets cancelled.

They want to stand by him. (That’s a whole other post -- how Ziva and Gibbs “get” the military duty aspect more than any of the other combination of team members, because they’re the only two who have served and understand the commitment and personal sacrifice that entails firsthand.)

Bonus cap: Ziva in fancy clothes:

Anyway, this first episode is mostly Ziva-focused, obviously, because Damon’s brain was all scrambled, but I loved how it showed their instant connection, which is highlighted in his future appearances in season 7.

It’s a short one in “Outlaws and Inlaws,” but it packs a punch.

Once again, Damon finds himself accidentally on the wrong side, this time because it turns out his boss is a mercenary who has hired him to kidnap Layla and Amira (under the guise of “rescue,”) but I love that as soon as he sees Ziva there, he goes from “oh no I have to save my friend!” to “oh SHIT we gotta fix this” when Ziva tells him what is in fact happening. Like, screw all his coworkers, if Ziva tells him something’s wrong, he’s with her 110%. I love how deep that trust is.

And I like how he changes sides immediately at this too. We only see him briefly in this episode, but he’s totally ride-or-die for Team NCIS, thanks to Ziva. 

Then in his last episode, he and Ziva actually get to team up on a mission!

And they’re all cute and fun and flirty but in a totally friendly way!

(Not gonna lie, if Ziva couldn’t be with Tony, I would have been fine with her having a fling with Damon. He was hot and nice and kinda worshipped her, what’s not to like? But I digress.)

I just really appreciated how he was this dude who could easily have been a macho meathead, but instead he’s sensitive and struggling with his demons, just like Ziva is, and the reignite this kinship over their shared history of trauma:

“My friends who know about these things tell me it is a science. Trauma intensifies memory, which can make it feel ever present.” “There a reason for that?” "Perhaps to teach you, so you do not allow it to happen again.” "I keep getting stuck in my own history.” "Look, the last time we saw each other, you were in control. You helped us. Even after everything you have gone through, you can move forward. You can find the right path, Damon.”

(transcript courtesy Springfield)

In the context of the show, this is months after Somalia, and Ziva is still grappling with what happened to her there, along with everything that happened to her in her life before she came to NCIS, and she’s trying to reconcile who she wants to be with her past. 

But she’s doing the work. That’s the important part.

So when she reunites with Damon, sees him struggling with his own past and his own choices and possibly heading down the wrong path because he can’t find his footing in civilian life, she’s sympathetic to his plight. Because she was lucky enough to have NCIS to fall back on, something to help guide her and give her direction in her life when she left her old one. Damon doesn’t have that kind of support system, and like Ziva went from being in a highly specialized unit where everything was life-or-death, to living an aimless existence just trying to get by. 

I love that Ziva tries to mentor him in a way, or even act like a sponsor of sorts, showing him that trauma manifests in different forms, but that there are ways to get through it. They are not defined by their experiences or by others’ expectations of them, and all they can do is work hard to honour their choices and live up to their own expectations of themselves.

I love that they took what was probably this one-off character in season 5, and used his backstory to mirror Ziva’s, and help her work through some of those feelings herself. 

I’d like to think that Damon and Ziva kept in touch over the years, checked in with each other with a quick text every couple of months or years to see what they’re up to. He was an unexpectedly cool dude, and I’m glad we got to see Ziva show compassion to him when no one else would, because that is such a huge part of who she is. She fights for those who don’t have a voice.

I’d totally be cool with Damon coming back one day!

#zivadavidweek2019 #underrated friendships #i was all set to write something about ziva and ducky #but this unexpectedly came out instead #besides ducky probably isn't underrated #given that i wrote how many posts about their friendship after 17x02 #or when i rewatched season 7 a few months ago #anyway #damon is hot! #and sweet! #and really likes ziva! #and shares in her trauma! #YOU GUYS WHAT IF DAMON IS ONE OF HER CONTACTS???? #i don't actually think so #BUT THAT WOULD WORK OUT SO WELL

[un-tide]

Rupi Kaur Taught Me DIY

(TW for mentions of sexual assault.)

Last year, I wrote a short essay on why I hate Rupi Kaur. Not just why I hate her work, but why I hate her as a writer. Maybe even as a person. I had never (and still haven’t) met this woman, which should have been my first clue that there was something underlying these emotions that probably wasn’t fair to her. But I was comfortable in my hate, even more so when I could articulate everything that was wrong with her in a way that was logical and academic and had nothing to do with me—so much so that I was unable to see that my disdain for this woman did, in fact, have almost everything to do with me.

Growing up as a young girl whose first love was books, I found myself torn between worlds. On my top shelf, I kept some of my favorite series—Percy Jackson, Pendragon, Artemis Fowl. These were books my parents approved of, holding imaginative, fantastical worlds and morals of bravery and friendship. Under my bed were my other favorites—the ones my parents didn’t approve of—The Clique and The Princess Diaries. These kinds of stories were adventurous in a way that was relatable to me, with the struggles of teenage friendship and the perils of mean girls, but they did skip over many of the lessons I got from my more “gender-neutral” books, and they did not have fantastical or imaginative worlds unless they came with a borderline-abusive romance.

Early on, I learned another kind of lesson: as a woman, I will constantly have to choose between books that tell stories that are inspiring and creative, and books that tell stories about people like me.  

When I first heard about a young, South Asian, feminist, second-generation immigrant woman who wrote openly about her identity and her story, it was if my childhood prayers had been answered. It seemed too good to be true—I am also a young, South Asian, feminist, second-generation immigrant woman. If I was ever going to find a poet I could relate to, Rupi Kaur was it. Finally, there was poetry being written by people like me for people like me, and I didn’t have to choose between quality and relatability anymore. Imagine, then, how it felt to open up one of her most famous books and read this: “how is it so easy for you/ to be kind to people he asked / milk and honey dripped from my lips as i answered / cause people have not /been kind to me.”

I was dumbfounded. Surely I had picked up the wrong book. This was a book of 2014’s 25 saddest tweets, and the #1 New York Times bestseller Milk and Honey was somewhere else. Where was the symbolism? The wordplay? The rhyme or meter? Even the line breaks had no apparent significance. And above those basic elements of poetry—where was the deeper meaning? It’s a sad conversation, but one that, rather than sitting in a book of supposed poetry, would fit better on a teenager’s Tumblr post, or somewhere else you could read it very quickly, frown a little, and move on. And I did just that.

I returned the book to the stack of fifty just like it, and from Rupi Kaur's Milk and Honey I re-learned that same lesson I learned as a child: good books do not tell your story. Move on.

I won’t pretend that my knowledge of poetry comes from more a few college classes, but if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that understanding a poem takes time. Poems hold secrets—alternate meanings and obscure allusions—that you can only discover when you read them again and again. Their meanings can be argued and refuted using symbols and allusions to books written one-hundred years earlier and a comma placed here instead of there. Sure, over-embellished poetry sometimes does hide more than it reveals, especially to the young or less educated reader, but Rupi Kaur’s work strips an idea of all layers beneath its surface.

Some call Kaur’s style accessible, but I call bullshit. Accessibility is about delivering complex concepts while breaking the barriers that typically surround them, whether those barriers be based on education, class, gender, sexuality, or race. Tossing a sad thought you had in the shower to a young audience does not break barriers to feminist or survivor literature of any kind.

On a personal level, I do hold some empathy for Kaur. Her poems attempt to address difficult topics like heartbreak and abuse, and I imagine she has been through some trauma that many women are familiar with, myself included. The meaning of the poem I read in the bookstore was not lost on me: sometimes people are kind because they are already acquainted with cruelty. But simply stating something true or shocking does not make it well-crafted, and it certainly does not make it poetry. Much of Kaur’s success comes from stating the obvious in the most plain way possible, taking a complicated idea and hollowing it out into a pretty painted shell.

To put it simply, Kaur’s work is shallow. It seems to lack effort as much as it does depth, and despite her education, it displays little mastery of imagery or symbolism or poetic style. It is less poetry than it is bite-size food-for-thought possibly conceived in a trendy hipster cafe and posted on Instagram as the caption for an aesthetically pleasing but disappointingly grimace-inducing over-sweet cup of milk and honey. Kaur touches the surface of ideas before shying away like a cat from water, and in doing so fails to teach her audience of young women and girls—many of whom might have fallen in love with poetry had they not been alienated by mainstream misogynistic and white-centric classics—how to analyze and write complex ideas that are pivotal to their recovery, their self-esteem, and their survival.

If my school had taught more female-friendly literature when I was in high school, I wouldn’t have begun to hate reading. The books we read that actually included women were traumatic at worst and voyeuristic at best, and my teachers seemed oblivious, perhaps simply starstruck by the stubbornly unwavering fame and brilliance of the classics. Nevermind that 1984 featured a protagonist with a burning desire to rape the book’s only notable female character. Nevermind that the sexual liberalism in Brave New World had my elderly, white, male substitute teaching us that the World State was—despite its female citizens’ complete lack of reproductive autonomy and a suspicious absence of female Alphas—a feminist society. Nevermind that The Handmaid’s Tale, despite actually being a feminist novel, depicts a misogynistic hellscape a little too realistic for comfort. 

The older I grew, the more it seemed that very few of the classics were written with women in mind, and almost none of them seemed to be written for women’s benefit, education, or—god forbid—enjoyment.

Disappointed by the classics, I returned to popular fiction as a teenager, desperate for a story with a protagonist I could relate to, or at the very least did not want to strangle every time they opened their mouth. At my local flea market, which I frequented every first Saturday of the month, I had come across a well-stocked used-book stall. While making my way through The Princess Diaries series dollar by dollar, I stumbled upon a book that I can only imagine was placed in flea market stall that day by the Devil himself just so he could have a laugh: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I won’t give away any spoilers, but I’ll give you one guess what happens halfway through. I am not ashamed to say I stopped reading anything other than The Princess Diaries for some time.

I wish I could say my high school experience was unique. There is a profound need for contemporary literature and poetry that not only does not alienate women, but caters to us specifically. We deserve to read books that do not hurt us more than we already are hurting, that address our trauma but don’t weaponize it against us. We deserve to witness other women powerfully and passionately explore and understand our shared experiences and shared pain. We deserve to learn how to explore these ideas for ourselves. The feminist subjects of Rupi Kaur’s poetry deserve nuance, because the more precisely we are able to articulate our experiences and ideas and traumas, the more understood they—and we—become. Much like I was as a young child, the girls devouring Rupi Kaur’s work are still scrambling for crumbs. She had the opportunity to feed a generation of girls starved for poetry free of white men’s hunger, and she didn’t.

Kaur, at first, seemed to me to be nothing new in a world of successful yet seemingly talentless women who continuously fail and profit off of the next generation of starving girls (the Kardashian-Jenner clan comes to mind). But only on my own journey to becoming a writer did I come to understand that Rupi Kaur might be different, that she might actually be trying very hard--that she might be hiding something. As a reader, I never understood that a fact that I am painfully aware of now: writing makes you vulnerable. The more I wrote, the more I began to realize that what I perceived as lack of depth was, perhaps, a terribly relatable inability to be open.

It’s what I hate the most about writing—displaying yourself to the world when your childhood scrapes are still scabbing over and everyone is certain to see under your skin. I’ve never been good at being vulnerable, which makes me a reluctant writer on a good day and a liar on the rest. People do weird things when they’re afraid, like write mediocre poetry or channel all their anger at the world towards someone they’ve never met. I could not do, or at least have not yet done, what I ask of Rupi Kaur. What would I tell her, I imagine, if I ever met her? I could deflect: “Hey Rupi, your poetry about your suffering needs some work.” Or I could be honest: “Please, Rupi, tell my story for me.”

Because isn’t that what I always wanted: a story just like mine, read to me like a mother would read to her child at bedtime, a story about people like me that teaches me I’m not alone. I had waited for representation so long that when it finally arrived, it felt like a betrayal when it fell so far short. I don’t hate Rupi Kaur because her work is bad—I hate her because her work is bad and there are almost no other options. I hate her because she is my generation’s standard for how to write stories like hers and mine, and it does not do them justice. I hate her because I wanted her to do what I didn’t yet have the courage to do myself.

Maybe I’m projecting; maybe Rupi Kaur is exactly as shallow as her poetry suggests and no amount of openness will make it better. It doesn’t change that I expected someone else to be the writer of my story simply because we have a lot in common. I wasn’t fair to Rupi Kaur when I wrote my 300-word-long-rant about theintolerable injusticeshe was inflicting on young women and girls—which I posted, and I’m aware of the irony, on Tumblr and Instagram. I placed the burden of my vulnerability on her shoulders.

I stand by my criticisms of Rupi Kaur, but I also owe her some gratitude, because she taught me another lesson: I can’t rely on other people to tell my story, or stories about people like me. I can’t rely on other people to fill a void in literature or poetry or to fix any other problem I insist needs solving.

If you want something done right, or even done at all, sometimes you just have to do it yourself, even if—especially if—that means opening up about experiences you’d rather keep hidden. If Rupi Kaur is any indication, the bar for young women’s contemporary poetry and literature is evidently on the floor, which, on the bright side, means that any woman who has the courage to openly, honestly, and vulnerably tell her own story—even if she gets ripped to shreds by mean girls like me—will still be doing all of us a favor.

#disclaimer i wrote half of a draft on the train to school and then the final draft the night before it was due #so its not exactly mm.. polished #mine #words #mine words...

[moiraineswife]

Okay so I could definitely do with some more queer rep from Sanderson but I will say that I love the richness and complexity of his characters and the fuck that they almost all say ‘fuck you’ to writing gender roles. 

‘Strong women’ doesn’t mean ‘woman punches loads of things and is badass’ it means a rich variety, of complex women who are each strong in their own way.

 Vin, the street-urchin and constant survivor, whose strength comes as she grows and actually learns, in so many ways, to outgrow that ‘strong woman’ archetype. She learns to be soft. She learns to embrace her feminine side. She learns vulnerability, and love, and trust, and she grows into a better, stronger person for it. 

Marasi who finds her strength in knowledge, and in loving herself for the things she can do, instead of loving the idolised version of herself who has all the things she wishes she could do. Who learns to stop revering and living in a man’s shadow, and steps out to cast her own. 

Steris who is a canonly autistic woman who is never forced to be ‘normal’, in any sense of the word. The characters around her learn to read her, to understand her, and they fall in love with the woman that she is because of her quirks, because of her differences, because of her autism, and not in spite of it. 

Shallan who was a sheltered, naive young abuse victim, with very obvious PTSD and anxiety who has undergone an incredible, uneven recovery journey. She has found herself, her voice, her independence, and her agency. But she is also learning how to accept what has happened to her instead of hiding from it, to heal and grow while retaining her wit, her drawing, and her smile. 

Jasnah who, frankly, couldn’t care less about people’s expectations when it comes to her. Her mind is her own, and her strength comes from knowing herself, and refusing to compromise that self even when it goes against her entire culture and society. A woman who presents a composed, cold, blunt face to the world and is allowed to, and is never undermined or ‘thawed’. She is who she is, and that’s final. 

Navani as a mother, a wife, a lover, in many ways the embodiment of traditional roles for a female character over a certain age. But she’s also a scholar, an engineer, an inventor, a visionary. A woman who knows what she wants, and inevitably finds a way of getting it. A woman who has deep loves and passions, and pursues them, but never loses sight of the merit of logic and order. 

Vivenna, who grew up with the knowledge that she was to be a sacrifice for her people, that her pain and happiness were as nothing compared to her duty. A woman who grew up with deeply rooted prejudices, and a naive, ignorant view of the world. She grew up, she learned her own mind, and followed it to the ends of her earth and into another, where she came to lead men in battle in a notoriously misogynistic/gender-role based society. 

Siri the dreamer, the free spirit, who learned that she didn’t have to be like her sister, and didn’t have to ascribe to the things expected of her to have value, and worth, and power. Who becomes a queen in her own right, and matures into a powerful woman who refuses to accept life on any but her own terms. 

It’s a common enough critique that female characters get stuffed into one mould that’s described as ‘strong’ and that’s it. Which is almost as limiting and stifling as the traditional expectations of female characters. But tbh I love what he does with his male characters and the complexity and rejection of typical masculinity there, too. 

Elend who grew up under the thumb of an abusive father and an oppressive system, but still had the softness, and the hope to dream of building something better. Who was more than comfortable having his wife protect him, and having everyone know that, who took pride in Vin, without ever once having it be hinted as some sort of slight to his masculinity. Who was able to accept the correction and guidance of another woman everyone else scorned and ignored who helped shape him into a better king, and a better man. 

Sazed who was portrayed both as the gentle, reserved scholar, but also a rebel and an instigator, who went against his people to build a better world. Someone who was presented as rational, and calm, and arguably nonbinary, and mostly shuns pretty every typically ‘masculine’ trope in the book. 

Kelsier who had the fairly typical ‘dead wife, revenge plot’ story, but that was explored in a thoroughly atypical way tbh. A man full of darkness who insisted upon fighting with a smile, and encouraged others to do the same. Cocky, and arrogant, and selfish was balanced by a little flash of sentiment, the hope for a new world, and the picture of a flower he carried with him to remind him what they fought for. 

Adolin who’s regarded as one of the best swordsmen in the world, but who talks to his weapon before battle and thanks it for serving him. He wears his mother’s necklace as a good luck charm in battle, and goes against cultural expectations by being physically affectionate with the people he loves. Also has a keen interest in fashion he refuses to be ashamed of, and while his actions characterise him as a womaniser, his thoughts/behaviours display his dissatisfaction with that, and his desire for stability. Also very emotionally aware of those around him, and takes care to look after them when he reads them being in trouble. 

Dalinar’s honestly fascinating journey from a bloodthirsty, violent soldier, to a depressed, traumatised alcoholic, to a struggling general, a hero of mankind, and then again struggling with PTSD is honestly so well-written. This man is literally a military legend, renowned for his prowess in war and we see him, in the course of the series: give away a legendary blade that is literally more valuable than kingdoms for the lives of a group of slaves, and consider it a genuinely good deal as he’s learned that all lives are precious. Struggle with very obvious flashbacks and panic attacks as a result of war trauma. Meekly align himself with distinctly feminine things to quietly support his son and stop him feeling awkward. 

Renarin, who is a canon autistic character, who cannot be a soldier in a distinctly war-driven society, and is allowed to explore that, to feel bitterness and frustration with his condition. But who is also slowly starting to learn, with the support of his family, that there are different kinds of strength, and that they love him and are proud of him even if he can’t march into battle at the head of their armies. Who is allowed to stim openly, who is largely accepted for his differences, and is defended fiercely on the occasion that he’s not. Who is a goddamn super hero in this world, and is a massively progressive piece of honest autistic representation, in which he is not a character with autism, but an autistic character. 

Kaladin who is honestly one of the most visceral, honest portrayals of depression I’ve seen in a fictional character. Who still, three books on, suffers from depressive episodes, who acknowledges that this kind of thing sometimes doesn’t just go away, or get better, that it’s always there, somewhere, and he fights it, and keeps fighting it, with the help and acceptance of those around him. Who is also a goddamn super hero who is warned by his surgeon-father that he’ll have to grow calluses, that he can’t care so deeply about his patients. Who becomes a soldier to support his younger brother, and tries to strike the balance between killing and protection, and to deal with his soft heart that has never truly hardened. 

Male characters that have genuine, honestly explored mental illnesses, insecurities, and who are frequently depicted crying, and otherwise being allowed to freely show and explore their emotions and honestly, i could say a hell of a lot more but this is quite long enough so that’s enough of that.  

#vin venture #shallan davar #jasnah kholin #navni kholin #vivenna #sisirinah #steris harms #marasi colms #kelsier #elend venture #sazed #kaladin #renarin kholin #adolin kholin #dalinar kholin #brandon sanderson #i am So Thankful #cosmere #cosmere meta #mistborn #mistborn 2.0 #stormlight archive #warbreaker #text post tag #long post #my meta

[itspatsy]

Okay, after much thought, here’s my attempt to explain how I’m generally okay with Trish’s trajectory this season in theory, but why I feel the writers slipped up in execution. 

Addiction is a monster. It takes over your life, every facet of it, mind, body, and soul, and tears it to shreds. It controls you. It consumes you, fully. It leaves you lying to everyone around you, rationalizing, making excuses and justifications. It destroys your relationships. It makes you use, manipulate, and discard people, whether they be total strangers or your closest loved ones, because nothing is more important than getting your fix. It forces you to do things you never thought you would do, awful, immoral, degrading things. It twists you into someone you can’t even recognize. I get that. I get that this is what Trish’s storyline was about. And I get that none of the other characters were really in a position to help her deal with any of it, and how that shows the importance of having a support system to help you through a mental illness like this. 

And it wasn’t a character assassination, because all the pieces were there. The barely contained rage and taste for violence, the self-protectiveness and need to be in control, the fear of vulnerability, the reckless self-destruction and lack of impulse control, the low self-esteem and feelings of worthlessness, the undeveloped sense of self, the egocentrism and self-righteousness, the self-defensiveness and difficulty admitting wrongs, the envy of what others have, the obsessiveness, the apathy and trouble understanding others’ feelings, the overwhelming ambition to contribute something meaningful to the world, the desperate need to be someone that matters, really matters, to people. And there were shades of unhealthiness in her relationship with Jessica: codependency, envy, high expectations, the idealization, trying to live vicariously through her, pushing her into things that weren’t always best for her. 

Those were all aspects of Trish, some more negative or harmful than others, and most of them very much a response to severe trauma and abuse. I’ve talked a lot about those aspects of her character in the past. They were part of her in s1, but tempered to manageable levels, because she was in a reasonably stable place in her life and was making an active effort to improve herself and to get better. But then her best friend and only support system disappeared for 6 months, she was almost murdered multiple times despite all her self-defense training, she broke 10 years of being clean with Simpson’s pill to protect Jessica, and her abusive mom found a way to slither back into her life by hanging information about Jessica over her head. That stability and any sense of safety and control she’d been able to develop was gone, all of her resistance was lowered to critical levels, and it opened her up to this relapse, which then ate away at the most positive parts of her personality and amplified the worst ones x1000. I get that.

One quick look through this blog will show that I was not one of those fans that ever thought Trish was some pure precious cinnamon role and moral paragon. I knew that under her put-together facade, she was a walking disaster that was as traumatized and damaged and desperate and conflicted as Jessica. And I did want the show to explore that damage and how trauma presents itself in many different ways. I wanted it to be clear to viewers Trish is actually not okay and is still struggling with her past. I wanted her issues with addiction to be examined. I wanted then to move towards Hellcat. I even wanted her and Malcolm to interact more and develop their own dynamic. So I should be happy, right? They technically did what I wanted. Shit, like 90% of the songs on my Trish playlist just became significantly more relevant. But no, I’m not really feeling happy about it, because I got the wishing on a monkey’s paw version. 

A quick personal note: Trish means a lot to me, and her relationship with Jessica means a lot to me, and that’s something I can’t really put into words. My initial reaction to the season was just… an overwhelming sadness. And I don’t feel as bad now, but I keep bouncing between “sure, it does make sense” to “this is so awful, oh god, why would they do this???” Sometimes I feel this inspiration to write thousands of words of meta, but then it just as easily turns and suddenly I can’t stand thinking about it because it makes me nauseous. For the last year, I’ve thought about Trish every day in at least some capacity. I thought about her as I went to bed, when I drove, when I went for walks, when I had any short moment of time to myself. I’m not here to talk about whether using fictional characters like that is a particularly healthy coping mechanism, because that’s not the point right now. The point is, it was a pleasant distraction for me that helped me cope with other life things, but now it’s something that causes me pain and anxiety, and I’m stuck feeling like I have to detach from the thing that was helping me detach if I ever want to feel better. 

I’ve been trying to pinpoint what it is about all of this that’s making me feel that way. Why do I feel like someone literally died? I don’t think my problem is with the characterization in and of itself because I knew those things were sitting under the surface, and it’s not with telling this story of trauma and addiction and putting the full ugly reality of it on display. It definitely isn’t a problem with the acting: Rachael Taylor was amazing and knocked it out of the park. So what’s the problem? Why isn’t this sitting okay with me? I’m generally pretty rational, but I think most of my issues here are very perception and emotion based rather than anything obviously intellectual, and it’s hard to verbalize. I’ll try my best. And I don’t know, maybe my feelings will change if I watch again, but right now, the idea of that still hurts too much. 

So. The writers deconstructed Trish, which is fascinating in theory, but I just feel like they did it without… kindness? It felt like pure merciless brutality. Even mean-spirited sometimes. They debased every part of her life and her accomplishments, cheapened them, and put her in publicly humiliating situations at every opportunity. They left her without a shred of dignity, without her heart, without one positive relationship. And, no, addiction isn’t at all kind, it is cruel and demeaning and heartless, but I didn’t feel a sense of compassion from the writers themselves in how they handled her and her trauma and mental illness. That so many viewers are reacting so negatively to Trish doesn’t strike me as purely a failure to understand the impact of addiction, but that there was a failure on the writers’ part to show it in an empathetic, understanding way. Even I, someone that loves Trish so much and spends a lot of time in her head, feel like I have to do extra legwork. 

It felt as though they were prioritizing and emphasizing her motivations in a way that was intended to put her in the absolute worst light possible. Her most selfish motivations (”unholy” ambition, jealousy, wanting to be the special one) were on full display and consistently pointed out by other characters, but they often underplayed her more sympathetic, obviously trauma based motivations or the motivations that were sincerely about helping other people. She talked the talked about doing good, but there was no point where it was shown in action. It was almost always a manipulative ploy to help herself or get her fix. I know Trish does sincerely care about people, wants to make sure they never have to feel as small and helpless and voiceless as she’s been made to feel, and I think probably the writers do think of that as one of her many conflicting motivations, but they didn’t show it, they only told it and then contradicted it. It also definitely didn’t help that it felt like they were villainizing ambition, and as a result, villainizing her for daring to have it. I don’t think I need to explain why the implication that women having ambition will lead them down a road of power-hungry obsession and selfish callousness is… not great. 

And I feel like they just didn’t carry over what should have been obvious threads that would’ve helped make more sense of this downward spiral. What I said above about how her behavior here connects to the events of s1? That’s all headcanoning from me. The show didn’t actually draw those lines. It wasn’t clear that she was still reacting to having her vulnerability shoved so brutality back in her face by Simpson and Kilgrave. That she’d opened herself up to relapse after taking Simpson’s pill. That Kilgrave fractured her relationship with Jessica and the cracks still hadn’t been patched up. Or even that letting her mom near her again was reviving old traumas and pressures and expectations and unhealthy coping mechanisms. I think the whole thing moved too quickly, and they decided to give us the Darkest Timeline Trish without fully adding up the elements and explaining when and how we crossed the veil and dipped into that timeline. When I was plotting out an AU where she never met Jessica, s2 Trish is actually what I pictured. But that’s kind of the key point: it was a Trish that never had anyone’s love and support. That wasn’t true here. And I think at least pulling threads from s1 would’ve added more depth to it, instead of making it seem like she was only being driven by some desperation for MORE MORE MORE. 

And I don’t know, maybe it’s all just in my head, but I perceived a kind of near softening of Dorothy (not completely, obviously) that almost felt designed to pull even more sympathy away from Trish. It just felt like they were pulling back on her. There were a few points where it seemed they were trying to veer her closer to lovable asshole territory and trying to gloss over things we know she did from s1. I think viewers do need reminders sometimes, especially if you’ve been off the air for over two years, and it doesn’t help to have things completely vital to a character’s identity and formation mentioned offhandedly in a quick conversation. That Dorothy literally pimped her daughter out was sort of brushed over and the repercussions of her role in it weren’t examined. Even their body language shifted compared to the defensiveness of s1. Trish just let Dorothy into her personal space, let her casually touch her, like it didn’t mean anything, like there wasn’t years of physical abuse. And then to put Dorothy in a position to be the voice of reason was just… wow. To leave viewers with the ability to say, “damn, Trish is a selfish prick, and Dorothy is just telling it like it is,” it felt gross. 

By the end, the execution of all this felt more like a grueling punishment of the character than a complex, human story told with careful thoughtfulness and compassion. It felt villainizing. It felt like darkness for the sake of darkness. And listen, I love angst. I love complicated, difficult characters sometimes doing the wrong things. I love characters failing and falling and learning and building themselves back up. But I’m just so tired of hopelessly grimdark stories. I’m tired of shows destroying their light in a quest to compete for the title of sickest, saddest world. 

And yes, this show was already harsh in its first season, and it didn’t back away from cruel reality, but it wasn’t hopeless. It had its heart. And that beating, bleeding heart was the relationship between Jessica and Trish. But they chose to rip that heart out. And that’s the thing that bothers me the most. They took away the most positive thing in these women’s lives, and the most positive thing in the show and something the fandom loved, and for what purpose exactly? In s1, they gave us these broken, codependent women that could be messy and wrong, that could cause each other pain, but still shared a love that was powerful and supportive and uplifting. That’s an infinitely more valuable and meaningful thing to put on the screen than another common, cliched story about petty jealousy tearing women apart. 

And I’m aware it wasn’t as simple as a petty need to be the special-est person in the room driving Trish, that this envy stems from her knowing if she’d had Jessica’s power she’d have been able to protect herself from the things that still leave her feeling empty and small, how it continues to feed into her feelings of worthlessness and lack of control, that she’s been conditioned to believe nothing is good enough and she needs to be better and more than herself and have more than what she has if anyone is ever going to love her, but I also spend a lot of time in Trish’s head, thinking about her motivations and traumas. I doubt most viewers are going to take the time to dig deeper. And I don’t know, I can’t entirely blame the fandom for failing to afford Trish the same sympathy and understanding they’re willing to offer Jessica and her fuck ups when it feels like the show itself didn’t seem to want to give it to Trish or didn’t try to paint the fullest picture of where she was coming from. So the takeaway for a lot of people is going to be that the writers took this special, well-loved relationship and ripped it apart by making one of them a jealous, resentful, toxic creep. I can’t blame anyone for feeling upset or betrayed.

I can tell myself there was a point to all of this. I can tell myself they’ll pull Trish back from the edge, that she slipped, lost the plot, but that recovery is on the way, and she will make an honest effort to get better and be better and work to become her best self, which is the thing that makes a true hero. I can tell myself they’ll repair her relationship with Jessica, and the two of them will come out of this with a stronger, more healthy dynamic because they’ll finally openly address the ugly things that were festering. I can tell myself that, but I can’t trust it. 

I trusted the writers once already. I trusted them to treat Trish with compassion and kindness, even as they broke her down and took her to dark places. I trusted them to show a difficult, complicated but still ultimately affirming and unconditional love between her and Jessica. But they broke my trust. How can I have faith about what they’ll do next season? How can I believe they’ll lift Trish back up and mend things with Jessica instead of taking her down a path of outright villainy? Honestly, making her a villain seems about as likely as anything else at this point. So I can’t trust them, and because this show doesn’t follow a typical schedule, I also won’t even get to know what direction they’ll take for at least another two years. And it’s just not a good feeling to have to sit with. It sucks when you invest so much of yourself into something, and then the things that meant the most to you about it get pulled out from under you, and you can’t even trust that it’ll actually get better.

#trish walker #jessica jones #jj s2 spoilers #so yeah that's where i'm at right now #it's subject to change maybe #but i'm still kind of just not wanting to think about any of it because it makes me sad #eta because i've been asked a few times: feel free to reblog

[popcornbutterflymedia]

every episode since the pilot has been a favorite, so to call this one another favorite is redundant. this is a standout episode, a breakthrough. there is a lot to unpack and i love it.

this episode grounds the central romance in the real world between two people burdened by responsibility, haunted by their past, hardened by their own hurts. there has always been a personal need for a love story between two people who feels undeserving of love, while the other is incapable of giving love. i’ve always wondered at the dynamics of two damaged beings, if love is even possible for them. this single episode has made it that story, and it’s incredibly satisfying.

a random, possibly unrelated question: are hardened people who aren’t used to being vulnerable considered broken, when they don’t show emotion, and are incapable to let emotion in or are they just shaped differently? if they are indeed brojen, is brokenness even a bad thing?

this installment in the series is a reckoning with the hurts that shape people, acceptance and healing.

we are reminded of the outburst from the previous installment that seemingly came out of left field. it accomplished what it set out to do, which was to drive a wedge between taguro and sensui, and thus by extension the friend group. it was clear, after this confrontation that their alter egos are still alive, ready to answer either's call. what it hasn't done, at this point, is explain why everything imploded in the first place. more on that later. what it has also done though, is show donny's improved acting, which frankly, til now still leaves me speechless. the sparks between donny and belle were also on full display, so bright, it's blinding, so present it will be foolish to deny it.

in deib’s bedside monologue for an audience of one, he laments his predisposition to hurt everyone he loves, compounded by having to constantly prove his worth, he carries the weight of the world in his heart. weather or not this is the factual truth matters little when life makes one question one’s worth, and capacity to love. 

onscreen moments become relatable when fictional situations are made alive by feelings that become friends you know do well, and emotions take hold of the heart, like this one did and never let go. there is still a heaviness as this is being written, that is not unwanted.

at the barb, team max inquires about the girl's supposed friendship with deib, which paved the way to a map of max's heart, along with a comprehensive history of its heartbreaks. this lesson includes a chapter on childhood love, one she willingly waited on for years. it was a summer romance, new and shiny, bright and childlike and blinding. she had the boy's heart in her keeping only returned when and shares when the boy returned home. it felt good, she said, to be loved, and be loved in return, to be accepted unconditionally. it was good. it was good, until the boy discovered the bigger world, and the bigger world discovered the boy. the world gave everything rj wanted, and maybe demanded so much from him in return. home was difficult to come back to, where without a word, with his heart in her hands, waiting and waiting, her and waiting. that is how we, the audience found her: waiting. that is how her friends found her: waiting. that is how deib met her: in a state of mistrust, and uncertainly waiting.

without a word of absolution, from rj, max took on the responsibility of being left behind. she was left to her own devices for survival, thus the harsh exterior, the high walls around her heart, taking on the pain, keeping it all in, while her trust issues affect all her present relationships, active and possible ones.

a belated realization is that max and deib share a selflessness that can be toxic, in that they both take responsibility for any pain, or unfortunately circumstance. they internalize that weight and carry it around, unprompted

writing is usually a balm for a heavy heart. there is something about putting words to one’s feelings and seeing those words on a safe writing blank space that makes everything better. it has saved max countless times over, that is until it hasn’t.

max’s dad has been surprising me since the beginning. the anchor, and stand up man that is as a character is genuinely refreshing where stories like these are concerned. he is a character i am grateful for. he is found in her eldest daughter’s room late at night after a long day. he worries about max, and doesn’t want her to stay out late, as it may affect her academics. it is powerful to only be asked to do well in school and nothing else. he then proceeds to speak about her mom, for the first time ever. he tells her how he met her mother, a petty thief from a world so different than what he had known. it must have been refreshing to not answer to familial demands, and be treated, and challenged as an equal. it must have been the newness of it all, but there was enough love between them for max to be given a place in the world.

verbal assurance matters. we tend to believe the effects of our life circumstances. we live by that belief until someone comes along and tells us that our minds are playing tricks on us. a definitive absolution and acceptance.

if he had only known, if he had only been told he says, he would have taken care of her, he would have loved her in an instant. his daughter would ask for nothing. the daughter assures her father everything is as it should be, if it wasn’t she wouldn’t be the brave, strong girl that she is. if it wasn’t, he would not be happy with the family he has now. elle, maxrill, and macy. macy, the present wife is a complicated character. macy, the wife that met the world’s standards is in earshot of the room where the conversation that matters is taking place. the door is open, almost giving her permission to listen in. and she does. and she breaks. and she’s a beautifully broken down human being. with wine and an embrace from her loyal but just as hurt daughter, macy attempts to collect pieces of her dignity and bravely keeps it together. i felt that. i felt issa and melizza who both impress every episode. it’s one of the most beautiful moments in the entire series. there’s more story to be told there. stories of mothers and daughters and girls and women and their plight, what hey have to endure, a respected place in the world, for acceptance, for love. goodness, for love. (reason number 345554345678844 for season 2 please and thank you! XD)

back at benison, teams max and deib are still reeling from their rift a plan of action - taguro and sensui together again. it’s the most sincere, funniest, most kilig version of of modern pass the message ever played that involved both friend groups. it gave us jealous deib, triggered max, and kilig tochiko and it got tagsen to crack. it also gave us a cast who has mastered the art of perfect timing with each other.

the mean girls are meaner than ever. elle, is in understandable pain. her own, and as an advocate for her mother. it’s aimee’s pride that is severely offended. she is  barely hanging on to her place in benison’s social hierarchy and jostling for deib’s attention. the key to both injuries is max’s removal from campus. a plan is hatched: hurt the girl, and  convince the queen bee whose name was once never dared to be spoken of to take up her place in benison again.

en route to the lockers, driven by a pang of jealousy, triggered by max's one word conformation, deib is eager to patch things up with the girl. unbeknownst to him, the girl in question is being followed through the hallways. the assailant got to the lockers, to max before deib ever did. max fought back just like she promised her dad, except, she doesn't win every fight. and this is one of her unlucky nights. deb found unconscious max sprawled across the hallway. in a fit of panic, and urgency to save her, in that moment, all bets, competition, tension and cold wars are off. deib carries max his arms to safety.

she wakes up in a hospital bed surrounded by her friends, her teacher, her parents, dazed and confused, not knowing how she got there in the first place. her doctor explains she suffered a head trauma, good thing her friend found her and brought her to the hospital. said friend in question sits quietly by her bedside. a ghost of a grateful smile appears on her lips, as she catches the glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. for a moment, she basks in being the hero of the day. she basks in being her hero.

upon further questioning, it is determined that she does not remember anything. max’s dad wants to have the case investigated. the hero of the day. he introduces himself as deib lhor enrile. the father who is meeting the boy for the first time has heard about him. heroic acts lose their value for people whose unfaltering reputation precedes them. it’s going to be an uphill battle for thee girl’s affections, and her father’s approval. this is just the starting point.

max’s classmates wait patiently outside her room. the conversation of choice is max and elle’s family set up, initially a little less discreet until the chatter caught elle’s ire. they had no idea of the ties that bind the two girls. that is until deib chimes in. family is important to max and elle, he says, much to everyone’s surprise. 

how could he ever know? this is the same question i had regarding episode five. i was reminded that i had tweeted my confusion about max’s sudden outburst and max and deib’s ensuing confrontation. while we understand friendship fights, max and deib’s just seemed a little to unwarranted, and a little to personal. we get a flashback of max in deib’s room, talking about family sealed with pinky promises, vouched for by an elementary school award in trustworthiness.

i cried. that broke me. butterflies for kilig are fine, but the older you get the more conversation matters. the desire to be seen, to have others be witness to your existence, to validate your journey. the older you get. the small acts of kindness make up grand love. now we understand.

back at the hospital, everything is going well with max’s family unit, which includes macy and elle. she is about to rest when she gets a call from her uncle and grandmother. aside from max, her lola and tito get to speak to maxim too. they get to thank max’s dad for sponsoring her grandmother’s medicines. striking is macy’s reaction to her husband’s helping hand, then we are reminded that she did not know how to feel about her husband’s act of charity. it’s a small thing, but this show wins with their attention to detail.

max becomes her old, spunky mindoro self. brave, astig, angas. all in front of the new family who despite trying, despite the love, she has been tiptoeing around. they saw her loud and strong, even deib did, and for some that whole picture broke me. there is something so sad, yet so victorious about instinctively letting people, especially those you’ve been impossibly proper around, see who you truly are. in some ways it’s also a slap in their faces, a wake up call to allow people to be who they truly are. thank you for that moment.

on a moment of authenticity is where this episode ends. a moment of peace, tentative. consider this the first dig in a deeper excavation of character and history that will make up this love story. i remember tagging this episode six and episode seven twin episodes. i might be a week late but i am excited to revisit that. 

just infinite amounts of gratitude for this show, and it’s substance, and its heart, and boundless love for the kids, the cast of characters who are all special, who all have my heart. just for giving me something to write, and keeping me sane, i owe this show a lot.

 love and gratitude.

#tv: he's into her #tv

[sasslightertm-a]

seethem-dancing replied to your post: seethem-dancing replied to your video: “But I...

I’ve always been admittedly envious - in the most appreciating/positive sense - of the people capable of making vids. Particularly due to being incurably unskilled in that department myself (i.e the Prue and Chris parallel vid with a Skyscraper cover will likely continue to exist strictly in concept in my head). You’re doing a doubtlessly good job with your Chris videos. What especially stands out is how you don’t neglect any dimension of his character. Because some Chris related appreciation videos and/or Chris fics either completely eliminate the side of him displayed in earlier episodes where he was perceived by his family - unbeknownst to them - as shady and untrustworthy due to that handful of controversial choices he made. Which is upsetting because it only further highlighted how many similarities there were between Chris & his family, how he wasn’t above moral slips but still chose to ultimately be on the side of good, how he tried his best to navigate the unfamiliar role of a Whitelighter (and unlike Paige he could neither admit to being only half Whitelighter nor had a guidance in a form of Leo. Who neglected Chris for his whole life in the initial timeline & outright abused him in the new one) & made sure to give the sisters a necessary encouragement (“you look amazing”, “your new power helped save Piper”, “you’re the one who got me here”) despite constant jibes against him. 

Chris being initially framed as a shady neurotic whitelighter only strengthened the eventual reveal in Chris Crossed about how he was the flawed hero of this story. Who chose to adhere to his morals & the right cause DESPITE the impossible situation & occasional mistakes (and countless chances to not fight for that cause). Another extreme - which infuriates me even more - is how some legitimately insist Chris became “weak” in the later half of the season and completely disregard his emotionally vulnerable side in their works because of their ingrained sexism & victim blaming idea that a man strongly responding to stress&trauma automatically becomes less manly or competent. This is also a blatant falsehood because Chris’ propensity for repressing his traumas only for them to come rushing back with triple capacity later was established from the get go - i.e Chris’s exclamation about needing protection from Wyatt in 6X01 echoed in their exchange in Chris Crossed. Where Chris TRIES to look defiant but breaks down instantly upon actually facing his brother&realizing he might not be able to save him due to being dragged back to the dark future. In Witchstock ONLY a great grandson who’s been patted on the head for doing a good job could give Grams that adorably shy smile when she commended him in the end & his facade dropped momentarily. It is also worth highlighting how Chris’s heightened vulnerability was the result of watching his family die in front of him AGAIN (“you can’t be dead YET. It’s not your time”) in this new timeline - that he sacrificed everything to make better for them - and Chris blamed himself for that. The actual strength of character is represented by the fact that Chris still remained devoted to the cause (dying for it eventually) in the face of that pain

That he didn’t dwell on anger or bitterness related to Leo and Wyatt’s abuse, forgave Leo the moment the latter showed his willingness to be there for his family & was shocked to find out Wyatt became evil due to trauma. When Chris himself had an innumerable amount of those&still chose to be a hero. His character has so many layers therefore people disregarding some of them is extremely unfortunate. 

To be honest, I’m using Windows Movie Maker for my vids which is pretty much the most basic video-making program there is. But thank you! I try.

It annoys me too whenever people either dismiss or outright ignore aspects of Chris’ character that they don’t like or because they think it makes him “weak”. That being said, my thoughts on Chris/Bianca are complicated and I need to write them all down at some point.

There’s also another part of the fandom that’s almost determined to completely woobify Chris and put him through the emotional wringer even more than canon did. And yeah, his original future was dark but please let him have at least some happiness! (Which, to be honest, was probably when he was being raised by Victor but I digress.)

On your point about “Witchstock”... *points to this gifset & creatingxdragons’ tags* Chris was totally excited about getting to meet THE Grams and only let that slip with that adorable smile once it was clear that she’d survived the slime demon and was back to her usual non-hippie self.

Chris is one of the most complex characters on Charmed, so seeing people disregard some of his complexity... yeah. No. 

I love this fictional character and will never ever be over how his arc was handled. He literally went back in time to save his brother’s soul and SACRIFICED HIMSELF for his family and uggghhh your fave could never.

I will never ever be over this shady pretty neurotic angel, okay?

#seethemdancing #[ send H E L P ] #[ I'm drowning in Chris feels over here ] #( seethemdancing | Meta )

[archerton84-blog]

BoJack Horseman season 5 spoiler-free review

“I tell you buddy, this is going to be an exceptional season of television…”

Over the span of five seasons, BoJack Horseman has proven itself to be many things. It is of course an animated series about a self-absorbed horse actor’s struggles through life’s many hurdles, but BoJack Horseman is also a friend. BoJack Horseman is an enemy. BoJack Horseman is a therapist, and it is escapism. It is a mirror. But BoJack Horseman is also just a television show, which is why it is so impressive when it so perfectly captures the human condition. It can also make its audience laugh and cry and want to be better. BoJack Horseman is art and its newest season continues to evolve the show and its characters in exciting and challenging ways.

BoJack Horseman season five begins with dialogue that feels like it could be said by BoJack at any point in the series. "Nothing's lonelier than a party,” he muses. “Good thing I don't need anyone, or I might feel lonesome." For a moment it looks like BoJack has made the ultimate emotional backslide after much of the progress that happened back in season four. But then it becomes abundantly clear that this isn’t BoJack, merely his latest role, who just happens to share disturbing parallels to the actor. BoJack is forced to re-live past traumas through episodes of his new show, “Philbert.” John Philbert’s house even inexplicably looks identical to BoJack’s, as if its purpose is to intentionally get BoJack lost between real life and fiction.

This reflexive, self-referential direction for the character isn't exactly new territory for the show. But the way in which BoJack's new alter ego, Philbert, cuts so deeply into who he is and what he's done—especially after all the soul searching and mistakes BoJack has made—feels particularly poignant this time. It’s a clever device for BoJack to confront his past. This is the ultimate way for BoJack to finally come to terms with who he is and it’s all too fitting for this series that BoJack requires a fictional character to reach this degree of honesty and intimacy with himself.

“Philbert,” BoJack’s new gig, is a gritty detective drama, but it’s a huge satire on “troubled men” shows as well. The series also broaches the important idea of how shows like Mad Men, Breaking Bad, or Ray Donovan can make audiences feel less guilty about their own poor actions and how dangerous this is. The icing on the cake is that this conversation also applies to BoJack Horseman itself as the show wades through continually shaky territory with its own flawed protagonist. No other show knows how to get meta and poke fun at Hollywood and the television and film industries like BoJack Horseman.

BoJack Horseman season five explores the intricacies and dangers of relationships, whether they’re romantic, professional, or just of a friendly, platonic nature. Furthermore, while this has very much been a series that wears its cynicism on its sleeve, this season reinforces the importance of following your dreams and not giving up. However make no mistake, this is still a show where an entire cold open can be dominated by someone sobbing or characters will use trusted secrets as emotional blackmail against each other.

This has never been a series that’s afraid to dig deep and show people at their worst or most raw, and this year is no different. However, with so many characters now in reactionary places, this season deals with much more vulnerable versions of these people. BoJack Horseman gets a lot of credit for how brilliantly it eschews the entertainment industry, but it also conveys and understands heartbreak, pain, and the dangers of addiction as genuinely as any of the all-time great dramas out there.

In what can often be a BoJack-heavy series, this season isn’t afraid to share the focus and take some of the spotlight off of its titular character. There are several episodes which dig into the problems of other characters, allowing the season to cover a broader perspective than purely what plagues BoJack. In fact, a lot of this season looks back to the painful childhoods of its characters to examine how their destructive trajectories began and perhaps how to break the cycle. This has been par for the course with BoJack, but this season extends this courtesy to the rest of its characters. It’s necessary for everyone to look back and examine their roots as they head into the next stages of their lives. Everyone is lost in some old version of who they are.

On that note, the majority of BoJack Horseman’s cast finds themselves in flux this season. BoJack really tries to think about others more than himself, but as altruistic as his actions are, they still seem to hurt people. BoJack is still selfish in many of the ways he’s always been, but this points to this older version of the character getting ready to settle down to some form of normalcy. BoJack did whole lot of living and five seasons in, it feels appropriate his character would be in this calmer, more reflective place.

Diane struggles with her existence as a divorcee and how her life functions without Mr. Peanut Butter and if can find a casual balance with him still in it. Diane has often been positioned as a mirror to BoJack’s character, even if they find themselves increasingly further away from each other. Diane’s story really rises to the forefront of this season and she feels more like BoJack Horseman’s second lead than she has in years.

Alternatively, much of Princess Carolyn’s material is consumed with her adoption efforts and fluctuating feelings on the matter. She still wants to further her life and spread her love, and the series doesn’t shy away from the complexities. This year really digs into the character’s constant workaholic tendencies and the difficulty of seeing if a family can fit into that lifestyle.

Some of the season’s best work comes from what it does with Todd. He continues to navigate life as an asexual, but begins to enter more areas of responsibility and growth, albeit in very Todd ways. It’s nice to see him get fleshed out into less of a caricature. In spite of Todd tackling more adult tasks this season, his storylines are in no danger of losing any of their absurd nature and they still fall together in a chaotic, happenstance way. One particularly ridiculous situation places Todd in a cartoonish sexual comedy of errors that wouldn’t be out of place in a Frasier episode, but it uses this absurd veneer to say something deeper on asexuality.

BoJack Horseman season five embraces important discussions on relevant social topics like sexual harassment and the male gaze. It’s not as if this hasn’t been previously critiqued by the show, but it really attempts to have a conversation about it now, and for good reason. There’s an entire episode on celebrity apology tours and their precarious reputation with the cyclical PR machine. It exposes the dangerous nature of overanalysing and creating stories where there are none. The show handles the topic as adeptly as anything else that it’s put in its crosshairs. It manages to say some very insightful things about responsibility while still operating with a precise, razor sharp wit. What makes this even more powerful is that it holds this paradigm up to BoJack himself and attempts to answer if he can probably atone for all of his mistakes.

BoJack Horseman also has a remarkable knack for presenting its season in a non-linear order that beautifully reframes events and characters in new and inventive ways. The series truly understands how to tell a story and the most powerful way to present its information to the audience. Another episode seamlessly splits its storyline into four variations on the same idea in order to show how much these characters have evolved and changed (or haven’t) over the course of twenty-five years. BoJack Horseman naturalises inventive story structures like this that would otherwise be daunting in a less seasoned series.

One remarkable episode is basically a darkly comic one-man show from Will Arnett where he delivers a staggering monologue about grief for the entire instalment. It’s an astonishing display of stream of consciousness and how humans process bad news. It’s one of the best performances of Arnett’s career and both his work and the script deserve Emmys. It’s perhaps the most moving, emotional thing the show has ever done and it’s episodes like this that are so purely, thoroughly BoJack Horseman.  As good or intelligent as other shows may be, this is the only show that pulls off risks like this.

BoJack Horseman season five does not disappoint and moves its show and characters forward in a way that most shows aren’t willing to explore. Some of the best work from the entire series is in this season and there are episodes as powerful as last season’s dementia entry or the silent underwater installment. Furthermore, this season contains no lull or period that drags in the middle, which is honestly a rarity with Netflix shows. This remains one of the few series that has more than enough content to fill their entire season.

Even though BoJack Horseman is as fresh as ever, it feels like the character is finally taking the steps that are necessary to give him some peace. The end of the season perfectly crystalizes not only the themes of this year, but also the larger lessons of the series as a whole, with startling clarity. It’s one of the strongest conclusions the show has done and it really sets things up for a powerful sixth season, which could very well be the end for the show. Season 5 proves it has plenty of life left, but much like one of Mr. Peanut Butter’s wives, it’ll surely want to leave the party early before it’s worn out its welcome.

Oh, and Diane gets a boss new haircut this season. Seriously.

BoJack Horseman season five arrives on Netflix on Friday the 14th of September.

Source: http://www.denofgeek.com/uk/tv/bojack-horseman/60298/bojack-horseman-season-5-spoiler-free-review