#✦ ⫽ aes ... red compels ̗ it stains.

[ambitiouslyher]

TAGS REDONE.

✦ ⫽ visuals ... wears a smile like a loaded gun ✦ ⫽ study ... no one wants a half-remembered tragedy. ✦ ⫽ muse ... it will stop your breath how cruel i can be. ✦ ⫽ aes ... red compels ̗ it stains. ✦ ⫽ lookbook ... anything can be a weapon if you wear it right. ✦ ⫽ desires ... we obsess ̗ it's in our nature. ✦ ⫽ main ... my touch is lethal ̗ my touch is power. ✦ ⫽ tmau ... how it ruined you ̗ name the organs it kissed. ✦ ⫽ marvel ... tastes like every dark thought you ever had. ✦ ⫽ double agent au ... a boxing ring where fools and devils put up their fists. ✦ ⫽ sxf au ... even with a bullet through your eye ̗ play your part and say your lines. ✦ ⫽ if i let him do this to me ̗ what else will i allow ? anything anything anything ... ninajason (spllledwlne). ✦ ⫽ we make each other alive ̗ does it matter if it hurts ... ninaloid (eleutheriya). ✦ ⫽ two strangers with each other's secrets ... nina and carol (danversiism). ✦ ⫽ nina and drucilla (spllledwlne). ✦ ⫽ nina and fujiko (eleutheriya). ✦ ⫽ my heart beats in the rhythm of threes ... NJLS.

✦ ⫽ ooc … my only coherent thought was: YIKES!

[comradeowl]

Endgame: Characterization, Steven Grant Rogers

As my first post on this mini-collection of essays, I will be focusing first on characterization. Specifically, the arcs of the characters and their overall development.

Now, I empathized and pumped my fist numerous times for Steve. The breakout of the 107th Regiment, Raiding the Red Skull’s base, bringing down HYDRA-infected SHIELD. His genuine desire to do good and help others selflessly is an admirable quality. It’s something that we should all aspire to in society. The refusal to give in even when things look bad solidifies The Hero in numerous stories, and that isn’t going away anytime soon. However, the Russo Bros took a direction that left me discomfited.

His general arc from Winter Soldier was the struggle to compromise his high ideals of the past with the cynicism of the present. To find some middle ground and live for something when everything you know has been ripped from you - your friends and family, your loved ones and the time that reflected your values and belief systems. I saw the group support scene in AE:4 and I had hoped that there would be consistency in accepting that the past is the past, and the only way to move on is to push towards the future. Then we got the time travel plot device and it just got rid of all the tension that IW built on - the sense of hopelessness and loss. What do we do?

Cap says: “Oh god.” 

It’s a nice motif at least, to end with breaking the most idealistic and convicted character of the setting. Strong writing. Good summation. Bleak cliffhanger that promised a great build up to the conclusion and finale of the Flagship characters who built the MCU.

Chris Evans did a top-notch job in portraying the man and like RDJ as Iron Man, there is no one who can Captain America like he can. There was hope in me that we could use previously established conflict to develop Steve. For example, say that Tony is still upset with Steve for hiding his parent’s murder from him. That for years he stood by as a friend and smiled, laughed, and lied right to his face even as he knew the Truth about the ‘car accident’ that was actually a double murder. Perhaps in a sense, Steve genuinely thought that he was doing good - in not opening old wounds and trying, desperately, to protect James Barnes at the same time. 

Then the Russos’ give us old man Steve and throw him into the past with his lady love and I promptly lose my shit, chuck my computer out of the window while ready to rip out my hair in frustration.

Wow. Just. Wow. They just turned his longing for Peggy into a character trait and abandoning his struggle to live in a modern world with his new family. What about Sam? What about James? What about the Avengers? Don’t they matter in the end? Also, didn’t Peggy Carter already live a great life without Steve? She had a husband, children and grandchildren, a wonderful family and a professional life that left behind a proud legacy. To just throw all of that under the bus disgusted me because I did like her Post-First Avenger. She was proud, fierce, and dedicated in her ideals to continue the great fight in Steve’s name. Then the founding and construction of SHIELD lead her into gray areas as she hardened and grew older, a complex portrayal even as she did questionable acts to make the world a better place. There! That’s a wonderful character right there and they just threw it all under the bus.

Age of Ultron did a great moment that highlighted how Steven’s still processing this new world - that empty ballroom with laughing and blood-stained soldiers. Peggy getting that last dance with him. At the end of it, he says: “I’m home,” and bursts into the training room with the new squad, smiling. Steve tries, he tries and he tries and he’s still not there yet. Joss Whedon, thank you for making that point, because it was a good choice and in Steve’s development. The writer/reader in me loved that, that he continued pushing forward even in doubt.

Endgame flushed that all down the toilet. I’ll tie it in with my Thor Character Assessment in my next post, but I thought that Mjolnir’s use as a macguffin to justify Steve’s moral purity and good man was cheap and unearned. Remember that Tony ‘still angry at Steve’ part of my post? Well, lets use this as an example - Steve finds that he can’t wield Thor’s hammer. He’s still weighed down by his guilt and shame for hurting Tony in the worst possible way. That in his acts to protect James, he winds up causing a tunnel collapse which kills civilians, including police officers in Civil War. In My!Endgame, underneath that presented ideal, Steve is more broken than let on. Here, there is no ‘magic’ time travel bullshit that provides a vehicle for nostalgia, and is a cheap and lazy way to write a compelling story. 

That’s the sort of Steven Rogers I wish we could have gotten. Steve is just a man who’s made horrible choices and evades any attempt to confront the Truth.

“God’s Righteous man. Pretending that you can live without a war.” - Ultron, Avengers: AoU (2015). 

When the dust settles - with Thanos dead and Tony’s sacrifice, Steve sets down Mjolnir. He decides to protect the Earth in honor of the friend he should have been. Joined by Sam, James, and Wanda, they come together to mourn their losses and reflect on the mistakes they make. Together, they step in tandem into a better and brighter future, to build a better one that Tony gave all of them the chance to.

Avengers, Assemble.

[spraffin]

03/04/17

MARCH 

I know tomorrow is going to come because I’ve seen it. Sunrise is going to come, all you have to do is wake up. The future has been at war, but it’s coming home so soon.

March arrived quietly; entered stage left without making too much noise, and sat down without a fuss. It came with a warm breeze and new hope, new self-worth, and new goals. When February had finished its perfomance, it had bowed with feigned humility, and clambered undaintily down from the stage. February knows how impressive it was. February wore me out with progress, and had me sleeping so often that it took me a while to notice how much harder I was living while I was awake. On the day of my audition, I was finally able to access the sweeping confidence I adopt whenever I feel fulfilled - the same confidence I use when I’m working with kids at Glen and at parties with new friends. I felt tall and upright and genuine. Tara from my building in Granton was there, and I was struck by my progress since leaving from the moment I greeted her - I considered her a close friend, but until then I don’t think we’d ever had a conversation in which I was properly focused on her, since I was always so overwhelmed by anxiety. We took part in a two hour workshop and I charged into it with more energy than I knew I had. I delivered my monologue one and a half times without panicking, and I was congratulated for an entertaining and engaging performance. Following this we were interviewed privately. A stern woman with curly hair who Fin had described to me as a “terror” talked softly to me about my options and why I’d left Granton a third of the way into my course. She was very gentle and told me how brave she thought I must be. A few days later, I got an unconditional offer.  The idea of a future is so strange and foreign when you’re in recovery. It’s overwhelming to suddenly be confronted with a limitless stream of possibilities that you never thought you’d see again - to be re-met by opportunities you’ve already mourned. I am confused, but excited. I’m getting stronger and stronger.

We are all going to be part of each other one day. The future is a blue sky and a full tank of gas.

I accepted the offer and thought hard about performing. There’s little I feel more wonderful doing. I love comedy, I love singing, I love pretending, I love making up bits on the spot. I love being looked at and admired and laughed at. Empathy makes me so much better at being entertaining. I love feeling huge and bright. I love other people and I love them in a crowd, whether they’re sat in rows beneath me or gathered around me at a party. My entire understanding of self-esteem is about performance. I can’t function without it so I’m going to learn how to do it better. 

March came with warm days and tough mornings, slow nights. I spent time with Lauryn and skipped rehearsal more than once and slept and played guitar. Rinse and repeat. But then came the end of the month, and the journey to Northamptonshire. 

TRAVELLING 

Lord I’m one, Lord I’m two, Lord I’m three, Lord I’m four, Lord I’m 500 miles from my home. 

I took my medication and climbed onto the coach, and slept until we reached Glasgow. It was dark and gorgeous and raining, and I grinned and wriggled in my seat and fell asleep again. Birmingham at six A.M. The sun rose through thick white fog while I sat in the dark rail station. I felt euphoric but so relaxed. I smiled hard as the train pulled into Northampton. I got on an eight A.M bus full of English school kids who yelled in abrasive shrill accents. Spencer and I found each other in Kettering, and the weight of our friendship was overwhelming and so sweet and thick and heavy like honey. 

The next few days passed in a blur of blankets and patterned curtains and sunlight glowing into a cup of tea. I basked in the rare and amazing gift of total comfort in the presence of someone else. Alice turned out to be the most beautiful cat in the world. Megan and I swapped books and we visited a country park with Spencer’s nieces. The kids were adorably goofy and charming and told us they knew being gay was okay because they watched Shane Dawson. We had ice creams and then headed home for noodles and incredibly cheap wine, the kind that tastes like acetone and should really be saved for when you’re drinking in a public park in your school uniform. We laughed - I remember laughter as an almost permanent state that I lived in while in England - and made beautiful art and ugly art and explored Northampton. I was glum and drained for the return journey, and found Birmingham ten times as beautiful at four A.M than I had the first time I’d passed through. Chinatown glowed red in the darkness, like the last embers of a fire, the wind biting. I walked back and forth for miles to kill time before the coach left. I made it home after fourteen hours and fell immediately into bed. 

Then, the days were tired and nerve-wracking. I napped on Lauryn and painted blue and green and gold onto her eyelids. Heather went to a job interview and I sat next to her smiling smugly, internally screaming “that’s my friend!”. Imogen and I went to see a singing competition. Lucy was immense as usual, belting angrily, so much power coming from a tower of five-foot-nothing, commanding attention in her uniquely compelling way. Rachael was angelic and soft and sweet, and her face exploded into a smile when she won. 

My family left for the Lake District on Friday evening, and I packed frantically for Edinburgh. I was overcome with anxiety - my ribs throttled my heart like a cage and I breathed as if it was my last chance. I knew I wouldn’t be going near Granton, but my head was reeling and spinning as I pictured Princes Street. I thought about the frost underneath my feet in Sighthill, the sun over Leith Walk, crying on the tram, crying on the bus, crying in the rain, crying in my bedroom. I remembered my panic and anxiety about my friends from Glen, and how fervently I believed that none of them could ever or had ever loved me. I took my medicine and slept for as long as I could bear. 

EDINBURGH

Olivia was texting me, and kept me distracted for much of the train journey, but the coldness rose up my throat and choked me, and when I stepped into the station something inside me collapsed. I was shaky, but I walked until the sun hit me, and then I found Josh and Rowan. It was hard, but I forced myself to focus, and concentrated with all of my might on where I was and who they were, and then I was okay. My hands shook while I ate lemon tart in Costa, at the same table I’d sat at when I’d seen Holly at the beginning of October. Rowan was gentle and I looked at her and not out of the window at the city. By the time Elyse had arrived, I was stable. 

We made it to the cathedral early, and the sunshine was streaming through the stained-glass and I was teasing Josh and Rowan about their affection for each other. We found Gordon immediately, then Kate, then Tembu, and I made Kerridge’s lip bleed when I jumped into a hug with her, and when I caught Ley-Anne she said “Did you bring the posters? Good. Oh yeah - also hello, and I love you.”  

Tembu chose Josh and me to represent SEC youth in a video for General Synod. The producers recorded me describing my experiences with faith, then followed me around with a camera for a while. We knelt down to write our favourite memories from camp on a huge paper banner. We squashed around a table littered with chainmail materials and Tembu brandished pliers. We ate lunch with the Glen DVDs blaring in the background, cries of nostalgia and joy echoing from every direction. Finally, we were herded into an ante-chapel where Claire Starr sat wielding a copy of Winnie the Pooh. Time for a little something. Kiron, Tembu’s youngest, climbed over my lap restlessly until I scooped him up and we headed outside to run around. 

I found Aidan and Hannah, Rebecca and Iain gaggled together underneath the cathedral, singing. Samuel climbed the wall and stood miles above us. Rebecca and I breezed into the ceilidh hall to watch the band set up. I saw Claire BE rush her way into a red dress and hurry back into the throng like a hero to organise it all. When Andrew arrived, everything felt warmer. I’d missed my best friend. I danced all but one dance, sweated and laughed and jumped and whooped and ran. There is nothing more fun than a ceilidh. There is no better way to wallow in the experience of your love for your friends. 

Emily guided me to the tomato quiche and stuffed me with samosas, and Rachel and Claire congratulated me on my recovery in the cold dark outside where we drank water and Taylor smoked. I was in my element all evening, making everyone laugh, and I was never lost for words. I feel like I am becoming myself again. I am better. 

We roared Auld Lang Syne and charged at each other in a messy overexcited throng. Rebecca was so lit up and happy, and I felt exactly how she looked. I was so lighthearted. The delegates left and the leaders pulled chairs into a wide, messy circle, pulling out beers and wine and cider, chatting excitedly. I chucked an ice pack at my twisted ankle, grinning wildly and teasing Taylor, yelling protests at anyone who made a face at my Lambrini. “Get a fucking life, Thalia!” “It costs £1.50, ya dick!” 

For to see her was to love her! Love but her, and love forever!

We entertained each other with stories and jokes and games. Before the circle finally dissipated into several groups, Mark got up and sang Ae Fond Kiss. His voice filled the room and I watched as everyone closed their eyes, sat back, let it spill over them. I felt lucky. I feel lucky.

Kirsty and I shrieked with laughter twenty times per conversation, and Kerridge ranted about her overwhelming affection for me only three ciders in. Ley-Anne and I spoke quietly about all that had happened to us and I plaited her hair. I felt the night come in strong as I flitted between the clusters of my friends, laughing and chatting to each and every one of them. I drank Taylor’s rum and we held hands and giggled with Neil for hours on end. We charged into the kitchen area at three A.M like animals to a watering hole to eat bread and red velvet cake, and then I grabbed my blanket and we settled down on the floor and finally fell asleep. 

We woke because we were cold. My teeth chattered, and we climbed first to the thermostat and then to the plate of leftover quiche. Hannah ambled over to sit in front of our radiator, grumbling up a storm with sleep in her eyes. Everything was so easy. When did everything get so easy? 

Mark addressed the cathedral and told us all that Glen fuels his ministry. Tembu thanked us and God for the camp. I am so lucky. I am so lucky. Samuel and I read the intercessions and I gave Andrew the card I made for him and Rachel. It took so long to extricate myself from the group - farewell hugs occupied us for fifteen minutes. I can’t believe I once feared I’d never be back with these friends. I headed down Princes Street in the brilliant sunlight to find Jodie and Rebecca in the gardens. We ate lunch under a tree and chatted a little sleepily but so happily. 

I am tired now, but I can see how fast I’m improving. I want to feel ambitious again, and I’m working so hard. I’m really, really proud of myself.