#I like her distinction about Mary being the only one who has had to grapple with trying to make her life her own

[daydreamerdrew]

Writer Josie Campbell in her AIPT Comics interview on her Mary characterization in the upcoming The New Champion of Shazam! miniseries.

[lochtayboatsong]

The Jesus Christ Superstar essay absolutely no one asked for.

Last weekend, I watched the pro-shot of the 2012 arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar starring Ben Forster, Tim Minchin, and Melanie C, because it was Easter and it was up on YT for the weekend.  I never managed to do my annual listen-through of Leonard Bernstein’s Mass this year, as is my usual Easter tradition, so I figured “Why not watch/listen to this instead?”  It was my first time seeing and hearing JCS in full, and Y’ALL, it has been living rent-free in my brain ever since.  I have a mighty need to get my thoughts out, so here they are, in chronological order by song.  

1) Prologue: I love the way JCS 2012 makes use of the arena video screen.  The production design and concept clearly took a lot of inspiration from the “Occupy ______” movement, which makes it feel a bit dated now.  But every single production of JCS is a product of its time period, so this is a feature and not a bug.  

2) Heaven On Their Minds: This is a straight-up rock song.  It wouldn’t be out of place on any rock and roll album released between 1970 and 2021, and it boggles my mind that Webber and Rice were both in their early twenties when they wrote it.  Also, the lyric “You’ve begun to matter more than the things you say” hits hard no matter the year.

3) What’s the Buzz: A+ use of the arena screens again, this time bringing in social media to set the tone.  Also, this song establishes right from the outset that Jesus is burnt out and T I R E D by this point in the story.  Seriously, can we just let this man have a nap?

4) Strange Thing Mystifying: Judas publicly calls out Mary and Jesus claps back.  Folx, get you a partner who will defend your honor the way Jesus defends MM in this scene.  Also Jesus loses his shoes and is mostly barefoot for the remainder of the show.

5) Everything’s Alright: Okay, this is one of the songs I have A LOT to say about.  First, it’s important to know that I was a church musician throughout all of my adolescence and into my early adulthood.  The pianist at the services I usually played at was a top-notch jazz pianist, and also my piano teacher for about six years while I as in high school and undergrad.  (Incidentally, I had a HUGE crush on his son, who was/is a jazz saxophonist and clarinetist and also played in the church band, but that’s a story for another day.)  One of the hymns we played a few times a year was called “Sing of the Lord’s Goodness,” which is notable for being in 5/4 time.  Whenever this hymn was on the schedule, it was usually the recessional, or the last song played as the clergy processed out and the congregation got ready to leave, so we were able to have some fun with it.  After a couple verses the piano player and his son would usually morph it into “Take Five,” a famous jazz standard by Dave Brubeck which is also in 5/4 time.  Anyway, the first time I listened to this song in full, it got to Judas’s line “People who are hungry, people who are starving,” and I sat bolt upright and went “HOLY SHIT THIS IS ‘SING OF THE LORD’S GOODNESS/TAKE FIVE.’”  And I was ricocheted back in time to being fourteen and trying to keep up with this father/son duo in a cavernous Catholic church while simultaneously making heart-eyes at the son.  Final note: This is the only song in the musical to feature all three leads (Jesus, Judas, and Mary Magdalene) and is mostly Jesus and MM being soft with each other in between bouts of Jesus and Judas snarling at one another.

6) This Jesus Must Die: I LOVE that all the villains in this production are in tailored suits.  LOVE IT.  Also, Caiaphas and Annas are a comedy duo akin to “the thin guy and the fat guy,” except in this case it’s “the low basso profundo and the high tenor.”  Excellent use of the arena video screen again, this time as CCTV.

7) Hosanna: My background as a church musician strikes back again.  It honestly took me two or three listens to catch it, but then I had another moment of sitting bolt upright and going “HOLY SHIT THIS IS A PSALM.”  Psalms sung in church usually take the form of call-and-response, with a cantor singing the verses and the congregation joining in for the chorus.  If I close my eyes during this song, I have no trouble imagining Jesus as a church cantor singing the verses and then bringing the congregation in for the “Ho-sanna, Hey-sanna” chorus. 

8) Simon Zealotes: This is part “Gloria In Excelsis” and part over-the-top Gospel song.  Honestly it’s not my favorite, but it marks an important mood change in the show.  The end of “Hosanna” is probably Jesus at his happiest in the entire show, and then Simon comes in and sours the mood by trying to tip the triumphant moment into a violent one.  Jesus is not truly happy again from this moment on.

9) Poor Jerusalem: Also not my fave.  It kinda reads like Webber and Rice realized that Jesus didn’t have a solo aria in Act I, so they came up with this.  But it has the distinction of containing the lyric, “To conquer death you only have to die,” which is the biggest overarching theme of the story.

10) Pilate’s Dream: Pontius Pilate might be the most underrated role in this entire show, and I love that this production has him singing this song while being dressed in judge’s robes.  

11) The Temple: The first half of this is one of the campiest numbers in Act I, at least in this production, and it’s awesome.  The second half is one of the saddest, as Jesus tries to heal the sick but finds there are too many of them.  Also the whole scene is almost entirely in 7/8 time, which I think is just cool.

12) I Don’t Know How To Love Him: Mary Magdalene’s big aria, and one of the songs I knew prior to seeing the full-length show.  This production has MM taking off her heavy lipstick and eye makeup onstage, mid-song, which is kind of cool.  Melanie C says in a BTS interview that MM’s makeup is her armor, so this is a Big Symbolic Moment.

13) Damned For All Time: The scene transition into this song is played entirely in pantomime, and I love it.  The solo guitarist gets to be onstage for a bit, A+ use of the video screen again to show Judas on CCTV, etc.  Love it.  And then this song is Judas frantically rationalizing what he’s doing, and what he’s about to do, with Caiphas and Annas just reacting with raised eyebrows and knowing looks.

14) Blood Money: This is where the tone of the show really takes a turn for the dark.  I think this might be one of Tim Minchin’s finest moments as Judas, because his facial expressions and microexpressions throughout this scene speak absolute volumes.  And the offstage chorus quietly singing “Well done Judas” as he picks up the money is a positively chilling way to end Act I.

15) The Last Supper: Act II begins with major “Drink With Me” vibes.  (Except JCS came WAY before Les Miz, so it’s probably more accurate to say that “Drink With Me” has major “The Last Supper” vibes.)  Jesus and Judas have their knock-down, drag-out fight, and it’s honestly heartbreaking, thanks again to Tim Minchin’s facial expressions.  A well-done production of JCS will really convey that Jesus and Judas were once closer than brothers, even though their relationship is at breaking point when Act I begins.

16) Gethsemane: This is Jesus’s major showpiece and one of my faves.  Jesus knows he has less than 24 hours to live, he knows he’s going to suffer, and worst of all, he doesn’t know whether it’s going to be worth it.  It’s an emotional rollercoaster to watch and to perform, and it goes on for ages: something like 6 or 7 minutes.  Fun fact: the famous G5 is not written in the score.  Ian Gillan, who played Jesus on the original concept album, just sang it that way, so most subsequent Jesuses have also done it that way.  Lindsay Ellis has a great supercut of this on YT.  John Legend notably sang the line as written during the 2018 concert.  

17) The Arrest: Judas’s Betrayer’s Kiss is played differently across different productions.  The 2012 version is pretty tame - I’ve seen clips and gifs of other productions, including the 2000 direct-to-video version, where they kiss fully on the mouth and have to be dragged apart by the guards and it is THE MOST TENDER THING.  Then the 7/8 riff from “The Temple” comes back and the 2012 version lets the video screen do its thing again as Jesus is swarmed by reporters.

18) Peter’s Denial: Not much to say about this one, as it’s basically a scene transition.  But it’s a significant moment in the Passion story, so I’m glad they included it.

19) Pilate and Christ: The 2012 production continues with the theme of Caiaphas, Annas, and Pilate all being bougie af, since Pilate intentionally looks like he just came from tennis practice during this scene.  Also he does pilates...hehehe.

20) King Herod’s Song: Tim Minchin says in a BTS interview that JCS works best when Jesus and Judas are played seriously and the rest of the production is allowed to be completely camp and wild and bizarre all around them, and he is bloody well CORRECT about that.  Case in point: King Herod.  There is not a single production of JCS that I know of where Herod is played “straight.”  He’s been played by everyone from Alice Cooper to Jack Black, and everyone puts a different zany spin on him.  In JCS 2012 he’s a chat show host in a red crushed velvet suit, who is clearly having the time of his LIFE. 

21) Could We Start Again Please: This is another of my faves.  Just a quiet moment where MM, Peter, and the disciples try to grapple with the fact that Jesus is arrested and things are going very, very badly.  This is also my favorite Melanie C moment of the 2012 show.  Her grief is very real, and the little moment she has with Peter at the end is very real.

22) Death of Judas: This is basically Tim Minchin screaming for about five minutes, and incredibly harrowing to watch on first viewing.  

23) Trial Before Pilate: Possibly my single favorite scene in the entire 2012 production.  This is another harrowing watch, but there’s so much to take in.  The “set” that the entire show takes place on is essentially just a massive staircase, and the people with power are almost always positioned above the people without power.  In this scene, the crowd shouting “Crucify Him!” is positioned above Pilate, which is a very telling clue to Pilate’s psychology during this scene.  Jesus is at the very bottom of the stairs, of course.  Excellent use of the video screen once again during the 39 Lashes, to show the lash marks building and building until the entire screen is a wash of red.  Pilate’s counting also gets more and more frantic, especially starting around “20.”  And all the while the guitar riff from “Heaven On Their Minds” is playing.  Jesus’s line “Everything is fixed and you can’t change it” is played quite differently in different productions - here it’s defiant, but elsewhere (in JCS 2000 for example) it’s almost tender, like Jesus is absolving Pilate for his part in the trial.  But it always ends the same - with Pilate almost screaming as he passes the sentence and “washes his hands” of the whole sorry business. 

24) Superstar: The most over-the-top number in the show.  Judas, who died two scenes ago, comes back to sing this.  There are soul singers.  There are girls in skimpy angel costumes.  The parkour guys from the prologue are back.  Judas pulls a tambourine out of hammerspace midway through the song.  And Jesus is silently screaming and crying as he gets hoisted onto a lighting beam while all this is going on.

25) The Crucifixion: More of a spoken-word piece than a song, it’s Jesus’s final words on the cross over eerie piano music, and another harrowing watch.

26) John 19:41: An instrumental piece in which Jesus is taken from the cross and carried, at last, to the top of the stairs, before being lowered out of sight as the video screen turns into a memorial wall and everything fades to black.

So.  I know I’m anywhere from three to fifty-one years late to this particular party, but I am on the JCS bandwagon now and I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.  :)

[dweemeister]

Yi Yi (2000, Taiwan)

At the beginning of Edward Yang’s Yi Yi (translated as “A one and a two…”), the film samples a piece adapted from the final movement of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9. That movement, containing the “Ode to Joy” (its lyrics from a poem of the same name), was the composer’s refutation of a belief he held when he was younger – the necessity for heroic revolutionary leaders to deliver freedom to the masses. Napoleon’s declaration of himself as Emperor and the decisions made by the Congress of Vienna in 1804 and 1814-1815, respectively, obliterated political freedoms across Europe in favor of repressive police states. Beethoven was disillusioned by these developments. By the time of the Ninth Symphony’s debut, he was completely deaf and had endured decades of intense suffering. Within the lyrics in the “Ode to Joy” was Beethoven’s statement celebrating Enlightenment ideals – universal brotherhood in diversity, liberty, and an individual’s right to the pursuit of happiness. The pursuit of happiness, of course, guarantees neither happiness nor self-fulfillment, as Beethoven himself must have known. In that spirit, Edward Yang’s final film follows a middle-class Taiwanese family as each family member grasps for meaning and purpose. Films as keenly observant of the daily joys and disappointments of life such as Yi Yi are rare. It is a masterpiece of filmmaking and human drama.

Just before the turn of the twentieth to the twentieth-first century in Taipei lives the Jian family. Father NJ (Wu Nien-jen), mother Min-Min (Elaine Jin), teenage daughter Ting-Ting (Kelly Lee), and eight-year-old son Yang-Yang (Jonathan Chang) are attending the wedding reception of Min-Min’s brother A-Di (Chen His-Sheng). Shortly after the reception, Min-Min’s mother (Tang Ru-yun) falls ill and has a stroke. After emergency intervention and treatment in the hospital, she remains comatose following her discharge. But even before this development, Edward Yang has been laying the groundwork for his film’s intricate, but comprehensible, structure.

The film divides its time between the Jians, maintaining a delicate balance throughout (even if Min-Min is largely absent in the film’s second half). Downstairs from the wedding reception, NJ has a chance encounter with his ex-girlfriend Sherry (Ko Su-yun). Sherry wants to reconnect, answer lingering questions. Years removed from their relationship, NJ is busy with an unfulfilling job and an incoming visitor in Japanese businessman Mr. Ota (Issey Ogata). Min-Min – who falls into a depression upon seeing her mother’s comatose state – leaves for a Buddhist monastery well after Yi Yi settles into its rhythm. She only resurfaces just before the conclusion. At fourteen years old, Ting-Ting is witnessing others pursue romance as she develops romantic feelings of her own. As many former teenagers know, those are awkward years, guided by nothing resembling one’s present wisdom. The target of his classmates’ bullying and frequent condescending remarks from his teacher, Yang-Yang goes about his life mostly alone. Yet in his loneliness and quiet, he observes others astutely. “Daddy,” he asks, “I can’t see what you see and you can’t see what I see. How can I know what you see?… can we only know half of the truth?”

Yi Yi’s characters grapple with the unknowable, the misunderstood, and the unspoken truths that are just in front of them. Their stories interweave with each other’s, forming a current rippling gently through each of their lives. Characters are occasionally seen through windows with the camera positioned outside – at times obscured by a glare, at times seen clearly. In the former, the glare suggests the barriers of communication and temperament people develop for their own survival and sanity, or perhaps to delay something unpleasant and inevitable. When no glares are present, there is less conversational or behavioral pretense. But in those moments, the characters’ feelings of isolation – from family, friends, or society – envelop the frame. In each instance, Yang (who also wrote the film’s screenplay) and cinematographer Yang Wei-han (1985’s Taipei Story, 2008’s 1895) capture each character’s disorientation in navigating the course of their lives amid a bustling metropolis. These shots through the window also encapsulate how difficult it is for us to understand the perspectives of others. Yang-Yang could be onto something; maybe the best we can hope for is to know half of any human truth.

Those who have seen their share of Japanese cinema may already know what a pillow shot is (or at least the concept of one without knowing the term), and Yang uses something like this technique Yasujirô Ozu perfected in order to have the audience reflect on the scene that has just occurred. Instead of a silent moment intercut with shots of sides of buildings, power lines, neon signs, or tea kettles, Yang elects to have additional dialogue or music. Perhaps it comes in the form of Mr. Ota singing “Sukiyaki” (a song wracked with bitter disappointment in its lyrics) and following up by playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata while tipsy (Beethoven yet again!), Ting-Ting being annoyed by vocal patrons in a bagel joint, or Yang-Yang escaping his furious teacher by walking into a darkened auditorium where a different class is watching a science documentary. These moments, like Ozu’s pillow shots, have little to do with the film’s overarching storylines. They might serve as moments of characterization but they are, generally, instances of cinematic punctuation. Oftentimes, that punctuation is an ellipses, as many – not all – of the film’s most pivotal moments occur off-screen.

What does Yang unearth in these moments of reflection? The clash of Taiwanese and Western life elements is an aspect of Yi Yi – one could conceivably interpret the film of how the latter has disrupted the former to the detriment of the characters – but Yang does not seem interested in crafting a polemic. Some viewers who might not be as well-versed in modern Asian culture might be surprised by how simultaneously cosmopolitan and traditional Yi Yi may feel. A comedic trip to McDonalds, the Western cultural products, and the use of English in all conversations between NJ and Mr. Ota aside, the issues and conflicted feelings that arise are universal. Yi Yi does not challenge Confucian mores of family and traditional relationships, even if it occasionally pokes fun at tradition. Even though both of the Jian kids are largely left to their own devices (a combination of their father’s long work hours and their mother’s leave of absence to the monastery), they do not defy authority figures for the sake of defiance.

There are a handful of supporting figures in the film that are having sordid affairs. But these affairs, according to the film, are pathetic and self-debasing – no additional commentary required. Through the prisms of love or friendship, each character is lonely in some fashion. Each family member, with Yang-Yang the exception, acts upon their longing for connection, romantic or platonic, in search of their evolving (and, arguably, never fully-formed) idealizations of how their lives should be. Family life is not the sole defining foundation of modern human existence, as Yang is acutely aware of. And yet, even amid emotional strife and the flurry of activity across the film’s 173 minutes, it is the most stable, predictable, and life-affirming part of each character’s life.

At first glance, it might seem that Yang-Yang is a passive young boy, who only allows things to happen to him. It is difficult to describe this in a reasonable amount of time, but Yang-Yang goes about his life silently, undemandingly, without pursuing childhood notions of friendship or first crushes. It seems Yang-Yang is always observing with his eyes and the lens of his camera. The photos he takes capture things and facets of others that never appear in photographs – the other side of the half of the truth humans can understand. Upon the first presentation of these photos and the ideas behind them to his classmates and teacher, derision follows. But Yang-Yang’s wisdom appears in the film’s final minutes in solemn voice and an acceptance beyond his years. Maybe Yang-Yang’s motivations disappear with age and the pressing concerns of modernity, but his burden is now the viewer’s to bear.

Yi Yi cannot be as effective as it is without its ensemble cast. Though most of the cast are understated, each of their characters occupy their individual stillness and silences in their respective ways. As NJ, Wu Nien-jen portrays a middle-aged man better at internalizing a conflict of personalities than intervening in one. His presence always seems deep in thought, even if he cannot find the words to say immediately how he feels. For Kelly Lee as Ting-Ting, the character is soon to enter her early adult years to a world already so different from when she was younger. Lee’s elegant screen persona reminds me of the many silent film waifs – reticent, shy, earnest – that the likes of Mary Pickford might have played once. Jonathan Chang, the film’s anchor in Yang-Yang, portrays his character without any noticeable exaggerations in voice or physical movement. In silence, Chang makes his presence felt in translating a character exactly as written. And though just a supporting character with little screentime, Issey Ogata as Mr. Ota assumes a bilingual charm – and perhaps the closest the film ever comes to blurring the distinction between screenwriter and character.

This, Edward Yang’s final film before his untimely death in 2007, is the motion picture that cemented his reputation outside Taiwan. Premiering at the 2000 Cannes Film Festival, Yi Yi garnered widespread acclaim, a nomination for the Palme d’Or, and a Best Director win for Yang. His reputation across the world has only increased in recent years, thanks to home media releases of this film, Taipei Story (1985), and the dramatic epic A Brighter Summer Day (1991).

Viewers could mourn Yang’s passing as an auteur who never lived to become an international living legend of a director, or the sheer democratization and globalization of cinema that has taken place in the early twenty-first century that would have made such a distinction possible. Instead, in just considering Yi Yi by itself, we have a complete movie – one where every frame has purpose, and the viewer can accept the person that they have become and may still be. Yi Yi affirms a message that Yang and composer Peng Kai-li quote, musically, in the film’s opening minutes. The individual freedom to find one’s own happiness and fulfillment will result in suffering. Such is to exist. Such is to be human. In that suffering, one experiences the possibilities of empathy and the fullness of their humanity.

My rating: 10/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Yi Yi is the one hundred and sixty-third feature-length or short film I have rated a ten on imdb. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Royal Purple, Moon Silver

pretty short, but i wanted to test out this friendship

Word count: 1873

——————

Ever since the kids came back, Sunday Sessions were a bit…difficult to put on. Most of the queens became busy doing things after shows or in free time with their children, and those who were left didn’t see a point in going when it would only be them and the music director. So the only one who ever showed up was the pianist, and she had to be the one to explain to the fans why there were so many delays. Most of them understood, others didn’t and were angry. She was angry, too. In fact, she found herself getting mad a lot more often ever since the kids waltzed into their lives. It’s like they owned everything now!

“Oh, poor baby,” A voice crooned.

Joan whirled around in her chair as Mary walked over. The ex-princess began to massage her shoulders with her nails dug in, making Joan wince.

“What’s wrong? The loneliness getting to you again?” Mary said in the voice Joan heard Cathy talking to Mae with. Baby talk.

Joan slapped her hands away, but they grappled onto her shoulders and held tightly.

“Don’t hit me, pest,” Mary spat. She cleared her throat quickly and then chuckled when she felt Joan quaking slightly beneath her palms. She sneered. “Shaking already? You truly are pathetic.”

“What do you want now?” Joan growled.

“Oh, nothing,” Mary said. She raised a hand to caress one of Joan’s cheeks. “Just checking on the most worthless person in this building.” Her nails tickled the skin on the girl’s face as she trailed her fingers down to her neck. “Surprised you aren’t hanging, yet.”

“Get the fuck away from me.” Joan seethed, But Mary just cackled her hyena-laugh at her attempts to be fierce.

“Oh, you’re absolutely adorable! Really!” She said. “Perhaps that’s all you have going for you now. Not that anyone sees this little lamb face anymore. Everyone is caught up and me and my siblings. Nobody has time for you anymore.”

Mary stooped down and leaned in close to Joan. Her hot breath tickles the music director’s ear.

“Face it, Joan,” She whispered. “You aren’t wanted.”

“What’s going on?”

Mary and Joan both turned to see Elizabeth and Edward standing in the doorway. Elizabeth stepped in cautiously, eyeing her older sister like a bomb that was about to detonate, then slid her gaze over to Joan. Edward stood by the door, his expression unreadable.

“Something wrong is going on here.” Elizabeth said slowly.

“Yes!” Joan suddenly yelled. She didn’t know where this burst of confidence came from, but it was bubbling up from her throat and spewing from her mouth before she had time to consider her words. “There is, and I can tell you what!” She spun around to Mary, pointing. “Your sister treats me like I’m some kind of alien! Do you know what kind of things she says to me?”

“Joan,” Mary warned. “Hold your tongue.”

“I will not!” Joan cried. She turned back to Elizabeth, eyes pleading. “Please! You have to tell your mums! They’ll never believe me, but if you could vouch for my claim—” She stepped forward and extended her hands to clasp Elizabeth’s, but was instead slapped so hard she fell backwards. Shocked, she froze on the floor, staring up at Elizabeth, who was shaking her hand in the air.

“Ow,” She muttered. “That kinda stung. Yikes.”

Joan’s cheek burned- Elizabeth had no idea how badly her hit really hurt.

“You’ll get used to it,” Mary said, gliding over to her sister’s side.

“Really?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “What, do you get callouses or something?”

“No, you just learn to focus on the pain you inflict than the recoil of the action.”

“Huh.” Elizabeth looked back down at her palm. “Interesting.”

“Y—” Elizabeth and Mary’s heads snap down to the girl on the floor. “You were in on it?”

“In on what?” Elizabeth echoed. “This wasn’t some grand scheme, Joan. It was a little joke. But yes, I was. And it was great! You should have seen your face!”

Joan’s cheeks turned dark red, but the area where she had been struck remained a deep shade of vermillion. She looked past the sisters to Edward, who was shifting on his feet and giving her a pitiful frown.

“But why?” Joan said. “You’re- you’re not like her. You’re good!”

“She’s ‘good’?” Mary chortled. She stalked up to Joan and stomped on her ribs with her boots. “And, what? I’m not?”

“You killed people!” Joan hissed and then keened in pain when Mary’s heel dug against her chest.

“She’s my sister,” Elizabeth interjected. Her voice is gentler than Mary’s, but it’s obvious she was irritated from the glint in her eyes and the way her arms were firmly crossed over her chest. “Of course I’m going to side with her.”

“Side with her on what?!” Joan spluttered. “Her hatred for me? It’s not a fight, it’s just some grudge this sociopath can’t let go of! You don’t have to get involved!”

“Don’t call her a sociopath.” Elizabeth growled, advancing on Joan.

“Well, she is,” Joan said. “And you’re no better by supporting her.”

Mary stomped on Joan’s chest again and this time there was a very distinct crack. Joan yowled loudly.

“Alright!” Edward suddenly spoke up. He hurried away and pushed his sisters away from Joan. “That’s enough!” Then, with a calmer voice, “She’s had enough.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose at her brother. Mary looked annoyed that she didn’t get the chance to pluck out Joan’s broken ribs and string them on a necklace, but she backed off.

“Never did have a taste for this, did you, Edward?” She said.

“Looks like I didn’t inherit that gene from Father.” Edward replied.

“You need-”

“I know, I know,” Edward cut her off, rolling his eyes. “I need to be all tough and big and scary. I’m royalty, I have to put people in their place, I know. But we aren’t nobles anymore. And she’s a pianist, not a masochist.” A small smirk tugged on his lips. “You’d be able to tell when someone is with ease.”

Joan winced and closed her eyes, expecting Mary to crack open Edward’s skull for that jibe, but instead she just clenched her fists, bared her teeth, and glared at her brother.

“Aren’t you sweet,” She crooned venomously. “Protecting the girl who-”

“-killed my mother.” Edward finished, rolling his eyes again. “And I sure appreciate it, because I get to hear it all the time now.”

Joan flinched and Edward flashed her a quick smile to relieve her of any anxieties on that topic. His head turned back to his sisters, a hard expression set on his soft features.

“Maybe Mae will be less of a disappointment.” Mary spat.

“You would try to teach a two year old to be a cunt.” Edward said.

Mary growled and then spun around, marching out of the room. Elizabeth followed her out, but not without a final glance over her shoulder. When they were out of sight, Edward’s shoulders relaxed and his face became a lot less threatening and more like a gentle chipmunk’s.

“They’re going to be so mean to you now.” Joan said, sitting up.

“Oh, no!” Edward gasped. “My sisters? Being mean? I’ve never seen that before! That will be so unexpected and out of character!”

Joan laughed softly, but winced when pain throbbed in the left side of her chest. Her hand flew upwards, tentatively touching the injured area. Edward knelt down next to her.

“Are you alright?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” Joan grunted. “I think. They don’t feel broken. Maybe just cracked.”

“Ouch,” Edward winced. “I’m so sorry about Mary and Elizabeth. You don’t deserve this at all.” He reached a hand out to touch Joan, but pulled back, presumably thinking against it. “They can be real jerks sometimes. Or a lot of times in your case.” He gave her a sad frown.

“Why do they hate me so much?” Joan asked. “Or, why does Mary? Elizabeth just seems to be some kind of pawn. I’ve never done anything to either of them!”

Edward shrugged helplessly. “Your guess is as good as mine.” He said. “Mary has some, uhh...issues. Back then and now. But that doesn’t give her any right to treat you the way she does. Or try to break your ribs!”

Joan smiled slightly. She had never thought she would like any of the kids, especially Jane’s son, but something about Edward gave him a pass. He was different from his sisters, even the annoying toddler.

“You-” She began hesitantly. “You don’t think I killed Jane, right? I-I tried to save her, I really did, but-”

“Hey.” Edward clasped Joan’s hands in his. They were smaller, but warm and loose enough for her to pull away if she wanted to. “Of course I don’t believe that. I know you didn’t. My mum died from poor sanitation, not you cursing her vagina to tear and get infected or something.” He paused for a moment, then laughed. “That was a weird thing to say.”

Joan giggled softly. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“Don’t believe anything my sisters say,” Edward went on. “They like starting stupid stuff.”

“Are you really the only sensible one out of your siblings?”

Edward grinned. “Yup. That also makes me the best.”

Joan smiled back at him. She stood up after Edward released her hands, gritting her teeth through the pain in her ribs, but managing to get on her feet without tipping over. She set one hand on the injured area, massaging it lightly.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Edward asked.

“Probably,” Joan answered. “I’ve handled worse.”

That earned her a curious frown, but Edward doesn’t press the matter. He just twitched his lips a little and then nodded.

They both walked out of the dressing room. Somewhere down the Stairs of Doom, a few of the queens and their daughters could be heard clamoring about, probably getting ready to leave. Edward looked up at Joan with a friendly warmth in his eyes.

“Wanna come over for dinner?”

Joan is both startled and surprised. “Wh-what? A-are you sure?”

“I am!” Edward said. “I like you. You’re much better company than any of my sisters.”

“What about the other queens?”

“Catalina, Anne, and Cathy all have their kids. Cathy is the worst about it, though. She’s ALWAYS with Mae. I can’t remember the last time I saw her alone.” Edward said. “Mum is, well, my mum. I can’t exactly be friends with her. Kitty is...okay. Mum REALLY wants me to like her, but she can be loud and too energetic for me. And Anna is cool, but,” He shrugged. “I like you much better. You’re quiet and smart and funny, but not in a pretentious way.”

Joan blushed shyly and looked away. She couldn’t believe she was letting herself be flattered by a twelve year old. How pathetic could she possibly get?

“Thanks,” She whispered. “I’ve never- I’ve never, umm, been someone’s top choice for a friend before.”

“Then I’ll be the first.” Edward smiled at her. “Come on, let’s go before they leave us here! Oh, and don’t worry, I won’t let my sisters pick on you again.”

[marta-bee]

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

Sherlockians, I want to talk about Mary. Or not about Mary the character, because enough words have been spent on that topic and I’m nowhere near brave enough to wade into that one on a snowy Sunday afternoon, but rather on the way we as readers can (perhaps should) relate to her. At some level what follows is about this Tumblr post, where an anonymous commenter asked for “any fics where Mary’s not the bad guy” and noticed that a lot of the evil-Mary fanworks “gets a bit misogynistic in my opinion”; but I’m also using that as something of a springboard, and don’t mean this as a direct reply to that post. (Which is why I’m not replying in a reblog; please everyone go check out that post and comment on it as well.)

Anyway, let me start with two basic points that I hope are pretty noncontroversial.

Mary is an antagonist, at least some of the time.

Mary has at least some aspects of her character that are bad-making (more on what I mean by “bad-making” in a moment), or at least would be if she were a real person.

The devil’s in the details here, as it is with most things worth talking about, so let’s unpack that a bit.

(Long post is long, and so continued under the cut.)

When I say someone’s an antagonist, I’m not really making a value-judgment. I’m purposefully avoiding that word, “villain,” which calls to mind “villainous” as a description of their personality and character. An antagonist is just someone who plot-wise stands in opposition to the character. They’re wrapped up in the conflict our hero has to overcome.

Let’s take a pretty straightforward (and unrelated to our fandom, so hopefully less emotionally charged for a lot of us) example: the first “Hunger Games” book. Katniss is thrown into a gladiatorial fight to the death with twenty-three other teenagers. With the exception of Rue and (later in the games) Peeta, everyone else is an antagonist in relation to Katniss. She has to hope for their death and be prepared to kill them because their continued existence stands in the way of her surviving the games. Most are reduced to numbers with s knowing precious little about them – certainly not enough to think they deserve death. But they’re still antagonists because they’re obstacles the hero has to work past if she hopes to succeed.

Or take Draco Malfoy, in the early Harry Potter books. He’s a thoroughly unpleasant boy, spoiled and sniveling certainly, but I’d be hard-pressed to call him bad. His biggest defining characteristic is he stands up and tries to fight Harry; but often as not this comes down to inter-house squabbling and the only reason he and Harry are on opposite sides is how they were sorted. As we learn, given the way he was raised and the political situation he was raised in, it’s actually pretty admirable how on the periphery of the Death Eaters he stays. But he’s still the antagonist, he’s the one Harry has to outsmart or outperform or otherwise get around.

It's only natural we cheer when the antagonists fail. We’re primed to identify with the protagonist, after all, and their failure means the protagonist gets to win. Even if objectively know the antagonist doesn’t actually deserve to fail, well. That’s just kind of how stories work.

Getting back to Sherlock, I said it’s pretty noncontroversial that Mary’s an antagonist. So when I say that I don’t mean she’s evil, or even that she’s only an antagonist. But the woman shoots our star character in the chest. It’s her secrets and her very presence that drive Sherlock into exile (and drive Sherlock and John apart) for a second time, undoing whatever victory  Sherlock achieved when he defeated Moriarty’s web. She’s certainly a problem to be addressed and worked past in HLV. In terms of canon and parallels with the Doyle stories, there’s quite a lot about her actions (particular in Leinster Gardens) that all but screams “Sebastian Moran.” Ergo: antagonist.

There’s also a quieter, more ordinary sense that I suspect will be more controversial but is worth talking about anyway. Like a lot of Sherlockians and Johnlockers, I’m a big fan of making space for John/Mary/Sherlock in happy OT3 land. I think Sherlock and John at least want some version of that in canon; maybe not romantically, but they like to imagine their being room in their lives for these different relationships to not be in conflict. But in BBC-canon that hope’s not really borne out. This deserves a full meta on its own, but briefly: when Mary observes that neither she nor Sherlock were “the first” (talking about Sholto), she situates them in competition for the same position in John’s life, rather than in distinct, complementary ones (which an OT3 seems to require); and when Sherlock notes at the end of TSOT episode that “we can’t all three dance,” he seems to come to a similar conclusion. I do love me some good Johnlockary fic, but I don’t think this is where the show was heading

At a more basic level, I’d actually argue it almost has to be this way with these three- at least if we’re to hold on to John and Sherlock being “the two of us against the world.” In the 1800s men and women had such different roles in society, a man would do very different things and relate in very different ways to his close (male) friends than he would to his (female) wife. So Watson could run off with Holmes and have adventure, then return home to Mary for the peaceful, even loving family life, without one really being in tension with the other. But by the twenty-first century those spheres aren’t nearly so different. Even if you don’t imagine them as lovers, it’s hard not to imagine a self-respecting woman today saying as Mary did in TAB, “I don’t mind you going; I mind you leaving me behind.” One of the biggest challenges for a modern Holmes adaptation (or indeed, for a modern consumer of the original Doyle stories) is how to balance Holmes’ and Watson’s private “intimate partnership” – however we understand that term – against (John) Watson’s marriage to Mary with all we moderns expect of that relationship in terms of emotional fidelity, equal partnership, shared future, etc.

Put more simply: Mary should throw a monkey-wrench in the mix; she should be something that must be accounted for and whose presence should affect how Holmes and Watson can interact. Not to mean her presence is incompatible with Holmes and Watson’s close and exclusive relationship, but at a minimum she’s a factor in need of an explanation. She can’t help but be antagonistic, at least to some interpretations of Holmes’s and (John) Watson’s relationship.

As I said, with antagonists, it’s only natural to cheer for the protagonists, which almost inevitably means rooting for the protagonists’ failure. At least we root for them being de-antagonized, converted into some other relationship to the main character. But if you’ve spent any time on AO3, you’ve probably come across fanfic focusing on the antagonists (*cough* Loki *cough**cough* Drary *hacks up a longue* Silm-fandom-this-one’s-for-you *cough*’s). We can be a thirsty bunch when it comes to our antagonists, for characters we by all rights should be primed to hate. And even at the level of primary-canon, one of the biggest ways the primary creator shows their emotional growth is by realizing their antagonists aren’t truly their enemy. Like most readers I had a tear in my eye as Cato suffered through the night, begging for death; and certainly I would have been outraged if Harry hadn’t saved Draco from the Room of Requirements in “Deathly Hallows.” Gollum’s treachery is explained and he is given his own completion; Darth Vader is spared by Luke and allowed to look on his son with his own eyes; and the Klingons, Cardassians, and Borg are given their own sort of redemption in Worf, Garak, and Seven of Nine.

All of which is to say: it’s understandable, even natural, why people would have a hard time rooting for the antagonist, but there’s a long history of fandom peoples steering into the curve on this one. So it’s also understandable, even natural, that people want to hear stories with them at the center, both new stories about them and also versions of the original canon narrative that don’t need them to wear the black hat all the time. Some folks want Mary, Sherlock, and John to all go crime-solving together. I personally think there’s sometimes a danger of turning an antagonist – especially one who is at least morally gray (and I promise we’re getting there) like Mary is – into a protagonist without wrestling with what turned them into an antagonist in the first place; so if you want to bring Mary back to the side of John and Sherlock you need to grapple with what pushed them into opposing roles in the first place, or else risk your plot feeling “cheap” and unearned. (In fairness, this warning could as easily be directed to Mofftiss as anyone in fandom!)

But at an absolute minimum, I think it’s pretty obvious that lots of fans want to imagine the antagonists as at the heart of their own stories, and lots of fan-creators have done a really good job of providing those stories. Just as a lot of fans will almost instinctively be drawn to hate them, well, if you want to go a different path you’re in good company.

Enough about protagonist/antagonist, which as I said is more about the role the character fills in the story than about their morality or character. This, for me at least, is where it really gets interesting.

Before we get started, though, I know a lot of people struggle against this idea of morality when it applies to fictional characters and fictional stories. They’ll point out (rightly) that just because they enjoy a non-con PWP doesn’t mean they approve of rape in real life; that their reading preferences come from a different place entirely than their moral judgments. But at the same time, a lot of people (equally rightly) struggle to enjoy stories that glorify things we don’t consider worth glorifying. It’s one thing to enjoy a story about Draco rejecting the Death Eaters, returning to mainstream wizarding society and joining the Aurors; quite another to imagine him dating Harry while he’s still walking around calling Hermione a mudblood.

Or getting back to the Sherlock fandom, a lot of people are most comfortable with stories with Mary’s the antagonist because she’s got a character history and just personality traits where, if we met someone like her in real-life, we’d consider her morally bad. Or on the flip slide, those fans who want a not-evil!Mary in their stories often like to imagine her as the kind of person we’d describe as good or redeemed or some such thing, if she were an actual person. Mary’s morality, at least the morality of a similar person operating in the real world (because --speaking as a former philosophy Ph.D. student who taught philosophical ethics for years-- let me tell you: talking about the morality of fictional constructs gets very messy, very quickly), seems to matter to a great number of fans. So let’s talk about that.

I said above I thought most people would agree, Mary had parts o her character that were bad-making. What I mean is there are aspects about her that tend to make a person bad, unless they’re explained by some other factor. I’ve got in mind something vaguely similar to W.D. Ross’s theories of prima facie duties (if any of you studied this in your Ethics 101 courses- you would have in mine). Basically, the idea is we have all these duties that apply to us, but they can seem to conflict, and we may decide (rightly) in any given situation that one or the other is the more important one for us to follow. The classic example is the duty to keep our promises and prevent suffering when we can. You can imagine situations where you can’t do both- for instance, if I promised to meet you for lunch and on my way to the restaurant came across a man who fell into a ditch and twisted his ankle along a deserted road, where it’s unlikely someone else would come upon him. If I stop to help him I’ll miss our lunch date and break my promise; and while I still have a duty to keep that promise, I think most people would agree it’s more important to stop and help the person. We’d all be hard-pressed to say if I helped the stranger, I’d failed at my duty to keep a promise; at least not in the same way as if I could have kept that promise and just chose not to. That’s Ross’s idea of prima facie duties: that we have all these general obligations on us, but which actually should govern our choices in any particular instance comes down to the details of that situation.

I think there’s something similar going on with Mary’s character. This is actually a good way to evaluate most of us morally, in my opinion, but it’s doubly useful when it comes to Mary because she’s simultaneously got so many troubling aspects about her that just demand some sort of justification, but at the same time, because Mofftiss really screwed the pooch here, we don’t really have the information we need to give a definitive answer. So it’s useful to say: here’s something about Mary that needs accounting for, even if we don’t have enough information to evaluate her definitively.

Let’s take Magnussen’s biggest accusation against her: “All those wet jobs.” Mary killed people on her own prerogative, and she left behind a lot of grieving relatives who would love their revenge – both a testament to the suffering she caused, and a real risk for John, the baby that will become Rosie, and everyone else in their orbit. But if that’s all there is to it, it’s not wholly dissimilar to John’s decision to shoot the cabbie. It may have been different, but we don’t have the information to know that; it feels different, but most because John was saving Sherlock (who we know), whereas if Mary was saving anyone, it’s not someone we the viewer have an emotional connection to. Still, to borrow a phrase from Ricky Ricardo, Mary, you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do.

Or to take an even more serious charge, Mary shot Sherlock, was prepared to make John watch him die all over again and force him to go through that grief that so nearly destroyed him the first time around. Unforgiveable, yeah? The best shot at justification here is that Mary had somehow got herself cornered, so that shooting Sherlock was somehow an attempt to escape an even worse sitation. This really demands a full meta to dive in to, but very briefly, I think Mary never intended to kill Magnussen and was instead trying to intimidate him; meaning she couldn’t let Sherlock undercut her power, but equally she couldn’t leave Magnussen with the impression that John and Sherlock were somehow her partners; so shooting Sherlock was the best way to keep him from becoming a full target of Magnussen’s. If that’s the case, the whole showdown in Magnussen’s office becomes markedly similar to Sherlock’s decision to “kill” himself on the roof of St. Bart’s. Mary is willing to cause a lot of pain to avoid even greater destruction, but at the same time, the whole situation that compels this choice was fed by her limiting her options when she decided to intimidate Magnussen. Similar to how Sherlock, once he’s on the roof of St. Bart’s, has no better option than to fake his own death and leave John to grieve; but how he does have some degree of culpability for engaging Moriarty in the first place and egging on Moriarty’s destructive obsession with Sherlock.

My point isn’t that any of these parallels really hold up to scrutiny. Sherlock risked his own life in TRF (and John’s pain) while Mary was prepared to kill another. John was ready to kill “a bad man” to save our hero while whatever murders Mary committed were against unnamed people in undetermined circumstances, and narratively certainly don’t pull at or heart strings in the same way John’s heroic killing of Jefferson Hope does. But the point is, with Mary, so much of what a lot of fans object to involve these vaguely-told stories where whatever factors would excuse her actions just are left untold. What we can say definitively is “all those wet jobs” require justification. Mary’s willingness to shoot Sherlock require justification. These things are prima facie wrong (or bad-making, the kind of things that tend to make something bad in the absence of other explanations) and demand an accounting for.

I’m focusing on Mary’s violence more than what a lot of fans have identified as her abuse toward John. Partly, this is personal: I have my own experience with abusive relationships and don’t entirely trust my ability to parse similar dynamics in fiction; certainly I don’t want to tie that part of my past to public debate, and I’ve not worked out how to talk about Mary and John without over-personalizing it. But I will say, there’s a lot to be considered on that front as well, and people interested in thinking through Mary’s im/morality shouldn’t ignore it. As a starting point, inevity-johnlocked pointed to several of her old posts making the case that Mary was an emotional abuser. silentauroriamthereal’s fic “Rebuilding Rome” looks at a lot of these issues in a really powerful way if you’re looking for an exploration in fic form. I’ll just add, even if I thought Mary was justified and so “good” in some sense (and my internal compass is so screwed up, I’m not really qualified to tell at this point), the way she chose or had to lie about her past to John seems a particularly bad match for a man like him with his trust issues. So even if you think Mary is good, there’s a lot of justification for saying she’s still not good for him.

So what does this mean for reading fics involving a kinder, gentler Mary? First, I’d emphasize there’s no shame or judgment in reading what you want. Much as writers may choose to write about all kinds of things they’d disapprove of in real life, readers have that same freedom to scratch whatever readerly itch they like, with no need to defend that to anyone else. Kinktomato and all that. On the other hand, I know I personally enjoy stories more when I can lose myself in them, and – again, for me personally – it helps me do that if my values are at least compatible with what’s presented as praiseworthy. I don’t have to guard myself as I enter the story. So it’s definitely worth thinking about how comfortable you are with fiction that vilifies Mary or pardons her or something in between, because it may make it easier or harder to really immerse yourself in a fic.

Then again, maybe that’s just me. I am a rather persnickety chickadee with things like this.

I do know that many fandoms have an unfortunate history of coming down hard on the female competition to a popular slash ship. While I’m reluctant to apply “should”s to our consumption of fiction, I think there are genuine feminist concerns here. Not with thinking Mary’s bad/evil or even hating her, but hating her for the wrong. For me, it helps to imagine another character doing something similar, and think about why I would react differently if it was someone other than Mary doing the deed. Also to be aware of the details canon doesn’t answer decisively or answers different ways in different episodes.

(More than most characters, Mary does suffer from a really inconsistent characterization. I’ve often wondered if everything since HLV was Sherlock or whomever trying on different frameworks for her personality/psychology/what-have-you, to see which could account for what she did to him. First she’s a badass villain, then a Mycroftian operative, then a martyr, then a worldclass manipulator, and finally a sanctifier whose own personality was irrelevant, giving her imprimatur from beyond the grave. And that’s without throwing veteran/maths genius and happy homemaker into the bunch. Maybe the showrunners simply weren’t sure what they wanted to do with her. Whatever the situation, I do think we need to be careful about taking any one canon detail at face-value, especially with her.)

I’m also a little discomfited by this trend I’ve seen among Johnlockers, to write Mary as a monster as a way to lessen John’s pain at her… betrayal, I guess? Or just the loss at her death? I remember when a lot of fanfic authors back between S3 & S4 wrote about the baby being fake; or even after S4, as part of John’s “alibi” rather than a true detail. Or even just deciding the baby was David’s or some such. By itself, that could have been really interesting, but what I saw so often happening was people used that as a way to remove the complication of the baby. Or to let John skip the grief he’d feel if the baby wasn’t born healthy- for instance, if it didn’t exist, or died, or if Mary was killed or ran while she was still pregnant. The basic theme was if Mary didn’t deserve John’s pain, John didn’t have to hurt for so long or as deeply.

Complicated grief is a thing, though, and for a lot of people, grieving the loss of someone who hurt them and aren’t “worth” their pain seem to suffer worse and for longer, particularly if they also have to grieve the lost opportunity to make their peace with the person while they were alive. This doesn’t mean fanfic writers or readers have to give us some kind of sanitized Mary; certainly she has the potential to be a true east wind of a character. But I do think there’s a tendency to prefer a more evil Mary because this lets the story move past her or spares John some suffering often won’t feel true. It also runs the risk of disrespecting the suffering of people impacted by these kinds of losses. So while I think this kind of characterization can be really interesting and compelling, it also takes a lot of skill and thoughtfulness to do it well. Here be dragons.

For me, though, the point isn’t to be proscriptive, to say Sherlock fic writers and readers need to limit themselves to a particular read of Mary. Her character has such potential to give birth to such a wide range of fic. As a viewer of the show I wish the writers and other creators had given us more of a sense of who she was because I think it really contributes to my frustration with not understanding the story they were trying to tell. But as a (kinda-sorta-someday-once-again) fic writer, it’s a true embarrassment of riches. The trick, for those of us concerned about Mary’s ethics were she a real person, is to be aware of the dangers of reading her character certain ways and to be cautious around them if we want to play with those interpretations.

[margridarnauds]

002 orleans, 001 peyronan, lets GO

001 | Peyronan

when I started shipping it if I did: Funnily, it went under my radar for YEARS, because I. Did not care about Lazare at ALL. Did not even L I K E him. And the 1789 fandom, as a whole, was VERY anti-Ronan. You could not say ANYTHING positive about Ronan at that time. Then, during a stream of Zuka 1789 in June 2017 (THREE YEARS. WHAT THE FUCK? HOW HAVE THREE YEARS PAST?), I was like “Oh? O H? O    H  ?” and so It began. I started off with the idea of creating a contained series of drabbles, highlighting the two of them over the course of the musical. The idea was that it would essentially be PWP, disconnected, plotless, researchless, no feelings involved, no softening of Lazare, and would probably end at Ronan’s death. But, as I began working the concepts further, I realized that wouldn’t work, and within a few months of beginning the project, I started to call it “The Abomination”, due to it warping far, far out of my control. These days, a LOT of what I’ve written ties back to those original ideas for The Abomination, and a lot of the concepts used in Between the Waves started there (Printing Press being one of them.) 

my thoughts: THE BOIS. THE B O I S. My favorite totally canon ship. The two of them really do balance one another out really well, they’re the classic fire and ice combo (though, underneath Lazare’s ice, there’s fire, and underneath Ronan’s fire, there’s ice.) Ronan’s character arc begins and ends with Lazare, and there’s SOMETHING about him going to Paris with this idea of “Okay, I’m going to kill the Comte, take back my lands, and dance on the ashes of the old world” and then meeting Lazare and being like “...okay, new plan: Save this fucking disaster from himself”. There’s something about his arc going from hatred to love. And could this be done with Olympe as well? Yes, it could be. But, for me, I like the full circle happening with Lazare, since he did start this. Both of them have a Hell of a lot to learn from one another, there’s going to be a lot of grappling when it comes to establishing equality, a lot of sniping back and forth, but I also do think, legitimately, they could make one another happy. (And, Hell, even if they didn’t, that doesn’t mean it can’t be a fun ride.) 

What makes me happy about them: The general idea that the Comte de Peyrol, a cold-hearted, professional guard dog who probably never really even THOUGHT of love as something he could have, could melt for this revolutionary, no matter HOW slightly, enough to risk everything for a relationship. That, despite everything else, Ronan could love him back. That, even if only for a few months, they got to be HAPPY with one another. 

What makes me sad about them: The ending. The things that were left unresolved. It’s doubly sad in, say, the PLP universe, where Lazare really DID love Ronan with his entire heart, but Ronan really died without KNOWING the extent that Lazare was invested. And that Lazare will have to live the rest of his life, HOWEVER long that will be, thinking of how he destroyed the one person who ever gave a damn about him outside of what he could do for them. 

things done in fanfic that annoys me: Given that the fandom mainly consists of me + the various friends I’ve kidnapped into the fandom, there really ISN’T all that much? Like, I feel like the 1789 fandom, as a whole, is a fairly chill space (knock on wood.)

things I look for in fanfic: Existing is a lovely start. 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I don’t MIND Camille/Ronan, Ronan/Olympe, or Olympe/Lazare. They aren’t FAVORITES in the same way, but I would probably read fanfic for it. And I have read fanfic for Ronan/Robespierre as well. 

My happily ever after for them: Lazare chooses to leave the Army after realizing that it’s destroying him, the two of them escape the worst of the Revolution together and go away, either to London or America (I. Doubt. That someone as high profile as Lazare could slink away to the country like a ton of other aristocrats did.) They live together more or less openly, Lazare deciding against taking a wife for convenience’s sake, and society is left to deal. In theory, they keep two separate bedrooms, but in practice? Yeah, that peasant boy is spending all his time in Lazare’s bed, and Lazare has no complaints. 

who is the big spoon/little spoon: See, I WANT to say “Lazare”. This has been my official stance for YEARS. That Ronan routinely cuddles up to Lazare (who had a very difficult time admitting that he, in fact, needs cuddles), and Lazare pulls his arm over him, protecting him, since we KNOW that Lazare tends to feel a deep sense of duty re: protecting the things most important to him, whether that’s the Crown or Ronan. BUT CONSIDER. BIG SPOON RONAN attacking from behind and Lazare getting to feel safe and secure for ONCE. 

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Ronan likes Lazare reading to him. Lazare has a very warm, smooth voice, when he isn’t barking out orders. Ronan loves getting to cuddle against his shoulder or on his lap, Lazare stroking his hair with one hand and holding the book in the other, letting his voice flow over him. Lazare will sometimes (gently) chastise him for not listening to a single word he says, but it’s worth it to see Ronan at peace (and, in the case of at least a few of the works, it isn’t a particularly great loss, anyway.) 

002 | Orléans

How I feel about this character: Thotty, ambitious bastard who should NOT be this charismatic and yet somehow IS. Also right for a solid 60% of the musical. I’m trying to articulate all my thoughts but they are just variations on “SON” and “PROBLEMATIC”. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Margrid Arnaud. Arnaud, Margrid. The sister of Marie Antoinette. Street Gremlin. I can KIND of see Antoinette, in a very, very odd way. Less “I love you so now I’m going to destroy you” like the Hungarian did, more “We were friends, there were Undercurrents to it, Things happened to make them have some mutually hurt feelings, and being stung like that set up this Mood for things later on.” 

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I’m actually really interested in Louis & Orléans, as a relationship. Like, they were COUSINS. Something went deeply, deeply bad in their relationship at some point, and it totally ruined both of their lives. In another life, they might have been closer, but, with a throne between them....there was really no other way for it to end. 

My unpopular opinion about this character: The LOVELY thing about a fandom that consists of, like, three people on a good day is that IT’S MY SANDBOX. But, one thing that I do think is that it wasn’t really a straightforward Mnaipulator-Manipulatee relationship with Margrid. She signed on knowing fully well that she would get her hands dirty, Orléans TOLD her as much, and she wanted it, at the time. It didn’t really benefit him to conceal what they would be doing. The two of them just happened to drift to two different places over time. I’ve seen a certain....tendency to baby Margrid over her choices, because she DOES have a traumatic backstory, but...she can still be rather reprehensible as a human being herself. In the early stages of the musical, HE’D be more likely to hold her back from doing something awful as opposed to vice versa. I also do think that...he didn’t GO OUT intending to supplant Antoinette. That was formed after years of seeing her bungle ruling the country. You can even see it in M cast when Antoinette turns down Rohan’s attempt to make nice, where he has this very distinct “Oh....she DIDN’T....she did” face. That isn’t the face of someone who’s THRILLED that things are going according to plan, that’s the face of someone who’s realizing that there’s only one way for this to happen and for France to remain in one piece, and it’s for him to take the throne. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: The problem with Orléans, as a character, is that at least in the Toho production, I DO think he’s fairly well done. It’s hard for me to REALLY see....what I wish could have happened. Because you kind of realize that there were only ever a few ways for this to end, and as the musical progresses, the available options just get narrower and narrower. It isn’t GOOD, but like....you UNDERSTAND how it happens. I do wish that he had more scenes with Margrid, obviously from a self-indulgent ship perspective. Not even in terms of “canonical makeout session” (since I almost feel like a canonical makeout session would ruin it), but in terms of him finding out that Marie was her sister and that THAT was where he went wrong, but also....I’m not sure how MUCH it would have ended, and there’s something to be said for the tragedy of him just never KNOWING why she betrayed him. That hurt, furious look on his face as he’s led away really is probably the best place to end their relationship on. I would have loved to have seen their second meeting, after Hébert convinced her to take the job, since it would have REALLY given a ton of groundwork for their working partnership and would have given them the chance to discuss their kind of disastrous first meeting.  Obviously, I would hope that he gets his head screwed on properly and he runs off with Margrid to America, where they end up living peacefully for many years and having children who are spoiled absolutely rotten, along with his other, legitimate children, who also flee to America. Philippe, being himself, naturally ingratiates himself to the new country, becoming very active in politics, and upon his summoning of his dear friend the Chevalier de Saint-Georges to America, the cause of Abolitionism is given a massive head start. It isn’t entirely France....or London, where Philippe’s heart will always lie, but it’s a nice existence, and his ego is suitably stroked by the American fascination with royalty. (He and Laz still have at least one near-duel, which is halted by their respective significant others.) 

my OTP: Morléans. Shockingly. 

my cross over ship: Never 5get @lochley fucking selling me on Marie/Olympe/Orléans. 

a headcanon fact: Part of why he has his ongoing snipefest with Fersen is that he’s bitter that Fersen was able to fight in the American Revolution while, in his case, after the Royal Family tossed him to the wolves after the Battle of Ushant, he was forced to remain in France and sit it out, and someone as active as Orléans could barely STAND it. (Also, along with Ronan, has SOME form of ADHD. He has a lot of plans, and one LARGER plan, but when it comes to things outside of that one larger plan? Yeah, he scurries around, chases after whatever seems good in the moment. It drives Margrid up a WALL.) 

[timeagainreviews]

5 Moments when Doctor Who SUCKED

Imagine, if you will for a moment, that you are a brand new Doctor Who fan. You don’t even know to call yourself a Whovian yet. You get on a few facebook groups, see a few YouTube videos and discover, much to your dismay, that Doctor Who is, in fact, ruined now. Woe is you who set path down a trail leading toward mediocrity, and eventually utter devastation. I ask you to picture yourself in this manner because I want you to realise that only a person new to Doctor Who would believe such drivel. Everyone else saying this seems to have rose tinted glasses. The rest of us all know that Doctor Who is a show that sometimes requires forgiveness.

Am I saying Doctor Who is a bad show? Not hardly. Much like pizza, Doctor Who is still pretty good, even when it sucks. I would venture to say that one of the things I love most about Doctor Who is how campy and silly it can be at times. Why is it then that so many people are turning their backs on a show that’s filled their lives with so much joy? I’m really trying to avoid the "because sexism," argument. But I can’t help but feel like if you were to switch the Doctor to a male, nobody would be calling the show "ruined." Furthermore, how do you even ruin something that has gone through so many changes throughout the years? Oh right, it’s the Doctor Who fandom. Where the only language allowed is hyperbolic.

Perhaps these fake geeks are mad because making the Doctor a woman takes away their ability to call her a Mary Sue. Especially when you consider the same character once burst out of a golden birdcage and floated to the ground in a wave of Jesus energy. That might mean they’d have to retroactively apply the title to every incarnation. Could the Doctor ever escape the distinction? Unnaturally talented, charismatic, good at everything he does, brilliantly smart. Or is it that these attributes only belong to men? We can believe Tom Baker’s Doctor is capable of walking into a burning furnace to save K9, but hell no, a woman can’t be the Doctor.

You have to face it, Doctor Who has had some terrible moments. Yet we continue to tune in because we forgive it. We forgive when Doctor Who is bad because of the moments when Doctor Who is wonderful. Which I know is how you would describe an abusive partner, but I’m gonna let it slide for a television series. Especially this series. Because unlike that dickhead who never texts you back, Doctor Who can change. If you don’t believe me, please peruse this list of five instances when Doctor Who was terrible.

1. The John Nathan-Turner era

My God, how could I not start with this? While there is no denying there are some wonderful moments in JNT's Doctor Who, it's easily my least favourite era of Doctor Who. And as much as I personally love Colin Baker, his Doctor got the lion's share of poor scripts and erroneous costume choices. Never has a man more game for a role, been dealt such a bad hand.

Introducing a Doctor that was cowardly, and even violent toward his companion, was seen as a bridge too far. While I understand the desire to try something new with the character, this wasn't the way to go about it. While the show begins to pick up around the end of McCoy's tenure, it's evident that this is more the influence of studio notes and the hard work of script editor Andrew Cartmel. I can't think of anyone less suited for the job of showrunner.

It seems that for a good nine years, Doctor Who had a madman at the helm, and not in that cute Matt Smith way. Dressing in flamboyant Hawaiian shirts, Nathan-Turner brought that same brash sensibility to the program. From Six's garish costume, to question mark lapels, to Mel's entire timeline, it's a big fat mess with him sitting in the middle. Add to all of this, the allegations of him being a predatory creep toward young male fans, and it's a surprise the show ever survived. Oh wait, it didn't.

2. Racism

Ok, maybe I should have started with this. While Doctor Who has taken efforts to address its racist past, it still happened. They drop a racist slur in "The Celestial Toymaker." Even the term "celestial," is used to mean "Chinese," in describing the titular character played by the very white Michael Gough, fully clad in Oriental silks. This tradition follows into "The Talons of Weng-Chiang," when Li H'sen Chang was played by John Bennett.

It's an uncomfortable miracle that they didn't allow Patrick Troughton to play the role of the Second Doctor in brownface. Not to say his era escaped the odd bit of racism. While Toberman in "Tomb of the Cybermen," gets a few heroic moments, he also gets none of the lines. Cast as mute manservant, we learn nothing about the inner workings of a black man who died so that white people may live.

Later, the show used characters like Ace to talk about racism. She shows disgust with a "No Coloureds," sign hanging in the boarding house she's staying in. When the evil Morgaine had her under mind control, it was calling her friend Ling Tai "yellow," and "slant-eyed," that she was able to snap out of it. Real Ace would never say such things. But even with that groundwork laid, the new series still struggles. From the Doctor being weirdly dismissive toward black people, to it taking nearly 50 years for the first black TV companion, Doctor Who is still grappling with its race issues. Yet you all kept watching.

3. Ace gets molested

This one is a bit of a lesser known infraction as it takes place in the books after the show had already been cancelled. Kicking off the Virgin Media "New Adventures," is 1991's "Timewyrm: Genesys," by John Peel. In it, the Doctor and Ace travel to ancient Mesopotamia, where they meet King Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh wastes no time going full blown creep, groping Ace and pawing at her like he was Joe Biden.

The Doctor's reaction to this is to tell Ace to just go with it, and that it's part of the culture. While I agree that, yes, Gilgamesh may not be the sophisticated modern man that hugs a bro and supports equal pay, the Doctor's reaction is some straight up bullshit. If you're going to go there, maybe try saying something with it other than "Women are men's property." This could have been a great opportunity for the Doctor to puff up and use Gilgamesh's own primitive mindset against him. "How dare you touch my woman!" the very tiny Doctor could say to the very tall man. It would have been a funny visual, mixed with the Doctor utilising male privilege in a way that helps his companion.

This is really an objection I have against most of John Peel's work. He writes women in that "she boobed boobily," manner. Much to my dismay, Peel is one of the sole writers of the Dalek books, so any time you want to enjoy a tale involving our enemies from Skaro, you have to also partake in his brand of women. I'm talking women being described as buxom babes with shoulder length blonde hair, voices like baby goddesses, and legs up to their neck. While on the other hand, we get men described as having a hat and probably some other features. I may be embellishing, but seriously, John Peel, your women suck. Yet it still spawned a rather large book series.

4. Minuet in Hell

Doctor Who has never been known to nail accents. Tegan is vaguely Australian. And Peri must have moved around a lot due to the fact that nothing about her American accent sounds like a regional dialect. That doesn't mean that Robert Jezek's Foghorn Leghorn meets the KFC Colonel performance as " Brigham Elisha Dashwood III," is any less painful. But bad accents aside, the biggest demon in this Big Finish audio is one of Doctor Who's oldest enemies- sexism!

While I understand that Charlotte Pollard may be a fan favourite among many Big Finish listeners, her character will forever be tainted for me, and it's all due to this story. In it, Charlotte, or Charley, gets literally human trafficked. They kidnap her, force her to wear lingerie in a very creepy and misguided attempt to add some sexiness to the story and force her to wait on rich businessmen at a casino.

Now, allow me to clarify, it's not the human trafficking that taints her in my eyes. People who get trafficked are victims, obviously. What bothers me is that neither Gary Russell or Alan W Lear thought to give her a single line of dialogue where she protests. She doesn't even complain a little. Sure, the Doctor often gains intel by getting captured, but this is ridiculous. Add this to the weird disjointed story, and "Minuet in Hell," easily serves as one of the lowest points in not just Big Finish history, but Doctor Who as a whole.

5. Sexism

(Image by Billy Darswed)

It makes the most sense that this is the last one on the list. Because let's be honest, it's a huge problem in the fandom. A lot of early Doctor Who audios and books smack of moments when it feels as though the writers never considered the existence of female fans. Women are often utilised as a means to make the Doctor look better, and for the baddies to look scarier. Mind you, it's not always been a pantheon of swooners and screamers. We got the occasional Sarah Jane, Leela, and Ace.

Even the strong women are long-suffering. Liz Shaw (and her real-life actress Caroline John) left the role of companion over sexism. Beginning her time on Doctor Who as UNIT's top scientific advisor, she was demoted to assistant, holding beakers for the male Doctor who stole her job. The Fourth Doctor acted similarly when telling Romana her qualifications had nothing on real life experience. The same excuse has been used for decades to keep educated women out of the workforce. "Come back when you've got some experience, sweetheart."

While Rose Tyler was a refreshingly real character with a family and life of her own, it doesn't mean that she wasn't horribly mismanaged. In "The Stolen Earth," we see a darker, more serious version of her character. The Rose we used to know is now fully devoted toward one mission and one mission only- getting her man back. It's as though her personality disappears and is fully dependent on having the Doctor in her life. She rises to greatness so that she might bask in his once more. Maybe it's romantic, but maybe it's bad writing.

If you were to ask me who my favourite Doctor Who writers are, I'd have to say Robert Holmes is up there, and he wrote "Talons of Weng-Chiang," a serial full of yellowface. I'd also say Russell T Davies, who wrote the aforementioned "Stolen Earth," and also saw it in his wisdom to turn Shirley Henderson's "Ursula," into a blowjob dispensing garden brick. Or even Steven Moffat who believes the Statue of Liberty could sneak around New York, undetected, and that nobody notices his predilection toward dominatrix women in stiletto heels.

In my review for "The Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos," I quipped that Chris Chibnall had not yet written a truly great episode of Doctor Who. However, since "Resolution," I can no longer say such a thing. I may even go as far as to say it's one of the best Dalek episodes ever. It would seem then that, given enough time, he could become a great showrunner. And it seems that given enough time, any writer, yourself included, could one day write the latest "worst episode ever."

Every new era has had its stumbles. Not every Doctor gets it correct 100% of the time. Capaldi decided he was the kind of Doctor to exit through the window, a trait we never saw again. The Fifth Doctor decided to sleep his way through his first adventure. The Eighth Doctor was "human on his mother's side." And Ten took so long to regenerate that I'm beginning to think it was old age, and not radiation that did him in. If you can look at all of these stupid, stupid moments and still say you love Doctor Who, then maybe, just maybe, you can get over a bit of spotty writing, like you always have. Or is it still the female Doctor thing? Oh...

[catholicartistsnyc]

Meet: Emily Claire Schmitt

EMILY CLAIRE SCHMITT is a NYC-based playwright. (www.emilyclaireschmitt.com and Twitter: @Eclaire082)

CATHOLIC ARTIST CONNECTION (CAC): What brought you to NYC?

EMILY CLAIRE SCHMITT (ECS): I'm originally from Cincinnati, Ohio and I did my undergrad at Saint Mary's College in Indiana.  I always hoped to move to New York and I was fortunate that a few things fell into place for me when I graduated.  I was accepted into the New School for Drama's MFA program directly from undergrad.  I had applied to schools all over the country, and this happened to be both my top choice and only acceptance letter.  My college boyfriend's family is from Staten Island, so he moved back home and we were able to stay together.  Now that boyfriend is my husband, so I'm here to stay.

CAC: What do you see as your personal mission as a Catholic working in the arts?

ECS: First off, I love this question.  I think about this a lot, and I always try to pray a bit before I start writing, even if what I'm working on isn't an overtly religious piece.  I believe that God wants to be present with us as we grapple with the world and, while I don't let religious doctrines limit the content of my writing, my writing is always filtered through a worldview that God exists.  

A great deal of my art is critical of the institutional Church, but I'm still very insistent that I am a Catholic writer, as opposed to a formerly Catholic writer. There is a fundamental difference between someone who critiques from within and someone who has left the Church and is describing the experience that caused them to leave.  This distinction is supremely important to me.

I believe my vocation as a writer is to be a tool for God to express Themself in the world.  Sometimes this means representing the beauty of God's world, but more often than not it means shining light on that which is not in alignment with the Divine, whether within secular society or within the Church.  I hope that my work makes both religious and secular people uncomfortable.  I hope it makes them wonder what God thinks about them.

CAC: Where have you found support in the Church for your vocation as an artist?

ECS: I've been extremely fortunate to have made great connections with fellow Catholics in the arts.  I've worked with Xavier Theatre and Film, a Jesuit theater company, and they produced a showcase of my play "The Chalice" at the Stonewall Inn.  This was one of the highlights of my career thus far, an intersection of the Catholic and secular world that was truly fulfilling.

CAC: Where have you found support among your fellow artists for your Catholic faith?

ECS: It's a mixed bag.  Grad school was not a positive experience for me in terms of acceptance. After 16 years of Catholic education, I was suddenly in a secular world and I made a lot of mistakes in terms of how I presented myself.  I was wrestling with my faith privately, but fiercely defending it publicly, which is never a good tactic.  I didn't feel safe.  I no longer work with anyone from grad school, and that's best for all of us.

However, post graduation I have really found an artistic community with people of all faiths.  I have frequent collaborators who are non-Catholic Christians, members of other faiths, atheists, and agnostics.  I've found a particular home with The Skeleton Rep, a theater company that focuses on "building modern myth."  My religious beliefs really mesh with their interests, despite being a completely secular company.  I am currently developing a musical with them. 

CAC: How can the Church be more welcoming to artists?

ECS: Stop policing our content.  The vocation of an artist is to observe, critique, and respond.  It is not the vocation of the artist to simply listen and accept doctrine without question.  This means that there is an essential tension between the work of being an artist and the work of being a practicing Catholic.

As an artist, I don't have the luxury of keeping my disagreements with the Church private. I promise I'm listening and it's possible to change my mind. Please be patient with me.

CAC: How can the artistic world be more welcoming to artists of faith?

ECS: I think this is a difficult question because in most of the instances where people have been unwelcoming to me, it's because they have been hurt in some serious way by the Church.  It's taken me a long time to accept that, while I have not personally hurt them, I am part of an institution that has and it's not unreasonable for them to ask me to answer for that.

I try to be clear about my beliefs and about why I have chosen to remain in the Church.  I also try to articulate how I'm striving to make the Church better, while remaining firm in my support of Her.  I have to be both gentle and unafraid about how and why I disagree with the secular world as well.  Once again, I promise I'm listening and it's possible to change my mind.  Please be patient with me.

CAC: Where in NYC do you regularly find spiritual fulfillment?

ECS: I'm a bit of a parish hopper.  When I first came to NYC I fell in love with Saint Francis Xavier, near Union Square.  Their Young Adults Group was a great community for me, but after moving to Brooklyn and back I'm not as involved as I once was.  I've become more interested in traditional, more formal, liturgies. Saint Joseph of Yorkville is a beautiful neighborhood parish that has a highly reverent modern mass.  There are so many families with children there, it gives me great hope.  And the pastor is the man who reported on McCarrick so that's no small thing.... I like a priest I can respect, for obvious reasons.

When I'm feeling in particular need of deep ritual, I do love a Latin Mass. Saint Agnes by Grand Central is a great place to go for that. 

CAC: Where in NYC do you regularly find artistic fulfillment?

ECS: I already mentioned The Skeleton Rep, but one thing they do which I love are monthly artist salons.  Artists will get together, drink wine, and read new work, either a full play or short plays based on a prompt.  There is no formal feedback, just a chance for the writer to hear her play.  And afterwards we have a party.

CAC: How have you found or built community as a Catholic artist living in NYC?

ECS: Connecting with Brother Joe Hoover at Xavier Theater has really connected me with a great community of Catholic artists.  He has a way of making connections and bringing together a dynamic and diverse group of people with a huge variety of perspectives on the faith.  If you ever get the chance to work with them I highly recommend it.  Joe is a fantastic playwright and actor in his own right.

CAC: What is your daily spiritual practice?

ECS: I wish I had a better one...  I pray every day before I write.  My husband and I pray together before meals.  Recently, we've been doing a daily reflection before bed.  It's just one of those Little Blue Books you pick up from your parish during Advent, but it's been great.

CAC: What is your daily artistic practice? And what are your recommendations to other artists for practicing their craft daily?

ECS: I try to write for an hour every morning after working out and before leaving for work. This is really my sacred time: after my husband leaves, freshly showered, and place to myself.  It's short but it's extremely important.  And I can't stress enough the value of praying before you write. 

CAC: Describe a recent day in which you were most completely living out your vocation as an artist. What happened, and what brought you the most joy?

ECS: The most recent Skeleton Rep salon was on New Year's Eve.  I wrote a short piece for the event which spoke of my Catholic faith and it's relationship to the mission of the company.  Afterwards, another artist present pulled me aside to talk about how he is a Catholic as well but had stopped going to Church.  He was interested in going back, so we spent a long time talking about why I felt it was important for young Catholic artists to be in the faith and engage with it from the inside.  The whole conversation was so fulfilling for me. 

CAC: You actually live in NYC? How!?

ECS: I need to be completely up front and say that I have been incredibly privileged in terms of financial support from my family.  This is something we do not talk about enough in the arts.  My parents paid my rent and my tuition while I was in school and I am debt-free.  I'm also married to someone with a traditional career who contributes the majority of our income.  I am so incredibly fortunate it's not even funny.  

CAC: But seriously, how do you make a living in NYC?

ECS: Even with the financial support, I do have a full-time day job.  I don't know how anyone would make rent or buy groceries without one.  I work in social media marketing, which is great because it's mostly all remote.  I've also been nannying for my cousin's baby so making that sweet side cash.

It's a lot of work, and keeping my passion afloat on top if it, and making sure it remains my focus rather than just a "hobby" is a constant battle.

CAC: How much would you suggest artists moving to NYC budget for their first year?

ECS: I can't give a great answer to this, because it's so varied and I was in school when I started.  But consider that your monthly rent is likely to be over 1K no matter where you live.

CAC: What other practical resources would you recommend to a Catholic artist living in NYC?

ECS: I can't recommend enough reaching out to Xavier Theater for professional connections.  In terms of headshots, Joe Loper is a former classmate of mine who does a great job and is very reasonable. http://joeloper.com/

CAC: What are your top 3 pieces of advice for Catholic artists moving to NYC?

ECS: 1.) Don't rush finding your people.  It's a big city and it takes time.

2.) Exercise.

3.) Go to confession.  Why make art with sin on your soul?

[seriouslyhooked]

Scoring Your Love (Part 7/?)

Modern AU where Killian is a world famous soccer star who has hit rock bottom and been sentenced to the place where ‘football’ legends go to die – America. While here he crosses paths with Emma, an up and coming musician and film scorer who challenges everything he thought he knew and makes him want more than the game he’s always loved. Will be filled with fluff for days, and eventually rated M.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six. Story also on FF here and AO3 here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So another chapter is here and it’s the night of the first date! However, where I originally planned to have Killian and Emma’s POV in one chapter, I ended up writing something long enough that it feels right to split it in two. I know, I know, I can hear some of you cursing my name from here, but not to worry, the next chapter is already written and I will be posting it next week so the wait will not be too long! Anyway, before the date, Killian has a bit of a rough patch to get through, but rest assured we will end firmly in a fluffy place. I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for reading!

“So tonight’s the big night, huh?”

The question from David at the end of the day’s practice poked at the already present sense of awareness and apprehension that Killian had been grappling with since Emma accepted his invitation for a date this morning. David had held off on the interrogation during practice, despite the fact that Killian had clearly been distracted by planning and getting all of the details of his intended evening secured. It was a tricky task, but Killian was up to the challenge, and if he had to answer some questions from a well-meaning friend for a few minutes before heading out, that wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe it would save him a few minutes of pacing his apartment as he waited the acceptable amount of time before he could go get Emma.

“It is.”

“And you managed to get it all to work? The dinner and the castle and everything?”

“It’s not a castle, mate,” Killian replied before thinking of how to describe the huge estate that they’d be going to tonight. “And even if it were, that’s not the part that matters.”

“Of course not. Because why just woo a woman with a castle when you can also include some long cherished childhood memory?” David teased and Killian sighed. “But seriously though, you need any help or anything?”

“I think I know how to plan a date, Nolan,” Killian answered.

“Right but this isn’t just a date. It’s the date,” David asserted. “This one has to be right, man. Because if it all goes like I’m hoping mine will go with Mary Margaret, it could very well be the last first date you ever have.”

Killian didn’t have the ability to respond to David’s words. On the one hand they were cheesy and ridiculous, but there was a part of Killian that had been thinking the exact same thing. If things could already feel this right with Emma when they’d barely progressed at all, what was to say this relationship wasn’t heading in a direction Killian had never considered before? Chemistry like this didn’t just happen, and this sense of rightness didn’t come with every new fling. Killian knew that it made Emma special, that it made her more important than all the women who he’d known before her, but luckily he was saved from having to give a verbal response to his friend when a snort sounded from across the locker room.

“Shit, Dave, you really think that way, don’t you? Like life is some kind of fairytale or something.” Will’s words dripped with skepticism as he shook his head furiously. “That’s just bollucks! All of it is rubbish. Jones is going to go out, charm the girl, show her a few moves, and get her out of his system. At least he will if he has any damn sense at all in that thick skull of his.”

Killian’s hand flexed into a fist at the insinuation that he was using Emma somehow, but he bit back the instinct to bark at a man who, despite the comment, had proven himself to be mostly good. Killian took a steadying breath, reminding himself of something Graham had told him when he first arrived weeks ago. Once upon a time Will Scarlet had been the kind of man to believe in such happy endings and perfect matches, but the woman who he’d chosen to build those hopes with hadn’t chosen him back. As a result Will was about as anti-love and anti-romance as a man could be, and that was saying something given all the notorious players and commitment-phobes Killian had met in this sport.

“Is that the plan, Jones?” A female voice asked from behind him. Killian turned to the doorway where Regina Mills now stood and tried not to grimace. Their team owner was completely unfazed by the fact that this was a men’s area and that a number of them were in varying stages of undress, but then again Regina saw herself as a Queen and the others all seemed to grant her such allowances. “Are you dating this Miss Swan to ‘get her out of your system?’”

“Can’t see how my plans are anyone’s business,” Killian grumbled, holding his ground but it only made Regina grin wickedly as she flicked her wrist in a dismissive motion for the others.

“We need the room. Chop, chop.”

Despite how badly Killian didn’t want that one on one interaction, the others all obeyed the order, hustling out as she’d told them to. The only man who delayed at all in his leaving was Robin. He and Regina shared a look, and Killian was glad for what it said. His coach was warning Regina to watch herself, but Regina just shrugged and murmured some less than convincing promise not to make this too painful. Killian bit back a laugh at the thought – with Regina there were few kinds of interactions that didn’t end in at least mild discomfort.

“Now then, as I was saying,” Regina continued when the space was cleared. “You and this Swan girl – how serious is this?”

“Serious enough,” Killian responded. He was not willing to discuss this further with a woman he barely knew and who fancied that she had him on some kind of leash. Maybe the power rested more securely on her side of this dynamic, but Killian wasn’t interested in taking her crap to the extent that the rest of the team was. He’d resist as best he could while still preserving some kind of alliance between them.

“That’s what I figured,” Regina said, pulling a file from her purse as she did. She handed it his way, confusing him in the process but she went on to explain herself. “That’s everything there is to know about Emma no-middle-name Swan.”

“You’re kidding,” Killian said, truly thinking it was some kind of joke at first, and then he saw her face. “Are you mad?! You ran a background check? Why in the bloody hell did you do that?!”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Regina asked with a forced laugh. “I looked into her because you care about her, and since you are my team’s most valuable asset, I have to take precautions. We don’t want you falling into bed with the wrong kind of people, do we Killian?”

The rage that Killian felt in this moment was undeniable and impossible to tamper down. He could feel it boiling over, and biting his tongue would not do. The only hope he had was to quell it somehow, to choose a cold but cutting tactic instead of screaming in the face of the woman who owned his last chance at the career he had worked so hard for.

“I’m only going to say this once, Regina, so listen well: whatever usual play you have, whatever manipulation you’re hoping to wield, it will not work. What Emma and I have is private, it’s ours, and it’s not up for debate. I don’t want whatever dirt you believe that you’ve dug up. I will not be reporting aspects of my personal life to you in any capacity. And most importantly, I will not listen to you belittle Emma. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Regina said with a feigned sweetness. “Besides, we all have a past. And I’d say Miss Swan has done a good job of overcoming hers. I mean an Academy Award nomination at her age? That’s not easily done.”

“Excuse me?” Killian asked, not following Regina in the slightest.

“You didn’t know?” Regina asked, actually shocked. “Oh well, surprise! Seems your Swan is a prodigy of sorts and this year she got a little credit for it. Of course movie scoring doesn’t really mean that much in a town like this but statues are statues right?”

Killian didn’t bother responding, not knowing what to even say to these little morsels of Hollywood speak, and finally Regina seemed pleased enough with herself and her information dump to leave.  Killian meanwhile was reeling, not because of the discovery of Emma’s talents and distinction, but because of the way he’d found out. It felt important to him that when it came to Emma he leave the flow of things to her. For that reason he had resisted the urge to google her or look into her past, even when she’d told him of her work as a music designer. He’d been tempted all week to learn more about her, but Emma was a cautious person by nature, guarded and clearly hurting from some things in her past, and it felt unfair for him to know things she hadn’t told him yet. Trust had to be earned, and Killian was hell bent on earning all things from Emma.

Truth be told, however, his frustration with Regina, as strong as it might be, couldn’t stifle the immense surge of pride that came rushing into his heart for Emma. This happiness for her that bubbled up in his chest couldn’t be denied, and nor could the smile that appeared at his lips. Killian hadn’t known Emma very long but he knew she had to be gifted at her work. The way she’d talked about it and the way she was focused and driven and always pushing forward made it clear that this was something she had true passion for. That being said, Killian could only imagine her at the Oscars, dressed up, looking absolutely breathtaking but not truly being interested in any of it. Emma Swan might define beauty itself, but she was real in a way that would make an award show like that distasteful to her. Killian only wished he could have been there to see her in a state like that and support her in those hours of need.

“Bloody hell,” he said aloud then, having some things finally click into place. “That was her other engagement.”

Well now he felt even more like an arse than he had previously at his behavior. No wonder Emma hadn’t been bending over backwards to give up her plans and have dinner with him: the Academy Awards were more important than a first date with a practical stranger could ever be. He didn’t know whether to laugh or berate himself for it either, but either way it did no good to stay stuck in the past. All that he could do was be in the now, and ensure that this evening went as well as he was hoping. As such, he gathered the rest of his gear and headed out with only a few quick goodbyes to his teammates.

Though he’d only asked Emma out today, Killian had actually been planning this evening for some time. Two nights ago he stumbled upon the idea of a perfect first date with Emma but he stayed patient, looking for the right time to ask her. Thank God she’d said yes to tonight because Killian didn’t know how much longer he could wait. A week without physically seeing Emma had been hard, even with the phone calls and the texts lighting up each day. It was crazy, but he missed her when they were apart, even though they knew each other so little. But Killian had long ago abandoned any attempt at the ‘rational’ when it came to Emma. There was no trackable logic behind the emotions he already had, and in the end he had to do what David was always suggesting. He had to follow his heart in the hope that it would lead him where he so deeply desired to be.

Thoughts of Emma and of the upcoming evening consumed Killian as he got ready at home and then drove the span of road from his place to hers. Those thoughts were simultaneously good but also nerve wracking. Not since his year eight winter formal had Killian ever suffered such a bought of nerves over a girl. Even then, the fear had been sparked by the newness of interactions with the female sex and not the girl herself. But tonight, as he made his way through the streets of LA, Killian was beset with a showing of butterflies befitting a teenager.

Killian knew the stakes at play tonight and he felt the need for things to go well. It felt heavy, as if the weight of the future rested on his shoulders, but in the moments where it almost felt too much, he’d think of something Emma had said or the sound of her laugh, which he’d become more acquainted with during their phone calls the past few days. Those moments had a way of clearing out the uncertainty, and by the time he was at her front door he was clinging to hope even as he felt riddled with the energy of a momentous first date. He knocked immediately, not thinking of force or the number of knocks, only knowing that the sooner he saw Emma, the happier he would be.

Blessedly Emma appeared in seconds, opening the door and granting him a sense of peace in as she did, but no sooner had he calmed at seeing her then his heart beat skipped, his pulse went up, and his mind flooded with the vision that stood before him. Emma Swan was an undeniable beauty, perhaps the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but tonight she had forsaken her usual comfortable clothes for a look so scintillating he nearly forgot to breathe. With her hair cascading over her shoulder in golden waves, and a red dress made of lace that wasn’t too short or cut too deep, but fit her to perfection, Emma would give any model or actress in this city a run for their money. Her green eyes were brilliant, looking at him with the same kind of hunger he was feeling, and then she bit her lush red lips before whispering her greeting.

“Hey, you made it.”

Killian didn’t have words in this moment. Hell, he didn’t have much in the way of coherent thought except to think that she was exquisite, but then he was moving towards her, guided only by instinct and need. Emma looked surprised for a second as his hands encircled her and his lips descended down upon hers, but as soon as they made contact Emma’s mouth yielded to his and the taste of her filled Killian up completely. He was consumed by Emma, and never wanted this to end. A kiss like this stoked the best kind of flame. It breathed life into a man, made him wonder if there was anything better the world over, and then assured him there wasn’t. It was soul searing and so sweetly sublime he hated to pull back, but then a voice in the back of his mind reminded Killian that this was not how things were supposed to be. You didn’t kiss the girl first thing. You had to convince her of your merit, show her the date you’d prepared, and then maybe she’d allow you such a luxury when the evening was over.

When reason returned to the forefront of his mind once more Killian stepped back. He tried to compose himself but stumbled with the words in his mind. By the time they left his mouth, Killian felt almost bashful, like a boy instead of the grown man he was. 

“Apologies, love. I lost my head for a second at seeing you. I’m sor-,”

Killian didn’t get the chance to finish that statement as Emma pulled him down by the collar of his jacket, filling the space between them again and taking command of her own kiss. This one, though not as intense as the first, packed an even more powerful punch. For Emma told him with this brush of their lips that she was in this too, and that she didn’t fault him in anyway for going on instinct instead of sticking the course.

“I couldn’t let you apologize for a kiss like that,” Emma said when they finally broke apart. Her eyes were watching him, and something she saw in his face or expression made her smile. She was already glowing, already this radiant creature he could barely behold, but with this warm smile, and with the sensually lingering lust coloring the jade of her eyes, she was nothing short of perfection. “Honestly I should be thanking you.”

“Thanking me?” Killian asked with a gruff laugh. “Are my kissing abilities so undeniable they deserve gratitude, Swan?”

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head as she ran her hand over his chest lightly, but Killian knew from the faint blush on her cheeks that she had given his ‘talent’ quite a bit of thought.

“I was thanking you for not making us wait,” Emma clarified. “I know I said we should take things slowly, but… well it’s been a long week of wondering, and now I know.”

“Aye, love,” Killian replied, not needing her to elaborate as his hand came to cup her cheek. He understood her meaning. It had been a given in his heart that Emma would be spectacular, and any kind of intimacy with her would live up to those heights, but still – to feel it was something else. He felt categorically changed by what had just happened, and yet he also had complete and utter faith that it would not be their last kiss, only the first of many. “Now we know, and there’s no going back. Only forward, together.”

With that final promise, Killian offered his hand to this woman who enchanted him, waiting only a brief moment before Emma slipped hers in his grasp. Then, without further ado, he led her to an evening that Killian knew would forever change him and start the path to a whole new life he’d never actually dreamed could be real. His only hope was that Emma would feel the change too, and that she’d find herself falling just as swiftly and surely as he was already falling for her.

Post-Note: Okay, okay! I know that I said the date was coming this week, and I realize that I have conveniently not shown a bulk of the date – but I hope you will all be satisfied with the very healthy dose of fluff I provided you all. I have written so many CS love stories at this point, almost all of them including a first date, but I always love the ones where Emma and Killian don’t want to wait for the end to share a kiss. For this story it just felt right to me that we have that, and I hope you all will agree and that you have enjoyed the chapter. As always, I am so grateful that you’re all reading and commenting and messaging me your thoughts. It’s so fun writing a new story and interacting with all of you about it and I hope you’ll all continue with me as the story progresses. As I said, next week I will be back with the second half of the date, and in the meantime I hope you have a lovely rest of your weekend!

[aion-rsa]

How the Passion of Hannibal Lecter Inspired a New Opera About Dante

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When you hear the name Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a few things spring to mind—and none of them are likely to involve Italian poet Dante Alighieri or opera. Of course there’s good reason for this, with Lecter’s exotic cooking ingredients superseding his gentler affectations. But even so, when author Thomas Harris first imagined how the character might move in the wild for the novel Hannibal, it was with baroque glee he unleashed the doctor in Florence: Italy’s Renaissance city and Dante’s medieval stomping grounds.

Director Ridley Scott similarly understood that secret recipe. His film version of Hannibal relishes every Italian colonnade Anthony Hopkins walks under, or the way the shadow of the statue of David casts darkness on its star’s face, often as he stands in the same spot where men were hanged or immolated centuries ago. In its better moments, Scott’s movie savors that this is a story about a devil who covets the divine; it delights in playing like an opera.

Hence for the picture’s best sequence, the filmmakers commissioned a new “mini-opera,” one that would for the first time put music to verses that Dante wrote more than 700 years ago. And in the decades since the movie’s release, those fleeting  minutes of music have blossomed into a real, full-fledged opera about to have its world premiere. Once again the doctor’s distinct tastes and influences appear singular within the realm of movie monsters.

“He is a character that’s so exaggerated and extreme, I’m not sure if a person like Hannibal Lecter really could exist,” composer Patrick Cassidy says when we chat over Zoom, nearly 20 years to the day after Hannibal’s release. “He’s a great figure for drama because he is all of these extremes.”

Cassidy should know. Once a young Irish composer who was a relatively new member of Hans Zimmer’s large Remote Control Productions film scoring company, Cassidy’s sumptuous Italian aria “Vide Cor Meum” elevated Lecter’s Italian sojourn on screen, and placed its composer on the path to eventually becoming a Cavaliere dell’Ordine della Stella d’Italia (Knight of the Star of Italy). That’s all the more remarkable since Cassidy didn’t even speak Italian when he first set a Dante sonnet to music.

Looking back now, Cassidy remarks, “I was working with Hans Zimmer at the time, who was the composer on the movie. He works on a lot of projects simultaneously and he knew my strength was choral music… They needed an aria and they were shooting the scene in two weeks. So I was in the right place at the right time.”

The sudden impetus for needing an original aria in the movie seems to hail from Scott. In Harris’ novel, a similar scene occurs when Dr. Lecter attends the performance of a real symphony written in the 19th century, but for the movie Scott, Zimmer, and producers Dino and Martha De Laurentiis wanted something original: an aria based on a Dante poem which Hannibal repeats several times throughout the book and film. Written in 1283 when Dante was just 18, the poet’s first sonnet in La Vita Nuova is a paean to Beatrice, the woman he loved. Within its verse, the sonnet includes the following:

Joyfully Amor seemed to me to hold

my heart in his hand, and held in his arms

my lady wrapped in a cloth sleeping.

Then he woke her, and that burning heart

he fed to her reverently, she fearing,

Afterwards he went not to be seen weeping.

– Dante’s First Sonnet

Says Cassidy, “[The aria] had to be based on the first sonnet in La Vita Nuova because that sonnet has a metaphor about eating the heart. But of course Hannibal might have taken that in a literal sense.” Indeed, on both the page and screen, storytellers wanted Hannibal to pivot around the uneasy idea of the debonair cannibal giving his heart to Clarice Starling. After all, “Vide Cor Meum” is Latin for “Look into My Heart.”

Cassidy, however, had little time to digest these finer details when the opportunity to write the aria arose. Relatively new to Hollywood after being in Los Angeles only a year—and succeeding as a choral composer in his native Ireland with Children of Lir, the first major symphonic work in the Irish language—he was primarily tasked with working on library music at Zimmer’s company when the assignment came down: They needed “a good aria” ASAP.

“There was no room for anything to go wrong in a sense,” Cassidy says. “Ridley was already in Florence shooting the movie, but Ridley’s editor Pietro Scalia came into my studio and he brought in lots of CDs of Italian arias, being Italian himself.” This proved particularly useful because while the composer speaks Italian today, he needed to rely on Scalia’s ear while putting Dante’s words to music then.

Cassidy adds, “Ridley also sent me some sketches, which are very fantastic sketches of what the opera would look like. Of course then there was also Dante’s poem. So we started from that, and I think Pietro came back two days later and while I didn’t have the full aria written, I had a nice thematic kind of sense at that stage.”

By his own account, Cassidy estimates he wrote the full aria in under a week.

As a piece of choral composition, “Vide Cor Meum” is transcendently beautiful. Reliant on choral harmonies and luscious strings, the piece more than recites fragments of Dante; it taps into a sense of revelry and underlying melancholy—bringing out the inherent musicality in Dante’s lamentations. This is crucial to both the sonnet and the music’s effect, since the original verse was written in a style of poetry later dubbed by Dante to be the “dolce stil novo” (sweet new style) due to its idealization of Beatrice. This level of worshipfulness was significant for the author since the woman he adored died at the age of 25, four years before La Vita Nuova was released in 1294, complete with new prose around the sonnets in which Dante grapples with her death.

“Vide Cor Meum” brings those aspects out so hauntingly that it’s demanded greater attention ever since its inception. Even back in 2000, the piece was originally only meant to exist in its one minute of screen time; yet it was expanded to two and a half minutes at the request of Scott and the De Laurentiis’ after they heard that minute of music. And once the film was complete, Cassidy was then asked to turn it into a full aria of more than four minutes, or “mini-opera,” on the soundtrack.

Says Cassidy, “Everybody loved the aria instantly, and it was kind of immediate, really, for all the people involved, including Martha and Dino. Ridley especially loved it, and they were all thinking, ‘Maybe you should write a full opera?’ But then nobody knew what the opera should be about.” Editor Scalia did offer an amusing suggestion: write a full-length Italian opera about Hannibal Lecter.

It’s probably for the best that the Hannibal the Cannibal opera never happened, and as the years passed, everyone, including Cassidy, moved onto other projects. Still, the legacy of “Vide Cor Meum” continued to grow. In 2007, listeners of the UK’s Classic FM ranked the Hannibal score in the top 100 film soundtracks of all time (likely in large part due to “Vide Cor Meum”), and the piece has appeared in numerous other places, including another Ridley Scott film, Kingdom of Heaven.

“I loved it in that movie,” Cassidy says, “I thought that was an incredible scene. In many respects I even nearly prefer it in that movie than I do Hannibal.” And as the aria endured, so too did the persistent idea of expanding on it… and on Dante.

In 2010, producer Dino De Laurentiis passed away. While Cassidy had lost touch with the De Laurentiis family over the years, they obviously left a mark on each other, with Cassidy’s career rising after “Vide Cor Meum,” and Dino accepting his Irving G. Thalberg award from the Academy in 2001 to an orchestration of the aria—a development Cassidy suspects Dino’s wife had a hand in.

“Martha loves the piece, so I think she probably organized that,” Cassidy says. “When Dino passed away, I went to the funeral and I was going to pay my condolences to Martha, and there were rows and rows of people around her. But she saw me in the back and she said, ‘Hey, Patrick where’s Dino’s opera?!’”

It’s visibly a sweet memory for Cassidy, even as he recalls he didn’t tell Martha at the time he’d already begun work on expanding what was originally just a two-minute composition into an opera, one with a specific subject matter: Dante Alighieri.

Cassidy says, “Maybe two or three years later, I called her into my studio to give her a presentation of what I’d done on the opera and she loved it, and she wanted to be the producer immediately.” He was also able to show why the opera could only ever be about Dante, the medieval writer who similarly electrified the imaginations of Thomas Harris and his most famous fictional character.

“I think Dante was transitioning out of the Middle Ages into the Renaissance,” Cassidy says about the poet. “Especially in La Vita Nuova, the poetry is in the troubadour tradition of the idea of chivalric love. So it’s kind of a foreign idea to us. When we think of love [it’s] not as an idealization, but just a passion in a sense… for him [love] was quite religious, and he often associates Beatrice with the Virgin Mary.” That sense of an almost deification of love—Amor is a godlike character in La Vita Nuova—also gave Cassidy the space to build a story out of Dante’s life, as opposed to just adapting his most famous and macabre work, La Divina Commedia (The Divine Comedy).

“I realized the mistake would have been to do an opera about La Divinia Comedia where you had the Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradisio,” says Cassidy. “What I did instead was [make] the opening scene in the opera be the first meeting of Beatrice and Dante when they’re both 12 years of age. And then the opera finishes when Dante, at the end of Paradisio, meets Beatrice again in the heavenly paradise, which is the Garden of Eden. So that was the core of the story, it’s a love story of Dante in pursuit of Beatrice.”

It’s a shrewd choice since many forget that at the end of La Vita Nuova, Dante concludes by saying he will write an epic poem unlike any other, and it will be dedicated to Beatrice. Nearly 30 years later, and about 12 months before Dante’s own death in 1321, The Divine Comedy was published with its most famous passages about Dante descending down through the nine circles of Hell. However, it also features Dante ascending to the heavens where he finds Beatrice as his guide to Paradise. When these elements are combined, you have the stuff of opera.

“The second act is Inferno,” Cassidy says, “And at the beginning [of the act], Dante meets Virgil, and Virgil explains that he has been sent by Beatrice to guide him through the underworld.” In the pits of Hell, “Vide Cor Meum” will even have a reprise. While the aria appears much as it did in Hannibal during the first act of Cassidy’s opera, it’s then sung a second time in act two when a siren in the Inferno attempts to seduce Dante, and Beatrice’s angelic voice intercedes.

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It’s an ambitious concept, and one Cassidy has been working toward on and off for six years. The composer’s Dante was supposed to have its world premiere later this year in Verona—in time for the 700th anniversary of Dante’s death in 1321. Unfortunately, like many other plans since 2020, whether Dante meets that anniversary is currently up in the air.

“We were hoping to premiere it in the anniversary year,” Cassidy says, “but I don’t know what’s going to happen.” Fortunately, the Irish composer can stay busy. With Dante finished, Cassidy is already working on his second opera, this one with the added challenge of being in English: King Arthur.

“After writing a whole opera in Italian, [you realize] it’s the best language for music. I mean, you really can’t go wrong because it just sounds so beautiful… writing a new opera in English, it’s more difficult. It’s more difficult to make work.” Although as with Dante, King Arthur provides Cassidy with the chance to explore medieval classics, specifically Sir Thomas Malory’s famed 15th century tellings of the King Arthur legend.

Cassidy also recently released a new recording of “Vide Cor Meum” on Apple Music and Spotify, one of two pieces he now has in “A-List Classical” on Apple after another of his works, “The Proclamation,” gained international attention when it was used by President Joe Biden during his Presidential Inauguration Mass. But Cassidy does remain hopeful that Dante will still have its day this year, in Verona or otherwise.

“I would hope that even if we don’t get a full production that we will get something done on Dante this year, because it is an anniversary,” Cassidy says.

Whenever it does debut, Dante and its most famous aria will have come a long way from their origins in a horror movie. But in a certain sense, one imagines Dr. Lecter would approve.

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[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Taking Action

FINALLY. Months of writer’s block and my typing laptop’s battery finally dying, my next chapter in the Mary Grayson Talon story is here. Call this a very late Christmas present for you all. 

Constructive criticism is always welcome.

@lightdusk96 @fireflyxrebel @tarisilmarwen @nightglider124 @robxstar , Thanks for everything, you beautiful bastards 

As the Xenothium factory hummed down below from her rooftop position, The Talon lets a breath that shows itself as a little cloud of fog courtesy of the cold air. Red X was in position, as he signaled bird clad warrior,

“Alright ma’am, I’m rolling up to the front doors.”

“Ok, so far so good. I guess I’ll be making my way around then.”

“Before you do anything though, remind me again how this can put a dent on these Court guys again?

“Easy, the owner of this cooperation is an Owl. I have scared off plenty already but it looks like they’re moving ahead with their little plan and I can’t, I repeat, I CAN NOT risk the Titans or even the candidates for the Mayor get caught in the middle of something I can stop. So letting this one know of what we prove a turning point.”

“How exactly…?”

“In recent years, The Court has been supplying their Talons with Xenothium based weapons, weapons that can pass even through a metal detector without any hassle, in which can only boost their killing power, and bear in mind that power was pretty deadly before I was even there…”

“So take away the big boys’ toys, and they’ll go sulk to their rooms for bed”

“Precisely”, nodded the Talon as she flipped off the last flag pole in her descent from the rooftop and begin making her way to the garbage truck parked outside the Xenothium factory.

As Red X, wearing not his signature suit but rather a simple workers uniform complete with a standard issue cap and convincing fake moustache hanging onto his face, makes his way pushing an entire hand truck’s worth of ‘Xenothium-filled’ barrels into the main entrance, he can’t help but not one puzzling question he has to address before he has to start talking to their workers around him.

“What about Chuckles and his happy little friends?”

As Mary Grayson the Talon knocks out a guard with the bunt end of her knife before dragging his unconscious body to the side, she replies with, “If the Titans or hell even Zucco’s men do take notice and start coming after us, you can get start making a run for the Xenothium and do what you do best.”

“So I’m bait?”

“Bait, who just so happens to have a way out.”

“Oh yeah, there’s you” X chuckles to himself.

Just in time too, for he’s now arrived at the main processing part of the factory itself, numerous machines humming a glorious and thunderous but calm buzz in their atmosphere, the random banging emerging from the top signifying the crushing of individual atoms that give Xenothium its nuclear sting when in use. Next one of these machines, X places one if his four barrels at a spot just close enough but not enough for anyone to take notice as the other barrels next to it are a relatively further distance from the machines. X does this three more times before finally just letting the hand truck go and making his way back to the doors.

“Alright, Ma’am, Phase 1 is a go.”

Mary, now making her way into the factory’s offices towards the owner’s own room, gives a nod and then a reply,

“Ok then, you might want to start dressing up for this party then.”  

Red X couldn’t help but slip a small smirk as he exited the factory since now all it takes is a good signal to get everyone out of the way of what will soon be a firework show on par with that little comic he reads, V for…something, he forgot.

As X made his department into the streets, the Talon had finally reached the door to the owner’s room and to further increase her chances of entering, no guards were present. All she needed now was confirmation of the owner being present inside. Placing her ear on the door, Mary can hear a distinct, rough, almost Russian accent coming through…

“…Yes My Grandmaster. The weapons are almost ready. The night this city shall onto grips will soon come. By this week’s end, the prey of our fierce might will be consumed in the sharp claws of our might. Yes, the Titans will not even know what hits them by the time they even reach…the labyrinth. Those brats will know fear alright. Hail Barbatos.” The phone clicks off as said device was placed on its place. Now was the moment to strike.

With a blazing swiftness, the rouge Talon slips the door open and pins this man, Nikita Jughashvili, onto the wall with some wire sprouting from her knives keep him there. At any minute, she can trigger these wires to discharge a large voltage of electricity onto Nikita’s flesh. But for now, she didn’t want that, at least not yet, for now she wanted to talk.  

“Mr. Jughashvili, I would like to discuss about your business.”

The wealthy man, along a streak of white and grey hair on his sideburns and one glaring brown colored eye with the other just a black orb in its place, just look at his assailant with a bit of shock

before letting it slip into… arrogance out of all things.

“Well, well, well, the golden girl of the Court finally decides to face me directly.”

“Why the smirk, Mister, you do realize of what I can do…”

“Though, I don’t care. Your defection however, intrigues me.”

“How’s that…?” Mary asks, right before being cut off by the sudden whooshing noises right behind her. Next thing she knew, three mores Talons, all in similar uniforms to hers, landed and whipped out their swords. Mary looks back at Mr. Nikita, who now had a nasty smirk growing on his face.

“You did not seriously believe your terrorism against the Court would go unnoticed now did you? Against the power of Gotham’s true fathers, there can be no victory. Do not spoil yourself and your already meaningless life fighting. Reconsider your efforts, simply let me loose from these wires, come upon your knees and say ‘I surrender to my Master with all intent and will forever grovel at his…”

*SLASH*

Nikita Jughashvili had never had a chance to finish his little monologue before Mary Grayson performs a clean yet bloody slice to the disgusting man’s throat, leaving his head to roll to the other Talons’ feet. They took this as their cue to lunge forward with their blades up in front, hoping to impale the rouge right here right now. That decision does not go well as Mary quickly draws her own swords from her back as the battle begins.

In the midst of sword clings and slashes that scratches all four birds, Mary manages to tap unto the communicator on her ear to signal X of the…little side block to their plans.

“Red X, can you hear me?”

“Just strapping on my last and got my handy dandy trigger to distract the…”

“Push that trigger, now!”

“Um…what was that?” Red X asks with a tiny bit of shock.

“It was a step up! They knew what we’re doing!! Check your sides!”

As if on cue, X looks to his left side, narrowly avoiding the sword blade and allowing it to hit the concrete block wall before swinging his leg without his boot on and slamming the Talon right on his head. Oh yeah…classic booby-trap. So one button press later…

Meanwhile…In Downtown Jump

Robin had just secured another tight landing on the neighboring rooftop after about three times in a row of doing such right after a classic grapple hook swing. The patrol had been going on for about three hours by now. Every now and then, a Trade Fed Helicopter would pass by but otherwise no activity had been reported for them. No lead up on his long lost mother, no clue on Slade’s whereabouts, not super criminal robbery, not even a dang small time gang fight. For the most part, the lack of activity both relaxed and infuriated Robin. The normally quiet nights always signaled to him that while having a soothing and calm atmosphere in which he can use to hang out with his friends, something sinister can using this time to plan cunning and damaging schemes that will, not can but will, hurt his friends and the city they’ve defending for years by now.

Both thankfully and regretfully, Robin’s wish for action was fulfilled when a massive explosion both in gunpowder and the red distinctive glow of Xenothium echoed from the Lokiva plant about 10 miles away. Something’s causing trouble, so now he knows who to call.

“Titans, meet me at Lokiva plant, NOW!”

“Roger that!” replied Cyborg

“Understood” replied Starfire

“On my way” replied Beast Boy

“Same here” replied Raven, and finally

“It’ll just take a minute” replied Kid Flash

Two minutes later…Lokiva Xenothium Plant

As all six member of this Titans team land in the outside of the plant, they frankly wish they hadn’t due to the amount of heat generating from the huge fire they see in front of their very eyes. The tall and daunting trees of flame and ash erupting from the building were the stuff of legend in terms of the size of pure destruction they have ever witnessed. On many levels, this flame storm reminds them heavily of Trigon’s ascension onto the mortal plane, and that’s a VERY bad reminding they need.

To their collective relief, fire trucks and police officers were on duty, tending to the numerous workers who’ve escaped and rushing into the towering flames pulling more of those workers out of the fiery maelstrom. That’s where they come. So then, a grand total of thirty minutes and about three back drafts in which would’ve leveled the entire block plus more had it not been for Kid Flash and Cyborg’s quick timing and thinking, and while every civilian was in fact accounted for and safe, now the question becomes very obvious: who started this explosion?

As the firefighters pressed onward dousing the towering flames, the answer became all the more

clear when Robin notices something on the rooftops on top of them all, what seem to be two distinct glowing little lights looking down upon the fire, perching like an owl glaring for its next prey. With an urge to chase down the lights, Robin’s body begins to slightly tense since he knows at the moment that this particular crisis was more apparently than hunting down the Talon. However, the Police Chief running the operation, Chief O Hara, had noticed this anxiousness and walks up to Robin, “We’ll take it from here, whatever you needed for, you can go.”

Robin nearly double takes, ‘But Chief, we can try helping with the…”

But then the good old O Hara places his hand on Robin’s shoulder, “I know the look of when you have something or someone vital to find, sonny. We’ll all be okay.” He finished with s small smirk and a nod

With that, Robin now knows what he and his Team must do and nods too.

“Titans, the firefighters can take it from here. Follow me!”

With that, Mary Grayson begins her chase across the rooftops away from the burning factory. By the time Mary reaches the third rooftop away, the distinct glows of Starfire, Kid Flash, and Cyborg appear rising from edge of the roof she was once on. It was made clear they would indeed follow her until they can get their hands on her. This was precisely what banked on though as she taps until her earpiece, communicating with Red X.

“They’re right behind me and closing,. are you on the spot?”

The feedback had a  tad bit  of static coming through but otherwise fine enough, “Yeah, I’m at the spot. Let me tel you something though, those Talon friends of yours REALLY don’t know the meaning of ‘piss off’”

A small chuckle came from Mary’s end, “Well that’s what they are trained and meant to do. Nut anyways, I’m closing in, stick to the shadows.”

“Gotcha”

The microsecond Mary taps out of her comm link, the distinct yellow lightning of Kid Flash nearly hits her face, indicating a missed punch. With that, she knew where she was now and with one more leap, Mary begins her descent down from her last rooftop and towards the alleyway down below. Barely dodging more of Kid Flash’s attacks and now Starfire’s trademark star bolts as she flips and hops down the building stairs, Mary only now begins to spot some UH 60 Blackhawk helicopters hovering above her and the pursuing Titans, indicating of Boss Zucco’s Trade Federation forces joining in the chase. This quick little speculation was confirmed with  TF troops beginning their own descent via ropes coming out of the Blackhawks.

Finally, the rouge Talon touches the concrete, only to be met on both sides of the alley with opponents she really hadn’t banked on being together. Towards her left were the faceless and well armed TF troopers, all taking aim with apparent now pure shotgun, assault rifle and sub machine gun firepower and red dot lasers out of their aiming sights to ensure accuracy int his nighttime operation. On the opposite end were the Titans, living breathing spirits of strength made into teenage flesh and bone, all led by the one person she considers her dearest love in the whole world. Said love, whipping out his two escrima sticks with tasers at the ends, stared her down as Mary simply stood and stared back.

“Look whatever you are doing has gone far enough” Robin firmly yet loudly enough states with a tad bit a shakiness, “I know what you might be doing might be for the best for me, but the facts are that innocent people are getting hurt and maybe far worse, your little war has turned into full blown terrorist attacks! I-I-I don’t to say it l-l-like that…but you HAVE to stop all of this before more innocents are caught in the…” Robin never had a chance to complete his sentence. Mary simply just raises her hands into the air, dropping her bag unto the ground. Both the TF and Titans were simply…stunned. They didn’t honestly expect that.

They almost certainly didn’t also expect the lone Talon to simply walk up to them, not taking out any of her swords or knives, slightly dropping her hands in front of her, in a submissive position.

“Okay,” the Talon mutters, almost cheerfully, “you can take me in right now.”

“Uh ma’m?” Cyborg questions, his index finger on his left hand rightfully pointing out the swords on her back. Said question was almost immediately answered with the Talon proceeding to unstrap the swords from her, letting them and the belt of throwing knives drop to the ground.

Robin, taking said dropping as his personal cue, puts away his escrima sticks in place of high powered handcuffs. Apparently, his mother wanted them, so why not?

Taking note of the TF troops moving up by a least two steps as they prepare to apprehend his mother, Robin simply raises his hand up,

“We’ve got this.” he says with now absolute firmness behind it.

The troops look at each with expectant questioning looks on their faces. So much questioning so that the lead troop, distinct by his blue/red bandanna underneath his helmet, taps unto his own communicator to talk with the Boss himself. The almost silent atmosphere between the TF and the Titans lasts a grueling one or two more minutes before the lead troop taps his ear piece off.

Beast Boy felt and unnerving sense of what should the right question be at this moment, 'What The freaking hell is actually going on here and what we are doing exactly?!’.

Such a question will have to asked maybe later though, as the lead TF troops signals his squad via

head and hand cues; the Boss said the target was clearly in Titan hands and if we try blowing them away over this, the city officials especially the cops will notice and with all the publicity looking for ANY sort of scandal, big or small, they can use to discredit him, they will use this as their way to do so. Besides if anything, despite his deal with the Court, it’s clear that they weren’t not really so good fellas any and where mostly likely gonna take him out eventually and maybe, just maybe the team he openly bashes in his speeches will be far better as allies at the moment anyways. With the Talon on their hands, maybe they can even get an answer or two out of her without pointlessly torturing her like they would’ve done. So the order was given, “Stand down and just let the kids take the dumb-*ss bird lady anyways.”

With that, the TF begins their climb back up the ropes to their Blackhawks with the last troop to go up giving an unseen glare towards Robin and the Talon before the command of “Come on, Kenny!” from his comrades above in their Blackhawk cue him to take the rope back onto the flying craft.

“So….that was easy.” Kid Flash comments as the Blackhawks fly off and they are left with their bird themed prisoner.

Twenty Minutes Later….Titans Tower Holding Cells…

Mary Elizabeth Llodveski Grayson, now mostly stripped of her Talon gear including her mask and now fitting with most plain clothing that of course exposes her arms, face, and neck of the near grey and blue vein skin albeit with her still shining dark red hair wrapped in a ponytail, takes note of the relatively decent sized but still frustratingly apparent cell being in the shape of an average looking bedroom. More specifically, her own bedroom that she and her late husband John shared during their days as the Flying Graysons, right down to the poster  of their troop on the wall right on top of her bed, the exact same spot she had back at the circus. She guessed her son had some courtesy to make sure she was comfortable in her stay, or rather imprisonment, in their Tower. Not that comfort would matter too much since her mission was accomplished; unbeknownst to both the Titans and the TF at her arrest, Mary had secretly dropped a USB drive unto the ground but at an angle neither side can see it right away. The only one person who knows of this drive was Red X, the politely albeit rough around the edges young man who’ve helped her escape the TF crackdown a few weeks ago and worked with her on covering her assault on one of her targets in this city. By now he should be safe and sound in his secret headquarters (i.e. the Robert Kane slums), USB drive in hand with all the info of what he needs to give the proper warning to both Zucco and most especially her son of what the Court plans to do…

Whoosh

The sliding doors open, revealing a certain red, green and yellow clad vigilante with a black domino mask and steel toed boots as he approaches Mary’s cell door.

“Why did you do it?”

“You mean the surrender part or the destruction of the Xenothium plant? Or even that maiming of that family?”

“All of it and you should know that Mom”

A deep sigh is heard from the other side as Mary gathers her thoughts, “It’s quite easy, Little Robin. A warning. to be specific, the first incident was meant to warn the Court that they will not make their city their own unless they get through me first. The last two things however, were more of their warning to me.”

Robin raises an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“Well, i knew it but it’ll be a matter of time before the Court themselves took notice of what was I doing to their members left and right…”

“You mean that little girl whose limbs you shattered and now Mr. Jughashvili’s beheading?”

“And I freely admit my apologies for those two..”

“You better be thankful that we asked the Law and the TF to let us take you into our custody and you’re very lucky you can’t really die again, otherwise given what you’ve done and the type of people after you…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay Little Robin. I understand and frankly I do deserve whatever sort of punishment should be done to me right now and…”

“MOM!” Mary quickly gets stunted into silence.

Realizing his shout, Robin quickly breathes out to collect himself before letting his emotions get the better of him once again. “I’m simply here to ask you about why you surrendered. I can tell there’s something bigger you’re up to and need answers to them.”

“Please mom, you got to work with me here. Whoever’s planning whatever and if it puts innocent lives in grave danger, you HAVE to let us know.”

Mary, knowing of a semi desperation in Robin’s request despite no apparent signs of showing it, looks unto her hands to note, with her streak maiming and killing, it’s quite surprising her morally driven (a fact she’s very proud of) son would demand her the truth without resorting to much more…rougher methods of extracting the information she wants to tell them but couldn’t out of fear for their safety. Given what she knows now and the building pressure in the atmosphere, well might as well spill the beans.

“The Court of Owls are preparing for a certain night. Maybe later this week or even tomorrow, they are readying their finest assassins and soldiers into an all out assault. ”

“What soldiers?”

“Every Talon that’s not me, they’ve probably shipped about at least tens to hundreds of them here from Gotham probably just today. The Lokiva Plant was run by a well member of the Court, secretly crafting and preparing Xenothium  weapons that these Talons can use.”

“For their attack? Mom, what kind of night are talking about here because it sounds like something we should’ve prepared for months by now.”

“They’ve prepared this night, A Night of the Owls, for months actually, a contingency should one of their own turn his back on them as they secret convert this city and its criminal underground into their own. Granted, they never had total control of even Gotham even when you were little, given the amount of villains that hellhole already has…”

“The point?”

“By at least the end of this month from now, a full entire Private Army of assassins like me but without any thought of their own will target ANYONE that can stand in their way of claiming this city as their own.”

“Anyone? As in whoever’s running the city?”

“Along with whoever’s running to take charge like Zucco and especially it’s resident self proclaimed protectors.” Mary finishes somewhat mournfully given who she means with that last statement.

“You mean us.”

“(sniff) Pretty much yes. And it’s all my fault. Had I not thought of you and rebelled. I would’ve made sure none of this happened. I should’ve long dead by now. I should’ve let that fall just finish me off and I could’ve known you were going to be in good hands instead of the Court’s. (sob) God damn it all. (sob) Have could’ve been so God damned stupid?! How could I..?!”

Mary abrupt found herself cut off a sudden tightening around her chest section. Looking around her was the notable red tunic her son wears on duty now wrapped her as his arms were wrapping around her. Mostly one of the Graysons’ trademark 'cool down’ hugs they would give to each other whenever their own goes through emotional distress, like what she was.

As Robin finishes his cool down hug to his mother, his Mama, he quietly steps back outside her cells and gently closes her door before finally collecting himself to speak.

“Whatever comes our way, we’ll take it down. We will not let this city fall as far as we are concerned.”

Mary remains silent in near wonder of her son’s determination that she can clearly her.

“If we can beat a madman who went as far as torturing me on a mental level literally whenever I was in the dark, an entire of school of egotistical kids who want to be criminals or even the Devil himself and save our friends numerous times in the process, we can beat these Talons and this Court. The Court are just enough group of bad guys. They just so happen to be a little grey around the edges.”

“Can you?”

“We will Mom. And once the Court are beaten, no matter what night it’ll be, we’ll find a way.”

Noticing her son’s valiant determination in his little speech, Mary feels something else besides the usual Mother’s Love and pride at work work…something rather more on her mind..something that says to her “Yeah, you didn’t really need to do all of this, but this is your chance to free yourself from these criminals and live a new life outside”…something that says confidence in her future ahead,,,something that let’s her know it’ll work, no matter if it’s the hard way or not, it’ll all work out in the end…something that says…hope.

Yeah..that was it…hope. And her son gave it, of course he would, he is her Little Robin after all.

Epilogue : Robert Kane Slums

As Red X entered his abandoned house/HQ via the secret window, he checks his belts for signs of that dang stick of plastic Mrs. Talon made such a fuss earlier that day to make sure he got once she was taken in by Chuckles and his friends.

Quickly noting the USB drive safe and sound and making his way to his little laptop, X turns on the little computer as he pulls off the skull like mask of his face , letting loose his black hair with a white streak on the front end and his near pale skin, with a notably 'J’ mark on his right cheek so said facial features can breathe in fresh air as the laptop loads.

As the laptop screens finally shows and the USB given by Talon in secret registers, one note file appears, “WARN THEM ALL; ASSEMBLE THE TITANS”. Clicking open the file, X couldn’t find himself both amused and even alarmed of what was being loaded onto his screen.

'Ofelia Garibaldo, City Manager.’ 'Tina Polanski, Jump Public Advocate’ 'Slade Wilson, Criminal Mastermind and Former Mercenary for the League of Shadows and United States Government’ 'Jason Haywood Todd, Local Thief known as the Red X’ The names went on, up to probably a thousand and growing by the time the file was halfway done.

On yeah, this was big. X might not be a hacker or expert of sneaking onto Titans lines by any means…but he knows he has to…given what the birds here are going to do. Better act fast though.

Meanwhile, Jump Civic Authority Party Headquarters, Downtown

“You heard me right guys. I quit.”

“Certainly, you must be joking of such. No single man dares to defile a deal made with us and expect no consequences as a result,”

“Oh I know, I’ll get consequences. I’ll be expecting those birdies or yours to barge in my office and saying the usual 'The Court has sentenced to die’ shtick maybe while I’m doing some paperwork or listening to ave maria while trying to perform urinating in my toilet upside down out of boredom on the day you’re ready. Frankly, I can’t even give a damn if I try with sincerity.” Zucco states as his cigar smoke reaches the ceiling fan as the hologram call from the masked Owl glares him down as if he was on spot, given said hologram showing the man in his appropriate size when faced for real.

“You shall pay for this defiance.’

"I paid for plenty in my life, Paid for stuff i didn’t even do. The fact of the matter is that I didn’t get your Talon and you probably going to take me out once I was elected anyways. The deal was off the minute she got away from my boys twice by now. So yeah, bottom line is, it’s off and you better have enough Talons to try to get me when this 'Night’ thingie blows over. IF push comes to shove, I’ll fight alright. Screw you guys, I’m staying at my new home.”

“YOU WILL-”

“Ah ,ah. Screw you guys.”

Thus Zucco hangs up and the Owl’s hologram fades out.

“Come and get me. I dare you”

[vulturepunk-archival]

an incomplete list of the best books/plays that i own

The Complete Tales & Poems of Edgar Allan Poe: i only ever read from this book under weirdly specific circumstances (it has to be autumn, i have to have a mug of tea with cinnamon in it, preferably i am reading by candlelight and have just cleaned myself up after robbing a grave) but it is a delightful experience when i do read it. 

The Road by Cormac McCarthy: do you like bleak post-apocalyptic hopelessness, and the very human determination to keep living despite of it? are you a fan of narration that bleeds between external and internal with no clear distinction between the two? are you prepared to grapple with humanity’s capacity for both extreme cruelty and extreme tenderness, and to sit staring into space for a while as you recover from a book hangover? boy oh boy do i have a book for you!

Codex Seraphinianus by Luigi Serafini: it’s an encyclopedia written in a language that doesn’t exist, containing detailed illustrations of things that also do not exist. there’s a step-by-step diagram of two people(?) doing the horizontal tango and morphing together to form a singular alligator. fun to bring out at parties.

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath: i read this entire book while hiding in the stairwell of a very loud club, having not slept in thirty hours, so my memory of it is a little shaky and weird, but.  esther greenwood is a very relatable character if you’ve ever struggled with mental illness. it’s good

The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde: okay oKAY first let me tell you about my boy oscar wilde, he was a victorian playwright and proponent of the aestheticism movement (beauty for beauty’s sake) who had several male lovers and an applaudable fashion sense (”looking good and dressing well is a necessity. having a purpose in life is not.”- Mr. Wilde). he was a great dude. but anyways. The Importance Of Being Earnest is a farce about the hypocrisies of victorian culture, which is way more funny than it sounds, and some of the commentary is still relevant today. pretty much every other line is a pun.  one of the characters was left in a handbag in a coat room when he was a baby. he argues with another character about whether or not he’s eating muffins with the appropriate amount of agitation. you should read this play. right now. if you are not reading this play as we speak then honestly what are you doing with your life

The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell: do you like xenobiology? linguistics? religion? gratuitous world-building? suffering?  i have a book for you!!! prepare to question your belief in God (or lack thereof) and carve out some time in your schedule to recover from the emotional whiplash

The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon: it’s a dystopian adventure in a future version of london where clairvoyants exist and everyone uses victorian era slang, for some reason. the world-building is complex and satisfying and there’s a vaguely creepy, stockhold syndrome-esque romance between the main character and her alien captor. what more could you want

Mistress of the Art of Death by Ariana Franklin: i’m going to be honest with you. i have not read this book. i impulse-bought it when i was having a bad day months ago, and it’s pretty much at the bottom of my extensive to-read list. but come on. “Mistress of the Art of Death”? that is an unnecessarily cool title. and it’s got some cool art on the cover. 10/10