the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
“So is no one going to talk about the eldritch space child or…”
“I mean, do you want to get between a child and Batman? I think the only one who could even get close right now is Superman…”
“No you’re right, I think- oh my god the eldritch space child is playing with batman’s bat-ears and he’s not doing anything about it what the fuck I thought only Robins could get away with that-”
Danny gave the Justice League a specialized summoning ritual for emergencies in case they can't reach him the normal ways or if they need him there instantly. They've thankfully never had to use it before.
Then Phantom disappears.
He doesn't show up for patrol or monitor duty, doesn't answer his communicator, nothing. The League is getting worried, especially with the increase in ghost activity (and how *weird* that activity is, it's almost like all these ghosts are looking for something, rather than trying to cause trouble, and they take off anytime someone from the League shows up, yelling about the JL being "government goons" as they do).
Out of any other options after a couple weeks of Phantom going MIA, they break out the Summoning Circle, honestly worried that it won't work. That Phantom might be *gone* and they'll never know what happened.
It does work though.
At least, it works to Summon *someone*
A kid, a scrawny teenager with black hair and blue eyes, cut open and bleeding green and red from the gaping Y incision carved into his chest, wearing a medical gown and heavy chrome and green cuffs on his wrists.
"Stop saying Crowley won't help Aziraphale in S3 he'd go back to him in a HEARTBEAT and nothing would stop him" I get it no one likes the idea of Crowley being bitter after what happened for a long period of time but like can we at least acknowledge that he's currently going through probably the most emotional pain in his life since falling? Can we agree that he's opened his heart entirely - something you couldn't pay him to do unless the world is literally ending and he's desperate - to Aziraphale, and got shot down? Can we understand that he did it AGAIN only to lose Aziraphale again? Not that what Aziraphale did isn't without Crowley's own shortcomings (hiding the truth of Heaven's cruelty from him) but like,,,,
The appeal here isn't Scorned Crowley Doesn't Love Aziraphale Anymore, or Never Wants To Help Him Again, the appeal here is Crowley learning enough self respect to not just walk back right to Aziraphale like nothing happened after Aziraphale has had a pattern of consistently refusing him. Going years ping-ponging between "We're not friends I don't even know him" to "That's what friends are for right?" and "We're friends, why would you even say anything?" and "Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon!"
Like I get it, Crowley is a heartbreakingly forgiving person. Of course he's gonna forgive Aziraphale, I'll be surprised if he didn't forgive him by the time he walked out the bookshop door, but gdi he could at least grant himself the luxury of being at least a little irritated for longer than however long it takes to make a globe and some books float and angrily cry out to God in his flat. But due to the change of pace and dynamic that is establishing part of the conflict for Season 3, I just really like the idea of him for ONCE prioritizing himself and being like "Okay, fine. We'll get back at it when you're ready, then," instead of just taking Aziraphale back like his words and actions meant nothing to him, when clearly they have an effect on him.
What is Aziraphale going to learn if Crowley just accepts what he did so quickly, like he always has the entire time they've been friends? Idk maybe I'm just projecting too much darkness on their dynamic but I mean, if the pattern of Aziraphale pushing Crowley away/disrespecting him one day and then being fine with his friendship the next + Crowley never stopping to be like "Hey, that's not cool, at least give me a little credit" or smth was fine all along and will continue to be fine in the future, then why, after 6,000 years of being friends and loving this demon, can Aziraphale still not accept that Crowley is just fine the way he is, and instead got excited to promote him to an angel in a heartbeat once the opportunity presented itself? You can't blame all of it on Heaven when Aziraphale has demonstrated his free will/defiance to Heaven so many times. Or, I don't know, I guess maybe we can? Maybe I'm just craving too much angst to the point where I'm letting it cloud my analysis of canon. Idk.
Heartbroken reminder that Egwene is 17 when she gets taken by the Seanchan, spends two months in captivity being tortured, used as a weapon and dehumanized. When she gets back to the Tower, she immediately passes a test that's not at all traumatic, nearly gets killed by a Grey Man and is sent on a secret mission to hunt murderers completely unsupervised. During this period of wandering, lacking direction, she naturally gets angrier and erratic, but Nyn and Elayne mostly treat it as childish rebellion against Nyn's authority, with Elayne slapping Egwene because she was mean to Nyn. When the girls eventually get captured because they are not equipped at all to hunt the Black Ajah, Egwene becomes so terrified of being taken again that she keeps on resisting the sisters long past it is sensible, earning a brutal beating from the sisters who throw her back into a cell, beaten to a pulp, with no hope for help this time.
I love the idea that Gabriel is one of the few beings in existence capable of understanding the scale of Sam's torture in the Cage. Sam's trauma might make him "out of reach" to ordinary people in some respects, but it also gives him an otherworldliness that puts him on more even footing with supernatural beings like Gabriel.
i know people are good because of this: the universe often assigns me side quests. in a circular strangeness; despite my inability to locate my-own-anything, i am almost-always finding someone else's lost things. dogs, coats, phones, cash, laptops. it happens so often it's almost tiring; suddenly being looped into a tiny amount of detective work.
but when i'm with other people who are not used to this: the response is almost invariably delight. yes, maybe they are simply thrilled by the mystery. it's just... they light up so much. i think maybe more... i think they like the opportunity to do something kind.
a few weeks ago, i was at a bar and i found a wallet as soon as we stepped outside. i felt nervous to ask for help, worried i would be holding up the night. i picked it up and said go on without me, i should help this get back to its home.
instead, three people pulled out their phones - to find him on facebook, to help cancel his credit cards. two people went back into the bar to tell the bartender, two others went calling down the street. group texts, facebook posts, instagram stories. people, without even seeing what happened, start offering help to me. fifteen minutes and: someone knows someone who knows the guy. the cheer that went up - just for finding him, just for this small thing. someone gets him on the phone. strangers dance around me, hopping on their feet - are you the girl that found that wallet? good for you, that's a good thing you're doing/same thing happened to me and somebody did what you're doing and i thank god everyday for people like you/i can't believe you found him so fast this is so exciting
i gave it back to him in a parking lot. i watched his shoulders sag with relief. there was cash in it still - he checked the pocket, and then sheepishly held the money out to me. i didn't take it. i held up my hands. "it's no problem, man. i know you'd do the same for me."
i don't know him, to be honest. i don't know if he is the same kind of person i am. but he nodded at me.
and i know people are good. i know people are good, because the way this story ends isn't surprising. we wave goodbye awkwardly. my friend loops their arm around me.
"i can't believe we got it back to him," they said. "i'm going to be riding that high for weeks."
sorry i'm thinking abt megumi's incessant desire to be the first to die vs. the narrative keeping him alive despite and how the most tragic ending for him is not actually dying, but being left behind. for megumi, the worst fate is living a long life
...and also the only time that Solas of all people, is completely speechless, for once at a loss for words in response to an irrefutable argument.
Throughout the whole game (with a few exceptions in which he actually admits to having misjudged), whenever you get the chance to debate him on something you do not agree on, Solas, Mr “I’m a trillion years old, you know nothing, so listen carefully” will practically verbally jiu-jitsu you for every possible argument you might have, like, he’s an absolute master at playing Ace Attorney refuting any of your points, much like playing mind chess with Iron Bull, there is no chance to win an argument with Solas if he’s determined to have you recognize the flaw in your logic or at least understand his perspective, making you feel like this gif at the end of every debate.
But when Lavellan says “I would have had you trust me”, finally, there is no counter argument, no clever comeback, no objection... He has nothing. Because Lavellan is right and he knows. There’s just silence until he turns around and continues with the rest of the dialogue. And I think it’s interesting how this is kinda the culmination of all the little hints throughout the whole game at his ingrained distrust, leading up to this moment.
“An enemy can attack you, but only an ally can betray you. Betrayal is always worse.”
"The next time you have to mourn, you don't need to be alone."
“It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”
“That’s when you should lean on your friends.”
“Apologies, Inquisitor. I have learned not to do that.”
“I’ll rely on those I trust.”
"You think to share your power, to avoid the temptation to misuse it. A noble sentiment... but, ultimately, a mistake." (...) "Because while one selfless man may walk away from the lure of power's corruption... no group has ever done so."
“You created a powerful organization, and now it suffers the inevitable fate of such. Betrayal and corruption.”
"I trust my friends."
"I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory."
“She was betrayed as I was betrayed. As the world was betrayed!” - Flemeth about Mythal
You get the sense that him witnessing Mythal being betrayed and murdered by the Evanuris was probably the catalyst for his immense trust issues, so much so that it still has that big of an impact on him centuries later. And of course it has, when 1) it was this batrayal and power corruption that set everything in motion, it almost lead to the end of the entire world, which in turn lead to the creation of the Veil and finally the loss of his world and his people, 2) he has spent the last 1000 years walking the Fade, having to look at the ever present Black City in its center - their prison - as a constant reminder of what happened. (I know it’s not confirmed yet, but come on! 😂)
And then there is Lavellan (or any high approval Inquisitor for that matter) at the end of all this. Who proved him wrong with every action throughout DAI. Who has shown wisdom in their decisions and that the power they were given mustn’t corrupt them. That there is no reason for him not to trust them. And yet, he simply can’t, because the past still haunts him and centuries of history have taught him otherwise (and like a bunch of other reasons for him to not tell Lavellan the truth in that moment in Crestwood, but that’s beside the point here lol).
And then at the end of Trespasser, Lavellan finally throws it straight to his face, and while he could pull any of the excuses listed above, he simply can’t refute them anymore. Look at his expression as he just looks at them in response, at first still frowning for a second, as if he’s still about to argue them again, but then suddenly shifting into sorrow, slightly shaking his head in defeat. “I got nothing.” Solas, who easily managed to own you in any debate prior to this, is all out of arguments. It’s the final argument and the Inquisitor won.
(Well, technically, it even happens twice in this final conversation, if we’re counting Solas’ internal debate with himself. lol)
"We aren't even people to you."
"Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong."
But going back to his distrust, it surely can’t be a coincidence that this whole issue was also topic in a recent interview with DA4′s Creative Director, talking about what defines a hero.
I’ve talked about this numerous times now, like here, here or here, but what it all comes down to is basically just one more penny for the “Solas needs to learn how to trust again in order to be saved from himself” jar. lol
“We will save our friend from himself… if we can.”
Like. It’s literally his name. Pride. Saving Solas from himself does quite literally mean to strip him off his name and the belief that, to quote John Epler again, “only he has the answers, that he is the only one who can solve this” and to accept the help of others. Which is why he has to get a new name by the end of all this. I’m dying on that hill. 😂