susan queen

Arrow 5x14 “The Sin-Eater”: Everyone Makes a Choice

Note: This review was ready to go Thursday; all I had to do was type it up and format it after work. But after asking, I decided to vote Thursday afternoon—since I couldn’t do both. Then the poll reopened on Friday and there went my plans to type this up again. Unfortunately we still lost. Good job to all those who voted. That’s why this isn’t as timely as my last few have been, even if it’s been written out since Thursday morning. Oops. Oh well. Sometimes a fangirl has vote, you know? ;)  


Arrow is testing my patience. I am convinced that I am being tried so that I can enjoy all the wonderful spoils of heaven. Maybe a position of sainthood up there. I didn’t really think they’d have such a bad episode after last week’s really awful episode. I apparently need to adjust my expectations down, again.  

What’s incredibly frustrating about this is that this didn’t have to be a bad episode. We had a Thea and Felicity team up (the only good thing about this episode); we had the possibility of a good storyline with three female villains; and very importantly, this episode focused on the core of Arrow and didn’t belabor us with a ton of Recruit scenes. They existed in the periphery—where they belong. Though they could maybe hug the edges a lot closer. I’m just sayin’.

All of that sounds like a mixture for success, yes? But then let me remind you what we all forgot when we read the episode recipe: It was left in the hands of Arrow writers to cook up and s5 has been one disastrous course after another.

The problem is that the villainesses’ storyline was under baked (okay, enough of the cooking metaphor) and just really sloppy. The villainesses ran around Star City killing various people and it was all to get the money Church had hidden. That they needed to be shown where it was. So question: Why didn’t the remaining criminals just go and take the money instead of letting it collect dust in a mausoleum? Something about that felt like a plot hole. In general, their stunts felt sloppy. It was just a real miss for a villain of the week storyline.

Except that Arrow had another villain in the works this week and boy did she get her comeuppance. And the story surrounding her was the biggest disaster of all this week.

Originally posted by sourpatch-k

THE SUSAN WILLIAMS DEBACLE

I hate this character. Take away that she is a useless love interest for Oliver in an attempt to keep Olicity apart for a little longer: She is still simply awful. I haven’t liked her from the beginning and nothing at all about Carly Pope’s portrayal makes it any better. To call her one-note is frankly kind; everything about her performance is irritating. I have had the (dis)pleasure of viewing her elsewhere. Let’s just say she is not a versatile actress at all. All her characters feel the same except for a possible wardrobe change and name change.

That said, my absolute favorite part of this episode was Susan Williams being taken down by my two faves Felicity and Thea.

Originally posted by gurl

 I felt zero amount of sympathy for her. I felt all the amounts of glee and maybe wiggled in my chair with delight. Now I know that after the episode aired this storyline made some male pseudo-journalists all butthurt. I would kindly ask them to STFU and go away with their pseudo-feminism and pseudo-journalistic ethics.

Keep reading

2

Reason Why Marceline is WLW #1/?: Goes from being grumpy, tired, and antisocial to immediately perking up when she sees Susan coming in from off screen, greets Susan in a flirtatious voice (specifically says “Good morning!” after just complaining about being up too long and having to see it), smiles at Susan and doesn’t take her eyes off her, even as Susan fails to regard her + walks away.

Ok but I’ve been binge watching the Narnia movies again, after not having seen them for a long ass time, and now, being a little older and (hopefully) a little more mature than I was when I first saw them, I always feel physically sick when I see the Pevensies being children after The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe because they just aren’t anymore and I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like, to grow up as kings and queens, respected and important, and full of duty, only to go back to being 8 years old (in Lucy’s case).

They didn’t remember England, or the wardrobe, or their old lives, they were Narnians and they were pushed back, not only into a world that was bound to make them miserable, but also into bodies that couldn’t reflect what they’d been through.

Just imagine Peter, waking up in the morning, not remembering that he isn’t the Magnificent anymore, imagine him subconsciously reaching for something to trim his beard, only to remember that it isn’t there anymore, to expect old battle wounds to hurt until he realises that they can’t because he doesn’t have them.

Or Edmund, who left England a stubborn selfish little boy who only wanted his mummy back, and came back the Just, the redeemed traitor, the diplomat, the man, having to resort to being ten years old and probably not even allowed to peek at a newspaper because he’s just a child after all. He plays chess, incredibly well, he doesn’t mock his siblings anymore and all the friends he knew when he was still a boy are either irritated at his behaviour or too childish, too selfish for somebody who knows very well just what selfishness can do, who has a part of the White Witch in him, always.

Susan forgets, we all know that. She must’ve lain awake at night, remembering just what it felt like to cover pain and viciousness and gore with a smile and a blush, remembering being the Gentle, but never in war. She must’ve cried for all the lost years, for all that she learnt and that she can never forget, for all that she has accomplished, that will bring her nothing in this world that doesn’t feel like hers. So she sits down in front of a mirror, talks herself out of believing, telling herself that it wasn’t real, that it was just a dream, that this Narnia her siblings talk about is nothing but a game.
The truth is too terrifying, to devastating to face.

Lucy, little Lucy, who grew up under Mr Tumnus’ smiles and Aslan’s approving gaze, who was loved by all, who did learn how to rule, how to negotiate but who never forgot just what it means to be a queen of Narnia, this girl who matured into a woman, who had a woman’s mind and body and a queen’s grace, she who they called the Valiant, the lion’s daughter, she shrank into herself, into a child, younger than even her siblings. She remembers, clearest of them all, she is the only one who still knows Mr Tumnus’ face, still knows Aslan, but she is just a girl, a pretty little thing who will never be the queen she was, who will never be the woman she was because queenship forms a person in ways no schools can.

They must’ve been devastated when they tumbled to the floor, short and small, and there’s a war they have no control over and Lucy is small, Edmund is skinny, so skinny and Peter and Susan have lost their glow and they’ve changed, they’ve changed so much. (The first time, somebody calls them by just their names, they feel invalidated and small. And offended. They’re kings and queens, they’ve earned their titles and now they have to sit in a dim room filled with children and listen to teachers, have to allow themselves to be insignificant and nothing more than what they were when Lucy first stepped into Narnia - frightened children in the middle of a war they wish was never there in the first place)

I always kind of laugh when people get into the “Susan’s treatment is proof that C.S. Lewis was a misogynist” thing, because:

Polly and Digory. Peter and Susan. Edmund and Lucy. Eustace and Jill. 

Out of the eight “Friends of Narnia” who enter from our world, the male-to-female character ratio is exactly 1/1. Not one of these female characters serves as a love interest at any time. 

The Horse and His Boy, the only book set entirely in Narnia, maintains this ratio with Shasta and Aravis, who, we are told in a postscript, eventually marry. Yet even here, the story itself is concerned only with the friendship between them. Lewis focuses on Aravis’ value as a brave friend and a worthy ally rather than as a potential girlfriend–and ultimately, we realize that it’s these qualities that make her a good companion for Shasta. They are worthy of each other, equals. 

In the 1950s, there was no particularly loud cry for female representation in children’s literature. As far as pure plot goes, there’s no pressing need for all these girls. A little boy could have opened the wardrobe (and in the fragmentary initial draft, did). Given that we already know Eustace well by The Silver Chair, it would not seem strictly necessary for a patently ordinary schoolgirl to follow him on his return trip to Narnia, yet follow she does–and her role in the story is pivotal. Why does the humble cab-driver whom Aslan crowns the first King of Narnia immediately ask for his equally humble wife, who is promptly spirited over, her hands full of washing, and crowned queen by his side? Well, because nothing could be more natural than to have her there. 

None of these women are here to fill a quota. They’re here because Lewis wanted them there. 

Show me the contemporary fantasy series with this level of equality. It doesn’t exist. 

8

Narnia in color. Kings & Queens of the Golden Age. 

It’s 1952 in Oxford University, and Susan Pevensie is leaving the Lady Margaret Hall library for the last time.

Her classmates will be sorry to see her go - ask any of them “Who’s the young woman with dark hair and a blue coat?” and they’ll say “what, you don’t know Susan Pevensie? You must be new.”

But most of her friends don’t actually know that much about her. They’ll agree that she’s compassionate and charismatic, “and brighter than you’d think she’d have a right to be, with looks like hers - how come she gets beauty and brains?” but nobody knows anything about her childhood. Or her family.

“She’s lost someone,” says a first-year student with a permanent air of exam-induced panic, “she came here on an inheritance from somebody, and I’ll bet anything it’s her parents because she never talks about them, but we’ve all lost someone, you know? From the war or not, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s going to make her talk.” 

She’s graduating head of her class with a degree in Politics, Philosophy, and Economics; she wants to change the world, but really who expects her to do that? There’s a Queen on the throne and a dozen-odd women in Parliament, and many think that’s enough. She’ll make the perfect wife for some politician or businessman, at least while she’s young and pretty enough to be seen and not heard.

The shadows are chilly and long this time of year, so she almost misses the older woman leaving the Principal’s office, but the other woman steps directly into her path.

“Hello, Miss Pevensie,” she says. “I’m Agent Peggy Carter. How would you feel about a job in America?”

4

Narnia in Color: Latinx actors as The Pevensies

aka my faves as my faves

Jorge Blanco as Peter Pevensie

Eiza Gonzales as Susan Pevensie

Agustín Bernasconi as Edmund Pevensie

Karol Sevilla as Lucy Pevensie