After a rough year of health, my grandpa departed from this plane about 28 hours ago. I’m treating myself kindly, but my heart has a noticeable absence inside.

He was a guy who always, always did everything for everyone – if you need your deck restained? Done. Need a new shower? Give him like a week and it’s there. Want a new window? Yeah dude he had it done in a day or two. Like. A tree fell through this man’s ceiling and he had it tidied up, with assistance, in a week. When my mom needed a ramp for her wheelchair in her final months, he had it made in a few days. He got shit done, always with others in mind.

He was also secretive with a lot of things; we knew he was declining over the past year just by looking at him, his tremors, a noticeable decrease in blood flow. But he was still doing jobs and painting houses. He was just that kind of guy and I respected it heavily. I envy it still. Everything he labored was with love and care that you could not find from anyone else. He amazed me.

He was preceded in death by the love of his life, we’ll call him Dean. I never met Dean – he passed a little before the turn of the century, so I only know him in stories. They helped raise my mother together – her mom wasn’t in the picture for much of her adolescence, but those two were. My mom only ever spoke in adoration of them. Things weren’t stable and they moved a lot, but they had love – and they always had her. I knew he did experience a few hate crimes, around the 60s or 70s, which breaks my heart. I never brought up his sexuality with him – mainly because it wasn’t my business, and I felt no need to prod at him about this open familial secret – but I wish he could have lived in the time that I do right now. Even with all its trials and tribulations. Despite all that… he had many admirers. Male and female. A real ladykiller. That did come with some stalking… he had a man who was highly interested in him try to sneak in through the dog door in his house. 🫣 even still, I can see where they’re coming from… he was a stud!

Speaking on my mother, my grandpa would move mountains for her. When we would go on our little beach excursion every year, he would go to our house and always fix something up or add some new fixture. I remember him totally redoing our kitchen, our bathroom, our dingy little porch in the back… we would be gone for a week max, so he would check on our animals and workshop. He still did this even in a damn recession. No cost, no questions, just love.

And the animals he had! He grew up on a farm with a slew of sisters and a few brothers, and he just always had something. He had these gorgeous salukis with my mom when she was growing up, and once he got his own house, he would always have his own dog and a crowd of stray cats that he would inevitably befriend. He even rescued a baby squirrel and raised it before trying to send it back into the wild – I think it stuck around in his backyard for the most part, still visiting him and climbing on his his shoulders. The animal who held his heart the most was Sam, a golden retriever my mom picked out herself and gifted him. He lived to about 8 or 9, but that was his soul animal.

Following Dean, the other loss that changed him was my mom. It’s almost been half a decade since she left, and I knew that broke him. His only daughter gone before 50 – what do you do? I don’t know. But he still kept my sister and I in mind, always, making sure we were set. He left us a house – the same house we all grew up in, with decades of work inside. All for my sibling and I to live comfortably. A house with the most beautiful backyard full of elephant ears, hydrangeas, tulips, pea pods. A backyard that I spent hours running around in, with a shed that’s got tools for days and a fully working kitchen. Somehow.

I don’t know where I’m really going with this. The fact that he spent so many of his final years making sure our family would be okay, to set up this level of comfort for us – I have been musing over it constantly these past few days.

Something I loved about him was how comfortable with silence he was. I would walk with him and his dog in the neighborhood as a child, rattling off sentences constantly, and he just nodded and listened. As I got older, I became quieter for a multitude of reasons. I remember just sitting in the yard while he did his work, never feeling pressure to talk – we didn’t need to. Taking in nature instead of forcing small talk. I never thought that I would miss not saying anything with him, because there’s so much I wish I could have asked him, even still. Though I regret not opening up more, I still look upon the quiet fondly. He appreciated it, and I appreciated him for it.

I’m going to miss him a lot. Understatement. Getting older has been very hard on me and I’m not even at a quarter of a century yet, lol. My heart is sore but I am eternally grateful for what he’s taught me and what he has left for our family to continue on with.

I will close this jumble of words with my favorite story about him. One day, circa early 70s, my grandpa calls out of work and tells his boss he’s sick. Really, he just wanted to take his daughter to the park with her mother/his spouse at the time. Conveniently, someone with the local paper is there and snaps a quick pic of the group after a brief chat.

The next day, he’s reading the paper, checking the weather for the week… and then he sees it:

I don’t know if his boss found out or if there were repercussions, but it’s still my favorite thing to recount. It’s just such a thing he would absolutely do. I love it.

No amount of words could properly sum up who he was, truthfully. He was one in a trillion, and I am grateful that I had the honor of being part of his time on Earth. I had a less-than-stellar childhood and upbringing at times, but he was always a safe space for me. It’s a high honor to be a man in my life with little flaw – he is one of the few I can bestow that upon. I can’t exaggerate just how much of a beacon of light he was in our lives.

I’m grateful that I was able to hold his hand as he transitioned, becoming free of the ailments that tried to rescind his independence. I will never know what waits for us after life, but I’d like to think that he is in some sort of heaven – adding a fresh coat of paint onto the pearly gates, dozens of animals and people eagerly awaiting his arrival. I know he’s back with the loves of his life, the ones he longed for from the moment they departed; his daughter, his Dean, and his Sam-bone. How beautiful and deserved that is for him, my Papa, to be free of decades-long grief. ❤️

Wicked

By Gregory Maguire

Hello again! This is going to cover the college years of Elphaba, her meeting Galinda and the insanity that ensures during her time at Shiz. Oh my God, this is a lot. There is so much to discuss in this part of the book. It feels like so much happens in this chapter and at the same time absolutely nothing at all. I’m trying really hard not to just summarize the whole thing so please bear with me. (I pretty much summarize the whole thing 😅)

⚠️Warning! Spoilers for the book and it’s musical counterpart! ⚠️

⚠️Content Warning! This story contains explicit language, mild violence, and racial issues! Read at your own risk!⚠️

Gillikin part 1

This chapter covers a lot of stuff in the span of 146 pages. I gonna try to skip the stuff I don’t have a whole lot to talk about. This chapter skips directly to Ms. Galinda on her way to Shiz University, which in the book is an all-girls school. On the train, she meets Dr. Dillamond, the Goat professor (love him). During this time we’ve learned The Wizard of Oz came to power via hostile takeover, and is rolling back the rights of Animals. Animals with a capital A refers to Animals with souls, and the ability to speak. Galinda is incredibly bitchy to the Doctor, strictly because he’s a Goat. Galinda is a shallow, classist, naïve girl that has no concern or care for anything outside of herself. No surprise there. She gets saddled with Elphaba as her roommate because her chaperone (named Ama Clutch) was late and couldn’t vouch for her. There is continued discussion of the rights of Animals and all. We are introduced to Boq, who is smitten with Glinda and attempts to get close to her with the aid of Elphaba (who finds the whole thing absolutely hilarious).

In comparison to the musical, Boq and Elphaba strike up this very interesting friendship. During the summer months the two build an unlikely friendship (along with a gay couple that I desperately want to see in the movie, but know I probably won’t) as they attempt to help Dr. Dillamond provide validity to his existence. Boq works in a library that is barred to Animals and women alike. Galinda goes to a summer lake house one of her friends own.

Moving on from the summer, Elphaba and Galinda are roomies again and for the start of their Sophomore year. Then, the worst, most terrible thing you could ever think of happens.

DOCTOR DILLAMOND IS MURDERED!!

I wanted to scream so bad when I read this scene. All the poor Goat wanted was rights and he was murdered! The murder is so gruesome and bloody! Like no one is gonna believe this is anything other than murder. And it gets worse! Ama Clutch saw the murder from Galinda’s and Elphaba’s room! The head mistress (Madam Morrible or Horrible Morrible which I agree with very much) had her servant do it! This bitch made Ama Clutch go insane to cover up the murder!

With their chaperone out of commission, Horrible Morrible has Elphaba’s old nanny (conveniently named Nanny) come up to Shiz to take over as chaperone to the two girls. She of course has to being Nessarose with her as she is responsible for her. The thing about Nessarose is, she doesn’t have arms. She was born without arms, and struggles with balance and in turn walking. More can probably be said about this but I’m not exactly the person for that. Nessarose is much like her father, very religious. She is also the father’s favorite, so she’s very spoiled. Which honestly breaks the middle child stereotype (yes, they also have a younger brother named Shell, but he’s not important). Nessarose is described as stunningly beautiful, with her only flaw being said lack of arms.

Without a professor for the girl’s college, they connect the boys and girls college, letting them take classes together. This is where we are introduced to Fiyero.

Now Book Fiyero and Musical Fiyero are incredibly different. For starters, book Fiyero is explicitly a POC, and it is integral to his back story. Before I say anymore, I feel I must preface this with the fact that I’m very white, so I will not analyze these parts of his character as I am not equipped to do so. I ask any POC that feel comfortable in giving their insight on the character please do so. I’m gonna go through really quick and give all the information about Fiyero that is in the book but completely written out of the musical. I also should mention at lot of this reeks of “written by a white guy in the 90’s” so please approach this with caution.

Book Fiyero:

is married at the age of seven (he does reassure us that he hasn’t done the “mariatal duties”)

is often described as Ochre-skinned

has blue diamond tattoos all over his face and body

he is the crown prince of his tribe during his entrance

his clothes are described as strange and all other characters act like they’ve never seen a POC before.

Right now, Fiyero is a little more of a background character at this moment. He comes into class late and is attacked by a pair of sentient antlers (which my favorite gay couple saves him from). A side character, yet for some reason still friend to the rest of the main characters (named Alvaric) makes blatantly racist comments about Fiyero. Elphaba comes to his defense and that’s kinda it for now.

Now this class they share is run by a professor Nikidik, and this man is a menace to society (and not in a good way). This man kidnaps an orphaned baby lion, who is too young to speak, if it can. He plans to hit this baby lion with a mallet to see if it can feel pain (like what?!). Everyone freaks out (and rightfully so), and two girl students grab the lion off the table and run out of the classroom with the baby in their arms! (The cat distribution system at work!) And this man is so confused why they’re so upset. I imagine this professor’s face to be very punch-able.

Final thoughts

I didn’t know where to put this in the overall review, but Imma tag it on at the end here. Just like in the musical I think Galinda changing her name after the death of Dr. Dillamond to be pretty shallow. I understand what the attempt was here, and it definitely comes off better here than in the musical. Glinda sees that she was a really shallow person and begins to understand the world outside of her own head and the privileges she comes from. It just feels like she flipped a switch instead of ever having any kind of character growth that the readers can see. What might’ve fixed this would be instead of Galinda spending her entire summer break with her snobbish friends, she goes back to the school early and helps Boq and Elphaba with their research. This would give Galinda the opportunity to experience more in the injustices of Animals. I can just see her asking “why can’t women go to the library? Not like I’d want to of course, but just the principle?” during one of the meet ups.

I don’t know if it’s just me but there are things about the way Elphaba is written that I read as autism-coded. I don’t know if anyone else had that reading, if you did, I would love to compare notes on the subject!

Overall this chapter really packed a punch with its content. I hope to do a full character analysis when I’m done the book. If I skipped anything you wanted me to talk about please let me know. I admit I’m rather nervous to keep reading. Coming off of Good Omens, I had really not expected a deep dystopian conversation about rights and the injustices of the systems that revoke them.

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

Heyo!

So I've got this song that somehow summarizes pretty much parts of Apollo. 

Popstar by New Hollow

Mostly because of the lines:

'Well I'm Mr. Popstar.

Boy on the string

I lack inspiration

I dance and I sing

So here's for the ballads

And then there's these lines:

'So sing for the person that I'm trying to be. And scream for the manager I'm trying to please. Your attention, give me attention, I need attention.

And these lyrics at the end:

'Well I can't remember

(The last time that I've smiled)

If it wasn't for a camera

Well I'm Mr. Popstar'

And here is a mini me just pointing out these few lyrics.

The amount of times I wanted to send thing is so many but my anxiety is being an ass and I keep deleting it all. SO THIS TIME IM NOT EVEN GOING TO THINK WHEN I SEND THIS.

Hello Anon!

Ok so before I get into his, I just want to say that i am TERRIBLY sorry for answering this so late!!! I'm very slow at answering asks, so please forgive me for that <3

Now, to the song- ASJDFASDFJ THIS IS SO PERFECT AND GOOD OMG I LOVE IT WTF????? THE WHOLE SONG FITS APOLLO'S CHARACTER SO WELL??? THE VIBES TOO??? THE LYRICS??? AHHHH I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT 💚💚💚 (if I'm totally honest, a little reason why I took so long to answer this was because I kept jamming to the song sksksk)

AHHH I completely agree about those lyrics!!! They just- fit him so well???? ESPECCIALY the one at the end!!! askdfasdfa I love it so much <333

I can't remember (When I had a thought of my own) I can't remember (The day I sold my soul) So I'll do just what I'm told And I'll call it rock 'n' roll Well I can't remember

That wasn't for a camera

HFASDFJFJSADF THESE LINES AS WELL!!! IT'S PERFECT JUST- ABSOLUTELY PERFECT!!! The way that Apollo just plays the part that people (read: Zeus) wants him to play??? Absolutely beautiful, I won't ever get over this

So sing for the person that I'm trying to be And scream for the manager I'm trying to please Your attention Give me attention

I need attention

EXACTLY!!! Apollo tries so hard, and he has so much pain and guilt and heartbreak inside of him, but no one ever pays any heed to that, so he has to pretend he's okay and I just- asdjfkjsdhjf This conveys that SO WELL SJFHASDFFSD

Well I can't remember (The last time that I've smiled) If it wasn't for a camera

*breaks down completely* I canNOT TAKE THIS ANYMORE. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Also, this might be a bit of a far fetch, but I think that these lines could also fit?

I'm the end of the rockstar But everything dies Who needs musicians When I've got a Mac Featuring a rapper on every track

Well.... the 'But everything dies' part could quite easily be attributed to Daphne and Hyaci- *strangling sound*

As for the 'Who needs musicians / When I've got a Mac' part- I feel like it kinda does fit? Like, there's been multiple instances where Apollo feels like his spheres of influence are useless, and others can do it just as well as him. It also reminded me of this one part from this ToA fic that just- it works so well:

Anything I could do, someone else could also do. Healing? They had my son, Asclepius. Archery? My sister, Artemis. Music and poetry? The nine muses. The sun? They already had Hermes on that job. Sure, I could spread plague, but so could the Nosoi. I could be a deep thinker if I wanted to be, but so could Athena, and her ‘deep thoughts’ were usually to my father’s favour, unlike mine.

(From Chapter 2 of 'Trials of Apollo Oneshots')

And this feeling is also shown throughout the actual books as well!! Now I can't find all instances, but here's a few-

Who needed old gods? Who cared about Apollo? Caligula was much more interesting! He was better suited to this modern world. He fit. I did not. Why didn’t I just let go? Then I could be at peace.

(From Chapter 41 of The Burning Maze)

I was the worst of the gods, the most guilt-ridden and unfocused. I couldn’t commit myself to one lover. I couldn’t even choose what to be the god of. I kept shifting from one skill to another—distracted and dissatisfied.

(From Chapter 27 of The Hidden Oracle)

Granted, the first one is mostly due to Medea's chanting, and the second one was mostly about his heartbreak, but my point still (sorta) stands

All in all, I absolutely LOVE this anon, I am forever indebted to you for introducing me to this AWESOME song 💛💛💛💛💛

So this is going to be my attempt to summarize the newest episodes of the ghost marriage event (episode 1 to 13) of twisted wonderland. Part 2

Again, spoiler alert since I’m about to write out everything that happened, and I apologize for my grammar in advance.

The event started with Epel, Ace, Riddle, and Rook’s marriage proposal

In your dorm -> suddenly a lot of ghosts showed up and said this would be the guest room for the princess -> you got kicked out by them -> you went and ask Crowley what is going on -> Crowley explained -> that was the ghost bride, her dream was to find a wonderful prince to marry, but she died before able to fulfill the dream, so now she wonders around twisted wonderland to find her groom, but that would be impossible -> Crowley “since her perfect prince needs to be over 180cm (5ft9) tall, a slim body without any unnecessary fat, clean and beautiful skin, charming smile, shinnying hair, and lips that make you want to kiss them.” -> Crowley “so there’s no way that anyone could fit that description, they just stay in ramshackle for a few days then leave.” -> suddenly Ortho showed up and said his brother is taken away by the ghosts -> Ortho showed you a footage from the security camera

Idia was on his way to buy manga -> the ghost princess showed up and said “I’ve finally found him… my prince!!!” -> the video cuts out -> Grim was surprised since Idia doesn’t feel like a prince at all -> Crowley “tall, slim, pale skin, and a smile… that can’t really be called charming, shinning… more like burning hairs, and his colored lips. If you think of it, he does fit the ghost’s type.” -> there was suddenly a lot of noises outside -> Ace and Deuce was there -> a bunch of ghosts showed up in cafeteria -> you all retreated to the sports field -> Riddle, Azul, and Kalim were also there -> they were studying but the ghost suddenly showed up -> Azul “Kalim, the correct term would be we were ‘teaching’ you right?” -> Riddle “just a little more and Kalim could finally understand the question…!” -> Vil, Rook, and Epel were in the classroom and the ghosts showed up and kicked them out -> Cater was also kicked out of lab room -> Leona was kicked out from hallway -> Ortho explained what happened to all of them -> everyone laughed -> Crowley “It’s no time to laugh! Do you know what it means to be married to a ghost? It means to be together forever with the dead. You will have your soul pulled out and goes to the other world!” -> Ortho “my… my big brother is going to be a ghost? I don’t want that to happen! Please, help my brother!” -> Crowley “of course, I’m sure when their friend is in trouble, all the gentle students here will help Shroud…”

 -> everyone “nope/don’t wanna.” -> (player choice: “what a wonderful harmony” / “you guys only get along with each other in a time like this.”) -> Ortho “why? Everyone lends me your strength!” -> Vil “He normally avoids us as much as possible, and only bother us in a time like this. It’s a little too much.” -> Leona “it’s your own ‘brother’ problem right, just do something yourself.” -> Ortho decided to just do it himself -> he started computer simulation and decided to just use a magic beam to destroy the whole school -> Crowley stopped Ortho and explained to everyone that mass media will soon be on their ass if Shroud disappeared -> Ortho also threatened that if nobody helped, he is going to hack the TV station to remove the mosaic on news and put on “the student that abandoned their friend” instead -> finally everyone agreed to help -> Lilia suggest to ask Sam boy since he knows a lot about the ghost -> Sam said he heard about this from his friends on the other side -> Ortho “is there any item that we can use to solve this…” -> “IN STOCK NOW” -> the ring of extinction -> it can force the ghost to the other world if you put it on her left ring finger while saying “I swear to love you for as long as you are alive.” -> Lilia “so basically, I don’t care if you are dead.” -> but how can we put it on her? -> the only way to do it is to propose her -> Crowley told you to gather all the students he called -> it was Trey, Jack, Jade, Floyd, Leona, Vil, and Sebek -> the plan is to make them propose to the ghost princess -> Riddle “wait a second, I can’t just watch my vice dorm leader do this, I will go too.” -> Crowley “you can’t.” -> Riddle “eh?” ->Crowley “there’s a common trait between all 7 of them, which is... over 180cm in height!!!!!!” -> Riddle “are you saying… that I’m short….!?” ->  Floyd “it’s fine, goldfish is fine as you are now… wait? Where’s little goldfish? Is he gone?” -> Riddle “ha? What do you mean, floy…” -> Floyd “…ah, there you are, you are so tiny that I couldn’t see you down there.”

Vil “why isn’t Malleus here? Isn’t he pretty tall?” -> Lilia “Malleus is a real prince, if he proposes there is a high chance to success, but even if it’s fake, there’s no way a future king of thorn valley will propose to a ghost, just the fact that he proposed would cause a national problem, so just let it slide and let Sebek do it instead.” -> Leona “hum, saying something so grand, we still don’t know if Malleus would be picked or not.” -> Sebek “Malleus sama is a very handsome man, of course, he will be chosen as the groom! You guys won’t even stand a chance!!!!!!!”  -> Vil and Leona are pretty mad after hearing that and are now determined to do this.

In cafeteria -> Idia is trying his best to scream for help and refuse to marry the princess -> but she won’t listen -> a ghost said 7 people are here to propose to her -> but she said she will refuse them all so Idia can just rest assure here -> Vil started to use his actor skill to act like a prince (change his pronoun from atashi to boku and his way of talking) -> Jack “Vil senpai… can you just lie to someone like that? I think love is supposed to be… more serious. I just, don’t like this con man act…!” -> Vil “too naïve, Jack kun.” -> Jack “Jack ‘kun’!?” -> Vil “this is a competition, to see who can charm the princess first.” -> Leona “disgusting, this is even worse than your normal self.” -> Vil “Leona kun… are you scared that you’ll lose to me?” -> Leona “… hey ghost! Bring the princess out!”

Everyone was brought to the princess -> princess complimented Idia and said how he is her perfect prince ->

Leona and Vil “I’m definitely better!” -> Jade “those two, completely forgot their goals.” -> princess decided to try and see if they will be her perfect prince -> princess “let’s start with you, the one with a wild style but a cute ear.” -> Leona “Me?” -> she suddenly started singing -> Leona got really confused

-> she slapped Leona -> princess “I can’t believe it…… To not sing a duet along with the princess!!!! You are not a prince at all!” -> Jack “Leona senpai… he was the only real prince among us though…” -> next is Vil, he passed the singing part perfectly, but then princess asked what is the name of his pet dog -> he doesn’t have one -> Vil got slapped too

next one up is Jack -> she asked if he knows sword art and how big of a monster have he slain -> Jack “sword? I don’t need something like that, I will use my fist…” -> SLAP

-> Sebek is next -> she asked if he knows how to play instruments -> Sebek started talking about Malleus nonstop -> SLAP

-> Trey is next -> She suddenly said “we can’t meet ever again, farewell!” and runs away -> Trey is confused but decided to chase after her -> She “ah, even though I told you we can’t ever meet again! Please, do not confuse me even more” -> Trey “ok it seems like the right choice to chase after her, but what should I do next…” -> Jade “Trey san, you should sing here!” -> Trey “sing!? Now!?” -> Jade “Yes, to create a romantic mood, you have to sing a wonderful song to make her heart melt.” -> Trey “I’m not really good at singing though…! umm…” -> Trey singing “emm, you… your… your veil…. Looks just like a bleached towel… eyes, also, looks like grapes… so juicy~~” -> her “…” -> Trey “…” -> SLAP

-> Jade “your comparison are a little too peasant, at least say something like your eyes are just like gem stones.” -> Trey “I’m just a high school student? I can’t come up anything like that in this situation!” -> Floyd next -> Floyd “this person just so annoying~~ can I squeeze her?” -> SLAP

-> Jade’s turn -> He offered her flowers -> Jade “I picked out those flowers myself, I thought you would look great with them.” -> Floyd pointed out those are flowers with strong poison -> Jade “yes, if you just touch them with your barehand, your hand would broke, but it seems like it don’t work with ghosts. I’ve learned.” -> SLAP ->

Trey “…hey, I just noticed something, to suddenly make someone lived in an all boy boarding school to propose to a princess… isn’t the difficulty a little too high?”

Everyone outside was laughing hard -> Azul, Cater, Deuce, and Lilia decided to help next -> SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP -> Azul talked too much which makes him unbelievable -> Cater treated everything too lightly -> Deuce got too nervous that he couldn’t talk -> Lilia -> Lilia was too cute that she doesn’t want him -> she complained that why is there no good man left in this world and brought Idia out -> Idia “none of you even had any use at all… everyone was slapped and rolling around like an insect… aren’t you supposed to be popular! You always hype around like an idiot, aren’t you embarrassed by this!?” -> everyone is pretty mad after hearing Idia say that -> but the princess was pretty happy so she decided to make the wedding tonight, midnight. -> Idia screamed for help -> Vil “Isn’t this great, someone picked introverted you as their partner.” -> Leona “yeah, now that I think of it you two are really fitting as a couple.” -> Idia “why--!?” -> Jack “of course, we will get mad after hearing what you said.” -> Idia “Azul!! We are friends of the board game club right?” -> Azul “to think that the hikikomori Idia would get married… I’m so touched I think I’m about to cry… congratulation. I will send you some wedding gift.”

Outside -> Ace was still laughing at what happened -> Crowley “it seems like the only thing we can do now is to find back up grooms!”

That was all for now, man this event is hilarious, especially the part where everyone got slapped, so sad that I couldn’t fit in everyone’s slapped face in here

Time travel AU (Part 2: Minato’s promise)

AU Summary: The world is falling apart, and the Sage of the Six Paths sends Naruto back in time to find his parents and collect the thing that will help him and Sasuke save the shinobi.

Link to part 1: HERE

Part 2 Summary: Naruto tells his parents why he’s come back in time, and asks them to help him save the world. Y/N notices there’s something off with everything that’s going on, but Minato steps up to keep his family safe.

Characters in part 2: Y/N (as Naruto’s mom/ Minato’s wife), Minato and Naruto

Warnings: None

A/N: This is for @itsao-mine, my amazing reader. I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, beautiful. Hopefully you’ll like reading it as much as I’ve loved writing it. I hope everyone else enjoys it too <3 Thank you for being so supportive of my writing.

Minato’s promise

Minato’s mouth dropped wide open. For a moment Y/N thought she imagined the whole thing, but she wiped her eyes and both Naruto and her husband were still in front of her. Minato’s initial shock had transformed into his signature smile.

The resemblance between the boy and him was uncanny. They had the same yellow hair and expressive blue eyes, as well as his easygoing manner. At the same time, he spoke in the same distracted but cheerful way Y/N did. He had the same expressions as her. There was no denying this was their child. But how was it possible?

As if reading his wife’s mind, Minato spoke.

“Naruto, this is very weird so you’d better have one hell of a good explanation on how the same baby she’s carrying is also sitting here all grown up, being a full fledged shinobi.”

Naruto’s stomach made a noise, revealing his hunger.

“We can talk about it over dinner, you both need food to restore yourselves, and so do I, remember I’m still eating for two.”

Y/N served three generous bowls of ramen and had her two ninjas take a seat at the table.

“Wow mom, you really do know how to cook. This is so tasty, maaan I love it. Did you know ramen is my favorite food? Have I mentioned it yet?”

“Well it’s also my favorite food. Don’t I cook it for you often? In the future I mean.”

“Ummm, not really” he laughs nervously “anyway, let me tell you what’s going on. It’s kinda messy really, and a hard story to tell, but I’ll try my best”

Naruto does try his best to summarize everything without getting much into detail, and his parents seem to catch on a bit. Naruto is surprised that they actually believe every word he says and seem keen on helping him, which is a relief, really, because he’d be lost without their support.

“So you’re telling us that in the future, 17 years from now, an evil princess who mysteriously fell from space ages ago comes back to life so she can plant a tree which enslaves all of humanity and feeds on their chakra and the only way to stop it is if you and Sasuke Uchiha, who just so happens to be the cute baby I saw a week ago in my friend Mikoto’s arms, seal her. For that you need to collect a special type of chakra from the Kyuubi because it’s exactly released at the time of your birth and a scroll from the Uchiha Clan which Sasuke is trying to find at this same time, and that’s why the Sage of the Six Paths gave Sasuke the power for one trip in time with his, what did you say it was called?” Says Y/N.

“Rinnesharingan”

“Right, rinnesharingan. So did I understand correctly?”

“Yes you have it all right. So will you let me attend my own birth so we can save everyone?”

“If it’s for the sake of the world I will, right, yondaime?”

“Of course, my love” says her husband.

“Thanks mom, you’re truly the best”

“Come here, let me hold you for a bit, you must be exhausted”

Naruto moves close to his mother, and she embraces him in a tender way he’s never felt before. She strokes his forehead and tries to reassure him that she and his father will help him through it all, but a deep fear settles in her heart.

After spending a few moments like this, and noticing her son is exhausted, she prepares the guest bedroom for him and carefully tucks him into bed.

Once Naruto has fallen asleep, Y/N settles in her couch with a cup of tea in her hands.

“Minato, I’m scared”

He sits on the couch next to her and starts massaging her tired shoulders. His hands are a balm on her fearful soul.

“It’s okay, I’m here for you. I’ll protect you three.”

“I’m worried, for the baby, and for Naruto. I know they’re the same person, but still I worry for them both.”

“I know honey, but think about it this way, if Naruto from the future showed up here, that means the baby will be alright” his warm voice tranquilizes her.

“Still, there’s something off with all this. I mean I do believe him, he’s our son, and I’m oddly happy to have met him. To know that this baby will become such a strong willed shinobi. He’s everything I’ve dreamed our son would be, but this feels weird. He didn’t know who I was. And he makes comments that make me think he hasn’t spent much time with us, Minato”

He knows. He noticed it too, but he didn’t want to say anything about it either.

“Hey, it’s alright.” He planted a kiss on her bare neck “Maybe he didn’t recognize you because you look different in the future. We’ll age, princess. As much as we hate to admit it.” He chuckles kindly, trying to brush off his own concern.

“Yeah I guess. He’s a distracted kid too. Guess whom he got that from?”

Minato laughs gently and encircles his wife’s waist so his hands reach her tummy.

“I’ll take care of my beautiful family. There’s nothing more precious than you. It’s a promise” They fall asleep on the couch, tangled in a loving embrace. Y/N knows her husband’s word is sacred, so she knows she’ll be okay, but there’s a part of her that still feels uneasy.

……

The next day they avoid talking about the topic, and instead, Naruto decides to enjoy the feeling of having his family together until his birth comes up. He helps Y/N do even the most basic tasks, and takes care of her protectively. Minato, Y/N and Naruto fall into a nice, familiar routine for the rest of the week, and Naruto even goes with Minato a couple times to the Hokage office and helps him sort through the day’s work.  Time flies by, and he wishes he could stay here longer, but before he knows it, the day before his birth arrives.

He’s alone with his dad in his office, they’re settling everything so they can return to their house where Y/N is waiting for them with a delicious dinner.

“Hey dad, can I talk to you before we go home? There’s something you need to know. I, uh, well I haven’t had the heart to say it in front of mom, but there’s a reason I didn’t recognize her when I came here.”

“We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

Naruto’s stomach shrinks as he wishes he had another answer to that question.

“Yeah”

“I’ve had the feeling, that something might go wrong. That’s why I’ve had Kakashi follow Y/N, taking care of her. The sandaime and I planned the birth, so she’ll be surrounded by security, but I guess there’s no way to avoid it right? I’m just very sorry we don’t get to watch you grow up. Y/N has been very excited since she found out, having a child has lifted her spirits so much.” There’s a deep sadness in his eyes, but he brushes it away, replacing it with a soft chuckle. “But, hey, let’s worry about death later. Now tell me, did you grow up happy? Were your needs covered? Did you have love surrounding you?”

Naruto was taken aback by his dad’s inquiry, he hadn’t expected that he’d care more about his wellbeing than the news he’d just given him. Warmth spread through his chest and a thought crossed his mind I couldn’t have asked for a better family.

“Yeah, you could say my life has been nice, dad. You and mom have nothing to worry about.” His cheeks felt a bit hot “I eat well and I have many friends.”

“Tell me about it kid, I want to hear everything. It seems this may be one of our few chances.” Minato reached out and ruffled his son’s hair.

“Well, where should I start? Oh! I know, this will make you happy. Kakashi is my Sensei. We’ve been on many adventures together. He’s the captain of my team. I’m there with my two best friends, Sakura and Sasuke. Well, things with Sasuke have been rough, and that’s maybe another topic, but he’s the first person who deeply, truly understood me, and I’ve never given up on him. I never will.”

On the way home, Naruto keeps telling him stories about how he grew up, and Minato enjoys every single one of them. When they get there, he acts as if nothing had happened, and Naruto knows, he’s trying to find a way to protect Y/N.

Bleeding Ink (Luke angst)

Summary: Luke’s songwriting takes a hit when he gets hurt. He thought emotions made a song better, but he got the proportions wrong. or “Maybe have a little song with those feelings”

Category: Angst 

Fandom: Julie and the Phantoms

Paring: N/A

Word Count: 1,559

Warnings/Includes: Like 1 swear, some mentions of an argument, and some descriptions of ~sadness~

A/N:  I hope you like this! I'm still very new at writing fanfiction so as always, constructive criticism and any feedback in general are much appreciated!! Hope you like it!! 

Mandatory Thanking of the Betas: Thank u for supporting me on this @theolivekiddo!! I probably wouldn’t have posted it if not for you because I have no confidence and I thought it was ~bad~ :P I’m still not so sure it’s good but u convinced me to post it so that’s something I guess

AO3 link here

Please don’t repost my work without my permission, in part or whole. My work can also be found on AO3 under the same username. Thank you!

Jatp taglist: @n0wornever, @calamitykaty, @unsaidmegan, @morganayennefertyrell, @link-102, @crybabyddl, @willex-owns-my-heart (I’m hoping it’s ok to tag y’all bc u said in a post here that you’d like to be added to taglists but I can take you off anytime, just send me an ask :))

Taglist for everything <3: @theolivekiddo

Bleeding Ink

Luke wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, but he’s not quite the carefree troublemaker people think. The band knew, of course. He never had to tell them, they just knew. Probably because they were his family, they knew pretty much everything about each other. And now Julie knows, too. That’s about everyone he can come up with, besides Willie and maybe Flynn, that he actually knows now, so it looks like his secret is safe. The issue is the carefree part. Because Luke may be a hell of a troublemaker but he cares a lot.

He cares about his family, even through their ups and downs. He cares about his friends, his band; they’re pretty much a family to him too. And he cares, so so much, about music. Music has been there his whole life. Mostly rock, his favorite, but he can appreciate pretty much any kind of music. He’s listened to music throughout his whole life. It made him feel better when he was sad, widened his grins when he was happy, and kept all the in-betweens interesting. 

He only loved music more when he started writing it. Luke started writing music late in middle school, but he would probably kill you if you knew. He always thought it was good he started early to get it all out of the way. It wasn’t really music yet, just putting down words without having anything to say. He still thinks they were less of lyrics and more like pages of word vomit. The old notebooks from that first year or so are probably still lying around somewhere, but Luke would rather look forward than back at all of that. He puts meaning into his music now, and Luke thinks it’s only ever gotten better, especially working with Julie. Except for a short period in the middle where it definitely got worse. 

The thing is, Luke puts emotion into every one of his songs. He thinks you can’t have truly good music without putting at least a little bit of heart in it; and Luke cares so much about all of his music he can’t honestly help it. Writing music has helped him understand his feelings, and it’s his biggest way of expressing them. Usually though, he doesn’t really need music as an outlet or anything. He loves playing the songs he’s worked on, all the emotions that go with them. The electric energy in Now or Never, the reassurance and connection in Bright, the determination and fearlessness in Stand Tall, all of his songs had pieces of himself in them. But he writes them because he wants to, not because he needs to get anything out. Most of the time, at least.

There was only really one instance in Luke’s life where that wasn’t the case. Where he was so overwhelmed with emotion that he had to get it out onto a page before he could move on. Dying and coming back as ghosts, making friends with the girl who brought you back and being able to play music again, only to find your only surviving bandmate stole your old songs, and the whole Caleb thing probably should have done it. The thing is, Luke (and Alex and Reggie) got put through that rollercoaster so fast that he could barely make out emotions from the jumbled blur, much less put them into music. Before he could even say “What the hell is going on here?!” Luke was writing new songs. For their new band with Julie, no less. And he had pretty much gotten past all that drama already, somehow. It probably had something to do with Julie. After all, “No music is worth making, Julie, if we’re not making it with you.”

The time that really got to Luke, was actually part of how he ended up playing up music anyhow. It all started when his mother got him a guitar for his birthday, happy to support his interest in music. Perhaps she didn’t understand quite how deep the interest ran, because she might never have gotten it if she had. He was immediately captivated by it, and within a week Luke had the basics pretty much down already. It didn’t take him long to get even better, and to decide to form a band with some friends. He went home that night, blood pumping fast with excitement, and told his mom the news. It didn’t go over quite as well as he thought.

His mother had already become a bit apprehensive about how much Luke had come to like the guitar, but she had decided not to say anything as she thought it was just a harmless hobby. But then Luke came home and told her he was in a band, and all the fears rushed to surface and spilled over. She never should have had that much of a reaction or been so harsh, but it was all because she cares about Luke. She is his mother after all. And he had already been falling a bit behind on schoolwork, spending all his free time working out new songs with his guitar. That would only get worse if he joined a band, not even considering his future and the bandmates he wanted to play with, and where they wanted to play music, and all sorts of other concerns that came out when Luke told her about the new band.

It really hit Luke hard that his mother was instantly full of criticisms. Couldn’t she just be happy for him? He came home all excited and she instantly twisted it into hurt and anger, which turned their discussion into more of a fight, or at least certainly didn’t help matters. He’s not quite sure anymore exactly what was said that night, but he got the memo- “You can’t ditch everything for a band when you live in this household” - so he lashed back with some venom of his own, and left. It didn’t even take a whole night for him to regret it. 

Biking away with basically only his guitar, the thing that mattered most to him but his mother hated most. Luke only took a good few minutes of furious pedaling to realize that he had no idea where he was going, and he was exhausted. All the fight drained out of him, all the adrenaline faded away, he was just hurt. No more energy to be angry, all the white noise of yelling in the argument cleared from his head, and he couldn’t believe his mother said all that to him. He was so excited to come home and tell his family about his new band, just earlier that evening. It already seemed like so long ago. He felt a little bad about the things he said back to his mom already too, but it was still very clear to him that they were in retaliation. If his mother hadn’t exploded at him for chasing his passion, it never would have happened. He ends up deciding to crash at the Molina’s place. After all Rose did say they could use the garage whenever they wanted. Luke was already almost drowning in this dread about everything that happened, and he was still too tired to really realize it. He just decided to knock out.

It hit him full force in the morning. Luke woke up in an unfamiliar room, confused for about half a second, before getting hit by a tidal wave of “oh, shit.” 

Fighting with his family is what really managed to upset him. Nothing in Luke’s life had ever hit him that hard before. That’s when his songwriting really hit a low point for a bit. He wrote Unsaid Emily once he had gotten himself together as a way to  conclude his feelings on the matter, and a way to say “I’m sorry” to his mom without actually saying it right to her. He wrote the song to summarize everything he had to say about what happened, but he tried to leave most of the emotion out of it. He learned his lesson about not putting his feelings about it all into song.

In the few weeks before that, his writing was closer to the state they were in middle school. Except this time instead of having nothing to say, he had too much he needed to get out, and he didn’t know how to make it into proper lyrics. He poured too much emotion into them. Instead of being a wave of energy over a crowd, they’d be more like a tsunami, too overpowering. Luke was just writing them for himself at that point, even the band wouldn’t see those songs, much less a stage. 

The one thing he could come up with to say on it, looking back, is that’s the thing about being hurt. You have too much to hold inside of you so you bleed your soul out onto paper in ink, but instead of making it beautiful, it just makes the pages dark. All the feelings are just as ugly when you put them down on paper, and once they’re no longer caught in your chest, you don’t want to have anything to do with them. But their ink still stains your hands, and you know they may be gone but you can never forget them. 

End A/N:  I wrote this all at like 3 AM so I wasn't really focused on the quality of the writing and more so the narrative, hope u don't mind that. It doesn't really?? Have a point?? I don't think I was going somewhere with it I just wanted to express my thought on how Luke would be doing. Let me know what you thought! If this wasn't written in the dead of night how could it have been better? What parts did you like about it? If you don’t want to give feedback, that’s fine. Just please reblog or maybe comment if you enjoyed it, don’t just leave a like. Thanks for reading!

Bestial Facts

Rating: E

Pairing: [Otsutsuki Indra / Haruno Sakura]

Tw: none!

Alpha/Omega Dynamics

And there he was, he had received her call, he had interpreted it perfectly, and now he decided to act. He could not ignore the deep feeling of solitude that hovered over the fragrance that Sakura detached especially towards his person, asking him not to refuse her one more minute of his attention. He felt like in his interior a beast was tearing his claws against its invisible cell, demanding to be liberated.

No, he would not let it win, he would not give in like before. His desires cried out lust, need, taking the Omega that now begged for his help, but he would not allow his nature to win another battle like days ago, when he accidentally hurt the woman he was now trying to protect with so much impetus. But what was he doing there if he wasn’t going to give her what she was asking for? Was he taking the trouble to disappoint her in person?

Sakura observed him with eyes full of sadness, lost in a fantasy that was near to be fulfilled, but at the same time very far. The internal battle of Indra took much more time of what he would never be able to recognize. He had hurt too many mates during his life as the founder of the Clan, gaining access to any Omega he wanted to possess. His primitive side was not rational, his Alpha was not someone who could be controlled, and whoever tried it ended up really injured. He didn’t want that same fate for the girl who looked at him with almost palpable despair.

If his demon was released, if his beast was allowed to walk freely again, he was not sure what would happen.

“Indra plea…”

“This is not going to work. I’m sorry I got you hoping for my presence, if that was the case. I advise you to ask someone else for assistance.” The last words were spoken as the entity walked down the hall, away from what had long been his room, leaving behind the woman who watched him from his bed, to return bitterly to his own.

He knew of the young woman’s vulnerability, that she would not be able to control herself. He needed to take care of her, he needed to protect her, to wrap her in eternally soft caresses that would provide the security that this moment she did not feel around her. But he was not the one. If he tried, his Alpha would get in the way.

Before he could advance further from the sliding door where he left the painful conversation, a hand grabbed him in an iron grip by his forearm, while a spleen slipped gracefully and gently from his stomach to his chest. He could feel a face buried in the hair that fell loose and wild on his back, in the absence of his frequent ponytail.

The embrace was not nearly strong enough to hold him actuality, but he allowed the gesture of love. They held the same position for what felt like long minutes, while the only thing Indra could focus on was the arm that held him and did not allow him to run away. He had never felt what a caress was, beyond those received familiarly by his brother and mother. His relationships had been based on concerns of mere satisfaction in the face of human, or rather animal, need. And since his mates always ended up badly hurt, no one wanted to see him again a second time. He did not blame them, he would have made the same decision to be them.

But there was the woman who radiated purity through her emerald eyes, begging him to take her. She probably didn’t know what she was getting into, didn’t understand the seriousness of the matter.

He didn’t come out of his presumptuous thoughts until he felt her flailing on his back, while her breathing became inconsistent, irregular. She was crying for him, for what he said, and she thought he was rejecting her.

He turned on his heels, undoing the support he had enjoyed so much moments before, to face the woman, whom he was gaining in height by two heads.

“…”

“No, Indra. You answered my call. You know I want this as much as you do! You felt it, you felt me, you can’t just come and act like nothing is happening.”

“I can’t hurt you, I don’t want to see you go through the hands of that beast and…”

“There is no beast here. I only see the Alpha I am choosing to take my first heat. You all see me as something inferior, that must stop. Give me a chance to show you that things are not as you think.”

The entity’s gaze was fixed on the floor, suddenly, admiring the polished wood that ran under his feet was a much more pleasant task. He was forced to relocate his vision to the pink-haired girl when her tiny hand took his and squeezed it lightly. His eyes were lost in the serenity of her soul, the light she radiated without even being aware of it. He could feel warmth growing in his chest, a feeling that took him back to his childhood. He recognized it, but found it hard to believe that he was experiencing it again.

It was happiness. Indra was happy once again, after an eternity.

When Sakura noticed the change of the man before her sight, she turned around and directed them both, taken by the hand, for the way that before they had traveled separately. When she found the room, she introduced him in it, and closed the door behind him. His Sharingan traveled quickly from her, then to the bed, finally to the floor. With a faint sigh that admitted defeat for his main objective, he tried to gather the strength he would need to fight the battle ahead.

“You can do this, Indra.”

“I will need your help. There is only one rule I need you to follow.”

Sakura looked at him with her arched eyebrows, curiously, interlacing her hands in front of her. She waited without hurrying him to continue, he had all the right of the world to take his time.

“If you need to stop, you should say "Indora”. My properly pronounced name holds back my Alpha.“

"Please just relax…”

“Promise me you’ll do it if you have to.” His crimson eyes were fixed on hers. In earnest, he let her know that until she took his one rule seriously, he would not proceed. The distance that he interposed between both was uncomfortable considering the facts that were about to happen, and Sakura wanted to eliminate it as soon as possible.

“I promise.”

It was the only thing needed to pounce on her and to begin to undertake the way of satisfying his hunger for her. Dammit, she was so beautiful. Even with trace of tears in her eyes, slightly red and swollen by the crying sessions that he calculated had also taken place previously, her face continued being dazzling. She was so innocent, so full of illusions and fantasies, and he was about to take a piece of that, one she wanted him to have. For once in his life he felt that maybe he deserved a moment of peace, love.

Love.

Quickly, he took her hands, which were intertwined in front of her, and with a great effort to outline mercy, he kissed her deeply, forcing her arms down to prevent her from falling backwards under his weight. He held her lips together until he felt the air run out of the young woman’s body, and only stepped aside to allow her a little recovery.

While Sakura inhaled agitated, Indra took her in his arms and manipulated her as if she was his prey. His hunt. He raised her as if she weighed what a leaf that fell on the ground after the autumn breeze, and with expert movements he indicated her how to place her legs around his waist. Quickly his hands took position under her bottom, giving her more support and comfort, while their mouths were desperately searching for each other. He walked up to one of the walls of the small room, and made her back impact with it. She took advantage of it and used it as an extra support, massaging Indra’s neck with her hands, scratching his skull whenever she felt the need to get more of the bond between their lips. He couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction when he felt the girl’s tongue look for a way into his mouth, and he parted to look at her.

Confused, afraid she had done something wrong, she questioned him without words. Her cheeks soon turned pink at the prolonged silence. Such a vulnerable Omega against such a hungry gaze.

“You’re mine.” The possessive and somber tone with which the man spoke made her skin bristle, there was no seduction in his voice. What he said was a fact. He was simply letting her know it. From the height difference, Indra’s eyes were even more intimidating than before. Sakura felt like a victim between the claws of a predator, one that had been waiting a long time for something to ingest.

But it was what she wanted.

“I am yours.”

Indra grunted before summarizing his act and taking her mouth with all the impact of his need. Their kiss was extremely wet, while their tongues danced in the rising fire of excitement. His hands left abruptly the texture of the dressed buttocks of Sakura, and they caught her ones with imposition, making her to stop playing with his hair. Taking her by the wrists, he placed her two arms against the wall, one at each side of her head. She was forced to perform more strength with her hip to stay in the air. She knew he wouldn’t let her fall, but that was his game, and she would follow him all the way.

He came even closer to her, closing completely the slightest distance between their bodies, and never stopped kissing her. Their torsos were connected, and he could feel Sakura’s breasts under her robe. He was desperate for her skin, to caress her until she smelled only like him, spreading his scent all over her body. He needed to touch her, he needed to see her, he needed her.

With a fast movement, he released one of Sakura’s wrists to undo the knot of her robe. Before the act, she let her arm fall to her side, allowing the blood to circulate and her sleeping limb to wake up. To her surprise, Indra seemed really annoyed with her daring. It had slowed down his notions, and he looked at her scolding, while his head lay tilted to the side.

“You move when I command it.”

“I’m so…”

The words did not find their end since the only thing she could do was moan before feeling the Alpha’s mouth on one of her nipples. At some point, and with the speed that characterized him, he had finished untying the knot and had discovered her body. Sakura did not have time to feel embarrassed, because the attention she now received felt too good to think about it.

While one of her breasts was explored by his warm tongue, the other one was massaged by a strong and big hand, which kneaded her skin as if he needed to remove it and get under it. The eventual suction on her hardened pink pearl caused her head to tilt backwards, looking for even more support on the wall to help her hold on high.

Sakura reveled a pure and unmarked neck, and Indra placed his hand on it, putting some pressure on her airways. She was a practitioner of Ninju, or Shinobi, as it was called nowadays, and a recognized doctor, she would know how to indicate whether he was suffocating her. He located moans stuck in her throat that were trying to depart, and he dedicated to bite the nipple to which only he had attended with his hand. Her breast was now as moist as her mouth. He slid his tongue from her chest to her collarbone, reaching slowly the joint between her ear and her head. He left a trail of hickeys and marks along the way, where he had stopped to pay special attention to his favorite areas. He nibbled on her earlobe and gently pulled on it, while she spread her hands through his hair and shoulders at a constant rhythm.

In a movement that Sakura did not expect, Indra pumped his waist towards her now exposed femininity, but to which he had not yet dedicated special attention. The nails of the young woman left marks in the exposed skin of his neck, and he knew he needed more of those. Suddenly, the gown that covered only him was already a nuisance. He placed one hand under her bottom, and the other on her lower back, and thus separated her firmly from the wall. Their foreheads were joined and their gazes were lost in each other’s eyes.

Indra walked to the foot of her bed, and threw the girl on top of it. It was a light touchdown that resulted in a beneficial landing, as he was delighted to see the Omega’s breasts bounce off the impact with the mattress. However, she was not very happy with the action.

“Indra that was it!”

“I’ll make it up to you. Take that off.”

If there was something that pleased her, it was that the man had abandoned all traces of formality. This was the raw version she longed to see in him. With glacial agility, she quickly stripped off her loose robe, receiving an Indra also naked who hovered over her.

They were united again in a passionate kiss, but considerably slower and more tangible. Sakura held her lover with a hand tangled in his wild hair, while with the other one she would travel his now exposed body. She enjoyed feeling every muscle tone against her touch, running over his shoulders, his arms, part of his back, his chest. She felt she could not get enough of that wonderful sculpture.

Indra pushed his boner against her entrance, playing with the friction and warmth of the moisture that began to cover his now exposed limb. With his elbows and forearms at the sides of her head, he prevented from putting all his weight on her, while he enjoyed how the Omega provided feeling caresses to his whole being.

“I need to taste what is mine.” He said in a hiss, clenching his teeth before the impotence that he felt for the lack of Sakura’s lips in his.

“Yes. Please.”

He descended softly and slowly, leaving a new humid way after his step. He had to make an enormous effort not to sink his teeth in her sweet point, so tempting and provocative. He just tasted, felt, enjoyed it, and continued down to her nipples. He made sure that they were both swollen and over-stimulated, that’s how he liked his Omegas to look. With his tongue he traced a wet route to her mount, where he finally smelled it.

He felt her true scent.

And then is when the self-control that Indra had been carrying exploded inside him.

“G-go get Mmadar-ra…” his voice was deeper and deeper, and he had sat on his knees in the bed, abruptly interrupting his activity. The hair covered his face, for what Sakura could not glimpse his countenance or distinguish why he said that ridiculousness suddenly.

“ What are you talk…”

“…He’s …coming…” He fell into his hands, exhaling and inhaling violently, while she curled up on the opposite side of the bed, seeking refuge among the sheets and pillows. Protecting her naked body would do little good.

“Who…?” She really wanted to know?

In his position, Indra’s body twisted abruptly, shaking with strange movements as a series of unexplained events unfolded before her eyes. Uncontrollable grunts escaped from his interior, unintelligible, guttural words were thrown into the air, as if trying to fight what was happening to him. His hair, if thought long in its natural state, took on a longer length, and the pattern of spikes that characterized Uchiha’s style became more pronounced, creating even more eccentric spikes than those he normally wore. On his nails, long claws grew. He could decapitate anyone he wanted with them. Heading to his mouth, two upper fangs made a surprising appearance as he opened it in a ceaseless frenzy. As for his eyes, his Sharingan took the pattern of his Eternal Mangekyou, while the outline he drew each day under them extended considerably, occupying his temples. His body, already naturally stocky, grew notably in size; his shoulders widened, his chest extended, his abdominals contracted.

The new Indra sat on his knees on the other side of the bed once his body stopped shaking and convulsing because of the physical changes to which he was subjected. With his eyes closed, he remained still, immobile. The new amount of hair falling from his head surrounded him, generating a blanket around. His claws remained peacefully on his thighs, while his being seemed to have entered into a state of meditation.

Until a slight movement, impossible for the eyes of those who were not Shinobis, took possession of his countenance.

Indra was moving his nose. Or rather, the tip of the it.

It was almost imperceptible, but Sakura noticed it while analyzing the situation.

“Indra…?”

His eyes opened to an alarming speed, while a twisted and sinister smile appeared in his face. This was not Indra, she understood. To this being it applied the only rule he had given her before accepting.

This was Indora.

Indora was smelling her.

Indora had already smelled her.

버닝 / Burning (2018)

"It's too close, you might not see it"

What to say about this movie...

The film itself is quite simple, even too easy at first sighting I'd dare to say, but the meaning behind, the interpretations and smart details is what makes it unique and pretty much a masterpiece.

I'm sure that most people, or at least those who usually watch unchallenging to elaborate movies, won't like it. If you're looking for something what will be "explained to you", for the director to give you that big plot twist or long monologue, you won't find it here. But if you want to watch a work of art that'll make you think, reflect and crash your minds, you have a good journey in front of you.

I remember that as soon as I've finished watching it I went online to look for theories, to see if someone else had the same idea as me, if I got it right and what I've missed, and then I planned to write here my thoughts on the real explaination, but after rewatching and searching I've figured it out BURNING doesn't really have a "true" explaination in my idea, or better, the director definitely knows what he believes is the so called truth, but the strength of it is how free of interpretations it is. I've read hundreds theories and honestly all of them could fit just right, so for once I've decided to do something different.

In here I will summarize all the theories, under layers and explaination that I've read, figured out or found, and I will leave to you, the reader, to believe your own "truth"

This will be full of spoilers, it's actually a summarization of the after watch, so read at your own risk, and since I'm taking for granted that you've watched the movie and remember it quite well too, I won't always repeat the plot when not necessary.

• Ben sells organs on the black market. That's how he gets his money and Haemi is aware of this, and decided to sell her own organs to pay off her debt. She even says I'D SELL MY ORGANS IF I WERE YOUNGER. She could also be unaware of this and that's why she dissapears.

• Ben is a serial killer. He seduces fragile women who are very easy preys to such an handsome and carismactic young man, and then gets rid of them after he gets tired. This happens about every couple of months, which corresponds to his journey in Africa timeline. They are the greenhouses he burns, because he knows nobody will look for them, and in fact the police does not care about the greenhouses, just like they don't care about missing women nobody knows about.

Ben also owns all the qualities of a maniac sociopath who's keen on control and feels no emotion or empathy. He never cries for example. He also feels pride in his crime and he's almost tempted to confess them to show how good he is. That's why he says to Jongsu that he will burn a greenhouse close to him, but he didn't mean it in a special terminology, but more like in an emotional sense. He will kill the the closest thing the other has, which is Haemi. He also states that she dissapeared like "smoke".

This would also be justified by the creepy call the protagonist receives by Haemi before she dissapears. The biggest evidence placed by the director to prove that this theory is the most correct one is in the last scene, where Ben is putting makeup on a new girl. For a non Korean speaker it's quite hard to get the reference but Makeup and corpses' cremation are spelled in the same way in the hangul language, therefore the movie showing us Ben doing the girl's makeup is the alternative way to say he's killed her and is now cremating the body, hence his obsession with fires.

He's the one who cleaned Haemi's room and took her cat. He also keeps his victims personal objects as a throphy of some sort.

• Ben is a pimp. He's the trainer for these beautiful, young but poor women who are ready to sell themselves when he convinces them to do so. This is shown as Haemi also become less and less shy as the movie goes on, as seen in the undressing scene, while being more bold and provocative too. He changed her drastically, or maybe only let her discover a different, more free, part of herself. He also applies makeup on them how he would do to a doll, playing dress up for a woman who's now becoming just an object of desire that can be bought.

• Ben is a human trafficker. He sends women into slavery while promising them a life of luxury and happiness. That's why he shows off his idyllic lifestyle, and then sells them in Africa (where he goes frequently), where they'll never be found.

• Ben is a life guru. He teaches unsecure and frustrated women to feel liberated and less oppressed, to leave it all behind and start from scratch. They pay him, that's why he's rich. He also keeps a "souvenir" of every woman he has turned. This could explain why he shows up to the meeting with Jongsu in the finale. If he actually killed or sold these women he wouldn't fall into the other man's trick.

• Ben doesn't exist. He's just the symbol of everything Jongsu is not but aspires to be. He's rich, confident, cultured and attractive. Every flaw and layer of insecurity Jongsu seems to have, Ben lacks. And in the end, when the protagonist finally becomes brave enough to mature, to actually chase the woman he loves, he's able to kill the shadow of himself that only reminded him of how miserable he was.

• Ben and Jongsu are the same person. Much Fight Club like, they're the same human being, just different, extreme sides of one. Jongsu could have a personality disorder or maybe we're just shown two sides of him that prove his mental health issues. That's also why Haemi seems to be involved with both of them without choosing a side, because one is the gentle but insecure fraction, the other the bold but arrogant one. And then, in the end, when such division is making him go insane, he decides to kill his alter ego.

• It's just a love triangle. One of my favorite songs of all time had a similar topic. There's the main character, a shy and quiet boy, who falls in love with a girl who feels foreign and unreachable to him. But he's not the only one in her life. She also has another lover who's much more attractive and manly in a way, and all three start to share this peculiar poliamorous love story, mostly platonic. She's very pretty and feels as free as Venus, torn between two men. Then one day she leaves, and she'll never come back. But while the second boy easily moves on with his life, figuring out it was just a näive fling, the singer remains stuck, obsessing over her day and night, trying to find answers and solutions just not to deal with the realization of her not loving him enough to stay.

• Every character represents a social stereotypes and criticism of modern South Korean classes. I think this is very straightforward, especially Jongsu's jealousy of Ben's wealth, and Haemi's attempt to RISE in the social pyramid, surrounding herself with high class people like Ben or his friends, even letting them make joke of her, to mock her, all of it just to feel part of their group and reality.

• It's all in Jongsu's head.

• The disappearance of Haemi, whether it happened or not or HOW it happened are not the main focus on the movie, which instead is the characters dealing with such loss and lack of knowledge on what happened. Much like the Russian movie Loveless (2017), where the event is only used as an artistical device to let the story progress and the characters' grief culminate. Maybe we really don't need to know what happened to her, maybe she's dead, maybe she's alive and better than ever, but to the movie's intent such information is superficial, it's just the human need to fill our curiosity when were too afraid to deal with the pain of remaining unaware of it. Jongsu is sure she's been killed and that brings him to his next move, but the viewer, he doesn't need to know, because he doesn't need to act, to keep the story going.

• Haemi might have killed herself. Ben is the only one who knows about this and that's why she gives him her cat. She also shows multiple signs of advanced depression, for more than half of the movie is almost like she's not there, like she's already just the memory, the ghost of a girl who once was there.

• The movie itself is just a metaphor. The metaphor is many times used by the characters and maybe not only as a word, part of a dialogue, but the overall film might be A BIG, CRIPTIC METAPHOR.

• Everything is hereditary. From family's fortunes and richness to behavior and inner rage. Jongsu was born poor and will die as such just like his father, and even though he seems like the most innocuous being, he's able to take out his rage on other just like this father. I guess it's in the genes.

• Jongsu is the calf. The calf represents Jongsu's pureness and naivety. And when he sells it, he's also selling his soul in a way.

• Haemi represents South Korea, Jongsu North Korea, Ben is the new Korea, the one always more and more Westernized.

• We're just reading the plot of Jongsu's book. When Haemi leaves for Africa he has plenty of time to write the story he's planning to put into words, and that's what he does. Everything we see after she comes back from her journey is just the plot of the book, and the creation of Jongsu's imagination.

• A modern reinterpretation of the Great Gatsby. Yes, obviously a VERY liberate view of the novel, but many details seem to be quite evocative.

• A criticism to how South Korea treats women. Even the movie itself does this, probably on purpose. The one who disappears is a woman, but the ones who are the main centre of attention are men. She's only a story device, never the real protagonist.

• Ben wanted Jongsu to discover his crimes so he could reach fame if the other ever made a book out of it. He's so full of himself he'd rather be punished for his crimes than never showing off how good he was at covering every proof. That's why he dies almost peacefully, and shed a tear, which he claimed to have never done before.

• The well Haemi reference to, symbolizes falling into prostitution. That's why Jongsu's mother knows about it too, since it's quite obvious she's now an escort. But she states the well is dry, as a way of saying that it's not how easy and fun it might seem.

• This is just the tragic story of a boy who's lost every possible source of love. From his father in jail, his mother who abandoned him, to the only girl that ever showed him affection disappearing, and a new friend who he decides to kill.

• Ben is Death or maybe the devil personified. He helps Haemi get the courage to end it one for all, and even pushes Jongsu to kill, cursing his soul.

Book Seventy-Eight: Elevation

“...heavy shit trying to seem light...”

Remember when Kendall Jenner did that stupid, tone-deaf commercial where she handed a police officer a can of Pepsi, and successfully stopped a race riot? Like, that was all it took: a supermodel and a can of soda. God bless. 

If that commercial were a book, it would be Elevation. It’s the same level of dumbed-down problem solving... with a guy who magically floats away at the end. So, you know, it’s got the standard Steve twist on it. 

Elevation is a short little book set in Castle Rock. Scott Carey is losing weight, but his appearance isn’t changing. So, it’s kind of like Thinner, just without the glow-up. While he’s going through his Thinner phase, he’s also fighting with his neighbors, Deirdre McComb, and Missy Donaldson, who allow their dogs to shit on his yard. I understand this deep in my soul. Today I watched as someone walked his dog past our yard, and when the dog was sniffing around, I was ready to open my door and offer the dog walker a poop bag if he needed one. Spoiler: the dog didn’t poop, and I officially need to get out of my house more. This is what passes for entertainment on a Friday afternoon. 

Deirdre and Missy own a restaurant in downtown Castle Rock that the residents seem hesitant to visit. Apparently there are some deep seated homophobic vibes going on in this creepy little city. I think it’s ironic so much unbelievable shit has gone down in Castle Rock, but people draw the line at lesbians serving vegetarian food.

 Needful Things opening up and causing a riot in downtown Castle Rock? Better than lesbians! 

A guy trying to assassinate a sketchy politician? More popular than vegetarian cuisine. (That’s a Dead Zone reference, y’all).

Fucking Cujo is talked about and more accepted than Missy and Deirdre. 

Scott tries to make nice with the ladies, but they’re not really picking up what he’s putting down. Meanwhile, he’s still losing weight at an alarming rate. 

The local Thanksgiving Turkey Trot is coming up, and Scott makes a bet with Deirdre about whether or not he could beat her. She’s an accomplished runner, and skeptical at best. But, Scott is lighter than air, and ends up almost winning the race. The newspaper captures a picture of the two of them embracing at the finish line, and just like that- the town accepts Deirdre and Missy, and their restaurant is now the hottest ticket in town. 

All because of the picture, and Scott’s acceptance of them. 

I can’t. 

The theme of the book is best summarized as, “Not a wind, not even a high, exactly, but an elevation. A sense that you had gone beyond yourself and could go further still.” 

I just finished the book and shook my head. If only breaking down barriers and finding acceptance were as easy as that. I guess it’s a nice little story, it’s just wildly unbelievable and not very realistic. 

But, there were plenty of Constant Reader mentions:

Castle Rock

A band named Pennywise & the Clowns

Number 19

Bannerman Road- named after the longest running sheriff in Castle Rock

Gunslinger

This wasn’t a poorly written book, it just did nothing for me. Steve should shy away from societal messages, and stick with good old-fashioned horror stories instead. 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 48

Total Dark Tower References: 75

Book Grade: D

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

Doctor Sleep: A+

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

11/22/63: A+

Mr. Mercedes: A+

End of Watch: A+

Under the Dome: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Full Dark, No Stars: A+

The Outsider: A+

The Bazaar of Bad Dreams: A+

Just After Sunset: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

Stephen King Goes to the Movies: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Finders Keepers: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

Duma Key: A-

Black House: A-

The Institute: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

The Dark Tower: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Blaze: B+

Hard Listening: B+

Revival: B+

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Joyland: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

Wolves of the Calla: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Song of Susannah: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

From a Buick 8: B

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

Sleeping Beauties: B-

The Colorado Kid: B-

Storm of the Century: B-

Everything’s Eventual: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

The Wind Through the Keyhole: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Cell: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Faithful: D

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Lisey’s Story: D

Christine: D

Dreamcatcher: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers D

Next up is If It Bleeds: the second to last book I have to read!!! The end is in sight! Well, until Billy Summers comes out in April. 

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights, Rebecca

BLOGTOBER 10/17/2020: SPOOKIES

What do we watch, when we watch movies? This question was sparked by my SOV experience with the very different, and differently interesting BLOODY MUSCLE BODYBUILDER FROM HELL and HORROR HOUSE ON HIGHWAY 5. Within the Shot On Video category, one can find inventive homemade features that are driven entirely by blood, sweat, and the creators' feeling of personal satisfaction. The results are sometimes fascinating, in their total alienation from the conventions and techniques of mainstream filmmaking, and after all, one rarely sees anything whose primary motivation is passion, here in the late stages of capitalism. But, all this talk about what goes on behind the camera points to a discrepancy in how we consume different kinds of production. The typical mode of consumption is internal to the movie: What happens in it? Do you relate to the characters? Are you able to suspend your disbelief, to experience the story on a vicarious level? One hardly needs to come up with examples of films that invite this style of viewing. Alternatively, we can experience the movie as a record of a time and place in which real people defied conventions and sometimes broke laws in order to produce a work of art. SOV production is usually viewed through this lens, where the primary interest is not the illusory content, but the filmmakers' sheer determination to create. We find some overlap in movies like EVIL DEAD, which simultaneously presents a terrifying narrative, and evidence of what a truly driven team can create without the aid of a studio, or any real money to speak of. See also, Larry Cohen's New York City-based horror films, in which a compelling drama with great acting can exist side by side with phony but beautiful effects, and exciting stories of stolen footage that would be dangerous or impossible to attempt today. I'm thinking about these different modes of consumption now because I just watched SPOOKIES, a legitimately cursed-seeming film whose harrowing production history has superseded whatever people think about what it shows on the screen. The lovingly composed blu-ray from Vinegar Syndrome includes a feature-length documentary that attempts to explain the making of the film--which is accompanied by its own feature length commentary track by documentarists Michael Gingold and Glen Baisley. The very existence of this artifact suggests a lot about the nature of this movie, in and of itself. The truth behind its existence is as funny as it is tragic.

I'm not going to do a whole breakdown of the tortured origins of SPOOKIES, which is much better told by the aforementioned documentary. To summarize: Once upon a time in the mid 1980s, filmmakers Brendan Faulkner, Thomas Doran and Frank Farel conspired to make a fun, flamboyant rubber monsterpiece called TWISTED SOULS. It was wild, ridiculous, and transparently fake-looking, but it was loved by its hard-working creators; as a viewer, that soulful sense of joy can rescue many a "bad" movie from its various foibles. Then, inevitably, sleazoid producer Michael Lee stepped in--a man who thought you could cut random frames out of the middle of scenes to improve a movie's pace--and ruined it with extreme prejudice. Carefully crafted special effects sequences were cut, relatively functional scenes were re-edited into oblivion, and the seeds of hatred were sown between the filmmakers and the producer. Ultimately, everyone who once cared for TWISTED SOULS was forced to abandon ship, and first time director Eugenie Joseph stepped in to help mutilate the picture beyond all recognition. Thus SPOOKIES was born, a mangled, unloved mutation that would curse many of its original parents to unemployability. For the audience, it is intriguingly insane, often insulting, and hard to tear your eyes off of--but in spite of whatever actually wound up on the screen, it's impossible to forget its horrifying origin story as it unspools.

As far as what's on the screen goes: A group of "friends", including a middle-aged businessman and his wife, a vinyl-clad punk rock bully and his moll, two new wave-y in-betweeners, and...a guy with a hand puppet are somehow all leaving the same party, and all ready to break into a vacant funeral home for their afterparty. Well, this happens after a 13 year old runaway inexplicably wanders in to a "birthday party" in there, that looks like it was thrown for him by Pennywise, and he has the nerve to act surprised when he is attacked by a severed head and a piratey-looking cat-man who straight up purrs and meows throughout the picture. Anyway, separately of that, which is unrelated to anything, the island of misfit friends finds a nearly unrecognizable "ouija board" in the old dark house. Actually this thing is kind of fun-looking, having been made by one of the fun-havers on the production before the day that fun died, and I wonder if anyone has considered trying to make a real board game out of it...but I digress. Naturally, the board unleashes evil forces, including a zombie uprising in the cemetery outside, a plague of Ghoulie-like ankle-biters, an evil asian spider-lady (accompanied by kyoto flutes), muck-men that fart prodigiously until they melt in a puddle of wine (?), and uh...I know I'm forgetting stuff. One of the reasons I'm forgetting is because of this whole side story about a tuxedo-wearing vampire in the basement (or somewhere?) who has entrapped a beautiful young bride by cursing her with immortality. That part is a little confusing, not only because it doesn't intersect with the rest of the movie, but because sometimes it seems contemporary--as the bride struggles to survive the zombie plague--and sometimes it seems like a flashback, as our heroes find what looks like the mummified corpse of the dracula guy, complete with his signet ring. So, I don't know what to tell you really. Those are just some of the things that happen in the movie.

Some people like this a lot, and have supported its ascendance to cult status, which is a huge relief when you know what everyone went through to make this movie, only to have it ripped away from them and used against them. I found SPOOKIES a little hard to take, for all the reasons that the cast and crew express in the documentary. It holds a certain amount of visual fascination, whatever you think of it; something of its original creativity remains evident in the movie's colorful, exaggerated look, and its steady parade of unconvincing but inventive creature effects. But then, you have to deal with the farting muck-men. What was once a scene of terror starring REGULAR muck-men, that sounded incredibly laborious to pull off, became a scene of confusing "comedy" when producer Michael Lee insisted that the creatures be accompanied by a barrage of scatalogical noises. Apparently this was Lee's dream come true, as a guy who insisted everyone pull his finger all the time, and who once tried to call the movie "BOWEL ERUPTOR". But, of all the deformations SPOOKIES endured, the fart sounds dealt a mortal injury to the filmmakers' feelings, and even without knowing that, it's hard to enjoy yourself while that's happening.

Actually, all the farts forced me to ask myself: Is this...a comedy? Like for real, as its main thing? As the movie slogged on, I had to decide that it wasn't, but I was distracted by the notion for around 40 minutes. I was only released from this nagging suspicion when the bride makes her long marathon run through throngs of slavering zombies who swarm her, grope her, and tear off her clothes, before she narrowly escapes to an even worse fate. The lengthy scene is strangely gripping, and sleazy for a movie that sometimes feels like low rent children's entertainment. Part of the sequence’s success lies in its simplicity; it is unburdened by the convoluted complications of the rest of the movie, whose esoteric parts never fall together, so it seems to take on a sustained, intensifying focus. The action itself is unnerving, as the delicate and frankly gorgeous Maria Pechuka is molested and stripped nearly-bare by her undead bachelors, running from one drooling mob to another as the horde nearly engulfs her time and again. Actually, it feels a lot like a certain genre of SOV production in which, for the right price, any old creepy nerd can pay a small crew-for-hire to tape a version of his private fantasy, whether it's women being consumed by slime, or women being consumed by quicksand, or...generally, women being consumed by something. I wish I could describe this form of production in more specific or official terms, because I genuinely think it's wonderful that people do this. Anyway, Pechuka's interminable zombie run feels a little like that, and a little like a grim italian gutmuncher, and a little like an actual nightmare. Perhaps it only stands out against its dubious surroundings, but I kind of love it--and I'm happy to love it, because apparently the late Ms. Pechuka truly loved making SPOOKIES, and wanted other people to love it, too.

Which brings me to the uncomfortable place where I land with this movie. On the one hand...I think it's bad. It's so incoherent, and so insists on its impoverished form of comedy, that it's hard to be as charmed by it as I am by plenty of FX-heavy, no-budget oddities. Perhaps the lingering odor of misery drowns out the sweet joy that the crew once felt in the early days of creation--which is still evident, somehow, in its zany special effects, created by the likes of Gabe Bartalos and other folks whose work you definitely already know and love. But I feel ambivalent, about all of this. On the one hand, I can be a snob, and shit on people for failing to make a movie that meets conventional standards of success. On the other hand, I can be a DIFFERENT kind of snob--a more voyeuristic or even sadistic one--and celebrate the painful failures that produced a movie that is most interesting for its tormented history and its amusing ineptitude. I'm not really sure where I would prefer to settle with SPOOKIES, and movies like it. (As if anything is really "like" SPOOKIES) With all that said, I was left with one soothing thought by castmember Anthony Valbiro in the documentary. At some point, he tells us how ROSEMARY'S BABY is his personal cinematic comfort food; he can put it on at night, after an exhausting day, and drift to sleep, enveloped in its warm, glowing aura. He then says that he hopes there are people out there for whom his movie serves that same purpose, that some of us can have our "milk and cookies moment" with SPOOKIES. Honestly, I choke up just thinking about that.

Riddle Me This: A Tom Riddle Character Study

[Also posted on Reddit, if you want to comment/share your thoughts!] 

Riddle Me This: A Tom Riddle Character Study

*Warnings: some profanity, spoilers, and puns.

‘Twas but a regular Saturday eve when a question of utmost importance grabbed hold of me: ‘Voldemort, why such a You-Know-What?’

You see, while Voldemort appears to be a very classic villain, Tom has proven to be an enigma wrapped in a Riddle (hehe). So, equipped with what I remembered from my BSc in Social Psychology, I also called upon my therapist friend with an MSc in Forensic Psychology to explore what would drive someone like Tom Riddle to become Lord Voldemort.

In this gone-awry Reddit comment, I will drag you along for a deep dive into how our little Dark Lord grew up and discuss concepts like power, control, sense of self, and terror management – all up to the point where Tom Marvolo Riddle introduces his clever anagram ‘Immortal Love Rodd’ ‘I am Lord Voldemort.’

Join me on this character study journey of about 5,500 words (15-30 min) where I try to figure out how Voldemort came to be.

Oh, and be sure to share your thoughts at the end of the ride!

 Baby Lord Voldemort: A Pensive Pensieve Trip

“Voldemort is my past, present, and future.”

 Long before we found out Snake-face Voldemort had barely a soul left, we thought he was the purest form of evil out there. He had done despicable things before his supposed death and had now resurfaced as a gross face on the back of someone’s head, hell-bent on killing this little kid. As we gradually learned, Voldemort was once Tom Riddle: a charming, brilliant, orphaned Wizard with the potential to go on and do great things. But, we also learned many little tidbits about the circumstances before his birth, about how he grew up and how he portrayed himself at Hogwarts, which has given us just enough to come up with our own theories about his personality and how he was shaped.

So, before we continue, let me quickly arm you with some abnormal psych. terminology. Both Riddle and Voldemort really match the three personality traits of (malignant) narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy, aptly known as ‘The Dark Triad’. 

Plucked straight from the Wiki, summarized for your convenience:

Narcissism

is characterized by grandiosity, pride, egotism, and a lack of empathy. 

Malignant narcissism

is when narcissism is combined with antisocial behaviors; the evil side of narcissism. (I stumbled upon

A Study in Evil: Voldemort, the Malignant Narcissist

after writing all of this, but I highly recommend giving it a read if you want a deep dive.)

Machiavellianism

is characterized by manipulation and exploitation of others, an absence of morality, unemotional callousness, and a higher level of self-interest.

Psychopathy

is characterized by continuous antisocial behavior, impulsivity, selfishness, callous and unemotional traits (CU), and remorselessness. (Better distinguished as ‘primary psychopathy’.)

*Sidenote: the term ‘sociopath’ is quite often used in pop culture, sometimes even interchangeably with ‘psychopath’. The actual diagnostic term is ‘antisocial personality disorder’, as described by the DSM-5. However, there is a difference between sociopathy and psychopathy, a whole slew of them actually. Important to note is that a ‘sociopath’ refers to a person with antisocial tendencies that are ascribed to social or environmental factors, whereas psychopathic traits are thought to be more innate, i.e. genetic causes (x).

We are given facts in the book that suggest psychopathic, antisocial, and (malignant) narcissistic traits are evident in Tom Riddle from early childhood. Using all that information, I want to take you on a ride to see how all these tidbits together shaped Tom Riddle and how that would lead him to become Lord Voldemort (not to be confused with ‘going Full Voldemort’).

  The Interplay of Nature and Nurture, and Magic

Psychopathy is believed to be a complex interworking of mostly nature but also nurture, let’s unpack this in regards to Riddle.

Tom Riddle is born to a Pure-blood mother, Merope Gaunt, and a Muggle father, Tom Riddle Sr. When we are first introduced to the Gaunts, Salazar Slytherin’s last descendants, we meet a violent father and son, and a daughter who takes the brunt of it. We are told that the entire Gaunt line has a history of inbreeding and that they are known to produce individuals with violent and unstable personalities. They live in dire conditions but are incredibly proud people and sneer at the mere existence of Muggles. Merope grows up poor and abused, traumatized, ridiculed for her lack of magic that seems to be more the result of the abuse than the cause for it. Not far from their shack in Little Hangleton lives Tom Riddle Sr.: rich, handsome, somewhat of a prat, and the object of Merope’s affections. Being no great beauty and with little to offer, she “hoodwinks” Tom Riddle Sr. and escapes her dreadful life with her family. Merope is soon with child after their marriage and decides to release Tom Riddle Sr. of whatever spell he’s under, but he leaves her immediately.

Let’s consider the circumstances surrounding the conception of Tom Riddle. J.K. Rowling said that Voldemort could not understand love as he was conceived in a ‘loveless union’. However, she also stated that had Merope decided to live and raise Tom, his life would’ve turned out differently by knowing ‘love’. We could understand the tidbits shared by J.K. to mean that a child born into a loveless union would perhaps grow up in a loveless household, would have no good examples of what love is and would not know or be shown love. While Dumbledore hints that he suspects Merope used a Love Potion to “hoodwink” Tom Riddle Sr., we only know that magic was used. I always understood said ‘loveless union’ to be a magical violation – violation in every sense of the word – and that Tom’s incapability to love was due to magic that tried to correct a balance, i.e. the Laws of Magic™ were violated. Now, I’m no Magical Theorist, but this could mean that actual Magic™ is at play in addition to a genetic predisposition to explain Tom’s psychopathic traits.

Apart from these genetic and magical factors, we could also consider the environmental factors that influenced the biological development of Tom. Merope was left destitute and depressed when Riddle Sr. abandoned her while pregnant. In the dead of winter, with a lot of stressors and suppressed magic, she gave birth to Tom at the orphanage and then died. While we don’t know how her pregnancy developed, this being all guesswork, the prenatal stressors and perhaps a complicated birth due to her suppressed magic could have influenced Tom’s brain development. Brain development or deviating brain structures are linked to psychopathy (x). Simply said, the parts of the brain responsible for empathy and guilt or fear and anxiety don’t work the same for psychopaths, e.g. they don’t experience fear or other affects the way others might. In a psychopathic child, for example, this could mean that they would be hard to socialize because they don’t fear punishment even though they might know that it is a consequence of their behavior. It’s also what makes them great liars (psychopaths can ace a lie detector test like no other). It can also mean being more prone to boredom and seeking thrills as a result (low arousal theory). We could even view all of this in light of ‘Magic™ development’ instead of the Muggle term ‘brain development’.

In addition to taking into account these hereditary, biological and prenatal factors, we'd be remiss not to look at the effect of nurture. Now, we don’t actually know that much about Tom’s early childhood except for what we learn during Dumbledore’s visit to Wool’s Orphanage in 1938. We find out that Tom steals from people, has no qualms about hurting animals, scares and bullies other children, and is a consummate liar ‒ all while having/showing no remorse. Mrs. Cole, the matron of the orphanage, refers to Tom as being a funny boy and odd, that he was a “funny baby, too” and “hardly ever cried”. It is conceivable that the caretakers gave him less attention in response to his lack of showing his needs through crying and that he was picked up and held less often. It could also be a chicken-or-egg situation: perhaps he didn’t cry because he learned his cries would not be responded to, etc. Even if we leave magic out of the equation as to why they would find him ‘funny’, it is likely that he showed general ‘abnormal’ responses and behaviors not appropriate for his developmental stage that were unsettling to others. It is easy to assume that this would lead to people distancing themselves from him and alienating him further. Regardless of cause-effect, there are clear signs here that Tom grows up maladjusted and that his attachment style falls somewhere along the dismissive-avoidant. I think we can assume that the lack of developing a relationship with at least one primary caregiver would really put a damper on having any semblance of a ‘normal’ social and emotional development.

There seems to be a clear interplay here of genetic, biological (magical) and environmental factors as the perfect foundation for dysfunctional personality traits to really come to fruition.

  Power & Control: A Narcissistic Trip 

 “There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it.”

 Strap in as we first take a little detour for a quick exploration of narcissism. As previously stated, we clearly see signs of malignant narcissism in young Tom, characterized by grandiosity, pride, egotism, and a lack of empathy, combined with antisocial behaviors. What is particularly applicable in Tom’s case is Kohut’s theory of narcissism. 

The Little Narcissist

 In psychoanalytic theory, primary narcissism in children is part of their development.

It is normal for children to develop self-love and object-love, as Kohut puts it. Entertaining notions of greatness, magical thinking, feeling omnipotent and omniscient and believing to have a certain immunity to the consequences of their actions is all part of this development. It is quite innocent, but it can become pathological. According to Kohut, children are normally gently disillusioned of these grand notions, in a nontraumatic manner, by maturing and becoming part of society. Pathological narcissism, however, develops when the child basically has defective narcissistic structures of the self by having this process disrupted.

This defective structure fits Tom Riddle to a T. In addition, Kohut’s theory of object-love really applies here as well. According to Kohut, either a child has a ‘mother’ to confirm their grandiosity, or they seek an adult to create an ‘idealized parent image’. This means they will seek an adult, someone powerful they can look up to, so they can bask in their reflected glory. For Tom, having neither someone to confirm his grandiosity nor someone to look up to means he creates his own powerful parent. We notice this when Tom explicitly asks Dumbledore about his father being a Wizard, since his mother obviously could not have been; she wouldn’t have died if she was. One can imagine his (narcissistic) rage when this image was shattered later on. His five-year search for the Chamber of Secrets to confirm he’s the Heir of Slytherin is a direct result of Tom’s continued search for a sense of self.

  The Narcissist’s Plight: Need for Control

 One of our main human motivational processes is the desire for control. Actually, it is perceived control that really helps our general sense of well-being. This need exists and is deeply embedded in all of us. However, when people are tried and tested, feel threatened or powerless, a lack of agency can kickstart all kinds of coping mechanisms to maintain the sense of self. So, simply put: the less perceived control you have, the greater the need. 

 When we speak of power, we speak of control. If there is anyone who is desperate for control it’s the narcissist. The narcissist is believed to have such low self-esteem and fragile ego that it will, subconsciously, protect itself from being injured at all costs. Controlling your circumstances and those around you is a means of guarding and protecting the ego. Anything less just won’t do. A threat to that control, that power, is a perceived threat to the sense of self.

Power is a concept that really tickles Riddle/Voldemort’s Niffler as we pretty much learn from the get-go. Consider again, for a moment, where and how Tom grew up. His ability to control came from his magic. Seeing as how Tom grew up in an orphanage, not a penny to his name and very few resources, I think that Tom learned early on that everything could so easily be taken away from him ‒ by someone bigger, older, someone who had more power. While Tom could ‘control’ his circumstances to some degree with his magic, he was still a child. He seemed to have an innate understanding of his powerlessness, i.e. lack of control. Perhaps less helpless than other children, but still a child dependent on others. Not only that, but he was dependent on people he deemed lesser than him, less intelligent, less special. Something a narcissist like Tom would deeply resent. The thing here is that viewing others as beneath you or believing oneself to be superior to others is an ego defense to deal with insecurity, shame, rejection, etc. Tom develops this ego defense but also gets confirmation of his grandiosity through having magical power that actually does set him apart.

 Rejection is another big theme in the life of a narcissist; one that Tom was very familiar with. He was unwanted and fully made aware of it: his mother ‘left’ him by dying, his father never came for him, he was not chosen for adoption, and there were many other children vying for attention. Attention that Tom did not receive but perhaps believed he was owed. Originating from a sense of entitlement, someone like Tom would come to view any sort of rejection as a slight (for he is smarter, better, etc.). While Tom might not have even wanted such attention or even had a particular need to belong – considering he didn’t view anyone as a peer/equal – the fact that it was not automatically given to him was probably construed as insulting. 

  Control Through Controlling Others

 Mrs. Cole told Dumbledore that Tom scared the other children and that it was hard to catch him at any bullying or other malicious acts. With the ability to control his magic at such a young age, along with being highly intelligent, he was quick to figure out how to use this to his advantage. He could fly under the radar when needed, manipulate those in power, and use his skills to control others through fear ‒ ultimately to protect himself and what little he had, but also relishing how he could lord his power over others, establishing his superiority and showing them all how special he was. I believe that Tom honed the art of manipulation at a young age as he couldn’t fathom other ways of tying people to him, of forming relationships ‒ unless there was fear or a sense of owing. His magic gave him the additional tools to control those that didn’t have it.

Then, a defining moment: Tom meets Dumbledore.  Using the same control tactics he has probably used with everyone around, Tom tries to command Dumble to do/say certain things. If you squint, you could even say that Tom was able to put a magical compulsion in his commands. Dumbledore, being who he is, is unmoved and even gently puts Tom in his place, which in Tom’s eyes would be considered a slight.

When Tom learns there is a word for his abilities, he is very eager to show off and be acknowledged for it by someone he could potentially identify with, someone who can show him the path to more knowledge, more power, someone ‘worthy’. For the first time, he encounters someone he wants to impress; he does this by boasting about his abilities. How telling it is that our Little Lord says that he “can make bad things happen to people who annoy me,” – not “mean to me” as the movie had us believe.

Here, Tom seems to have accidentally truly revealed himself – perhaps for the first time, definitely the last time. Out of childlike excitement and eagerness, he has shown his hand, which he immediately regrets when it is not followed by recognition and/or approval from Dumbledore. Dumbledore, quickly catching on to the power dynamics, asks Tom to address him as ‘sir’ or ‘professor’ and immediately establishes his authority. Tom accepts it begrudgingly, “expression hardened”, as he needs Dumbledore to tell him more. Upon Tom’s demand, Dumbledore’s power is then quickly, and casually, displayed when he uses the Flame-Freezing charm on Tom’s wardrobe. If I’m being honest, I always found Dumbledore’s ‘casual’ display of power to be very loaded and quite problematic, ‘destroying’ something of Tom’s where he had stashed his very few possessions. Yet, Tom quickly goes from outrage to “expression greedy” when he realizes Dumbledore was just showing his power and using it to impress, i.e. instill fear (Tom immediately asks Dumbledore where he can get “one of them [wands]”). 

When Dumbledore uses his ‘power’ to then confront Tom with his stealing and bullying, Tom reluctantly concedes that he cannot manipulate Dumbledore and doesn’t deny his actions, knowing that ‘being truthful’ is how he can appease and steer Dumbledore. He even accepts the humiliation of having to return the stolen items and apologize to others.

Honestly, the whole interaction between them is so significant, so amazing and so telling of Tom’s typical interpersonal dynamics and relationships. It’s no wonder he starts to despise and avoid Dumbledore. Tom had made himself the master of his little universe, believing that no other has his special type of power. Not only did Tom lose his cool during the conversation, he showed weakness by being vulnerable. As Tom learns when he joins the Wizarding World, Dumbledore is even more powerful than he thought and holds strong political power to boot. Someone like Dumbledore, for example, is not just threatening because of his power but because he can see behind Tom’s mask. 

  Control in the Wizarding World

 The interaction with Dumbledore seems to set the tone for Tom’s understanding of ‘power’ in the Wizarding World. It is something he further internalizes when he arrives at Hogwarts and gets sorted into Slytherin, a House of mainly Pure-bloods. I wholeheartedly believe that this little Snake immediately understood the blood status dynamics at school and the hierarchy within Slytherin House; things beyond his control. It is not a stretch to believe that the Slytherins, in particular, bullied him, ostracised him—rejected him—for his lack of Wizarding name, lack of status and money, and tried to show and put him in his place, thus fueling his rage. So at the age of 11, Tom had the mental acuity to realize he needed other tactics to become influential, to wield his power. 

Seeing power and status being inherently awarded to Pure-bloods, the very ones who reject him, his own search for a claim to power/his superiority starts off with an obsessive in-depth exploration of his heritage. It is natural to assume that, along with this quest, Tom educated himself on social politics and how to improve himself. He was able to show humility and regard for others, be inhibited and not boastful. We learn from Dumbledore that Tom at Hogwarts showed signs of covert narcissism: no outward signs of arrogance or aggression, seemed polite, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. He had already learned how to control certain impulses, ingratiate himself, how to hide in plain sight. He just continued to perfect it; he became above reproach by being the perfect student in the eyes of the adults, while fooling his fellow students and building his own following (feeding his ego along the way). He played into Slytherin politics and managed to establish himself as something to behold and to be frightened of, especially when he learned of being a descendent of Salazar Slytherin – a legit claim to power. He now had proof of something he had always believed: I am above them. 

  Loss of Control and Terror Management

 Throughout his time at Hogwarts, Tom managed to perfect his control over others. Despite all his received praise and accolades, his ego remained fragile. I think the fact that he could not escape his blood status, his class – made especially salient when he had to return to the orphanage during the summer – really fueled his obsession to confirm he’s the Heir, i.e. to strengthen his sense of self. 

 Apart from the orphanage, Tom spends the rest of his formative years at Hogwarts, where he is, at most, considered a Half-blood if not a Muggle-born – i.e. lesser than. His fragile ego and sense of self is constantly challenged if not outright attacked. What’s even more confronting is that he also still has to return to the orphanage during summer break in the years 1938-1945 until he is of age. A place where he cannot use his magic; where he cannot sow the merits of his efforts at Hogwarts; a place where he has little to no control. He has to go back to being an orphan, in an orphanage, among Muggles. This having to return to Hogwarts is even more interesting to note when you consider there is both a Muggle war (WW2) and a Wizarding war (Grindelwald) happening.

 That’s why we should also place all of this in the context of when this all took place. Tom experiences both WW2 and the Grindelwald days while he’s a teenager and still at Hogwarts. While he was safe at Hogwarts during most of the year and the winter holidays, he still had to return during the summer. Let me quickly add here that Grindelwald never attacked Britain, but Muggle London was dealing with (the threat of) bombings during those years, with heavy losses in terms of homes, businesses, and lives. Tom just about avoided The Blitz (Sep 7, 1940 – May 11, 1941) and the evacuation of children of Sep 1, 1939 (although, how he managed that, don’t ask). It’s safe to say that times were incredibly tough and unsafe in those days. 

 So on that note, let me introduce you to Terror Management Theory (TMT). It basically means that when faced with ‘terror’, i.e. one’s own mortality, the anxiety that goes with it can make people do some really effed up things. People will start chasing ways to boost their self-esteem, their self-worth, and for ways to confirm that their life has meaning and that they certainly are not insignificant or disposable. That they matter. Mind you, this all takes place without people even realizing that this is driving them. This theory rears its head when we speak of racism as well. In trying to elevate their sense of self, people can attach great importance to the group they identify with. They will then seek out ways to confirm their group is superior to others (well, well, well). 

This theory seems to also fit Tom’s strange, half-assed Heir of Slytherin shenanigans. Same as what happened in the interaction with Dumbledore, Tom’s glee at finding out he’s indeed special makes him impulsive and greedy, disregarding the consequences and acting out of his ‘careful’ character. He has new power within his grasp, new thrills to seek and uncover. In his excitement, he is reckless and gets Myrtle Warren killed. While the rest of his attacks seem very planned and controlled, perhaps to impress his new Knights but most likely to see how far he could push boundaries, it also shows that he either doesn't think or doesn’t care about potential consequences. He is arrogant and unfearing. He could never get caught. Tom only starts caring when his actions become disadvantageous to himself; Hogwarts would close if the attacks continued, meaning he would lose all that he had skilfully and carefully cultivated.

In short, the need for control can drive one to go to really terrible lengths. Straight up tomfoolery, if you will. And if anyone went to great lengths, it was Tom Riddle’s becoming of Lord Voldemort.

  Becoming Lord Voldemort:  The Narcissistic Psychopathic Wizard’s Guide to Ultimate Power

“What I was, even I do not know … I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal – to conquer death.”

 Before we found out the little tidbits about Tom Riddle, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s motives seemed straightforward: Pure-bloods must reign supreme. Knowing what we know now, it would be too simplistic to state that Lord Voldemort was purely driven by hatred for an imagined inferior Other. Namely because at the core of hatred lies fear. A need for control and the deep-seated fear of losing said control would be something Tom would and could never admit to. It would mean acknowledging that something (i.e. fear) had control over him, in effect a weakness.

He is a Half-blood orphan with nothing to his name, a nobody. He has a smidgen of hope when he discovers he is a descendent of Salazar through the Gaunts, but any notion of tangible rewards associated with that is shattered when he finds the Gaunts fallen from grace into obscurity. There is fear of forever being a nobody, unremarkable; entering the world with nothing and leaving the world with nothing ‒ all the while knowing that he is obviously destined for greatness (hello narcissist, my old friend). 

He derived his new sense of self from being a descendant of the great Salazar Slytherin, who ‘rightfully’ detested those of lesser blood. As is typical for the malignant narcissist, Tom really has a ‘transparent’ defense mechanism to protect his fragile ego: projection. His hatred of his own lack of pure blood leads him to distance himself from it, denying whatever undermines his belief of being something special and extraordinary or not being worthy of the name. Distancing himself from that what makes him common and unworthy, he literally takes on a new name and kills off the Riddles. By going to extreme lengths, he can distance himself and 'eradicate' that what he despises most about himself. He is not like those 'filthy' Muggles: the ones he was forced to be dependent on, those lesser beings that deprived him of what he was owed; the ones that left his mother for dead, etc.

His 'great' blood is obviously the reason for his 'greatness', his destiny. Not only was this thought fed by the Pure-bloods around him, but it is the rhetoric that gives him a supply of Pure-bloods fanning at his feet. A thrill in of itself to see the privileged worship him. 

Riddle's actions seem to have always been very self-serving. He never preached what Grindelwald did; it was never for the ‘greater good’. It is quite evident in the vagueness of Voldemort’s politics regarding purity. It was simply a means to an end; just a way to see how far he could go in amassing power. The ‘mission & vision’ he proposed was probably one of the few things that Pure-bloods could get behind and would go to great lengths to achieve/protect. For Tom, it was a way of opening doors. Not only financially and socially, but also in terms of access to knowledge hoarded and guarded by Pure-bloods. Becoming and remaining uncontested in every sense of the word would mean being in control. No longer dependent on what others are willing to ‘grant’ him. No one would ever be able to challenge Him, take anything from Him, ever again: the ultimate power.  

Control of the Uncontrollable

So let’s turn our attention back to power: what would be ultimate power for a Wizard? Something a Wizard has never done and somewhere a Wizard has never gone before: beyond the veils of Death; surpassing mortal constructs ‒ and defeating something as terribly common as 'death'. I think this seed, this fear, was planted in Tom’s mind from a very young age. We see it when he asks Dumbledore whether his father was a wizard, for his mother couldn’t have been “or she wouldn’t have died”. Aptly enough, this fear of death or anxiety induced by the thought of one's one mortality stems from low self-esteem, which a narcissist has in abundance.

It’s also interesting to go back to a psychopath’s psychophysiology. Psychopaths are believed to have low arousal compared to others and are prone to boredom. They could go to lengths to find a ‘thrill’. Discovering the limits, pushing boundaries and going beyond that would be completely on-brand for a Wizard with psychopathic tendencies. Maybe I’ve read too many fanfictions, but a common thought seems to be that the Dark Arts are highly addictive, so someone like Tom would keep pushing it and pushing it, until he could go where no one has gone before. Thus begins his slow decline a la: ‘A Horcrux, you say? Hold my butterbeer, imma make 7.’ 

It’s intriguing that he went for dependence on external objects to safeguard his continued survival. Objects that he either entrusted his most loyal followers with or hid in locations that had meaning to only him. He even had a magical living creature be the container. As we saw over the course of the series, it really wasn’t all that foolproof. But that’s the arrogance of Tom Riddle; he believed that while not many Wizards would even go down the path of creating a Horcrux, none would even conceive creating seven. What’s more, how would anyone even have the smarts to figure out his pattern, his way of thinking – preposterous. If only he had known about the Hallows sooner. Alas.

Granted, there were other ways of circumventing mortality. But ‘cheating’ death by becoming a vampire, for example, would mean being a slave to one's own bloodlust and limitations, dependent on others still to sustain you, i.e. no control, still killable. Another obvious avenue would be using the Philosopher’s Stone as Flamel did, but it would not be anything new. Stealing it or copying it would mean nothing to him. He would be ‘immortal’ but weak and feeble, dependent on a stone, also still killable. So it seems that it’s not necessarily immortality in and of itself, but controlling how and when you die. 

Conclusion: Spiraling out of Control

To summarize the why, Tom Riddle was a narcissistic psychopath with a high IQ, immense magical ability, a chip on his shoulder and something to prove ‒ and a need to be acknowledged for it. The potent mix of nature, magic, and nurture seemed to have really worked their, ehm, magic (sorry). Tom’s ‘abnormal’ behaviors in his childhood were strong predicting factors for the potential to entertain notions of one day being a Dark Lord. However, the odds seem like they were already in that favor before he was even born when we consider his genetic makeup along with the circumstances surrounding his conception and his birth. The Muggle environment he grew up in and the Magical world he was then introduced appear to be the ‘umami’ flavoring for the mix to inevitably lead him down his self-destructive path. 

Tom’s actions and behaviors all seem to boil down to an excessive need for control and the deep-seated fear of losing it. Growing up with Muggles, he used all his talents to exert his control over those weaker, sans Magique. In his peak Riddle days, Tom was quick to figure out he could control people by using his glib charm, his looks, and his extreme intelligence to manipulate everything to his liking. He was able to trick people into ‘wanting’ to give him the things he desires, making people believe that he’s ‘giving’ them something in return. With his psychopathy and narcissism fully taking the wheel, it seems that he no longer cared – or saw the need – to pretend to cater to the wishes of others. Fear became his main tool in the peak Voldemort days; the only thing he deigned to ‘give’ others was allowing them to stay alive, avoid punishment, or allowing them to unleash their darkest fantasies. In chasing evermore control, power, he ends up spiraling. His actions shift from sly, cunning, covert manipulative behaviors to more impulsive, erratic and desperate behaviors, all stemming from a loss of control, of his carefully cultivated power. His mask, literally and figuratively, disappears.

It’s impossible to look past the incredible symbolism and irony of the Horcruxes. In his belief that eliminating and eradicating his weaknesses would make him untouchable, that very pursuit ended up being his undoing. With the killing off of the last vestiges of ‘normality’, he seemed to be completely driven by his impulses (or his Id, as Freud would say). If we add ‘death terror’ to this, it would explain why it went as far as Going Full Voldemort and becoming a mass murderer blindly obsessed with a prophecy that merely hinted at his potential defeat. 

Rowling said that Voldemort's boggart would be his own corpse, and I think that makes sense ‒ for Voldemort, that is. His corpse would signify the fact that he could die and thus be defeated, the ultimate loss in the ultimate battle for ultimate power (say ‘ultimate’ one more time!). I think Tom Riddle's boggart would've been a poor man's grave; not only did he die (ugh, lame), but he died with nothing to show for it. 

With all that being said, being a psychopath does not evil make. However, Tom Riddle’s dire need for a sense of self, immersion in the Dark Arts, and the mutilation of his soul are what really made him turn into an unmitigated You-Know-What. The destruction of his soul left a shell of a man driven by dark base emotions: Full Voldemort.

The end.

I am ready for cherry pie.

I was trying to write this in my journal, but sometimes the feelings want to come out faster than my little hand can scribble so I came here to frantically type it all out. 

I asked God to walk deeper into the Garden of Life. Earlier this summer, I knew I had found Heaven, I felt myself forgiven, I felt everyone forgiven, I felt us all to be love. But what I thought was living in Heaven was actually just the entrance, and I comfortably pulled up a chair to gaze lovingly at its doors lol, and I realized I could actually walk within.  But I was afraid. I asked God for the courage and the clarity to walk deeper into the joy of life. And I heard her joy calling me, a song just for me.  I heard her calling me to music, to sit at my piano keys and play. I heard her calling me through day dreams of traveling in a camper van of my own, of watcher her Holy sunrises at different oceans, to gaze at her freckle stars in the night, in deserts I had never crossed before. I heard her call upon the wind of peace, of sleep. I saw her show how gentle life truly was, how it was willing and wanting to caress me, to be caressed.  BUT I still felt fear, and even worse a strange itch overcame me to purposely look for terrible things, things I don’t even want to look at on a regular basis. Wanting to purposely look at murders, at violence, at suffering. And I didn’t understand why. I knew better than to succumb to the itch to seek these things out, I knew it wouldn’t give me wisdom and I felt something strange about the itch. After a really good tarot reading from my sister, she helped me clarify that weird itch to find things horrific.  Joy requires vulnerability, she said. And it is difficult to be vulnerable when you lack trust in life, down to a bone psychological level.  She helped remind me of how when I broke my arm in the summer before third grade, it was a traumatic experience for me that changed the psychology of me forever. I didn’t know this until this week, but apparently because I was a child, they couldn’t give me anesthesia and the two options for my very large break in my arm, was either preform surgery on me while I was very much lucid and awake or rearrange my bones back into place blindly so they wouldn’t have to make a cut on me. Somehow, the best bone doctor in Texas at the time just so happened to be at the hospital in El Paso and he chose to blindly rearrange my bones back into place. and he told my mom and my dad to watch the pain I was about to go through because it would change me forever. My sister stayed too because she is brave and loving and wanted to be there for me, even though she too was just a child. They always tell me about how traumatic it was for them to see me screaming in pain as he was rearranging my broken bones, and I remember just searing pain lmao I just remember it being hours of pain, as they made me twist my arms for X-Rays, and when they kept twisting my arm to put my bones back into place. Truly painful lmao  BUT point of the story is, I used to be a very active child before that, I was always running, playing music, I was always smiling and happily in my garden, I was a straight-A student in GT. And after that I wasn’t, and all the details to me don’t matter any more. (EVEN THO, I felt a little upset that my mom remembered how the doctor told her that I would be changed forever and my parents STILL screamed at me for hours when I stopped getting straight A’s, and couldn’t focus anymore. if the doctor told you I was changed forever, how come you still screamed at me for hours because I got a C? how come you literally told me: When you broke your arm, something got damaged in your brain, you must have hit your head and scrambled something, so try really hard to think what happened and change it, just change it. Go back to how you were. IDK I FEEL LIKE THAT KINDA CONTRIBUTED TO ME CUTTING AND HITTING MYSELF OUT OF FRUSTRATION, WOULDN’T YOU THINK? Like my sister summarized it the best, which was that they were holding me accountable, a child, for understanding the trauma I went through and working through it just so I could get the grades they wanted me to get. -___- BUT WHATEVER I AM LEARNING TO FORGIVE THEM FOR WHAT THEY COULDN”T UNDERSTAND THEN.) The beautiful thing I rather focus on, is after reminding me of this, my mom and my sister both cried and hugged me for a good solid ten minutes and kissed me, and told me that I don’t have to feel afraid anymore, that life isn’t what I feared it to be anymore, and that I am free and can be vulnerable to joy, and that is truly what I rather focus on than the past parents that didn’t know how to cope with what I had gone through.  My sister also reminded me of how I conveniently forgot how earlier this year I went to see a physical therapist finally for my knee which hurt me a lot and made me feel like I couldn't go hiking or any of the adventurous things I wanted to do bc it hurt too much and he straight up told me that it was all PSYCHOLOGICAL. Which was super wild for me to hear, because I think he’s right! lmao.  It reminds me of when I was a child, and I used to run out in my little garden in the sun all the time, and how sometimes I was suddenly forced to stop because I couldn’t move without feeling a lot of pain, and I would look down at my feet and I saw how all those thorned stickers were on my laces, my socks, my shoes and it hurt too much to move so I was just stuck. (Which makes me feel happy about that dream I once had where a large field beckoned me and I began running in its vastness barefoot, and I remember looking down and seeing a bunch of those thorned stickers and somehow missing every single one, and feeling so free.)  Anyhow, I resolved to allow myself to be vulnerable to go into joy, and that even with this psychological, bone deep memory of trauma happening when I move.  The day before yesterday, my sister made it aware to me that our betta Artemis has fin rot (mild) and I felt so in pain because of it. One thing I could never stand was seeing the people (or animals) I love in pain, and I’ve never acted on this impulse, but the first impulse I have when my sister tells me about a traumatic experience she’s had or I see my animals hurt is to say “NO! That’s NOT how you feel, this isn’t real.” BUt it’s so irrational to me, to say this, that I never act on it but I do have to convince myself by becoming more objective to handle the pain of seeing them in pain.  But I guess I have allowed myself to feel more vulnerable and more sensitive to life (I used to allow myself to be sensitive when I was a toddler but I was just so overwhelmed and my parents would yell at you if you cried so I just capped it.) But I’m letting myself be sensitive, so I did feel angry at my sister initially for telling me that Artemis had fin rot, and I felt very upset, but I let it be there and we researched how to heal it and took immediate action the next day and even though my sister was sensitive about it, and I was sensitive about it, we did a great job at getting everything we needed, staying calm and supportive of one another, and it just always surprises me how much me and my sister haven’t adopted the way my mom and dad do things which is screaming, and panicked and violent. (Well, we worked ourselves out of it through love and patience.)  But as we were driving to the pet store for the second time to get something else to help us out with Artemis’s tank, I told my sister about how allowing myself to feel the pain I felt at Artemis being sick, when I got home from the pet store this morning and went to say hello to my pug before getting started with my sister on deep cleaning his tank and getting salt in it to sterilize the wounds, I felt a much deeper and softer joy at hugging Qipsi and holding her in my arms and I realized that joy came from allowing myself to feel the pain of Artemis. That when I let myself feel the pain, it also let me feel the pull, the desire to tend to his tank, his little body and soul, his water much more diligently and the joy that arose in that, and it let me feel the pull and desire to tend to Qipsi more tenderly, and tend to myself more tenderly. And so pain, allowing the suffering allowed joy as well.  My sister told me about how she read or saw that when you allow yourself to feel the pain, you allow yourself to feel the pathway to the healing of it.  And that just shook me because I never looked at it like that. I always thought pain was useless, or was just to burn your ego, or just frustrating, but I see now how it led to more joy, it led to truer joy. How it led to truthful joy, and I never let it show me the healing. I was so afraid of pain, I never let it show me how to heal, I just hated how I was hurt to begin with. But if I could just focus my attention and the pathway to healing, and to feel the healing, the joy of it.  AND SO, here I stand, on the precipice of fate, on the road I am asking to help guide me to the purpose of my life, the highest good of my life, and I feel I understand what joy and pain truly are.  I asked God to lead me deeper into the garden of life, so that I may understand what I am here to provide, what of my highest good can I give back, and I was given clarity and courage. Clarity to understand the truth behind pain, the way it shines a path to the healing of you and me, to the healing of body and soul and courage to face the vulnerability that joy requires, that pain requires to open you to deeper joy, and so it goes.  I want to play and create and enjoy this sandbox of life. 

And I want cherry pie. 

Happy Fanfic Writer Friday (#FFWF)! Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

OMG THIS IS SUCH A GREAT ASK!!! 

Okay okay, because you basically gave me permission to ramble, this is gonna be so freaking long, but I’m doing it anyways, because I want to do every story that has it because I try to do stuff like this a ton, especially in multi-chapter stories!! 

Okay, I’m gonna focus on only AO3 stories this time, since those ones are the ones that really have a lot of this, and I’ll talk about them in order of most recently published/updated (though not all are included in this list because some are simpler than others lol). That said, spoiler alert for anyone who hasn’t read these stories. 

AO3:

Who Knew Birthdays Could Be So Complicated

My favorite thing about this story is that it’s based entirely on poking fun at the fact that so many MCU villains are only villains because Tony made them mad somehow, because I think it’s hilarious and I’m proud of how I was able to poke fun at it while still properly representing the beautiful relationship between Tony and Peter and their individual characterizations. 

This has a very subtle incorporation of Spideychelle, because it takes place after Endgame, but assumes Far From Home never happened, so Peter and MJ aren’t really a thing yet, but you can kind of tell they’re going to be if you take notice of the way they react both around each other and about each other in this fic. 

There’s also a very subtle incorporation of Happy/May for the same reason--Far From Home hasn’t happened (yet), so their relationship is only just starting to come to pass. It’s referenced through Tony and Peter’s suspicious/surprised reactions when Happy suddenly wants to be with May all the time. 

I love the way I made time pass in this fic. At once point, I transition between scene using a watch, and throughout the fic, the passing of time and the number of minutes are constantly mentioned to serve as a sort of countdown as events transpire, and it’s subtle, but I feel like it really helps follow the passage of time and make it all even more realistic. 

It was hard to figure out how to express this, so I’m not sure how many people actually caught this, but I loved how I subtly showed that Bruce wound up finding a way to reverse what he did before Endgame and bring himself back to his normal self in order to help the city better. 

There’s a really subtle reference to Peter’s sensory overload when Perceptivo starts talking about how he was able to grab Peter in the first place. He never finishes his sentence, but the reader and Tony get a sense of what he’s getting at. 

Everytime I write in adorable Peter and Morgan moments, I get excited about it, and this fic is no different. That said, I love the way their relationship is portrayed, even if it is brief. 

Lastly, I love what I did with the chapter titles for this story. The titles match up, outside to in. The first and last chapter parallel each other as general titles (”The Unexpected Surprise” and “The Real Surprise”). The second and seventh title both reference a phrase said/implied in the chapter (”Forty-Three Minutes” and “Unconditional Love”). The third and sixth titles chapter titles that summarize the chapter, with the sixth one being a Star Wars reference, because of course ;) (”Lost Sleep, Long Night” and “It’s a Trap”). And lastly, the fourth and fifth chapters are lines quoted by the Peter and Tony in their respective POV chapters (”I Need to Handle This on My Own” and “Dammit Kid”). I worked hard on those, and I’m so proud of how they lined up. 

Always and Forever

I love love love how the sibling relationship between Peter, Harley, and Morgan develops in this one. I love that Harley and Morgan have an established relationship through video, but there’s still a sense of distance there, and I love how Peter and Morgan have a pre-determined relationship because of the stories Tony used to tell Morgan about Peter, but he doesn’t want to overstep, so it creates distance. I love Harley and Peter knowing about and already respecting each other and then being able to actually get to know each other for real and everything that comes with that. I just love how these three slowly get to know each other, but in a way, they already knew each other so well that they’re basically already family. It’s exactly what I was shooting for, and I’m glad that it seemed to come out that way for readers and for my own self-analysis. 

I am also particularly proud of Morgan’s voice in this story. Peter and Harley, both being teenagers, were a little more natural, but Morgan, as a four-year-old, took some tweaking to perfect, but in the end, I really felt like I could hear the four-year-old innocence and hope and love and I felt like it lined up so well with everything else in the story as she comes to terms with everything that happened and works through it in the only way she can--with help. 

Most of the references/callbacks in this one are super obvious, but there are a couple that are more subtle. There’s a small reference to that “you’re a mechanic, why don’t you just build something?” scene in IM3 where Harley gets Tony out of a panic attack, and to Harley’s dad leaving him. There’s also a reference to Peter’s uncle dying when he mentions that he’s “been through it before”. I also included a little bit of subtlety in reference to the fact that Pepper never actually changed her name to Stark, canonically, and added the emotional element of it in the epilogue. 

Each of the objects/memories that the three kids hold close has a lot of symbolism and intent behind them, and they fit in with the chapter titles. In “Every Picture Tells a Story”, Peter’s memories are in pictures because of the picture of him and Tony in Endgame that made Tony invent time travel (it totally made him invent time travel don’t even try to fight me on it). It represents that timeline of events where Tony really truly had a kid with him that he could love and cherish and who loved and cherished him back, but in a way that never needed words--just actions and photographs. In “Reminders of How it Used to Be”, Harley’s memories are in his phone through text messages, because he and Tony always connected technologically, even from a distance. They initially bonded over fixing the Iron Man suit, and the idea that Tony continued to upgrade Harley’s tech into his later years fits really well into their relationship. Even though they were far away, they learned how to express how much they cared for each other through words and objects. Lastly, in “No Hugs are as Warm as Yours” Morgan’s memories are in a recording of her Dad, because Morgan was the one that Tony truly got his time with--the one that was truly his to cherish and hold that he would never let go of. After Peter, and with Harley’s distance, Morgan was the one that Tony was determined to love with everything he had, and in doing this, he gave her a piece of him every day, and she could always hold him close to her heart and have him do all the special things with her that only he could do. The recording of him, that’s small enough to clutch to her, but big enough emotionally to represent everything her father did for her, and shows a tiny part of something that only her dad does--a lullaby her mom doesn’t sing, and a lullaby he’s never sung to anyone else--is a great representation of the piece of his soul that Tony gave to his daughter, just by being her dad. Maybe I tried to read too much into all of that, but I thought those subtle little representations were really crucial to this story. 

Another thing I love that I tried to break down is that everyone had a different name for Morgan. As the precious little one who just lost her dad, she’s kind of the center of this story, in a sense. Harley and Peter bond over helping her through her nightmare, and that brings the three of them closer. Morgan makes Peter and Harley smile in the dark times, and they do the same for her. Morgan had the most to lose from this, because Tony was, theoretically, the only one she had, but the message of the story winds up being that he wasn’t, because she has all of these other people in her family too. Because of that, there’s a nice subtlety that I had where everyone has a different nickname for her, because everyone contributes to her story and her life in a different way. Pepper’s nicknames/terms of endearment for her are sweetheart and little miss; however, “little miss” is one that Tony used to use, so Pepper only started using it after Tony died (so...in this story). Tony’s other nickname for her, canonically, is Morguna. Then, Peter’s nickname for her is Morgs, and Harley’s nickname for her is Mo. Most of those only really appear once, but it’s a cute little characterization thing that I worked hard to include. 

Lastly, another method of symbolism in the chapter titles is their lengths and, again, parallelism. I already talked about the second, third, and fourth chapter titles, all of which are a little shorter and represent the different object symbols for the kids and their connection to Tony, but I also added some symbolism and parallelism with the first and last chapter titles. Both of those titles, because those chapters have the perspectives of all three children, are longer and include parenthetical statements. Additionally, the first chapter title represents a lot more distance: “It’s Hard to Say Goodbye (To What You Want Forever”. This ties in not only to the fact that Tony’s gone, but also to the fact that, in the first chapter, while all three kids’ perspectives are included, they’re separate and apart. But then the last chapter title, “I Can’t Solve All Your Problems (But I Promise You Won’t Face Them Alone), represents togetherness, which is exactly how that chapter winds up playing out--all three perspsecitves collide, and they wind up helping each other through the grief. Symbolic titles are always fun.

To An Amazing Big Brother

This one is filled with subtle references. Sam leaves ScoobyDoo on for Dean, referenced as a favorite of his several times canonically. Sam also mentions how Dean checks under the bed every night, which was supposed to connect to the scene where Sam tells Dean that his dad said the monsters under the bed weren’t real and Dean told him it’s because he already checked there. Dean’s grumpiness over the lack of bacon is based off of two scenes: the one where Dean’s mad that Sam won’t let him get bacon, and the one where Sam’s mad that Dean won’t buy veggie bacon. The fact that Dean keeps the journal close for the next twenty-eight years is a reference to that photo of Mary that he’s had since he was a kid that he brings with them everywhere. Dean mentioning that Sam had grown up so much in three years is supposed to reference the many times in the show that Dean mentions that he wished Sam could’ve been a kid longer. The candy bars and the Hot Wheel car as his birthday gifts represent how Sam gives him “fuel” for Dean and Baby as gifts in the Christmas episode, and the fact that Sam mentions that Uncle Bobby helped him with it is a reference to Bobby giving Sam the Samulet to give to John in the Christmas episode, which he eventually gives to Dean. Lastly, the birthday pie represents the many, many times Dean says he loves pie. So I guess that all ties into symbolism, references, and callbacks/clues for future scenes, but in any case, there are a lot of them. 

The other thing that comes into this is the symbolism of the photo album. The fact that it’s something Bobby put together shows how Bobby was always a true father for them (at least, in my opinion, but, I mean, come on, he was), and the fact that it takes place over several years and very rarely actually has Bobby in the photo just represents how much he got to watch them grow and how much he was there for them. On top of that, it represents Sam and Dean’s brotherly relationship for two reasons: first of all, it shows how they grew up together and basically never left each other’s side; second of all, the message Sam writes, “Thanks for always being there for me. I know I can always count on you.”, is a huge representation of everything Supernatural is and stands for when it comes to Sam and Dean’s relationship--they can always count on each other, no matter what. 

The Meaning of Christmas

There isn’t really that much in this one, but I did want to mention that I put a lot of research into making the locations as realistic as possible, so Ellen’s Stardust Diner and 7th Avenue are both real streets in NY popular for Christmas shows and Christmas lights, respectively. I don’t live in NY, so I don’t know how accurate any of that was, but I tried my best, and I feel like it worked. 

Training Session

This one doesn’t have anything too deep overall, but it does include a couple of Endgame references and one from Ant-Man. Morgan and Nat’s training with practicing punching was meant to loosely reference the Ant-Man training session between Hope and Scott--with the failed attempt, but slowly getting better. Harley and Clint training--with Clint adjusting Harley’s footing, Harley making it dead center, and Clint high-fiving him--were all references to Clint and his daughter shooting arrows in Endgame. Lastly, while this is pretty obviously an Endgame reference, Morgan does say “I (still) love you 3000”, and Tony says it back, so there is that. XD 

Wow! This was honestly kind of hard to break down, but also really fun! I’ve definitely gotten better at symbolism and references in recent months--most of these were a lot more recent, especially the ones with loads of commentary XD--but in general, I think my character development in pretty good, and I still try to incorporate as many things as I can, subtle or otherwise.

I hope this answered your question, and I’m sorry it’s so long, but this was really fun! Thank you so much for asking! <3

Please please PLEASE write a vamp!shiggy scenario!! I’m getting on my knees for you to give us something filthy and sexy, pleeaasseee LOV writing goddess pretty please!! 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

i was going to focus on my requests, i really was. and THEN i was going to stay to a similar train of thought to my mini-drabble, but,,, as per usual, my horney uwus got away from me and ran free. sorry about that. also, as per usual, tomura is lowkey yandere. again, i’m sorry

so yea i know i have other requests sent before this, but,,,,, vamp!shiggy is my KINK ok. as a writer its MY (w)RIGHT to do what makes my dicc hard!

(yandere?vampire!tomura) (f!reader) (NSFW) (2.9k) (AO3)

You were hopelessly lost, but going inside was still not your brightest idea. After all, horror movies tended to show such grand, majestic halls crumble under the weight of storms, like the one drowning you now for a reason. And as a rule of thumb, that reason could be summarized by ‘Do Not Enter: Danger Inside.’ But you were cold, your phone was dead, horror movies weren’t real, and there was a light on in the entryway. Taking your chances and questioning your luck, you went up to ring the doorbell.

All that came to greet you was silence.

Perhaps your first mistake was going camping in the forest out of the city in the first place, and perhaps your second was to hike out even when clouds filled the sky, but in your defense it was hardly the first time you’d done this, in fact it was a frequent passtime, and every other trip out had ended up just fine. You were familiar with these woods, familiar with the weather, and had never had reason to doubt in them; that’s what made the fact you were so hopelessly lost as to find an entire mansion in the woods that you had no knowledge of even more confusing.

If you could find this place there was no way you’d make it back to the campground, much less while weathering the storm which raged up above. Steeling yourself, you forwent the doorbell in favour of pounding on the door like the desperate, unfortunate soul you were.

“Excuse me, is anyone home? I noticed your light was on and was wondering if I could come use your phone, or maybe borrow a map?” You knocked again, louder in case you weren’t being heard over the thunder’s bellows. Just as your mouth parted to call out again, the door flew open in a gust of wind, gale nearly pushing you forward into the opened doors and causing you to trip, landing against a firm body which quickly let go of the door to steady your waist. The door shut behind you, and you tremble in the arms of a stranger.

God, this was so embarrassing. You barged into someone’s home, tripped onto them, and now just stood there, soaked from the storm. What are you even supposed to say in this situation? ‘Hello helpful stranger, nice home you got here? Love the gothic aesthetic, the whole ‘dark colours and crumbling marble’ thing you got going on. Do you have any tea or something so I can warm up?’ Fuck no, the situation was weird enough as it is! Biting your lip, you looked around to distract yourself.

Glancing across the foyer, you couldn’t help but notice how out of place you were. Hair plastered to your face and leading rivulets of rainfall to caress your face and down your neck, reaching the shirt which clung, soaked, to every curve and crevice of your chest and stomach. Even your pants and shoes were soaked, slowly forming a puddle on the grand tile flooring where you stood. Blushing, you quickly looked up into the eyes of the one who’d come to save you from the storm.

He was beautiful, but in the most confusing way. Pale skin covered in scars marring his otherwise almost delicate face, silver hair which seemed to glow blue in the candlelight - and why was this house lit by candles? It’s the 21st century, for crying out loud! Not that you mind the aesthetic - and fell in waves to frame his face and brush his broad, strong shoulders which tapered down into what you could feel against you to be a thin waist and surprisingly soft stomach. He was far from flawless, which only added to your interest.

Red eyes glowing bright as blood bore into your own, and you couldn’t help but question how such a colour was possible. Were they contacts, perhaps? There’s no way it could be natural. And there was something hypnotic about them, drawing you in, making you forget what you came here for and only wish you could stare into them forever, going deeper, discovering all the secrets lying in wait…

“I don’t suppose you’re going to say something, huh? I was busy before you came by and started being an annoyance, so at least a name would be nice,” despite his harsh words, his voice wasn’t as dark as you expected. If anything he sounded amused, almost fond. Which of course made no sense, since you’d never met, and clearly you were being an inconvenience by barging into his house like this, “I could always throw you back out in the storm, you know… I almost want to, just to hear you beg to be let back inside. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Letting out an undignified squeak of surprise, you quickly gave your name and apologized for causing an interruption, hoping his comment about throwing you out was simply a sign of a mean sense of humour. The red-eyed man smiled, carding fingers through your wet hair in what could be mistaken for an affectionate gesture. You shivered as his nails scratched against your scalp, almost making you relax against him even while you felt an urge to pull away.

Your name rolled off his tongue with ease, almost as if it was an already familiar shape in his mouth. But you’d only just met, so how could that be?

“You’re cute, so I suppose it’s alright if I have you stay a while.” He pulled back, clawlike grip still gentle as it trapped you in pace. “My name’s Tomura. I look forward to getting to know you.” Tomura’s grin was sharp, and there was something inhuman in the way it spread across his cheeks; you were too entranced to care.

“Tomura… I, thank you for-” You were interrupted by him walking back towards a hallway, dragging you along by the wrist and leaving you thoughtlessly tracing his footsteps. Before you knew it, you were in a change of scenery. It was an ornate room with cold stone floors and a grand yet threadbare bed with little reprieve from the chill from the stale air, shelves full of books and bottles and all manner of unusual - yet some uncannily familiar - trinkets and things, and no light to illuminate but the steady uncertain glow coming from a collection of screens on the other side of the room which appeared to be in some sort of pause-screen.

“You should- you should get changed, right? I can’t imagine those wet clothes are very comfortable.” And the way he looked at you wasn’t particularly comfortable either. Tomura’s voice was strained, and while you felt abnormally at ease for some strange reason, anxiety stabbed at your gut. But when you looked into his eyes, so bright and alluring, you couldn’t help but want to listen. After all, you did want to warm up, and the rub of wet cloth across your skin was undoubtedly annoying. Reluctantly, you nodded, quickly taking off your shoes before standing.

You moved to step back, asking if there was a bathroom for you to change, when he pulled you back against his chest. You froze as his cold form pressed up against your own.

“Shhhhh, let me help. You’re a guest, right? That means I get to take care of you.” Voice ragged and heavy with something you couldn’t quite understand, you froze as his hand reached under your shirt to pull it upwards. His trailing touch was like ice, and you wanted to flinch away, but his skin upon your back was just as harsh. Biting your lip, you tried to find it within yourself to push past the strange fog of curiosity and content that was swirling through your mind. Instead, you only let out a whimper and tilted your head back against his shoulder.

Tomura grinned, taking it as invitation to let his tongue roam your neck, the teasing graze of teeth quick to follow.

“You know, I’ve seen you before. Walking through the forest, acting all stupid and naive out there by yourself as if no one was watching…” his breath was chill on your neck, causing you to shiver from more than just his words, “so imagine how surprised I was to see you clawing at my door like a pathetic little wet cat begging to be let in. It’s almost like you wanted me to find you!”

Tomura pulled back, bringing your shirt over your head with the space reluctantly provided. The space gave you a moment to think, to wonder if you might be better off running back into the storm instead of in the arms of such a loose canon, but he pulled you closer while walking back towards the bed. The next you knew, you were shoved back to fall upon the aged cushion.

The chill air was electric between you, and as much as you were confused for the turn of events there was a large part of your mind preening unnaturally at the allure of Tomura’s lanky body hovering over you. When he smiled, teeth glinting sharp and bright in the low lighting, a thrill ran through your belly and progressively sank lower into your core. The way he stood so still, the sharpness inside his mouth, how his eyes glowed in the darkness, it all painted a picture of something dark and inhuman. Part of you still wanted to run, but Fuck, it was sexy.

“I don’t normally play with my food, but there’s something special about you. You don’t cower or fight back, not like those NPCs I usually deal with,” Tomura crawled over you, straddling your waist and mouth hovering above yours. There was burning in his eyes, a mix of desire and love-kissed, childlike curiosity, “and you’re a recurring character too! Playing your part of the perfect, sweet little innocent. Are you supposed to be the princess? It almost makes me want to steal you away and corrupt you.”

Tomura’s words were accentuated by fluttering kisses and roaming hands, one fondling the softness of your breasts, your stomach, while the other snaked towards your hips to pull pants down and out of the way. You only gasped in response to the unasked-for caresses, too caught up in the mounting desire and pleasant blank-mindedness it brought.

“Is that what you want? You want me to ruin you? Because I could… oh the things I could do to you!” Tomura giggled, the flash of his teeth again catching your eyes and you lay trapped beneath him, “I could kill you right here, and there’s nothing you could do to stop me.” This time his words were followed by a airy sigh, breath full of cruel elation.

“But I don’t want to kill you. No, that would be a waste, wouldn’t it? So I guess you’ll just have to wait for me to show you what’s gonna happen to you, aren’t you, pet? So soft and fragile, all at my mercy.” Lying still beneath him, frozen in some primal understanding your body knew but mind was lost on, your breath came quicker.

Fuck, this situation shouldn’t be so hot, should it? And yet heat continued to gather between your thighs, goosebumps growing on the skin exposed to the cold air and colder flesh of the man above you. When Tomura bends down to mouth at your neck, your arms weakly reached out to pull him closer, keeping him in place despite the danger.

It felt so good, so right; there was danger in each movement, you could feel death hovering over you, and yet there was nowhere you’d rather be in that moment than devoured by the red-eyed man holding your life in his hands. Rough lips dragging across sensitive flesh, tongue licking away the dampness of sweat and stormwater, keen teeth grazing skin which begged to be bitten, you were completely taken in by the feelings forced upon you. With each messy kiss gifted by his cruel mouth, a litany of moans left your own unbidden.

Soon his hands joined in exploring, groping everywhere he could find in earnest. Rough fondling of your breasts, claws dragging marks down your fluttering stomach, his lithe form parting your knees to settle between open thighs, his fingers dipping inside your folds to spread the wetness there with teasing movements, all of it was coming together alongside the lightheaded love-drunk pleasure started by his lips upon your neck.

When he moved up to meet you, finally placing his lips firmly on yours, you distantly noted the bitter kiss of blood on your tongue.

It was rough, desperate, starving; Tomura’s lips devoured yours in a frenzy which could only be sated by the eager moans of his name filling the space between your breath and his. Tongue exploring your mouth, he took until you had nothing left to give but pure surrender towards the pleasure he provided. Distantly, you could also feel the pain that came alongside it.

Tomura didn’t stop to breathe, only pulling away when you were on the verge of fading. As ragged breaths shook your chest, Tomura leaned back to take in the image of you beneath him. You couldn’t imagine what he was seeing, but the manic, gleeful look in his eyes, the wide smile across blood-stained teeth, made you flush and whimper and legs spread ever wider in need. Licking his lips, he eagerly freed his cock and crawled back down to place himself properly between your open legs.

“You’re so pretty like this. Open and powerless and all mine to use,” dick in hand, Tomura guided it to your soaked slit before teasingly dragging it along your folds to see you tremble and whine beneath him, “Yeah, mine. All mine.”

Tomura harshly pushed in with a groan, leaving you to cry out at the sudden fullness. Fuck! You could hardly think, struggling to focus as pleasure washed through a hazy pleasure-drunk mind.

“Tomura! Fuck, please, I-” Your voice broke into a moan as he thrust forward, lips going back to toy with your neck before trailing down to kiss and bite across your chest, your collarbone. His hands went back to fondling your breasts, inhuman moans leaving his lips as he reveled in the velvet heat around his cock, the plush softness within his hands, the addictive taste on his lips.

You could tell it was nearly too much, and he’d only just started; you were in no better shape, the pleasure building between your legs already reaching a height you’d never thought possible before Tomura had taken you into his arms and bed.

His hips thrusting hard enough to shake the bed, Tomura filled your body and mind, leaving nothing but need and pleasure and a foreign submissive devotion in his wake. You wanted to cum, you wanted to please him, you wanted him to want you and need you like you needed him- you needed him like you needed to breathe, like you needed to live, and yet all you could do is lie there and take what he forced upon you without even the energy to beg for more; fuck, you wanted more, you needed it, you needed him to fill you up completely, to mark you and own you like you belonged and all you could do was cry and bleed and moan his name and-

You came around him with a cry, drool running down your chin and eyes thick with tears as they rolled into your skull from the force of feelings washing over you and whiteness taking over your vision.

Tomura shuddered as you tightened around him, animalistic grunts and growls passing his blood-slicked lips, lovesick eyes glowing in the darkness. Fuck, he wanted to cum in you, to mark you inside and out until there was no denying his claim over you.

“Perfect, you’re being such a good little slut for me, princess. You feel so good, fuck, I’m gonna mark you up so you’re all mine, gonna use you until you can’t take any more and fall apart for me, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Break you and own you and, you’re mine, all mine-” His words bled together, too lost in the way your slack body was still so warm around him.

Tomura came with a yell, hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises and cum filling your cunt until his dick grew soft and mind came down from his high of lust and obsession.

Pulling out with a sigh, Tomura grinned at the sight of you laid out and drained on the newly blood-soaked mattress; his cum was leaking from between your legs just as blood was slowly leaking from the healing puncture wounds on your neck, both so lovingly gifted from him to you. He truly didn’t plan to take you before this, but seeing such an intriguing little human come to his doorstep was too hard to resist, and now Tomura knew he made the right decision. You were something precious, and he wasn’t about to waste such a rare offering.

“So sweet… I think I’m going to keep you.” Tomura’s voice was bright with amusement, possessive affection breaking through in a mockery of care. Holding you close against him in the too-big bed made for none, the pale man lifted your chin to make lips meet. Too drunk on his taste and touch, you let him. You were afraid; you were at peace. It was intoxicating.

Lightheaded from the taste of blood on your tongue, you began to get lost in his arms.

BLOOD TIES - Kamidogu Meta 

In the Red Dragon Temple somewhere in China (near Linxia), Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang) attempts to steal retrieve the Kamidogu Dagger for Lord Raiden. He is interrupted by Kano, as the Curse of the Kamidogu corrupts the cryomancer, giving him the character-defining scar on his right eye. After Kano comments about the nature of the Kamidogu Dagger, that Kuai Liang will be possessed by the Blood Code and for the curse to be broken, he would just have to kill himself - the possessed. Kuai Liang not only throws a frigid haymaker on Kano’s right hand - where his cyberized eye lays - but rips the device out and escapes. At this point, Kuai Liang would have only recently come back from being cyberized as Cyber Sub-Zero (LK-520), but as a Revenant of the Netherrealm alongside Scorpion also. The concept of death and his mortality is a double-edged sword, yet no panic sets in as Sub-Zero escapes, bloodied and corrupted. The agonizing whirlwind of the innocents who had died as their flesh becoming translucent, and being shattered like glass shards continue to haunt him again. 

It also showcases Kuai Liang’s stamina and resilience as a human cryomancer, capable of not only overwhelming Kano, who had been unmarred and having been in such advantageous position over him, but his unsurpassed cryomancy as well. As a hybrid of a Cryomancer and human, Sub-Zero controls the power of ice and cold effortlessly. He can generate cold ice by absorbing the surrounding air and releasing it as cold energy to freeze water vapor. By using his powers and creativity, he can create ice constructs of varying purposes, weapons being an example out of many. 

Meanwhile, as Hanzo Hasashi and Takeda Takahashi pushes on for the Sky Temple, they camp close as Hanzo witnesses the streaking lightning, along with the clouds that get too close. Corrupted Raiden comes crashing down from the skies, knocking Hanzo off his feet and electrocuting him, spilling the doctrines of the Blood Code. When Takeda interrupts and stabs Raiden from the back, Raiden also zaps him. 

In the Himalayas a few weeks ago, Hanzo contradicts what Takeda says as hellfire being not a style, but his curse; hellfire is a burden he has carried since the day everything changed for him. He sites that the last seconds of his life passed like hours, as the massacre of the Shirai Ryu was an outrage, but it was nothing compared to what his eyes held in those final moment. His beautiful family, frozen, as the village blazed around the Hasashi family. Hanzo prayed that ice would thaw, he prayed not to the Gods, but to the fire itself, for Harumi (Kana), his wife and Satoshi (Jubei), his innocent child. He died, but his soul kept praying for fire until Quan Chi answered. Fire did not burn him, and Quan Chi never controlled him, he was never his Revenant, but a volunteer; for his loss had become a fire within, and the dark sorcerer only stroked the flames with promises of justice and vengeance. 

Hellfire consumed my heart, my name, and my conscience. 

An Anti-Villain is the opposite of an Anti-Hero — a character with heroic goals, personality traits, and/or virtues who is ultimately the villain. His desired ends are mostly good, but his means of getting there range from evil to undesirable. Alternatively, his goals may be selfish or have long-term consequences he doesn’t care about, but essentially, Hanzo is a good person who might even team up with the hero if their goals don't conflict. In terms of personality, Hanzo Hasashi is shown to be kind-hearted and can be caring and honorable in nature, even towards their enemies, but it can be possible for them to treat their own allies with rudeness, which by its own accord, is a very unusual trait to possess. Moreover, compared to regular villains that are just simply evil, anti-villains are often neutral - depending on the writers of said characters. Those that are part of the neutral alignments however, aren't exactly benevolent, but they aren't malevolent either. As Scorpion, the Netherrealm’s hellspawn spectre, he would find vengeance, but not justice. The fire remained, and he would keep fighting, even after his life was restored. 

"Long is the way, and hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light."

Hanzo Hasashi is an atoner, who thinks he doesn’t deserve a second chance, after all the murders he’d committed willfully, a suicide in the form of hara-kiri. As in Japanese culture, traditionally suicide can be done to cleanse one's honor, as Hanzo would have struggled with the demons in his mind (Scorpion), swaying his temperaments, which makes him The Wild Card - who is a character so used to swinging between teams that they have no default "good" or "evil" character alignment or even a "home team." He truly is not interested in consistently remaining with either side, and will very often simply want both to leave them alone. He is the sort of person who will stay out of things entirely, until someone else (usually the hero or other sympathetic character) asks him for help (in this case, Raiden and Kenshi, who is ‘a wise man’ in the story, who saw Hanzo’s hellfire for what it was). 

Kenshi Takahashi was who saw through Hanzo’s shame, pain, loss that he couldn’t ever lose. And Hanzo still has to relive the moment of his own death when wielding hellfire, and has to risk destroying himself all over again every single time. Hanzo’s recovery would have been ungraceful, and feeling ephemeral, even as his grief and remorse claws at his throat. He wishes he could clam up his emotions and keep them safe, but he tends to wear his emotions on his sleeves as his hot-tempered impulsiveness and always choosing fight over flight when Hanzo’s own survival mechanism, enabling him to react quickly to life-threatening situations with offense, instead of defense. 

Hanzo completely dominates Raiden, even when Raiden is a demigod, obviously canonically proven to be stronger than him. Not only Hanzo blames Raiden for destroying the Second Shirai Ryu and killing Takeda, but the act of giving the Kamidogu Dagger to himself as well. It serves as Hanzo’s berserk button, which is one type of trigger, where the response to a minor or generally insignificant thing is one of extreme anger. That is, engaging the trigger turns an ordinary character into the berserker. The Berserker is a character who throws himself into a fight with such reckless abandon, it seems like he wants to die. It could be over-enthusiasm, overconfidence, unstoppable rage, or the desire to die (in battle). Whatever the cause, it's usually accompanied by a bellowing warcry (Hanzo’s characteristic baritone). Sometimes with total obliviousness to whether he's actually fighting the enemy.

And he never, ever retreats. This is only amplified by his paternal instincts towards Takeda, as agonizing pain and torment of losing too many continues to fuel his feral viciousness towards Raiden. All of this could be accumulated and summarized as love, which breaks the barriers between bodies and perhaps minds, as ouroboros of life and death encircles and becomes a repeated loop. He still manifests himself as a ghost, haunted by his own memory, bound to relive moments as if they are a means of a way out. The one shot at Hanzo’s own freedom and yet, still blinded enough to believe only in his tenacious, unyielding and resilient will that keeps him going all along, as Gods only exist to mess and ruin the course of his life and perhaps fate. 

Hanzo only stops his onslaught and assault when he finds out Takeda’s alive. Hanzo also doesn’t ever hold himself from speaking his mind, saying that Raiden WILL heal Takeda back to health with Jinsei - the Earthrealm’s life force - as Takeda fights for his life. The Kamidogu relates back to Shinnok’s Amulet; for the daggers serve as the keys, and each Kamigodu blade tested the blood of the one being, as its essence dwells within them. Raiden, in tne end, apologizes for not revealing the true nature of daggers’ perilous nature, as the Thunder God did not foresee a demon corrupting the blood magik. Raiden informs Hanzo that all of the other Kamidogu are accounted for, except the one stolen many years ago, which Sub-Zero happens to be in the possession of, as he has been corrupted with the Blood Code. Hanzo makes a promise that he will find Sub-Zero, dead or alive. 

"I knew I couldn’t kill them. More powerful men than me have tried. But if I could get them to kill each other …"

This only draws timeless stigma that has been rampant throughout the Mortal Kombat lore, as when Raiden shows up, people are bound to be dead (as proven with so many kombatants, including Liu Kang, Kung Lao and Hanzo Hasashi throughout the games), as Sub-Zero’s near-death which will come later in the comics, along with Hanzo and Kuai’s bitter rivalry, extended beyond as even with Hanzo’s resurrection, the bitter feud between Scorpion and Sub-Zero extends to their human counterparts, as this event takes way before MKX storyline. Fate had already been unkind to them, as they both turned evil, lest one was a volunteer, and one held at dark sorcery without volition. 

"It's difficult in times like these: ideals, dreams and cherished hopes rise within us, only to be crushed by grim reality. It's a wonder I haven't abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart."

On the other hand, this continued rivalry may become a precursor that shows the unfurling events of the future, where they would develop a genuine friendship with the hero and perform a heel-face turn somewhere down the line. For Hanzo Hasashi’s morality was never at tabula rasa; for his intrinsic temperaments weren’t evil to begin with, as they both were pawns in Quan Chi’s malignant scheme to pin them forth as mortal rivals with misconstrued understandings.