"I know this place. They built it for me."

Transitions: The Spackle of Art!

The other day I wrote some transitional passages for Galaxy Federal, connecting two preestablished scenes.

Transitional passages are like the mortar and spackle of artistic construction. They're necessary, but forever peripheral. (Though I suppose there probably are some artists who thrive in it.) For me though, writing transitional matter is an uncommon state. It doesn't come nearly as naturally to me as main scene-writing does, and I spend a lot less time doing it. When I was writing the Prelude, a lot of it also came very late in the process, as a necessity rather than a pleasure in itself. It was quite a challenge, worthy of boasting of my skill as a professional author, for me to elevate this text to make it interesting and compelling. (In my opinion anyway.)

This transcends my writing and reflects my entire personality: In composing music, I always struggle with my transitions between the prominent melodic sections. In listening to music of all genres, I almost always much prefer the main sections over the transitions. Same with reading books, watching movies, etc.

But because of its relative alienness to me, I also have a certain fascination with transitional passages. I tend to notice them, and I appreciate them when they are especially well-done. Some are so subtle and well-integrated that you can scarcely see them. Other transitions are much bigger, but necessarily worse.

Such was the space I found myself working in the other day: This particular transitional passage calls for thousands of words of text, and I obliged two-and-a-half thousand on my first pass, during which time I got to show all sorts of things happening! My highly granular, ground-level, play-by-play scenes—which comprise most of my main scenes as compared to the less common "40,000 foot narrative epic view" type—tend to flow slowly. But in a transitional passage, hours can pass in the space of a single sentence. Whole conversations can be clipped to one or two lines of dialogue. Environmental descriptions can show the progression of time rather than a moment in time. It's quite literally a change of pace for me, most of the time.

I tried to use this quality to flesh out the fact of "Cherry being a starship captain." I am greatly interested in the nitty-gritty of this; I seek to incorporate a lot of verisimilitude into the text. Virtually all editors, and most writers, would single stuff like this out as the poster child for bloated text that needs to be edited down for tightness and pacing. But I firmly reject that. I really just want to write stories about people "at the office," proverbially speaking. I think the criticism that this kind of stuff isn't interesting is true, but only provisionally: It depends upon the underlying activities themselves being boring, and/or the writer not being great at writing them.

In that sense, action and "PLOT" are a crutch that many writers depend upon to cope with limited writing skills. We've all met people in our lives who are so intrinsically interesting and good at telling stories that they could literally describe an hour of washing the dishes and we'd be hanging on their every word. We've all been there! This is a real thing.

I, myself, am not actually all that good as a yarn-spinner, bard, or anecdotist. But what I lack in a talent for gripping storytelling I hope and aspire to make up for with the stories themselves just being intrinsically interesting. I've seen other writers pull this off. If the subject matter is interesting, the writer doesn't have to be a great anecdotist.

So the question in this particular case is: Is being a starship captain...interesting?

And my answer to that is: "Yes and no, in all the ways you would expect, but to some extent it doesn't matter because no one actually writes about starship captains having 'a regular day at the office.'" The normalcy of starship captains' jobs is always being interrupted by PLOT. So it's actually quite rare to get to see a captain walking around doing regular stuff at length. That rarity gives me more room to depict realities that perhaps wouldn't be interesting to read about in every sci-fi book over and over again as a convention of the genre, but definitely would be interesting to read about at least a few times.

I put it to you that you probably don't know what a starship captain actually does in normal circumstances. You could logically deduce some of it, but have you ever really seen it play out (in fiction, obviously)? I think that would be enjoyable to read about, at least every once in a while.

Well, the transitional passage that I started writing this week definitely adds some more spackle to that curious edifice!

a thought that's occurred to me, my portrayal of marisa has very much changed and evolved from when I've first started writing her. with the secret commonwealth, the collectors, the la belle sauvage play and especially the bbc adaptation of his dark materials coming out, all of these coming out after I've started playing marisa first in 2008. (not here, I've written marisa on several different platforms before tumblr, I've only been writing her here since 2016) but yeah it's strange sometimes to think about how differently I write her now.

but at the same time, with all of this now canon media that's been released about her, as well as my own headcanons changing and adapting to this new canon information, of course my adaptation is going to change and evolve. now I can't definitively say that it's for the better or the worse but it has definitely changed, and I still try to be as respectful to her canon as possible while also taking her in directions that I feel make sense for her character.

ted talk about marisa and my characterization of her below:

while yes she is a definite blend of all canon media of her, I have to admit that she's made up of a lot of the bbc adaptation. I know that in some circles that portrayal of marisa is controversial because it makes her "softer" and "more humanized" and I kinda agree but I also don't necessarily see that as a bad thing. but then again I've always preferred villains that are more multifaceted than just, they're straight up evil. and even in the original trilogy, my personal belief is that it was never the case with marisa then either.

in the golden compass/northern lights, we see marisa almost exclusively through lyra's eyes and we only see her for a few chapters. imo she is built up as someone purely evil for the sake of the narrative. we start to see cracks in this as we start to see more of her perspective in the subtle knife, but we also learn more about her motives, even if only in snippets. though we don't get the full character depth we know her most for until the amber spyglass, which is when we really start seeing things from marisa's perspective, seeing previous events from her perspective, and seeing her actually grow and change as a person. from everything we learned about her character in the amber spyglass, and including that line from mary "words like good and evil describe actions, not people" that's not the exact quote but that's what she says in less words, I think it was pullman's intention to express that marisa, as well as many other characters in his books, aren't entirely evil and aren't entirely good, and even not evil or good. that they're just people. but he seems to show us in great detail that this is especially the case of marisa.

she does so many both evil and good actions throughout the trilogy, as well as so many both evil and good intentions and motivations throughout the trilogy. I don't think making marisa out as dehumanized and purely evil was ever pullman's intention. for me I see further proof of this when we got la belle sauvage, when we learn of marisa being sa'd in her youth, of the usually fearless marisa being so physically terrified at being told that gerard bonneville was looking for her, when we got the secret commonwealth where we see that marisa had an absolutely fucking horrible mother, and no we don't know all the details of these things, but the pieces are there. another element that I feel is proof of this is that pullman has been both incredibly supportive of the bbc adaptation, as well as heavily involved in its creation. he's credited as an executive producer, a lot of things went through him for approval. also, pullman has said time and time again that his favorite character of this series is marisa coulter. I truly don't think he would approve of the way she's portrayed in the series if he didn't actually see it as her, if he agreed with some of the sentiments saying that the adaptation "ruins her character by humanizing her".

honestly I feel like the bbc adaptation gave marisa the depth that pullman wanted to give, but at the time was focused more on the main narratives in the first two books, but then we got to the amber spyglass, where so much of the novel is focused on giving marisa that same level of depth and, yes, humanization. honestly the bbc adaptation to me feels like an extension of that depth shown in the amber spyglass, and it's one that clearly pullman is approving of.

the other thing I've seen is the complaint that because she's so humanized in the bbc adaptation, it belittles and erases what evil actions she has done. I disagree. I personally have seen with most people who do these evil actions, realistically, that person usually does think that they're doing the right thing, that they are acting with what they see are good intentions, that they have reasoning for why they're doing what they're doing, and of course that doesn't make any of their actions okay.

what does, however, make their actions at least possible to forgive, is character growth. learning from mistakes, changing ways, doing better, which is what we see marisa doing in the amber spyglass. though another argument I see is that, it says in the amber spyglass that marisa is remorseless but in the bbc adaptation, we see marisa showing remorse, and to that I argue; those times in the book, that is said/thought about her, by other people. they believe her to be remorseless. from what I can think of, we never truly get a statement either spoken or thought by marisa herself that she truly doesn't feel remorse for her actions. we get asriel's inner thoughts, will's inner thoughts and I think at some point lyra's inner thoughts about how she doesn't feel any sort of guilt or remorse, but never marisa's own.

I would argue that we also see her showing remorse in the amber spyglass. her thinking about her crimes, her saying how awful her crimes were, which is not something she did in the first book. she never would've called them crimes, she called them her saving humanity, her trying to do good. but in the amber spyglass, she specifically calls those same actions crimes. I just don't think a completely remorseless person would express the way she did about how truly horrible her actions were. she also audibly lamented her mistakes with lyra, even as far back as saying that she and asriel should've raised lyra themselves.

in the scene that is usually the biggest argument of marisa being this truly evil, remorseless person, is the scene where metatron is examining marisa, where he tells her about every horrible thing she's ever done, how horrible of a person she is, etc. we also see both in marisa's inner thoughts and in her aloud dialogue to asriel that marisa was actively trying to convince metatron that there wasn't a shred of good in her, for the purpose of her being able to trick him into thinking she was evil enough to be able to betray her child and her lover. that's the key here. she was internally doing her absolute best to shove down any shred of goodness she had, any amount of remorse, her love for lyra, her love for asriel. and surprisingly what a lot of people leave out when talking about that scene, is moments later, metatron literally sensing regret from marisa. he tells her that it's regret that she would never get to see lyra grow up, and ofc she lies her way out of it and claims its regret about not meeting him earlier in her life, which he accepts. which, personally, I feel like if he knew the reason behind her regret as a fact, he wouldn't have. so my guess? he was deciphering why she felt regret and that's what made the most sense, but he had enough doubt in this to believe marisa's lie about the actual reason.

so honestly I feel that could mean that this regret could extend to a lot of things, definitely with lyra, but I could argue that her regret was encompassing the fact that she did do all of those things that metatron said, she was that way before, and does feel regret and guilt for it. and honestly I think she came to feel that way through loving lyra, through seeing and learning from her, from lyra pointing out the flaws in her previous logic, from lyra telling her about how awful her actions were, lyra being this beautiful human being that marisa herself defends as someone brave, generous and loving. and I think that really had an effect on marisa, making her want to be better, to be more like lyra, which I think we see is definitely true in the bbc adaptation, or if nothing else, at least making her feel remorse and guilt for all of the things she's done. I think we see that in the amber spyglass, I really do.

I mean it was the amber spyglass that completely changed my opinion on marisa as a character. believe it or not, when I first read the golden compass, and then first read the subtle knife, I didn't trust marisa, I didn't like her, I thought she was cool and mysterious but I absolutely saw her as this wicked, evil bitch. and then I read the amber spyglass, and there was a change of perspective, I went through ups and downs of wondering if I could trust her, wondering if she was being sincere, and it actually turned out that she was. that she was genuinely so loving of lyra, genuinely going through character development, and also so many actions and statements here put previous actions and statements into a different perspective for me. I went from rooting against marisa to rooting for her, to emphasizing with her, to seeing her as, yes, humanized. the amber spyglass did that first, not the bbc adaptation. the bbc adaptation took that humanization and expanded upon it, showing her perspective and scenes that we didn't see in the golden compass and the subtle knife but ones that absolutely make sense for her character.

another argument I saw was that marisa being portrayed as a woman being oppressed by a sexist society is an invention by the bbc adaptation to further humanize marisa, to which I'm just like ????? go read the books again honestly. the first book especially talks about how big of a deal it was that marisa was the first ever woman accepted as a member of the royal arctic institute, and an even bigger deal that she was the first woman accepted as a member of the magisterium. in the original trilogy, we only ever see women in england as nurses, nuns, or any other non male dominant field besides scholars (who are only allowed to be so at st. sophia's college for women) and the one female reporter. and it's such a big deal that marisa is accepted into the magisterium as an actual member vs being in it as a nun or a nurse is because the magisterium time and time again is shown to view women as generally lesser. the golden compass also talks about how marisa's affair went down, how it was even a question of whether or not asriel had committed murder or self defense when marisa's husband aimed to kill asriel and their child, the court's argument of why asriel should be charged for murder instead of self defense was legitimately "edward had the right to defend the violation of his wife" despite marisa's relationship with asriel being consensual, because they legit don't see wives as autonomous people, they saw marisa as property of edward, that he apparently had every right to defend by possibly murdering her lover and their child. and that's just the first book. we see so many more examples of patriarchy and marisa (as well as other female characters in the series) being subjected to it throughout the entire trilogy. so to the person who said the bbc adaptation just made that shit up. yeah no, I'm saying with my full chest that you're wrong.

so idk yeah. my adaptation of marisa does feel regret, she does have the self hatred that we see her experiencing in the bbc adaptation, this self hatred being based on a scene we actually got in the movie that pullman has stated that he loves and approves of this scene of marisa striking her daemon as a means of self punishment and says makes absolute sense for her character, combined with it being based on another scene we get from the golden compass novel, (and honestly, we see her experiencing this same self hatred in the amber spyglass as well), she does have genuine love for lyra which we see time and time again in the original trilogy, from in the golden compass marisa putting her own ass on the line by taking lyra in, and then later saving lyra from the intercision machine, to the subtle knife where she goes through such lengths to find and save lyra, to the amber spyglass, where she gives up literally everything she's ever worked for in order to save lyra, even including sacrificing her life to save her, and yes, she does try being a better person starting from, what I feel is mid to late the golden compass after failing so hard with lyra and regretting it. I know some people disagree with this kind of portrayal of marisa, not because anyone personally told me this, although I'm kinda surprised I haven't gotten anons about it or anything, I've just seen people talking about how they think the bbc adaptation is insulting to her original canon, and I just really disagree with that. I think everything I've described here does have a canon basis in pullman's books, both the original trilogy and the side books featuring marisa, and my opinion is further cemented to me by philip pullman himself approving of the bbc adaptation.

Convince me to read tgf

apologies for this taking so long, i had to leave for archery like right as you sent it-

BUT HERES MY PITCH

donna tartt’s writing style is SO beautiful. it’s elegant in the same way that pre 1900s writing is, but far less verbose and a lot easier to read.

theo is genuinely SUCH an interesting main character. he’s an unreliable narrator, which means there’s loads to unpack relating to dissecting whether or not something he describes is actually happening the way he thinks it is or not. funsies!!

boris is such a complex character as well, and though he’s not in the book constantly, the times that he is are so so fun djsodbwkc

it’s gay. it’s so so gay. but like in a subtle way? but like not subtle at all.

the relationship between art and the entire them of the book is *chefs kiss* INCREDIBLE. it’s so beautiful and well thought out, and it makes my silly little art lover heart scream <3333

SO MUCH TO ANALYZE!!!!! (and really fun to annotate too)

more than anything i was relieved that in my unfamiliar babbling and wanting to talk state, i’d stopped myself from saying the thing on the tip of my tongue, the thing id never said, though we both knew it well enough without me saying it there to him on the street- which was, of course, i love you

continuing my point above (yes i know the quote by heart WHAT ABOUT IT), it’s SUCH a good book for quotes if that’s your kind of thing. i mean, i’m not even a big quotes person but i still have so so many from tgf that i love and are so special to me <334

JAN 2023.

9th. The Haunting of 13 Olúwo Street, Suyi Davies Okungbowa. beautiful, gentle, patient and concise. in a genre so often "revolutionized" by plot twists and development of ideas away from the root, it does feel revolutionary to tend to one concept with infinite kindness and depth.

29th. Armless Maidens of the American West, Genevieve Valentine. A pretty nice follow-up to 13 Olúwo Street, sharing a core theme of kindness making the changes that voyeuristic curiosity never can. The idea haunts me constantly, and feels like perfectly plausible urban legend.

29th. On the Banks of the River Lex, N K Jemsin. Re-read. I liked this one more on revisit, not for any faults of the story but because I was unused to short stories that focus more on describing one slice of a moment than on interpersonal plot. I like this incarnation of Death.

29th. The Only Friend You Ever Need, M Shaw. Re-read. This one jarred me to get into, but I don't hate the concept. I'm not a fan of the protagonist but I am a fan of the monsters in this and the repercussions of his actions which balances it out. Not a fave, but solid despite it.

29th. Paper Menagerie, Ken Liu. Re-read. Deserved every award it won and then some. This one never fails to reduce me to useless tears. I don't know what else to say here. The magic is beautiful and grounded and kind. Ken Liu is a master of emotional patience and empathy.

FEB 2023.

??. The Queen of Atlantis, Sarah Rees Brennan. Re-read. This is one of my two favorite fantasy shorts ever written. Everything about it is so quintessentially childlike in tone without ever flinching from its topic or message. Foreshadowing is subtle and holds up impeccably on revisit, and this story has made me cry before. Impeccable.

??. The Worth of Crows, Seth Dickinson. Re-read. Yes, of Baru Cormorant fame, although I discovered this short before that. This one is less iconic in concept, but sticks with me more. Possibly because it is 🍊s favorite piece of short fiction. Possibly because I love necromancy done kindly.

??. Bread and Circus, Genevieve Valentine. Re-read. This one is less of a favorite of mine, but it helps give depth to her previous entry on this list from January. As ever, the human element shines relentlessly above the more by the book depictions of small social miseries.

??. More Full of Weeping Than You Could Understand, Rosamund Hodge. Re-read. God, I adore this one. Nothing does changelings well in the way this one does. They work too hard on making the fairy motives translatable, instead of presenting them as obvious fact.

??. The Prince's Shadow, Emily M Z Carlyle. Re-read. Always a beloved favorite right next to my unfindable white moonlight about a wizard after the war. The love between them is unflinching and locked tight. I love courts and I love when people don'f eschew society to cottagecore up.

??. Silk And Shadow, Tony Pi. Re-read. Absolutely insane. This is what people keep telling me grishaverse is. It's perfect. The universe is lush, the prose unflinching, the tragedy beautiful. I personally did not want the ending of inception to be hashtag solved, and the ending of this isn't.

MAR 2023.

N/A. I was ill and I was not well also. I played lots of games and re-watched giant chunks of Nirvana In Fire. I came into this knowing my reading was slowing down as my cognitive health got worse over the last year and part of that is being patient to myself on bad months.

APR 2023.

??. Remembering Light. Marie Brennan. Re-read. I'm so glad this author returned to Driftwood after the initial short had me haunted for days. This one was far more reasonable and simply reduced me to tears multiple times. The prose is steady, the worldbuilding fascinating, and the concept unlivably tender. Masterclass in short fiction.

??. The Bone House. James Lecky. Re-read. There's a different story I always try to find, and search resolutely insists that it was this one and I just forgot or misremembered some parts. Maybe so. I'm honestly less invested in the protagonist's inner struggle as I am very very interested in his father and his girlfriend, both of whom did more with less.

??. Our Dead Selves Lie Like Footsteps In Our Wake. Jeff Isacksen. Re-read. God. This was insane. The magic system is beautiful, the world feels bright and lush, and I know these people as intimately as if we were stood in the same room together. The story builds without mercy to a breaking point, but the relief is palpable and lovingly rendered.

??. And Her Eyes Sewn Shut With Unicorn Hair. Rosamund Hodge. Re-read. This honestly deserves a place alongside Queen of Atlantis for the work it does at re-writing childrens fantasy hallmarks to their own end. This time it is Narnia, or more specifically Tash, who gets folded into a new story that grabbed my neck and will not let it go.

??. Ghostweight. Yoon Ha Lee. Re-read. Finally a Clarkesworld entry! I love sci-fi that builds itself on a different cultural foundation because I love seeing what is so taken for granted that it becomes a cornerstone of a new world. This universe exemplifies that with the kites, and the characters are heartbreaking and complicated without reserve.

.

Sigh... *cracks knuckles*

Okay, here we go.

Like probably most of the LGBTQ+ community, J.K. Rowling was my idol, so yes, I have a lot of feelings.

Harry Potter is problematic. No arguments about that. The fandom itself, its creator, everything just has that small bit of xenophobia, homophobia, racism, etc... And sure, you can blame the time period it was written, but this woman is horrible in 2022 and if being kicked out of the HP Reunion on New Years Eve 2022 didn’t convince you how bad she is, I don’t know what will.

Obviously, the only openly gay character within the Harry Potter series is Albus Dumbledore who, spoiler alert, dies. He was also extremely problematic in how he treated and “raised” Harry. Fans tend to use the term “like a pig for slaughter” which sums it up pretty well.

And when I say “openly gay”, I mean Rowling was asked in an interview at Carnegie Hall in 2007 about Dumbledore’s sexuality, to which she responded she “always thought of Dumbledore as gay”. This was only after the release of her final book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows which many fans have seen as just an afterthought, basically pandering towards reaching a wider audience, as if she needed more attention.

In the last few years, she has really been pushing that Dumbledore and Grindelwald had a romantic relationship which is considered canon, but doesn’t make it feel any less forced.

Not only this, but Rowling has been shown in most recent years as being extremely transphobic.

One example of many from her twitter:

“If sex isn’t real, there’s no same-sex attraction. If sex isn’t real, the lived reality of women globally is erased. I know and love trans people, but erasing the concept of sex removes the ability of many to meaningfully discuss their lives. It isn’t hate to speak the truth.” Source

Many of the actors from the HP movies since these tweets have showed their support for the trans community and have spoken out against Rowling. Some of these actors include Daniel Radcliffe (Harry Potter), Rupert Grint (Ron Weasley), Emma Watson (Hermione Granger), and Bonnie Wright (Ginny Weasley) among many others.

A quote from Radcliffe:

“Transgender women are women. Any statement to the contrary erases the identity and dignity of transgender people and goes against all advice given by professional health care associations who have far more expertise on this subject matter than either Jo or I.” -Daniel Radcliffe, The Trevor Project

There have also been claims of Rowling villainizing the transgender community within the Harry Potter universe itself, specifically with the character Rita Skeeter. The character is described as having a “heavily jawed face” and “mannish hands”, as well as fake nails, hair, and teeth. The fact that she is portrayed this way, is an enemy to Harry (a smaller one but still an enemy), and that she spies on young children further proves this subtle hint towards Rowling’s beliefs on the transgender community.

And don’t try to argue the fact that “but she made Ron transgender”. That’s bs and you know it. She never intended that, she was just pandering again, just like how she did with Dumbledore. Source

Let’s talk about tropes. I’ll be honest, I didn’t closely follow the ‘do you like these tropes in books’ discourse beyond seeing that there was some back and forth about it with some decent points on each side. But I didn’t see anything addressing some of the large questions about how we analyze narrative and how the tools we use affect what we perceive in the text. So let’s do that. One thing I know is that no matter what I post on Tumblr it won’t be as out there as that rant about Catra and Calvinism (which remains probably the most accurate reflection of what talking to me IRL is like, as @highladyluck can attest). But fuck it, let’s talk about The Owl House, Jane Austen, TV Tropes and how we perceive narratives.

So I watched the Owl House and I liked it. It’s a whimsical, fun and good-hearted show with an adorably sinister aesthetic and at its best, an undercurrent of melancholy that I really love. Like a lot of folks, I like Lumity. They’re 14 year olds, they are gay, they have a fun dynamic and they’re cute in a ‘oh those crazy kids’ kind of way that people my age feel about a lot of younger people but especially teenagers, who are self-conscious and adorable balls of Awkward (why yes, the character I most identify with is Eda, why do you ask?). But one thing that surprised me about Lumity actually watching the show is how little conflict their relationship has compared to what I’d been led to expect. I’d heard their relationship described as a kind of enemies-to-girlfriends deal. And so I was expecting something like Catradora, where they are on opposite sides of the show’s main conflict, if not literal opposite sides of a war and where nearly every emotion they feel toward each other is complicated and fraught with regret, pain and longing. And I suppose they are kind of on opposite sides of the shows main conflict in the Covention episode, but not exactly, and even then that dichotomy quickly breaks down. Even when they were fighting in that episode, they weren’t actually trying to hurt each other, and they make an uneasy truce by the end. Indeed, the whole arc of their relationship isn’t really enemies to girlfriends. It’s a lot more subtle than that. There’s an initial antipathy because of Luz feeling protective of Willow and Amity being a shit to her, but Amity’s first episode more importantly sets up their basic dynamic, where Luz thinks Amity is callous and Amity thinks that Luz is cheating the system or life itself in some ways (Amity is very much a Fairness Person, and is a pretty accurate depiction of the personality type and the flaws in Fairness Thinking*). But very quickly the show sets up a mutual fascination - curiosity in Luz’s case and sheer frustrated confusion in Amity’s. Even at its most tense, except for their very first episodes this dynamic already teases us with the prospect that Amity and Luz will become less confrontational, and over the course of season 1 that’s exactly what happens, until by Grom they are very much friends. Who also obviously have fumbling, 14 year old crushes on each other.

Really, when I saw Lumity I saw a fairly low-conflict and low drama relationship. Some of this is an artifact of season 1 of the Owl House wrapping up most of its emotional conflicts within each episode and at least tamping down any conflict between Amity and Luz (and indeed, between most characters), but more than that there isn’t a huge depth of negative emotion between them, and from very early on in their relationship it’s balanced out by their obvious mutual interest in each other.

But even now I wouldn’t necessarily know this from how fans characterize their earlier interactions. I definitely see ‘enemies to girlfriends’ bandied about in fandom circles, and in memes about Lumity, comparisons to other ships and stuff like that. It seems like there’s a lot of playing up of their early conflict. Some of this may be a tendency I’ve noticed in fandom to play up conflicts into something more than they are in the text (in the Owl House fanon way overemphasizes the disastrous and mean spirited behavior of Em and Ed in Lost in Languages into something more sinister). But I wonder if some of it is a different and deeper question of how we approach stories. Namely, does naming a trope and applying it to a story change the way we view the story? By citing Lumity as an instance of the ‘enemies to girlfriends’ or ‘enemies to lovers’ trope do we change the way we view the story? I think it does. And this points to a potential risk in thinking about stories in terms of tropes. Because the tool we use to describe something will affect not only what we can describe but what we can think and even perceive. Our language shapes our thoughts. Like any other language game, when we talk about fiction the limits of our language are the limits of our world. Put another way, the language of our analysis of narrative is a tool we use to think about it. Talking about narrative in terms of tropes is one tool we can use. However, if we apply a trope, we change our interpretation because we will look for that trope throughout the text. We may start to over-interpret the text to better match the trope that we are applying to understand it. Even if we don’t do that, we’re using the trope and its previous iterations to understand the text.

The technical humanities gradschool term for this is a ‘hermeneutic’ - basically an intellectual tool you use for interpreting something. The most common metaphor is that it is a ‘lens’ of interpretation. Like a lens it is a way of seeing things that changes the very thing that you see (like a lens can make something look bigger or smaller, or more or less clear, or distorted in various ways, or flattened etc) in your object of study. Every time you analyze something, you’re using a hermeneutic because you can’t say or perceive anything about your object of study without one. This means that you can’t get past your hermeneutics. There is no one true way to look at a text, because you always need to use a tool, a lens, to interpret it. And each tool you use will have limitations, biases, and unspoken assumptions that will affect your interpretation. A lot of critical thinking about texts (or history, or a lot of other things) is understanding the hermeneutics we are using when we study something. This is why a lot of humanities academic papers talk about methodology for like a chapter before they get to their object of study (similarly, scientific papers will need to talk about methodology and experimental design but that is often more quantitative).

So what kind of a hermeneutic is naming tropes? I think in the end its about looking for similarities between narratives in terms of plot, setting and characterization. Cataloguing tropes is us saying ‘this character in this story is like this other character in this other story in this particular way’. Thinking about it this way, the important point is how we are noting similarities, yes (so what we consider relevant for making a trope) but also what other stories we’re comparing it to. And this is where things get interesting. Because narratives all are products of their own culture and time. And while there are ways of reading texts that don’t take this into account and these have their uses (IE New Criticism, yes I still stan it for limited purposes, don’t # me), even then we’re left with stories that actually -say- very different things. So the question becomes, what happens when we start comparing stories that aren’t actually anything alike? The result, I would argue, is a far clearer case of The Potential Pitfalls of Tropes. So let’s talk about the classic story of courtship (no, I don’t call it a love story, we’ll get to that) that weirdly enough is the most like Lumity, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.

One of the more common readings of Pride and Prejudice is that Darcy and Elizabeth bicker and snipe at each other a lot, which is a sign that they are Into Each Other, or that they start off with a passionate antipathy and this conceals a passionate love. In a Vox article I saw it used as an example of the enemies to lovers/rivals to lovers trope. The problem is, this doesn’t actually happen in the novel. In the novel, they meet at a ball, Elizabeth thinks Darcy is hot but then he’s an awkward weirdo in a way that comes across as aloof, Elizabeth quietly writes him off and tries not to bother with him (mostly think 'this fucking guy') until receiving the world’s worst marriage proposal. There is some sniping, almost all of it one-sided, unless you count this and Darcy’s awkward and arrogant fumbling as bicker-banter, which you shouldn’t. The situation isn’t resolved until toward the end when Elizabeth gradually gets to see Darcy in his own environment, where he is gracious, kind and yeah, thinks highly of himself but have you -seen- Pemberly? Elizabeth does change her mind about Darcy, but she’s not giving voice to the attraction that was always concealed by bickering or the passionate love that was masquerading as disdain. Instead, she very rationally confronts her preconceptions, finds that they have misled her, and changes her opinion based on new evidence. Then she decides that marrying a rich, hot guy whose assholery mostly compliments her own (she’s a jerk, y’all, so is he, it’s a match made in heaven) is her best chance at maximizing her happiness in a patriarchal society where her future is entirely determined by who she marries, so she accepts his next, less awkward proposal. They live happily ever after. I have joked that it’s basically a love story written by a Scottish Enlightenment philosopher and it’s certainly one of the most anti-romantic and yet weirdly sweet love stories that people still read. So yeah, Elizabeth Bennet, aromantic icon? Maybe! Anyway.

Like I mentioned, common readings (which shape a lot of adaptations as well as modern Janeite fandom) interpret meaning into the text where there arguably isn’t any (an unspoken attraction in Elizabeth’s annoyance at That Fucking Guy) as well as playing up other aspects of the text (Elizabeth’s mostly fleeting attraction to Whickam, which in the novel is mostly ‘this guy is kind of fun and also handsome’). They also ignore clear meanings that don’t fit into the reading - the conclusion of the novel, and its very title, explain the story as a pretty intellectual account of Darcy’s Pride and Elizabeth’s prejudice getting in the way of achieving a happy match. But the bigger problem is by casting this story as one of simmering passion and smouldering sexual tension, common interpretations undercut the actual philosophy of the novel, which is that our passions and preconceptions are dumb and that martial and sexual happiness can be achieved through some calculus that accounts for hotness, strength of character and income in thousands of pounds per year. The problems of Pride and Prejudice are emotional, but they’re also intellectual, and they’re overcome by the characters understanding other people more rationally and with fewer inaccurate preconceptions. Mind you, Austen throws all this romantic rationalism out the fucking window in Persuasion, which is about what happens when you do the smart thing and it makes you fucking miserable, but this is because Jane Austen is the fucking best.

So where does the common reading come from? I thin that, even if it doesn’t name a trope (as it does in the vox article), it comes from comparing the points of Pride and Prejudice’s story to tropes in more familiar media, namely modern (1930s and later) romantic comedies. In romantic comedies from the 30s on bickering has been a form of flirting (it’s in like, all the Fred and Ginger movies, I think?) and antipathy is often a mask for sexual attraction. This is a narrative coding that is understood in modern movies, to the point where superhero flick and modern rom coms will use it as a replacement for actual affection or attraction. But if we apply this narrative convention anachronistically to our understanding of a 200 year old novel that predates some of our very assumptions about the nature of romantic love and the nature of romantic relationships, then the result makes us -think- we’re relating to this older text, but really we’re not understanding what we’re reading. Rather than encountering Jane Austen’s strange and wonderful and thought provoking world, we’re reducing it to the conventions of a story that we have read a thousand times before. Sometimes, we are distorting the text and it's meaning because we are trying to understand it in the terms of what is familiar to us. And that’s sad.

This points to a more general problem with understanding narratives in terms of tropes - listing tropes is a list of supposed similarities, but stories are not interesting because of the way in which they are the same as other stories. They are interesting because of the ways in which they are different from every other story. Every story is itself. Every story has unique characters, themes, plot points, dialog, descriptive tools, style etc. Stories from other times and other cultures can be strange and confusing and challenge our assumptions about a lot of things, including what it even means to be human, and that’s why they are awesome. And I think there is incredible value if our first impulse is not to try to see how this story is -like- other stories, but instead to see how it is purely -itself-. What is it saying to us? Who are these characters? What does the way this story is told tell us? What does this story (not other stories, this one) mean to us? TL/DR Joseph Campbell was a fucking hack, more on that in a future rant.

So as you may have noticed, if there are lumpers and there are splitters (a distinction that comes from taxonomy in biology - do you lump species together or split them apart), then call me a splitter. Similarities can be useful, but the similarities between things can never tell us what makes something itself, because what makes something itself is the thing or things or combination of things that it doesn’t share with anything else. And so I encourage everyone to first ask yourself what a story is saying in itself, as itself, before you compare it to anything else, be that through a TV Tropes trope list or anything else. Yes, this is an approach that will also require its own hermeneutics, and no, it will never be definitive. There is always more to be said. Indeed, after I think about how a work is uniquely itself I do like comparing it to other works. But I Think this can often be the perspective that most allows works to speak for themselves.

*Where fairness is defined as ‘everyone should play by the same rules’ 

Curse-breaker (Chapter 4/4)

- ao3 -

“You know him, right?” Jiang Cheng asked Lan Xichen. He was trying not to appear as nervous as he felt in asking, but he was pretty sure he was failing. “Nie-gongzi?”

Lan Xichen smiled. “I do. And thank you for calling him that, he prefers it.”

There were those that had started calling him Curse-breaker, as if it were a proper title; Jiang Cheng had heard it said a few times, and while he didn’t personally disagree with the moniker, which seemed appropriate, he also knew better than to just drop it into a conversation.

Luckily. He was trying to make a good impression here.

“What’s he like?” Jiang Cheng blurted out, then immediately wanted to kick himself. “I mean – it’s just – I didn’t see him much when he visited the Lotus Pier –”

He was making it worse.

It was only that he’d never quite met anyone with so much presence as Nie Mingjue: taller even than Jiang Cheng’s father, with that strange eye that seemed to see everything and anything. His features were generally set in a neutral expression that made him seem almost unworldly, like some god untouched by human concerns, but which sometimes softened a little when he approved of something – or someone.

Jiang Cheng could feel his cheeks going red, and tried to suppress it.

“Mingjue-xiong liked you,” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng lost the battle at once, his whole face heating up until it felt unbearably hot. This was worse than the time that Nie Mingjue had come to the Lotus Pier and told his parents to value Jiang Cheng more or else, and then his father had come in with a smirk and a snarl and somehow made them do it. “He said so.”

“He did?”

“Oh, yes. He said you were talented and faithful, with a good heart, and that we’d see great things from you.”

Jiang Cheng was going to die.

“That’s nice,” he said, with an effort. “I thought very highly of him, too. He’s…great.”

Wow. ‘Great’. Was that really the best he could do?

Lan Xichen studied him for a moment, then nodded. “He really is,” he said, and sighed. “I had the same reaction, you know. He’s…a lot.”

Jiang Cheng felt seen. “I know,” he said effusively. “He’s just – you know?”

“I do,” Lan Xichen said. “Just –”

He waved his hand in the air. Not even making some sort of gesture, just a meaningless sort of wave, but for some reason Jiang Cheng understood him completely.

There really just weren’t words sometimes, when you wanted to describe things or people that inspired feelings that went beyond the merely describable. Nie Mingjue was one of those – Jiang Cheng had known that Lan Xichen would understand, and sure enough, he did.

And to think that Wei Wuxian liked Lan Wangji better!

Really, his shixiong might be more talented than Jiang Cheng in many ways, ways that were often a matter of jealousy, but Jiang Cheng clearly had better taste.

“Oh, there you are,” a voice said, and Jiang Cheng tensed and turned to look – but it was only Wen Qing, so that was fine. “Lan-gongzi, Jiang-gongzi, I was sent to spend some time with you.”

She probably meant that she was sent away so that the adults would have time to talk about issues they thought were too sensitive to involve the younger generation, or else they just wanted to start drinking earlier in the afternoon than usual and didn’t want her judging them from a medical standpoint. Either might be true – Wen Qing was widely acclaimed as one of the most talented in their generation, as terrifying with her needles as other people might be with their sword, from more or less the first moment she’d finally been allowed to join the rest of them on equal grounds.

They greeted her, trying to stand up to be polite, but she waved them down irritably and took a seat instead. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nie Mingjue,” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng nodded. “We were just commenting on his many admirable qualities.”

Jiang Cheng nodded a second time, even more emphatically.

Wen Qing looked at them both with that critical eye of hers for a long moment.

Then she sighed in a huff. “He’s really all that and more, isn’t he?” she said.

“He is,” Lan Xichen said.

“He’s just –” Jiang Cheng tried the same gesture as Lan Xichen earlier, and was gratified when Wen Qing started nodding herself in total agreement. “Right?”

“Right.”

-

Nie Mingjue was aware that many people liked to stare at them, but they had assumed it was because of how unusual they were – even putting aside the eye, which was their most obviously not-normal feature, their behavior was not always in line with regular people’s. They didn’t show their emotions on their face as easily, being more naturally inclined towards sternness, and their manner was both sharp and incisive, straightforward and blunt; they had missed critical years of social development while lost in what amounted to seclusion, too busy solidifying their sense of self, consolidating their we into an I.

(They were still trying to figure out gender, a process complicated by the fact that it hadn’t made much sense to either of them to begin with. They were starting to suspect it would be better to just give up on it entirely.)

It turned out, according to Nie Huaisang, that that was not why all those people were staring.

“When you say they like me…”

“Sexually or romantically attracted, usually both,” Nie Huaisang said. “You have a lot of would-be suitors. Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, Jiang Yanli –”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to use their names directly like that,” Nie Mingjue said, though they weren’t sure about that. They’d forgotten more etiquette than they’d ever learned. “Also, isn’t Jiang Yanli getting married to Jin Zixuan?”

“He’s another of your admirers. As is Meng Yao…no, sorry, Jin Ziyao. You know he secretly thinks that you killed Jin Guangshan for him, right?”

They’d killed Jin Guangshan because he was rotten through and through, and he didn’t even have a qi deviation or a tormenting heart demon to blame for it. He just thought of people as things, even the ones he supposedly liked, and acted accordingly…they hadn’t really thought through the consequences of killing him when they’d done it, having long ago forgotten the concept of political considerations, but it was really amazing what could be covered up or excused if multiple sect leaders put their minds to it while the rest just breathed a sigh of relief that Jin Guangshan was gone.

“That seems like too many people,” they said. “They can’t all be my…admirers.”

“You think that’s it? I haven’t even gotten to Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian – both at once, if that’s your preferred flavor – and even that feral child Jin Ziyao found in Kuizhou…you know just the other week, he loudly declared that you were better than sweets and the entire room sighed all at once in agreement?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. There are even rumors that say that Sect Leader Wen might be interested…”

They shrugged.

Nie Huaisang squinted at them. “Da-ge. Did you know about that one?”

“Sect Leader Wen is not subtle,” they said dryly. “But if it makes you feel better, his interest is purely a matter of cultivation, and also our father has already hit him for even making the suggestion.”

Nie Huaisang didn’t look impressed. “Are you sure it’s purely a matter of cultivation? Would you be able to tell if it wasn’t?”

Nie Mingjue considered how little they’d recognized any of the other people who were purportedly interested in them. “No,” they admitted.

“Hmm. What about Teacher Lan?”

“What about Teacher Lan?” they asked, suspicious.

“Nothing, nothing. Just something I read somewhere…”

Probably one of those spring books that he was always sneaking around, they concluded.

“Though…you have been going out of your way to meet up with Teacher Lan more often recently…”

“He’s helping me figure out some of the bureaucratic intricacies of changing succession,” they said. “He’s had the most experience, having to do it twice – once to get his brother out of the line of succession, and another to get him back in. He’s a good teacher.”

He was, too. For all of Nie Huaisang’s tall tales about Lan Qiren’s strictness and overly-rigid insistence on orthodoxy, the man himself had a very calming presence, still and tranquil. It made them think of a musical instrument and, using the Nie cultivation method as a base, start to think strange thoughts…

Though not the sorts of thoughts Nie Huaisang had in mind.

“I mean, I guess. Even I learned eventually, and – wait. Why do you need to know about how to change succession? You’re already the heir.”

“That’s the problem,” Nie Mingjue said. “I need to figure out how to abdicate my position in your favor.”

Nie Huaisang gaped at him.

“No, I’m not joking,” they said, because they knew their little brother. “I’m not suited for politics. I don’t think I ever was, and after everything that happened, I’m even less suited.”

They really weren’t. Too blunt, too sharp, too concerned with justice, too inhuman – they were good at fighting, in the sense that they knew how to be a saber as well as a human and could wield sharpness in the same way, a slash from their fingers being enough to cleave a man in half, but that wasn’t what being a sect leader was about.

No, Nie Huaisang would be much better at it.

“Da-ge, you can’t do this to me!” Nie Huaisang wailed. “Do you know how much work it’d be? Anyway, you can’t – our father’s already promised all of Qinghe Nie to your future spouse! So there!”

“Then I just won’t ever get married.”

“What?!” Nie Huaisang waved his hands wildly. “You can’t do that! You – you – do you know how many hearts you’d be breaking?!”

“So you’ve informed me,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “It’s all right, Huaisang. I rather like the life Teacher Lan has made for himself, traveling all around and coming back every few seasons to teach something. I want to fight evil, and there’s a lot more evil out there than there is in here.”

Or, at minimum, there was more evil of the sort they were allowed to just stab. That was apparently frowned upon, in politics – there was a reason they said they weren’t suited for it.

“You’re not suited for fighting evil with a blade,” they added while Nie Huaisang was still spluttering. “But you can do wonders with people, if you’re given enough time to plan it. Being sect leader will put you in the position that will let you fight evil best, in your own way.”

“Not everything is about fighting evil, da-ge!”

“Isn’t it?”

Nie Huaisang didn’t seem to have a good answer to that.

After a while, he finally said, “…you really think I’d be good at it?”

Nie Mingjue pulled their younger brother in for a hug.

“You’ll be magnificent,” they promised.

-

They liked travel, just as they’d suspected they would.

People always recognized them – the eye was very distinctive, and they were also very tall – and immediately rushed over to share all their problems. They were very happy to help. Some of them they could fix personally, generally the ones that were stabbable, while they had a wide enough set of acquaintances to deal with many of the others: those who needed healing to go to the Lan sect or Wen sect, depending on whether problem was mental or physical; those that needed advancement to the Jin sect or Jiang sect; mysteries to be solved to the newly established Wei sect over in Yiling; and anyone with anything more abstruse than that over to Nie Huaisang personally to sort of.

Their little brother liked a good puzzle.

As for Nie Mingjue’s part, they liked fighting evil, and they liked helping people, too, if they could manage it, so it all worked out quite well. The road could be a little lonely at times, all alone with no one around, but it wasn’t really that bad. They were welcome at just about every cultivation sect and most of the other places they’d passed by, so it wasn’t like they were lacking for company if they wanted it.

It was only sometimes that they wished that there was someone else who might want to share this type of life with them.

It was a difficult life, always roving and never satisfied, intent on fighting evil for an eternity and prizing the doing of it over normal things, everyday things; they knew that they couldn’t ask someone else to take on a mission so absurd as stamping out all evil in the world, and so they didn’t. Who would be so foolish as that? Not everyone could leave behind all their responsibilities and ties to the world the way they did, passing instead through their beloved one’s lives by chance like a leaf tossed in the wind – nor should they, if those ties gave them joy.

Take their current mission, for example. One of Nie Mingjue’s earlier trips had taken them from Yiling to the Baixue Temple, with the highly unorthodox Wei sect’s equally unorthodox head disciple, Xue Yang, tagging along with them so that they could – in Wei Wuxian’s words – beat some sense into his head, and it had been on that trip that they had met Song Lan, who was thoroughly charmed by the idea of a sect established on principles of brotherhood rather than blood.

He'd also been rather charmed, they thought, by Xue Yang himself, and the interest had been mutual.

(They were getting better at recognizing that sort of thing.)

So Song Lan had gone off with them, with Nie Mingjue dropping both him and Xue Yang back in Yiling, and when he’d gone back again another time they had seemed very happy. But Song Lan had been thinking about his master and martial brothers back at home, and he’d asked if Nie Mingjue would be willing to carry along some letters that he didn’t dare trust to the post.

Nie Mingjue, suspecting a request regarding marriage was involved, had readily agreed. Sure enough, once they’d dropped it off, the entire Baixue Temple had all but exploded in excitement – they’d barely managed to make it out of there in time to avoid being dragged into all the fuss.

And now they were wandering around nearby, shaking their head in amusement at all the noise they’d left behind, looking for something more interesting to do. Some evil to fight, or something like that.

They found both.

“Well, that was exhilarating,” they commended to the cultivator in white that had worked together with them to defeat a rather astounding number of evil creatures in an effort to save some rogue cultivators who’d gotten in over their heads. Nie Mingjue’s reputation was already ridiculous, and was only going to get worse, they knew, but really this was a lot even for them. They wouldn’t have been able to manage it without help.

“It was,” the cultivator said, and smiled at them. “My name is Xiao Xingchen, disciple of Baoshan Sanren. Who are you?”

“Nie Mingjue,” they said. They thought they’d heard of Baoshan Sanren before, but they weren’t entirely sure – they had a tendency to forget things that weren’t that important to them. They thought it might be something to do with Wei Wuxian’s mother –something to do with the immortal mountain, and a doom that fell on those who descended from it…?

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did those rogue cultivators call you Curse-breaker?” Xiao Xingchen asked.

They thought about it for a moment, then shrugged.

Xiao Xingchen laughed.

It was a warm sound.

“Where are you going?” Nie Mingjue asked. “I can escort you, if you like.”

“Don’t you have things of your own to be doing?”

“Not really,” Nie Mingjue said. “I want to eradicate all evil in this world, a task that’ll take me a lifetime – and evil can be found anywhere. Why not with you?”

Xiao Xingchen ducked his head. “I don’t have a destination either,” he admitted. “I came down from the mountain because I wanted to help save all the people in the world.”

Nie Mingjue blinked. That was nearly as stupidly idealistic a goal as theirs.

“Well, then,” they said, and smiled. “In that case, why don’t we go together?”

It would be nice to have company, unrestrained by any obligations tied to the mortal world, and in return they could show Xiao Xingchen everything there was to see – introduce him to all the people, eat all the food, fight all the battles. And if in the end it turned out that that doom people talked about in regards to the mountain really was a thing…

Well, they’d see about that.

After all, Nie Mingjue had a bit of experience with curses like that.

pumpkin | colby brock

✖ Summary: While taking a trip to Rosehill Cemetery for one Colby’s videos, you both become a little too distracted to realize the dangers surrounding you. 

✖  genre ; fluff, comfort, the tiniest bit of angst 

✖  warnings ; slight mention of smut, reader w/ anxiety, mention of rituals 

✖ requested - yes | no

anon asked:  Hi love ! I saw that you take requests for colby again and I sent a request a while back asking if you could write one where he and his gf wanted to film a video but they start to make out super randomly and have to film the whole video again and now I am wondering if you could write it ?

a/n: i’m so terribly sorry for the wait; i hope you like it my lovely!! stay hydrated, take care of yourself, n make sure to rest!! ily <3 

✖ masterlist

The setting was quite bizarre for the feelings you felt so deeply and beautifully in your heart; you were completely, utterly mesmerized by the boy standing beside you. You walked in this dark, melancholic place with your fingers intertwined; both his and your hands interlocked. He carried a backpack of filming equipment, drinks, snacks, and band-aids; you carried a separate bag of blankets and pillows. Ghosts and ghouls were rumored to be in this grey, brooding place; even dangerous rituals have taken place here: Rosehill Cemetery. 

“Where do you wanna film the intro? I was thinking next to the Mortuary,” Colby said, “If you’re still comfortable and down for this, that is.” 

“Of course I am!! Maybe a little nervous, but there’s no turning back now,” You replied, feeling a cold chill go down your spine at the thought of anything going wrong. 

“Then the Mortuary it is,” He said with a grin that contained a hint of rebellion and mischief in it. 

As the violet-haired boy filmed the intro to his video, you admired his every feature and each mannerism. The way he talked while swaying his hands and hips; the dimples slightly showing through his cheeks, the motions of his jawline. The angelic, ethereal man that stood before you made you weak to your knees; it was hard to count every breath he took from your lungs. 

You were so in awe that you couldn’t hear the pet names said to get your attention, until finally he said your name. 

“Y/N? You alright?” He questioned with a slight smile, catching your wandering eyes. 

“Perfect.” You replied with a soft smile as he looked you up and down. 

You both ended up heading to the biggest honorary statue nearby, to not only take a thumbnail but also to explore more of the graveyard. As you quietly stumbled down the gravel path with Colby, hand in hand, he made witty comments to the camera whilst paying close attention to your surroundings.  This if the first kind of video of Colby’s that you’ve joined; you’ve always been eager to do something like this, though you know it can get risky and dangerous. That’s exactly why he held it off for so long, he never wanted to put you in any kind of uncomfortable or tense situations. The dyed-haired boy leading you has always been the utmost respectful and kind human being you’ve ever laid your eyes on. 

The amount of pure infatuation and love you held for him came without hesitance or thought; no number could label what you felt, no word could describe what happened in you when you simply glance at him. The electric blue butterflies swarming through your heart and the rosewater in your veins never faded, only growing more and more intense each waking second. Before him, it was as if your world could only be seen in light grey and shades of blue; now everything is built with much higher saturation. 

You knew not of what may happen in the future, but you knew you seen him in every upcoming chapter. 

“Excited?” Colby asked, grinning at you as he looked back at you. 

“Very; and a little scared, not gonna lie,” you replied with a light, friendly laugh. 

“It’ll all be fine, if anything were to happen you know we can just go home,” he reassured you with a sly wink. 

You nodded with a giddy smile, trying your best to look away from him. He could always make you feel like you’re on top of the world even with the smallest of interactions - that absolute bastard. You rolled your eyes as you realized just how much you’ve truly fallen for him. 

You skipped in front of him and stopped him from walking ahead, smirking at him while he looked at you questioningly and suspiciously. 

“What’re you up to, rascal?” He asked, knowing of your mischievous tendencies in the past. 

“Now why do you always assume the worst from me?” you laughed as you started to trace a fingertip along his jawline, then to his neck; you felt him swallow as if he felt nervous, though you knew it wasn’t nervousness making him eager. Soon enough your fingertip made it’s way down to his chest, then to the bottom half of his black button down shirt. You let out a light laugh as you teased, completely removing your hand from his torso entirely. 

Colby scoffed and quickly ran his ring-clad fingers up to your throat, his hand then forming a light grip across your jaw.  

“Wanna think about teasing me again, princess?” He asked with a now lower toned voice. 

You sweetly smiled at his intimidating exterior and leaned in to kiss him, in which he happily obliged. 

You felt his soft, light pink-tinted lips against your own and the rest of your face grew numb. Your body became weak, and your legs tightly squeeze together as you felt the grip on your throat roughen. His tongue darted against your bottom lip, making you let out a sweet, soft sound. Within a few seconds, your hands started wandering beneath his slightly unbuttoned shirt; though as soon as your hand drifted lower, Colby almost immediately pulled away.  

You were snapped out of your lovesick state as his facial features grew concerned; the only thing you seen at the statue you were a few feet away from was the illumination of candlelight and light chanting.

“Down,” He whispered, gently grabbing your shoulder and taking you to crouch with him. He placed a finger over his mouth, creating a silent “sh,” sound as he watched what was happening. 

“Colby,” you whispered, “What’re they doing? Who are they?” you began to panic. 

“Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay, just make sure you stay with me and do as I say,” he calmly whispered while making the softest direct eye contact with you. 

He knew you have always had the worst anxiety and one of his top priorities are making sure that anxiety is calmed; that you’re taken care of. He always tries his best to keep you comfortable in every setting, that became much more evident rather than subtle when you told him about your anxiety. He very much understood what you went through and knew that you could help each other through your anxiety issues. Situations like this was something he never wanted you to experience. 

“Who’s there?” a man in black attire yelled from the statue, looking in your direction. The chanting stopped. 

Colby had a look of shock across his face, then sudden terror as he seen something near the statue that you didn’t; as soon as he gasped, the next thing you knew was running the opposite direction with him. 

“We gotta get the fuck out of here,” Colby loudly spoke right next to you as you ran; he made sure never to let go of your hand. 

“What did you see?” you yelled in response, trying to keep up with him when it came down to every single breath.

Colby didn’t respond, but he glanced back to see six masked silhouettes in the far distance; they did not run, they walked in unison. 

At this point of running for what felt like decades though it had only been an estimated 45 minutes, you could see what looked like the parking lot close ahead. You had tears in your eyes that just wouldn’t drop; your throat felt like it was closing more and more within each passing second. 

You and Colby finally made it to his car and looked back for anyone near you. No one else was to be seen. You jumped in and slammed the door, Colby then locking the car and doing nothing less than booking it. 

He quickly pulled out of the parking lot and started going far faster than he should have. You seen him glance towards you in concern, making sure you were safe. His fingertips tapped on the steering wheel due to anxiousness. 

“Colby, breathe, you’ve got me,” you reassuringly said to him with a small smile, though your voice came out with cracks and whines. 

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, this was such a bad idea,” he said to you in response, placing his right hand on your thigh whilst he continued driving. 

“I’ll be fine as soon as we get home, please just relax for me?” you asked sweetly. 

He nodded, his muscles untensing and his jaw unclenching. 

“What can I do to make this up to you, sweetheart?” he asked, feeling incredibly guilty for the situation he put you in. 

“You have nothing to make up to me love, but if we’re being honest the footage wouldn’t have been used anyway,” you said causing both of you to let out a light laugh, “so we could film another video tonight instead. A more laid-back one? Perhaps making a Halloween cake?” you excitedly smiled. 

“Anything for you, baby,” he sighed with relief, “but we have to watch horror movies tonight and I don’t make the rules, you gotta cuddle me,” Colby demanded. 

“Most definitely, pumpkin,” you replied lovingly.  

- fin. 

Alright, If We’re Gonna Play with Az’s Bonus Chapter, Let’s PLAY with Az’s Bonus Chapter (Pt. 1)

I’m going to do a close reading of this bonus chapter, because this whole thing is stressing me out and I want to write out what I think I know what I definitely know and what I’m worried about. Here. We. Go. 

I’m not going to directly quote supporting info in this post, but I will be using a LOT of quotes in the next few weeks, so if anyone wants me to confirm a certain statement I’m making here just let me know and I’ll drop the receipts :)

Also this is super long but I had a lot of thoughts I’m excited about! My commentary is in bold italics!

The river house had finally fallen quiet after the raucous Winter Solstice party, the faelights dimming to cast little pools of gold amid the deep shadow here is an example of contrast between light and dark, which many have made salient points on regarding the counterbalance of Elain/Azriel and their relationship of the longest night of the year.

Amren, Mor, and Varian had finally gone to bed, but Azriel found himself lingering downstairs.

He knew he should get some sleep. He’d need it come dawn, for the snowball battle up at the cabin. Cassian had mentioned no less than six times tonight that he had a secret plan regarding his so-called impending victory. Az had let his brother boast. Especially since Azriel had been planning his own victory for a year now. Had been planning his own victory for a year now, and had one the past 199 years’ worth of fights.

Cassian wouldn’t know what was coming for him. And Az fully planned on capitalizing on the fact that Nesta likely wouldn’t let Cassian sleep much tonight.

Az snickered to himself, to the listening shadows around him. Note the differentiation between himself and the shadows around him - he snickers to them outside of himself, as they are not HIM, they are his companions.

Sleep, they seemed to whisper in his ear. Sleep.

I wish I could, he answered silently. But sleep so rarely found him these days. Again, engaging in a conversation with them. Though he does say that they SEEMED to whisper sleep, which is interesting. He seems to communicate with them beyond worded language, this is a case where he’s translating whatever that communication is into words.

Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike Yeah this guy needs some therapy for sure, love him but this feels very much like the state of avoidance that Nesta found herself in. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated and pulling taut across his bones. so he slept only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours. This feels very much like an extreme, one that certainly didn’t exist all of the time with Mor (otherwise he’s truly not been sleeping for…ever). I have a very, very hard time believing he would have this reaction because of lust or a coveting kind of obsession.

Azriel surveyed the empty family room, presents and ribbons littering the furniture. Cassian and Nesta hadn’t reappeared downstairs, though that came as no surprise. He was elated for his brother, and yet...

Azriel couldn’t stop it. The envy in his chest. Of Cassian, and Rhys. This is almost exactly the sentiment expressed by Cassian in ACOFAS/ACOSF

He knew he’d be swallowed by it if he went up to his bedroom, so he’d remained down here by the dying light of the fire.

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Entering the foyer for what? Entering in order to go to bed? Or was he drawn there, somehow knowing Elain would be there? I really don’t know the answer and I don’t have a preference as to whether or not they are mates, but it’s worth thinking about. Also important to note that the SHADOWS ARE NOT ENOUGH FOR AZRIEL. They are his friends, an important coping mechanism, but they are not the sum of who he is, nor do they even represent the part of himself that is most realized or fulfilled.

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. Again, imagery to highlight a contrast between the two of them, Elain as the sun at dawn. Note that it’s talking about dawn, not day. SJM has repeatedly used language about Summer, Dawn, Spring and such to describe Elain, which makes me wonder if her light is meant to transcend the courts - in the same way that the shadows are not the sum of Azriel, the sun (the Day, the Dawn, Spring, Summer etc.) is not the sum of Elain.

“I...” He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands. “I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier.” One thing I noticed on closer examination, she went downstairs to leave it in his pile, not to see him. I wonder if it hurts her to be around HIM as well. Elain has said several times in this book (either on the page or in second- or third-hand account) that she is committed to this court, and I wonder if that same commitment that had her going to the Hewn City is what also has prevented her from ending things with Lucien. It’s not in her nature to be disingenuous, and so she cannot fake certain feelings for him, but it IS in her nature to be selfless, and she probably understands what their mating bond means and how important Lucien’s alliance is. I wonder also if she is unsure as to Azriel’s feelings or if she knows somehow, as Azriel sort of implies she might below.

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn’t need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face. She’d waited until everyone was asleep before venturing down, where she’d leave her gift amongst his other, opened presents, subtle and unnoticed. This is another instance in which Azriel sees her when no one else does, even when she’s not intending or someone to see her. Also, of course, important to note that he can read her without his shadows - a crutch that he uses in interactions with many other people.

Elain closed the distance, and her breathing quickened as she again paused, now a scant foot away. She extended the wrapped gift, her hand shaking. “Here.” Elain makes ALL the moves in this scene - she approaches him, she asks him to put the necklace on her, she leans in, she says yes etc. etc. I think Azriel is actually very respectful and restrained throughout this whole interaction.

Az tried not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. Azriel is ashamed of his scars, and is ashamed of them with Feyre and Mor as well as Elain, this is an across-the-board part of his characterization. She hadn’t bought her mate a present. But she’d gotten Azriel one last year — a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind The headache powder: proof that Elain has been seeing him - specifically seeing him rub his temples. Not to use, but to look at. Which he’d done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days, and then opened the lid. Elain is not a casual person, she can’t even handle it when Feyre (her sister) tries to talk to her and Nesta (her other sister) privately about High Fae menstruation. For every lack of flourish or formality that Elain gives Azriel, that is another measured degree of comfort she feels with him - she wouldn’t give an unsigned, familiar note to just anyone.

Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, “You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you...”

He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse. “No wonder you didn’t want me to open it in front of everyone.”

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Nesta wouldn’t appreciate the joke.” Elain and Azriel have similar senses of humor. Not necessarily in content, but in the way it sort of crops up off-the-cuff and sometimes unnoticed. I like that Elain makes him laugh.

He offered a smile back. “I wasn’t sure if I should give you your present.”

He left the rest unspoken.  Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn’t stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

Elain’s large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days. Alright so, this is really curious. Does this mean that they both seem to be aware of the other’s feelings AND aware that the other is aware of their feelings? I really do wonder if, in this case, Az is an unreliable narrator- maybe assuming more certainty of Elain than she actually has. Again, I don’t think he would have such a visceral reaction to Elain and Lucien being in the same room (and not even close to each other at all) if he was just infatuated or in lust with her

But tonight, here in the dark and quiet more juxtaposition, with no one to see... no one to see, except the two of them, who always see more than others and who always see each other more than anyone else He pulled the small velvet box from the shadows around him. Opened it for her.

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They’d always been prone to vanish when she was around. If Azriel is aware of the fact that his shadows disappear around Elain, and is still almost certainly in love with Elain, I think we can gather that it’s a positive thing for his shadows to give them privacy- which- btw, is what I think they are doing. The shadows feel to Azriel, to me, the way that the HoW feels to Nesta. The HoW doesn’t dislike Cassian, but also doesn’t need to be as diligent with Nesta when he’s around, because the House trusts Cassian with her.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary — it’s chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the truth depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. So I don’t think he’s saying that Elain is a thing here. I think he’s saying that HIS FEELINGS for her are a thing of secret, lovely beauty. It’s been made pretty clear that Elain’s physical AND inner beauty are decidedly visible and prominent. She is, the opposite of secret- though she is often described as lovely. I think what’s more interesting here is the time dedicated to describing this gift and the time dedicated to describing Lucien’s gift of pearl earrings (more on that later, but spoiler-alert, that’s the extent of the description)

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets this word choice is notable because it’s an indication of layers and depth and different sides, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows he let them do it, again the way he interacts with his shadows does not make it seem like they ARE him. It would probably say “Azriel’s shadows whisked away the box” or “Azriel used his shadows to…” etc. whisk away the box as she said softly, “Put it on me?” Again, Elain is driving the action

His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck. That this situation is described in such slow, delicate detail evokes a sense of intimacy and gravity to the reader. Every tiny piece of this little bite of interaction means something to Azriel and probably to Elain.

He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin this word choice is admittedly a little strange, but the use of this and later of the word sacrilege is FAR from the first time SJM uses religiously-coded language to describe a romantic/sexual/intimate situation. In this very book, Cassian describes his sex with Nesta “as close to a religious experience” as he’d ever gotten - furthermore, there is often talk of the worship of bodies. More on this in another post! ALSO, of course he thinks about touching her in relation to himself. He is himself, for one thing, for another, one of the most reinforced aspects of Azriel’s character that has been made clear to us as readers is his belief that he is unworthy. This comes up not at all just with Elain, it comes up everywhere. It comes up when Azriel volunteers for the most dangerous assignments, it comes up with Mor A LOT, it comes up with Rhys and Cassian. I HAVE A LOT MORE TO SAY ABOUT AZRIEL SO I JUST NEED TO STOP TYPING RIGHT N. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered that’s hot and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Azriel’s fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine SUCH precise language, so agonizing. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

It had never gone this far. They’d exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. Another important line in reiterating the fact that there are two people participating in this interaction and the broader relationship, with the use of ‘exchanged’ and ‘their.’ It could easily also say something like, “Azriel had never gone this far. She’d sometimes caught him looking at her and he her, and every so often he’d taken the risk of brushing his fingers against hers.” Elain’s agency in these interactions and this relationship is SO IMPORTANT! It is the difference between Az viewing Elain as a two-dimensional and unattainable figure and as a real person with wants and needs.

Wrong — it was so wrong. Azriel knows, just as well as Rhys, what is at stake in Elain’s relationship with Lucien. He also has reverence for the mating bond in the same way that many other fae and faeries do. Of course he thinks it’s wrong!

He didn’t care.

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue — There is literally so much talk in Feysand and Nessian of tasting and eating out. Both Rhys and Cassian make it very clear that they spent a lot of time thinking about what their partners would taste like and how they might go about finding out for sure.

Azriel’s cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn’t peer down. Prayed she didn’t understand the shift in his scent.

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Because he knows it’s a fool’s hope. He never thinks about this as a viable path! Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep again a recognition of the separation between him and his shadows. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she’d make. See above: Nessian and Feysand are just as dirty and graphic (especially Nessian) and Rhys and Cassian are JUST AS WORSHIPFUL of their partners.

Elain bit her lower lip, and it took every ounce Azriel’s restraint to keep from putting his own teeth there.

“I should go,” Elain said, but made no move to leave. Again, they are BOTH cognizant, I think, of the risks and dynamics at play here.

“Yes,” he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He’d beg on his knees for a chance to taste it Rhys’s WHOLE THING is that he kneels before Feyre in reverence. But Azriel just stroked her neck again. SJM repeatedly uses the scent of arousal as a way to confirm sexual interest beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their scars. I personally think this is Azriel being self-deprecating. I think that Elain is a seer, and probably has some idea of what Azriel does. Does this mean he puts her on a pedestal or that he views her as pure? It’s possible, but I think Azriel views most people whom he loves as pure compared to himself in one way or another— even Cassian. There is a line I’ll cite eventually where Rhys muses on the similarities between himself and Azriel, since Rhys is the only person Azriel allows to see the full scope of his rage. Ditto with the pedestal.

Such terrible things that it was a sacrilege same story as my point above on the word immaculate, but again I do totally admit that it’s a strange word. I just think that we have had so little of Azriel’s perspective that we can’t really say whether this is a perversion of his connection to Elain or if this is a regular sort of attitude for him for his fingers to touch her skin, tainting her with his presence.

But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it. AND THAT WOULD BE IT. HE DOESN’T THINK IT WILL GO FURTHER!

“Yes,” Elain breathed, like she read the decision. You fucking go Elain get that ass Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother interesting choice of words given Nesta’s association with the Mother and Nesta’s apparent tacit acceptance of Azriel’s feelings for Elain (more on that later) might witness them.

Azriel’s hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain’s mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before flirting shut.

Offer and permission. OFFER AND PERMISSION. ELAIN WANTS THE SHADOWSINGER D!!!!!

He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Azriel. And suddenly, the one time they both are comfortable with how they’re being seen (that Azriel is being seen by no one else BUT Elain, that Elain is finally being seen intimately, by someone, in the dark, namely, AZRIEL)

Rhys’s voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain’s sweet mouth.

Azriel. So if you were to ask me what the biggest sign of Elriel’s longevity in this chapter is, it is this: that they did not kiss. SJM built a very tightly worded and wound tension around this moment with her language, and.  the fact that it is not fulfilled is frustrating, right? We know that he touched the knob of her spine - we know that she shivered. For that level of intimacy not to end in a kiss, means something. Rhys could easily have interrupted them after their lips had already touched, and if this relationship were a device serving another, that’s what would have happened.

SJM knows that the tension is built and unfulfilled, and I think she also knows that this wouldn’t have been the right time for them to have their first kiss - which is what I think many readers have noticed in so many words. Where my thoughts differ is that I think SJM is walking a line between romantically coding the moment AND acknowledging that this moment is not ideal, and that it doesn’t deserve to be fulfilled satisfyingly, especially given Azriel’s self-loathing. MORE LATER :) Which should maybe be my catchphrase.

Also, them not kissing can’t just be about the fact that it’s a bonus chapter. You can’t make that argument about their not-kiss and then argue that the interaction with Gwyn is essential to the coming story. Which, I think it is significant, by the way, I’m just not sure how yet :P

Unrelenting command filled his name, and Azriel looked up. Rhysand stood atop the staircase. Glowering down at them.

My office. Now.

Rhys vanished, and Azriel was left standing before Elain, who still awaited his kiss. His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand away from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, “This was a mistake.” UGH. The capital P Pain.

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, “I’m sorry.” See, this reaction makes me think that she is not as aware of his feelings as he thinks she is. That she later returns the necklace (or did she?) reinforces this. I think that if she was certain how he felt about her, she would be frustrated and maybe angry in the way that she has responded to Feyre’s comments about her mating bond with Lucien, not hurt and confused.

“You don’t — Don’t apologize,” he managed to say. “Never apologize. It’s I who should...”  He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he’d brought to her expression. “Goodnight.” But at least it definitely confirms her feelings to Azriel.

PART II IS BEING POSTED BACK-TO-BACK!

Bruno Headcanons x Reader SFW + NSFW

Anon_From_Hell on AO3 said: “Okay I have several.... not request but more of ideas? Feel free to use them or ignore them. Jotaro being topped by reader? With dick or a strap? Bruno! Bruno headcanons.”

I have had a bit of this written since I started this blog, I just never had enough to it, so I’m glad someone asked for this because Bruno is one of my favourite characters and he deserves the world.

Link to the Bottom!Jotaro here

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Light mentions of protectiveness, gentle Bruno for the most part, dates to the museum, restaurant dates, descriptions of dicks, fingering, mentions of shibari or tying partners up, eating ass, eating pussy, oral in general, spit roast, stand fucking, breeding, pregnancy kink, pegging/fucking Bruno, praise kink (giving), spanking, public sex, sexting.

Word Count: 2387

SFW

Where do I start? He’s a gentleman, of course, especially when he first meets you. He’s not very obvious with his crush on you, but a few can notice that his stare lingers just a little bit longer than usual and his hand hovers in the air for a millisecond after you’ve touched it during an exchange.

Bruno is hesitant to start a relationship with you. His line of work is dangerous, both of you know this, but he really does not want you to get caught up in something you shouldn’t be. It would take a lot of coaxing from you and from members of the group to push him into being comfortable with it. 

Once he does, he’s exceptionally gentle, lightly brushing his hand against yours while you’re walking together before grabbing. During conversations, he’ll put his hand on your back. He won’t show it, but he’s ecstatic about having someone to touch; someone to smile at him with romantic love, not just the usual respectful ones he gets from strangers or gang members. Sweet smiles. It makes him feel so loved.

He is so protective of you. He knows his boys can be a little on the rougher side, so he’s made sure they will all treat you with the utmost respect. Especially when he’s around.

I can’t see him lashing out at you unless you do something really stupid like getting yourself hurt or saying something that sets him off which usually only happens when he’s exhausted. Remind him that you don’t deserve to be yelled at or apologize and he’ll usually do the same. But, for the most part, he’s very relaxed with you.

He’s a busy man, but he schedules everything he does in his day down to the minute. Bruno is impeccable with his organization. He’ll always make sure he has time for you, even if it means pushing things around and bending the rules a bit. He wants to make sure you know that he’s there. He may be busy, but he will always have time for you.

For some reason, I can see him taking you to art galleries or museums for dates. Holding your hand while the two of you walk around admiring the different pieces. If you know anything about something he will gladly listen! Patiently watching you light up about the cute trollop fossil or how beautifully that flower is in that kind of paint and how you would have done this or that to add to it. 

Of course, Bruno will also take you on romantic dates to restaurants overlooking the canal with some of the best food you have ever had, but I think he prefers dates that keep you physically close to him, where he can hold your hand instead of sitting across from you.

He also buys you jewelry, fancy clothes and perfume/cologne. Nothing too over the top, but subtle things that have more meaning to them than flashiness. He’s more likely to get a simple ring with 2 or 3 smaller stones than a giant one that screams attention.

He pays extra attention to the things you look at in stores and has mastered what your “oh, that’s nice” face looks like compared to your “I need to have this, but-” face and will buy whatever you really wanted behind your back, giving them to you as a gift later on when you’ve forgotten about it.

Further into the relationship when you two have moved in, he’ll often wrap his arms around you while you’re cooking, resting his head on your shoulder, or on your back if you’re taller, leaving light butterfly kisses where ever his face is.

I think out of all the adults in Bucci Gang, he’s the most likely to help you with dinner without having to be prompted. Bruno has a sixth sense for when you need him to help, suddenly popping up beside you and cutting vegetables or stirring the pot, giving you a sweet knowing smile whenever you look over. Though, on the weekends, he’s more likely to produce a glass of wine for the two of you while you cook which leads to someone getting tipsier than the other and being kicked out of the kitchen because they’ve knocked over their glass one too many times.

When you’re on the couch, he’ll call you over into his arms or sometimes just pull you into him. He prefers reading a nice book to watching a movie but will sit with you, book in one hand while his other hand plays with your hair or rubs your back. 

Oh, and don’t even get me started on baths together. He installed what is essentially a jacuzzi in your bathroom just so the two of you would have room to be comfortable. Now, the only time you take baths is when you’re together.

Please give this man a massage. He is very stressed and tense, he needs someone to treat him with the same tenderness he gives you. Bruno isn’t one to melt, but he will relax considerably. He’s just more into making you feel good than himself feeling good.

Bruno’s kisses are so sweet. I don’t know how else to describe them. It’s like every ounce of his love and care towards you is put into a spell, which is then put onto his lips and then onto your lips. You never get tired of it. He’s not overly kissy in public, mostly just pecks on the cheek or your hand. In private though, he’s a little more relaxed. 

Favourite places to kiss are usually your lips or neck and shoulder, which often leaves goosebumps down your back and sometimes other things. I honestly don’t think he’s that much into sex. Like, he’ll do it (and well) but I think romance and companionship are more important to him than anything else. If he can trust you, why does he need to do anything else? Your love is more than enough for him.

NSFW

6 1/2″, 2″ thick and pretty. His dick is just... pretty, like the rest of him. I think clean-shaven, uncut maybe?

Alright, look, he’s stand isn’t called Sticky Fingers for no reason. Bruno has been blessed with the magic that is fingering. Just knows exactly where to curl into, where to push, where to pull, swirl, rub, you name it! If you have a vagina he will make you cum multiple times before he fucks you. You know what? Even if you have a dick, he’ll probably do the same. OR he’ll get you really close and then deny, deny, deny. He loves making you writhe and squirm. 

If he makes you cry, he’s a little concerned, but deep down he’s proud of himself. Will always ask you if you’re okay and if you want to continue unless you have already established you’re okay with him making you a complete mess. Maybe he’ll even ask you to wear eyeliner or mascara just to make it run!

This man eats pussy/ass like it’s his last meal. Oral in general is one of his favourite things to do to a partner because he can control it and clearly tell how much you’re enjoying something.

Will 1000% tie you up or use Sticky Fingers to keep you from moving too much. Loves to see you wrapped up in red ropes or silk, unable to move or think because of how much he’s teasing you.

On his more relaxed days, he’ll just use his hands to hold you down or guilt you into staying still. “You want to be good for me, right, cara/caro?”

He loves it when you lose control and clamp (or try to) your legs around him. When you grab his hair and lurch forward to try and encourage him to do more; give you more, but he never does. Not until he wants to.

Oof, but his favourite guilty pleasure? Spit roast with Sticky Fingers. SF eating you out while you try to focus on taking Bruno’s cock in your mouth. Oh, to have you sandwiched in between him and his stand. He would kill to keep you there forever; fucking in and out of you like a seesaw or forcing you to do it yourself.

     Bruno bit his finger to try and keep composure as your eyes rolled back into your head, mouth agape on his length. You looked so pretty like this; visibly fucked out of your mind with his hands tangled in your mess of hair. Sticky Fingers had been lapping over your now soaking wet hole and clit for what felt like ages. Keeping you just on edge. You couldn’t decide what you wanted more, to please Bruno or cum before he wanted you to.

     Sticky Fingers pulled you closer to it’s lips while Bruno thrust his hips forward into the warmth of your mouth, eyelids fluttering as you moaned around him. After a few more minutes, he decided he’d give you your reward finally.

     “Turn around, dolcezza. Come here.” You less than gracefully turned around, feeling some sort of way about not having the constant feeling of his stand on you. Bruno grabs your hips and pulls you onto his aching cock. Both of you moan with the new feeling. “Now, just stay nice and still for me, I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

Can we say breeding kink? Yes, yes we can. We all know he’s nasty. He loves filling you up, feeling his seed drip out of you, cleaning it out of you with his tongue. Fucking anything. And if he does get you pregnant? (Assuming there would be no repercussions with the whole mafia thing) He would 100% take the best care of you. Bruno would massage every bit of you, giving you nice soothing baths (I mean, he’d do that anyway, but he’d put extra care into your baths when you were pregnant.)

No matter what size your baby bump was, he would kiss it every moment he got. He’d sing songs to it or read it stories (which you would be more than happy about because that voice).

The thought of you expanding with something the two of you created is so hot to him. Bruno would keep you like that forever if he could. Oh, and the feeling of him inside of you while you’re so full. Oh. He’s drooling. Just looking down on your nice, round belly and then pounding into you. *chefs kiss.* We stan breeding kink Bruno.

Oh, but let’s turn the tables. Fucking his ass. Oooooh, hell yeah. Slowly pressing into him while tying his hands behind his back or above his head. It makes me feel so many things.

I think he likes to stay on the dominant side with a vagina-having S/O, so he’d likely flip the tables if you allow him to. If you are into being more dominant, he is more than happy to stay under you (figuratively and literally.)

On his more relaxed days, or on days when you’re feeling a little down on yourself, expect SO much praise from this man in the bedroom. He’s gonna kiss every inch of you, caress you. This man will do everything to make you feel better about yourself.

Spanking. Would you let this man smack your ass? I would. On his more stern days, he will 100% flip you over his knee and make you count. If you’re into being on top, though, smack his ass. The biggest blush will sprawl across his face. Oh, and then making him count. God, he gets so loud!

     A loud crack on your ass echoed throughout the room. You gripped the pillow in front of you, burying your face in the plush thing to quiet your moans. Bruno tutted above you.

     “You have to count, dear.” His voice was stern and threatening. “Count with my, (Y/N).”

     You poked your head up from the pillow, whimpering. Suddenly, the pillow was pulled away from you and his arm reached across to the opposite shoulder, holding you up. Another smack.

     “One.” 

     You whimpered again, then stuttered out: “o-one.”

     SMACK! 

     “Two.”

     “~Uuuhnn. Two.”

     SMACK!

     “Three.”

     “~Brunoooo,” you moaned out, unable to say anything else. He let out a sound of disapproval. 

     “Oh, cara. That’s not how you count. We’ll have to start over again. Weren’t you taught this in school?” He chided. You could only muster up a quiet whine, mentally cursing this man for having so much power over you, but still-SMACK!- you loved him.

Public sex is something he’ll never openly admit is a turn on, at least not to the gang or anyone else who isn’t his partner. Oh, but brush up against his chest and “accidentally” grope him or lightly tap his ass while passing behind him and he’ll do the anime thing where their eyes go completely dark. Nothing makes him more sexually frustrated than being interrupted by you touching him during a conversation. 

He’ll usually find a closet to hide you two in and then he’ll give you hell in the form of lots and lots of edging. Sticky Fingers, of course, has your mouth zipped closed the entire time, so as much as you want to scream you can’t. 

Sometimes he’ll stick half of you in the other side of the zipper and just kind of use you like that. Doesn’t matter what end, though he does have a soft spot for fucking your throat.

Since we’re talking about zippers. Yeah, I’m saying it. It’s been done to death, but I can’t get enough of it. Zipping off his dick and leaving it in you all day. It’s practical (when in a fight. He doesn’t need to worry about getting sacked if he doesn’t have anything there!), it’s easy, he gets to feel your tight walls around him all day, you get to feel him rub up against every sweet spot in you. Literally no downside. Unless you have to go to the bathroom.

Bruno won’t admit it, but he saved all the pictures you send him in skimpy clothes, lingerie, naked, etc. on multiple devices. Just in case he’s ever at work and needs something to relieve the tension, or on a job in a hotel, or in the bathroom. You get the point.

Newtmas essay when?

Finally getting to this, thanks for waiting, I needed to go over a few bookmarks. (Warning, this post contains spoilers from the MAZE RUNNER book and FEVER CODE book, so if you haven’t read either or yet and want the jist of my analysis; just know that in general the fandom interpreting Newt as gay before it was revealed on a twitter post was not just a random headcanon and that Thomas in general is portrayed to have very strong unconditional love for Newt throughout the series; and it shows. To the point that even the director for the movie has stated that Newt and Thomas have a strong bond and portrays that in the movies. I will also preface that I am NOT adding personal opinion anywhere here, these are just backings from quotes and how they are thus meant to be taken/read as. My words are taken as a reader who is currently reading Scorch Trials has yet to fully read Death Cure or Crank Palace.) Anways, without further ado at 3AM today, I’ll try my best to explain how even though Dashner tries his best to make Thomas have other, female love interests; he creates a not so subtle gay subtext for Tommy boy here when in the context of interacting with Newt throughout the lore. Apologies beforehand for any grammar mistakes along the way.

To commence, I am going to start with FEVER CODE, as its supposed to act as the story’s preface to the actual events that play out later. Newt and Thomas upon meeting each other describe their presence as “familiar” and or as a “long lost friend” and they genuinely hit it off from the start to the point that Newt is okay with having Thomas see him cry over the fact that he and his sister are separated since he is doomed to be WCKD’s control analysis as he’s the only one lacking immunity from the flare itself. Once Newt is done being emotionally vulnerable we get our first instance of his personal nickname for Thomas: “That’s the way things are Tommy,’ he said his voice not quite steady. ‘The world outside’s gone to hell. Why should we expect any different here? [...] He said it as if they’d been friends for years” (ch. 14).   An interesting note here is that Thomas doesn’t bother to correct him or stifle the moment by feeling that all this information was too much, he genuinely wanted to hear Newt out and is fine with seeing this side of him; if not slightly taken aback by how natural it is that they can converse about such aspects of their lives. In fact, Newt makes such an impact on Thomas that Thomas ends up that same night dreaming of him: “Throughout his shortened night, he dreamed of Newt and Sonya. Of Newt and Lizzy“(Ch. 14). The thing with Thomas though is that the idea of comfort and connection is very foreign to him as he’s been basically isolated all his life with only the adults like Ava to talk to and the one exception being Teresa as his only kid companion. So Thomas didn’t even think he could make others like him for being himself unless they were vital to the overall production of WCKD. Seeing this portion right before the end of chapter 14: “Alby, Minho, Newt, Teresa. Thomas had friends.” shows that Thomas really had to deep dive to see how he deals with personal connections and why he was excited about the notion of friendship. He could’ve been happy with just Teresa, but only fully cemented her bond to him as “friend” when his circle grew and these kids he got to hang with taught him he can be himself, a concept he didn’t realize was possible when all his life was dictated on what he was supposed to learn or do. It becomes especially clear just how controlled his life is with the aspect of sentiment when later on Teresa’s mental communication evokes physcial pain and fear in Thomas. I’ll get back to that later as its more of a small tid bit of Thomas’ view on his forced love interest, Teresa. And yes, I say forced because multiple sentences with Thomas have him even wish he could cease all communication with her. Moving on, let’s talk about mimicking for a second. As humans, we mimic as a behavioral response to become closer to the person we care about. It’s the reason why yawning or laughter is contagious and or why we copy the posture of the person we converse with face to face. Thomas is seen to do this the most with Newt’s quirks. I’ll give the example in chapter 15: “Newt has been promising them that he was saving something special, and he did that annoying zipped-lipped sign every time [...] the little light in his eyes showed he enjoyed every second of their torture” versus Thomas: “Thomas did Newt’s zipped-lipped gesture, and that got him a sharp poke in the ribs”. So, we know enough that Thomas’ mannerisms are developing as a sign that he wants to be closer to Newt and to continue this sense of playfulness they both enjoy from the other. This is the start of their budding bond and a clear indication that they hold each other at greater fondness than the rest through this unconscious copying. Through this copying, they also pick up on emotional cues the other lets up on. Newt is especially good at noticing small things like when Thomas is anxious or overthinking: “He was just shocked that with all their exploring, the others hadn’t already discovered it on their own. And there were supposed to be TWO mazes. How had Newt and his friends not stumbled upon either one of them? ‘Tommy?’ Thomas realized Newt was staring straight at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Sorry,’ he said embarrassed, ‘wandered off for a second there what did you say?’ Newt shook his head in admonishment. ‘Try to keep up, Tommy Are you ready to see the grat outdoors?” (ch. 15). Also in chapter 23: “Tommy?’ It was Newt, breaking him out of his thoughts. ‘I can see your wheels spinnin’ up there.’ He tapped the side of his head”. This furthers Newts perceptiveness on his friend and Thomas’ ability to pick out when he is being looked after. And they bounce off each other really well in that aspect. To the point that Newt can crack a joke he knows will land right on Thomas’ sense of humor: “Newt waggled his fingers in front of Thomas’ face [...] A laugh exploded out of Thomas’ mouth that sent a spray everywhere. ‘Sorry’ he said, wiping his lips on his sleeve” (ch.15). It’s enjoyable to know that at least at a surface level, they have fun together and can cheer the other up if needed or know when to ground the other to reality. It is also through these instances that as a reader I pick up that Thomas’ nervous ticks perhaps allude to an anxiety disorder he has; of which Newt is aware of and never puts Thomas down on for exhibiting. He in fact understands it and deals with it accordingly as he himself has a similar circumstance. SO, what does all this paying attention lead to? Thomas’ devotion to protect Newt. Yeah, thats right I said devotion. Thomas’ actions are influenced by his developed instinct to protect Newt at all costs. Here is the biggest example that comes to mind: “What in the world happened to Newt? -- Less then two hours later, Thomas had spliced together a series of camera clips [...] Thomas turned off the feed. He couldn’t take it anymore...Newt, Newt, Newt, Thomas thought, feeling as if the very air around him were turning black.”(ch.52). Essentially, Thomas seeing Newt plummet to his near death by falling from the maze wall as a result of Newt’s ongoing depressive state, this is the moment that makes Thomas realize WICKD isn’t as good as they seem and that he is going into the maze to save Newt. Its admirable how much self sacrifice Thomas does for someone he cares so much about, to the point that their name is like a mantra. Thats a sensible area of passion and fighting spirit for someone who is “just a friend”.    Oh and, the feeling of fondness is mutual mind you if I haven’t been clear. After experiencing the horrors of cranks for the first time, realizing Newt was not immune, and watching Newt until they entered the pits it has been months since they last interacted; this is their first reunion: “What’s up Tommy?’ Newt exclaimed, his face filled with genuine happiness at the pleasant surprise that’s been sprung on him. Thomas couldn’t remember exactly how long it’d been since he’d seen Newt. ‘You look bloody fantastic for three in the morning” (ch. 23). I need to preface this that Newt DOES NOT mean that sarcastically and that out of all the people in the room (Minho, Chuck and Teresa are there in this scene), Thomas only reacts this way specifically toward seeing Newt is okay and back.   The characters are also not afraid of being physically close. “Well, look who the bloody copper dragged in,’ Newt said, pulling Thomas into a big hug” (ch.31), “They shook hands, and then the two of them set off...” (ch. 31), and my favorite: “Thomas jumped at the sound, then stumbled. Newt tripped over him, and then they were both laughing, legs and arms tangled in a pile on the ground”(ch.32). I don’t think this far in the novel, Thomas has been AS (emphasis on as) comfortable with touch  with anyone else other than Newt. And thats a big step forward on the aspect of trust in a relationship, being able to be comfortable with the presence of another person enough to be as intimate with them as shown here.  And all this, is just fever code itself. Mind you this is not the MEAT of the novels as it came out later. But even without it, lets look at Thomas in Maze now, I’ll try to keep this segment a lot more brief. Here’s Thomas looking respectively at boys his age: “A tall kid with blond hair and a square jaw...a thick, heavy muscled Asian kid folded his arms as he studied Thomas, his tight shirtsleeves rolled up to show off his biceps [...] Newt was taller than Alby too, but looked to be a year or so younger, His hair was blond and cut long, cascading over his T-shirt. Veins stuck out of his muscled arms”(ch. 2). Thomas’ initial reaction to being surrounded by boys is to deeply analyze their rugged good looks and heavily emphasize their best physical traits. When reading this the first time, my mind immediately thought this boy at the very least is supposed to be portrayed as bi, especially when later down the line Teresa gets a similar descriptor: “...despite her paleness, she was really pretty...silky hair, flawless skin, perfect lips, long legs.” So right off the bat, we know that be it boy or girl, Thomas emphasizes how attractive someone looks in his eyes when he truly does have a sense of attraction to them. Case closed. Within the same chapter we get Thomas also immediately clinging onto Newt for a sense of grounding, it is now ingrained in him at this point that the boy is his lifeline, a person to rely on. “Thomas looked over at Newt, hoping for help.” And help he does, Newt in this chapter helps ease his worries, explain a general idea of what the glade is and even pats him on the shoulder a bit to ease tension. And Thomas doesn’t bat an eye in the same way he’s weary of literally everyone else. In fact, he’s eager to stay put with him as shown with; “If Newt went up there, then I wanna talk to him.” And if none of that seals the deal, we got early bird Newt being so touch starved he flattens himself next to Thomas to wake him up at the crack of Dawn in chapter 6: “Someone shook Thomas awake. His eyes snapped open to see a too-close face staring down at him, everything around them still shadowed by the darkness of early morning...’Shh, Greenie. Don’t wanna be waking up Chuckie, now, do we?’ It was Newt --the guy who seemed second in command; the air reeked of his morning breath. Though Thomas was surprised, any alarm melted away immediately”. This whole scene follows firstly by Thomas once again impressed by how strong Newt is and then Newt giving him a rundown of what everyone else was too afraid to show Thomas, the grievers. And you know, this scene could’ve ended well and everything as totally platonic, but then we have “Newt turned to look at him dead in the eye. The first traces of dawn had crept up on them, and Thomas could see EVERY DETAIL OF NEWT’S FACE, HIS SKIN TIGHT, HIS BROW CREASED.” Now, look me in the eye and tell me there is a hetero explanation on looking at your best bro like they are the sun reincarnated themselves. But let’s not hog all the homosexual undertones with Thomas here. Wanna know what Newt’s initial reaction to having a girl in the glade was? “It’s a girl,’ he said [...] Newt shushed them again. ‘That’s not bloody half of it,’ he said, then pointed down into the box. ‘I think she’s dead” (ch.8). It’s actually a stark contrast to the other gladers eagerly wanting to know her age, how pretty she looked, and calling dibs to date her; Newt isn’t interested in any of that, he’s more perplexed on her status and not even bothering to remark on her looks, he was the only one not to and even remarks a few other instances that girls are more Thomas’ domain. For instance, he makes a joke in fever code when Thomas remarks that the girls in the institution were going to tackle him down, Newt proceeds to point out sarcastically something along the lines of “wait, isn’t that YOUR dream though?” So Newt is pretty out spoken of his disinterest in girls, and his full admiration and attention on Thomas. Oh, and yes, Newt immediately switches over to “Tommy” the moment Thomas mentions he hates being called greenie, and once again it just becomes a thing between only the two of them. Newt is also the one to be straight forward about the whole Runners business. He warns Thomas about the dangers and doesn’t necessarily turn him down on his desire to be one, he in fact encouraged him to just wait until the right moment. “No one said you couldn’t, but give it a rest for now”(ch. 15). So once again, Newt is the voice of confidence and reason for Thomas to prosper. In turn, this time around Thomas is the one to catch when something is bothering Newt. For instance, “Newt chewed his fingernails, something he hadn’t seen the older boy do before...he was genuinely concerned -- Newt was one of the few people in the Glade he actually liked ”(ch.16). Interesting how we went from fever code “friend” to “like”. And also, when Newt explains his concern about the runners not coming back yet, Thomas pieces together how scared Newt is of the Maze without being told and goes to stand next to him as a physical presence to ground Newt as they wait near the entrance. In fact, this piece is trivial to understand why Thomas does what he does next. When everyone else had given up on the Runners still outside with 2 minutes left til closing, and Newt was escorted away from the entrance, Thomas waited. And when Thomas saw them, he yells to Newt, realizes he’s too far to do anything, and makes a decision himself. He KNEW how much Newt cared about his fellow Gladers, they were like family or “kin” as its said in the book, so what does he do? “Don’t do it Tommy! Don’t you bloody do it!’ ... Thomas knew he had no choice. He moved. Forward. He squeezed past the connecting rods at the last second and stepped into the maze”(ch.16). Yes, Thomas does this because of his empathy for the Gladers, but the chain reaction of Newt’s concern is what sets his decision in stone. And yet again, Thomas enters the maze for Newt.  And that’s pretty much the constant for the rest of Maze Runner the book, Newt just sticking up for Thomas and Thomas in turn just being happy that: “He was at least relieved that Newt was there” (ch.17). And thats basically their entire dynamic. Newt just going: “If you really did help design the maze Tommy, it’s not your fault. You‘re a kid -- you can’t help what they forced you to do” to ease the survivor’s trauma Thomas has, as well as saying “I actually believe you. You just don’t have an ounce of lying in those eyes of yours. And I can’t bloody believe I’m about to say this...but I’m going back in there to convince those shanks we should go through the griever hole, just like you said”(ch.51); and I think thats the most romantic thing to hear from him. Just right out being all for supporting Thomas no matter what happens as long as he stays alive and continues to fight, he doesn’t care about what happened before. And Thomas eats that up because it fuels him even more to seek out a means to escape for the people (Newt) that deserve a life outside of running from monsters forever. So essentially, I’ll state again, it’s always been Newt the catalyst for Thomas to run head first into the Maze and seek freedom. And with all this I can clear that these two are shown to if not be romantically involved, at least have unconditional love for the other that transcends the author’s original intention.  And with that in mind, here’s the thing with Teresa as a love interest. I can list here quotes of every time she mind speaks to Thomas and how that affects him, but then this would be too long. And this is a newtmas post gosh darn it. Teresa is gleeful to humiliate, control, hurt, and force Thomas to believe they’re in love. In multiple instances we get her barging into his mind unwarranted making him understand that she has full access to his inner most thoughts. Theres nothing romantic about that, and I think its why Thomas ends up being so perceptive to the smallest of gestures that allow him to think on his own and feel like his own person. Something I’ve seen Brenda do later in scorch, and something I’ve seen Newt do since the very beginning is that they allow Thomas to come to his own conclusions in order to create his own opinions on the matters at hand. Thomas’ love language revolves around words of affirmation. He likes it when people confirm his thoughts are valid and that remind him that WICKD can’t hurt him anymore now that he has the power to be his own person. This is where Newt comes in very handy. He allows Thomas to grow in ways his female love interests have yet to show, sorry Brenda but I’ve heard you were trying to unite all immunes together to the safe haven by the end and in a sense still only using Thomas to get by; I still think she was the better call than teresa of course and I have no remorse for Teresa getting smushed by a boulder. But essentially my point here is that, how do you fail to make your initial love interests clash so badly where one has no real care about the others well being so long as everything goes according to WCKD by using a form of gaslighting and manipulation? AND THOMAS HAS STATED HIS DISCOMFORT ON THIS MULTIPLE TIMES, but the narrative always erases these instances from his mind in place of pity for Teresa’s well being (as you can tell, Teresa through this becomes my least favorite character, I can rant about her some othe time though with proper backing). The narrative in turn treats it all like a joke. I understand there are scenes where Thomas is worried about her and looks out to make sure shes ok, but even then he doesn’t know how to react with mental images of her kissing his cheek or when she screams the next minute that she doesn’t know who he is or how hes speaking into her mind. And thats because they can’t properly communicate their emotions to the other, not even in fever code could Thomas give a forward answer if he loved Teresa or not, she just assumed. Come to think of it, Thomas really doesn’t show much affection to Teresa of his own accord. So then, how DOES Thomas show his affection? Thomas provides acts of service as his love language, if he cares about you enough he will risk his life for you. Why? Because Thomas values putting the people he loves foremost knowing full well they are what help him have purpose and succeed in continuing on. In a way, Newt and Thomas’ dynamic works in this instance because they balance the other out and because they have seen each other at their worst and at their best. In a way, that's why knowing the ending of the books makes it harder to accept that Thomas would just easily take the shot...when all his life clung to Newt’s survival. But that’s a story for another time where I compare the movies (of which let me make that clear, yes I prefer) over the books. For now just know that the book may have done this by accident, maybe not, but at the end of the day theres solid proof that Thomas and Newt care about each other in a way that is separately portrayed from their connection to the other glade members, and have this consistency of soft moments running through the entirety of the series. In conclusion; newtmas. Newtmas. NEWTMAS, etc.

The Mystery of the Vanishing Elf

First of all, this is not my meta; I’m posting this on behalf of Azh, who wrote it and wanted it on tumblr. (They did say I could take credit for bothering them to write it, and for helping kick around ideas, so I will :D)

Link to the meta on AO3

[all page numbers from the 2007 HarperCollins edition of The Children of Húrin, ISBN 978 0 00 724622 9]

Thanks to starlightwalking for beta-ing!

So I just finished reading the Children of Húrin—which, let’s be honest, I was mostly reading to get the expanded version of the Túrin and Beleg content.  So at first when I started reading the second half — after Beleg’s death — I figured the reason I was less drawn to the text was because, well, Beleg was dead and therefore was less present in the narrative.  After I’d finished the book and put it down, though, I realized it was a little more than that.  Beleg wasn’t just less present. He was completely absent. This is no exaggeration: between the last mention of Beleg’s name in Chapter IX (“The Death of Beleg”) and Túrin’s death, when Gurthang asks to forget the “blood of Beleg my master” there is a single mention of his name, and it’s only a passing description of Gurthang itself as “the Black Sword of Beleg” (pg. 237).

Túrin never says his name again.

What’s going on here?  This is, quite frankly, bizarre. The entire first half of the narrative pivots around the relationship between Túrin and Beleg.  Beleg is the one who finds Túrin when he’s just a child his mother is sending to Thingol in Doriath. Beleg is his friend when’s growing up on Doriath — one of two really mentioned, the other being Nellas — and when Túrin is grown and goes off to be with the marchwardens, “Beleg and Túrin were companions in every peril” (pg 86).  When Thingol and Mablung and everyone else are ready to assume the worst of Túrin, it’s Beleg who shows up with Nellas to tell them what really happened, and it’s notable that this means Beleg didn’t see what happened; he just implicitly trusted Túrin and was the only one to do so.  They care about each other a lot. There is a brief portion of time while Túrin is with the outlaws that they aren’t together (that’s a whole nother post in itself) but Beleg returns to Túrin on Amon Rudh, “in this way, Beleg came back to Túrin, yielding to his love against his wisdom.  Túrin was glad indeed, for he had often regretted his stubbornness; and now the desire of his heart was granted…it seemed to [the outlaws] there had been a tryst between Beleg and their caption.” (pg 139).  These boys are in love. It’s textual.  There’s only one other character Túrin is described as loving in a similar way, and it’s Níniel (Niënor), whom he marries.

In fact, it’s staggering that Níniel is the only other one (pg 218 “Turambar restrained himself no longer, but asked her in marriage”), because there is a very big elephant in the room, and it’s the person whom Níniel is occasionally compared to, Finduilas.  Finduilas is mentioned three times in the text after her death, including twice by Túrin himself in direct quotations:

- “Then Turambar who led the men started back and covered his eyes, and trembled; for it seemed that he saw the wraith of a slain maiden that lay on the grave of Finduilas.” (pg. 214, when Túrin first finds Níniel)

- "But even as he spoke, he wondered, and mused in his mind: 'Or can it be that one so evil and fell shuns the Crossings, even as the Orcs? Haudh-en-Elleth! Does Finduilas lie still between me and my doom?’” (pg. 229, when Túrin is preparing to fight Glaurung for the last time),

- “Therefore he arose and went to the Crossings of Teiglin, and as he passed by Haudh-en-Elleth he cried: 'Bitterly have I paid, O Finduilas! that ever I gave heed to the Dragon. Send me now counsel!’” (pg. 253, after he’s killed Brandir and is desperately trying to deny that Níniel was Niënor, his sister)

This is huge. And it’s huge, because Túrin is not in love with Finduilas. This, again, is explicit, and textual, "In truth Finduilas was torn in mind. For she honoured Gwindor and pitied him, and wished not to add one tear to his suffering; but against her will her love for Turin grew day by day, and she thought of Beren and Luthien. But Turin was not like Beren! He did not scorn her, and was glad in her company; yet she knew that he had no love of the kind she wished. His mind and heart were elsewhere, by rivers in springs long past.” (pg 166, ”Túrin in Nargothrond”). So.  Túrin never falls in love with Finduilas, and, in fact, the reason he doesn’t fall in love with her is that his “mind and heart are elsewhere”.  Hmmmm. I wonder where his heart is?

Okay, so then why is it that Túrin repeatedly refers to Finduilas but not to Beleg?  It’s really obvious based on the quotes I’ve given so far that he was in love with Beleg (and for god’s sake, the man doesn’t talk for a YEAR after Beleg’s death), that he was not in love with Finduilas, and that he was (or thought he was, at least) in love with Níniel, enough to ask her to marry him.  So where the hell is Beleg in his thoughts for all this time when he’s falling for Níniel and thinking back to Finduilas?

For the answer to this, we need to consider the dual nature of Níniel’s relationship to Túrin, and what its source is.

Yes, Túrin loves Níniel, as his wife, but we know he also loved his sister Niënor, as a sister, and part of the reason he kills himself is that he can’t handle that he’s driven his sister to her death via incest (albeit accidental incest).  It’s notable that Túrin loves Finduilas as a sister,

“Then Turin spoke freely to [Finduilas] concerning these things, though he did not name the land of his birth, nor any of his kindred; and on a time he said to her: 'I had a sister, Lalaith, or so I named her; and of her you put me in mind. But Lalaith was a child, a yellow flower in the green grass of spring; and had she lived she would now, maybe, have become dimmed with grief. But you are queenly, and as a golden tree; I would I had a sister so fair.’” (pg. 164, “Túrin in Nargothrond”.)

So these references to Finduilas make a narrative kind of sense — in addition to it mostly happening as Túrin is passing her grave, it’s a textual reminder of a hidden truth: Níniel is not just Túrin’s lover, but also his sister.  He even finds her upon the grave of someone he loved as a sister.  But there’s another truth hidden in the text as well, and it’s related to Níniel’s nature as Túrin’s lover.  Because let’s be real, if he found her on the grave of someone he loved very firmly in a non-romantic way, why does he become romantically interested in her?  She’s his sister—obviously he doesn’t know that, but the narrative is saying it very, very clearly.  Well…there’s a confounding factor.

Here’s how Túrin finds Níniel (pg. 214): “Now it chanced that some of the woodmen of Brethil came by in that hour from a foray against Orcs, hastening over the Crossings of Teiglin to a shelter that was near; and there came a great flash of lightning, so that the Haudh-en-Elleth was lit as with a white flame.”

And here is how Túrin discovers that he has killed Beleg (pg. 155): “But as he stood, finding himself free, and ready to sell his life dearly against imagined foes, there came a great flash of lightning above them, and in its light he looked down on Beleg's face.”

The narrative does draw a parallel between Níniel and Beleg, an extremely strong (if subtle) one.  It uses literally the same phrase to set up the scene: “there came a great flash of lightning”.  So there’s a pretty clear answer as to why Túrin might associate Níniel with romantic love—he doesn’t just find her on his as-it-were sister’s grave, he finds her in a way that hearkens strongly back to the last time he ever saw his lover’s face.

So why doesn’t he think of Beleg now?

Why is the thought of his lover—whose loss cut him so deeply he didn’t speak for a year—so far out of his mind at this moment that his name isn’t even mentioned, even when narratively there’s no way he shouldn’t think of him?

Okay, I’ve drawn this out enough, so let’s cut to the chase: Glaurung. Glaurung, who is responsible for the first hidden truth that I mentioned, the more textually explicit one, that Níniel is Niënor, Túrin’s sister.  He bespells Niënor upon Amon Ethir, “Then he drew her eyes into his, and her will swooned. And it seemed to her that the sun sickened and all became dim about her; and slowly a great darkness drew down on her and in that darkness there was emptiness; she knew nothing, and heard nothing, and remembered nothing,” (pg 209, “The Journey of Morwen and Niënor”) causing her to lose her memories and with her memories her name and therefore any way for Túrin to know who she is.  Glaurung earlier bespells Túrin as well, “Without fear Turin looked in those eyes as he raised up his sword; and straightway he fell under the dreadful spell of the dragon, and was as one turned to stone.” (pg. 178, “the Fall of Nargothrond”)  The first, obvious result of Glaurung’s spell (and the only explicit one) is that he leaves Finduilas and rushes off to try and find Morwen and Niënor.  Now, we’re meant to believe that this is all that the spell does, since in “The Return of Túrin to Dor-Lómin”, pg. 166, the text notes, “And suddenly a black wrath shook him; for his eyes were opened, and the spell of Glaurung loosed its last threads, and he knew the lies with which he had been cheated.”

But I don’t think this makes sense.  I think Tolkien is being poetical here and the “last threads” he’s talking about are specifically the lies about Finduilas.  A number of Túrin’s conversations with Níniel point towards the fact that he’s forgotten something really important and that in that regard the dragon’s spell is still intact.  For example, when Túrin tells Níniel what to call him (pgs 217-218, “Niënor in Brethil”):

“Then she paused as if listening for some echo; but she said: 'And what does that say, or is it just the name for you alone?'

“’It means,' said he, 'Master of the Dark Shadow. For I also, Niniel, had my darkness, in which dear things were lost; but now I have overcome it, I deem.’”

“My darkness” is eerily similar to the repeated motif of Níniel’s darkness, which explicitly refers to the spell cast on her by Glaurung.  

“Behind her lay only an empty darkness” (pg 213, “Niënor in Brethil”); “it seem to her that the darkness that lay behind her was overtaking her again” (pg 214, “Niënor in Brethil”); “it seemed to her that she had found at last something that she had sought in the darkness” (pg. 215, “Niënor in Brethil”); and the two most relevant quotations, “And at that name she looked up, and she shook her head, but said: 'Níniel.' And that was the first word that she spoke after her darkness, and it was her name among the woodmen ever after” (pg 216, ”Niënor in Brethil”); and “when at length she had learned enough to speak with her friends she would say: 'What is the name of this thing? For in my darkness I lost it.’” (pg. 217, “Niënor in Brethil”)

So here it is: Túrin has lost “dear things” in “his darkness” (Glaurung’s spell) and he thinks that Níniel is what he has lost, but she isn’t—or she isn’t the only thing that’s missing. Glaurung has ripped out of Túrin’s mind the memory of the only person he’s ever had romantic feelings for—Beleg—and because he’s confused and trying to find something to fill that gap, Níniel gets cast in a dual role—not just sister (with her ties to Finduilas) but also lover (with her subtler ties to poor, missing Beleg).  

This theory also has significant implications for Túrin’s death, since that’s the only time that Beleg is mentioned again, apart from a tangential sidenote.  When Mablung finally confirms to Túrin what he’s already beginning to fear is the truth, that Níniel was his sister Niënor, he runs up to the Cabed-en-Aras, from which Níniel has thrown herself, and he asks his sword to kill him. His sword is Gurthang, which was Anglachel, made by Eöl, the sword that Thingol gave to Beleg and that Túrin used to accidentally kill him, and the response is somewhat unexpected, since up till now we haven’t had any indication that it’s a talking sword,

“‘And from the blade rang a cold voice in answer: 'Yes, I will drink your blood, that I may forget the blood of Beleg my master…I will slay you swiftly.’” (pg. 256, “The Death of Túrin”)

Interestingly, this is after the sword has been reforged, and there’s no particular reason it should refer to Beleg as its master — after all, Túrin has been wielding it for years, and it was made by someone else entirely.  So then, why?  And why does it ask to forget his blood in particular?

Because Túrin has remembered, finally.  Whether the sword is picking up on the mood, whether it’s a narrative device, or whether it isn’t even really talking and it’s just Túrin’s mind playing tricks on him in his last extremis, I don’t know—though I favor the latter interpretation, particularly because Túrin himself is referred to as “the Black Sword” on numerous occasions.  But the important point here is Túrin has remembered, because Glaurung is dead, and his memory spells die with him, “Then Nienor sat as one stunned, but Glaurung died; and with his death the veil of his malice fell from her, and all her memory grew clearer before her, from day unto day, neither did she forget any of those things that had befallen her since she lay on Haudh-en-Elleth.” (pg. 243, “The Death of Glaurung”)

So Túrin knows by now exactly what he’s done—not only inadvertently marrying his sister but betraying the one great romantic love of his life.  The one he has probably just remembered accidentally killing in great detail.  It’s probably quite present in his mind when, rather than throw himself over the waterfall as Níniel did, he flings himself onto the very same sword that killed the only person he was ever in love with, whose name he has finally, finally been able to bring to mind…

In sum, Glaurung erases Beleg’s memory so thoroughly from Túrin’s mind that only tiny, hidden glimpses remain, even in the text.  This is the solution to the mystery of the vanishing Elf; it explains why Beleg vanishes right up until the very end, and it ties together the sense I had when I was reading the second half of something missing, something hidden, something incomplete.  It is, I imagine, the same way Túrin must have felt after he awoke—as he thought, completely—from the spell that Glaurung laid upon him the first time they fought.

[A/N: I also wrote a fic based on this premise: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28980519 ]

Hi, Dr. Reames! I just read your take on Song of Achilles and it got me thinking. Do you think there might be a general issue with the way women are written in mlm stories in general? Because I don't think it's the first time I've seen something like this happen.

And my next question is, could you delve further into this thing you mention about modern female authors writing women? How could we, beginner female writers, avoid falling into this awful representations of women in our writing?

Thank you for your time!

[It took a while to finish this because I wrote, re-wrote, and re-wrote it. Still not sure I like it, but I need to let it go. It could be 3xs as long.]

I’ll begin with the second half of the question, because it’s simpler. How do we, as women authors, avoid writing women in misogynistic ways?

Let me reframe that as how can we, as female authors, write negative (even quite nasty) female characters without falling into misogynistic tropes? Also, how can we write unsympathetic, but not necessarily “bad” female characters, without it turning misogynistic?

Because people are people, not genders, not all women are good, nor all men bad. Most of us are a mix. If we should avoid assuming powerful women are all bitches, by the same token, some women are bitches (powerful or not).

ALL good characterization comes down to MOTIVE. And careful characterization of minority characters involves fair REPRESENTATION. (Yes, women are a minority even if we’re 51% of the population.)

The question ANY author must ask: why am I making this female character a bitch? How does this characterization serve the larger plot and/or characterization? WHY is she acting this way?

Keep characters complex, even the “bad guys.” Should we choose to make a minority character a “bad guy,” we need to have a counter example—a real counter, not just a token who pops in briefly, then disappears. Yeah, maybe in an ideal world we could just let our characters “be,” but this isn’t an ideal world. Authors do have an audience. I’m a lot less inclined to assume stereotyping when we have various minority characters with different characterizations.

By the same token, however, don’t throw a novel against the wall if the first minority character is negative. Read further to decide if it’s a pattern. I’ve encountered reviews that slammed an author for stereotyping without the reader having finished the book. I’m thinking, “Uh…if you’d read fifty more pages….” Novels have a developmental arc. And if you’ve got a series, that, too, has a developmental arc. One can’t reach a conclusion about an author’s ultimate presentation/themes until having finished the book, or series.*

Returning to the first question, the appearance of misogyny depends not only on the author, but also on when she wrote, even why she’s writing. Authors who are concerned with matters such as theme and message are far more likely to think about such things than those who write for their own entertainment and that of others, which is more typical of Romance.

On average, Romance writers are a professionalized bunch. They have national and regional chapters of the Romance Writers of America (RWA), newsletters and workshops that discuss such matters as building plot tension, character dilemmas, show don’t tell, research tactics, etc. Yet until somewhat recently (early/mid 2010s), and a series of crises across several genres (not just Romance), treatment of minority groups hadn’t been in their cross-hairs. Now it is, with Romance publishers (and publishing houses more generally) picking up “sensitivity readers” in addition to the other editors who look at a book before its publication.

Yet sensitivity readers are hired to be sure lines like “chocolate love monkey” do not show up in a published novel. Yes, that really was used as an endearment for a black man in an M/M Romance, which (deservedly) got not just the author but the publishing house in all sorts of hot water. Yet misogyny, especially more subtle misogyny in the way of tropes, is rarely on the radar.

I should add that I wouldn’t categorize The Song of Achilles as an M/M historical Romance. In fact, I’m not sure what to call novels about myths, as myths don’t exist in actual historical periods. When should we set a novel about the Iliad? The Bronze Age, when Homer said it happened, or the Greek Dark Age, which is the culture Homer actually described? They’re pretty damn different. I’d probably call The Song of Achilles an historical fantasy, especially as mythical creatures are presented as real, like centaurs and god/desses.

Back to M/M Romance: I don’t have specific publishing stats, but it should surprise no one that (like most of the Romance genre), the vast bulk of authors of M/M Romance are women, often straight and/or bi- women. The running joke seems to be, If one hot man is good, two hot men together are better. 😉 Yes, there are also trans, non-binary and lesbian authors of M/M Romance, and of course, bi- and gay men who may write under their own name or a female pseudonym, but my understanding is that straight and bi- cis-women authors outnumber all of them.

Just being a woman, or even a person in a female body, does not protect that author from misogyny. And if she’s writing for fun, she may not be thinking a lot about what her story has to “say” in its subtext and motifs, even if she may be thinking quite hard about other aspects of story construction. This can be true of other genres as well (like historical fantasy).

What I have observed for at least some women authors is the unconscious adoption of popular tropes about women. Just as racism is systemic, so is sexism. We swim in it daily, and if one isn’t consciously considering how it affects us, we can buy into it by repeating negative ideas and acting in prescribed ways because that’s what we learned growing up. If writing in a symbol-heavy genre such as mythic-driven fantasy, it can be easy to let things slip by—even if they didn’t appear in the original myth, such as making Thetis hostile to Patroklos, the classic Bitchy Mother-in-Law archetype.

I see this sort of thing as “accidental” misogyny. Women authors repeat unkind tropes without really thinking them through because it fits their romantic vision. They may resent it and get defensive if the trope is pointed out. “Don’t harsh my squee!” We can dissect why these tropes persist, and to what degree they change across generations—but that would end up as a (probably controversial) book, not a blog entry. 😊

Yet there’s also subconscious defensive misogyny, and even conscious/semi-conscious misogyny.

Much debate/discussion has ensued regarding “Queen Bee Syndrome” in the workplace and whether it’s even a thing. I think it is, but not just for bosses. I also would argue that it’s more prevalent among certain age-groups, social demographics, and professions, which complicates recognizing it.

What is Queen Bee Syndrome? Broadly, when women get ahead at the expense of their female colleagues who they perceive as rivals, particularly in male-dominated fields, hinging on the notion that There Can Be Only One (woman). It arises from systemic sexism.

Yes, someone can be a Queen Bee even with one (or two) women buddies, or while claiming to be a feminist, supporting feminist causes, or writing feminist literature. I’ve met a few. What comes out of our mouths doesn’t necessarily jive with how we behave. And ticking all the boxes isn’t necessary if you’re ticking most of them. That said, being ambitious, or just an unpleasant boss/colleague—if its equal opportunity—does not a Queen Bee make. There must be gender unequal behavior involved.

What does any of that have to do with M/M fiction?

The author sees the women characters in her novel as rivals for the male protagonists. It gets worse if the women characters have some “ownership” of the men: mothers, sisters, former girlfriends/wives/lovers. I know that may sound a bit batty. You’re thinking, Um, aren’t these characters gay or at least bi- and involved with another man, plus—they’re fictional? Doesn’t matter. Call it fantasizing, authorial displacement, or gender-flipped authorial insert. We authors (and I include myself in this) can get rather territorial about our characters. We live in their heads and they live in ours for months on end, or in many cases, years. They’re real to us. Those who aren't authors often don’t quite get that aspect of being an author. So yes, sometimes a woman author acts like a Queen Bee to her women characters. This is hardly all, or even most, but it is one cause of creeping misogyny in M/M Romance.

Let’s turn to a related problem: women who want to be honorary men. While I view this as much more pronounced in prior generations, it’s by no means disappeared. Again, it’s a function of systemic sexism, but further along the misogyny line than Queen Bees. Most Queen Bees I’ve known act/react defensively, and many are (imo) emotionally insecure. It’s largely subconscious. More, they want to be THE woman, not an honorary man.

By contrast, women who want to be honorary men seem to be at least semi-conscious of their misogyny, even if they resist calling it that. These are women who, for the most part, dislike other women, regard most of “womankind” as either a problem or worthless, and think of themselves as having risen above their gender.

And NO, this is not necessarily religious—sometimes its specifically a-religious.

“I want to be an honorary man” women absolutely should NOT be conflated with butch lesbians, gender non-conformists, or frustrated FTMs. That plays right into myths the queer community has combated for decades. There’s a big difference between expressing one’s yang or being a trans man, and a desire to escape one’s womanhood or the company of other women. “Honorary men” women aren’t necessarily queer. I want to underscore that because the concrete example I’m about to give does happen to be queer.

I’ve talked before about Mary Renault’s problematic portrayal of women in her Greek novels (albeit her earlier hospital romances don’t show it as much). Her own recorded comments make it clear that she and her partner Julie Mullard didn’t want to be associated with other lesbians, or with women much at all. She was also born in 1905, living at a time when non-conforming women struggled. If extremely active in anti-apartheid movements in South Africa, Renault and Mullard were far less enthused by the Gay Rights Movement. Renault even criticized it, although she wrote back kindly to her gay fans.

The women in Renault’s Greek novels tend to be either bitches or helpless, reflecting popular male perceptions of women: both in ancient Greece and Renault’s own day. If we might argue she’s just being realistic, that ignores the fact one can write powerful women in historical novels and still keep it attitudinally accurate. June Rachuy Brindel, born in 1919, author of Ariadne and Phaedra, didn’t have the same problem, nor did Martha Rofheart, born in 1917, with My Name is Sappho. Brindel’s Ariadne is much more sympathetic than Renault’s (in The King Must Die).

Renault typically elevates (and identifies with) the “rational” male versus the “irrational” female. This isn’t just presenting how the Greeks viewed women; it reflects who she makes the heroes and villains in her books. Overall, “good” women are the compliant ones, and the compliant women are tertiary characters.

Women in earlier eras who were exceptional had to fight multiple layers of systemic misogyny. Some did feel they had to become honorary men in order to be taken seriously. I’d submit Renault bought into that, and it (unfortunately) shows in her fiction, as much as I admire other aspects of her novels.

So I think those are the three chief reasons we see women negatively portrayed in M/M Romance (or fiction more generally), despite being written by women authors.

------------------------------------

*Yeah, yeah, sometimes it’s such 2D, shallow, stereotypical presentation that I, as a reader, can conclude this author isn’t going to get any better. Also, the publication date might give me a clue. If I’m reading something published 50 years ago, casual misogyny or racism is probably not a surprise. If I don’t feel like dealing with that, I close the book and put it away.

But I do try to give the author a chance. I may skim ahead to see if things change, or at least suggest some sort of character development. This is even more the case with a series. Some series take a loooong view, and characters alter across several novels. Our instant-gratification world has made us impatient. Although by the same token, if one has to deal with racism or sexism constantly in the real world, one may not want to have to watch it unfold in a novel—even if it’s “fixed” later. If that’s you, put the book down and walk away. But I’d just suggest not writing a scathing review of a novel (or series) you haven’t finished. 😉

the many faces of tom riddle, part 5

 - more myth than man... or not? the mortality of tom riddle and the anatomy of a villain-

That leaves us with Ralph Fiennes’ portrayal of adult Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort in movies 4-8.

I generally find adult Tom Riddle disappointing, even in the books, in terms of character depth. Instead of delving into his motivations and the inner psychology of a villain, we get... slight body horror? And in the movies, it’s even more egregious. 

If a story is as good as its villain, adult Tom Riddle is a bit of a let-down, especially on-screen.

“I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost . . . but still, I was alive.”

Perhaps the very first time I watched it, I found this scary, but I must confess that nowadays, Voldemort’s resurrection is more funny to me than anything else. The forked tongue and the nose slits, yes, are supposed to allude to Tom Riddle’s loss of humanity, but I don’t think it...worked out that way in practice.

I know that’s how it is in the books, but ugly equals evil (and vice versa) is a tired trope. not only that, but under the CGI, Lord Voldemort is so difficult to relate to, so inhuman, that it’s hard to (1) see his true depravity (2) connect with him emotionally (3) at least for me, not laugh at him flapping around the graveyard in GOF like an oversized crow. 

Now, the reason I’m going on about this is not (just) me being petty. Lord Voldemort is the Boggart for most of the characters in the HP universe, meaning their greatest fear is Lord Voldemort. He represents Fear; as such, he should be utterly terrifying. Now, I don’t mean horrifying in that sense, but Voldemort’s grand entrance should at least feel somewhat unsettling, have some sort of a Gothic atmosphere...

"But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron."

Visually, this looks great. But it’s not scary. And I’m not a purist by any means, but the words are scarier than the book. Darkness induces fear. 

“The lack of any kind of visual stimuli increases anxiety, uncertainty, and tension.”

So, having Voldemort’s pale body materialize isn’t as scary as it could be.

Furthermore, I think Fiennes’ overexaggerated expressions would actually come across as properly horrifying/threatening rather than funny if they just left his face alone. Yes, Fiennes does manage to emote the fear and the anger through the CGI, but it’s like he’s too alien to be scary, at least to me. The amount of memes with Voldemort suggest I’m not the only one this way inclined.

I think there’s probably a problem going on with the uncanny valley. (Images from the Mori essay linked).

[When things are still]

[Creepy things are creepier when moving]

Now, I assume Voldemort is meant to be zombie-creepy, or at least that how Harry describes him in the books.

"The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry...and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's but with slits for nostrils...."

Now, we can’t get Harry’s experience of being haunted by Voldemort in his dreams, because what I think makes Voldemort’s countenance so truly frightening to the other characters isn’t his snake-like nose or his red eyes, but the potential. Voldemort is, in essence, the Grim Reaper. You are at his mercy, and you’re probably going to be dead. 

“This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.“

And yes, Voldemort can be quite funny and witty, but..

“I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers will give their right hands to perform.” (To Peter Pettigrew)

...it’s still incredibly dark, sadistic humour. Whereas the teenage Tom Riddle we’ve been discussing has just barely dipped his toes into evil, Voldemort is, well... swimming in it. At this point, he think he undeniably enjoys causing pain.

And much of what makes Voldemort scary is subtle. 

For example, what I personally consider haunting is the fact that he’s got a cave full of Inferi. A cave full of reanimated dead bodies. 

Either he dug them up, which is unlikely... or perhaps, a twenty-seven-or-so-year-old Tom Riddle would lie in wait like a bird of prey, very quietly and patiently, perhaps reading a book, waiting for an unsuspecting Muggle to wander past. Maybe killing is a game to him at this point, when it’s not so personal as killing Harry Potter. Maybe it’s a whispered Avada Kedavra, and then he carries the dead body away to his cave. Maybe he Imperiuses them to walk off the cliff. Maybe he tortures them first.

Shudder.

And I don’t think you can show that kind of horror through any CGI or make-up, so...

You know what is terrifying? Revolting? True crime; real-life people who do unspeakably horrible things. And I think a lot was missed out on, in stripping Tom Riddle physically of his humanity. Yes, Riddle is a monster...

But, as we’ve seen, he’s a human monster, not some eldritch horror from the seventh level of hell or something.

I just think it would be interesting to have this perfectly normal-looking human do all the horrific things Voldemort does. I want to see that sick joy in a human face and feel disgusted. I want to see fear make his bottom lip tremble, and feel a misplaced sense of empathy. (Think President Snow from the Hunger Games -- now, that’s a sick, twisted villain who we can relate to as a human being, but still love to hate -- or what about The Joker?).

And out of everything they chose to CGI, why on earth did they not make his eyes scarlet? That might have made him look at least somewhat menacing, rather than a failed lab experiment.

(Don’t even get me started on his and Bellatrix’s death scenes in the movies-)

Here’s President Snow. He’s got a cute little granddaughter, he sends kiddies to kill each other Battle Royale-style every year, and he poisons all his political opponents. He’s also a master manipulator and has a penchant for white roses. They cover up the smell of the sores in his mouth from eating the poison too, to conceal his treachery.

Heath Ledger as the Joker in Dark Knight (2008), who is, according to NYT (which I totally agree with), the best Joker. Now this is a villain done right, with many Voldemort-like traits. On a scale of one-to-ten, he’s absolutely terrifying. Why? He’s (unlike Voldemort in the movies) incredibly intelligent, shows young-Tom-Riddle-like skills for charm and manipulation, plays with humans like they’re his own personal psychology experiment (and to hell with the Institutional Review Board), and has one, single, very clear goal -- chaos. Like Voldemort, he wears an inhuman mask that’s not horrifying in its own right; but unlike Voldemort, the human is all there -- terrifying, real, and with a bottomless, obsessive desire to destroy. His disordered thinking is all out there for the audience to see. The Joker’s motivation is to enjoy himself; whereas Voldemort seems to lack drive. Why does he want to take over the world -- who knows, with Voldemort? The Joker wants to see it burn.

Let’s try to do the same with Lord Voldemort:

[SLIGHT FLASH WARNING]

I had to go with this because Voldemort isn’t legitimately terrifying in many scenes. And yes, this unrefined anger somewhat speaks to Tom’s immaturity

By this point, seventy-one year old Tom Riddle is a hollowed-out shell of a human being. After decades of building his power, he was defeated by a one-year-old, and ended up slumming it as a spirit for a decade, got defeated again, was a shrivelled-up baby for a year, then finally got his body back.

He’s angry, okay! And Fiennes does a great job of portraying the sheer, destructive, unbridled rage of this character.

The body language. again, since his face is inhuman, this is super important. and Fiennes’ body language is great. Voldemort/Riddle commits to his actions. He is very emotionally-driven.

But yet, he doesn’t feel capable, in the way that the Joker or President Snow do. Yeah, we know anecdotally that he’s incredibly evil, sadistic, and second only to Dumbledore in terms of power, but he loses to a baby, and then that same baby as a teenager. So, we really could have done with seeing Voldemort’s power, cruelty, and evil firsthand a lot more often.

Voldemort is not well-characterized. I don’t understand his motives, and the ones that I do understand are not compelling.

Not to die? Well, he’s already made several Horcruxes. Why not sit back and relax? Why start a war and risk himself?

JKR said that Voldemort’s great desire was to become all-powerful and eternal. But that’s... boring! It does little to tell us about Voldemort, other than that he’s a villain and a wannabe dictator. 

Furthermore, the charm, manipulation, and cunning that are hallmarks of younger Tom Riddle’s personality are gone.

Is Voldemort (to return to Jungian terms) all shadow? An empty creature of simple creation and destruction, perhaps? We’ll discuss this further down...

And this isn’t a problem of having a fantastical world with magic and the like. Grindelwald’s quiet, self-possessed, almost coy “So you think you can hold me?” was infinitely scarier than anything that has ever come out of Voldemort’s mouth. It was chilling. 

OOTP is my favorite book, and the Ministry sequence is one of my favourite in the films. 

This scene where he psyches out Harry, talking so quietly that he could just be a little voice inside his head (and again, during the possession scene)? Absolute perfection. 

Why? Because this showcases what’s truly scary about him. Voldemort can get into your head. He can make you do things. And perhaps, if we had seen that more often, we’d understand how scary he is.

I wish this had been his grand entrance, and not whatever that scene in GOF was. Somehow, him screeching “I WANT TO SEE THE LIGHT LEAVE YOUR EYES!” is not menacing. At all. 

But, I can’t help but think how much greater the emotional affect would be if he had more human features (think the burned-and-blurred, waxy features from Dumbledore’s memory). 

Just imagine these scenes if Voldemort looked human, and spoke as quietly as he did in this one.

Because of the reason that I have little to go on in terms of characterization that I haven’t already covered, we’ll discuss the myth and legend of Lord Voldemort.

I can’t decide if the statue in the films is supposed to be the Angel of Death or the Grim Reaper. He has a skeleton and carries a scythe, but he also has wings. There are so many different interpretations, attitudes towards, and personifications of Death across the world that I don’t want to draw any one conclusion. But I must wonder if Lord Voldemort, with his yew-and-phoenix wand (which carries heavy symbolism of immortality and rebirth) and almost deified figure is meant to be a personification of Death himself? His name, Lord Voldemort, is a shade close to Lord Death.

For years, it has stumped me that wizards and witches are afraid to utter Voldemort’s name, especially since we only see the Taboo in the middle of the last book. It didn’t make sense just based on fear; in the real world, we don’t circumvent Hitler’s name, for example.

Perhaps this may have been obvious to others, but it wasn’t to me.

Here’s a counterargument to myself; why Voldemort shouldn’t look human.

Voldemort, in the Wizarding World, is seen as a literal deity.

I promised to attempt to answer this question in Part 3: 

And so, I can’t help but wonder if the opposite is true… if Tom Riddle creates Horcruxes, would that grant him additional magic powers?

In Part 3, I likened Tom Riddle to a sorcerer in Russian folklore, Koschei the Deathless, also famous for sequestering his soul in objects. This source suggests that Koschei was considered not an ordinary magician, but a representative of the ‘other’ world, the world of death.

So, what if... creating Horcruxes makes you... more than human? Now, I could definitely see god-like status being appealing to sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle. Perhaps, even appealing enough to kill for. Now, his proclivity for Avada Kedavra makes sense. We know it’s an incredibly sinister spell, but at the same time, it’s a very humane way to kill. Why might it be so horrifying?

Here’s a weird theory.

To the best of my knowledge, no one but Voldemort is seen using the Killing Curse more than once or twice. 

Perhaps, ordinary mortals can only cast Avada Kedavra a few times, but Tom, having split his soul and having become in some way a non-human instrument of Death, can cast it however many times as he likes, and that is part of what serves to make him so terrifying.

This makes the idea of Voldemort tossing around Avada Kedavras actually incredibly terrifying, if you take into account what that might mean.

The collective cultural fear of speaking Voldemort’s name supports this theory.

Take the chthonic (underworld) deities of Greek mythology; most notably, Hades and Persephone, the king and queen of the underworld.

Hades, the god of the dead, was feared. 

So feared that the word ‘Hades’ (”the unseen one”) was so frightening, that people came up with all sorts of euphemisms to circumvent actually saying it and he was rarely even depicted in art. For example, they would refer to him as Pluto (”the rich one”), Clymenus ("notorious"), Polydegmon ("who receives many"), and perhaps Eubuleus ("good counsel" or "well-intentioned"), amongst many other names. 

However, he was not seen as evil; just stern, cruel, and fair. Like most Greek gods, he had an associated cult (the Death Eaters, anyone?)

Another interesting connection between Hades and Voldemort is that Hades was associated with snakes.

Persephone (suggested to have a pre-Greek origin and probably pre-dates Hades), who was also a vegetation/fertility/spring goddess, similarly, was referred to as Despoina (”the mistress”), Kore (”the maiden”), etc, because as the terrible Queen of the Dead, it was considered unsafe to speak her name aloud. In mythology and literature, she is sometimes referred to as ‘dread Persephone.’

--Just like how Lord Voldemort is referred to as The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who... (and if you’re Dumbledore, ‘Tom’.)

Her central myth served as the context for the secret rites of regeneration at Eleusis (which was basically a mystery cult devoted to her and her mother, Demeter), which promised immortality to initiates.

We don’t know for certain what exactly went on, because, mystery cult -- the members were sworn to secrecy -- but it revolved around immortality and rebirth and possibly psychoactive drugs. 

Perhaps ironically, in comparison to the Death Eaters, anyone could join, as long as they could speak Greek and had never committed murder.

And that concludes my assessment!

The Transfer part 4

Fic:

You take your notebook and start walking towards the elevator not wanting to wait anymore. The elevator dings signaling you're in the lobby, walking towards Jia you smile at her.

“I lived.” You smirk leaning into the counter.

“And I'm surprised you did.” Jia says as she hands you a cup of coffee with a biscuit. “Eat, you probably haven't.”

You smile and take the warm cup, grateful for her generosity. You would've shug it if it wasn't hot. “Thank you Jia. Did you really go all the way to buy this for little old me?” You ask her, enjoying the subtle blush and the small huff she made.

“No, I made the coffee in the break room and there were a few snacks so I brought you one. The coffee is cheap so it tastes a bit wonky but it gets the job done.”

You fake being shot on the heart. “Oh you made little old me some coffee? Spirits that really gets to me.”

She rolls her eyes, her blush still evident. “Get out of my sight Y/N, go do your job before Beifong gets here and whoops your ass.”

You laugh at this and shake your head. “Fine, fine. I'll see you later. But really, thank you.” You wink at her teasingly as you wave goodbye.

Jia sighs looking at you go, she can't help but smile. The blonde woman started to clear her desk when footsteps caught her attention.

“Good afternoon Jia, what do I have in the schedule for later today?” The Chief speaks

She stood straight in an instant, quickly browsing through the calendar planner. “You have a meeting with President Moon in about an hour and a half. After that you're clear.”

Lin hummed in acknowledgment. “Very well.” The Chief looked at the woman. “Where's Y/N?”

“She left a few minutes ago. I thought you sent her out yourself?”

Lin nodded. “She has my permission. She just didn't tell me where she'd go. I thought you would know.”

“Why would I know?” Jia asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Lin frowned. “She seems to like your presence. I thought you might know.”

“Oh. No, she didn't tell me.” The blond woman responded truthfully.

The Chief shrugged and headed back to her office. The two women going back to work. Jia couldn't shake the feeling that Lin was looking for something else, something about you.

__________

The weather was good, not too hot and not too cold. You were on your way to The Akuma’s old mansion. It was a surprise to find the whole area abandoned. The gate seemed broken and your sato passed through them with no issue.

The house was massive, yet the smallest here. It was the last one in the community, all houses were separated by long areas of land. Some had gardens and stables while others looked more like small private woods. The Akumas had a small garden in the front but everything else was unkempt and forest-like.

You had your flashlight as you pushed the big front wooden doors open. Your eyes went wide when you saw the crimson spot on the ground where the first body had been found. You crouched down to have a better look and to your horror you could see the silhouette of a woman on the stain. Like the poor woman’s face had been forever framed on their home.

You walked further in and you saw more blood, ashes and bits of broken glass. The home had been vandalized and everything of value had been taken long ago. You kept walking around each room, in the master bedroom there was a painting, a huge one on top of the bed. It portrayed the four family members together standing with gentle smiles and behind them was the mansion. It was incredibly detailed and you could see every detail almost like a defined picture. Looking closer you could see a type of shed behind the bushes of the painting. Weird, you thought. The shed looked withered and torned yet there it was, in the perfect painting like a shadow.

You walked out of the mansion looking to the backyard woods. The grass was as tall as you, yet you kept walking in. At first there was nothing but grass, and you wondered if the shed was just part of painting only but then you stumbled on a trail of white rocks. You followed them not looking up from them afraid to lose their track. This caused you to smack head first into something making you stumble to the ground grabbing your head.

“Fuck!” You cussed as you looked up to find the shed’s door. “Bingo.”

You get to your feet and look at the door for a minute. It was old and withered and had holes in the wood. It had a rusty lock in the handle, you pulled it hard and ir unsurprisingly gave in. You stood there, door unlocked. You would be lying if you said you weren't scared to see what could possibly be on the other side.

“Mama ain't raise no bitch!” You yell as you push the door open.

You scream. Like a little bitch.

And when you open your eyes (because of course you had them closed) you see nothing but pitch black. So you light up your palm and carefully walk in illuminating your surroundings. The space was small, it was a shed after all, in the center there was a table. The walls had chalkboards with some writings and blueprints. Prints of different types of boats and ships, some looked familiar and others didn't. There was a desk and a few books and tools. You take in the view, looking for something specific, opening the desk drawer you find a small notebook. Turning the book open you see daily submissions, like a diary. He describes his latest project's progress, something called The Whale-Shark. He goes into great detail about it and how the ship is working. Stage through stage he details everything, from failures to successes.

You were reading each entry when you suddenly heard a twig snap outside the shed. You automatically kill the flame in your palm and stay deadly silent. You can hear footsteps getting closer, two sets to be exact. The dread inside you starts to grow as you hear them getting closer. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You keep repeating in your head. Then, silence. You feel drops of sweat roll down your face as the footsteps start to sound distant. The more time passed the less you heard them. Until finally they were gone.

Finally you get up, light your palm once more and rapidly look around for anything besides the notebook. Opening every drawer and looking through the books quickly, you seem to find nothing. So grabbing the notebook and a few blueprints you hide them in your coat before carefully opening the shed door and poking out your head to look out for anyone that might be waiting for you.

The coast is clear so you hurry your way out, the sun is starting to set so you focus on the white rock trail while you can. You keep running straight back and you finally recognize where you are. You stop and crouch down when you see your patrol car, you wait to see if anyone comes out. One, Two… THREE!

You ran as fast as your legs could take you with the keys in hand. You backed out of that place faster than you could blink just as the sun fully sat. You speed out until you hit the main street, you calm down and keep an eye out behind you just in case. You never feel more relaxed seeing the station in your life. You turn off the engine and just sit there, contemplating your life choices.

*knock knock*

You let out a guttural scream of terror as someone knocks on your patrol window. Looking back you find Jia with an unfazed look on her face.

“The hell is wrong with you?”

You burst out in laughter opening the sato’s door. “Sorry, long day.”

The blonde woman nods. “A few officers are going to get drinks, you in?”

“Fuck yes.” You sigh in relief. “Just let me drop off a few things.”

You grab the things from your coat and walk inside the station. The elevator ride soothing your nerves as you chuckled, Jia scared the hell out of you. The door dings and you step out walking towards your cubicle, looking up you see the Chief’s light still on, again. You smile walking over and knocking on her door.

“Come in.” She says still as stiff as ever.

“Hey there chief.” You smile walking in.

She looks up from her paperwork and lowers her glasses. “Officer Y/N” Her voice is leveled and uncaring.

You walk closer to her, making her raise an eyebrow. You take a chair and pull it in front of her desk. You place the notebook and blueprints on her desk.

“Guess where I was today!” You talk excitedly.

She rolls her eyes and takes off her glasses. “Get on with it.”

If you had a tail, it would be waggin like crazy as you opened the notebook. “The Akuma’s Family Mansion.”

Her frown softened. “And?”

You point to the notebook. “There was a shed behind the main house, like a small workshop! I found this journal, it has daily entries and I thought it would be helpful for the case. I haven't read it completely yet, just a few pages about some work he was doing.”

Lin hums and takes the notebook, flipping it over a few pages. You stay seated staring at her with a dumb grin. She looks up from the book and raises an eyebrow.

“You want a cookie or something?” She growls.

“No! No! I just wanted you to know what I found!” You smile scratching the back of your neck.

“Well, now I know.” She hands you the notebook back. “Now you can leave.”

“Yes chief.” You give a bow and drag the chair back to its place as you start to head out stopping and looking back at her.

“Actually… Do you want to get a few drinks? The other officers and I were going to grab some so I thought you might like to join.”

“No. I have a lot of paperwork to finish. Thank you.” She says as she goes back to her work.

You nod and close the door, grabbing the chair again and dragging it back towards her desk. You grab a file and scan it over before grabbing a pen of her cup.

“What do you think you're doing?” She warns.

You start doing the paperwork. “You have three mountains of paperwork. I'm not just going out drinking while you exhaust yourself.”

“You don't have to. Just go, it's not the first time I've stayed here alone doing this.” She says gentler than usual.

You look up and smile at her, a soft genuine smile. “We'll as long as I'm here you won't have to do this alone. I'll help you out.”

She nods and continues working. After some time she coughs gently to get your attention, you hum in response.

“So… the house. What else did you find there?” She tries to keep you engaged in something.

You chuckle, finding it completely adorable the way she tried to make conversation. You look up to find her with a light blush on her face making you smile again.

“Oh man if I start I won't finish. It was interesting.”

You tell her and when you're done you ask about her day. She talks for a while until she finishes telling you and both of you are quiet again. There was this peaceful silence between the two of you, something that others would find uncomfortable yet you found soothing.

By the time both of you had finished it was well after midnight. You both said your goodbyes and you headed home. Tomorrow would be a long day too and you knew it.