#and i would NEVER include the words ‘in this essay i will’

[huntressofartemis001]

In the song “Too Sweet”, Irish singer Hozier claims that the subject of his passion is “too sweet for [him]”. Later in the same song, he affirms that the above person is “as sweet as a grape”, thus implying that grapes are too sweet for him. In this essay I will

[otome-dissection]

I think everyone should think about yakuza kenzan forever and ever and talk about the insane levels of kazumaji in kenzan forever and ever and rgg should announce and make a kenzan! remake please please guys talk about kenzan Plea

[santacoppelia]

Of fandom, age, and David Tennant being our own personal Time Lord

I read the fantastic post that @davidtennantgenderenvy wrote about David Tennant and aging (if you haven’t yet read it, go for it!) and, as a fan who is closer to DT's age range than to what seems to be the rest of the fan base's age (yeah, being well over 40 is A THING), I had an interesting mix of ideas and emotions. I was going to just reblog her post with some of these musings, but when this started getting longer (and I started searching for bibliography, ha), I decided that I was not going to hijack her post, but rather cite it (and reblog it on its own right, really, read it). I should say that this is a long essay, and it comes peppered with references to one of my preferred fields of study (but I make it light and fun, promise).

Becoming an “old geek”

The first time I came into the idea was when I found a thirst TikTok with that very nice audio that goes “I think I need someone older…” and clearly, the thirst was there, but also… David is 8 years older than me, and when you are 45, thirsting over someone who is 53 doesn’t feel as “edgy” (and thinking about “needing someone older” starts verging on thirsting over people well over 65, which is absolutely fine, but a very different category over all for the rest of TikTok). So yeah, it was weird. You see someone who you feel is "in your range" and everyone is calling them "old"… And you start thinking about aging, inevitably.

Of course, I "don't feel old", but most of my friends are younger than me, and I'm the oldest person in many of my "fun activities". Take, for example, my lightsaber combat team, where every sponsorship is pitched to people under 30, and you should be training at least twice a week and following a strict diet to reach the expected “competitive or exhibition” level (enter the “old lady” who is taking this training just for fun, who needs to take care of her joints and who is not going to be invested in becoming Jedi Master General or anything of the sorts in the near future). Or we can talk about the expectation about fandom in general being a “teenage phase”, and thinking about everyone who still is into it actively after certain age as “immature” or “quirky” at best (hi, mom! Hi, work colleagues! Hi, students!).

Society, aging and social constructs

Of course, this has a lot to do with societal expectations. For almost 80 years, popular culture has been built around "youth" and "young people": before rock & roll, most things (music, clothes, movies, art in general) were targeted to “adults”, and you were expected to be “a functional adult” since a younger age. There was a seismic shift in the way popular culture was built when consumer culture decided to see and cater young people: trends became shorter, being “hip” was desirable, staying younger for a longer period was a nice aspiration (a good, light reading to get a deeper view around this is “Hit Makers” by Derek Thompson. It is written for marketers, but that makes it an easy historic overview and I like that). This has a lot to do with the change of our view about old people, too: while being old 100 years ago (yup, 1924 still fits the bill) made you “a respected elder” and you were expected to be wise, to know best, to be the voice of reason and an expert, nowadays not even us older people like being seen as “old” or “older”.

Frequently, culture becomes entrenched in binary oppositions. The binary opposition between “young” and “old” is… well, old! And while the opposition is sustained, the meanings around it change over time (that’s what the past paragraph was about, really). If in the 1940’s being old meant “mature, respectable, wise, responsible” and being young meant “inexperienced, immature, foolish”, after the 1950’s those meanings shifted a lot: being young became “fun, interesting, in the now and in the know, attractive”, while being old was about being “boring, dusty, passé, uninteresting, dull”.

In reality, being young can be a mix of all of these things (inexperienced and fun and foolish and attractive), and being old can be, at the same time, being responsible and wise and a little dusty and dull, because that’s life *shrugs*, and the wonder of lived experience is that, even if we simplify it, it is complex and rich and sometimes contradictory in itself: we can be old and foolish and interesting and boring, or young and dull and inexperienced and attractive. But, as we need to make “social sense” of things, simplifying them is… easier. That’s why we build stereotypes, and why we use them! We need to have a “base” of signifiers to build upon, so we usually take what we have on our environment and run with it. If you find this idea interesting, welcome to the world of cultural semiotics! *takes her Iuri Lotman picture out of her pocket and puts it on the desk*

(Iuri Lotman, people. He is my "patron saint").

Pop culture versus “real culture”

Another cultural opposition that piques my interest in this area is the notion of “pop culture”, of course. It is opposed to “real, serious culture”, the sort of thing that everyone expects "older, mature people" to enjoy. In the sixties and seventies, there were a lot of studies and writing about "high brow" and "low brow" culture, trying to keep this distinction between "things that make you familiar with the now, but have no intrinsic value" and "eternal things that cultivate your mind, soul and spirit".

Evidently, if you ask me, this is a whole load of horse manure: probably useful to fertilize other things, but with little intrinsic value on its own. My main point is not dolphins, but the idea of culture: historically, it has used to mean a lot of things; from the notion of (exactly) fertilizing something and making it grow to make it come to fruition, to the hodgepodge of practices that a social group creates when they are together and are trying to make common sense of things.

I like the latter better (that is the one I’d ascribe to if this was The Academia TM, but this is tumblr!), but another popular definition, which comes from the Illustration and has been quite prevalent, is the notion of culture as the set of cultural practices that make you a better, more intelligent, far more educated person. For example: if you want to have real culture, you have to read Shakespeare and know what a iambic pentameter is, rather than watching “10 Things I Hate About You”. You must read real books, not listen to audiobooks, and “real books” should be written by “serious authors” like (insert old white Western European or American cis men, preferably born before 1960).

Here comes the notion of “cultural canon”, grinning widely. Yup, that set of practices becomes an expectation of what and how you should experience any area of the human experience, and they become a sort of “nucleus” of the whole experience, with people playing “defense” around them and culture shifting all around and sometimes across them. This is not exclusive to “high culture”: Have you ever heard about “gatekeeping”? Yeah, same fenomenomenon (Shadwell, of course). Whenever something gets this “shape”, it becomes a “norm”, the “common” thing, the “rule” if you participate in that set of cultural practices.

As every cultural set of practices tends to generate its own “canon”, they also have a lot of practices surrounding it, which are ever changing, shifting, learning from new and old practices, and redefining what everything means in their common/shared space. For example: Neil Gaiman, my beloved, was part of the “comics” frontier when Sandman first appeared, but as he and Alan Moore (yeah, I know he did it first, but Gaiman is my study focus right now, so let me be) and other very talented and interesting people started creating fascinating stuff that hadn’t been done, and they found people who loved it, they not only redefined the world of comics, but became part of the new canon themselves. And then, Neil’s presence in the world of literature and fantasy became widespread and recognized and then revered… And then he is doing it again by adapting his own work to a streaming platform in a serialized way… I hope this explains why I’m growing an obsession with studying Neil Gaiman as an author who crosses through different media: a transmedial auteur, an anomaly in his own right. But that is not an essay for tumblr, but a thesis, one that I don’t know if I’d ever have the time or mental resources to write (being a runaway ex academic with ADHD who works on their own is hard, people). Besides, this was about aging and David Tennant, so let’s cut this tangent short and start talking about our Time Lord and Savior: David Tennant, the king of frontiers.

David Tennant as a Frontier Lord

David Tennant is another fascinating case in this sense, mostly because he is an actor who has been able to build a whole very impressive career through crossing symbolic frontiers. Through his massive filmography (161 roles just for screens, as registered in IMDb) and his stage career (I love this gifset for this exact reason), he has acted his way through almost everything, from classical Shakespeare to improvisational comedy, from procedural police drama to wacky fantasy sci-fi. This has a lot to do with his personality (he loves acting, he decided to pursue acting as a career thanks to his love for Doctor Who, but he is also smart and inquisitive) but, as it happens with a lot of “frontier figures”, it also has a lot to do with “unpredictable” circumstances: less of a strategy, more of an instinct.

David has talked many times about how his impostor syndrome made him feel, for the longest time, that he had to keep accepting roles, because you never know if there is going to be another one after. He is talented and open and curious (this is quite a good interview about his perspective), but this… anxiety? meant that he had also lower quandaries about saying “yes” to roles and projects that were “less consistent” with a typecast (which has been, for the longest time, one of the main strategies to build an acting career). Yeah, he has some defining characteristics that make a role “tennantish” (I’m not starting that tirade here, but yeah, you know that almost fixed set of quirks and bits), but he has also worked his way through many different genres, budgets, styles and complexities. And he has usually been as committed and as professional in a big budget-high stakes-great script sort of situation, as he has been in a highly chaotic-let’s see what sticks-small scale project.

That can be correlated by the way he talks about “acting advice”. “Be on time, learn your lines, treat everyone the same, never skip the lunch queue”… Acting is a job, and he treats it as such. Yeah, he looks for interesting projects anytime he can, but the “down to earth” attitude about it is, once again, not-usual, not-common: pure frontier. Then, when David talks about his own self (specially at a young age), he is pretty clear about his “outsider” or “uncool” status (this interview is fantastic), and how strangely disruptive it was to become not only recognizable, but cool and sexy and… everything else, thanks to Doctor Who. He went from living in the frontier to being put in the canon, but he is still, at heart, a person who is more comfortable not defining himself by that “expected” set of rules.

Him being a very private person, who insists on having a family life that seems, form this distance, stable, loving and absolutely un-showbiz just makes the deal (and the parasocial love and respect) easier to sustain; as does his openness to talk about social and political issues that interest him (passionately, again; against the norm for “well liked celebrity”, again). His colleagues also talk wonders about him, mostly because he is this sort of down-to-earth but also passionate about his craft and easy to work with. Again: not the “norm”, not the “rule” of being such a celebrity.

Many of his fans (should I say that I’m one? Or is it obvious at this point?) find this not only endearing, but comforting: he is a massive star, who has acted in a lot of terrific roles in huge productions… But he feels, at heart, as “one of us”. But he is, also, a well-respected thespian, a Shakespearian powerhouse, an international talent. He lives in a very authentic, but very unstereotipical frontier. And he seems happy about that and has made a career from it. Extensive kudos and all the parasocial love and the amateur-actress mad respect for that.

I should mention, just in passing, that a “natural” archetype for this characters that traverse frontiers… are tricksters. Think again about the “tennantish” characteristics. Here goes another essay I’m not writing right now.

Aging: The Next Frontier

This takes me to the original post that inspired the essay: living in a culture where the “norm” is “being young and famous is a desirable aspiration”, we have a fantastic actor, at peak of his craft, who is in the heart of middle age (past 50, nearing 55). Not only that, but he is an actor with whom at least a couple of generations have grown older: from the ones who feel him as “our contemporary” to the ones who grew up looking at him (like Ncuti Gatwa!).

David, being the frontier person he is, has been navigating this transition in a very “unconventional” way: he came back to the role that made him iconic (The Doctor, now with more trauma!), is starring in another fantasy series about middle-aged looking ethereal beings that at times is an adventure thriller, at times is a comedy of errors and at times is a romcom (having another beautiful trickster of a man as his co-star… There goes another tangent that is an essay); he is playing one of the quintessential Shakespeare roles for middle-aged men (Macbeth), and is, seemingly, having a lot of fun doing a lot of voice acting for animation roles (if you haven’t watched Duck Tales, you’re missing a whole lot of fun, really).

Traditionally, middle aged actors navigate that period of their career trying to reinforce their “still young, thus a celebrity” status (for example, doing a lot of action-packed movies and keep doing their own stunts while seducing women 20-30 years younger than them), or strengthening their “prestige thespian, so now a real culture person” position (fighting for more serious roles, going from comedy to drama, or working their way into The Classics©). Sometimes, they face the internalized societal expectation by also becoming a shipwreck in their personal life (yeah… the stereotype of “getting divorced, having an affair with someone half their age, getting another red convertible, getting in trouble…”) because we don’t have a good “map for aging responsibly” yet as a society. We have been so focused on youth, that we have forgotten how to age.

Again, switching to the personal experience. I was raised as a female-shaped person (yeah, being queer is fun), so part of the experience of growing (and then growing old) has been closely related with that concept from the female point of view. I decided, pretty early on (but not so much, probably 25 years ago), that I wasn’t going to conform to the norm… And that included aging naturally. When I found my first white hair, it was a shock (I was 21 or 22), but I had already seen my father fighting his own hair being white since forever. I decided it was a loss of time, money and effort… And the judgement from people in my generation and in the one that preceded me (my mother, my aunts) was stern and strict: “it will age you, and it will date us. You shouldn’t do that”. Men could do it, given the right age (being over 50) but women must not. Same with wrinkles and sagging and gaining weight and getting “pudgy”. But when men grew older, they needed to make a “show off” of their ability to seduce, to “still be a man”. Aging, then, was undesirable by any standard.

As me and my peers have grown older, and my hair has gotten increasingly silver, there have been women that come to me saying that “I look great” and “they wish they were as brave as me”. I would like to state in front of this jury of my peers (hi, tumblr!) that the only bravery it took was deciding, somewhere between my twenties and my thirties, that I wanted to be as myself as I possibly could, so no bravery at all, just the same lack of understanding of social rules that took me to become interested in… you guessed it, cultural semiotics. We’ve come full circle with this. Now, let’s finish talking about what it means for an aging fan to have an aging star to look up to, shall we?

David Tennant as a cultural Time Lord

I am pretty sure that he wouldn’t have chosen this role for himself (as he wouldn’t have chosen being a massive star just by playing his favorite character and being so talented and charming), but he is, as Loki would say, burdened by glorious purpose. Being “the actor of his generation”, and him crossing so many frontiers with such ease and grace, without even thinking about it too hard, just because he is a hard worker and likes to try new things and is just so good at what he does put him in the exact cultural crossroad for it.

He is not in a sudden need to “resignify himself” as anything: he has already shown his very flexible acting muscles through his very long career. He is not bounded to “keep his public image relevant”: he likes to have his personal life clearly separated from the spotlight, and being married to the brilliant and funny Georgia, who herself grew up with a famous father, so she is no stranger to staying sane and in control in the eye of media, and who manages their social media presence with a good mix of humor and well-set boundaries.

Therefore, he is in a moment where he can (and probably will) chose to do whatever he likes. And he has the public support to do so: he is prestigious and respected, but likes to make fun of himself and is not self-important; he has a lot of awards, but he is also a very likable person with whom most people in the industry enjoy working. And he is up to do a lot of things: heroes, villains, morally grey characters; romance, drama, thriller, fantasy, sci-fi, procedurals, historical fiction, classic plays, silly parts, voice acting… We are going to see him aging on screen and stage, with no playbook: the playbooks were written for people that certainly are not him. And I have some evidence to prove it.

He is starring in a groundbreaking series (yeah, Good Omens) where the protagonists are two middle-aged looking entities, full of queer relationships, written by another trickster. This series, in an on itself, is a showcase for characters that are rule breaking in many ways: in the narrative, by being hereditary enemies who are inevitably linked to one another by a loving bond that may or may not be romantic, but that has been in the making for 6,000 years; in representation, by having the protagonists being represented by a couple of middle aged actors who are “not serious” and “not action” coded, in a role where they are delivering romance, banter, intrigue, joy and a whole other range of emotions that are “not your stereotypical” middle-aged male-lead coded.

He also delivered the baton on a relay race with Doctor Who: he came back after almost 20 years, to bring back the generation who grew up watching him in the role, and deliver us into the arms of Ncuti Gatwa’s 15th Doctor, with the promise of taking a rest and working on getting better from all the trauma The Doctor has endured in 20 years Earth-time (which, as any Doctor Who fan knows, account for centuries of trauma in Doctor’s time). Not your usual Doctor Who Anniversary cameo, but one built to deliver some zeitgeisty emotional health promises that made the specials feel… healing. At least, for some of us.

Even when it wasn’t the hit series it deserved to be, his Phileas Fogg in “Around the World in 80 Days” is also a great delivery of an unconventional middle-aged protagonist, who goes from meek and scared and too worried about societal norms, to a lovely, tender, slightly awkward and daring person, with friends half his age who look at him but are also his peers (another kind of relationship that is not very frequent in media).

And, with all fearlessness, he has played a lively old duck in Duck Tales! Scrooge McDuck has never been a middle-aged character: he is, quite openly, an old gentleman. An adventurer, quirky, with a lot of spunk… but also quite clearly an elder to Huey, Dewey and Louie, and obviously older than Donald Duck (who is also not a young adult himself!). When you watch that series, and if you have the opportunity to catch any glimpse of him behind the scenes while recording the part, you can feel the joy he got from playing the part (and he has said time and again that he IS Scrooge McDuck, so it will become his “recurring bit” for the future).

Hopefully, David (and some other actors and actresses, for sure) will dare to build that new “aging publicly without making an arse of myself” playbook, and I (and I can imagine, many other fans in our middle age, but also fans that are right now leaving behind the “young adult” stage and becoming “adults” fair and square, and others who will arrive to this place at a future time in their lives, so I hope) will be there to bear witness, support, cheer… and learn from the model. Because that’s what fandom is about, but also because that’s how culture itself gets shaped and changes, continuously. And that is exciting and a little scary, and that’s why it is better if we do this together.

And I'd love to imagine diverse (in the full sense of the word) role models for this process and this playbook, too!!!

If you read all the way through this, I'm very grateful, take a cookie, have a gold star and suggest names for our aging interestingly role models on the "non-white-male" side of things!

Class dismissed!!

[lqveharrington]

hii, i would love for you to do ‘the prophecy’ with fred weasley and ravenclaw reader!! thank you so much 💓

The Prophecy | F.W.

summary: fred’s starting to feel insecure in your relationship, and trelawney’s reading doesn’t make it any better.

pairing: fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader

includes: use of Y/N, insecure fred, a lot of overthinking, angst, fluff at the end

a/n: for some reason, this prompt stumped me so bad. so sorry if it’s not up to the usual standards 😭

One, two. One, two, three, four.

You impatiently counted how many times the alarm on Trelawney’s stupid clock would go off until she realized it wasn’t a crystal ball predicting a Hufflepuff's future. All you wanted was class to be over and be in the arms of your loving boyfriend, but they changed the house pairings for electives. Instead of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, it was Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Luckily, you still had all your core classes with Gryffindor.

As you lazily blew on the small braid you gave yourself in your boredom, a crack of lightning struck right outside, causing Trelawney to jerk in surprise with horror etched into her face. It looked like she had just seen the grim itself.

She whipped her head around and looked directly at you, taking your hands in her shaky ones. She read your palm like the lines had magically changed since last class, muttering quietly to herself until cleared your throat in confusion.

“My dear, you will receive ill-advised news by the end of the week.” She whispered and pulled your hand closer to her buggy eyes, furrowing her brows when she saw your life line. “Expect your spirit to be broken and rebuilt by the one you trust the most.”

Your lips kissed you teeth in an unsettling manner. Was this your punishment for not listening to her and sometimes making fun of her? Did she want to make you feel bad about your life choices? Sure you bored out of your mind in class but that didn't mean you wanted a horrid reading.

Your eyes flickered toward the dark sky outside again, watching as the lightening struck louder than the last. Trelawney sighed and patted your hand shut, dismissing everyone with a quiet wave. Everyone looked at her in bewilderment before slowly leaving the tower, murmuring amongst themselves.

Furrowing your brows and flexing your hand, you took your things and hastily made your way down the ladder, narrowly avoiding your face splattering on the stone floor. You always believed in everything factual — Ravenclaw, through and through — and you weren't actually sure why you chose Divination as your elective. The crystal balls and tea leaf readings never seemed credible, always predicting the same things over and over again.

However, the Weasley Twins loved Divination. They often made up their readings and passed with Outstandings. George believed he had a natural aptitude for the class whilst Fred said he had unlocked his inner eye. But what they both heavily believed in was Trelawney's words — which you thought was utter rubbish.

When you had Divination with them in sixth year, she told them that they would encounter a horrible noise, sending someone they love plummeting. That same week, Harry retreived his golden egg from the first task and revealed it to be screeching merpeople in the common room, causing the twins to drop him from their shoulders to cover their ears. From that day onward, they clung onto her every word like it was the sacred truth.

Which it wasn't.

Shaking all thoughts of Divination out of your mind, you made your down to the Great Hall. It was your potions study hall with the rest of the sixth years, and you needed time to decompress after whatever stupid prophecy Trelawney read off you.

You scanned the hall and smiled when you saw the twins, Lee, Alicia, and Angelina already working on their forty-inch essay for potions. Well, the girls were working on their essays. The twins and Lee were playing Exploding Snap — although they weren't very subtle with it.

The look on your face meant nothing but trouble. You shook your head and messed with them, putting your hands on the twins' shoulders and holding back a laugh when you saw them jump and pretend to work on their essays. Lee looked up at you and shook his head in amusement, nudging the two Weasleys to look behind them.

George was the first to turn and rolled his eyes when he saw you, scooting over so you could sit in between him and Fred. He took your bag and put it beside his on the ground, still grumbling under his breath.

"Blimey, Y/N. I thought Snape was going to take points off and give us detention again." George nudged your side with his elbow, ruffling your hair in the process.

"Again? What did you lot do in the few minutes it took for me to get here?" You tease and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own parchment out with only ten-inches left for your essay.

You quietly worked on your essay while ensuring the mischievous trio stayed on task, every so often glancing up to make sure they were doing anything stupid. As you wrapped up your essay, you looked up to your right and met Fred's eyes. You gave him a soft smile but only earned a half-hearted, tight-lipped nod back.

Parchment crinkled under your hold before you released a breath. You pursed your lips and went back to your essay, forcing back the tears of frustration from spilling out. For the past two weeks, Fred began to grow more and more distant from you. You weren't sure what exactly prompted him to do so, but he wouldn't give you an answer and the rest of your friends... Well, they didn't know if you wanted to know from them.

You felt like you were slowly sinking further away from him and you couldn't do anything. Biting your tongue to stop anymore thoughts, you turned in your essay to Snape and swiftly left the Great Hall with no spare glances toward the Gryffindors.

The states of pity from your friends only made you feel like you were crumbling into forever broken pieces.

You sat with your back against a great oak, throwing another stone into the Black Lake. The ripples echoed and repeated until they settled, the small bubbles diminished.

The rays of the sun hit your eyes, causing you to wince softly. You turned to the side and fully expected Fred to be sitting next to you, a small frown etching its way to your lips when you saw nothing but the Hogwarts castle.

Fred usually came with you whenever you needed to relax, but thinking about the past few weeks only hurt your heart.

As the whispers from the Forbidden forest grew stronger and the sun slowly descended behind the trees, you shut your eyes and leaned your head against the tree. You wished you didn’t have to leave your spot; you were only just beginning to clear your mind.

Frustratedly, you rub your closed eyes with the palms of your hands, freezing when someone spoke from behind you. That someone having an all too familiar voice.

"Love, you're going to irritate your eyes."

Your head whipped around to stare at the boy you fell deeply in love with last year at the Yule Ball. The glare you threw at him could’ve petrified him. "You have no right to call me love after ignoring me for two — almost three — weeks.”

Fred swallowed thickly and sat on a boulder beside you. He knew he was in the wrong for avoiding you for so long without telling you the truth. He believed that it was better for you not to know, but what good was it in the long run?

"I know, I'm sorry." He mumbled and bit his lip, looking down at his tattered shoes rather than meeting your eyes. "It's okay if you never want to see me ever again or choose to hate me, but I avoided you because — " He paused and squeezed his eyes shut. Godric, he was going to sound like such a stupid prick. "Because of a prophecy Trelawney gave me."

Your mouth parted ever so slightly before you threw a small rocks at his legs. Your voice rang out clear and loud, reminding him of his own mother. "Are you kidding me? Frederick Gideon Weasley! You've been avoiding me because of a stupid reading?”

"I'm sorry! But what she said about me made it seem like you needed someone better!" He let your rocks hit him and huffed, frustration bubbling within himself. He took in a breath before looking back over at you. "She told me that the something I love will succeed but only if a great weight of unstableness no longer burdened it."

You crease your brows in confusion and drop the rest of your rocks onto the ground, shaking your head as he clenched and unclenched his fist. "What are you talking about?"

"Love, you're bloody brilliant." Fred met your eyes for the first time in days. All he wanted to do was have you in his arms again and press kisses everywhere he could, but he still owed an explanation to you. "You've passed all your OWLs with flying colors and you've studied so hard for you NEWTs." He buried his face in his hands and sighed. "I'm the burden that will hold you back if you choose to stay with me."

Your initial annoyance and anger melted away at his words, eyes softening at the sight of his dejected state. "Freddie, you're not a burden to me or anyone — “

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. "I have no money. When you need support, you wouldn't get any from me. I'm not good enough for you."

Five seconds of utter silence took over. The fluttering of the owls delivering mail overhead and the sounds of the curfew bell were the only things that were heard.

Before Fred could even register what was happening, you flung yourself into his arms and rested your head on his. He froze before wrapping his arms around your midsection, burying himself into your chest. He breathed in your scent, body releasing all the tension he had stored inside.

This wasn’t the first time Fred has ever felt insecure about your relationship. There had been other times where he felt like he wasn’t good enough for you, but you were always there to reassure him whenever he voiced them to you. It was horrible to see him act like someone other than his usual self. You loved who he was and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Freddie…” You rub his back gently and feel him melt into you. “I don't need any money. Your words are enough support for me.”

He only nodded in response, missing your touch after days of avoidance. Fred felt your move around so you were sitting beside him, your hands moving to turn his head toward you.

You smiled at him and thumbed his cheeks. "And didn't I tell you not to believe everything Trelawney says? I doubt she was taking about our relationship." You pressed a light kiss to his lips before pulling him into another hug, "I love you, Freddie. Don't ever forget that."

When he didn’t say anything, you pulled away and looked over his features, brows furrowing as you saw his teary eyes.

"Fred —?”

"I love you so much, woman." He murmured before capturing your lips in a mind-searing manner, feeling you smile into the kiss. Fred pulled away for a breath before placing another tender kiss to your lips, thumbing the bottom lip when you pulled away in a daze. "You're my soulmate."

You grin shyly and lean your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. "No more overthinking, okay?" You watched as he nodded at you, his face flushing a deep shade of red when you began to pepper kisses on his neck. Each kiss meaning the same thing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Fred took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, chuckling when you got flustered over a simply gesture. "You might make me fall even deeper in love with you."

You hummed and pressed one last kiss to his lips, both of you grinning like idiots in love. "Have I changed the prophecy yet?"

"Hm, you'll have to let me check again." He said softly and gave you one final breathtaking kiss, squeezing your hip. "I think so."

"I love you, Fred Weasley." You sigh happily and kiss his cheek. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[sukimas]

(Context: The person who coined this term is a secular Jew. It is referring to said conspiracy theories obliquely, but in a mocking fashion as a shorthand for answers given by insincere/bad-faith/trolling survey participants).

[marauder-misprint]

Mystery Girl

Sirius Black x fem!Gryffindor!reader

5.7k words

cw: pining, bad flirting advice, fluff

You allow yourself to gaze in his direction for longer than usual. Your head is propped up on your hand, elbow resting on your desk, as you tap the tip of your quill to your lip in faux-thought. Professor Flitwick had announced the rest of class was to be used to work on the essay he assigned last class. Yours is about half done. You really should be thinking about what to write next, or looking up more information in your textbook. But, alas, you stare at Sirius with no real thoughts in your head. If anyone asked though, you would say it was just his general direction. 

Sirius isn’t even pretending to work. He’s having a full fledged whispered conversation with James, occasionally leaning forward to include Peter and Remus, the latter of which is attempting to finish his essay. You’re a bit surprised that Remus hasn’t finished it already, but with friends like Sirius, James and Peter, getting work done can be a challenge. 

Every once in a while, Sirius looks in your direction and flashes you his impish grin. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. You’re close friends; you’re one of the few that knows he’s an animagus. A few too many drinks one night got you that information. He recapped the whole process for you that night, which left you wondering how he managed to go through it all without mentioning it to you. The more you thought about it afterwards, the more you realized that his letters that summer were particularly odd. 

You became friends with Sirius during second year when you shared a detention with McGonagall. She had you scraping gum off the bottom of desks while Sirius was sweeping ash off the floor and then mopping and polishing. It was a long and grueling evening for two 12-year-olds. Through complaining and cracking jokes, you managed to survive and a friendship was fostered. It certainly helped that you continued to get assigned detention together over the years. 

Somewhere between here and there, you realized that you wanted more than friendship from Sirius, but with him being who he is, you had no way of knowing if your feelings were reciprocated. You buried them as deep as you could. You didn’t want any of your friends, especially the mutual ones with Sirius, to know that you had a crush on him. You’d rather live in the pain of watching him flirt with girl after girl that wasn’t you but have him as a dear friend than live in that same world except have him reject you and never speak to you again. 

His wild grin brings you out of your thoughts. He raises his eyebrows as you shiver violently. You look down at your essay, not giving Sirius any attention. You figure he’ll assume you were zoned out, which you were to a point. You don’t let your graze fall back on him for the rest of class, allowing you to miss how he looked back at you several times. 

Sirius catches up with you when Flitwick dismisses everyone. Not having worked on his essay, putting his stuff away had only taken him a moment while you carefully place your things into your bag. 

“Must’ve had some train of thought going,” he muses, leaning on your desk slightly.

 “What do you mean?” you ask, not looking up.

“Could’ve sworn you were staring right at me. I acknowledge you and nothing!”

You hum. “Then, yeah, I suppose. I was trying to make some progress.”

“And did you?” he asks as you leave the classroom and walk together to your next class.

“Not much,” you sigh. “Added a paragraph but it’s still too short. Can’t even bewitch my handwriting to be larger to make it close enough.” 

“We can work on it later. I have…” His voice trails off as he looks at the parchment hastily shoved into his Charms’ book. “Half of an introduction.”

You laugh as you gently bump into Sirius. You are mildly surprised that he even had that much done, but once he sits down and actually works on it, Sirius will finish his much faster than you ever could. At least he was offering to work on it with you. That meant you could ask him to look over yours when you finally finished. 

---

The common room empties out slowly as students head to bed. You’ve been sitting on the couch since dinner with your History of Magic textbook laying in your lap, open yet unread. Your eyes are unfocused, staring at the dancing flames in the hearth. Every once in a while you pick up sentences from your friends sitting around you. It’s nothing too exciting. The boys are discussing the intricate details for their next pranks on the Slytherins; the girls making plans for the next Hogsmeade weekend. And you were supposed to be catching up on the assigned reading.

It isn’t until Sirius falls dramatically into your lap that you tear your eyes away from the fire to see that everyone else has gone to bed. His dark hair splays across your book as he looks up at you with his stormy grey eyes.

“Did you finish the chapter?” he asks with a lazy smile. “Or were you seeking divine intervention from the fire?” 

“Divine intervention,” you reply, lifting his head ever so gently so you could remove your book, close it and set it aside. “The creation of the Being Division in the 1800s by some bloke Stumpy? End me now.” 

Sirius chuckles. 

“I’m glad Binns didn’t assign an essay on it. Imagine!” he says, making you smile. “There’s that smile. It’s not like it’ll be on an exam or anything.”

“Sirius, you know it will.” 

“And you can look at my paper. Or James’. Remus. Peter, wait… maybe not Peter. But Lily and Marlene would be okay.”

“And that’s cheating. It’s one thing on essays, but exams are another.” 

“Fine, study. Put in more effort than you need to.”

You ruffle his hair in response, earning you a noise of complaint from Sirius. You are allowed to play with his hair when it involves running your fingers through it or braiding it. Ruffling it and making it messy? Treason.

“Can I… talk to you about something?” Sirius asks as he adjusts in your lap. 

“I don’t know… Talking? Us? I don’t think we’ve ever done that before!” you tease sarcastically. 

“No, really, love. I need your opinion on something.” 

There is something more earnest in his voice that tells you it’s serious. You know he debated saying that it is but knew you would laugh and say that everything is Sirius with him. It was a dumb joke that you couldn’t get enough of. 

You nod somberly.

“Yeah, Sirius. We can talk about anything.” 

“So… there’s this girl.”

That one sentence is a punch to your gut. He wants to talk to you about a girl? While past girlfriends have come up in conversations before, it was always a fleeting topic, or they were key players in a story, like dates gone wrong. You thought it was understood that your friendship with Sirius avoided each other’s love lives - not that you ever had a boy to talk about with him.

“O-okay,” you manage to say. 

“I really like her. I just… I can’t tell if she likes me and the boys are no help.”

“So you’ve come to me because I’m oh-so-experienced in love?” 

“I came to you because you’re a girl. How do girls show that they’re interested when they aren’t obviously flirting?” 

You poke his cheek as you say, “Used to the obvious flirting, aren’t you?” 

He grins up at you. “Obviously.”

“Well, from what I know, they lean in when you talk, laughing at any and every stupid joke you make. When they touch you, they let their hand linger, especially if it’s on your hand or arm.” You demonstrate your point by touching his bicep and giving it a gentle squeeze. “A little more brazen, they’ll compliment you subtly. You should be able to see it in their smile. Maybe they’ll flutter their eyelashes at you if they are bold. Or desperate. They’ll also jump to your side if you’re alone.” You sigh. “Again, you know I’m too experienced with this flirting thing so…”

“Yeah, but you must’ve flirted with guys before. You’re no hermit.”

You exhale out of your nose. “I don’t flirt much.”

“Much! So you do! Your expertise shan’t be taken for granted!” 

Your expertise. Sirius really has you on a pedestal. You sit with him for a while longer, running your fingers through his hair to make up for your earlier ruffling. He closes his eyes as he enjoys the feeling. 

Over the next few days, you make a point to not do any of the things you listed off as flirting. You only lean forward when he talks at meals so you can have the excuse of needing to be able to hear him better. You rarely find yourself in a position to have your hand on his so that wasn’t an issue. You aren’t one to bat your eyelashes or stroke his ego. Your two vices are laughing and being at his side, but he’s your best friend. Could you really be expected to not spend time with him and enjoy yourself when you are with him? You think you’ve played it off fairly well.

Sirius thinks you’ve given him faulty advice. He is hyper aware of every interaction he has with this girl. He’s overanalyzing every move she moves around him, and every move he makes. What’s even more frustrating to him is that some of the things you listed off, he can’t imagine her doing. It’s just not who she is. 

He decides to bring it up again to you in the Transfiguration Courtyard after classes. James and Marlene are tossing a quaffle back and forth while Lily, Mary, Remus and Peter work on various assignments. You and Sirius are sharing a pack of cigarettes off to the side at Mary’s request. She claims she can’t focus when there’s a cloud of smoke around her head. There’s enough space between you and the rest of the group which gives Sirius the privacy he requires for this topic.

“You know that girl I was telling you about?” he asks you.

“The one you’re so in love with?” 

“Yeah, that’d be the one.”

“Then, yes, I know of her. You never told me who it is though.” 

“That’s not important right now,” he says, running a hand through his hair before immediately shaking it out. “She’s not doing any of those non-obvious flirting things you said.”

“She’s not?” you echo with your eyebrows raised. What girl could resist the temptations of Sirius? 

“She’s not. But now I’m wondering if I’m the problem?” 

You laugh loudly. Sirius’ firm gaze and stoney expression tell you he’s not messing around like you assumed he would be. 

“Tell me how you, you, could be the problem?”

“Like I told you before, I really like this girl. I do. She’s amazing, a real sweetheart, and I don’t want to mess it up before it’s gone anywhere. So I haven’t flirted with her the same way I’ve flirted with other girls.”

“Damn, Black. You must really like this girl.”

“I do. So much.” He takes a breath and leans in a hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong though. I know she wouldn’t like my usual flirting. She doesn’t respond to the new method. How do I get this girl’s attention?” 

You sigh and shake your head.

“It’d be easier to help you if I knew who it was,” you tell him. 

“Yeah, I know that, but I… I can’t tell you.”

“Sirius-” you chastise. 

“Love, I can’t tell you.”

“Have you asked the boys how to flirt with this mystery girl?”

“Sirius Black, master flirt, is not going to those virgins for help.”

You bite inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all: Sirius calling himself a master flirt, knowing damn well that James and Remus weren’t virgins, and that Sirius was willing to come to you, an actual virgin, for help. 

“So what do I do?” 

You can’t hold back your laughter any more. It breaks through. You expect Sirius to look upset at your laughing but instead he’s smiling at you. 

“I’m not trying to be mean, Sirius, but you do know who you’re talking to, right? A girl who’s never been flirted with? And you’re turning down asking Potter, king of pining, for advice? Like I’m one hundred percent sure that Lily knows he likes her.” 

You glance toward James and then Lily. You missed the flash of disappointment that crosses Sirius’ face when you say you’ve never been flirted with. He knows for a fact it isn’t true, but it wouldn’t help his cause now to tell you otherwise.

“I’m talking to my best friend who I think is more perceptive than she realizes,” he states. “Humor me: how would you like to be flirted with?”

How would you like to be flirted with? The question repeats in your mind as you think. Sirius can practically see the gears turning in your head. He waits patiently for your answer. It has the potential to change everything for him.

“I… I want genuine compliments. I want to be told that I’m pretty but also that I’m enough and to hear what they like about me, you know, beyond looks. I want them to choose to spend time with me. I want them to do all that chivalrous, gentleman-y things like carrying my books and holding doors,” you list off. As you continue your ramble, your face grows hot. “I sound like a spoiled child,” you laugh. “I want, I want, I want.” 

Sirius smiles at you with an adoring look in his eyes. 

“Maybe so, but I did ask you what you wanted.” He tucks a bit of hair behind your ear. “So no big, grand gestures for you? I’ll make sure to tell all your suitors.”

You roll your eyes as you’re fairly certain there are no potential suitors for him to tell. 

“I don’t know how you’ve been flirting with this mystery girl if it hasn’t been your usual tactics, but the little things really do add up.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I went from one extreme to the other?”

“Why, yes, yes I would,” you smirk. 

“Oi! Looks like rain, we’re going in!” Lily yells in your direction. 

Sirius stands up first and holds out his hand to help you up. 

Throughout the rest of the week, it’s like a switch flipped in Sirius. He’s more attached to you than normal. He’s always there to hold open a door for you, to offer to carry your books or put your supplies away. He starts using pet names with you more. You find it all a bit peculiar. He was spending so much energy on you rather than trying to win over his mystery girl. You try not to think too hard on it. 

When the weekend came, your whole friend group made their way to the quidditch pitch. It was nice when Gryffindor wasn’t playing so James and Marlene could jeer at the players, complain about calls and plays and explain moves to everyone. They bring a higher energy to the stands. But you couldn’t focus on their comments too much. Sirius is pressed into your side with how packed the Gryffindor section is. To make it more comfortable, he draped his arm loosely over your shoulder. His cologne overtakes the rest of the smells that accompany the stands. You’re not complaining about that, but it did make it hard to think about anything else. Again, you try not think too hard about Sirius’ mystery girl, or the fact that your body is much closer to Sirius’ than Lily’s, who was on your other side. 

After Ravenclaw beats Hufflepuff, you claim a table for yourself in the common room. You have an essay for Transfiguration to finish. Lily and Marlene had fretted earlier about your insistence on getting it done today when you had all of tomorrow to work on it and there was a party tonight. They certainly didn’t like you pointing out that it was Ravenclaw’s party so your presence wouldn’t be missed and you had more homework to do tomorrow. Merlin forbid school didn’t come easy to you. 

When they accepted that you were a lost cause for the night, they grabbed Mary and left. You are able to work in peace for a little over half an hour. Then the Marauders traipsed down the stairs. Their sheer presence sends energy pulsing through the room. You briefly look up as they pass your table. Sirius spins around after passing you and walks up to you, slamming his hands on the table.

“Why aren’t you at the party?” he demands. “Pretty girls belong at parties.” 

You feel your cheeks warm. You drag the feather end of your quill over the pages of the open book and essay in front of you.

“These essays. They never seem to write themselves.”

“So you’re just not going to the party?” 

“Padfoot! Come on,” James calls.

“Love?” Sirius asks, ignoring his friends. 

You sigh and look up at him. He’s looking at you so ardently. 

“Not until I finish this essay. So I’ll either be extremely late or I won’t go,” you answer him. 

He pulls out the chair across from you.

“Head over without me! We’ll catch up later,” he yells over his shoulder as he sits down.

Then he grabs your essay, scanning it to see how far along you are.

“Sirius, go to the party,” you tell him, reaching for your essay but he holds it out of your reach. “Your mystery girl is probably there. You could be making your move. My essay will get done.”

“Mystery girl will be there whenever I get there. However, your essay is more important than any party, and I don’t want to go if you’re not there.” He flashes you his wide grin. “How can you expect me to have fun when I know you’re back here, suffering?”

You sigh and lean back in your chair. With you no longer reaching for your essay, Sirius is able to finish reading it over. He hands it back to you and grabs your book. He flips a few pages before placing it back in front of you and pointing to a second you hadn’t looked at yet.

“You’re closer to finishing that essay than you think, love. You really just need a summary of that section and a conclusion. Then it’s upstairs to change and party time!” 

“Thanks, Sirius.” 

You lean over the desk to read the section he pointed out. After a few minutes, you glance up at him. He’s been watching you read and make notes. 

“You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll find you at the party when I’m done,” you say, although you have half a mind to crawl into bed when you’re done. Especially if Sirius’ mystery girl is at this party, you’re not sure if you have it in you to watch him flirt with her, a girl he seems to be in love with. 

“Please, don’t act like I don’t know you. If I leave now without you, you won’t go. You’ll finish the essay and then you’ll hide here. Nope. You’re going to have fun tonight if I have anything to do with it.”

“Fine…” you mumble, turning back to the book to reread the last paragraph. 

Another half an hour or so passes until you’re semi-satisfied with your essay. You set your quill down as you reread the entire thing, a frown appearing on your face. It’s not nearly as good as you want it to be. You should probably rewrite it.

“Ah, give it here,” Sirius says, holding his hand out expectantly. 

“It’s no good,” you reply, shaking your head. “I need to rewrite it.”

“Let me read it. I’m sure it’s fine.” He tilts his head while giving you a firm look. “Go change. I’ll read it while you’re gone. If it’s as bad as you think it is, we’ll work on it more. If you’re being hard on yourself, we’ll get you a drink to help you unwind.”

You sigh dramatically. You leave the essay on the desk for Sirius to grab, instead of handing to him. You trudge up the stairs to your dorm to change into something more party-like. Your indecisiveness means that you try on several outfits before finding something that you don’t hate. You don’t want to look like too much, too good. If you’re going to try to help Sirius get this mystery girl, you couldn’t be outshining her. 

When you return to the common room, Sirius has cleaned up all of your things into neat piles. 

“Oh, you look lovely!” he declares when he notices that you’re back. “And your essay, easily an E. Trust me. We ensure that Pete gets at least an A on every essay and that was better than what he’s turning in.” 

You roll your eyes at the ‘we’. You knew the Marauders often treated homework as group assignments. He holds out his arm for you to take, which you do with some hesitation. 

“Shall we go find your girl at this party?” you ask.

“We shall,” he says with a smile as he leads you out of the Gryffindor Common Room and toward Ravenclaw Tower. 

Once past the eagle knocker, Sirius is quick to get a drink in both his and your hands. You scan the room, seeing the rest of the Marauders and your other friends. You aren’t looking for them though. You’re trying to see if you can spot the girl who is so beautiful and desirable that Sirius would switch up his methods to diminish the risk of losing her. 

“Let’s find your girl,” you say, leaning into Sirius’ shoulder. 

He doesn’t say anything, but he guides you around the room. You pause to say hi to some of your friends in Ravenclaw. You expect Sirius to keep walking in search of the girl. He doesn’t. He remains at your shoulder, giving friendly smiles to the people you’re talking to. You lead him toward where the other Gryffindors are gathered. 

“Black!” Marlene yells as she grabs him by his shoulders. “Thank you for getting her out!” 

You’re taken aback by her comment, although it wasn’t uncommon for you to miss a party. You often found yourself reminding your friends that Hogwarts was in fact a school and not a party central. 

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” he tells Marlene, grinning. 

He puts an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You feel your face burn so you try to hide it with your cup. Maybe you can pass it off as the room being too hot or being flushed from the alcohol. Only Sirius knows it’s your first drink, right? 

You try to focus on what your friends are saying and laughing about, but the feeling of Sirius’ arm, his hand and his body are too much. Your body feels like it’s being constantly electrocuted. You take slow sips from your cup, as if the drink will somehow alleviate the feeling. You can only imagine how this looks to his mystery girl. You pressed into Sirius’ side with his arm around you as he talks and laughs? You’re trying not to melt into his touch. You try to keep the idea of this other girl in your mind. But you like having his arm around you a bit too much. 

“Shit, this is a good song!” Sirius roars before lowering his voice to whisper in your ear, “Dance with me, lovely?” 

You look up with him with concerned eyes. “How will that look to that girl you really like?”

You hate that you have to keep reminding him that he was supposed to be looking for this girl and flirting with her, rather than spending all of his time with you. He just gives you his trademark smile.

“It will show off my amazing dancing skills. Come on, you didn’t say no!”

He pulls you away from your friends into the crowds of people dancing. Sirius is far more at his leisure than you are. You would much rather be on a bench off to the side, sipping on a new drink as the music fills your senses. At least, you think that until Sirius has his hands on your hips, helping you move to the music.

“Ah, there it is! She does have rhythm!” he cheers with his face close to yours. It’s close enough to feel the heat of his breath and to smell the spiked punch. 

Everything about the moment makes your heart pound in your chest. For a second, the idea of his mystery girl flits into your mind, but she is banished as Sirius spins you around. Your laughter mixes with his and the sounds of people around you, laughing themselves and singing along to the music. You never fancied yourself a dancer before now, but with Sirius so close and all of his attention on you, it feels right. You wouldn’t mind if you could live in this moment forever. 

When the music switches to something slower, you prepare yourself to see Sirius move back toward your friends. You don’t expect him to place his hands on your waist and pull you even closer. 

You don’t expect him to lean in and whisper, “Put your hands around my neck, sweetheart. That’s how you slow dance.”

You do as told. It makes it easier to hide your bright red face in his shoulder. You know how to slow dance; you just never did it with anyone before. You certainly hadn’t expected your first slow dance to be with Sirius. It made sense to a point though that it would be with your best guy friend, someone you were comfortable with. 

The song ends too soon for you. The next song is back to the upbeat rhythm that previously filled the room. Your heart beat is too loud in your ears to process it.

“I need another drink,” you tell Sirius before walking away from him.

You did need a drink, but you also need a moment away from him. ‘He’s in love with someone else’ is on repeat in your head. You can’t have yourself falling deeper in love with him when you know his heart belongs to someone else, someone he wouldn’t even tell you the name of. 

When you have a fresh glass in your hand, you turn to look for Sirius in the crowd where you left him. He’s not there. You spot him back with the Marauders. It makes you frown. He was supposed to be finding this girl and asking her to dance, not spending the whole night with you and the boys. You want to remind him of that, but something prevents you from doing it. You walk over to the girls, hoping that maybe they’re talking about something interesting.

“Isn’t this so much better than essays?” Lily asks, leaning almost all of her body weight on your shoulder as soon as you join them.

“I mean, I guess so,” you answer.

“Oh, please,” Mary laughs. “It looked like you were enjoying yourself with Sirius out there.” 

Your blush immediately returns.

“So is it a thing? You ‘n’ him?” she asks. 

Marlene turns her full attention to you at the question and Lily throws her arms around you in a hug. 

“It really should be!” Lily gushes, her voice far too loud in your ear. “You’d be so cute together! It’s obvious he adores you!” 

You smile as you shrug Lily off.

“Sorry to disappoint, but he’s infatuated with someone else,” you say, mockingly saying infatuated to make yourself feel better. You try to hold in a sigh. 

“Who?” Marlene demands. “We’ll take care of her!” 

“Dunno. He won’t tell me.”

Marlene and Lily don matching frowns and furrowed brows. 

“Darling! There you are!” Sirius’ voice booms.

The three girls glare at him.

“What’d I do?” he asks, his arm finding its place around your shoulders. 

“I’ll tell you what you did, Black,” Marlene starts.

“Nothing! You did nothing,” you say quickly, cutting Marlene off before she can say too much.

While you’ve never said anything directly about liking Sirius to them, you’re sure it’s obvious to them now and you’ll hear more about it tomorrow. 

“Well, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asks cautiously, eyeing the girls who are still glaring daggers at him. 

“No, you’re not,” you say firmly, also eyeing the girls. 

You really hope they don’t say anything right now that would embarrass you and possibly hurt the friendship you have so carefully preserved. 

“Then I’m sure they won’t mind if I steal you away again!” he says cheerfully and steers you away from them.

He takes you to a quieter area down a few flights of stairs and stopping on a landing. Based on the doors you’ve passed, you figure you’re by the dorms. You’re glad that he took you down rather than up because the air is significantly cooler. 

“Did you find your mystery girl?” you ask as he leans against the wall, sipping his own drink that he must’ve refilled at some point.

He nods. 

You cock your head to the side. “Then why haven’t you stolen her away to this little spot?” 

He chuckles. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

“You’ve already ditched her?” you ask accusingly. 

“No!” He stands up straighter and moves closer to you. “No, I’m with her right now.”

“But it’s just us here?” 

He takes another step toward you and tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“Oh, darling, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you are so clearly not a Ravenclaw.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” you spit. “Are you calling me stupid?” 

He throws his head back, laughing.

“Yes! Yes, I am.”

You scoff and take a step back from Sirius. 

“Well then.” You turn to go up the stairs because why did Sirius steal you away to insult you?

“No, listen!” He reaches out to stop you from heading back to the party. “You’re not stupid. Blind? Maybe. A bit dense right now? Yeah.”

“You’re not helping yourself,” you say dryly. 

“It’s you. You’re the… mystery girl, as you’ve been calling her. It’s been you the whole time.”

You freeze for a moment. 

“What?” you breathe. That can’t be right. 

“When I asked you about how girls flirt? I was asking how to know if you were ever flirting with me. But then you never did any of those things. Maybe one or two once or twice. So I asked how I could flirt with you. I know you enough to know that you wouldn’t want me to use those cheesy or dirty lines on you. You wouldn’t want an overtly public declaration of love to ask you to Hogsmeade. But even with your advice, you don’t seem to respond to me.”

He stops talking for what feels like an eternity. He’s scanning your face for a reaction, for any kind of sign from you, but all he gets is utter shock and confusion. 

“What?” you repeat in the same quiet voice of disbelief. 

He takes a step toward you so that his body is almost touching yours.

“The girl I really like and don’t want to mess things up with? She’s you. She’s been you for a while now. And I’m asking you how you feel about me because you can be so hard to read sometimes.” 

His voice is so soft and honest. You blink slowly as you gaze into those grey eyes you love so much. 

“She’s me?” you echo his sentiment. 

“Yes. Please, love, I need to know. Do you like me or have I just made a rather large fool of myself?”

“That’s why you didn’t want to come unless I did,” you whisper more to yourself than to Sirius, ignoring his question and the way his eyes filled with uncertainty as you did so. “That’s why you’ve been complimenting me more and offering to carry my bag. Oh…”

“Love?” he asks with a wavering voice. 

You’ve never heard him so nervous before. His hand slowly reaches up to cup your face. 

“Please…” he whispers.

“This is all… real?” you ask, placing your hand on top of his. 

“Yes. It’s so real.”

You smile. It’s wide and filled with the most joy you’ve ever felt. But then it disappears as you glare at Sirius.

“Don’t you ever call me stupid again,” you say firmly.

“I won’t.” There’s a beat of silence. “Wait, so do you-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. It was a moment of Gryffindor braveness that you usually didn’t showcase. It took Sirius by surprise. He takes a moment to process that you, the girl he’s been pining over for a while, is kissing him and that he should kiss you back. But he does and it’s everything you’ve dreamed it would be. All of those times you’ve thought about his mystery girl, you never really considered that she could be you. As much as you dreamed it, you never really believed you could be the girl he described as the sweetest, the most beautiful, the kindest and most wonderful, perfection. But you were and you felt it as Sirius wraps his arms around you to hold you close, even after you broke away from the kiss. 

“Oh, the girls were glaring at you earlier because I told them you liked someone else after they asked if we were dating.” 

“Hmm, too bad that someone else is you,” he mumbles against your shoulder, still not letting you go. “We can correct your misinformation later. You’re mine now.”

[literaticat]

If an author writes a book not knowing the genre, will the book fit into a genre when it’s finished—or is it possible for a book to be completely genre-less?

I'm about to GO OFF, so if you just want the short answer:

I presume that if an author is writing a novel and they don't have a specific genre in mind when they are doing it, they are just writing fiction. You can get more specific after you finish the book and figure out where it belongs in the bookstore and how to describe it.

It's not really possible for a book to be "completely genre-less" because that implies that it CAN'T be categorized in a bookstore -- I bet your book can be. (I should hope so, anyway, otherwise how will it sell???) -- but also, uh -- it doesn't really matter? Everyone gets really hung up on these hyper-specific genre labels, but you don't really need to get THAT specific. If your book is just "general interest fiction" that's OK -- so call it a novel and describe what the tone is. (Funny? Realistic? Literary? Fast paced? Tearjerking? There has to be some way to describe it, no? )

Even if your book is just weird as hell rambling about things I would never read about in a hundred years -- guess what, that's a genre, Experimental Fiction. ;-)

--

Long Answer: Fun fact about the word "genre" -- it comes from the same root as genus, like what you probably heard back in school when learning about the taxonomy of animals and whatnot.

Because I am extra, I decided to do a little taxonomy of books. It's still a work in progress, I might decide to change it a bit, but this is the basic chart.

I'll assume that pretty much any book we're talking about here has the same domain, kingdom, phylum and class, and PROBABLY the same order, too, since most of you are likely writing Fiction.

Within the order FICTION, there are "families", which I here call Categories -- novels, graphic novels, plays, essay collections, short story anthologies, young adult novels, young adult anthologies, middle grade novels, middle grade graphic novels, chapter books, picture books, ETC. Categories in the order NONFICTION include Biography/Memoir, Cookbook, Reference, Religion, History, Science, etc.

Within each Category, there are different Genres -- that is, the type of [novel, or whatever] it is. Genres of novel include mystery, science fiction, horror, realistic, historical, romance, western, etc.

And within each Genre, you can get even more specific with species, which I am calling subgenre/tone. That's the type of the type, in other words. There are well-established subgenres (like Horror could be slasher, or gothic, or psychological. Romance could be historical, or realistic/contemporary, or whatever) -- but it's also acceptable to get more specific with tone or style -- "Comedic", "literary", "commercial" "upmarket" etc. (You can also have books that have both subgenre AND tone -- that's like species and sub-species)

Examples:

DRACULA: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Classic Novel > GENRE: Horror > SUBGENRE/TONE: Gothic

DON'T LET THE PIGEON DRIVE THE BUS: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Picture Book > GENRE: Meta-fiction > SUBGENRE/TONE: Comedic

LINCOLN IN THE BARDO: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Novel > GENRE: Magical Realism > SUBGENRE: Experimental > TONE: Literary

JAMES: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Novel > GENRE: Historical Fiction > SUBGRENRE: Retelling > TONE: Literary

You get it?

OK SO, in the bookstore, the books are first divided by CATEGORY. All the Cookbooks are together, because that's the Category, but if there are a lot of them, they will be broken up into categories-within-the-category ("genre" if you will). Perhaps they would be grouped by region or style (Mexican cuisine, Middle Eastern cuisine, European cuisine; Health Food; Baking; etc). Mastering the Art of French Cooking would be in Cookbooks, of course -- but in a larger bookstore with many cookbooks, it would likely be found in its region, either French or European Cuisine -- and in a store with a HUGE French cooking section, those books might even be further divided into "French > classic techniques" "French > desserts" "French > postmodern cuisine", etc. So:

MASTERING THE ART OF FRENCH COOKING: Order: Nonfiction > Category: Cookbook > Genre: French > Subgenre: Classic Technique

And so it goes with Fiction as well; the sections are divided by Category. So all the Middle Grade Novels are probably together. All the Picture Books are probably together. Etc. But for very large categories (like Fiction > Novel), there are enough books that it becomes easier to browse if they give the biggest genres their own shelving. Hence there are probably sections for Mystery, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Romance, etc.

MIND YOU: There are PLENTY of books that fall under "Fiction" and DON'T get separated out into one of those other genres. They are just categorized as fiction. The fiction section is probably the largest section in most bookstores -- it's not weird to write a book that gets filed in the "fiction" section! Those books still have a genre. That genre just might be "realistic" or "historical" or "western" or magical realism" or "postmodern/experimental" or something that doesn't neatly fall into the Mystery or Science Fiction (or whatever) genre categories.

For example: At my bookstore, we ONLY separate out Mystery, Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror, Romance, Classics. So within the regular Fiction section you'll find a huge variety of books -- they all DO have a "genre" -- it just isn't one of those genres that gets shelved separately!

So, no, I don't believe there are books that just *don't have* a category or genre. ALL books have them. We might disagree a little about what they should be -- we might use slightly different words -- new species might pop up here and there -- we might be able to categorize some of them into even more minute niches -- but all books CAN be categorized in some fashion.

[chiscaralight]

BOOTY POPPIN' !

men who just love their darlings' ass!

includes: nsfw! aventurine, childe, scara x afab!reader (separately), lots of backshots ! mirror sex, cum eating, dry humping, fingering, eating it from the back, i used the word ass a lot LMFAOO, outdoor sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, slight mentions of exhibitionism, thigh riding, its all consensual, probably missed a couple of tags

new format! ill drop the second part of this for the boob lovers lmfao hope u enjoy! blade was also a last minute addition to this but I enjoyed writing for him. i was going to post this tomorrow bur I'm too excited to wait !!!!!

CHILDE.

childe loves your ass! you know it, he knows it, and everyone around you knows it. he doesn’t even try to hide it. why would he? your ass is perfect, he would probably write an essay on it if you ask! if you’re at home and you walk past him wearing something short be prepared, because there’s no way in hell he’s letting you get past him without some form of contact.

it’s the same when he’s fucking you! he’s sitting with his legs spread and you on top of him so he can set himself right in front of his full-length mirror. his eyes are switching between your adorable face and the view of your behind in the mirror! he’s kneading and slapping the flesh of your ass as he fucks himself up into you! his bony fingers are tracing the marks he’s leaving all over you while you’re a crying mess, but he’s nowhere near done with you. he’s pulling you off him and flipping you over so he can fuck you right from the back! his hands have found a home on the fat of your hips as he takes in the view. the dip of your waist into the curve of your hips and his eyes lock onto that fucking ass. he groans at the sight, dick twitching as he’s pistoning in and out of you. he’ll never get tired of it.

you’re even starting to think he’s doing things just to get you to bend over. Things that should be nowhere near his room disappeared under the bed, and the remote he was holding mere seconds ago accidentally slid so deep under the couch. he’s politely asking you to bend down and get it. when you do go in for it though, he’s already touching you! but you’re not even on the ground yet! you sigh, because you know swatting him away won’t do much but hold him off for half a second.

even when there’s nothing inherently sexual about what you’re doing! you’re just resting on the kitchen counter and he’s behind you, pressing his hard cock into you. you both end up coming untouched through the messy kisses and the clothes grinding, but you don’t even have it in you to complain.

AVENTURINE.

i’ve actually already written an ass-obsessed aven here, but i can’t get it out of my head!!! he’s definitely more subtle about it, but he’s still obsessed all the same. in public, it’s all fleeting touches. maybe he’s resting his hand there or slipping his long fingers into your back pocket. you help in protest as he silently curls his fingers into the flesh, but he only cocks his head to the side, mocking concern as he asks you what’s wrong. you can only roll your eyes in response.

Your eyes are rolling back behind closed doors though, as you’re laying flat with him beside you, staring at your bruised butt. those taunting fingers, after slapping your ass so much, are bullying your cunt as they’re pumping in and out of you. you want to tell him it’s too much, but you already agreed to give him one more orgasm and you do not want to disappoint:( But it’s a particular curl of his digits that has you arching off the bed and staining your thighs, his fingers and shockingly his face! you’re so embarrassed you could cry, but he only wipes his face with his fingers and licks it off. you’re trying to sit up, but he’s pushing you back down as he mounts you.

he knows how much you love him prone boning you, so as a reward for doing extra good earlier, he does! you’re practically weeping into the sheets as his hips meet yours over and over. he wastes no time in turning you on your side so he can see that face of yours. you’re all red and teary eyes as he doesn’t stop fucking you. his hand is rubbing the flesh of your sore behind and you can barely move! your little body is so spent, but he promises to take care of you with a kiss to your temple. but not without slapping your ass one more time.

he’s pulling out of you to drag your hips up. it’s his tongue that gets you reeling, darting between your puffy clit and dripping hole. he’s pushing you back onto his face over and over you’re releasing much more directly on his face this time! he apologizes, saying how much he couldn’t help himself because the thought of it stuck so much since you squirted all over him before ! Sure, I'll help you with that. The corrected text is: "apologizes"

SCARA.

when it comes to scara, he acts as if he doesn’t care. a body is a body. he’s going to tell you that the “ass or tits” argument is dumb, but his actions tell you otherwise.

he’s always finding some reason to press up against you! he’ll claim he just wants to get something from the shelf above you, but he’s dragging his clothes cock all over your ass!

even when he’s sat in his gaming chair, he has you facing him and immediately he hits an intermission in whatever game his playing, his hands are finding their way right down to the curve of your butt. but he’ll swear he doesn’t have a preference.

“your ass just happened to be in my hands' way,” as he shrugs it off. but you can see past his silly lie.

you didn’t think he’d be proving you right out in the open like this though. his car is parked at the end of some abandoned alleyway while he has you bent over the trunk! the cool metal is no match for the heat the two of you are emitting as he ruts into your walls.

he’s fisting your hair, spitting something about how good you looked. it wasn’t his fault! you’re the one wearing such a tiny skirt, how could he not get a piece of that? the nasty fucker only releases the hard grip he has on your hair so he can take another quick whiff from your panties. your strong scent has him powering up again, so he’s crossing his arm over your ass to grab your hips and fuck into you harder. the sound of your skin slapping is reverberating off the walls, and hard. you’re only getting louder, and he takes the opportunity to dip down into your ear again, warning you that you’ll get found out and show whichever passerby how nasty you are, taking him in so deep like this while anyone can catch you as quickly as it started.

the thought sends waves right down between your legs as his hands come in contact with your ass once again. he’s fucking you onto him as he cums, rolling his hips against the plush of your behind. and per his words, you have to keep it in the whole car ride home if you want him to fuck you again later.

BLADE.

even though blade doesn't talk much, he's very calculated with his actions. he makes sure he's thinking through everything to ensure he doesn't hurt you. it's also why you raise an eyebrow when you feel his fingertips very softly brush against your butt. and it keeps happening. you feel like you're going insane! the feather-light touches are running through your mind but the way he carries himself immediately after, it's like nothing ever happened.

so you start to retaliate. your bottoms are getting shorter and tighter day by day. it's gotten to the point where you're barely wearing any pants around him at all! you're constantly dropping things and bending over to pick him up, seating your half-naked behind just millimeters away from his fingers resting on the couch and asking him what's wrong whenever you notice him freeze up. more importantly, those small touches have stopped. you hmph in a small victory, not sure what you achieved but you feel satisfied nonetheless.

the hmphs and ahs that are spewing from you later in the night are nothing compared to the one of false victory. your shoulders are hunched as your back faced him. Do you think your actions wouldn't get noticed? think again. you're grinding your clothed cunt painfully slow against his clothed thigh. his hand connects with the soft skin as he tells you to speed up. two can play the teasing game but only one can win. your cries and pleas only fuel him further as you blurt out every apology your spiraling mind will let you. your legs are aching and your orgasm is moving in and out as you begin to tire out.. but your bladie isn't that mean, so he's repositioning the two of you to fix both of your problems.

his left leg is propped up on the couch, the other leg hanging off as his back rests against the arm of the chair. your body is flat against the cushions as he thrusts up into you (see sledge for reference). your cunt is sure, but he knows just the right angles to hit to make you forget that. but while you're lost in your world of pleasure, he's lost somewhere else. he literally cannot take his eyes off your ass. he's mesmerized, as each thrust keeps bouncing it around. his hands are gripping the top, pushing you down on him as you both cum against each other. even when he's pulling out and picking you up to clean up, he just can't get it out of his head !!! it's going to bother him for the next couple of weeks, maybe even months! but best believe he will be coming right back to enjoy the view.

[crescenthistory]

hii 🫶🏻🫶🏻!

im not sure if you've written for james potter before, but if you're up for it, could i request d5 with him? i thought like, reader is a slytherin and she fooled around with barty while she was with james. also not sure if you're okay with writing cheating, (feel free to ignore this is you're not!)

hi lovie! thank you for your request<3 i don't vibe with cheating storylines, but this inspired me to write a one-shot of james pining for reader but thinking she's with barty because they're such close friends. i hope that still scratches your itch!

Prompt: D.5 "But do you love me?" changed into "But you are in love with me?"

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, slytherin!reader (sassy/feisty), use of y/n, james pov which includes relentless pining and silly comments, genuine yearning, miscommunication, bsf!barty, slight jealousy/envy, some self-deprecation, background skittles rosekiller and dorlene

The Boy with the Glasses is Blind

James could have kicked himself.

Despite what some professors insinuate, he is usually quite bright – he just so happens to prefer dedicating his intellect to good-willed humour and pranksting rather than gruelling essays that have already been written a thousand times before. He felt he had properly demonstrated his abilities for creativity and strategy with everything he had pulled off over the years, both the pranks he took credit for and the ones they were never able to pin on him.

Yet, here he was.

Sitting in the Transfiguration class shared by most Gryffindors and Slytherins in their year, where Professor McGonnagal in some horrific – in James' previous sentiments – attempt to bridge some gaps and mend some fences, seated a Slytherin and a Gryffindor together at every table. Sitting beside you, the one Slytherin he had never seemed to fully dislike nor target with his more insidious of pranks, but a Slytherin nonetheless, and attached at the hip with one Barty Crouch Junior.

Yes, here he was, sitting beside you and staring at you with what most look like cartoonish heart eyes.

It was not something he necessarily expected to happen, at least not to this extent. You had always held his interest, a fascinating person from who you were to how you spoke and where you placed yourself in society, but it was easily brushed off in the flurry of everything else that surrounded the young boy. In here, he couldn't escape you as easily, and once he realised just what he had been depriving himself of in his avoidance of you, he couldn't escape you even when you weren't around. To him, you were everywhere.

James Fleamont Potter was falling more head over heels in love with a Slytherin with every passing minute. Sirius would have kicked him blue and yellow had he dared open his mouth and voice what was running through his mind when he admired you. Though, James supposed, some of those thoughts were perhaps best never uttered out loud to anyone.

He really couldn't help himself, he thought, it was all your fault for being so sodding angelically flawless. From the first lesson when you playfully threatened him to "behave, Potter, and not soil my education with your unruliness" with that glimmer in your eyes that felt like it must have been reserved for him from a previous life, he has had to pick his jaw up from the floor whenever your eyes meet. The way you carried yourself with a lightheartedness and crackling self-assurance, the way your hair cascaded around you as you turned to him, the way your occasionally crude words towards him were softened by your exuberant tone, as if you took as much pleasure from your back-and-forth exchanges as he did, but with none of the guffawing – a stronger man would have faltered, and James had no qualms about admitting that for you, he was rather weak.

And then there was the way you grinned with your whole body whenever you spoke to your friends and your–

And therein lies the issue.

No gem can sparkle that brightly and not be picked up and admired. To anyone with eyes, let alone ears, it was painfully clear that one Barty Crouch Junior had already snatched up his Treasure, as he called you. James was too late.

The nickname felt tacky in James' mouth as he silently felt around it, trying to figure out what it would feel like to have you as he does. It felt too cheesy, not elegant enough for someone like you, not perfect enough, though James supposes nothing quite could be. Nor was he any better himself, angels and loves had already slipped from his tongue, only to be laughed away as a quip and not a confession – and he didn't even have the right to, not the way Junior did.

You were seated beside James, he could imagine himself feeling your body heat seeping through your clothes and into his if he inched even a centimetre or two closer to you. He could hear your laughter in his ears, he captured the smile in your eyes with his own as often as he could, but even here, within his direct vicinity, he saw the effect Barty had on you. How the two of you seemed to be able to communicate with limited words, mostly through glances and silly facial expressions from where he sat a few rows ahead, fully twisted in his chair to get a good look at you.

James couldn't blame him. It was how he wanted to turn around and stare at you whenever you were near him as well. That maniacal grin on Junior's lips was something James wanted to resent, but also wondered if he would be wearing himself, if he was allowed to brandish it on you.

Unlike Junior, though, he couldn't. James is not a jealous man, he felt he owed his father not to be, but there were few words to describe the sensation building in his throat other than envy. And, perhaps most painfully, a yearning so significant it ached its way through his bones until he was left pliable and broken.

"You with me, Potter?"

James' smile smacked right back onto his lips, albeit slightly more forced than normal as he forced his eyes away – from what he hoped seemed like Junior's general direction and not him specifically – to lock onto yours. There was a quizzical expression on your face and mirth playing over your lips, your soft, beautiful lips.

"Yeah," James made out hoarsely, clearing his throat. "Early mornin' s'all."

The mirth stretched out into a wide, teasing grin on your face, and although James was certain it was at his expense, it melted his own smile into a more genuine one. "Uh-huh. What's made you so tired? You're usually caffeine incarnated first thing in the morning."

"Are you saying you're missing my usual self, love?" Easy, easy, keep it easy.

"I'm saying you're suspicious," you replied with a gleam in your eyes. "Although, you always are. Perhaps it would be suspicious if you weren't behaving suspiciously."

James laughed a bit too loudly at that, warmth spreading in his stomach. "Don't go philosophical on me, L/N."

"I won't, if you don't go boring on me. Transfiguration's enough of a chore as it is."

Pride bloomed out of the spot envy inhabited in James' throat. Somehow he felt just as guilty for both of them, and was just as unable to suppress it as it flowed into his bloodstream.

"Well, when I know you're missin' me so, I can't very well let my best girl down, can I?"

"What a presumptuous young man," you say, words becoming a whisper as McGonnagal walks in to begin her lecture. Despite your smug smile as you said so, James couldn't help but feel slightly rattled at you pointing out the truth to him.

He righted himself in his seat and attempted to dedicate his attention to the Head of Gryffindor, which, unfortunately, he had never been good at even before his entire mind, body and soul seemed to be possessed by the stunner sitting beside him in class. His eyes kept darting over to you, smiling at your facial expressions, even more so when you occasionally caught his gaze with a smile of your own. A strand of hair fell out of your hairstyle as you cocked your head to look at him. James couldn't decide whether he wanted it to stay messy or if he wanted to be the one to tuck it back in for you. His hands remained drumming on the desk.

He attempted to focus up on the lecture, but poor Minnie's voice simply became droning to him when his nose was filled with the smell of you, making him slightly lightheaded. And Merlin, the way you were biting your lip while you took notes – it was an actual miracle he hadn’t melted into a puddle on the classroom floor by now.

Then, his attention was abruptly captured by a small piece of parchment whirring right past his face to force itself into your hand on the desk. You were shaking, smiling over the lip you were still biting as you opened it.

James – in a totally cool non-creepy fashion, of course – tried to get a good luck at the note, but couldn't without giving it away. What he definitely could tell, though, was how Junior was snickering at you over his shoulder like a hyena. Not the borderline scary snicker James had been victim of before, but a fond one, like you were sharing a secret together just the two of you.

Unable to watch more of your reaction, James looked back onto the desk, willing himself away.

You were never one to allow him reprieve, giving him a discreet poke with your wand. When he looked up, your head was in your hand and you were leaning your head sideways to look at him. “Daydreaming again, Potter?” you whispered.

His cheeks burned. “Not a chance,” he responded a bit too quickly, causing you to smile in delight as you leaned closer to him. His heart gave a particularly hard thud at that.

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been staring at my notes for a few minutes, and last I checked, you don’t even take notes. So it's clearly no ruse to copy me.”

“I take notes!" James tried to retort, but when you levelled him with a stare he just smiled indulgently at you instead. "Occasionally."

"Yeah, you're a total swot, babe," you laughed quietly, shooting McGonnagal a quick glance to make sure you're still being discreet.

He knows you're messing with him, he knows it's just colloquialism, but he would have paid embarrassing amounts for you to call him that again.

"Very well might be, you're quite contagious, angel." The slight snort that escaped you at that probably made his day.

“Uh-huh,” you said softly, for the second time that lesson. “Whatever you say, Gryffindor.”

By the grace of Godric, McGonagall dismissed class before James combusted like he thought he would. He exhaled in relief, but it was short-lived as his nerves shot up as you began to pack your stuff, knowing he won't see you again until dinner. Not that he had memorised your schedule, or anything.

He opened his mouth, hoping to think of something clever and smooth to keep your attention for even a second longer, when your usual company approached your shared desk. He heard Junior's laugh before he saw him, eyes still trained on you, and when he turned Barty, Dorcas and Evan had formed some circle around you, chattering away with a casualness he rarely witnessed up close.

“Tomorrow’s going to be incredible,” Dorcas exclaimed almost-giddily, pulling her scarf up around her neck. “I can't wait to let off some steam finally."

“Oh, I'm sure you will, Cas,” you replied teasingly, pointing a finger at her teasingly. "Asked a certain blonde to join you yet?"

"How about you mind your business, Missy?" She shot back trying to shove your face away, but you dodged, using James' arm as a shield. He felt like a mannequin the way he stood beside you, almost dumbly, frozen by the exchange.

Evan just snickered. “Good luck prying Barty away from the game section, he's still pissy about last time."

"You mean when he gambled away all–" Dorcas was shut up with a quick silencio from Barty, which she quickly fought through and stuck her tongue out at him for.

"Hearsay and goss, I tell you!" Barty declared, shoving Evan aside to come stand beside you, arm circling around your waist. "I almost didn't go this year, I'm only joining because Treasure here practically threatened me to."

"Yeah, how dare you even consider leaving me to the wolves," you retorted to him at the same time as Dorcas murmurs something about "yeah, didn't wanna go because you lost so bad".

"Nah, we can't have that," Barty agreed with you while shooting Dorcas a glare, and then he – to James' utter pain and heartbreak – pressed a kiss to the top of your head while squeezing your hip.

Nevermind that it was a quick kiss, nevermind that you laughed at him. James just saw lips against skin.

Now that Junior was basically cuddling you standing up (James wanted no corrections calling this description an exaggeration), James had gravitated further away from you. He may have lost his mind with this whole lovesickness, but he respected you, your choices and your space. With the way you were throwing your head back laughing with your friends about some plans James didn't even know about, he knew he was not wanted nor needed here.

Pulling his bag closer towards his body, he gave a quick nod to no one in particular and turned around, headed towards the door.

"James, wait up!"

Your voice cut through his mind's ramblings, as it always does, and your use of his first name brought flowers to his vision once more. He turned around, hoping to look mostly casual but he's sure his face was an open book. His eyes zeroed in on you walking towards him, leaving your group of friends and Junior behind, but he heard a telltale laughter and he hoped it wasn't at how stupidly in love he looked with someone he could never have.

James blinked at you in confusion as you stopped before him, but you just wore the simplest smile on your face.

“Want to take a walk with me?” you asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

There was mirth in your gaze when you repeated your question. "We both have a free period now, I usually spend it in our common room. But I'm asking if you want to take a walk with me instead?"

James had to physically restrain himself from replying "I know" when you disclosed your habit, while also wondering how and why you came to know his schedule.

He managed to sputter out a response. “Yeah, yes, of course.” He couldn’t quite stop the grin from spreading across his face, and he felt a bit like an overeager puppy, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you looked rather pleased, which only made his heart race faster.

"Enthusiasm gets you everywhere, Potter," you responded calmly, falling into step with him as you led him out of the classroom, leading him down the less-frequented hallways. The road less travelled by.

The two of you strolled down the corridor, side by side, with the chilly autumn breeze filtering through an open window. James wanted to say something witty, something that would make you laugh, but he was mostly in his head, confused about everything that transpired the past few minutes.

"What's that about the fair?" He decided that was safe territory, though he feared having you recount all your plans with Junior there.

"Oh, you have no idea," you started excitedly. James pretended it didn’t cut a bit that he had no idea. "It's this annual fair that Pandora – you know, Rosier – discovered back in fourth. It's got the weirdest, coolest booths and games you'll ever see, with performances from unique professionals. It usually changes every year, last time it was a fire manipulator and a necromancer."

Upon James' quirked brow at you finding fire and necromancy the coolest, you continued. "Come on, you Marauders would have loved it. There's prank ideas and props to last you for months. And there's great food as well."

"Okay, okay," James laughed as he maintained eye contact with you. "I believe you, sounds fun. I hope you guys enjoy it."

If James wasn't as bright as he was, he might have mistook the flash of emotion across your face as a small bout of uncertainty or insecurity.

"Actually, that's something I wanted to ask you about," you started, trailing off as you stopped by one of the larger windows in the hallway, leaning against the windowsill. He followed your example, attention wholly on you. "We have this tradition, my friends and I, that we use the fair as an opportunity to challenge ourselves in some way, do something that... I guess something that scares us."

James just nodded, keeping his attention on you as his heart beats in his chest. Your smile turned a bit rueful.

"That's actually what I was messing with Cas about earlier," you continued. "She's finally asking your friend Marlene out on a date, to go with her to the fair."

That's what you wanted to talk about? James admired you almost more for how dedicated you were to your friends.

"I can tell you without a doubt that Marls would say yes," he reassured you with a smile. "Those two have been a work in progress for ages."

"For so long, it's been physically painful to witness," you laughed. That sound is anything but painful to witness.

James hummed in response, laughter rumbling through his chest as he continued to take you in, scanning your face.

"What are you doing that scares you?" he asked before he could stop himself.

You took a deep breath, chin up in that almost defiant way as you held his gaze. "I'm actually following in Dorcas' footsteps... or I guess perhaps beating her to it, seeing as she hasn't yet."

James blinked at you, clueless as to what you're leading up to.

"I wondered if you wanted to go with me to the fair?"

He felt as if he had been slapped in the face and like he was coming up for air after a long snog. He didn't really know what he felt, just that it was a lot, too much, even for him.

"I'd love to," he blurted out with a breath, words scrambling together. Then, his brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to understand your sentence. "I mean– with me, are you sure? Aren't you going with, erm, with Junior?"

You gave him a puzzled look, cocking your head at him as if he had said something entirely irrelevant. "What do you mean?"

James looked sheepish and couldn’t quite meet your gaze over the sound of his own heart breaking. "I mean, it would be really nice to go with you to the fair, anywhere really, but wouldn't Junior mind?"

"Barty–" You cut yourself off, still looking confused. "Barty's the one who's been encouraging me to ask you out, actually. What are you on about?"

"Why?" was all James could breathe out, world unravelling in a way that made his stomach twist with painful hope.

"Um, because I like you? And unless I have suddenly lost all my interpretation skills, I am quite certain you've been fond of me for quite some time too, Potter."

"I am, but– wait– you are? What?" James guffawed. His intense confusion irritated his skin apparently because he had a sudden urge to scratch the back of his neck, his upper arms and pretty much any other piece of flesh. Maybe the embarrassment could be peeled off that way.

Despite it all, you laughed heartily and, what James was beginning to realise, bemusedly maybe even adoringly at his failure to speak. It seemed like you had pieced together everything he couldn't.

"Yeah, I like you, you sod. Think I just flirt with everyone?"

An "I hope not" lies on the tip of his tongue, but instead he shook his head in admonishment.

"Snake's got your tongue, babe?" you asked him, taking a taunting step closer.

"Looks like it," James mumbled, eyes zeroed in on your face as heat rose to his own. Growing bolder in your declaration, he continued, "I suppose I'm just confused. I always thought you were with Junior? That you two were... in love."

The last words brought a grimace to his lips, like it pained him to say. As if on instinct, your hand shot forward to wipe beneath his bottom lip to coax the frown off his face. His lips parted in shock and suspense at your touch and when you seemed to realise what you had done, you pulled your hand back quickly. You had the decency to look slightly flustered after that, allowing him some semblance of a more even playing field.

"No, James," you whispered with a smile as you shook your head. "Barty is my best friend and I love him with my whole heart. But I never have, and never will be in love with him. Him and Evan have been an item for, like, ages."

Finally, a brilliant smile – one you would later describe to him "shone like the sun" to which he attacked you with kisses because "that's so sodding cute of you to say, you sappy romantic" – took over his face.

Without thinking, he stepped closer to you, hand coming up to brush carefully against your cheek as you looked wide-eyed at his positivity and adoration now radiating off of him. "But you're in love with me?" he whispered with rapture, up to speed at last.

It took you a moment before you chuckled lightly, sheepishly looking down at your feet before once more meeting his piercing gaze.

"How about we start with that date, and see where it goes from there, huh pretty boy?"

So, yes, James most certainly could have and probably should have kicked himself – but right now, he found that he had other business he would much rather attend to.

[sunsetmaidenwrites]

An Essay on SamBucky

Just got back from seeing Captain America: Brave New World and am full of thoughts. The following contains Sambucky-centric thoughts, head canons, and spoilers based on the movie. (I have a separate post that includes my overall thoughts on the movie but this one is solely Sambucky.)

Sambucky nation--we rise! No divorce era for us! (Though it did provide for some awesome, angsty fics). I hope the trend continues with Thunderbolts*. Bucky is obviously looking rougher there than he did in this movie, so we're not out of the woods yet, but I'm feeling pretty good about our chances.

There's so much to say here. Multiple Bucky mentions (Sam alluding to Bucky when he talks about having a friend who was controlled by trigger words.), a picture of SamBucky prominently displayed at Sam's headquarters, Bucky showing up as emotional support when Sam needs him most, the hug, the "Buck" and the "I love you, Buddy." All of these have already been mentioned a lot, though, so for this post (who am I kidding this is an essay!), I would like to highlight a few points pertaining to the movie. I haven't really seen discussed in the Sambucky tag yet.

First, Sam says the following to Bucky at the hospital:

"Joaquin’s in here. Isaiah’s in prison. And Sterns…I had him. I had Sterns right in my hands but he got away." Bucky is given no additional backstory here, which means he already knows who Sterns is and what Sam is dealing with. This indicates Sam and Bucky are in regular contact with Sam keeping Bucky filled in on what's happening. This isn't just a case of Bucky seeing news footage and immediately going to Sam. Bucky is an active part of Sam's life and support system.

Then we have Bucky's line:

"Steve gave people something to believe in, but you give them something to aspire to." Bucky's admiration and devotion to Sam here is quite evident. I fully believe Bucky Barnes is all in for Sam Wilson and has been probably for longer than even he realizes.

Then toward the end of the scene where we get our iconic "Thanks Buck" and "I love you, Buddy" moment:

We have a wealth of unspoken communication here. Sam and Bucky seem to have a whole conversation with both their eyes and body language before they speak these words. Sam looks at Bucky. Looks down at (presumably) Bucky's outstretched hand. Then his eyes cut back up to Bucky. Then they cut back down as he shakes Bucky's hand, then he looks back up at Bucky. For Bucky's part, his eyes never leave Sam's face during the entirety of this. It's only right before he says "I love you, Buddy" that his gaze cuts down from Sam's face. After saying the words, Bucky proceeds to back away and Sam watches him go. The way this scene plays out, and the choices Mackie and Stan make leave a lot of room for subtext and interpretation, imo.

Right after this scene, we also get the female agent coming in with questions/comments about Bucky to Sam, alluding to a possible interest which Sam shuts down with "He's 110 years old." Look, it might make sense for Sam to try to nip a Bucky/Sarah potential connection in the bud like he did in TFATWS and it not mean anything (that's another essay for another day. I wasn't on Tumblr back then to share my thoughts on that.); after all, that's his sister and Bucky was riding on his last nerve through all the previous episodes at that point. It does not, however, make sense for Sam to insert himself into the narrative at this point and try to dissuade a random CIA agent from showing interest in Bucky if Bucky is just his friend and/or Sam's interest in him is purely platonic. It just doesn't. I cannot come up with a logical explanation for this besides the obvious 'that man is mine, step off' conclusion.

And for my last point:

During Sam's final showdown with the red hulk, with the outcome uncertain, and defeat (and therefore death) potentially eminent, Sam proceeds to bitch about Bucky under his breath. "Bucky is full of so much shit..." I know this is supposed to be funny and snarky, but it's also quite telling. We know that the signature of SamBucky's relationship--whether it's platonic or romantic--is the bickering. Not only is Sam spending his potential last moments ranting about Bucky (again, the staple of their relationship), he's also spending them thinking about Bucky. He's going out there facing odds that seem insurmountable and it's Bucky that's on his mind.

So, in conclusion, they're in love.

[armandyke]

Remember then that it was love: The relationship between Amadeo and Marius in Blood and Gold, and how it conflicts with Armand’s version of events

Now that I’ve read both books I want to look at all the discrepancies between Armand’s original account of his relationship with Marius in The Vampire Armand compared to what Marius tells us in Blood and Gold. 

I’m leaving all criticisms of Anne Rice’s possible sloppy writing at the door because we could just go around in circles with that. It’s possible that all of these discrepancies are just results of Anne misremembering what she wrote originally, not hiring editors, etc. but we’re not doing that today. I’m going to be taking everything within these books as intentional and exploring what it says about Marius as a character that he would change/erase/contradict different things. 

(Note: there is literally a 10K word essay below)

Blood and Gold isn’t framed as being Marius’ response to The Vampire Armand, at least not in the way that The Vampire Lestat was Lestat’s response to Interview with the Vampire. He’s not being argumentative, or making a point of contradicting Armand, but considering this book follows on from The Vampire Armand in the series, it does feel like this is his attempt at setting the record straight, and putting out his own version of events. 

Within the context of the book, Marius is explaining all of these events to Thorne, a new character who has spent hundreds of years asleep and only recently awoken. He is vaguely aware of the events of Queen of the Damned through to Memnoch the Devil, which he picked up on while he was asleep, but beyond that he doesn’t know the rest of the characters. More specifically, he hasn’t read Armand’s book, and I think that context is important to remember as I go through this. Marius is speaking to somebody with no prior knowledge of who Armand is, or of the story he told. Essentially, he has the opportunity to deliver his account of events to a completely unbiased, blank slate. This could also explain why he isn’t argumentative in the way that Lestat was in his first book. 

I’m going to try and break this down into sections rather than going through the book chronologically, because otherwise I’m gonna end up repeating the same points over and over. So take my hand and let’s go on a journey into the mind of Marius de Romanus. 

(Also, I’ll be referencing page numbers when I include quotes from the books, more for the sake of helping me keep track of the timelines in both books than anything else since I’ll be going backwards and forwards a bit. These numbers are based on the pdf versions that I have which you can download here and here)

Violence

For me the most notable difference between The Vampire Armand and Blood and Gold is the lack of violence in Marius’ account of events. It’s gonna be hard to draw direct comparisons between the two books for this because I’m pointing out an absence of something, so this is mostly going to be me pointing to quotes from Armand’s book and yelling “But Marius never mentioned any of that!!” 

I will, however, start by taking a moment to point out these lines, which I read and literally laughed at.

“Now, I am by nature not given to physical combat, but in a rage I pushed him off me with such force that he was thrown across the floor and back against the wall.  ‘How dare you?’ I asked fiercely. I struggled to keep my voice low so as not to alarm the mortals in the banquet room. ‘I ought to kill you. What peace of mind it would give me to know you were dead. I could cut you into pieces that no sorcerer could reassemble. Damn you.’  I was trembling with this uncharacteristic and humiliating rage. (Blood and Gold, pg. 134)

I could go into detail about how many times, in this book alone, Marius becomes angry (27), furious (12), or filled with rage (9), but that’s neither here nor there. 

From the combined information in The Vampire Armand and Blood and Gold, we still don’t know a huge amount about Marius’ relationship with the other boys in the palazzo. Within his book, he never mentions anything about using any kind of violence with the boys, nor does he ever mention that the teachers he hires for the boys also use corporal punishment. You could argue that this was common practice in those days, so it wouldn’t have even occurred to him to mention, but this is just the first in a long list of cover ups, so it feels relevant to mention. We know for a fact that physical abuse was common within the palazzo, and Marius was not opposed to punishing the boys himself. 

“He whipped Riccardo for it. I was full of shame. Riccardo took it like a soldier without cries or comment, standing still at a large fireplace in the library, his back turned to receive the blows on his legs. Afterwards, he knelt and kissed the Master’s ring. I vowed I’d never get drunk again.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 57)

This is the only time we get an explicit description of Marius physically punishing other boys in the palazzo, but I think Riccardo’s ability to take his punishment silently makes it clear that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. 

Then, of course, there’s the violence towards Amadeo himself. In Blood and Gold Marius only ever describes one instance of him physically hitting Amadeo. 

“‘I cautioned you on this, did I not?’ I said furiously. ‘And now you weep like a child?’ In a rage, I slapped him.  And in shock he fell back away from me, but his tears flowed all the more.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 361)

Interestingly even in this one account, he mentions Amadeo being shocked by the physical assault, when in Armand’s account of events we get lines like this: 

“He approached me and I shrank back, actually afraid. But by the time he struck me, hard across the face, he’d recovered himself, and it was just the usual brain-jarring blow.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 226)

It’s also interesting that this is the one and only time Marius admits to hitting Amadeo, considering the rest of the context of the conversation. This is a moment shortly after Amadeo’s turning, and after being reunited with Bianca for the first time. Amadeo wants to be able to give the blood to Bianca, and Marius is arguing against him. 

“‘Master, why can we not make her one of us! Why can we not share the Blood with her?’ I took him roughly by the shoulders. He didn’t fear my hands. He didn’t care.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 361)

It could easily be said that this is an argument where Marius seems, from a completely objective perspective, to be right. Amadeo, still a child and also newly turned, is quickly hurtling towards the idea of turning everybody he loves into a vampire so that he can be with them for eternity. It’s an unrealistic and dangerous idea which Marius then puts a stop to, and by doing so he’s also saving Bianca from being turned. Is that why he’s comfortable admitting to using physical force here? Because it’s a situation where it can be more easily justified? Let’s look at some of the violence Armand details in his book, and which Marius never mentions. 

Obviously the most glaring omission in Blood and Gold is the whipping scene. Marius actually uses a whip on Amadeo twice in The Vampire Armand and I’ll get into the second moment in a little bit, but it’s the first scene where we get the most vivid account of the violence he used. 

“I felt the nudge of his knee in the small of my back and then down came the switch across my thighs. Of course I wasn’t wearing anything but the thin stockings that fashion decreed, so I might as well have been naked.  I cried out in pain and then shut my mouth tight. When the next few blows came, walloping my legs, I swallowed all the noise, furious to hear myself make a careless impossible groan.  Again and again, he brought the switch down, whipping my thighs and then my lower legs as well. Enraged, I struggled to get up, pushing vainly on the covers with the heels of my hands. I couldn’t move. I was pinioned by his knee, and he whacked away without the slightest deterrent.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 88)

This is just a small snippet. It’s one of the most drawn out, brutal scenes in the book (five pages total in my pdf). Now let me show you Marius’ summary of events. 

“I sent him off to the best brothels to learn the pleasures of women, and the pleasures of boys. He hated me for it, and yet he enjoyed it, and he came home to me eager for the Blood Kiss and nothing else.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 322)

I’m gonna be coming back to this scene again later when I talk about the sexual aspect of their relationship. But for now I’m focusing purely on the physical violence, or, more specifically, the complete lack of it in Marius’ account. 

I think it’s important to note at this point, for people who haven’t read the book, that Marius hasn’t been shying away from detailing other acts of violence in here. He gets into physical altercations with Mael, attacks and kills Eudoxia, and kills multiple unnamed vampires. Even when it comes to his relationship with Pandora, he talks a lot more openly about acting aggressively and forcefully with her. 

“‘Stop it, Pandora. It isn’t necessary that I give her up. We are not mortals! We can live together.’  I took her by the arms. I shook her. Her hair did come loose and then violently and cruelly I pulled at it, and I buried my face in her hair.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 513/514)

So what’s the difference? Why can he be open about his aggression towards Pandora and the other vampires, but not towards Amadeo. I have a lot of thoughts about this, and I’m gonna go a bit more in depth on the differences specifically between his accounts of his dynamics with Pandora and Bianca compared to Amadeo, but perhaps it comes down to the simple fact that Pandora was a centuries old vampire, and Amadeo was a child. A human child. Perhaps it comes down to the simple fact that Marius knew there was no way to spin this moment without painting himself as a monster. 

Moving on to the second time he whips Amadeo, this is when we get one of the more glaring discrepancies. In this case we don’t just have Marius omitting something, we see him actively contradicting Armand’s account of events. 

Interesting to note that in this second moment Amadeo is a vampire, though still a child and quite newly turned. This is another scene that’s quite drawn out in The Vampire Armand so I’m gonna break it down by showing the initial assault first, because I think it’s important to emphasise just how violent Marius was in Armand’s version, and then I can explain some of the context of the scene and get into the contradictions. 

“I turned away from him. I figured he was being dramatic and that he would go away. The switch came crashing down again and this time there followed a volley of blows.  I felt the blows in a way I’d never felt them when mortal. I was stronger, more resistant to them, but for a split second each blow broke through my preternatural guard and caused an exquisite explosion of pain.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 211)

This scene comes shortly after Marius takes Amadeo to Kyiv to see his home and his family again. Pretty understandably (to me at least) Amadeo goes into a bit of a slump after they return to Venice, coming to terms with all of the memories he's finally recovered, as well as the fact that he will never be the person from those memories again. He’s seventeen and coming to terms with the fact that the family he’d forgotten loved him, that they still do love him, and that he’s now had to say goodbye to them forever. 

And Marius does seem to understand this. To some extent at least he seems to acknowledge the conflict going on in Amadeo’s head and appreciates why he's become withdrawn. Now let's compare the two scenes. 

“‘You’ve had enough time to grieve and to weep,’ he said, ‘and to reevaluate all you’ve been given. Now it’s back to work. Go to the desk and prepare to write. Or I’ll whip you some more.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 211)

“When would he finally pick up the brushes and paint? I didn’t know, but such a question didn’t matter anymore. He was mine and mine forever. He could do what he pleased.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 375)

“He smacked me across the face. I was dizzy. As my eyes cleared, I looked into his.  ‘I want your attention again. I want you to come out of your meditation. Go to your desk and write for me a summary of what your journey in Russia meant to you, and what you see now here that you could not see before. Make it concise, use your finest similes and metaphors and write it cleanly and quickly for me.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 211)

“I tried to forget my jealousy or ignore it. After all, what was to be done about it? Should I remind him of his journey and torment him with questions? I could not do such a thing.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 375)

I don't think you really need me to point out the glaring difference between the two. From Marius’ perspective he was understanding and patient with him, waiting for him to return to his activities in his own time. From Armand’s account Marius physically beat him and continued to threaten him with more violence unless he complied and went back to work. 

Again we have to remember that Blood and Gold followed after The Vampire Armand. And you have to question what effect Armand’s account had on the story Marius then went on to tell. He claims he understood Amadeo’s feelings and struggles at the time, but did he? Or is he able to understand them now in hindsight, having read Armand’s version? 

Sex and Romance

Much like the physical violence, this is another case of omission rather than direct contradiction, so it’s harder to draw direct comparisons between the two books. A pretty significant aspect of The Vampire Armand is the sexual relationship between Amadeo and Marius, but in Blood and Gold this is almost completely erased. The only time Marius mentions any kind of sexual act with Amadeo is in the initial bathtub scene, which remains mostly unchanged between the two versions. 

“Taking Amadeo into the bath, I cleansed him myself and covered him with kisses. I drew from him an easy intimacy which he had denied all those who had tormented him, so dazzled and confused was he by my simple kindnesses, and the words I whispered in his tender ears. I brought him quickly to know the pleasures which he had never allowed himself before. He was dazed and silent; but his prayers for deliverance were no more.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 308/309)

“I groaned for all of this. I sank against him in the warm water, and his lips went down my chest to my belly. He sucked tenderly at the skin as if he were sucking up the salt and the heat from it, and even his forehead nudging my shoulder filled me with warm and thrilling sensations. I put my arm around him, and when he found the sin itself, I felt it go off as if an arrow had been shot from it, and it were a crossbow; I felt it go, this arrow, this thrust, and I cried out.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 41)

Throughout the rest of The Vampire Armand we get multiple more accounts of sexual acts Marius performed on him, and I’m not gonna sit here and quote all of them because I don’t think it will add anything to my argument. Instead, let’s look at how Marius describes things, or, more accurately, the way he doesn’t. This next quote is one of the only hints at any other physical relationship between the two of them following the bath scene.

“Yet in the late evenings, when the lessons had ceased and the little boys had been put to bed, and the older boys were finishing tasks in my studio, I couldn’t stop myself from taking Amadeo into my bedroom study, and there I visited on him my carnal kisses, my sweet and bloodless kisses, my kisses of need, and he gave himself to me without reserve.”  (Blood and Gold, pg. 315)

This is probably the closest he gets to hinting at his desire for Amadeo, but it’s certainly nothing close to the levels we see in The Vampire Armand. It’s also the last reference we get to the sexual side of their relationship, and it’s soon followed up with this line.

“Here in Venice for Marius de Romanus, there was none. But Amadeo had his suspicions, not as to the kisses that were fast becoming all too chaste for him, but as to the man of seeming marble, who never supped at his own table, nor took a drop of wine from a goblet, or ever appeared beneath his own roof during the light of day.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 316)

This quote references another, much longer scene in The Vampire Armand, in which Amadeo confronts Marius about the nature of their relationship. Specifically about the fact that Marius performs sexual acts for him while not wanting anything in return. 

“‘Well, now,’ I said. ‘There’s a great mystery here and you know it. It’s time you told me.’ ‘What?’ he asked obligingly enough. ‘Why do you never… Why do you never feel anything! Why do you handle me as if I were a poppet? Why do you never…?’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 66)

And this is one of those moments where I think it’s important to remember the context of the book. As readers, we know that “kisses that were fast becoming all too chaste for him” is referring to Amadeo wanting more from a relationship that is already sexual. But Marius isn’t speaking to us, he’s speaking to somebody with no prior knowledge of Armand or his book. 

From an outside perspective, with none of the additional context, couldn’t “fast becoming all too chaste for him” easily be interpreted to mean there was no sexual relationship at all? 

And again, just like with the violence, this isn’t a topic that Marius avoids altogether in his book. He gets quite explicit during a scene with Bianca. 

“And as my fingers tightened and caressed her, as his kisses grew more fervent, she grew bloodred with her cresting passion and fell softly against Amadeo’s arm.  I withdrew, kissing her forehead as though she were chaste again.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 359)

I’m also including that follow up line, just to emphasise the previous point that Marius absolutely means “non-sexual” when he refers to his relationship with Amadeo as “chaste”. 

So, once again, you have to wonder what the difference is. Why is he comfortable sharing explicit details of a sexual act with Bianca, but not Amadeo? Is it, again, down to the simple fact that Amadeo was a child? Or does it go deeper? 

When Marius comes upon Amadeo, he takes him home and we get the bath scene, the one and only time he references anything sexual happening between them. It’s after this that he then has the idea to groom Amadeo into the “ideal” vampire companion. 

“This was a foundling who could be educated for the Blood! This was a child utterly lost to life who could be reclaimed specifically for the Blood.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 309)

Which then leads us to this thought. 

“My mind went back swiftly to Eudoxia and how she had spoken of the perfect age for the Blood to be received. I remembered Zenobia and her quick wits and knowing eyes. I remembered my own long ago reflection on the promise of a virgin, that one could make of a virgin what one wished without price.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 309/310)

Earlier in the book Marius met Zenobia, a fledgling of Eudoxia’s who explained some of her background to him. She tells him that she believed Eudoxia chose her as an ideal companion because of her youth and her virginity (interestingly, she was also a slave, though Marius never reflects upon this additional similarity). 

Of course, this completely contradicts what he finds in Amadeo, a child sex slave. Marius is well aware of the abuse Amadeo has suffered, he knows he’s not a virgin, but he still has these thoughts all the same. My personal interpretation is that Marius is referring to Amadeo’s amnesia. The fact that, having pulled Amadeo from the brothel and given him a home, he has essentially been “reborn”, making him a virginal figure in that sense rather than specifically referring to his sexual history. But I still don’t think it's insignificant that Marius makes this observation and then goes on to erase all the subsequent sexual interactions they had, retroactively purifying him in a sense. 

This is slightly contradicted by the fact that Marius does admit to sending Amadeo to multiple brothels. It seems that Marius is only concerned with removing himself from the equation, rather than completely erasing Amadeo’s sexuality. 

Another very significant omission from Blood and Gold, which also slots into the topic of their sexual relationship, is the blood drinking. In The Vampire Armand, Marius begins drinking Amadeo’s blood after he confronts him about his lack of sexuality. He then continues to do this throughout their relationship all the way through to Amadeo’s turning. In Marius’ account, however, he never mentions this. 

We can see how intertwined the blood drinking is with their sexual relationship here. 

“‘Amadeo,’ he said, his lips on my throat as they’d come and gone a thousand times, only this time there came a sting, sharp, swift and gone. A thread stitched into my heart and was jerked all of a sudden. I had become the thing between my legs, and was nothing but that. His mouth nestled against me, and again that thread snapped and again.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 67)

This is the first instance of Marius drinking Amadeo’s blood, and it then continues to happen in each subsequent sexual encounter we see. 

I think it’s important to consider the use of blood drinking as an allegory for sexual assault throughout the book series, especially in The Vampire Armand. Amadeo, still a child, feels Marius drinking from him, but doesn’t fully understand what is being done. It’s not until much later when he sees Marius drink from somebody else that he fully understands what was happening. 

“Astonished and enthralled, I watched as my master closed his smooth eyes, his golden eyelashes seeming silvery in the dimness, and I heard the low wet sound, barely audible but horribly suggestive of the flow of something, and that something had to be the man’s blood.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 96)

It’s easy to draw parallels between the blood drinking and CSA. Amadeo was a child, being sexually assaulted, and still too innocent to understand what was being done to him. So I think it’s significant that, as well as erasing the explicit sexual acts, Marius also never admits to drinking Amadeo’s blood. 

The reason for Marius omitting this from his account to Thorne could, again, be because on some level he recognises that the things he did to Amadeo were wrong. But I think it may also relate to Marius’ constant insistence that vampires only drink from “the evil doer”.

“‘I understand it,’ she answered too quickly. ‘So Amadeo told me all that you’d taught him. Only the Evil Doer. Never the innocent, I know.’” “Blood and Gold, pg. 421)

This is one of the most steadfast rules Marius follows, and one he impresses on every other vampire he meets. In fact one of the main reasons for Marius viewing Armand as “lost” to them after joining the Children of Darkness is that he witnesses him drinking from innocents. 

“‘Well, he’s no child now, Bianca. He may be as beautiful as when I made him through the Blood, but he is a patriarch in the dust. And all of Paris, the wondrous city of Paris, surrounds him. I watched him move through the city streets alone. There was no one there to restrict him. He might have sought the Evil Doer as we do. But he did not. He drank deep of innocent blood, not once but twice.’ ‘Ah, I see. This is what has so embittered you.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 490)

But surely he considered Amadeo to be innocent. Certainly not evil at least. Well, there’s an argument that could be made about Marius always viewing Amadeo as inherently barbaric, purely due to his nationality, but I’m not gonna get into all that here. No, I think that Marius is aware of Amadeo’s innocence. I think that he couldn’t resist drinking from him, and he redacts that part of his story because he knows it goes against everything he’s ever preached.

I think the most important thing to consider on this topic is, if Amadeo truly enthusiastically consented to all the sexual activities happening in The Vampire Armand, why did Marius erase it?

Personality/Dialogue

Getting now into something that we can compare more directly, I wanna look at Amadeo as a character and how starkly different he is in Blood and Gold compared to The Vampire Armand. To an extent there were always going to be differences, because we’re comparing how a character perceived themself vs how they are perceived by others, but the differences here are so severe that I think it speaks volumes about how Marius viewed Amadeo in general. 

To put it as bluntly as possible, Amadeo is barely a character in Blood and Gold. He doesn’t contribute to discussions, or to the narrative as a whole. In essence, he’s Marius’ sexy lamp. It becomes very apparent very quickly how differently Amadeo is going to be portrayed, even from their very first conversation. 

“My Master looked at me and in a tongue I knew, I knew perfectly, he said that I was his only child, and he would come again that night, and by such a time as that I would have seen a new world.  ‘A new world!’ I cried out. ‘No, don’t leave me, Master. I don’t want the whole world. I want you!’ ‘Amadeo,’ he said in this private tongue of confidence, leaning over the bed, his hair dry now and beautifully brushed, his hands softened with powder. ‘You have me forever. Let the boys feed you, dress you. You belong to me, to Marius De Romanus, now.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 41)

“‘Master,’ he said softly in the Russian tongue.  I felt the tiny hairs rise all over my body. I wanted so to touch him once more with my cold fingers but I did not dare. I knelt beside the bed and leant over and I kissed his cheek warmly.  ‘Amadeo,’ I said to him so that he might know his new name.  And then using the very Russian tongue he knew, but did not know, I told him that he was mine now, that I was his Master just as he had said. I gave him to know that all things were resolved in me. He must never worry, he would never fear again.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 312)

Throughout the entirety of Blood and Gold, Amadeo’s dialogue is very limited. He rarely speaks unless spoken to, rarely argues back, and, for the most part, seems only to parrot the things Marius has already told him. This massively contradicts Armand’s account of himself in The Vampire Armand. Obviously, we can’t rule out the possibility that Armand was also exaggerating his personality in his version of events. Considering the brutal punishments Marius inflicted on him, I think it would be understandable for Armand to exaggerate how often he misbehaved and argued back in some attempt to make sense of why he was treated that way. 

Another thing to take into account is that from Marius’ account, we get a much better idea of the severity of Amadeo’s amnesia and the way it affected him. It seems that Amadeo was frequently dissociating whenever Marius attempted to force him to remember his past. Perhaps the dissociation means that Armand simply doesn’t recall a lot of these moments in Venice, whereas Marius had a more objective view at that time. Still, I don’t think that accounts for such a drastic difference in behaviour. 

Consider the last quote from Blood and Gold, which is the first dialogue exchanged between Marius and Amadeo. It will be over twenty pages before they have another full conversation (arguably their first actual conversation of the book so far). And between those two exchanges Amadeo has only one line of dialogue. 

“‘Do you know her, Master?’ he asked me soberly, surprising Riccardo, who said nothing.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 317)

For over twenty pages Marius describes the development of his relationship with Amadeo, and the progress of his education, and in that entire time Amadeo will speak five words. 

I’ve talked before about the issues with Anne Rice’s dialogue, how when the characters speak their voices are all very one note and practically indistinguishable from each other. Despite that, however, there were multiple points while reading Blood and Gold that it seemed noticeable that Amadeo’s dialogue wasn’t his own. The example that most stood out to me was the conversation between Marius and Amadeo after Marius has revealed his nature and killed in front of him several times. It’s one of the few conversations that is directly repeated in both books, but there are still notable differences. Sorry in advance for the long ass quotes but I want to try and show the full conversations here. 

“‘If I drink such as that, Master, the blood of the wicked and those whom I overpower, will I become like you?’  He shook his head. Many a man has drunk another’s blood, Amadeo,’ he said in a low but calm voice. His reason had come back to him, his manners, his seeming soul. ‘Would you be with me, and be my pupil and my love?’  ‘Yes, Master, always and forever, or for so long as nature gives to you and me.’ ‘Oh, it isn’t fanciful the words I spoke. We are immortal. And only one enemy can destroy us - it’s the fire that burns in that torch there, or in the rising sun. Sweet to think on it, that when we are at last weary of all this world there is the rising sun.’

‘I am yours, Master.’ I hugged him close and tried to vanquish him with kisses. He endured them, and even smiled, but he didn’t move. But when I broke off, and made a fist of my right hand as if to hit him, which I could never have done, to my amazement he began to yield.  He turned and took me in his powerful and ever careful embrace.  ‘Amadeo, I can’t go on without you,’ he said. His voice was desperate and small. ‘I meant to show you evil, not sport. I meant to show you the wicked price of my immortality. And that I did. But in so doing, I saw it myself, and my eyes are dazzled and I am hurt and tired.’  He laid his head against my head, and held tight to me.  ‘Do what you will to me, Sir,’ I said. ‘Make me suffer and long for it, if that’s what you want. I am your fool. I am yours.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 120/121)

“‘Master,’ he asked, ‘if I drink the blood of those who are evil, will I become like you?’ We stood before the closed doors of San Marco. The wind came mercilessly off the sea. I drew my cloak about him all the more tightly, and he rested his head against my chest.  ‘No, child,’ I said, ‘there’s infinitely more magic in it than that.’ ‘Master,’ he said, as I held him close to me, ‘long years ago, or so they seem to me, in some far-away place, where I lived before I came to you, I was what they called a Fool for God. I don’t remember it clearly and never will as both of us well know. But a Fool for God was a man who gave himself over to God completely and did not care what happened, whether it was mockery, or starvation, or endless laughter, or dreadful cold. That much I remember, that I was a Fool for God in those times.’ ‘But you painted pictures, Amadeo, you painted beautiful ikons-’ ‘But listen to me, Master,’ he said firmly, forcing me to silence, ‘whatever I did, I was a Fool for God, and now I would be a Fool for you.’ He paused, snuggling close to me as the wind grew stronger. The mists moved in over the stones. There came noises from the ships.’ I started to speak but he reached to stop me. How obdurate and strong he seemed, how seductive, how completely mine.  ‘Master,’ he went on. ‘Do it when you will. You have my secrecy. You have my patience. Do it when and how you will.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 342/343)

I wanna start by talking about the difference in Marius’ involvement in the conversation. In the version Marius tells, he is very passive, listening while Amadeo, apparently unprompted, speaks deprecatingly about his past religion before going on to devote himself to Marius. In Armand’s version, Marius asks him directly to state his devotion to him, asking “Would you be with me?”

Then there’s the fixation, in Marius’ account, on Amadeo being a “fool for God”. This is something Amadeo does also mention in The Vampire Armand, though it’s spoken in an earlier conversation in Armand’s version. 

“‘Don’t think me cold, Sir,’ I said. ‘Don’t think me tired and used to things brutal and cruel. I am only the fool, Sir, the fool for God. We don’t question, if memory serves me right. We laugh and we accept and we turn all life into joy.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg 100)

The change in context is important here too. In The Vampire Armand, Amadeo refers to himself as a “fool for God” as a way to explain why he wasn’t horrified or disgusted by the revelation of Marius being a vampire. To him this phrase means that, through his religion, he was able to accept negative or even horrifying events, and to find joy and meaning in them. It doesn’t seem, at least in Armand’s eyes, that this was necessarily a negative thing. He’s simply explaining that his religion taught him how to cope with frightening things. 

Conversely, the Amadeo in Blood and Gold uses the term “fool for God” as something derogatory, and this is what I mean when I say his dialogue in this book doesn’t seem like his own. We know from his interactions with Pandora, Mael, and numerous other characters that Marius has a very negative opinion of religion and worship (despite the fact that he himself frequently performs religious rituals and prays to Those Who Must Be Kept, he refuses to acknowledge this as a form of worship). The changes in wording between the two books are subtle, but we can see clearly how Marius’ own views are being spliced in. “We accept” becomes “did not care”. 

Despite all of this, it’s then interesting to note that in Blood and Gold, we then see Amadeo effectively proclaim Marius as his new god. While Amadeo does refer to himself both as “a fool for God” and “your fool” within The Vampire Armand, these are in two separate conversations, and it doesn’t appear as though Amadeo was referencing the previous conversation when he says this. But in the version Marius presents, Amadeo explicitly states “I was a fool for God, and now I would be a fool for you.” 

It gives the impression, to me at least, that for all Marius’ disdain for the idea of worship and religious idols, he wants to present himself as someone to be worshipped by Amadeo. Or, at least, he wants to present the idea that this is what Amadeo believed. 

The final thing I want to look at before I move on from this conversation is the tone of Amadeo’s final line in each version. 

“‘Do what you will to me, Sir,’ I said. ‘Make me suffer and long for it, if that’s what you want. I am your fool. I am yours.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 121)

“‘Master,’ he went on. ‘Do it when you will. You have my secrecy. You have my patience. Do it when and how you will.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 343)

And again this is what I mean when I say Amadeo’s dialogue doesn’t seem to be entirely his own in Blood and Gold. There’s a flatness to the things he says a lot of the time, a lack of any kind of emotion. To me it gives the impression that Marius was very uninvested in Amadeo as a person. Unlike his retelling of his relationship with Pandora or Bianca, or even any of the other characters, in which he describes their passion and emotional responses with much more depth, this section of his story has an almost clinical feel to it. It’s as if he sees it as simply a series of plot points he has to get through in order to tell this part of the story, rather than a relationship he recalls with any fondness. 

There’s also the subtle difference in language again. “Do what you will to me” becomes “Do it when you will.” “Make me suffer” becomes “You have my patience.” Armand’s version gives much more of a sense of his passion and longing, while Marius’ version presents Amadeo as flatly obedient. 

Returning to the idea that Amadeo’s dialogue in Blood and Gold tends to reflect Marius’ own views, rather than being an honest representation of the things Amadeo said, I want to look at this quote again. 

“‘Don’t think me cold, Sir,’ I said. ‘Don’t think me tired and used to things brutal and cruel. I am only the fool, Sir, the fool for God. We don’t question, if memory serves me right. We laugh and we accept and we turn all life into joy.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 100)

Much later in the timeline of events in Blood and Gold, we get this quote from Amadeo after he has become a vampire, explaining why he believes Marius chose him for the blood. 

“‘There’s a bitter cold in me,’ he said, ‘a cold which comes from a distant land. And nothing ever really makes it warm. Even the Blood did not make it warm. You knew of this cold. You tried a thousand times to melt it, and transform it into something more brilliant, but you never succeeded. And then on the night that I came near to death - no, was, in fact, dying - you counted upon that cold to give me the stamina for the Blood.’ I nodded. I looked away, but he put his hand on my shoulder.  ‘Look at me, please, sir,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that so?’ His face was serene.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 363)

It’s quite a shift in belief, as far as Amadeo is concerned. In The Vampire Armand, Amadeo doesn’t want to be seen as cold and unfeeling, in fact he actively argues against it when Marius tries to imply that this is the case. But in Blood and Gold, it is Amadeo who refers to himself in this way. And again this raises the question of how much of Amadeo’s dialogue in Blood and Gold is true, and how much is simply a reflection of Marius’ existing opinions and biases. By giving this dialogue to Amadeo, Marius is effectively shifting the blame away from himself. Marius wasn’t making unfair judgements or assumptions about Amadeo, because it was Amadeo himself who first said these things. 

As I said earlier, a large amount of Amadeo’s dialogue from The Vampire Armand is cut out from Blood and Gold, but now let’s look at an example where the inverse happens. We’re still at roughly the same point in time (because this is one of only a few occasions in Blood and Gold where Marius actually details any conversations occurring between him and Amadeo). These quotes are from slightly earlier than the conversation we were just looking at, and take place immediately after Amadeo witnesses Marius killing somebody for the first time. 

“I was speechless. Fear, loathing, these things had no part in it. I was simply amazed. If I thought, I thought it was wondrous.  In a sudden fit of seeming anger, my Master hurled the man’s body to his left and ot into the water where it fell with a dull splashing and bubbling sound.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 97)

“‘Have you no tears for the man, Amadeo?’ I asked. ‘Have you no questions as to the disposition of his soul? Without Sacred Rites, he died. He died only for me.’ ‘No, Master,’ he answered, and then a smile played on his lips as though it were a flame which had sprung from mine. ‘It’s marvelous what I saw, Master. What do I care for his body or his soul?’ I was too angry to respond. There had been no lesson in it! He was too young, the night too dark, the man too wretched, and all that I had foreseen had come to nought.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 338)

In this case, Marius actually inserts some dialogue where in The Vampire Armand we had none, and this decision raises a particularly interesting question. Does Marius conflate Amadeo’s inner thoughts with his spoken dialogue? It’s a pretty terrifying prospect, that Marius could at any point lash out angrily in response to Amadeo’s thoughts in the same way he would to something he speaks out loud. Who hasn’t had negative, mean spirited thoughts pop into their head at some point or another? Especially as a teenager. 

Overall, there are several factors that might explain why Marius chose to change so much in terms of Amadeo’s personality and behaviour. It’s interesting to note as well that Amadeo’s aggression and violent outbursts are also cut from Blood and Gold, so it isn’t necessarily that Marius is attempting to paint a picture in which he was always the good guy trying to keep Amadeo under control. 

Being completely honest, I think it boils down to Marius just not caring about Amadeo. I think he loved him, but he loved him purely as an object and as a project to see through to completion. His relationship with Amadeo is barely even portrayed as romantic, in comparison to his relationships with Pandora and Bianca. From the moment Marius found him, he viewed Amadeo as something he could shape into the “ideal” vampire, and so his personality and identity outside of Marius was just… never important to him. 

Timeline

Now we’re really cooking with gas, let's get into the timeline conflicts. There are two that I’m gonna talk about here which I noticed, though there might also be others as well. 

The first one I want to look at is something I didn’t pick up on until my second read through while writing this essay/thesis/ramble, and though it’s not necessarily a complete conflict in terms of the timeline, it is very odd. Unfortunately it means we have to return to my beloved enemy, the whipping scene. 

While the whipping scene is completely absent from Blood and Gold, there is an event which follows on from that scene which is present in both books, and this is the conversation in which Marius first reveals the subject of Those Who Must Be Kept to Amadeo. 

“‘Child. I go to see Those Who Must Be Kept. I have no choice in this.’  For a moment I said nothing. I tried to understand the denotation of the words he’d spoken. His voice had dropped, and he had said the words halfheartedly.  ‘What is that, Master?’ I asked.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 92)

“‘That I cannot do,’ I answered. And out of my mouth there came words I thought I’d never speak. ‘I go to Those Who Must Be Kept,’ I said as if I couldn’t hold the secret within me. ‘To see if they are at peace. I do as I have always done.’ What a look of wonder came over his face.  ‘Those Who Must Be Kept,’ he whispered. He said it like a prayer.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 333)

So, without the whipping scene, you might be wondering what precedes the same conversation in Blood and Gold. Well, according to Marius, this is also the day that Mael visits the palazzo. 

“Amadeo saw him. Again, for several fatal moments, Amadeo saw him. And I knew that something deep inside Amadeo recognized Mael for the creature that he was. But like so many things in the mind of Amadeo, it wasn’t conscious, and the boys left me with quick kisses, off to sing their songs to Bianca, and be flattered by everyone there. I was impatient with Mael that he had come out of the bedchamber, but I didn’t say it.  ‘So would you make a blood drinker of that one,’ he said, pointing to the door through which the boys had left us. He smiled.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 330)

This is something I only noticed when reading the two books side by side and spotting the repeated conversation about Those Who Must Be Kept, but yes, according to Marius’ account of events, the night that he whipped Amadeo bloody was apparently also the same night that Mael was staying in the building. 

In The Vampire Armand, Armand makes no mention of Mael’s visit. However we have evidence from as early as Queen of the Damned that this visit did happen. 

“‘And so you would make that one?’ Mael had asked with simple directness. ‘When it’s time,’ Marius had said dismissively, ‘when it’s time.’” (Queen of the Damned, pg. 282)

So, what does this mean? The way I see it there are two possibilities: Either these events did take place on the same day, or they didn’t. 

If these events did take place on the same day, it would be completely understandable that Armand wouldn’t mention Mael’s visit, considering everything else that happened to him on that one night. Honestly, I think it would be believable that even in the moment Amadeo completely forgot about the strange blonde man he’d seen loitering around the palazzo after then being whipped to the point that he had to dissociate to try and cope with the amount of pain. I think it would certainly be very weird if the two things did happen on the same night, but it’s possible. 

However, the whole point of this essay is to explore what the reasons might be for Marius excluding or changing certain things, so let’s consider that. Let’s consider the possibility that these events didn’t occur at the same time. 

Armand didn’t mention Mael’s visit in his version of events, which essentially gives Marius free reign with the timeline, so why choose specifically this day to claim that Mael was there? Well, for starters, Marius has given himself a witness. Suddenly this is no longer just Armand’s word against Marius, it’s now become Armand’s word against Marius and Mael. With very minimal effort, Marius has managed to throw Armand’s entire account of events into question. Why didn’t he mention Mael? Does Armand even remember Mael? How can we trust any of the things he said if he can’t remember? 

Considering all of this, I also want to point out this line at the end of their conversation in Marius’ account. 

“I bent to kiss Amadeo, and the heat of his body inflamed me.  ‘Master, give me the Blood,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘Master, tell me what you are.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 334)

This is the closest we get to Marius’ account of the whipping scene, and he reduces it down to almost a single line, in which Amadeo asks for it. 

Following directly on from this scene, we get to the biggest contradiction between the two books. In this case, it isn’t just the timelines aligning strangely, we actually get a completely different ordering of events. 

In The Vampire Armand, after the whipping scene and the conversation about Those Who Must Be Kept, Marius then decides to reveal his vampire nature to Amadeo. He kills several times in front of him, and then leaves to visit Those Who Must Be Kept. While Marius is away, Lord Harlech attacks the palazzo and fatally wounds Amadeo, who is then tended to by Bianca for several days until Marius returns and gives him the blood. I think the most important thing to emphasise is that in Armand’s account, Marius wasn’t at the palazzo, or even in Venice, when Amadeo was attacked. 

“‘The Master will know,’ said Riccardo. He looked drawn and miserable, and his lips quivered. His eyes were flooded with tears. Oh, ominous sign, certainly. ‘The Master will know somehow. He knows all things. The Master will break his journey and come home.’ ‘Wash his face,’ said Bianca calmly. ‘Wash his face and be quiet.’  How brave she was.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 132)

However, in Blood and Gold, we get a completely different order of events. Following the conversation about Those Who Must Be Kept, Marius then leaves to visit them and ask permission to reveal his nature to Amadeo. When he returns, he kills several times in front of him, and it is only the following day that Lord Harlech attacks, while Marius is at home in Venice sleeping nearby the palazzo. 

“No one had to tell me, as I rushed down the stairs from the roof, that a drunken violent English lord had come rampaging into my house in search of Amadeo for whom he harbored a forbidden passion, which had been somewhat fed by Amadeo’s dalliance on random nights when I had been away.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 345)

It’s easily the most noticeable change in the book, considering in The Vampire Armand we get an entire chapter dedicated to Amadeo fighting off the poison and fever until Marius finally returns home, but in Blood and Gold this is completely rewritten. Why? I think the most obvious answer is that Marius was well aware of the danger Amadeo was in when he left him. He knew the risks, abandoned Amadeo anyway, and it backfired, essentially resulting in Amadeo’s death. So, in his version, he tried to absolve himself of any responsibility by claiming he had been there the whole time. 

Or, maybe, it’s not about Amadeo at all. Maybe it’s about Those Who Must Be Kept. In Blood and Gold, Marius went to them specifically to request permission to reveal his nature to Amadeo, while in The Vampire Armand he did this before consulting them. Perhaps even now Marius is still ruled by his devotion to them, and he couldn’t bring himself to admit to acting without permission. 

Armand’s Turning

While the timeline is up for debate, what we know for certain is that after Amadeo was poisoned, Marius made him a vampire. The process is described in both books but, again, there are differences between the two versions. The change in the timeline already significantly impacts things. In The Vampire Armand we don’t have a good idea of how long Amadeo is suffering before Marius finally returns, but it’s drawn out across two chapters which seems to indicate it was at least a day if not more, whereas in Blood and Gold Marius was there to immediately ease his suffering. The overall impression in The Vampire Armand is that Armand’s turning was a frightening, painful experience, while Marius gives the impression of a very controlled environment. 

“‘Come to me, Amadeo.’ ‘I’m too weak, Master, I’m fainting, I’m dying in this glorious light.’  I took one step after another, though it seemed impossible. I placed one foot before the other, drawing ever closer to him. I stumbled.  ‘On your hands and knees, then, come. Come to me.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 158)

“‘Come to me,’ I said. I held out my arms.  He took the first steps, unsure of himself, so full of my blood that surely the light itself must have amazed him, but his eyes were moving over the multitudes of figures painted on the wall. Then he looked directly at me.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 351)

Obviously, it makes sense that from Marius’ perspective this scene would be less emotionally charged, since he’s viewing it from an outside perspective while Amadeo is living through it, but the difference in tone is pretty significant. In Armand’s version, he remembers having to literally crawl on his hands and knees to get the rest of the blood from Marius and complete the transformation. He’s barely strong enough to move, but Marius forces him to fight to stay alive. 

Meanwhile in Blood and Gold, we get no real impression of how much Amadeo was struggling. He doesn’t mention forcing him to crawl to him, only that he was “unsure of himself”. 

“I lay on the floor. He stood above me, and his hands were open to me. ‘Get up, Amadeo. Come, come up, into my arms. Take it.’ I cried. I sobbed. My tears were red, and my hand was stained with red. ‘Help me, Master.’ ‘I do help you. Come, seek it out for yourself.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 159)

“‘Come, Amadeo, come and take it from me,’ I said, my eyes full of tears. ‘You are the victor. Take what I have to give.’ He was in my arms instantly, and I held him warmly, whispering close to his ear. ‘Don’t be afraid, child, not even for a moment. You’ll die now to live forever, as I take your blood and give it back to you. I won’t let you slip away.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 351)

In The Vampire Armand, Amadeo is on the floor, crying and begging for help while Marius barks orders at him and refuses to do anything to ease his suffering, but in Blood and Gold we get a completely different picture. Marius describes himself as overcome with emotion, as holding Amadeo “warmly”, whispering words of comfort to him. 

It’s possible that Armand’s turning was an incredibly traumatic experience, and that’s why he remembers it in such a negative light. But then, if Marius was as caring and gentle with him as he claims, would it have been a traumatic experience at all? If Marius held him through it and comforted him the way he described, why does Armand remember crying and dragging himself across the floor, fighting to stay alive?

There’s another small detail I want to point out before I move on completely. It’s not part of the turning per say, but it is part of that overall scene and I wasn’t sure it really fit into the other sections. 

Before turning him, in both books, Marius bathes him and heals all his wounds, preparing him for immortality. It’s pretty much the same from both accounts but there is one tiny detail that I clocked immediately when reading Blood and Gold for the first time. 

“I stripped off his thick and soiled velvet clothes. And then into the warm water I placed him, and there with the blood from my mouth I sealed all the cuts in the flesh made by Lord Harlech. I shaved off for all time any beard that he might have.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 350)

Why did reading that send of Kill Bill sirens in my head? Because in the same scene in The Vampire Armand we get this instead. 

“He broke up handfuls of water to bathe me. He bathed first my face and then all of me. His hard satiny fingertips moved over my face.  ‘Not a vagrant hair yet of your beard, and yet you have the nether endowments of a man, and now must rise above the pleasures you have so loved.’” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 145)

It’s such a throwaway line but really hammers home the difference between the stories Armand and Marius are trying to present. With a few words Marius is able to present Amadeo as slightly older, slightly more mature. It still wouldn’t make Marius’ actions okay, but it might at least come across as a little less shocking if Amadeo was at least past puberty.

Pandora, Bianca, and Accountability

For this final part I’m gonna be looking less at comparisons between the two books, and more at some of the other parts of Blood and Gold which highlight the difference in the way Marius talks about Amadeo compared to his other relationships. 

First I want to point out a discrepancy between the books and more of a discrepancy within Blood and Gold itself because I think it works to illustrate the levels of dishonesty in Marius’ entire account of his time with Amadeo. As part of his description of the moments following Amadeo being turned, Marius says this. 

“And as he drank from me, I gave him my lessons, my secrets. I told him of the gifts that might one night come to him. I told him of my long ago love for Pandora. I told him of Zenobia, of Avicus, of Mael. I told him all but the final secret. That I kept from him.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 353)

Already this contradicts Armand’s account, because he doesn’t mention any of these characters or their stories when explaining the things Marius told him. But Marius then goes on to contradict himself later in the book when telling these things to Bianca. 

“I told her of the Druid grove again, and how I had been the god there and fled those who would have entrapped me, and I saw her eyes grow wide. I told her of Avicus and Zenobia, of our hunting in the city of Constantinople. I told her of how I cut Zenobia’s beautiful black hair.  And telling her these tales, I felt calmed and less sad and broken and able to do what I must do.  Never in all my time with Amadeo had I told such stories. Never with Pandora had it been so simple. But with this creature it seemed only natural to talk and to find consolation in it.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 431/432)

So we know Marius is lying, at least about some aspects. Lying to such an extent that not only is he contradicting Armand, he’s now contradicting himself in places.

And the thing is, there are many occasions within Blood and Gold where Marius lies, always for selfish reasons, but what’s interesting is Marius’ willingness to admit to this. 

“My soul was wondrously soothed by this event. I am only confessing now what it meant to me. For having lied to Bianca I lived with an unbearable guilt, and now, having given her this gift of the Mother’s blood I felt a huge measure of relief from it.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 496)

In general, Marius goes into far more depth about his relationships with Bianca and Pandora than he ever does with Amadeo. In fact, without the context of the previous books, it would be easy to miss the fact that his relationship with Amadeo was romantic at all. And while Amadeo has his character stripped back to almost the bare bones within Blood and Gold, the same doesn’t happen for Bianca or Pandora. We see the passion of their relationships, and, while it could be argued that Marius is still leaving out a substantial amount of violence that is only implied by the women' s reactions to him, he certainly doesn’t cut it out completely. 

We see incredibly heated arguments between Marius and Bianca throughout their relationship. 

“I glared at her. A madness took hold of me. I rose to my feet I looked about the shrine furiously.  ‘Gather up all you possess,’ I said suddenly. ‘I’m casting you out of here!’ She sat still as she had been before, gazing up at me in cold defiance.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 466)

From the minute Marius is reunited with Pandora we see how violent and possessive he becomes. 

“Quickly I crossed the dance floor and bowed before her. I lifted her cold white hand, and led her out and into the dance, and would take no resistance from her. ‘No, you’re mine, you’re mind, do you hear?’ I whispered. ‘Don’t pull away from me.’” (Blood and Gold, pg. 509)

The point being, Marius absolutely doesn’t attempt to paint his relationships with Bianca and Pandora as perfect, and his complete erasure of any violence or anger is something he does specifically with Amadeo. 

I think Marius definitely views Amadeo separately to the way he views Bianca and Pandora. The difference specifically between Amadeo and Pandora is easy enough to notice. After losing her, Marius spends almost the entirety of Blood and Gold trying to find Pandora, while he gives up on Amadeo almost immediately. Both Pandora and Bianca are treated as characters with agency, while Amadeo is spoken of as a piece of property. 

“I had little strength myself to comfort her, but I knew that she needed what little strength I had. It was hitting me again like so many violent blows that my world was dashed, that my house was ruined, that Amadeo was stolen from me.” [...] “But that was gone. All was gone. Amadeo was gone. My paintings were gone.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 424)

As I said before, a lot of the editing and omitting of Amadeo’s story could be down to the fact that he was a child (a human child) and couldn’t defend or fight for himself in the way that Bianca and Pandora could, but I don’t think we can ignore the way race and nationality plays into this either. 

Both Bianca and Pandora are Italian born, the same as Marius, while Amadeo came from Ukraine (Marius continues to refer to this as being in Russia in the present day, which, since I’m writing this essay from a totally Watsonian perspective, means he’s also an idiot). 

Marius has a lot of incredibly racist and xenophobic prejudices in general, specifically his outright hatred of “The East”, and it’s clear the negative views he has of Amadeo’s home country. 

“The following night I told him the story of his native city.  Kiev had once been magnificent, its cathedral built to rival Hagia Sophia in Constantinople from which its Christianity had come. Greek Christianity had shaped its beliefs and its art. And both had flourished beautifully there in a wondrous place. But centuries ago, the Mongols had sacked this grand city, massacred its population, destroying forever its power, leaving behind some accidental survivals, among them monks who kept to themselves.  What remained of Kiev? A miserable place along the banks of the Dnieper River where the cathedral still stood, and the monks still existed in the famous Monastery of the Caves.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 366/367)

“Always before this journey to Russia I had thought the split in Amadeo’s mind was between the rich and varied art of Venice and the strict and stylized art of old Russia.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 374)

Considering that, let’s also look at the difference in the way he describes them. 

This quote, from just after his most explosive row with Bianca:

“I went back to her. She was standing as I had left her, her face as solemn as before, her brilliant oval eyes fixed on me.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 467)

This quote, from his argument with Pandora:

“‘You dream,’ she said and the first coldness came into her face and into her voice. It was in her brown eyes, a coldness that comes from sorrow.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 510)

And then this quote, which isn’t from any argument or disagreement, just Marius describing Amadeo now that he can’t read his mind:

“Now I must read his facial expressions, his gestures, the depth of his secretive and faintly cruel brown eyes.” (Blood and Gold, pg. 354)

Even at their “worst” moments, Bianca and Pandora are described with far more grace than Amadeo gets during a totally neutral moment. Bianca is solemn, Pandora is cold yet sorrowful, but Amadeo is cruel. I definitely think that Amadeo’s race plays a part in Marius’ disregard for him compared to Bianca and Pandora, and likely also contributed to how quickly he gave up on Amadeo after he was taken by the Children of Darkness. 

Conclusion

We did it. Let’s hold hands. To wrap things up, I wanna say again that the fact of the matter is, a lot of this could be down to the author rather than the character. Maybe Anne Rice didn’t want to rewrite every detail from The Vampire Armand from Marius’ perspective. Maybe she forgot things, maybe she got the timelines muddled. 

The fact is, regardless of the reasons why, this is the story we ended up with. And to me at least, this story appears to be one of an abuser attempting to discredit the words of his victim. Marius uses every trick in the book to discredit what Armand wrote: omitting information, contradicting him, even bringing in other people to back up his version of the story, while still admitting to some of his less “severe” mistreatment of Bianca and Pandora in order to paint himself as a man who is able to reflect and take accountability for his actions. Yet, at the same time, this book also gives the impression that, above all else, Amadeo was never that important to him. Perhaps this is just another way to distance himself from Armand. 

And I can’t help but consider the in-universe implications of this. As it is, Armand still isn’t at a point where he recognises the things that happened to him as abuse. We get an inkling every now and then that he might be beginning to realise that Marius wasn’t purely the good and merciful saviour he believed him to be. Sometimes he does fear him, especially after losing Benji and Sybelle to him too. But I wonder how much reading this book could set him back again; how much all the contradictions would muddle the memories he already struggles to make sense of. And I wonder if, to an extent, that was Marius’ plan all along. 

All of this to say that after all of this I can’t help but come back to what, to me, is one of the most sinister quotes from the entire series. 

“‘And when you think back on this time, when in half-sleep at night you remember me as your eyes close on your pillow, these moments of ours will seem corrupt and most strange. They’ll seem like sorcery and the antics of the mad, and this warm place might become the lost chamber of dark secrets and this might bring you pain.’ ‘I won’t go.’ ‘Remember then that it was love,’ he said.” (The Vampire Armand, pg. 69)

[livingsurreal]

More thoughts and theories about our favorite Necromancer

My darlings, I have too many thoughts and my obsession is running wild. (How I missed you, hyperfocus). If you have read my last meta post about our Emmrich, here it is: First Meta Post

That is not a required read however. I am still wondering why anyone is reading my word vomit U_U

Anyway, I love reading other peoples theories, so please, send me yours. <3 And a lot of thanks and love for all you darlings who make this fandom such a beautiful and nice place. Especially to @jaal-ama-daravv - who makes the most beautiful videos, and writes such wonderful character studies.

Warning, from here on there will be spoilers as well as mentions of sex. If you don't want to read about any of that, do not read the rest.

Also pictures and way too many words. This is a ten page word document, save yourself while you can. I tend to go off on a tangent once I start writing. I am also well aware that not everyone will agree. This is just my personal read on Emmrich.

Now, after my first essay I have some more thoughts on Emmrich and Rook and specifically their intimate relationship.

Emmrich is such an interesting and baffling contradiction. On the one hand he is confident, self-assured, all manners and poise. He is smart, and he knows it. He has special gifts, and he knows it.  He is confident without being proud. He likes to teach others without being arrogant. He still likes to learn about new things and is, as far as I’ve seen, never judgmental about different beliefs and ways of life. (Unless someone treats him with disdain or bully him)

He is a man who is confident speaking of his thoughts and feelings and fears. How he just casually drops his thanatophobia is just astonishing. He is honest and open-minded in the best ways.

And then there is the other side of him. The wet kitten side of him. As open and honest as he is about his emotions, when we get to the meat of it, to the scary bit, the real feely bit, he locks up completely. As long as it is surface level (or he can pretend its surface level), everything is up for discussion. But once we reach deeper and touch *love* he gets so scared and refuses to admit and commit to his feelings. And as much *death* scares him, love scares him more.

So how does that influence his intimate relationship with Rook?

According to the banter with Lace “everyone knows about it”. He was rather surprised by that.

That tells us two things:

They were trying to be sneaky or at least keep their private business private.

They failed, massively.

Add to that Laces comment about them moving rather fast (when, where? I would have loved to have seen that. Comments like that just give me the feeling that we should have had some more cutscenes after the dinner date, to show us those two besotted fools).

But back to them moving rather fast. I would guess that they both did a lot of gazing lovingly at each other, blushing, spacing out while watching their darling, stollen kisses in the hallway when they thought no one was watching, stuff like that. Just being to besotted fools.

But moving fast usually includes sex. Lots of needy, sweaty sex. The inability to keep their hands of each other.

That moves us to the question of the day – did they have sex before their coffin time?

Let’s look at what we know about Emmrich. Emmrich is no virgin. That man has experience. He had past lovers. But what he tells us at that sweet diner date – “nothing serious for years.” We know not much else besides his crush on a boy in his youth and his fling with the Orlesian Art Lady. He is not someone to kiss and tell and that is appreciated. That man has class, and we love him for it.

So - nothing SERIOUS for years. If he hadn’t had ANY relationships in the past years, he would have said so. But what he says is that he did, in fact, have UNSERIOUS relationships in the last few years.

I would read that to be somewhere along the “fwb, lovers, affairs, paramours, companions, a fling, a little romance” line. Something not purely, but mainly physically driven. Someone you like and respect, you can go out and have a good time with, have lots of amazing sex with (b/c he is a living being and has his needs). Spending time with people he liked, was sexually attracted too, but nothing as serious as love. A physical relationship. A little thrill, some fluttering, but never that deep.

Not to say that those situationships would not have been romantic. He is (buried under all that resignation) a deeply romantic man. I am pretty sure he went on nice romantic dates with his previous paramours too. That this is something he just enjoys too much. Treating a companion with some quality time, not just in, but also out of the bedroom.

But after he’d given up on his dreams, he did not have any notion of those flings being more than a “enjoy the moment”. There was never the expectation of deeper feelings, beyond friendship, attraction and/or respect. All those romantic gestures were nothing more than a little bit of “play pretend”. To give himself the illusion of true romance, just for a little time.

Take the fact that you can go a “everything you do is creepy but I still flirt with you and I want you to throw me over that tombstone” and his comment on “the attraction of the forbidden”? This is not a relationship born of mutual respect and deeper feelings but out of purely physical attraction. And he is OK with that.

I want to repeat – Emmrich is very much okay with a casual, sexual affair. He does not require love to have a relationship with someone.

And then think about that Johanna calls Rook specifically his “paramour”. Which is a lover, especially an illicit one. This word was very specifically chosen by Johanna. For various reasons, I would think.

For one, I do believe that it is a dig at his dreams of the eternal flame. It’s a dig at him, that Rook is not his love, but his paramour. A lover for a time. To be parted from soon enough. B/c that silly dream of his, as if it ever would become reality.

Second, I think it is a comment on the way his relationships often went, especially in the past years. Those unserious flings of his. Never to amount to anything substantial.

Did he try to have something serious in the past? Oh yes, for sure. But it never worked out. Then he gave up his dream and just let himself have a good time with people he found to be nice and attractive.

To pick up my point of self-sabotage from my last meta post – I’ve come to a point where I believe Emmrich is a kind of chaser. I know someone like that and it’s so fucking tragic.

Emmrich feels deeply and strongly. When he falls in love with someone it’s a lot of emotion. But at that point it’s all dream, want, wish. As soon as someone returns these feelings - those dreams, wants and wishes become reality. And reality is scary. In this wishful dream about the eternal flame, there is no fear. No fights. No loss. But that is not reality. As soon as it becomes reality, he gets scared. Before, his feelings were no threat, because you can’t lose what you don’t have. Once those feelings are returned, there is a clear possibility of losing, of being lost, of being left behind.

Emmrich is not a chaser because he enjoys the hunt. He is a chaser because being loved by someone is scary. So damn scary. So, he starts to pick fights and is looking for excuses. From being the chaser, he becomes the chased. He is hunted by his fears, and his fight or flight instincts go all flight.

After years of this cycle he gives up. Resigns himself to flings and little romances without even thinking of more. Or so he thinks. Dreams like that don’t die, they just get buried.

And I’d think that there was not many, even of those short term flings, lately. His life revolves around work and Manfred.

Now remember he comments on Rook “showing unexpected interest in a new companion”.

First of all – unexpected.

They are a daring adventurer. He thinks of himself clearly as the more boring one, compared to Rook. He never expected any of those flirts. But he is clearly flattered.

Second – companion.

That was such a weird way of saying “hey do you like me?”. This whole “companion” thing does not scream “I have FEELZ for you/you have FEELZ for me” but rather, “I think you might want to spend some quality time with me”.

The possible answers - dashing good looks, kindness, his way of words.

He feels he is fortunate if Rook thinks him good looking. Hallo, Mr. Professor, sir… Have you looked in the mirror lately? Consider that he is meticulously grooming himself, takes his exercises daily in the morning. That man does not like himself aging. I think it is a reminder of how his pending death is a step closer every day. But it shows, to him, that his efforts of taking care of himself are not in vain. Or maybe it shows him that his age does not matter. Rook finds him attractive despite (or because) of his physical age.

Rooks comment on his very charming way of putting things makes him hope his years behind the lectern have proved useful. Hey *years* behind the lectern. Again, this is a way of saying his age is NOT a problem but a benefit.

If Rook remarks his kindness, he answers “you humble me”. It’s the one answer that does not touch his age/experience/looks. It’s a remark on an innate character trait he possesses. Kindness. His whole demeanor in this option shows he is actually touched. And maybe a bit baffled. He did not expect this, at all. Its like he sees his kindness not as an attractive trait. Which he should. He is nice without TM and its sexy as hell.

The next part is his statement “If your attentions go beyond charming flattery… that would interest me, indeed”. This reads to me not necessarily as “do you have feelings for me” but as “do you just enjoy the flirting, or do you want to do more than flirting?”

And oh boy, does he want to do more than flirting. I want to repeat my earlier statement – this man has given up on love. But some little fling with an exiting young adventure who was constantly, awkwardly flirting with him? Hell, yeah.

(I want to remind you that we were able to have mutually enjoyed flirts with Dorian as fem!Inky. You can flirt with someone and still never want to fuck them. And you are also perfectly able to want more than flirting without having deeper feelings. Like sweet, dump Shepaloo said it so eloquently “Lets bang, okay?”)

Again, I want to pick up a point of my last post, that this is all surface level thoughts. I do believe that their emotional attraction and depth of feelings go deeper, from the start. But how often does it take quite a bit of time to realize one’s own feelings. Especially this wonderful, silly man whose modus operandi is running away.

Now, an interested Rook can answer in an open “lets see where this goes” way. Mirroring his rather open idea of a little romance, a fling, some quality time. Something that does not have to end in an eternal flame, but a simple enjoyment and exploration of the moment.

Rook can also reply with a “I think they do.” – What Rook actually says is “I think they already…”

And conveniently Rooks answer here is cut short by our sweet boy Manfred. They get cut short, no matter what answer you choose, but in this specific case, I am convinced this was very much on purpose. What would the whole sentence have been?

“I think they already go way beyond flattery.” (?!?) Something along those lines. But that goes into danger zone. WAY into danger zone.

If Rook had finished that sentence, at that point in their budding romance? It would have been over before is all started. Too much, too soon. Too much for him, period.

Now we have the hard lock – their sweet romantic moment in the Memorial Gardens. And he is smitten. He fell hook, line, and sinker for his own play pretend. Just a little romance, but that man is falling, fast. (Not that he would admit that to himself).

A beautiful date, all arranged by Emmrich, to spend time with Rook. Because a couple should have a quite moment to get to know each other. I mean there were menu cards with gilded edges, ffs. And, oh yes, they were “lets dig into the feelings”, he said couple. He is falling, falling, falling fast. But it still hasn’t hit him, how deep he has fallen for his darling Rook. Poor Emmrich.

Then a fight, where we really see the wet kitten side of him for the first time. A little wet, feral kitten, hissing at the hand that’s trying to feed it.

Emmrich is lashing out for no good reason (or no good reason for anyone but himself). There is no real confidence there but a desperate act of pretending. An iron (slipping) grip, trying to control himself and the narrative. Shoulders squared, back straight, an arrogant stance, raised chin, turned half-away from Rook, and a condescending way of talking to Rook.

Like I said in my last post – he is working his way up to breaking up with them. And he tells himself it’s like ripping off a bandaid. Be strong and confident and say what you have to say, and they will see the wisdom of that.

It’s only that, they don’t. Because there IS NO wisdom in what he is doing right now. They don’t take his bullshit but throw it back at him. They don’t accept his mock excuses.

Look at him here, how he looks down ON them. I can’t recall any other time he looks down on Rook, despite him being a tall king.

Especially the route where Rook throws it in his face that he DOES in fact love them. Speak what he can’t even think.

“I can’t… At my…”

“I can’t love you. At my age…” Why not? Does he not deserve love, just because he is a bit older? It’s just heartbreaking how he views himself.

And again, he lashes out.

“I am perfectly serious.” So is Rook.

“One of us has to pay attention to these things.” As if Rook is not paying attention. They got to the meat and bones of his problem in just a few seconds.

No matter what route you go here, the gist is the same. He is scared shitless, treats Rook like a child, and goes on how the is the only one thinking the important thoughts.

When Rook in reality way ahead of him. They thought about it and came to the conclusion that being with Emmrich is a really good idea.

Rook knew they were falling for someone older than them. (Even if that age difference is just a decade, with a mid-40s Rook.) They knew it, and still went with it. They are not a child who is too inexperienced and stupid to make decisions about their (love) life.

But now, here, at this moment? Emmrich treats them with disdain. Like a silly little person, who does not think things through. He holds himself above them. Physically and mentally. They are too young, he knows better.

And not once has he done that before. He always treated them as an equal. He follows them into the most dangerous situations ffs. He trusts them with his life in a fight against would-be gods.

All that fear and anger at himself that reaches a new high get redirected at Rook.

The next day they are off to Tearstone Island. That night must have been hell. For both of them. But its going to get much much worse.

In any case, Emmrich seems to have come to some conclusion or realization, because on that island? He apologizes.

They both did react very emotionally, but he came at Rook with superiority and, to a certain degree, dishonesty. All fueled by his fear. So that he is the one to take the first step and apologize to Rook instead of doubling down? An important step. As I said in my last post – he NEEDED to be called out. A sweet and nice counterargument would not have had the impact Rooks raw an honest emotion hat on him.

Emmrich “Rook? Darling? I wanted to say-“

Rook “Yeah, about that argument…”

Emmrich “(Sighs) It’s no time to apologize, is it?”

And here we have the most heartbreaking line, in hindsight. “We’ll talk back home, Emmrich. I promise.”

(Narrator: but they would, in fact, not talk about it back home. Because someone would not go home.)

One fight and weeks of horror later, they find themselves in a private crypt and finally they do more than share a kiss.

Now - to the point I originally wanted to explore with this post – is this in fact their first time? (I am sorry, but my brain is a circle and nothing makes sense)

Let’s look at what evidence we have from the cut-scene.

Rook did not know he is an early riser.

That leaves two possibilities:

They never had sex up until that point.

They did have sex, but never spent the night together.

Now what does that mean?

This depends a lot on your personal Rook and how they feel about sex in general. If Rook wants to wait, or is not ready, he will absolutely accept and respect that.

But for the sake of this analysis lets go with the idea that Rook is not opposed to sex at an earlier date.

They never slept with each other

Why? He clearly was not opposed to casual relationships in the past. What would hold him back now? Especially if you recall Laces comment about them moving fast. Why not jump into the bedroom?

Now my first crack theory is that they get interrupted, like every time. (Rook interrupted The Dread Wolf, and now he cursed them to always be interrupted when they want to have some private time)

But now, in all seriousness, maybe it’s just that part of him DOES realize that this goes beyond a very unserious relationship. That they both have deeper feelings, that spark of something greater, something beautiful.

So, he holds back. He does not give his all. He is charming, he is flirty, he takes Rook on dates. But it’s all very technical. Very performative. Yes, he is a very romantic man, yes he enjoys those moments. But there is always a feeling of control.

Those moments when you see him let go a bit (that kiss beneath the eternal lovers, “I think, sometimes you indulge me”), are so beautiful and you glimpse a bit of the man behind those walls.

He has a tell, you see. (I am telling you about it further down)

But generally, he feels very much in control of himself. And to lie with Rook? To go all the way? Too dangerous. Who knows what happens in that sweet moment after la petit mort? What secrets would his lips spill?

2. They slept together, but did not spent the night together.

They do have sex, but sleep alone in their own beds. Casual sex is fine, but to fall asleep in each other’s arms? Too much. Too real. Sex okay, but sleepy post coitus cuddly? Woah, slow down your horses.

So, they have sex, preferably in Rooks bed. First, does he even have a bed? Second, it’s way easier to leave Rooks bed after the act, than throwing them out afterwards.

Oh, and how many reasons he has. Rook needs their uninterrupted sleep; they are stressed and must have proper rest. He wants to get some reading done before he retires. He needs to look after Manfred.

Oh, he is a bad liar, for sure. He is lying more to himself than to Rook. I would think that (if this is the build up to their fight) Rook realizes that he is giving poor excuses.

And the sex itself? A technical 10/10. He knows his anatomy, after all. But his heart is not really in it. He can’t allow himself to. He holds back, keeps a tight lid on his emotions. They both are well spent afterwards, but like so much else, it’s performative. Technically very well executed, but rarely do you see HIM, the real him, behind all that performance. Whenever something slips through, he reels back and closes up.

And then we are in that crypt. Rook was gone for weeks. The last thing they said that night before were words of anger. Rook called him out on his feelings and from that point on there was no possible way of lying to himself anymore. Those feelings were there. They were real. Rooks feelings were real. And those weeks spent in desperation, trying to  get them back? Those walls came crashing down.

His true face, when all the walls are gone? You see that face when Rook leads him to the coffin. There is no pretense anymore. No performance. Just him, and all his love for Rook. The amount of emotion the animation team packed into those short moments in the cutscene? Mindblowing. Who ever crafted that expression on his face? They are the GOAT. I watch this part of that scene on repeat, and it never gets old.

So, I told you about how he has a tell, yes? Okay, two actually, but we all know surprised pikachu Emmrich. In that last scene it is resolved in the most beautiful way.

He looks down, when something touches him deeply, when he goes into his feels.

A few (way to many) examples:

And the worst wet kitten look? After the fight, when Rook leaves.

Its a look of shame. Of hurt. This man is hurting so badly.

Now here at the end we have that moment when Rook leads him to the coffin. His face turns down, like before. But here he looks up at Rook. He does not turn his eyes away but looks directly at them. Ahhh my heart.

Now, think about the fact that ROOK is leading in that moment?

In those moments where Rook leads or startles him (or is simply annoying enough so that the truth slips out), you see the most emotion from him.

Rooks flirting startles him, and he has a pikachu face reaction every time.

Their first kiss? Rook leans against the monument, and leans up, telling him without words that NOW is the time for a kiss. How can he not go for a second kiss?

That moment when Rook calls Manfred “our son”? He very conveniently ignores the word “OUR” and goes in defense mode over the word “son”. But called out on his feelings for Manfred? How can he deny them? He has tears in his voice when he says how he would not exchange this moment for anything? A real, deep emotion.

In their fight Emmrich is again all technical, all performance, so logical (or what he sells himself as logic). But Rook wrestles that moment from him and takes lead, calls him out on his bullshit.

In the crypt Rook pulls him up into a kiss and then leads him to the coffin, guiding him, taking him with them.

Most of the other times he takes the lead, very much in control. But the most emotions you get from him, are those times Rooks leads, when he lets go of this tight control over himself, or he is startled in to a reaction. For all the age difference that is played up in their relationship, in the important moments Rook is the one who guides. And he follows where they lead.

Those little moans he makes? If they did have sex before, I bet he did not make those sounds then. Where they did have some incredible sex, now they are making love. Open, vulnerable. He gives in.

And then they fall asleep together. Skin to skin, arms and legs intertwined. Their hands caressing, no sound but that of their heartbeats and soft breaths. Pure and utter contentment. In that moment nothing exists but them. Can you imagine that moment he woke up? The amount of emotions he must have felt then? This need to speak those little words? Those huge little words. He does not say them, not yet. But he is almost ready.  

Finally, they stand there, on the battlefield of Elgar’nans madness. And he tells Rook. The last wall falls. Gives the most precious thing he can give to anyone.

“I love you.”

[dreaming-of-epiphanies]

Hihi! I just wanted to say I love ur works i adored Locked Out and I was wondering if u could do a req with Tom Riddle with a partner that matches his freak with any scenario? Thx soso much!

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓼 - part 1

Description: Tom is having some trouble getting his diary Horcrux to talk to him. Thankfully, he has someone who is just as conniving as him to help him out. (Tom Riddle x Reader, established relationship)

A/N: Ahh my first request! Thank you so much for your sweet words- I love knowing people enjoy what I write! I really hope this fic is what you were looking for! :) Also, I wasn't sure whether you wanted fluff or smut so I included just a lil suggestiveness but nothing too terrible (of course, if you wanted more of that I'd be happy to make another part...)

Warnings: some dark themes, suggestiveness

Update: Part 2 is posted!

If there was one thing Tom Riddle prided himself on, it was being unique. 

He was the top of the year, the only person who could speak Parseltongue out of the entire student body, and the heir of Salazar Slytherin himself. He figured that not many other people could link themselves to a Founder of Hogwarts, let alone title themselves an heir.

Apart from discovering nearly all of the secret passageways in the castle, he was the only student who had found the Room of Requirement, and was even able to access the Chamber of Secrets, a place no one knew existed for certain – except him. 

He was also the only person in the school, or maybe even in the Wizarding world, to pursue power and immortality in the way he had. No one else would have dared to split their soul to make one Horcrux, let alone as many as he planned to! 

So yes, Tom Riddle was unique. He was absolutely certain there was no one else that could match him, and he was comfortable with that. In fact, he was pleased with that. He did not want someone else to measure up to him- no one else could, he was sure of that. 

That was, until he met you. 

It had happened innocently enough. Professor Merrythought had brought up the possibility of writing an extra credit essay in class one day and Tom had jumped at the chance, while the rest of the class groaned and walked away. The essay was on the morality of wielding Dark Magic, so naturally Tom was fascinated. He had stepped forward to inform Merrythought of his intentions to complete it when he noticed he wasn’t alone. 

You were standing behind him, patiently waiting for him to finish speaking with the professor. As he left the room, he had paused, ever so slightly, to look back at you. He had never noticed you before. Almost as if you could feel a pair of eyes on you, you turned, meeting his gaze for a split second. Instead of looking threatened, as most did when he gave them that look, you appeared simply curious, if not unfazed. Ever the competitor, he looked away before you could, and stalked out of the classroom. 

He was not concerned at first. Why should he be? You were not even a blip on his radar. So you hadn’t seemed scared of him. Maybe you didn’t know who he was. If so, he would have to double his efforts for notoriety. Still, he kept himself mildly aware of you, making sure to at least be somewhat conscious of what you were doing and where you were. A few weeks passed with nothing else about you that intrigued him, so he let his focus switch to more pressing matters, such as continuing to grow his following and plan out his search for the remaining objects he intended to make into Horcruxes. 

But you caught his attention again when he spotted you at one of Slughorn’s parties. You were clearly a new member of the Slug Club, and Tom was astounded as to how there’d been an addition to the elite little group without him knowing. 

He’d tried to strike up conversation with you during a lull at the party in hopes that would clear up why you’d been invited to join Slughorn’s dinner group and how he hadn’t truly noticed you before. To his dismay and ever-growing curiosity, you still did not seem threatened by him.

This only piqued his interest. He kept an eye on you, waiting for the perfect moment to strike again until one day, he stumbled upon you reading a dark and dusty book with a familiar title- Secrets of the Darkest Art. 

And that was it. He was completely hooked. 

He found himself rapidly becoming obsessed with you and making up excuses to strike up conversation until one day you slammed your book shut, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “If you’re going to continue haunting me I suggest you find a way to make it more enjoyable for the both of us.” 

Tom was taken aback. No one had ever dared to talk to him in that way before. That was how he talked to people. He was so caught off guard he demanded the one question that had entered his mind as soon as you said that: “How did you know I was following you around?”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a long, almost admonishing look. “Please. How did you not know that I was doing the exact same?”

It did not take long for the two of you to fall into an easy rhythm. He told you of his plans for power, you told him of yours. You seemed eager to help him in his pursuit of making Horcruxes. It was like he had found his kindred spirit. 

(And perhaps something more, as your study sessions quickly morphed into sessions of a more… pleasing nature.)

He hadn’t expected to find someone so like him, but he wasn’t complaining. You were useful, and though he would never admit it out loud to anyone but you, his feelings ran much deeper.

༺ ✧ ༻

“You’re going to burn a hole through that if you keep staring at it much longer,” you drawled, feet kicked up on the windowsill and book in hand as you watched Tom glare at the diary on his desk.

“Maybe then I’d be getting somewhere,” he muttered, eyes still fixated on the small black book before him. 

“Are you still trying to figure out how to get it to talk to you?” You asked, sliding your bookmark between the pages as you got up and wandered over to where Tom was sitting stiffly, arms crossed and brow furrowed. 

“It is not talking, it is communicating, and yes, I am,” Tom corrected you. You rolled your eyes and lazily dropped your hands onto his shoulders, lightly massaging them. He relaxed under your touch, but only just. “It does not seem to be working, though.” 

“Have you tried asking nicely?” 

Tilting his head upwards, he gave you a sharp look. “I am not about to say please. It is a piece of my soul; it should behave like I want it to.”

You shrugged noncommittally. “Do you think it had something to do with the actual process? Like maybe you encased it in the diary wrong?”

“You know very well I did not do anything wrong. You spent months researching it with me.”

“Yeah, well, doesn’t seem like you did it right, either.” 

Now it was Tom’s turn to roll his eyes. “No. It just needs time, but it should hurry up,” he grumbled, tapping the back of his quill restlessly against the page. 

“What have you been writing on there anyways?” You asked, perching yourself on his desk. He scribbled something down and then held it up for you to see. 

I am Lord Voldemor. 

You made a face. “‘Lord Voldemor’?” You repeated distastefully. “I thought I told you ‘Lord Voldemort’ sounded better.”

“I like it without the ‘t’,” Tom said. 

“Maybe the diary likes my idea better.” You teased.

“It’s supposed to be pronounced with a silent ‘t’. No one is going to know that otherwise.” Tom protested, earning another eye roll from you.

“So I’ve heard. Anyways, the words just fade with no response?” You clarified. Tom nodded in agreement and then suddenly shut the diary with a snap and got to his feet. 

Harshly shoving the chair underneath the desk, he took a few steps back. “I can’t think about this anymore right now, or I will rip that diary to shreds,” he groaned, pressing the backs of his hands against his eyes. 

“Do you want to find someone to torture?” You asked kindly. “I heard some fourth years tried to kick Malfoy and Lestrange off of the common room couches.”

“No,” Tom said with his hands still up against his eyes. “I do not necessarily feel like disposing of a body right now.”

You shrugged. “Fair enough. How about you go to the library and check out the books about Dark Magic again? Try the one on soul essences. Maybe it’ll have some information on how to connect with soul fragments once they’re outside of the body,” you suggested, but Tom shook his head. 

“I have checked out those books far too much. I do not want to draw suspicion,” he told you, smoothing his hair back from where he’d mussed it up in his frustration. “You do it.”

“Oh please, like I’ve checked them out any less?” You crossed your arms, watching as Tom grabbed his cloak from where it was slung over his bed.

“I wish I hadn’t returned that damned copy of Infernum Anima. It disappeared right after I read it for the first time.” Tom griped as he stalked toward the door. “I can remember it detailing something about uncooperative Horcruxes- like what happens if the soul fragment doesn’t stick properly- but I can’t remember exactly what it said.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Tom was already halfway out the door.

“If you come up with any brilliant solutions, let me know,” he told you. “Otherwise, I’m going for a walk around the grounds to clear my head.” The door shut sharply and you were left in his empty dorm room. Tom stormed out a lot, what with his short temper. It did get quite annoying but you couldn’t really complain; you got mad just as easily.

Sighing in mild frustration, you sat down at his desk and picked up the diary in front of you. It was curiously warm, almost like you were touching his hand or arm. Of course, you supposed that was because it held a part of his soul. You’d read books upon books about Horcruxes to help Tom, and also just because it was fascinating. You didn’t necessarily plan to make any Horcruxes right now, if Tom’s success was any indication. The two of you had pored over books for months, and yet something seemed to still be missing. 

Turning the diary over in your hands, you flipped open to a random page and wrote down I am Lord Voldemort. 

Half expecting the diary to retort “no you aren’t”- it was a piece of Tom’s soul after all, and he was sarcastic all get out- you were disappointed when the ink faded away with no response. 

You drummed your fingers on the smooth leather of its cover. “What are you hiding?” You muttered, tracing some nonsensical doodles onto the page, only to watch them fade before the ink was even dry. 

༺ ✧ ༻

The rest of the week passed without any luck from the diary Horcrux. By the end of it, you’d had to restrain Tom from chucking it out the window at least twice and he’d had to talk you out of violently tearing its pages in a fit of impatient anger. On Saturday night, you and Tom were set to go to one of Slughorn’s dinner parties, and had decided a night away from trying to get the diary to talk- sorry, communicate- with you was for the best. 

An idea had also occurred to you, that you hadn’t exactly told Tom of yet. Earlier that week, Tom had mentioned Infernum Anima, one of the books that had introduced him to the topic of Horcruxes in the first place, and led him to talk to Slughorn. It had disappeared right after he’d asked Slughorn- something that struck you as suspicious. From what Tom had told you, Slughorn had been… well, less than excited to tell him about the subject.

You’d casually asked the librarian the other day if professors sometimes checked books out of the library, and if so, how you would go about asking them for it to read. The librarian had told you that yes, professors had been known to borrow certain books and that they often kept them among their personal items in the castle- the books were enchanted to prevent them from leaving the grounds- but that it would be quite easy to talk to whichever professor was in possession of the book you needed, and simply-

You’d drowned her out after that. Infernum Anima’s disappearance was conspicuous enough to assume Slughorn had checked out that book in the exact hope that it would not fall into Tom’s hands again. And since the books couldn’t leave the grounds, you’d decided it must be somewhere in Slughorn’s office. 

How convenient you were going there tonight!

“On a scale from one to I’d get sent to Azkaban for even bringing this up, how likely do you think it is that Slughorn would talk to me about Horcruxes again?” Tom muttered wryly as you approached Slughorn’s office, your hand on his arm. 

“You’d be imprisoned before dessert. Now, don’t worry about that. I have an idea,” you said as you knocked on the door. Tom looked curiously at you. 

“And what is this mysterious idea?” He prompted when you failed to explain yourself. 

“You’ll see,” you said simply, right before the door swung open and the merry sounds of Slughorn’s party greeted you. 

“You have a plan,” Tom murmured in your ear as he helped you out of your cloak, his eyes gleaming. “I should’ve known.”

You turned to face him as he took his cloak off as well, hanging it on the rack next to the door. “I’m surprised you don’t,” you retorted, and then had to stop talking about the subject because Slughorn had just spotted the two of you and was bustling over to gush about the candied pineapples Tom had sent to him. 

The party was enjoyable, but it wasn’t until it was nearing the end of the night did you find a moment to slip away. Slughorn was busy entertaining the group with another one of his impressive stories- highly fabricated, you were sure- when he suddenly ran out of scotch. 

“Oh dear!” He cried, holding up the empty decanter. “I could’ve sworn this was full just a moment ago!” 

Tom shot you a furtive look, which you resolutely ignored. 

“Don’t worry, Professor, I can fill that up for you!” You said cheerily, getting off of the plush footstool and walking over to him. Vanishing spells really did come in handy.

Slughorn smiled warmly at you as he handed you the decanter. “Why thank you! The scotch is just in that back room to the left of my desk,” he told you, and without another word you walked briskly off to where he had pointed, trying not to look like you were running. 

As soon as the door slid shut, you set the glass bottle down and scanned the walls of the room, looking for anywhere something might be hidden. There were lots more decanters and even some stray potion supplies, but nothing that looked too out of place. 

Of course, with Slughorn, that would be exactly his intent. 

You surveyed the room, taking note of the empty boxes of candied pineapples, a couple of suit jackets slung over the back of a chair, the piles of ungraded essays in the cabinet-

The essays. The cabinet. You rifled underneath them until you felt the strong and solid cover of a book. You quickly extracted it, and the black and gold cover of Infernum Anima shone in the dim light. It was a massive book, with gilded pages and a heavy trace of dark magic on it.

“There you are,” you murmured, before immediately casting a shrinking spell on it and popping it in your pocket. 

After you refilled the decanter and returned it to Slughorn, you told him you had to leave and after he cheerfully waved you off, you bent down to where Tom was sitting in a plush, emerald green armchair by the fire. To the group, it looked like you were simply telling him goodnight. 

“Meet me in the Room of Requirement in twenty,” you whispered covertly, before straightening up and walking straight to the exit, the shrunken book bouncing happily in your pocket. 

Tom arrived not fifteen minutes later. 

“What is it? What did you find?” He demanded as soon as the door swung shut behind him. You were perched proudly on a chair, hiding the book under your robe. Tom shrugged off his cloak and stalked over to you, raising an eyebrow when you didn’t say anything. 

“Are you going to make me beg for it?” He asked warily, looking reluctant but just desperate enough to make you believe he’d do it. 

“As tempting as that is and knowing how much I like to see you on your knees, no. But I do have one condition before I tell you what I found.” You quipped, your smile growing wider at his exasperated eye roll. 

“And what is that?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“Lord Voldermort.”

There was a short, disapproving silence before he sighed dramatically. “Fine. Now hurry up before I curse those clothes off of you and make you show me what it is.”

“What a flirt!” You teased, but pulled back your robe to reveal the book. Tom’s eyes widened and he immediately lunged for it, snatching it up and examining it like he didn’t believe it to be real. 

“Where did you find this?!”

“Slughorn had stolen it!” You said happily, hopping off the chair and going to stand next to him. “I found it in his back room when I went to fill up the scotch decanter.” 

Tom glanced over at you proudly. “I knew you were up to something.”

You shrugged. “Of course I was. You think I’d willingly go to a Slug Club party without there being something in it for me? Or for us?” You corrected yourself.

“We really are so similar,” he mused, still admiring the book. 

You let him trace the cover almost lovingly for another moment before tugging on it. “Read it already! And summon the diary.” 

Tom spent the next couple of minutes looking for the information he needed while you waited. It didn’t take long for him to find the page, summon the diary, and start scribbling in it. 

I am Lord Voldemort. 

You both held your breath as the words glistened, then began to fade on the page. 

Hello, Lord Voldemort. It appears this worked. 

Tom couldn’t help his satisfied hum as he looked up at you. “It worked,” he repeated, echoing the diary. 

“It did,” you grinned back, ruffling his hair in the way you knew he hated but still let you do. “You can now talk to a piece of your soul.”

Tom and the diary version of him wrote back and forth for a couple minutes before he shut it and slid it into his pocket, looking incredibly pleased. 

“What did the book say to do?” You asked, unable to restrain your curiosity. 

“Now, I’m not going to reveal all my secrets,” he said warningly, though he sounded more teasing than anything. You raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest as he slid his arms around your waist. “Besides, I have a much more enjoyable way to celebrate.” He lowered his mouth to yours in a kiss that quickly turned heated, resulting in him having you pressed up against the door. 

“Tom,” you panted out through an onslaught of fiery, open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

“Hm?” He murmured, his lips never leaving your skin. 

“It’s better as Voldemort, isn’t it?”

He paused for only a split second, before resuming. He didn’t answer until he had you choking out his name and seeing stars form at the edge of your vision. Only then did he whisper, so quiet you almost missed it, “Yes.” 

Requested by: @chamolore (thank you!)

Inspo/credit: I feel like I should tag @viperify and @sunder-soul for both of their amazing characterizations of Tom- you both inspire how I write him and I'm so grateful for your writing! I love each and every one of your posts.

Taglist: @viperify

Comment to be added to taglist should you want! :)

UPDATE (6:19am UTC June 13th, 2025): Part 2 is here!

[burningcheese-merchant]

ANSWER THIS AND YOU GET A FUNNY BURNING CHEESE COMIC

Hear me out

The ancients giving themselves up to the beasts as sacrifices if they agreed to leave earthbread alone and never wreck terror or show their faces again

I'd say everyone besides Flour would go:

Say less Babygirl*hops into a pumpkin carriage and rides off into the sunset*

Maybe Salt would need a lot of convincing because... Holy shit it could be this easy, Milk you seeing this, quick Spice snap a photo this is a moment in history

Flour is just in massive denial but would find a way to agree to mke it seem like it isn't about love or anything

Unknown3doors, don't tempt me like that 👀 don't tempt me like that, unknown3doors 👀 you're playing with fire, unknown3doors 👀🔥

Pure Vanilla surrendering to Shadow Milk would be the happiest day of Shadow's life. He makes Vanilla repeat himself multiple times, makes him announce it through a megaphone, they do a radio broadcast, Shadow makes a TV special out of it, Shadow writes poems and essays gloating and taunting... And then he eventually agrees to Vanilla's terms (although, he DOES try to haggle for permission to continue annoying people). Pure Vanilla is HIS!!! HE'S FINALLY HIS!!! FOREVER AND EVER!!!!!!! (And the Soul Jam, technically. But WHATEVER!!! HIS SILLY VANILLY!!!). Now Vanilla must endure having to spend EVERY SINGLE MINUTE of his life within 10 feet of Shadow AT ALL TIMES, or else the deal is off and Shadow will commit genocide in retaliation. Why the long face, though? You agreed to this! You knew this would happen! Maybe if Vanilla behaves well enough, like a good little doll, Shadow will allow himself to be HIS doll for a time. Tit for tat. It's only fair. They can be each other's playmate for eternity now...

Eternal Sugar would be 100% awake for the first time in forever if Hollyberry offered herself to her - in exchange for anything at all, it never had to have been for keeping innocents safe. Typical of Holly, in her estimate; she's not necessarily surprised by this. Maybe she'll feign a bit of surprise just because, maybe she'll tease Holly about it... But all in all, she's quite pleased. Now she can keep those pesky subjects of Holly's away from her much easier (as well as her friends... Including that ridiculous dragon...). Holly will learn to see things her way eventually. Appreciate the little things. Like a nice, long nap in a warm bed, in the arms of a loved one... Pleasant, sugary sweet dreams that are too comforting to wake up from... No one ever bothering them about anything ever again. Free from their responsibilities, free from the burden of the shield and the crown. Just the two of them in their own little world, pursuing their own happiness. Won't that be nice?

Mystic Flour would struggle to even entertain Dark Cacao's presence, never mind his... proposal (oh gods, not that word). She would refuse, and refuse, and refuse again. But Cacao does not give up, stubborn fool that he is. Curse his Light of Resolution... Eventually, in lieu of plainly refusing, she tries to appeal to reason. What about his kingdom? His people? What would they say, think, do? Will he leave them behind just to keep her pacified? What about his friends? His son? Who will rule in his absence? Unfortunately, Cacao has an answer for every single one of her questions... and, with an even greater undertone of misfortune... she likes them. That part of her that likes HIM also likes this. That he always has an answer for everything she says. That he won't bend the knee to her, no matter what. His self-sacrificing nature, bordering on martyrdom... just like hers once was. In truth, every word out of her mouth is only serving to delay her inevitable acceptance of his offer. A feeble attempt at shooing him away, one final shot at denying her feelings towards him, for having him around her constantly would be too much to bear, and she might... She... She'll break. She knows she will. And she can't have it. She won't stand for it.

... Dark Cacao, stubborn, handsome, selfless fool that he is. He has undone everything she ever worked for. Her apathy meant nothing the moment they locked eyes. It means nothing now, as they go back and forth about this foolish deal of his. And it won't mean anything when she eventually says yes.

(But she'll try to pretend otherwise, for as long as she can. Neither of them could handle the truth...)

Golden Cheese: Burning Spice, if you leave everyone else alone, I'll give myself to-

Burning Spice: DEAL!!!!!!!!! *pounces on her before she can actually finish or explain herself any further... What he does next, I'll let you imagine/decide 😉*

Silent Salt... wouldn't even believe it at first. He'd be astounded. Dumbfounded, really, that White Lily would say such a thing... Is this really her? Is someone forcing her to do this? What is the catch? Enough reassurance from her would convince him that she's being real and sincere and every other word that can be used to describe her deal, and... he accepts it. No other ifs, ands or buts. His White Lily... now, she really IS his White Lily. Forever and ever... He doesn't mind having to keep away from society; that's hardly a punishment. It costs him nothing. And if his White Lily is there with him, he won't even notice the difference...

[cecilysass]

Sexualizing Scully (in Never Again and the whole series)

I’ve been thinking about CC changing the original Never Again script because he was worried about sexualizing Scully, and I’ve been trying to get inside his head on this issue. Ready for a long essay no one asked for? Okay.

CC’s decision to eliminate the sex scene from Never Again reveals a pretty absolute mindset from him at the time — hanky panky for Scully takes her into a titillating area, which is not okay, because the show doesn’t sexualize Scully. According to ep co-writer Glen Morgan, CC said “every other woman on television was jumping into bed, and they had worked very hard to differentiate Scully from other female television characters.” So button up, Dana.

I admit that like many others (including possibly GA), I have always been frustrated by this particular kind of “we don’t want to sexualize Scully” logic from CC, because it really seems to be confusing sexually objectifying a female character with depicting her acting from sexual motivations which is really only confusing if you’re a straight cis man who is used to thinking any combination of women and sex as somehow being about men’s tastes. In other words, it doesn’t seem problematic to show Scully acting sexually if you’re thinking of a female character as a subject and not as an object.

CC is often credited as being a pioneer in his commitment not to sexualize Scully. Everyone (CC, 1013, media, fans) frequently claims the decision not to emphasize Scully’s sex appeal was rare for TV at the time. This is kind of true, if maybe a little overstated.

By the time Never Again aired, in 1997, primetime TV also had Captain Janeway, Buffy Summers, Murphy Brown, Elaine Benes, Anita Van Buren. These are not “de-sexualized” characters necessarily, but also not at all accurately described as oversexualized stereotypes. Some of those characters predated Scully.  It was a less common choice to deemphasize a female character’s sex appeal on TV, but it’s also not really fair to say it was all Baywatch babe caricatures all the time. I think we can say this was something that was actively changing in the 1990s that would continue to evolve in the next decades. I do think it’s worth observing that some writers of the time had figured out how to write complicated female characters … who also sometimes had sex.

One quibble I have with the “1013 was special because they didn’t sexualize Scully” claim is that … they did sexualize Scully. All the time? No. But sometimes? Absolutely. 

Some of this I just don’t really think is debatable. If this had been a series starring DD and Nicholas Lea, would Krycek nervously take off his clothes in the pilot to show Mulder his bug bites? Well, of course we would have written outstanding horny fic about it if he had, but come on: NO WAY. (Because 1993, heteronormativity, etc.) As it was, they knew they were sexualizing the female lead a little and exploiting both leads’ sexual chemistry as a tease to get audiences interested in their pilot. Come on. They knew. This isn’t rocket science. They had a little show on Fox, and they were trying to get people to watch. 

(There was an interview years ago when GA said something to this effect, too. Something like: the bumps could have been anywhere on my body, but they had to be a place I had to take off my clothes.)

As many have pointed out over the years, Scully was also semi-regularly a focus of male sexual fantasy. Sometimes this was pathological and violent (see: Donnie Pfaster, twice). Other times, this was benign and played for gentle laughs (see: Frohike, Pendrell). Sometimes, the fantasy was quite vividly enacted on screen (see: Philip Padgett, Guy Mann). Please note that I’m not saying this should or shouldn’t have happened, only that it did. 

That said, I think Carter did take pains to avoid sexualizing Scully as an overall principle, and I think this was effective. He emphasized her intellect and her professional motives. We love Scully for this. It’s part of what makes the character who she is. Credit where credit is due.

Unfortunately, he did seem to believe that Scully being seen as a serious character meant not having sex at all. I don’t want to erase asexuality, and I sometimes hear people saying they recognize that in Scully. If this works as representation for people, it’s positive. But for me, I just don’t see Scully written as ace. I think she was being written, by men, as embodying an old trope about women not having sex or being too overtly sexy to be seen as trustworthy or taken seriously (see: Madonna-whore complex).

Now mind you, Mulder’s sexuality was a problem for the show, too. For sure. As with Scully, they wanted him devoted to the quest / platonic partnership only, which means he couldn’t really have an outside romance as a competing motivation for him.  I’d argue this did eventually paint the writers into a MSR corner, because both characters’ energy and emotions were really only focused towards one another as an extension of their quest. But they did let Mulder have porn, lots of suggestive talk, sexually aggressive exes (see: Phoebe, Diana), several ambiguous possible sexual encounters (see: Marita, Diana), and one unambiguous one night stand (see: Kristen). 

Scully does eventually get an ex who directly comes on to her—and notice who gave him to her. She also gets a vibrator in canon—also a female writer—but that takes decades, people, decades. Mulder’s been carrying on with that porn forever by that point.

I think this relates to my cynical idea that Carter’s insistence on avoiding sexualizing Scully is really about his protection of Mulder as his hero / protagonist, not Scully herself. More on that later.

One of my least favorite pieces of “Chris Carter deemphasized Scully’s sexuality” evidence is Ye Olde Story About The Busty Baywatch Network Scully. If you look at any number of interviews with Carter dating back to, say, 1994-1998, he often tells the same story about the network wanting to hire a leggy busty actress to play Scully and him insisting on Plain Jane Gillian Anderson instead. Often Pamela Anderson, the lead actress of Baywatch, is specifically mentioned in the story, or sometimes it’s just a “Baywatch type” actress. 

The repetition of this story is kind of gross, for two big reasons. Reason #1 is that it frames Carter as a hero for ... what? Rejecting the network’s toxic beauty standards to hire absolutely stunning GA, who, yes, is short, but isn’t exactly a radical rethinking of what’s attractive? I understand that Gillian Anderson isn’t “a Baywatch type,” but it’s not like she wasn’t a woman considered sexually appealing by MANY people. Including, incidentally, Chris Carter, who outright admitted Scully was his type. 

It is absolutely good we got GA. No one questions that. But in my opinion Carter got way too many kudos for choosing this supposedly non-sexy actress for Scully. Because honestly. “non-sexy GA” can’t even be said with a straight face. Even DD eventually started saying in 1996 that this story was weird and overdone, although he said it in a kind of an awful way: “That’s overblown. You look at Gillian, and she’s a beautiful woman. And how often do you see Scully in a bathing suit? Gillian’s not 6 feet tall and doesn’t have what’s-her-face’s tits, but she’s got as nice a face as any of them.”

Reason #2 is that Carter’s story seems to remind GA at every turn in those early years that she wasn’t hot enough for success if it weren’t for him insisting on her. This has an especially icky residue given her struggles over body image and equitable salary. (If you don’t think it had the potential to have that effect, just take a gander at DD’s quote when he was probably sincerely trying to be supportive above, and try to get into the toxic 1990s mindset of how people talked about women’s bodies.) 

Finally, one more complication regarding the sexualization of Scully: jealousy. I’d argue the jealousy trope was a kind of sexualization. The show has no issue with jealousy for vaguely sexual / romantic motives coming from Scully, even though the “hot women jealously bickering over the male hero” is a trope that seems pretty clearly derived from straight male sexual fantasies, too. Scully shows jealousy of female rivals for Mulder’s respect or trust early and often. Again, not saying this should or shouldn’t have happened: only that it did. (Actually, if you know me or my fanfic, you know I’m pretty down for some jealousy stories lol.)

In earlier seasons, Scully’s jealousy is played for laughs and is more ambiguously motivated, mixed up with professional jealousy. For example, she’s threatened by Bambi Berenbaum not only because she’s a hot woman who has Mulder’s attention, but also because she’s a competing scientist.  By the Diana arc, Scully’s jealousy is tightly tied to plot and is angst-ridden. It’s also much harder to explain, at least in late season 5’s The End, without romantic jealousy as some sort of driving motive. We can say in One Son there is a professional explanation—she thinks Diana is dirty and Mulder is being disrespectful of his partner—but why on earth is Scully sitting heartbroken in that car in The End if not for personal reasons?

And then there’s this, some cut dialogue from Sixth Extinction that has Scully and Diana arguing over Mulder. Here both characters are written managing to reference one another’s physical appearance in a way that has absolutely no relevance to their ostensibly professional conversation.

There’s no universe in which you can convince me this is in character for Scully (or for Diana really), and it frankly shows objectification of both female characters. But this dialogue was cut, so maybe someone felt similarly at 1013. 

Mulder is not shown as being jealous in the same obvious, overt way, and I don’t think Carter would have let that happen. This is where I start to suspect that the whole “Scully isn’t sexualized” claim of Carter’s is actually more about his protection of Mulder’s character than Scully’s. 

Carter didn’t want to sexualize Scully because he didn’t want Mulder to be seen as the kind of male character who would seriously be distracted by lust for his co-worker and partner beyond easy, low-commitment jokes. He wanted Mulder to be seen as pure of heart (porn aside) and entirely devoted to his quest. He wanted him to have a partner he wouldn’t be thinking dirty thoughts about, especially because 1013’s writers often seem to have a worldview in which desire and respect can’t coexist. And he wanted Scully to be uncomplicatedly devoted to supporting him.

So Scully is jealous of female attention of Mulder because it’s consistent with her devotion to the work, and Mulder is equivalent to their work. But Mulder’s not going to be shown spinning too much about male attention to Scully because he’s gotta stay single-mindedly devoted to the quest. (Until it is a threat specifically to his work, as when it’s Doggett replacing him on multiple levels.) 

Of course, by creating characters who only are interested in this mutual quest and in supporting one another— and then by casting constantly-handsy Duchovny and longing-eyed Anderson and presumably directing them to keep all that shit under control all the time — CC definitely created the perfect hothouse conditions for MSR. Apparently directors were telling them to dial back their performances of scenes all the time. And honestly, that feeling of constant restraint reads in the final cut. Even when they are just sitting there talking about a corpse they always look like they are holding back and buttoning in all these feelings. It’s constantly sexually charged. Desire and respect appear to be sharing space all the time. It’s a textbook case of getting the opposite of what you’re ostensibly trying to do.

I know I’ve touched on some hot button issues here. I welcome discussion if you’re so inclined.

[nullicaput]

skinner and the rat. XII

Pairing: Han Su-Gang x Reader

Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Obsession, Teacher-Student Relationship, Power Imbalance, Reverse Power Imbalance, Age Difference, Dark, Su-gang being deranged as hell

Summary: Familiar faces and familiar violence—you thought after almost ten years, the kid you left would never remember you, but you were wrong.

Word count: 1908

previous chapter.

Today marked the last day of the first quarter, and today was midterms. 

In Moo Young High, every class of the each year level takes the same subject simultaneously to reduce the risk of passing information about the scope with the other class, and right now was the time of your subject.

Scrapped answer sheets pile after one another. The smell of ink floated in the air. The rooms were silent, except when the students flip through their test booklets. Some of them have given up with answering, but a lot of the examination takers were risking their all to guess the right answer for enumeration and identification portions. With the pointing system of three points for each correct answers, one point for mistakes, and deduction of one point for every item that was left blank, it was obvious that guessing is their best technique. However, even if they were to guess all of the items, if they all get them wrong, they would still not pass. 

"Pass the first part of the exam," the homeroom teacher announced.

As the students relayed their test booklets and answer sheets slipped inside, dread has enveloped their young brains.

"She didn't use the usual Ethics exam, didn't she?" a student whispered. 

"Yeah. This was all hers."

"Quiet down," their teacher said. "Bring out your notes. The second part of your exam is essay-making." 

With that, their souls just died the second time.

No matter how many times they searched for the answers, nothing in their notes gave them something that could help. Time ticked by, and the second part was done. They did not know whether to be dejected that they did not finish their exams properly, or just be glad it was finally over. 

"I thought I'd die," a student grumbled. "It was so hard."

Inside the teachers' lounge, your colleagues laughed as they put their things in their bags, preparing to leave. The students have went home already, and only the staff were at school at this time. 

"My class was complaining that was your test was so difficult," the History teacher joked. 

"Mine, too."

"You're a beast, Teacher [Name]," the Mathematics teacher said, shooting you a look of mischief.

You smiled at their teasing, but you kept yourself quiet. Just when you were about to leave to get to the vending machine located at the ground floor of this building, you were stopped by Jae-Kyeong. 

"Ah, by the way. About Su-Gang's grades."

Her voice was as soft as it usually was, but it somehow made the other teachers shut their mouths. 

"What about it?" 

You glanced at your coworkers, and you could see the discomfort in their body language.

"Don't give him failing grades, and you'll be safe from his mother's anger," she advised. 

"Mother?" you asked, even though you knew who she is. "Su-Gang's mom?" 

"Yeah, the dragon," someone added. "You're allowed to fail his friends, but not him."

Ah, so they were not included in his immunity.

How funny.

"I know how terrible you must've been feeling ever since you've been his target, but if she were to know that her baby failed...well," the first-eyar English teacher said. 

They were obviously ignorant of the mother-son dynamics of the pair. They did not know that it was him who controls his mother, and not the other way around.

Still, it was better not to make her aware of you. 

"Understood."

After that, they returned to their chatter. 

Not wanting to walk farther, you used the metal staircase at the right side of the building instead of the concrete one, which was located at the left. Just before you were about to reach the ground floor, you heard a fizzy sound, and—

You felt something extremely cold coming from the top of your head. 

A series of childish cheering erupted over you, and you would be an idiot if you have not figure the sorry-excuse-for-students who did this to you. You currently smelled of grape soda, and if things are not bad to begin with, it was the brand of drink that notoriously attracts fruit flies. This was this tenth attempt, and it seemed that they are running out of already uncreative ideas. 

As the artificially flavored sweet drink dripped from your hair, you stood there motionlessly. You found yourself in a situation you have grown too accustomed to. The only difference was it was you who was being targeted and not the one watching anymore.

"Teach! You're drenched!

"Why did you stand in the way?"

"Look at you, Miss Temp."

"Ew, sticky!"

"Are you gonna cry?"

You tilted your head to stare at their leader, who was likely there with them again—and he was.

He was staring you down, with his face full of that sadistic thirst to do bad things to those who have not done anything objectively wrong to him. He bit his lower lip and glanced side to side. He was telling you something that he could not be bothered to let them know. 

Oh. 

So, that was how it is.

You can do something about them. You can give them corporal punishment, you can shame them publicly, you can sabotage them—you can even fuck their grades up if you so desire—but they could never attack you or pick on you without Su-Gang's approval. Their mindless puppets constantly moving to follow his words, and yet, they are not even considered your—a temporary teacher—level that they could hurt you as they please. 

In a way, you pity them. 

"Hey, you five, piss off," Su-Gang commanded them, which they did obediently.

They left without any word, but you knew they were interested as to why he never bullied you with them. It was not just them who have picked that up. 

You have noticed yourself that whenever Su-Gang was terrorizing you, he never let his group come with him for long. 

No cameras in sight, not even a voice recorder. 

It was as if the thought of letting someone else see your irritated expression—and the mere thought itself of sharing you—was a taboo. Perhaps he thinks that what he has with you was sacred that he never wanted anyone to be involved. Perhaps this was the reason why he has yet to tell his mother about you despite you having been teaching here for more than two whole months now. 

Well, even when he was a child, he has always disliked—despised—sharing. You knew that very well, but you simply never thought that the sentiment would extend to his mother. 

"Where's your boyfriend?" he jeered. "No hero to save you now?" 

He descended from the stairs and stalked closer. With an unhurried pace, he become nearer and nearer, his face never absent of that derision. 

"Here, have this."

When you checked the name of the bag, you figured that what he was offering you was a change of clothes.

"I don't take bribes," you replied. 

"Bribes?" he scoffed. "These rags are not bribes, teach."

He wiped the soda that trickled onto your face with his thumb and licked it. 

"If I really wanna bribe you, I'd give you bags, shoes, a room in my house." He grinned. "So, these are not bribes, 'kay? But again, can't expect a beggar to distinguish the two." 

If ignoring him does not make him bend to your will, then you would use something else to hurt his substanceless ego. 

"This is getting old," you complained. 

"Huh? What'd ya say?" 

"I said, this is getting old." You pinched the bridge of your nose and shook your head. "Was I the only one to notice? Was your brain so simple that you're easily entertained by useless mental stimulation like this?"

He was shocked to hear you talk like that. 

In the past, you have never been the type to harshly reprimand him with words, so it never occurred to him that you were actually capable of insulting him. 

You held yourself back from chuckling, but no amount of pursing your lips could ever hide the way your lips shook in amusement. 

"There is something—no, one specific thing—that you want from me but can't have," you said. 

It was your attention, if not you wholly. 

He was a child who has never been told no growing up, and he has grown to a young adult who never had anything he could never get. Being a kid, his tantrums gave him all the things he desired, and in the present, his violence still grant him everything. A child raised to almost be viewed and treated like a porcelain doll, if not a god, would believe that his words were absolute and can never be opposed, yet there you were, existing for yourself and no longer for him. 

It irked him to no end; you were sure of it.

"This is why you're acting this way, no?" 

"What kinda bullshit are you up to now?" he shouted. 

"You keep misbehaving as if you're a little kid, but you expect to be rewarded for it." You mimicked the way he smile and speak whenever he taunted you verbally. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Children who were sent to school without being properly disciplined by their own parents became a problem later on. The teachers have no other choice but to accept their misconduct, because any kind of punishment can be deemed as inappropriate by the same parents who leave the parenting to educators instead of doing their part—their responsibility. 

However, Su-Gang was no normal child, was he? 

He said it himself: He was an adult. 

Adults should never be pampered. If they could not understand directions, drill the information into their brain using the language they were well used to.

"Your unpleasant attitude won't get you anywhere, Su-Gang." You chuckled, your words borderline mocking. "Why is it not clicking? Were the nine years of my absence really managed to turn you into this much of a moron?"

There, you admitted that his tutor was you. 

That, however, was not the part that caught his attention. 

"Moron? Me?"

Without letting you say the one word starting with the letter y and ends with s, he grabbed you by the collar—predictable—and dragged you within skin-to-skin proximity. He exhaled shakily, causing your nose to smell that faint fragrance of vape. You let out a laughter too entertained he almost mistook you for someone else—or, maybe this was who you truly were. 

"You shouldn't touch rags, Su-Gang," you cooed. "You'll be tainted."

For the first time, you touched his hands on purpose. Your action was full intent of riling him up more. You used your fingers to pry his own from gripping the collar of your drink-soaked blouse.

"You want me to teach you a lesson?"

"Lesson? What are you going to do? Fire me? Push me down the stairs? Shove cigarettes into my mouth?" Your smile widened, mirroring his prior expression. "Stab me with a fork?"

Back then, he listened to only you, and even his mother was unable to put him in his place. As you grew older with him, you learned the words to keep him motivated and the ones to keep him in check. A child who used to live for your validation—you wondered how he would react the moment you verbally express your displeasure at his actions. 

"You disappoint me," you remarked, that grin leaving your face. "Little Su-Gang."

next chapter.

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