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writingfics-passingtime · 1 month ago

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hi, can you please write about the reader overthinking decorating a pumpkin and loki threatens to tickle them if they don't start it 🤗🤗

I can still post pumpkin content cause it's still November, right?

Here's a sassy, stoic reader, an absolute teasing menace Loki, and a tender, emotional ending (because I can't help myself).

word count: ~4300

pairing: Loki x female reader

content / warnings: sexual tension, suggestive banter, flirting and touching, tickling, swearing

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a suggestive relationship between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

note: thank you anon ~ I wasn't going to respond yet because my prompts aren't open, but I've seen a few other writers receive and fulfil this ask, and I've liked seeing what other have done with it. My imagination went a little wild. Thanks for your message x

If anyone has an idea for a title, help a girl out

The room was alive with voices, clinking bottles, and the occasional scrape of a knife against pumpkin flesh. The compound’s main dining hall had been transformed into an unlikely tableau of domesticity. Avengers, gods, and spies bent over their assigned gourds with varying levels of skill and enthusiasm. Stark’s pumpkin already looked like a disaster of glitter and questionable wiring, while Natasha’s had been carved into a clean, menacing grin, a masterpiece of precision.

And then there was you.

Your pumpkin sat pristine and untouched in front of you, its smooth surface mocking your indecision. Brushes, carving tools, and paints were scattered around your space, all conspicuously unused. You held a small knife in your hand, twirling it absently as you stared at the blank canvas.

“Do mortals often find themselves defeated by vegetables, or is this particular weakness unique to you?”

Loki's voice slid over you like velvet, dark and rich, tinged with mockery.

You didn’t look up. “It’s a fruit, actually.”

“Ah,” he drawled, moving closer. “Semantics. How very like you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lean against the edge of the table, his long, lean frame clothed in casual, dark fabrics that clung just enough to remind you that he wasn’t of your world. His sharp blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he surveyed your untouched pumpkin.

“You’ve been staring at it for nearly an hour,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Surely even you can’t find this much to overthink.”

You exhaled sharply, finally meeting his gaze. “Maybe I’m waiting for inspiration.”

“Or perhaps you’re simply afraid to begin.” His lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk, the kind that made your pulse stumble. “One wrong cut, one poorly chosen stroke, and the whole thing could be ruined. What a tragic metaphor for your careful, overthought life.”

“Thanks for the analysis, Freud,” you said dryly, turning your attention back to the pumpkin. “Now, if you’re done, I have work to do.”

“Work?” His laugh was quiet, mocking. He moved closer, the faint rustle of his clothing brushing against your senses like a whisper. “Sitting frozen with indecision isn’t work, darling. It’s fear.”

You bristled but kept your voice calm. “If you’re so invested in this pumpkin, why don’t you decorate it yourself?”

“Because I find your quandary far more entertaining.”

He stepped around behind you then, his tall frame casting a shadow over your seat. His presence loomed, a magnetic pull you both resented and couldn’t entirely resist.

“I’ll give you a choice,” he said softly, his voice close now, the faintest trace of his breath against your ear. “Either you begin decorating this ridiculous fruit, or I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

You turned slightly, meeting his eyes over your shoulder. They gleamed with dark amusement, his smirk widening as he caught the way your lips parted involuntarily. “Oh? And how exactly would you do that?”

Loki’s smirk deepened, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. “I could start with this.”

Before you could react, his fingers brushed against your sides, featherlight but enough to send a jolt through you. You stiffened, gripping the edge of the table as his touch lingered, just shy of maddening.

You twisted in your chair to glare at him. “That’s your plan? Tickle me into submission? How original.”

His chuckle was low, dark, a sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “Oh, I think it would be quite effective. And besides,” he murmured, leaning closer, “I suspect you’d secretly enjoy it.”

Your breath caught at the sheer audacity of him, the way his voice dipped into something so sultry, so intimate, that your stomach twisted. “Sounds like you're desperate for an excuse to touch me,” you shot back, your tone sharp despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

He tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more dangerous, more deliberate. “Desperate? No, darling. Just curious.”

His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, as if he could see straight through you to the rapid beat of your heart.

The air between you seemed to thicken, the tension coiling taut as his words hung there, daring you to respond.

Your grip on the table tightened as you forced yourself to meet his eyes, even as heat coiled low in your stomach.

It felt like gripping the steering wheel of a car spinning out, but you snapped the moment.

“You’re not as intimidating as you think you are."

Loki laughed, soft and wicked. “Of course not. And you're the picture of composure, as always."

His hand brushed against yours then, the faintest graze of his fingertips, and you swore the room tilted.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice a low murmur, his eyes locked on yours. “Prove me wrong. Pick up the brush. Start decorating. Show me you're not afraid of a little fun.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it. The weight of his gaze, the dark amusement in his smirk, the sheer magnetic pull of him it was... intoxicating.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, you grabbed the brush. “Fine,” you said, your voice tight as you dipped it into the paint.

Loki straightened, his smirk triumphant but his eyes still glinting with wicked intent. “There’s a good girl,” he said softly, the words like a caress against your ear.

It left you burning long after he’d stepped away.

As you focused on the paint in front of you, doing your best to ignore the heat coursing through your veins, you felt the thrill of his words linger.

The brush hovered over the pumpkin, the orange, unsullied skin glaring up at you like a taunt. Loki had retreated to the far end of the room, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the edge of the table as he spoke with Thor. You knew it was only a matter of time before his attention flickered back to you, the heat of a flame too close for comfort.

You had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm under his gaze any longer.

Sliding the brush down as quietly as possible, you rose from your seat. The soft scrape of your chair legs across the floor was muffled beneath the ambient chatter of the room, and Loki didn’t so much as glance your way. Your pulse quickened as you edged toward the door, heart hammering with every step.

He didn’t follow.

Once you’d slipped into the quiet of the hall, the tension in your chest eased, and you let out a breath you were very aware you'd been holding.

You made your way toward the compound’s library, the solitude of it a welcome balm. The others would still be occupied for at least another hour - enough time for you to lose yourself in the pages of your book and avoid whatever game Loki had been playing that almost made you crack.

The library greeted you with its familiar quiet, the scent of leather sofas and paper a comforting presence. You found your usual spot tucked away in a far corner, a large bay window cushioned with soft pillows overlooking the courtyard. Settling in with a contented sigh, you pulled your book from where you'd wedged it between the seat cushion and the wooden frame.

The story drew you in almost immediately, the tension of moments ago dissolving into the words on the page. The sunlight filtering through the window began softening into twilight, painting the room in hues of amber and shadow.

The quiet here was sacred, untouched by the chaos of the compound. As you turned the last few pages, your chest loosened, the illusion of safety creeping in.

Surely, he hadn’t followed you. Surely, Loki had other things to occupy himself-

Surely not.

“I expected better from you.”

The voice slithered into your ears, so low and sudden that your breath caught in your throat. With all your years of training, you managed to stay frozen. Futile, though. You knew he could see right through it.

You looked up, and there he stood, shadowed and immaculate, his silhouette framed by the dim glow of a single, golden lamp. His icy blue eyes glinted with cruel amusement, his lips curling into a smirk that made your stomach twist.

“How... predictable,” he continued, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. “You flee like a rabbit, thinking you can burrow away from the wolf.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, but you forced yourself turn back your book. “I don’t recall fleeing,” you started, turning a page. “I walked out, actually. Perhaps you’ve forgotten the difference in your old age.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, like distant thunder rolling over jagged peaks. “Ah, there it is. That fire you wear like armour. Does it soothe you to pretend you’re unshakeable?”

You scoffed, even as your pulse betrayed you. “You’re awfully sure of yourself for someone whose only hobby seems to be tormenting me.”

“Torment?” he echoed, his voice silken as he closed more distance between you. “My dear, if I were tormenting you, you’d know it. Shall I demonstrate?”

You didn’t dignify that with a response, instead turning another page of your book. The words blurred before your eyes, but you kept your expression neutral. “If you think I’m going to feed your ego by reacting, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

"Why did you refuse to take part?" There was something unnervingly earnest in his voice that pulled at your heart. "Why did you leave?"

You looked up, wearing a mask of indifference and sarcasm. “I didn’t realise decorating pumpkins was a matter of state importance.”

The smirk tugging at his lips was slow and predatory, dark amusement glinting in his eyes. “Such sharp words, little rabbit. Always so quick with your tongue when your heart’s trying to claw its way out of your chest.”

Your pulse spiked, but you refused to let him see it. Instead, you tilted your head, letting a slow, sardonic smirk curve your lips. “You said you weren't desperate, Loki. But you seem to have taken to taunting me for sport."

The laugh that slipped from him was low and sinuous, curling like smoke through the still air. “Oh, I don’t need sport to occupy me. But you…” He leaned forward, the space between you vanishing in an instant. “You’re far too entertaining to resist. Especially when you’re trembling behind that mask of yours.”

“I’m not trembling.”

“No?” His voice was a purr now, his breath brushing your ear as he lowered himself just enough to meet you at eye level. “I suppose you weren’t squirming earlier, either. Like prey in my hands.”

Your cheeks flared with heat, but you kept your expression neutral. “You sound obsessed.”

“And you sound very ticklish.”

The way he said it - smooth, dark, laced with that damned smirk -sent a ripple of mortification through you. It was all the confirmation you needed of his intentions to follow through on his earlier threat.

It was inevitable.

So you leaned back, lifting your book as if to shield yourself from the weight of his gaze. If you were going down, you were going down swinging. Well, verbally, at least.

“You’re overplaying your hand.”

“Oh, am I?” He stood to his full height, towering over you now, his shadow eclipsing the faint light. “Because the ones who act so tough, so stoic, so unbothered... they’re always the most fun. It’s so very delicious to watch them fall apart.”

“Is that what you tell yourself at night?” You forced your tone into something light, dismissive, though your grip on the book tightened. “That you’ve got me figured out?”

His smirk deepened, his head tilting as he studied you like a puzzle he already knew how to solve. “I don’t need to tell myself anything. You do all the work for me.”

Your lips parted for a retort, but his eyes flickered down to the slight tremor in your fingers, the way your knees shifted restlessly against the cushions.

And you saw how his smile widened, satisfied and predatory, when he saw all the hallmarks of someone about to flee.

“Go ahead,” he murmured, voice dropping to a velvet whisper. “Run. It’ll be more fun for me.”

For a split second, you froze, torn between logic and instinct. Then you bolted, your book tumbling to the seat as you darted for the nearest gap.

But Loki was faster.

You didn't make it two full steps before he caught you with a preternatural ease, his ensnaring hands dragging you back against him in one smooth motion. His low chuckle brushed your ear as he manoeuvred you down onto the window seat, half-pinning you on your side with his arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

“Pitiful,” he drawled, his tone rich with mockery. “And here I thought you’d make it a challenge.”

You shoved at him, scowling. “Let me go, you overgrown-”

Whatever venom you’d prepared was shattered as his fingers pressed into your ribs, curling with precision against the fabric of your sweater. Laughter burst from you, loud and uncontrollable, and you immediately clamped your lips shut, mortified by the sound.

“Ah,” Loki purred, his grin widening. “There it is. That lovely sound you try so hard to keep from the world. Go on, darling. Let me hear it again.”

“Loki, wait- no!” you gasped, but his hands had already found the curve of your waist, his fingers pinching with precision that felt criminal.

“No?” he echoed, mockingly incredulous. “You were so calm a moment ago. What happened?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. His hands slipped beneath the hem of your sweater, squeezing tighter, his nails grazing the bare skin of your sides. You quaked at the contact, laughter spilling out uncontrollably as he found every sensitive spot with uncanny accuracy. Your hands clutched at his forearms, his chuckle hot and tempting against your neck as your head fell back in mirth.

“Tell me the truth,” he said, his voice low and commanding, the words a dark melody against your ear. “Why did you run?”

“I- I...” you wheezed, twisting in his hold, going nowhere. With a ferocious, defiant growl, you yelled, "I... walked!"

Loki paused, his lips curling in that knowing smirk, and then he tickled harder, digging in with precision. You crumpled back against him, laughing helplessly, unable to catch your breath. Every sound that left your mouth was a mix of laughter and helpless gasps, each one a surrender to him, to the unrelenting tickling.

“Let's try again,” Loki commanded, his voice low, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me why you fled.”

You struggled to pull yourself together, trying to come up with another witty retort, but before you could speak, Loki found an especially sensitive spot, just under your ribs, and his fingers locked in with a brutal efficiency. You shrieked, squirming beneath him, but he held you there with the effortless force of a god, his smile widening against the shell of your ear.

You thrashed harder, your laughter raw and breaking, tears welling in your eyes. “I’ll- kill you-”

“You’ll what?” He laughed, low and dark, his fingers picking up speed again, pressing and kneading with wicked precision. Every stroke of his hands felt like it was designed to unravel you, to push you past your limits and then some.

The realisation hit like a blow: he could read you. Every shudder, every hitch in your breath, every twitch of your body. And worse, he was enjoying it, adjusting his touch with the kind of skill that only centuries of mischief could hone. His hands didn’t just tickle; they teased, tormented, mastered you.

"You- oh my g-" you gasped, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "You absolute fucking-"

“Such language,” he chided, his tone a tease of disapproval. “And after I’ve been so gentle.”

His fingers danced lower, teasing the curve of your hips, and the laugh that escaped you was so deep, so raw, it left your chest aching. Loki stilled for half a heartbeat, his grin sharp as he took in the sound, before redoubling his efforts. He pressed his thumbs into the tender space just above your hipbones, his fingers curling to squeeze in a way that had you screaming, your body writhing in his iron grip.

“Okay! Okay!” you gasped, tears of mirth welling in your eyes.

“Speak, then,” he commanded in low and silken voice, his fingers unrelenting. “And don’t lie to me. You won’t like the consequences.”

“I—” You hesitated, your breath hitching, but he gave you no mercy. His nails dragged lightly over your ribs, and the sound that tore from you was half a laugh, half a desperate gasp.

“Speak."

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself!” you finally choked out, your body trembling beneath his. “I didn’t want to make something stupid and have everyone see how bad it is!”

Immediately, his hands stilled, and you gulped in a shuddering breath. He unwrapped his arms from around you and leaned back, his smirk softening into something almost... fond. You shoved at him weakly, as if not quite believing he was retreating.

“Well,” he said, standing and staring down at you, admiring his handiwork, “you’ve certainly made a spectacle of yourself now.”

You glared at him, flushed and breathless. “You... are insufferable.”

“And you,” he countered, his grin returning, “are utterly fascinating. Shall we?”

Before you could protest, he hooked his arms under your knees and around your back, sweeping you up effortlessly, carrying you toward the door. You squirmed in his grasp.

“What the hell are you doing now?”

“Delivering you back to the battlefield,” he said, his smirk a knife’s edge. “You’re not escaping that easily. You’ve still got a pumpkin to ruin, and I, for one, am thoroughly invested in the spectacle.”

You groaned, your head falling back in defeat. "I hate you."

The smirk in his voice was undeniable. "No, you don't."

The dining hall was no longer the lively scene it had been earlier.

Now, it was deserted, shadows stretching long and dark across the room, flickering with the faint light of a few dying candles. The scent of melted wax and pumpkin guts permeated in the air, and the silence was nearly oppressive.

Loki carried you inside, his grip firm but not unkind, and though you didn’t resist, you couldn’t help but feel a smouldering irritation at the way he seemed to enjoy this small victory. When he set you down, his hands lingered at your waist, steadying you, as though daring you to bolt again.

You stepped forward, stopping just shy of your untouched pumpkin. Its smooth, orange surface gleamed in the low light, mocking you. The tools remained where you’d left them, and the weight of your earlier frustration pressed at the edges of your mind.

“I... don’t know what to do with it,” you said finally, turning back to Loki. You hated how the admission sounded - small, almost defeated - but there was no taking it back now.

Loki’s sharp gaze softened imperceptibly. His lips twitched, but the smirk didn’t fully form. “Then I shall help you,” he said, his voice low and smooth, offering no room for argument.

Before you could respond, he sat in your chair with that infuriating ease, his presence commanding even in the simplest of movements. His eyes met yours, glittering with a mixture of challenge and amusement, and he reached out a hand, curling his fingers in a silent demand.

“What are you-” The words barely left your mouth before you realised he was beckoning you to sit on his lap. Heat flushed through you, unbidden, and you scoffed, trying to mask it. “You do realise chairs are meant for one person, don’t you?”

Yet, unwilling to have him see how he was sliding under your skin, you turned and settled yourself against him. His muscled chest brushed against your back, his legs firm and solid as your seat.

“And yet, here we are,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. His hand settled at your waist - an anchor, not a cage. “Now, let’s see if we can salvage your poor, neglected pumpkin.”

You scoffed, grabbing the carving tool. “Fine. Show me your masterful technique, Your Highness.”

The title came out sharper than intended, but Loki only chuckled, low and indulgent. He leaned closer, his shadow engulfing yours, and reached around your shoulder to guide your hand. His fingers slid over yours, his grip firm but not harsh. “Relax,” he murmured. His voice sent a delicious shiver down your spine. “You grip it like a weapon. This is art, not war.”

You bit back a retort and let him guide you. His body was close enough that his every movement brushed against yours, his breath warm against your cheek. Together, you began to carve into the pumpkin, slow and deliberate. His free hand flexed against your waist, your free hand steadying the canvas.

As the shapes emerged, you realised they weren’t ordinary designs. They were runes.

Norse runes. Delicate, intricate, and entirely unreadable to you.

Loki worked with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his hand steady as he traced the lines with your hand.

“What does it say?” you asked eventually, breaking the silence.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck as he murmured, “You’ll see. Keep holding it steady."

The tension between you grew with every passing second. His touch lingered long, his presence close. Every shift of his body beneath yours was impossible to ignore, every brush of his breath against your skin a reminder of just how thin the line between teasing and something real had become.

When the carving was done, you slipped off his lap, feeling the need for a the brief moment of distance for your sanity, and retrieved a candle from the sideboard.

But the room felt colder without him holding you.

You lit the wick and placed the candle inside the pumpkin, watching as the light filled the carved runes, casting jagged shadows across the table.

You turned back to Loki. His expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed on you as though he could see straight through to your very thoughts.

Carefully, you sat back down on his lap, unable to ignore the magnetic pull he seemed to have on you. This time, you sat side-on. His hands settled instinctively, one on your back, one on your knee, holding you steady. With his height, your faces were almost level, but you still had to look ever so slightly up.

“What does it say?” you asked again, your voice quieter now, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile thing had formed between you.

“The name of a great warrior,” he said, his tone mockingly reverent. “Renowned for wit, skill, and unmatched beauty.”

You arched a brow, your lips twitching. “Let me guess. Your name?”

His grin widened, and the silence was answer enough for you.

You rolled your eyes, but a genuine smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yet undeniably fascinating,” he countered, his voice a low purr. His gaze dropped to your lips, and his smirk faltered, replaced with something quieter, more tender. Relieved. "There it is." His words were almost a sigh.

You tilted your head, raising a brow in question.

“I was beginning to fear you didn’t know how to smile.”

The intimacy of his words rendered you speechless for several, long seconds. Your mind faltered, your fingers fidgeting in your lap.

“What? You don't remember what happened like... twenty minutes ago? I recall laughing to the point of tears, thanks to you.”

“That was different,” he said simply, his tone quieter, earnest.

The air between you thickened, heavy with unspoken things. His hand moved in slow, deliberate patterns against your back. “It must be exhausting,” he said after a moment, his voice gentle and laced with something that sounded dangerously close to sympathy. “Always bracing for the next crisis.”

His sudden sincerity caught you off-guard. You fidgeted with your hands, stained with pumpkin pulp, your gaze dropping to your lap. “It’s not like that,” you muttered, though the words felt hollow.

“Isn’t it?” His hand stilled on your back for a moment before continuing its slow, soothing movements. “You are allowed moments of meaningless joy. To partake in frivolity. It doesn’t make you weak.”

A bitter laugh escaped you, soft and humourless. “I take it you didn’t buy that I was embarrassed about the pumpkin?”

He tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Not for a second.”

You looked up, straight into him. "But you let me go."

His gaze fell to your lips, as if he were already missing your smile. Mourning it. Plotting a witty remark or flirtatious comment that might see its return.

He then looked back to your eyes, swallowing harder than usual, his voice now gentle. “I thought you were due for some mercy. You... seem to have very little for yourself.”

The words settled over you like a weight, heavy and undeniable.

And for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

"It feels wrong," you admitted in little over a whisper. "To... do things like this when so many people-" The breath caught in your throat and you had to look back at your hands, sniffing to buy some time. "It's selfish. Carving pumpkins. Decorating. Laughing at stupid things. People are out there suffering, and I’m here playing holiday games. Safe.”

Loki was quiet for a long moment, his hand resuming its slow, deliberate movements along your back. It brought you far more comfort than you'd ever admit out loud. Not yet, at least.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, the usual sharp edges dulled. “You cannot bear the weight of your world every hour of every day. Even the strongest flame falters if it is not tended.”

The rawness of his words cut through your defences. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but your lips twitched as you tried to deflect. “You know,” you muttered, half-laughing as your head dipped, “getting tickled to death felt a lot less exposing than this conversation.”

His chest vibrated with a low chuckle, and when you glanced up, his smirk had returned, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I’m happy to oblige,” he drawled, his fingers curling against you as if preparing to pounce.

You shot him a warning look, though you couldn’t quite keep the corner of your mouth from twitching. “You wouldn't.”

“Oh, wouldn't I?” he teased, his hands still hovering ominously close.

"No," you shook your head, that twitch turning into a smirk. "I sat with you of my own free will. Trusting you. You won't jeopardise that."

The playful glint in his gaze softened slightly as he settled back, studying you with a quiet intensity. "The little rabbit may just be a fox after all," he mused, ceding his advantage.

He studied you for a good, long while, you both sitting in a comfortable silence as he traced idle patterns against your back, his thumb brushing your knee.

Finally, you swallowed your nerves, and broke the silence. "Thank you. For your help.”

You looked back to the table, eyes roaming over what he'd carved with your hand;

The name of a great warrior. He'd said. Renowned for wit, skill, and unmatched beauty.

"Runes are... actually quite beautiful."

He hummed softly in agreement.

You turned your head slightly, eyes still on the sharp lines. "What would my name look like?"

Then, you looked up at his face, and your breath caught.

His eyes were alight, faintly glittering from the flickering candle inside the artwork. Something between a smile and something far more satisfied curled onto his lips as he nodded at the runes.

"Exactly like that."

#loki x reader #no y/n #ticklish!reader #loki x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel tickle fluff #loki tickle fic #answered #thanks anon!#halloween fic #fall fic

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mxtxfanatic · 3 months ago

Text

No, every interpretation is not valid in a piece of media unless the creator has explicitly said somewhere that they have left their work open to interpretation. If you wanna “choose your own adventure” your way through a story, Minecraft exists, The Sims 4 was made free, a blank Word/Google document is a few clicks away, a pen and paper are easily found in the supplies section of most stores. A story for adults with a plot, characters, and conclusion is not your build-a-bear. You are looking for fanfics.

Someone else took the time to make a thing and share it with you so that you could understand the thing they are trying to communicate to you. If an author writes, “The sky is purple,” you don’t get to go, “Well, in the world that I live in, the sky is blue, so the sky in the story must be blue, too. Let’s discuss!” and treat that as “valid interpretation” that should be discussed with equal weight as the people discussing “ok, what’s the significance of the sky being purple? 🤔” I don’t give a singular fuck about whether you are familiar with the "cultural context" of the story or whether you can understand the original language it was written in or whether or not you know the creator on a person level. None of that shit matters, because nobody consumes media for the express purpose of finding out whether or not it conformed to the bank of knowledge Rando Number User #24,232 has learned in life. No person engaged in real critique ever has to take you seriously if your attempts at "analysis" begin and end at "I don't know the author irl to know what their intentions were, so anything goes!" That is a lazy copout, nothing "critical" to be found. Not everything in a general fandom space has to be canon-exclusive, no, but every claim to canon has to align with what is in the actual source material. There’s nothing wrong with either of those statements.

So no, you don’t get to waltz into a canon space going “Jiang Cheng is a great brother and uncle, let’s discuss” and then get upset when told “In this book, Jiang Cheng is an abusive uncle and childhood friend, and round these parts, we discuss the book.” Don’t wanna discuss Jiang Cheng's canon characteristics? The main tags never went anywhere. Get from round these parts.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #canon jiang cheng #actually idek why I’m writing these except to give myself something to do #cause the stans trying to ‘reclaim the tag’ are doing so to be bullies #and the people watching them do so while watching from the sidelines and complaining about ‘drama’#also do not care about not tolerating horrible fandom behavior #because they're also sympathetic to fanon!jc and don't wanna lose that content #or get turned on by their fav content creators that they are fully aware are bullies #which is why i had to step in to begin with #so at this point I’m just talking to talk #which is fine lmao

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violetasteracademic · 4 months ago

Note

Why do you think gwyn would be added as a love interest for azriel if they don’t end up as endgame? Why complicate the love triangle between elain/lucien/azriel?

Hello my lovely anon!

It can sometimes be hard to tell where the anonymous asks in my inbox are coming from. It is never my intention to argue or try to convince any other ships why they are wrong. I tag my work very carefully, ask my beloved rebloggers to do the same, and just want to stay in a cozy bubble. I think all ships are allowed, and the time I spend here breaking down the text and providing analysis is only for fun and comfort. I don't ever want or wish for my posts to end up in the wrong tags. Now that I've gotten that disclaimer out of the way, this is an ask where I can't *totally* tell what perspective it is coming from, but I am assuming it is being asked in good faith and I will answer how I typically do.

Point blank, I do not believe G/wyn was introduced as a love interest. Only Elain was.

I don't really know that I have anything else to add to that conversation, because people either think it was romantic or it wasn't. But I will say that I assume we can all agree on all sides that the bonus chapter is what led to the fervor of the G/wynriel ship as G/wyn quite literally replacing Elain as the romantic interest and not just a fun, enjoyable ship for those who don't jive with Elriel and want to carve out a space for themselves in the fandom. And as someone who has read all of SJM's bonus chapters and not just this one, I'm going to provide side by side comparisons using *only* bonus chapters that I can almost guarantee many people have not read- since most people don't read the bonus chapters. I still get comments on old tiktoks every day asking what the Azriel bonus chapter is and where to find it. And not once have I ever been asked about the myriad of other BC's out there.

Crescent City Spoilers ahead:

House of Sky and Breath has three bonus chapters. There is one in particular that is almost a carbon copy of G/wyn and Azriel's portion in his POV bonus, and it is the Tharion POV chapter with Hypaxia:

^^Both men head to a place where they assumed they would be alone, minds heavy and restless and needing to work off some tension before they could sleep- only to find their space already occupied.

^^They both flounder a bit with social niceties, awkwardness, being polite, the other person clearly wanting to be alone, and yet wind up falling into a conversation anyway.

^^ Both pairs experience surprise at being asked questions no one has ever asked them before. They also reveal information about themselves- and notably- both bonus chapters reveal heavy backstory or indications about unique or hidden powers.

^^ Both men experience some sort of lingering sensation that they could have sworn was happening after saying goodnight.

And last but not least:

Both Tharion and Azriel end on a particularly strong emotional note. Tharion is passing notes through Fitz back and forth with Hypaxia. He notes how he has never had such an instant, honest, and deep connection. He won't let anyone interfere with her birthright, and if she was in danger, he would risk everything he had to protect Hypaxia.

Azriel is secretly regifting a necklace to Gwyn, and feels truly happy at the thought that it might make her happy. He likes and respects her and is glad to think of being able to make her smile. (I of course think there is a reason for this, which I've broken down here but I also don't think it's necessary to minimize their friendship for this post.)

If you look at these two bonus chapters side by side, they are literally a copy and paste. Two people needing to be alone and winding up together, talking about things they have never talked about anyone with, and both men really powerfully feeling the strength and depth of a connection. And if you read Tharion's chapter in full, there are actually way more details of him talking about how beautiful and gorgeous she is, and how he has to stop himself from going down that road. But did this set up Hypaxia and Tharion as romantic love interests?

Nope. Hypaxia is queer as queer can be. Kitty only on her menu. But they develop a very genuine and close friendship. Because the thing is, SJM writes an incredible amount of deep and meaningful friendships between men and women. And they are always a blend of emotion, intimacy, a bit fun and flirty, full of banter, and true trust and connection. So as far as BC's, Azriel and G/wyn and Tharion and Hypaxia are the only comparable ones in her catalogue. And they are pretty damn comparable. It's also important to note that the Tharion and Hypaxia bonus chapter was included in the book where she is very much revealed as 100% queer and not even a little bi, so it's not like SJM was trying to create a red herring or a conversation. That's just how she writes her hetero platonic friendships. Take it up with her, man.

Meanwhile, the things that make it clear that a romantic interest is being introduced occurs in the Elain portion, and can be directly compared to the Nessian bonus chapter. Both men being willing to beg on their knees for a taste. Both men absolutely losing their minds over Elain and Nesta's scents. Both men knowing it was wrong, it was stupid, but being unable to stop themselves anyway. Both men having issues of what their family would think if they found out introduced (only Rhys DID find out and laid down that forbidden romance hard.)

Here's the thing- many people read Elain and Azriel as romantic for over four books and there were people out there like, nah, I don't see it, they are more like brother and sister. And then the bonus chapter confirmed, no, actually, they are wildly down bad and desperate for each other. Wanting to taste and touch and kiss each other- romantic interest confirmation. Fun and banter-y conversation occurring because two people needed to be alone but actually wound up in the same vicinity as someone else and had a deep conversation and talked about things they've never spoken about with anyone before-Platonic friendship. You can disagree. But it doesn't change the fact that right now, a group of fans are interpreting G/wyn and Azriel's interactions as romantic, and preferring it to Elain and Azriel's confirmed romantic interactions.

Sarah did not add G/wyn as a love interest and complicate things. The fandom did. Until Azriel is not sleeping, not thinking clearly, down bad desperate to get on his knees for G/wyn- and until G/wyn leans into his touch and says yes, they are actually currently friends. Could that change in the future? Totally. But Sarah literally has not written it yet.

I don't mind that the G/wyn ship exists. I love her. I have real life G/wynriel friends who are not online like we are. They are good people with good hearts who have different taste in Azriel's potential romance than me. They don't ride at dawn for Elain like I do, nor are they violently misogynistic against her or being toxic and hateful towards other women online. They just liked G/wyn's story and want more of her. That's okay. But it is important to pay attention to what has actually been written vs. what is being assumed by a group of people that openly dislike the only female character remaining with a confirmed book and who has been confirmed as a love interest.

Read Sarah's other bonus chapters! They are fun. Azriel's isn't the only one that has ever existed, but it seems like that sometimes (and I'll admit, it's amazing and I love it so fair). And nothing happened in the bonus chapter that is going to change the course or foreshadow to anything new. Not everyone has access to them, and bonus chapters do not create new plot. They are just an incentive to make money and secure pre-orders.

I think that's everything! You guys are awesome for reading these insanely long posts and vibing with me here. ily.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #tharion and hypaxia #elain and azriel

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so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site · 2 years ago

Note

He's got a long list of ex-lovers, they'll tell you he's insane...

So I was thinking and decided to calculate roughly how many people Dream has dated in his life. He's ten billion years old and he has dated at least four people the last ten thousand years: Nada(if you can call that dating), Calliope, Titania, and Thesally. Mervyn heavily implies in Brief Lives that there's been many others, but let's say for conveniences sake that he dates about three or four people every ten thousand years. And let's take billion years off his ten billion before he idk, matured, and also before intelligent sentient creatures formed. That leaves us with... 2 700 000-3 600 000 people(there's statistically no way all of these relationships failed right?!). And from what we're shown in comics, Dream is never the one to walk away from a relationship. It's always the other person breaking up with him. Whether the breakups were his fault or not is another can of worms entirely. I'd say most are, but not all, e.g., Kilala cheating on him.

Still, no wonder he doesn't take rejection well. I'm not trying to make excuses for him, but wow, a lot of his actions make sense now.

That makes Johanna's question "do you have any ex-girlfriends" sooo much funnier

I think we can go even further than that to be honest. Are we assuming that only Dream's humanish male aspect takes lovers? What about the Cat of Dreams? What about the weird robot version of Dream? What about the alien flower version of Dream that died in Overture? What about the female version of Dream? The huge stone head version of Dream? The version of Dream for every single different animal?

We only seem to see the lovers he takes that are human-ish in form and female-ish in gender. Arguably he takes many more lovers in all his various aspects. I think even Neil Gaiman said somewhere that Dream has taken many many lovers over his long life far more than we know about, so putting that into the perspective that his lovers always leave him, it certainly does go towards explaining why he is Like That.

#but hey #he only wants love if it's torture #ok ok I'll stop with the blank space references now #the sandman #character analysis #dream of the endless #also #taylor swift #for the lyrical references

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thatscarletflycatcher · 2 months ago

Text

Annotated Editions: the case of Jane Austen's Persuasion

The other day I made a post about my poor opinion of David Shepard's annotated editions of Jane Austen's novels, specially in terms of how much praise they get in the Austen fandom. That last qualifier is important, because while in general I do think they aren't great in a vacuum, it's specifically the place of honor they get in fandom that makes my judgement harsher; not because popular=bad, but because, well, if you claim to be excellent, you should be excellent.

So I'm gonna try here to compare three annotated editions: Shepard's, Norton Critical, and Oxford World's Classics.

Let's begin with the introductions/prefaces. Prefaces are complicated, because for the most part there is a tradition in this sort of literature to treat them as a free space for an essay, basically fulfilling the role of an afterword, instead of working as an introduction, as a summary of the historical, biographical, anthropological, artistic, etc, clues that will facilitate and enrich the comprehension of the text by the reader.

How goes Shepard about his introduction to Persuasion?

There's a brief note to the reader before the preface itself explaining what kind of notes he has added to the text; so far so good.

The preface itself is roughly divided in the following sections:

a biographical sketch of Jane Austen (5-10%)

comments on the spot Persuasion occupies popularity wise in the list of Austen novels, followed by, as Shepard's argument for why it is so;

An in-depth comparative analysis of the whole plot and main characters of the novel, with other Austen novels, pointing "pros" and "cons." (90-95%)

A comment on how he thinks Austen's style would have been moving forward, disagreeing with Virginia Woolf.

The first section is useful to contextualize the work, but the second is basically spoilers + Shepard's opinions on the novel and on the novel as compared to other Austen novels; this latter part is of little or none usefulness to the reader, and even its quality as an essay has several very weak, "sloppy" points. For example, the assertion that Persuasion, like the rest of Austen's novels is a romance; not only because many would disagree, but because a good introduction would include a discussion of the genre of the novel, and for an Austen novel the discussion and explanation of the nature and tensions of romance, bildungsroman and comedy of manners is VERY important. Another weak point is the blank assertion that Austen never wrote a scene between two men alone, which is false). Another notorious absence in this introduction is the historical setting of Persuasion; it is a rarity between Austen novels in how relevant the Napoleonic Wars are for the plot and how firmly they date the narrative. Tied to this are considerations of class, and the meaning of the navy as a symbol of meritocracy and Austen's special relation to it through her family... none of which are even mentioned in this preface.

How does the Norton Critical Edition by Patricia Meyer Spacks tackle the same part?

When did Austen write the novel and when was it published.

Brief summary of currents of opinion on tone and theme of the novel.

A discussion of traditional views on the "femininity" of Persuasion.

Critical evaluation of this in relation to contemporary analysis of the ethical and the political in Austen and the novel.

Her own interpretation of the novel as an ethical study on the concept of self-love.

A brief note on the choices made for the presentation of the final text.

I do think, even by this brief summary, one can uncontroversially say this is a better preface. While it still lacks the practicality of information that is mentioned rather than explained about the context of the novel, its use of spoilers is sparse and isolated rather than extensive. No supporting references to other novels are made (which I think is a good thing, because those involve a certain requirement of familiarity for the reader), and while the personal interpretation of the editor is presented, it is not an opinion on why Persuasion is popular, but a reference, a way for the reader to organize and approach the text of the novel.

Now on to Oxford World's Classics, introduction and notes by Deidre Shauna Lynch.

Napoleon and the briefest historical context he provides for the novel

An analysis of Persuasion's uniqueness in the Austen canon through the character of Anne

The permanence/change break through the changed roles of houses and the predominance of travel in comparison to previous novels

The role of memory and with this a tieback to continue elaborating on the historical context of the Napoleonic Wars in England and the cultural change it brought in the understanding of History

Persuasion as a sequel-like novel, for which a main interpretative key is that of History and Memory

A stronger attention on aging and disability

The interrelation between war history and social history in the novel, and the time frame of the events

More elaboration on the theme of past and present and personal history, with a contrast between Sir Walter's reading of the baronetage and Anne's reading of the newspapers

An interpretation of Persuasion as commentary on Sir Walter Scott's restoration plots; Wentworth and Mr. Elliot as two forms of return of the past.

An analysis of The ConversationTM between Anne and Harville still on the theme of personal history.

A comparison between the two endings of the novel

The assertion that the novel isn't melancholy and nostalgic in the end, but open to the future

This introduction is much more meandering and essay-like than the Norton one, and in that way much closer to Shepard's, in its use of spoilers and commentary on a text the reader is unfamiliar with. It's definitely not a GoodTM introduction as introduction, but it still includes mentions of important historical context and keys to reading the text; and its commentary provides references not only to other authors writing at the time, such as Scott and Wordsworth, but of more contemporary sources as well. There is some poliphony to it beyond a mention in passing to Virginia Woolf.

Besides that, it's also worth mentioning that the volume includes a brief biography of Austen and a chronology of her life elsewhere, a full note on the text editorial choices, a selection of bibliography for further reading, and three context appendixes on rank and social status, dancing, and Austen's relationship with the navy. As much as I'd think those appendixes should have taken the place of preface and the preface a place of afterword, the information to the reader has been included.

In terms of this kind of extra, Shepard has included a chronology of the novel, maps, and pictures in his notes, which are features the other editions don't have that might be of interest; but he has not provided good contexts like the Oxford edition does, either in the introduction or as appendixes; or pieces of solid, well researched essays and contextual texts like Norton does. Both Oxford and Norton include the cancelled chapters in an annex; he doesn't.

Someone would reasonably argue that Shepard chose to include all contextual information in the notes, and here is where personal opinion comes across the strongest: I think he does it that way, not for the reader's convenience, but for the padding of the notes and to inflate the value of his role as an editor. The addition of titles to the chapters of the novel, and the repetition of notes and information serve, in my opinion, the same end. In my opinion, there is a substantial difference between providing someone contextual information before they engage with something, and giving it as the something unfolds. Your first experience of a soccer match would be entirely different if someone told you the rules of the game, the stakes of the particular match, etc, before you get to the stadium than if they were to feed them to you during the match; and I think the former is a much more satisfying and rich experience.

So, notes!

Shepard's editions have lots and lots of notes. For example, for Chapter I of Persuasion he makes 65 notes, against 9 of Norton and 15 of Oxford. A first impression would say "oh, that's a really nice lot of info!" until you stop to think if this is really such a heavy text that it requires a note every 40 words on average. That's almost two notes on the extension of this paragraph alone. Let's dig a bit more to see where are the differences in selection.

Norton's, as you might have guessed now, tend to be editions heavy on the commentary side through essays and articles, and so notes are minimal and sparse. The notes on this chapter are on "baronetage", "patents", "creations", "Dugdale", "worsting", "chaise and four", "Tattersal's", "black ribbons", and "alineable". None of the notes go over a line. Oxford includes all these, and adds "High Sheriff", "exertions of loyalty", "duodecimo", "heir presumptive", "awful legacy", "dear daughter's sake", "every ball", and "his agent". Listing all the Shepard notes would be exhausting, so let's try some general classification of the notes that aren't the ones above:

3 geographical notes that amount to "this is a place in England, see map", which are easily understood in context.

14 glossary notes which usefulness/necessity is very variable. Awful and town are very reasonable notes; one wonders the necessity of notes on bloom and independence which are easily understood by context.

This theme of usefulness extends to the rest of the general notes. That stillborns were not uncommon during Jane Austen's era, or that Austen's fabricated entry of the baronetage actually does look like an entry of the baronetage is trivial and not necessary for the understanding of the text at all. That lady Russell is the widow of a knight is something that the text will state the following chapter, and that knights ranked below baronets will be heavily implied there too. The explanation of what an old country family is literally reads as redundant. Many notes are like this: information that is trivial, explained further on in the text or easily understood through context. This is specially the case of notes like the one saying that cousin marriage wasn't illegal, that people of high status spent a lot of money showing it off, and that rich people also went into debt.

There are useful notes, but when you trim them down to the actually pertinent and useful, there aren't many more than the ones included in the Oxford edition.

Now let me take a look at some of the notes shared between Shepard and Oxford:

On patents/creations:

Shepard:

The book listed families in order of receipt of the title. Thus Sir Walter would first see the earliest patents (i.e., grants conferring the baronetcy); there would be only a “limited remnant” of them because most early baronetcies had expired by this point due to the death of all possible heirs. Sir Walter could only know this by consulting another book such as Dugdale (see note 9) and comparing its list of all baronetcies with the entries in his baronetage, for the latter would show only existing titles—that he has done this indicates how obsessed he is with the matter. This carefully acquired knowledge arouses Sir Walter to admiration for himself as the holder of a surviving baronetcy. He would later come to the many pages showing the creations, or new titles, of the last (i.e., eighteenth) century and feel contempt for their relative newness (his came from 1660; see note 12).

Oxford:

limited remnant of the earliest patents: a title was also referred to as a patent: ‘a writ conferring some exclusive right or privilege’ (Johnson). Sir Walter regrets the passing away of the families whose titles date back to the seventeenth century. James I had created the title of baronet in 1611 and had used the financial support he obtained from the baronets he created to fund his army in Northern Ireland. endless creations of the last century: Sir Walter’s contempt for the low-born recipients of the new titles that the government had distributed would extend to those who, like the commander of the Fleet, Lord Nelson (the son of a mere country clergyman), had recently been rewarded with newly created peerages for their war service.

Oxford omits information that will be said explicitly later on in the text (that the Elliot baronetcy dates from 1660), and in its place includes a very relevant example of a new patent to show why Sir Walter looks with contempt upon new creations, rather than simply repeating what the text says.

High sheriff:

Shepard:

The High Sheriff (often simply called sheriff) was, after the Lord Lieutenant, the leading official in a county, responsible for the execution of the laws. He served for one year. The position, usually held by a member of the gentry, carried great prestige and would be a source of family pride.

Oxford:

the chief representative of the Crown in county government, the High Sheriff presided over parliamentary elections and the administration of justice. Holders of the office (which is now a mainly ceremonial one) were chosen annually from among the principal land-owners of the county.

While Shepard gives me something I can gleam from the text itself (the social importance of the title) Oxford tells me what his job entailed.

The note on duodecimo is an interesting case, where technically Shepard's information is more complete, but he spreads it in such a way as to pad his note count and extension. He simply notes that it is a small book, and refers to a note on books on chapter X:

“Large” could refer to thickness but is more likely to refer to length and width. At this time books came in widely varying sizes. The principal ones were folios, in which a standard sheet of paper was folded in two to make the pages, quartos, in which the paper was folded into quarters, octavos, in which the paper was folded into eight pieces, and duodecimos, in which the paper was folded into twelve pieces. Thus the length and width of a duodecimo would be one-sixth those of a folio. The type of book would influence its size. Popular books, especially novels, tended to come in smaller sizes, while serious, scholarly ones were usually larger. Thus the size of Charles Hayter’s books helps spur the Musgroves’ worries about excessive studying. They might be naturally inclined to such worries, not seeming bookish at all themselves.

What's the reference for this note specifically? "and having been found on the occasion by Mr. Musgrove with some large books before him, Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove were sure all could not be right, and talked, with grave faces, of his studying himself to death." Clearly the natural place of this note is on "duodecimo" in chapter I, but by this strategy Shepard not only manages to make two notes out of where there should be only one, but inserts notes visually in chapters in such a way as to make it appear like he has lots and lots of substantial, erudite explanations to make all the time. This strategy he repeats a lot through the text.

It's these habits of trickery, of padding and puffing up that I find intellectually dishonest, and rather inexcusable in a man who is an academic and must know better. I have also accused him of sloppiness. Perhaps I could have been more charitable and say that Shepard is a Historian by profession, and the things that touch on the literary and the philosophical, his references are much more scarce and lacking, not particularly well researched (in contrast with his historical notes). I mentioned how despite being relatively similar in tone and aim, the contrast between Shepard and Oxford showed that the Oxford annotator was familiar with literary authors in ways Shepard wasn't. This reflects in notes as well. For example:

Pinny

Shepard:

Charmouth is another coastal town (see note 8, for a description). Up Lyme sits atop the ascent next to Lyme, and offers views of the town and sea. Pinny is a spot a little west of Lyme. (For locations, see map.)

Oxford:

Many readers encountering this description of the scenery of Pinny, just west of Lyme, have detected an echo of the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s ‘Kubla Khan’ (composed 1798; published 1816). See lines 12-13: ‘But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted | Down the green hill athwart a cedar n cover. . . .’ The romance of the landscape is the product of a series of landslides, which have carried into Pinny Bay some of the cliff paths on which Austen must have walked during her stay in Lyme.

Marmion and The Lady of the Lake/Giaour and The Bride of Abydos

Shepard:

These are two long narrative poems by Walter Scott. In contrast to the above poets, Scott immediately achieved great popularity. The two poems cited here, his most widely read, were among the best sellers of the age—and in this age, poetry generally outsold novels, at least until Scott’s own novels appeared. Both poems are stories of love and war, set in sixteenth-century Scotland; a critical element of Romanticism was fascination with the past, especially the medieval past, and Scott was central to fostering this sentiment. Jane Austen mentions each of these poems in her letters. These are two narrative poems by Lord Byron, the other highly popular poet of the time. Both are tragic love stories set in the Middle East; fascination with foreign lands, especially ones regarded as highly exotic, was another feature of Romanticism.

Oxford:

The first two titles refer to long narrative poems, romances of medieval times, published by Sir Walter Scott in 1808 and 1810; the third and fourth refer to ‘Turkish tales’ published by rival poet Lord Byron in 1813. The poets’ representations of warrior heroes committing doughty deeds in picturesque settings probably contributed to their wartime popularity. Still, the notes that Byron appended to his poems adopt a more cynical view of their heroes’ sabre-rattling than do the poems themselves, in ways that distinguish their account of heroism from Persuasion’s, idealistic view of its chivalric war hero. Anne and Benwick prove themselves faithful observers of the literary scene when they attempt to adjudicate between Scott and Byron (an attempt they resume on p. 90). Similar efforts at a comparative evaluation of the decade’s two most commercially successful poets are pursued in William Hazlitt’s The Spirit of the Age (1825) and the anonymous A Discourse on the Comparative Merits of Scott and Byron (1824).

Our best moralists

Shepard:

These could refer to a wide array of works, especially from earlier years. The eighteenth century, whose spirit Jane Austen exudes in many respects, was characterized by a general preference for prose and an emphasis on greater rationalism than the Romantic period. Moral essays, frequently supported by observations on life and contemporary mores, were popular throughout the century. Collections of letters, often highly polished, also appeared. Finally, biography developed as a significant genre, and it, like much of the prose of the time, often had a moralizing tone, pointing out lessons and presenting examples of virtuous behavior.

The difficulty in following precepts of patience and resignation had been a popular theme of many writers, especially when discussing the influential philosophy of Stoicism, which counseled rational indifference to the ills of life. Similarly, as in all ages, many who preached virtue did not always live up to their preaching. One of the most influential prose moralists of the eighteenth century, and a favorite author of Jane Austen’s, Samuel Johnson, addresses this point in one of his essays (The Rambler, #14). He writes that “for many reasons a man writes much better than he lives.” But he argues, “Nothing is more unjust, however common, than to charge with hypocrisy him that expresses zeal for those virtues, which he neglects to practice; since he may be sincerely convinced of the advantages of conquering his passions, without having yet obtained the victory.” Rather, he claims that such a man should be commended for attempting to impart to others some of his own, possibly hard-earned, wisdom. From this perspective, Anne’s counsel to Captain Benwick, which does certainly come from her own extensive experience, would represent a valuable and benevolent service to him, whatever her own failings in achieving patience or self-control.

Oxford:

The texts Anne prescribes to Benwick would very probably include works by Samuel Johnson. Throughout the second half of the eighteenth century readers made an almost medicinal use of the essay series The Rambler (first published 1750-2), in which Johnson treats such topics as the dangers of solitude and the necessity of resignation in the face of loss. Johnson’s biographer James Boswell claimed of The Rambler that ‘In no writings whatever can be found . . . more that can brace and invigorate every manly and noble sentiment’ ( Life ofJohnson, ed. R. W. Chapman (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1983), 154).

Here I would note that the much longer two-notes reference of Shepard sits between vague and repetitive, and that in my opinion both sin by omission of Shaftesbury (Anthony Ashley Cooper).

Dark blue seas

Shepard:

Byron’s The Corsair, a work Jane Austen mentions reading in a letter (March 5, 1814), begins with the lines, “O’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, / Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free.”

Oxford:

Benwick and Anne perhaps recall the second canto of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1812). Its description of the hero’s voyage from Greece and of the ‘little warlike world within’ (ii. 154) he enters when he boards the ship certainly glamorizes nautical life: ‘He that has sail’d upon the dark blue sea, | Has view’d at times, I ween, a full fair sight’ (ii. 145-6). They may also be remembering the lines that open The Corsair (1814), a description of the freedom that the poem’s pirates enjoy as outlaws: ‘O’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, | Our thoughts as boundless and our souls as free’. In a letter of 1814 Austen sounds jaded about the Byronic heroes, such as Harold and Conrad the Corsair, who enthuse Captain Benwick: ‘I have read the Corsair, mended my petticoat, & have nothing else to do’ ( Letters , 257).

'eleven with its silver sounds’

Shepard:

The origin of this phrase, which seems, based on the quotation marks, to be from a particular text, has never been identified for certain. One commentator, Patricia Meyer Spacks, suggests the phrase may allude to a line in The Rape of the Lock by Alexander Pope, a poet Jane Austen certainly knew well: “And the pressed watch returned a silver sound.” The phrase does not represent a literal description of the operation of the clock, for the component parts of a clock were made of other metals than silver, usually brass or steel. Clocks were standard parts of a home, designed for elegant appearance as well as utility.

Oxford:

The literary allusion has not been traced. In 1921 Herbert Grierson conjectured that Austen was here misremembering the description of the coquette’s morning rituals that Alexander Pope gives in The Rape of the Lock (1712): ‘Thrice rung the Bell, the Slipper knock’d the Ground, | And the press’d Watch return’d a silver Sound’ (i. 17-18).

Note how here Shepard is crediting Meyer Spacks, but does not reference where (the Norton Critical Edition), whereas the Oxford annotation traces the conjecture to what appears to be its original proponent.

The pen has been in their hands

Shepard:

At this time there had been moves to improve the quality of women’s education, but it still was inferior to men’s, especially at the higher levels—no universities admitted women. As for books, while women had come to constitute a substantial portion of those who wrote novels, men dominated virtually all other fields of literary endeavor.

Oxford:

even as she has Anne object to examples from books, Austen echoes the precedents set by figures in the literary tradition who have previously commented on men’s monopoly of the written word. Anne sounds like the Wife of Bath in Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales , who is exasperated by male clerics’ representations of women, and, closer to Austen’s time, like Richard Steele’s character Arietta, who recounts the story of Inkle, the mercenary Englishman, and Yarico, the native woman of Jamaica whom Inkle betrays, so as to counter her male visitor’s trite examples of female inconstancy. Arietta observes, ‘You Men are Writers, and can represent us Women as Unbecoming as you please in your Works, while we are unable to return the Injury’ (.Spectator, 11 (13 Mar. 17 n)).

I'm not saying that necessarily Shepard's notes should be absolutely excellent in every single way and aspect in order for it to be a serviceable/good annotated edition; but all the things I have mentioned above make them appear to me thoroughly undeserving of being considered excellent, above the rest, or definitive.

#Jane Austen #Persuasion #annotated editions

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legallybrunettedotcom · 6 months ago

Note

Can you recommend some good film podcasts to listen to?

for sure. i can't say that i follow any of these like super religiously, but i'd say all of these are pretty neat and now it's just a matter of which hosts/guests don't annoy you lol. also if anyone else has any more recs, do tell! :) the next picture show is roundtable discussions examining how classic films influence and inspire modern films so you’ll have something like all the president’s men and spotlight comparisons or the wicker man and the vvitch. cool for double feature movie nights.

the big picture has reviews, especially of latest movies, but they also talk about some arthouse stuff. they also do these like top 5 lists, oscars analysis etc. roundtables and interesting guests

the rewatchables both the big picture and the rewatchables are from the ringer website/network so hosts and guests overlap. it’s what it says on the tin. they rewatch movies and then do all these categories, personally my favourite and i think they're very funny.

you must remember this host does incredible research, it’s really about like secret and forgotten histories of 20th century hollywood. they did like a 12 part series on eroticism and sex in 80s cinema, now they moved onto the erotic 90s.

sleepover cinema is super fun and definitely the type of podcast i would want to have, just two friends talking about late 90s/early 2000s movies and pop culture in general that sort of shaped the collective unconscious of “girls and gays” as they say.

intermission from the cinegogue is super chill. they just invite guests and ask them a bunch of movie questions in a way that you would ask a friend, yk like if you could watch movies from only one country which one would you choose, or like favourite nepo baby director. but they also do reviews. blank check cover entire filmographies of directors

black on black cinema for black film reviews and discussions

reel asian podcast for asian and asian american film reviews and discussions

a piece of pie for lgbt films and topics and subtext and such

junkfood cinema for shitty and cult movies. also how did this get made is about bad movies we love.

space brains for science fiction

final girls horrorcast for horror, sci-fi, thrillers both well known and obscure

filmspotting and the film cast for reviews of new and old as well

sardonicast does pretty much everything

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literaryvein-reblogs · 8 months ago

Text

A List of Poetic Terms

anaphora the repetition of a word or phrase, usually at the beginning of a line.

alliteration the repetition of sounds in a sequence of words.

allegory narrative with two levels of meaning, one stated and one unstated.

apostrophe direct address to an absent or otherwise unresponsive entity (someone or something dead, imaginary, abstract, or inanimate).

assonance the repetition of vowel-sounds.

beat a stressed (or accented) syllable.

binary dual, twofold, characterized by two parts.

blank verse unrhymed iambic pentameter.

caesura an audible pause internal to a line, usually in the middle. (An audible pause at the end of a line is called an end-stop.) The French alexandrine, Anglo-Saxon alliterative meter, and Latin dactylic hexameter are all verse forms that call for a caesura.

chiasmus from the Greek letter Chi ( Χ ), a "crossed" rhetorical parallel. That is, the parallel form a:b::a:b changes to a:b::b:a to become a chiasmus.

climax the high point; the moment of greatest tension or intensity. The climax can occur at any point in a poem, and can register on different levels, e.g. narrative, rhetorical, or formal.

consonance the repetition of consonant-sounds.

couplet two lines of verse, usually rhymed. Heroic couplet: a rhymed iambic pentameter couplet.

diction word choice, specifically the "class" or "kind" of words chosen.

elegy since the 17th century, usually denotes a reflective poem that laments the loss of something or someone.

end-stopped line a line that ends with a punctuation mark and whose meaning is complete.

enjambed line a "run-on" line that carries over into the next to complete its meaning.

foot the basic unit of accentual-syllabic and quantitative meter, usually combining a stress with one or more unstressed syllables.

free verse poetry in which the rhythm does not repeat regularly.

imagery the visual (or other sensory) pictures used to render a description more vivid and immediate.

meter a regularly repeating rhythm, divided for convenience into feet.

metonomy a figure of speech in which something is represented by another thing that is commonly and often physically associated with it, e.g. "White House" for "the President."

ode a genre of lyric, an ode tends to be a long, serious meditation on an elevated subject.

prosody the study of versification, i.e. the form—meter, rhyme, rhythm, stanzaic form, sound patterns—into which poets put language to make it verse rather than something else.

refrain a phrase or line recurring at intervals. The definition does not require that a refrain include the entire line, nor that it recur at regular intervals, though refrains often are and do.

rhythm the patterns of stresses, unstressed syllables, and pauses in language. Regularly repeating rhythm is called meter.

scansion the identification and analysis of poetic rhythm and meter. To "scan" a line of poetry is to mark its stressed and unstressed syllables.

simile a figure of speech that compares two distinct things by using a connective word such as "like" or "as."

speaker the "I" of a poem, equivalent to the "narrator" of a prose text. In lyric poetry, the speaker is often an authorial persona.

speech act the manner of expression (as opposed to the content). Examples of speech acts include: question, promise, plea, declaration, and command.

stanza a “paragraph” of a poem: a group of lines separated by extra white space from other groups of lines.

symbol an image that stands for something larger and more complex, often something abstract, such as an idea or a set of attitudes.

symbolism the serious and relatively sustained use of symbols to represent or suggest other things or ideas. (Distinct from allegory in that symbolism does not depend on narrative.)

synecdoche a figure of speech in which a part of something is used to represent the whole, e.g. “wheels” for “car.”

tone the speaker’s or author’s attitude toward the reader, addressee, or subject matter. The tone of a poem immediately impresses itself upon the reader, yet it can be quite difficult to describe and analyze.

topos a traditional theme or motif (e.g. the topos of modesty).

trope a figure of speech, such as a metaphor (trope is often used, incorrectly, to mean topos)

valediction an act or utterance of farewell.

If these writing notes helped with your poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them!

More: Word Lists

#poetry #literature #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #writing prompt #creative writing #poem #lit #words #writing reference #writing resources #langblr #studyblr #terminology

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gothhabiba · 8 days ago

Note

What people miss with regards to the Jordan Neely/Daniel Penny story is that Penny didn’t choke him out because he’s a bad person. He did it because of socioeconomic factors which made him desperate. The alternative to him being found not guilty would be him going to prison, and that wouldn’t have been justice. Penny needs to be treated with grace and care in this undoubtably troubling time for him

I think my scambaiting post must be going around because I'm getting some asks about it. I'm mostly just deleting them if they're not interesting or instructive, but I think this one actually might be.

My OP made a gesture at a materialist analysis which should be performed. This material analysis would have to do with the flow of money, labour, and resources as it actually exists in the world: the extraction, extortion, and theft of raw materials; the purposeful, violent destabilisation of entire regions by the military arms of the USA, Canada, Europe &c. to force people to work for pennies, so that labour will be incredibly cheap compared to what it would cost if performed by most citizens in the imperial 'core'; and other measures that are taken to ensure that value flows from colonised nations to colonising nations. (These measures also include the devaluing of institutions in the 'periphery' such that advanced degrees from certain countries are simply worth less than others; and the restricted ability of those in the 'periphery' to travel or migrate across borders with the freedom afforded to those with imperial citizenship.)

So certain people are in a situation where structures and enforcers of power have made them poor and desperate on purpose so that they can be 'superexploited' at a level beyond that experienced by most people in the imperial 'core'. This is the purpose of imperialism, and it's the purpose of the concept of 'race.' People work in factories for very little money, because the imperial periphery is supposedly only good for the production of raw materials (fabric; t-shirt blanks; assembly of parts of electronics &c.); the design, the artisanship, the packaging, the 'refining,' the making of the chocolate bar from the cocoa, everything that confers 'value' to the item, is done in the imperial core, and that increased 'value' / sale price is added to the GDP of the country in which the product is completed.

In fact this 'raw material' is not 'raw' at all, and it also invovles design and artisanship—but the people of the 'third world' cannot 'design' anything and they cannot be 'artisans'—nothing they make can be labelled as 'handmade' or 'hand-sewn' even if it is literally made with their hands—because they are not considered as people in that way.

But that's the product realm. In terms of the internet (even setting aside the physical materials, space, energy, water &c. required to maintain the internet):

Things (such as Amazon's failed "Just Walk Out" thing) are advertised as "artificial intelligence" despite the fact that thousands of people in India are forced to do work that is tedious, time-consuming, and often horrific and traumatising (consider content moderation!!) in order to make them work. Their material conditions—which are created and maintained, in the most violent manner imaginable, on purpose in order to force them to do this work—render many people desperate enough to take these jobs.

If there are people, who are reachable online, who at a baseline are making a hundred times what you are making, whose currency has incredible purchasing power where you live, and you can get some of that money—if you can work for yourself this way, obviously you're going to do that. This happens because there's money to be made in it. If people can set up an operation and train hundreds of people in how to do this, and take most of the profits and still provide a salary that's attractive to people because of how high the margins are, then obviously that's going to happen. This is just, the concept of capitalism. If there is a way to make money doing something, someone is going to be doing that thing.

Material analysis is looking at the world as it actually exists, in order to figure out how materials, labour, and value are 'flowing' on local and global scales, as a means of determining why things happen the way they do. Like, on a base level, that's what it means to analyse something—to try to figure out why it happens the way it does.

This anon, in sending this ask, didn't understand what any of this meant, or didn't want to consider it, or something. They were unable or unwilling to consider a different lens than that of personal desert, personal merit, and innate personal badness / criminality. The concept of trying to understand where money is, how it moves and why, as a base level of knowledge necessary to understand why there is money to be made in doing certain things, doesn't compute to them—so they have to move things back into the realm of personal desert, and act like I'm saying that people who commit acts of interpersonal violence "deserve" to be allowed to commit that violence as long as they're going through something, whether or not the thing they're going through created the necessary circumstances for, or has any other direct relation with, the act of violence being committed (basically "some people commit violence to cope").

All of that is kind of typical—it's very normal for people to act like asking them to consider people in the 'third world' as actual human beings with human things like "circumstances" and "motivations" and "thoughts" that influence their actions is tantamount to spitting in their grandmother's face.

But what's most interesting to me about this ask is how, in order to dismiss the idea of material analysis as necessary to understand why things happen and to reassert an interpretive framework of individual criminality, anon uses the idea of interpersonal racial violence as something that we can all agree is caused by innate criminality and not by material factors. As if by comparing scamming to this act of violence, it emphasises the innate criminal personality at the root of both acts. As if, obviously, we can all agree that people who commit this kind of violence are just evil demons who "deserve" to be locked up—so saying "the material fact of present-day colonialism creates the conditions for this kind of scamming" is tantamount to saying "we shouldn't lock criminals up in prison." If the latter statement is unthinkable, then so, by comparison, is the former.

Except that this concept of "the criminal" as being a specific "type" of person who uniquely does and deserves evil, and who needs to be locked up in a cage for the good of the rest of society, is exactly what I am, in fact, intending to question. I think the anon would be surprised to learn about the vast body of work (I mean texts, but also direct activism) conducted under the heading of "prison abolition."

#Anonymous #scambaiting #long post /#antiblack violence /

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