#or perhaps the novel

[cantsayidont]

THE NAME OF THE ROSE (1986): Long, disappointingly unfocused, frequently unappetizing adaptation of the Umberto Eco novel, starring Sean Connery as the impishly named Brother William of Baskerville, a highly intellectual Franciscan monk of the 13th century who visits a Benedictine monastery with his young novice Adso (Christian Slater), hoping to find a mundane explanation for a series of mysterious deaths before the Church sends in an inquisitor (F. Murray Abraham) to look for demonic scapegoats.

It starts off well, but it loses focus on the mystery with an extended late second-act shift into the evils of the Inquisition and schisms in the Church, which so derails the plot that the movie never recovers, rendering the eventual solution to the mystery something of a damp squib. Connery is marvelous — he makes William's powers of ratiocination entirely convincing, and his avuncular mentor relationship with Adso (which I have a feeling George Lucas watched with attention in writing the STAR WARS prequels) is appealing — but the still-gawky teenage Slater is terrible, the only significant female character (a horny peasant girl played by Valentina Vargas) never gets a name and has hardly any dialogue, and almost every character other than William and Adso is presented as a kind of Tod Browning grotesque — in particular a young and very hammy Ron Perlman as a mentally challenged hunchback named Salvatore who speaks in a weird pidgin of different languages. After a while, I found it increasingly hard to take, and the ending was unrewarding. CONTAINS LESBIANS? The characters are aware that gay people exist, but no. VERDICT: Almost worth it just for Connery, but by about the 90-minute mark, it feels like he's trying to hold back the tide.

[nyaa]

北へ。/ Kita e. White Illumination (1999) Sega Dreamcast

[cuubism]

i went to physical therapy for my stupid broken arm so as is my legal obligation i HAD to make ship content about it. everything is ship content that's how it is

cw injury, referenced abusive relationships

--

Hob's had plenty of clients come to physical therapy who clearly don't want to be there. Plenty of others who are reasonably frustrated by the work and time involved in regaining functioning after an injury. But this is the first time he's just had someone be... quiet. Resigned.

Dream sits with his hand cradled to his chest, barely speaking, only answering when Hob asks a direct question. He's reluctant to give Hob his hand when Hob asks if he can look at it, like he thinks Hob's grip is a bear trap that will snap down and crush the bones like whatever had done so the first time. Hob still doesn't know what that was. All he knows is the bones have been realigned and healed over but the dexterity in his hand still isn't right. That was what Dream had said, in the first spark of passion Hob had heard from him. It's not right.

But he does eventually give his hand over. His bones are so fine and delicate, and each movement hesitant. Cautious. Hob tests the flexibility. The strength. Dream is right, it's not where it should be. He still doesn't know what happened.

"I won't make you tell me if you really don't want to," Hob says gently. "But it is important to know how it happened to make sure we rehab it the right way. Did you get it caught in something? I've seen guys come in with machine injuries like that."

Nothing about Dream suggests "person who works with heavy machinery." But who knows. Hob will try not to stereotype.

"No," Dream says quietly, looking down and away from his hand like he can't bear to see it. "I. I am an artist. My ex... he felt that I cared more about my art than about him. Perhaps I did. And he was... frustrated. I suppose."

Hob can put the rest of the pieces together in his mind. "Jesus," he breathes, and Dream flinches.

"I have an unfortunate ability to involve myself with such people," he says.

"No, it's not your fault," Hob says automatically.

Dream narrows his eyes. "You presume to know that?"

Hob raises his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I won't pry." He's not Dream's therapist. His job is to help him with his hand, not... whatever else is going on in his life.

He takes Dream's hand carefully between both of his own again. Presses down lightly on his knuckles. "So. Crushed. Like that?"

Dream nods. Hob still doesn't know all the details, but he's imagining a boot going down hard on the top of Dream's hand. The thought is sickening.

"Can you fix it?" Dream asks, like he doesn't dare to hope.

"Well, you already had it repaired surgically, yeah?" Hob says. This strikes him as a bit of good luck--hand fractures are not simple--but he doesn't want to undercut Dream's confidence even further by saying so. He's usually pretty good at reading his clients, and he's already sensing that Dream is holding onto his determination to be here at all by the barest thread. Best to build him up as much as possible. "So it's just a matter of strengthening the muscles again."

He's fairly confident he can get him back to a usual level of functioning with it. The question is whether he can return him to the specific level of dexterity he needs for his art. He doesn't say that. Not yet.

Finally, he gets the tiniest of smiles out of Dream. He's really lovely when he smiles.

(He's pretty when he doesn't smile, too. Hob would have to be blind not to notice it.)

"So," Hob says. "Let's look at the current range of motion, yeah?"

Dream tilts his head. "Did you not already do so?"

"For regular motion, yeah. But I want to see where it's impacting your drawing."

Dream draws his hand back, looking uncertain.

"Come on." Hob hands him a pen and paper. "Show me. I promise I know nothing about art. If it's not up to your usual standards, I'm not going to be able to tell."

Finally, Dream takes the pen, and starts sketching.

Hob watches, noting the way his hand trembles, his uneven grip on the pen. Notes how quickly he gets demoralized when it doesn't turn out the way he wants. Hob can make out what he's written and drawn, but it's clear from Dream's expression that it's far from how it's supposed to be.

"This is just a starting point," Hob reminds him. He has a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of those sorts of reminders with Dream; he does not seem to find optimism easy.

Then again, if someone who supposedly loved him had hurt him like that, Hob would probably find optimism a bit difficult, too.

Finally, Dream drops the pen, clearly frustrated. "I have tried to paint at home, too. It has not turned out any better. You should throw those away." He gestures to the sketches. "They are terrible."

"Nah, I'm gonna keep them," Hob says, and puts them in his folder. "For comparison later." It could also partially be because he finds Dream's drawings of cats, imperfect as they are, charming. Sue him.

"As you insist," Dream says.

Hob gives him documentation on some other exercises he can do at home. Tries to think through what might make him feel better with his art. It feels, somehow, so important to make him feel better.

"At home, go easy on trying to use a pen, or paintbrush or whatever, it's hard on your hand," he finally says. "But you probably want to get back to your art, so-- okay, don't make fun of me if this is stupid."

Dream just raises an eyebrow, waiting.

Maybe Hob should try to learn more about art before he gives advice. Nevertheless, he forges on. "Holding a pen is tough, but if you wanted to like, finger paint or something? That would probably be fine. Might be good for flexibility, even."

"Finger paint," Dream repeats, enunciating each word.

"I told you not to make fun of me if it was stupid."

Dream smiles, just a small thing, like he finds Hob ridiculous but in a charming way. Good enough, Hob figures.

"Very well," Dream says at last. "I will take your advice."

Dream simply walking out had felt like a distinct possibility, so Hob will take this as a win.

"Hey," he says later, catching Dream for a moment as he's checking him out. "It's going to get better, yeah? Trust me. Don't worry too hard, just give it time."

He really shouldn't make promises like that. But he can't seem to help it, with Dream.

Dream considers, then says. "I do trust you."

Hob finds that it means a lot. Now he's just going to have to earn it.

[nevertheless-moving]

unable to stop dwelling on the discworld trouser leg of time where, in the penultimate fight scene in Nightwatch, Carcer manages to kill teenage Sam Vimes.

Which means that the future that Duke Vimes came from can no longer exist, which means he can’t go home. Meanwhile you’ve got a bunch of history monks with stored up temporal energy, a prepared space outside of time, and the need to do some desperate damage control before the Auditors get involved. Death shows up, reality is unweaving, Sam is reading Carcer his discworld miranda rights because what else is he supposed to do.

and finally, with little other option, the monks de-age Sam so he fits the time period and send him back out into the fray.

(they didn't call it deageing of course. His memory is hazy, splintered during that terrible in between moment, They....took the time out of him? Sanded away the edges of his self for a terrible, workable fit? It...wasn't a good feeling.)

Just—damn. Sam Vimes having to live his whole crapsack life over again, but this time as his disillusioned-reillusioned, unwillingly-character-developed, noir-epic, Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes self. 

Younger (Older? He's never felt so Old, His steps so Childlike, reality twisting in his gut like one of Dibbler's pies) Sam Vimes walking around in a haze after the revolution. Desperate to go home, knowing he can’t. Wanting to drink. Knowing he can’t.

The whole precinct feels pity, he really took Keel’s death hard, hardly speaks except to do his job. Eventually he has to grit his teeth and start being present, because what else is there to do?

Resists the urge to drink until Colon takes the whole watch out to celebrate because -he’s going to be a father!

Come on Sammy, one drink won’t kill you— and after the first drink he’s cracking jokes and after the second hes smiling and after the third hes honestly the life of the party and sometime after that he’s crying about how he was going to be a father and my wife would be ashamed if she saw me drinking like this and— 

Oh shit, Did anyone else know he had a wife?? A PREGNANT wife??? What—aren’t you like 12—no you're 17 now aren't you but when did—

You guys n’ver met ’er—oh gods none if you ev’n know ‘er, is jus’ me...

What—when did you lose—

I lost her the same damn day I los’ ev’rythin else, whadya think...bleeding Carcer...the fuckin revolution...

So! That! Sam only vaguely remembers the night, but rumors travel faster than light on the disc, so by the next day the whole damn city knows about poor Sam brung low by the loss of his poor, tragic, pregnant wife, so young to be a widower, and the Seamstresses nod because they already knew, don’t ask them how, somethings you just have to know in that trade.

And his mother—I don’t know, sue me, I’m a time travel fiend but there’s something deeply intriguing about a man meeting his dead parent, who is somewhat younger than him, and stepping into the old relationship like a badly fitting thing that's supposed to fit well. She would know, right? How would she deal with her son’s impossible grief? Maybe she wouldn’t know—he spent most of the time out of the house, running with different street gangs, maybe he avoids her until she dies and lives with the guilt twice over. God, we don’t even know her name. There’s just so much narrative and emotional potential that I don’t even know where to start.

When he’s on duty, which is most time - it’s agonizing because at first he remembers cases, saves lives that would have been lost. But the more time passes, the hazier his memory because in the original timeline he was becoming an alcoholic. Fuck! A kid dies and he could have saved her if he hadn’t been such a drunk, if he had just remembered where the asshole lived, but it’s all a haze, and he wants to drown out his guilt, but that’s what caused this in the first place.

Good young Sammy, who spends his rare off-time in dusty libraries (and yes, the irony that he’s apparently Carrot now is not lost on him) reading gods-only-know.

It’s not like he can ask the wizards for help, cutthroat and vicious as they are now in the not-so-distant-past.

Good young Sam, who...talks to the Broken Drum’s pet Bouncer like he’s a real person and not a dumb rock? That’s a bit weird, but he’s a bit of a funny guy.

Good old Sam, who believed the testimony of the dwarf who said the humans were trying to rob him and let the dwarf go??

the PROBLEMS this man would cause, good grief. Can you imagine a moderately progressive middle aged man with some degree of begrudging diversity and equity training that he did, for all his sins, pay attention to, suddenly going back to like, 1990, going back just 30 years, and going...oh damn this is kind of fucked up, no man you can’t say that, holy shit.

Except Sam’s lived through even more rapidly shifting social moroes! There’s no seamstress guild, there’s no women allowed inside the university, there’s no black ribboner’s society. People hunted trolls for their teeth! But Sam can’t just unlearn everything, and he can’t shut up, and he has no real luck and anyway he would absolutely get himself (temporarily) fired.

FUCK. Sam has no idea what to do with that. None. Zero clue. Wanders around in a haze until that dwarf he saved from police brutality finds him and insists on repaying the debt. No, he insists, do you have any idea what debt means to a dwarf?

“Sort-of?” he replies hesitantly, and that honest admission of incomplete knowledge shows a hell of a lot more respect and understanding than any self proclaimed dwarf-expert ever did.

Gets a job as a surface man, hauling rocks into the city. It’s backbreaking work, but, in true Discworld fashion, it’s also one hell of a workout (again the irony of being Carrot is not lost him. he freezes for a minute while hauling a rock cart, when he remembers he's technically Lost Nobility too, in a strict sense, but someone curses at him in the street and he's comfortingly grounded)

And here is where this au slides into a SPECTACULAR romantic comedy, BEAR WITH ME. Because in his time on the Watch he’s already done noir, action adventure, war story, detective who dunnit, psychological horror, but guards guards only allowed him to be a romance protagonist in an extremely limited context.

Give me righteous, twenty-something-looking, can’t-say-he-doesn’t-have-style, young Sam Vimes, not an alcoholic,  being fed three square meals a day by his dwarven forced found family, hauling rocks. He is startled to find him bumping his head on a low hanging bar that he doesn’t think used to be there, eventually realizing that he’s an inch or two taller than he remembers. Huh. Guess all that bearhuggers really did stunt his growth.

Still doesn’t get what some of the looks from women he’s getting are about, sure, he’s dirty but so is everyone else. Fine, he took his shirt off, but it’s hot out, there’s far wrinklier than him hauling heavy loads, get a life. 

Happens to glance in the Ankh one day when it’s particularly slow and shiny and is startled to realize that he might be turning heads for a different reason. Oh. Right, not that he was ever a heartbreaker, but he did alright for himself... when he was a younger and his face hadn’t been broken so many times. Which...it isn't now.

Is mildly disturbed by the revelation.

Especially once things blow over at the precinct and what with high mortality rates, he ends up with getting hired again. The boys are delighted to have him back, nevermind that he’s an odd one, noone is ever quite in your corner like Vimsey, absence makes the heart fonder, no one else works that hard, and he’s not even competition for promotion. All around great guy, we should set him up with somebody and just, no.

It just keeps getting worse! He’s literate! He’s a feminist! He believes abuse victims! He’s got a tragic backstory! He’s unreasonably good in a fistfight! He’s kind to animals! Word gets around that there’s a good man on the watch and he’s just waiting for a good woman to come snap him up. The widower excuse doesn’t hold people off completely, and for some it’s its own sort-of appeal. 

Things REALLY become stressful after he rescues that carriage full of noblewoman.

What’s he supposed to do? Let them get robbed? Or worse? Chasing down and beating up 10 goons is as easy as beating up one, when they’re that stupid, getting separated like that, drunk and distracted, and he knows these streets better than anyone, really it’s nothing. And oh lord he’s Modest too.

I mean, they were genuinely greatful, as genuine as people like that are capable of being, the skill having grown rusty. And then there is something...magnetic about the man. An air of command.

So, soon enough you get Lady Marigold of Marigrave calling on Treckle Road for that gallant young officer who rescued them, she really needs to thank him. And Viscountess Elanor Thitzferal specifically requesting that he guard her at her next soiree. And Baroness Julieta van Shoeholten insisting that he come to her home while her husband’s away, for... manly protection.

Aaaah just zero sympathy from the guys. None. 'It’s become a competition, they’re just trying to see who can get me into bed first, it’s like I’m a piece of meat, you can’t send me sir, the Marquess greeted me in a nightee last time you made me go to—' and 'small gods Vimes are you even listening to yourself, shut the hell up'.

Simultaneous to this, (again this is several years into the timeline) swamp dragon accessories come into style. Which means abandoned swamp dragons scrounging on the street. Vimes takes one back to his apartment, blows his paycheck on dragon medicine, and eventually, heart in his chest, brings it to the Ramkin estate. The sunshine orphanage doesn’t even exist yet and he’s just standing outside the gates like an idiot, what is he thinking. Turns around, but her carriage is pulling up and—

well. they meet. it's cute. he's never felt so young. he's never felt so old, too old for her, too poor—

and certainly her thoughts linger too long on the awkward, kindly, handsome young commoner, but is it any wonder she doesn't quite connect it to the stern, dangerous, sexy young guard the ladies seem to be in some quiet, cuthroat competition over?

i have this gorgeous, absurd scene in my head in which Vimes is strong armed into standing guard at some high society soiree and one of the pushiest ladies insists he dance with here, or, if he prefers, if he's not confident about his skills, he can dance with her in-private at her home and he’s like [grinding teeth, looking for a way out, seeinf one] “I would be honored to dance with you.”

Steps right into some ultra-complex dance with multiple partner swaps (she never thought he'd pick this one, devilishly intimidating to one not strictly trained, and you barely spend anytime with your first partner).

But he does alright. Better than alright, for a common man, sometimes misstepping but his hands and feet always end up where they need to be. Raises several eyebrows part way into the song because he's throuwing in some slightly scandalous, no innovative, extra lifts and twirls that wouldn't become fashionable for another decade or two. Who even is that guy? Some out of towner? No, no he's in a guards uniform...how very strange.

Gets to Sybll and she's used to embarrassment during these dances, she tries to get out of them when she can... but can't always. Men awkwardly skipping the lifts, or worse, trying and failing. But him — oh it's him, the one who helped little Erold, and looked at her like—like—well like she was someone beautiful. And he's doing it again, and he's strong and there's a quiet moment where she's in the air, they lock eyes, and the rest of the room melts away.

And then the partners change again, the moment ended.

Just...living throught it all again. To the left, a dance he almost knows the steps to, throwing others off balance with erratic moves , honest mistakes, and delibrate stepping on toes. Improvising. Ruining. Improving. Getting far, far too much attention.

Hes almost excited when the first assassains start coming after him. It's like a hobby.

Everyone tells him he should get a hobby.

Interactions with young vetinari...I don't have the energy to write it all down, the slow circling in on each other, both burning with the need to fix the city, save it, their city.

needless to say he ends up fired again, life under real threat after offending some high lord.

Conveniently enough he has an employment opportunity- bodyguard to fucking Vetinari on his 'grand sneer.' The bastard knows vimes isn't what he seems, though sam is pretty sure that he doesnt know the exacts.

Vetinari hypothesis:(the ghost of keel? Keels son, with some hereditary curse? Or a larger spirit of justice possessing a string of unrelated souls? He knows things he shouldn't- mind reader? Fortune teller? Havelock once arranged for a wizard to bump into him on the street, the magical fool gave an odd double look and then muttered something about destiny looping in on itself giving him a headache. Destiny? Lost noble? And hes far too familiar with sybyl, one of the few bearable noblewomen in this city. And his thoughts on guilds, when havelock can trip him into speaking... Most of all, if hes reading him at all correctly (for all the mystery hes not that hard to read, unless thats a very clever cover) then it seems that behind those dark haunted eyes is Respect. Loyalty. For vetinari. What an interesting man. A puzzling asset. An intriguing threat. )

Did I mention the timeline is changing, healing slowly around the place where it was torn? Healing enough around scars to perhaps get some flexibility back, with some painful stretches and...massaging of said scar tissue?

And hes heading to unresting uberwald, a place where a werewolf pack still hunts humans and, truely unrelated but perhaps equally exhausting, an eldritch spirit of vengeance just might be looking to stretch its legs in a hapless vessel?

Opening drabble Vimes Vetinari Meta (Unwell) Scene from the Uberwald Grand Sneer

[gammija]

love listening to sherlock&co while having only the faintest idea about the source material. everyones having opinions on Mary while im just here like 'she seems nice i hope she and John have fun 😺'

[sharkpng5]

Ermmm day 22: favorite adaptation

@lotftober2024

At least he’s ginger.

[felix-lupin]

In Coraline, there’s a recurring theme with names and identity, and I personally don't think it's talked about enough. 

(As a note, this is dealing largely with the book, not the movie, although there are some hints of this theme in the movie as well)

Coraline’s neighbors constantly get her name wrong, calling her “Caroline” and not “Coraline”, to which she persistently corrects them. Despite her attempts, they never get it right, until chapter 10, in which Mr Bobo (Mr Bobinsky) finally gets it right.

"It's Coraline, Mister Bobo," said Coraline. "Not Caroline. Coraline." "Coraline," said Mr Bobo, repeating her name to himself with wonderment and respect. "Very good, Coraline."

It should be noted that, until this chapter, Coraline did not know Mr Bobo’s name either. In fact, it had never even occurred to her that he had a name. Up until then, she had just been thinking of him as “the crazy old man upstairs”, not as a person with a name. This moment, with her learning his name and him getting her name right, is a moment of genuine understanding and connection between the two, humanizing them both to each other.

Coraline’s other neighbors get her name wrong, which is representative of them not listening when she says anything, really, such as her telling Miss Spink and Forcible that her parents are missing and them literally not even acknowledging it at all??

"How are your dear mother and father?" asked Miss Spink. "Missing," said Coraline. "I haven't seen either of them since yesterday. I'm on my own. I think I've probably become a single child family." "Tell your mother that we found the Glasgow Empire press clippings we were telling her about. She seemed very interested when Miriam mentioned them to her." "She's vanished under mysterious circumstances," said Coraline, "and I believe my father has as well." "I'm afraid we'll be out all day tomorrow, Caroline lovely," said Miss Forcible. "We'll be staying with April's niece in Royal Tunbridge Wells."

Mr Bobo gets her name right after being corrected (only after being corrected alongside her using his name, mind you, showcasing her making an effort to listen to and understand him as well), which is representative of him actually making an attempt to listen and understand her. This point is further illustrated by a conversation Coraline had with the Other Mr Bobo in chapter 10.

As Coraline entered he began to talk. "Nothing's changed, little girl," he said, his voice sounding like the noise dry leaves make as they rustle across a pavement. "And what if you do everything you swore you would? What then? Nothing's changed. You'll go home. You'll be bored. You'll be ignored. No one will listen to you, not really listen to you. You're too clever and too quiet for them to understand. They don't even get your name right."

He equates those in the real world not getting Coraline’s name right with them not listening to her, and fundamentally not understanding who she is. So, somebody getting her name right, then, shows them actually listening to her, and being willing to understand who she is.

The mice in the real world know more than they should be able to know, and they also get Coraline’s name right.

"The message is this. Don't go through the door." He paused. "Does that mean anything to you?" "No," said Coraline. The old man shrugged. "They are funny, the mice. They get things wrong. They got your name wrong, you know. They kept saying Coraline. Not Caroline. Not Caroline at all."

They seem to know about the other world, somehow, on some level, and the dangers it presents. Them getting her name right represents them knowing more than they should know, more than they are told. Animals in general seem to have this type of quality in Coraline, actually.

The cat does not have a name. It says so in chapter 4, that cats do not need names. It says that this is because cats know who they are. But humans need names, because they do not.

"Please. What's your name?" Coraline asked the cat. "Look, I'm Coraline. OK?" The cat yawned softly, carefully, revealing a mouth and tongue of astounding pinkness. "Cats don't have names," it said. "No?" said Coraline. "No," said the cat. "Now, you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names."

The cat shook its head. "No," it said. "I'm not the other anything. I'm me." It tipped its head on one side; green eyes glinted. "You people are spread all over the place. Cats, on the other hand, keep ourselves together. If you see what I mean."

This shows that, in humans, names are connected to our identities and who we are. Names are used to individualize and distinguish ourselves from each other. But cats do not need names to recognize each other, or be recognized.

"Oh. It's you," she said to the black cat. "See?" said the cat. "It wasn't so hard recognising me, was it? Even without names."

With or without names, it is still the same cat.

During the Other Miss Spink and Forcible’s performance, in chapter 4, they begin quoting Shakespeare. The specific quotes that they use are interesting to me when looked at under this lens of the importance of names, especially Miss Forcible’s.

"What's in a name?" asked Miss Forcible. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"I know not how to tell thee who I am," said Miss Spink to Miss Forcible.

Now, of course, this is just them quoting Shakespeare. But. Why these quotes specifically? They’re at the very least notable when discussing Coraline’s recurring theme of names. Especially the quote about the rose. It makes me think of what the cat said earlier, about how cats are sure of who they are so they don’t need names, about how Coraline didn’t need the cat’s name to be able to recognize it for who/what it was.

But, of course, this does not apply for humans. We need our names to be able to know ourselves, to be able to tell others who they are.

In chapter 6, Coraline wakes up and is disoriented. This disorientation is compared to the feeling one might experience upon being suddenly pulled out of a daydream. In this comparison, forgetting one’s name is equated with forgetting who one is and where one is.

Sometimes Coraline would forget who she was while she was daydreaming that she was exploring the Arctic, or the Amazon rainforest, or darkest Africa, and it was not until someone tapped her on the shoulder or said her name that Coraline would come back from a million miles away with a start, and all in the fraction of a second have to remember who she was, and what her name was, and that she was even there at all. Now there was the sun on her face, and she was Coraline Jones. Yes.

The ghost children have also forgotten their names, and with it most of who they were. In chapter 7, when Coraline is locked behind the mirror in the Other World, one of the ghost children says that names are the first things that one forgets after death.

"Who are you?" whispered Coraline. "Names, names, names," said another voice, all faraway and lost. "The names are the first thing to go, after the breath has gone, and the beating of the heart. We keep our memories longer than our names. I still keep pictures in my mind of my governess on some May morning, carrying my hoop and stick, and the morning sun behind her, and all the tulips bobbing in the breeze. But I have forgotten the name of my governess, and of the tulips too." "I don't think tulips have names," said Coraline. "They're just tulips." "Perhaps," said the voice sadly. "But I have always thought that these tulips must have had names. They were red, and orange-and-red, and red-and-orange-and-yellow, like the embers in the nursery fire of a winter's evening. I remember them."

The ghost children may have their memories, but they have largely forgotten who they were. They may remember their tulips, and certain strong memories, but there is very, very little left of them, and they have forgotten who they once were, they have forgotten their names.

"That is why we could not leave here, when we died. She kept us, and she fed on us, until now we're nothing left of ourselves, only snakeskins and spider-husks. Find our secret hearts, young mistress."

"She will take your life and all you are and all you care'st for, and she will leave you with nothing but mist and fog. She'll take your joy. And one day you'll awake and your heart and soul will have gone. A husk you'll be, a wisp you'll be, and a thing no more than a dream on waking, or a memory of something forgotten."

The Other Mother stole their hearts and their souls and their selves. She stole who they were away from them, their identities and names and the names of those they loved, leaving nothing in her wake.

The same ghost that talked about the tulips and the names of the tulips struggles to answer when Coraline asks their gender, as well, and when they do eventually give an answer they seem somewhat unsure of it, as shown by the word choice of “perhaps” and “I believe”

"A boy, perhaps, then," continued the one whose hand she was holding. "I believe I was once a boy." And it glowed a little more brightly in the darkness of the room behind the mirror.

(I personally take this quote, specifically it "glow[ing] a little more brightly" after coming to this conclusion, to mean either that the ghost is happy at realizing that he was once a boy, or even to mean that he has become somewhat more tangible upon this realization; upon remembering something about his self, and his identity.)

As an aside, it's noteworthy to me that we never learn the Other Mother’s true name. She is simply “The Other Mother” and “The Beldam.” Never is an actual name applied to her, only titles. We do not truly know who, or what, she is. Beings without names are shrouded in mystery (or should i say mist-ery). The ghost children are benevolent mysterious beings, the cat is an ambivalent-leaning-helpful mysterious being, and the other mother is a distinctly malevolent mysterious being.

"Who are you?" asked Coraline. "I'm your other mother," said the woman.

"She?" "The one who says she's your other mother," said the cat. "What is she?" asked Coraline. The cat did not answer, just padded through the pale mist beside Coraline.

But in conclusion, names in Coraline are extremely important. I’m sure there’s probably more that I'm missing, and feel free to add onto this, but basically—

People need names to know and remember who they are, and forgetting one’s name is the first step to losing the rest of who one is. Names humanize a person; with a name, they are less shrouded in mystery, more clear.

Knowing somebody's name helps one connect to and better understand that person; it is the first step in getting to know them and see them as a full person, the transition from “the crazy man upstairs” to “Mr Bobo”. Names, to people at least, are one of the fundamental building blocks of who we are.

[thirdeyeblue]

“Nine would have treated Martha better than Ten did”

I need to talk about this argument that never seems to stop circulating.

Note: Not a venomous/anti post. There’s more than enough of that across fandom spaces as is, and this is supposed to be a place for ✨sweet, blissful escapism✨

When making this argument, people seem to envision a scenario in which Nine never met Rose.

While I can appreciate a good hypothetical, recognizing Rose's significance to the Doctor (Nine and Ten) is essential to understanding why things with Martha played out the way they did in the first place.

In the third series, the Doctor is grieving. This grief is deliberately threaded into nearly every script, whether spoken aloud or not (and these are just a few examples):

He's burning in Rose’s wake the entire time Martha travels with him, which is why it’s so frequently called upon: It’s 100% deliberate in framing his grief. He grieved as Nine too, of course— having been fresh on the heels of the Time War — but then he met Rose, which changed everything.

Back then, he was still a rude, traumatized pain in the ass, but we watch Rose soften more of those jagged edges with every episode as they grow closer; as he lets his guard down and forms a deep connection with her.

He falls in love (against his better judgment) and it's game over.

And yes: provided S1E1 had been titled 'Martha', one can realistically assume things might have unfolded similarly to how they did with Rose. However, it wouldn’t have been that way just because the Doctor was Nine and “Nine was different” — it would be because he wasn’t already in love with someone else. The same can't be said for the start of S3.

Think of it like this: if Rose AND Martha had been in that cellar — if Nine had taken both of them along with him in S1 — we’d eventually be looking at the most melodramatic love triangle ever, what with him living in close quarters with two brilliant, gorgeous, compassionate young women... But Doctor Who is plenty “soap opera” as is with just one woman in the TARDIS.

(I certainly wouldn’t object to reading that fic, though)

Now, regarding the unrequited elephant in the room…

His inability to be romantic with Martha isn’t because he thinks her lesser, nor is it for lack of compatibility. It isn't because Rose is any better than her. It certainly isn’t just because he’s Ten.

It’s really only for one reason, which can't be denied — and now I’m a broken record:

He is still in love with Rose.

(cut from a tenrosedaily gif)

Nine is Ten, and Ten is only such a mess in S3 because he’s just lost the love of his life. Martha merely got caught in the crosshairs of a volatile Time Lord in mourning, and yes — it sucks. Absolutely.

But it also feels dismissive to chalk Ten and Martha’s relationship up to little more than some sort of mindless dance of pining, jealousy, and toxicity.

Ten trusted Martha with his life over and over again — and hers, with him. He constantly praised her brilliance, happily carting her around time and space with no intention of letting her go. In the BBC’s extended universe of novels/comics/cartoons/etc, there’s so much depth to their relationship: love and trust and trauma and sacrifice. They had their own special bond as mates, their own complexities — so it’s a bummer that it's forever overshadowed by the other things.

I’m not denying that there was a lot of stuff that sucked/was for sure toxic about Ten's S3 behavior, but so many of the things I've seen him catching flak for can be directly attributed to being A Clueless Fucking Alien Idiot (not a trait that’s unique to Ten) — as well as his flat-out obliviousness to Martha’s feelings.

So yes, I agree: if Rose never existed, he would have treated Martha differently as Nine. He also would have treated her differently as Ten. Certainly.

But Rose did exist, and when discussing canon, it matters.

“He tells me that he absolutely, 100% loves Rose... He tells me how my daughter; my wonderful, beautiful, clever little girl saved him from himself before… And he says that’s all because of me! I made her into the Rose Tyler that saved him.”

-Jackie Tyler, Flight Into Hull!

Martha got the short end of the stick in S3. She came round at the wrong place and time, but that doesn't mean it was all bad. It doesn't mean the Doctor didn’t adore her. It certainly doesn't mean the time they spent together was wasted or worthless. They were brilliant!

Sure, he could be a twat, but let it be known that he was a twat with Rose as well, both as Nine and Ten. I’m sure Tentoo can be plenty infuriating, too. So while I'll defend Ten (and Tentoo) into the ground forever and ever and ever, I'll concede that he's fucked up.

The Doctor is a certified Pain In The Ass. It’s one of the things I love so much about this character — dynamics.

But never forget that Martha was goddamn tough as nails and overcame every bit of it. She moved on with her life, and the Doctor moved on with his. One can only pray that, when they inevitably drag her back onto the show (which feels inevitable if I'm honest), we see at once that she's been living her best life for all these years.

[ahalliance]

just finished Nimona… DAMN does it feel good to watch such an openly queer movie man

[ariadne-mouse]

Alert: this is a very stupid post and not to be taken seriously.

So when it was revealed the first attack on Keyleth was Ludinus trying to test drawing out Vax, folks were pointing out that Ludinus would have had to stay up to date on Vox Machina romances in order to have the information to make that plan, which is very funny. I posit an additional hypothetical: if the preliminary attack had accidentally been fatal for Keyleth herself (I say accidentally because Ludinus would want to wait to execute the plan in full later, so wouldn't have killed her then) then Ludinus would have lost his bait and would have to figure out another way to draw out Vax.

And you know what that means. Matchmaking. Get the sad bird man to fall in love again so he can threaten the new person. Ludinus using every iota of his skill in manipulation and patience and influencing of events to set up Situations, and he needs it because as a celestial champion Vax is not just walking around into your average coffee shop. He becomes the king of tropes. He reads trash romance to get ideas and runs into Caleb at a naughty book store in Rexxentrum and it's very awkward for both of them. With centuries of experience and villainy, HOW has it come to this-

[corallapis]

DOCTOR: He'd see me dead tomorrow. MASTER: Gladly, Doctor. [looking to the Valeyard] But I'm not prepared to countenance a rival.

[tnbc-thoughtsandheadcanons]

TNBC News (10/30)

So first off, Sally has been officially revealed for Disney Dreamlight Valley, and will be added into the game soon! It's mentioned we will have to 'puzzle out her latest premonition'. Super curious what her quests will be and if I can snag any good Jack/Sally moments from the game... :') I cannot WAIIIT to get her!!

On another note, Disney Magic Kingdoms has released a code for a free Nightmare Before Christmas chest in the game! It expires on Saturday, November 2nd, so be sure to visit this site and redeem your code! (You'll need your player ID, which I usually snag from the startup screen on the top left, code: MAGICAL) Good luck!

Finally, Sally's Lament: A Twisted Tale's audiobook will be released soon on November 12th! It is currently up for preorder!

I am 2 followers away from 7K followers on here..! Thank you all so much! I've always wanted to do a giveaway for follower count celebrations, I'll have to see if that's possible. Real excited for Sally in Dreamlight Valley!

[spriteofmushrooms]

The interesting thing about Jiang Cheng is that he refuses to be his mother's golden child to Wei Wuxian's scapegoat; he actively chooses Wei Wuxian again and again. He defends Wei Wuxian from her until she dies. It's unusual.

This doesn't mean that Wei Wuxian's experience was any less fraught--being hated by a caretaker is awful even if everyone else loves you. But it was an interesting choice by MXTX.

[writemeverything]

Someone please put an end to this coward self of mine.

[tiktaalic]

Fundamentally my problem with horror novels is that I am a misandrist and horror writers are men and dare I say. Misogynists

[dyed-indigo]

How many wives did Luo Bingge have?

I see quite a lot of debate over this within the fandom, and this excerpt has been passed around quite a bit:

But I felt like I remembered Bingge being mentioned as having more wives within the text, so I decided to skim the books (CTRL + F on the Internet Archive PDFs worked wonders) to find as many references to Bingge's wife count as I could.

I was right that he was mentioned as having more wives (hundreds to be exact), on the back of the very first book in the series even. However, the backs of books are the domain of the publisher rather than the author, so this isn't really trustworthy info to go off of for canon purposes. Still, it made me curious to see if more wives were mentioned somewhere else within the series.

He is mentioned as theoretically marrying at least 100 women at once here, however this was purely speculation on what would have happened in Proud Immortal Demon Way if Luo Binghe truly aspired for marriage. He did marry many women in PIDW, however it's never made clear whether these marriages were out of love or were political (and for horny reasons, the stallion protagonist can never escape his libido).

613 is also mentioned as a number of wives, and seems oddly specific unless there's some Chinese number symbolism I'm missing here, however this is just an example of something that Madame Meiyin could predict with her fortune telling abilities. Her fortunes are mentioned to typically be about romance, so this could be Shen Qingqiu remembering an actual prediction she made in canon, however even if that were the case (which there doesn't seem to be evidence to support) it could simply be that Luo Binghe never got those wives within the novel, and was just implied to get them afterwards (cue Peerless Cucumber rant about Airplane's lazy writing).

There's mentioned to be dozens of women "barely glimpsed" within the harem, presumably in addition to wives like Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan who were more significant, but that still doesn't give us an exact count. If the initial harem count is accurate, it does imply that most of the women within it were just written to fluff the numbers a bit.

Bingge is mentioned to have "never refused" any requests to join his harem. RIP Bingge's understanding of boundaries, but, again, we have no clue how many women even asked to join. Demon Emperors are powerful, but also scary, and Shen Qingqiu is... perhaps an unreliable narrator when it comes to any version of Luo Binghe's appeal factor.

Bingge is mentioned multiple times to have had sex with hundreds of women, however, not all of the bedded were wedded. Madame Meiyin, for example, is mentioned as someone that Bingge slept with but never married, and there's no evidence that i could find that she was the sole exception in a sea of wives.

In conclusion, while manwhore Bingge is real, his count of actual wives is more than likely less than 100, as originally specified. (Though I wouldn't blame you if you thought otherwise, the emphasis on the harem size being "innumerable" and "uncountable" in the narration is quite a lot, and historically many Chinese emperors had a larger harem than Bingge.)

At least, he had less than 100 wives in the novel. In the donghua, on the other hand...

Well. That's a fairly definite amount.