#wait is brute/victim MY gender???

[see-arcane]

Van Helsing Venting (Vent Helsing)

Requisite apology goes here: I am sorry in advance to everyone with a soft spot for the funky old man.

But the reread combined with the podcast has helped put into focus an aggravation that has been nettling me forever without quite knowing how to articulate it.

I’ve brushed the edges of it more than once in several rants about how the Harkers are so constantly given the short stick in every single adaptation of Dracula for a hundred and a quarter years.

Jonathan is either erased, made into a bore, a brute, or unceremoniously killed off while all the amazing character traits and actions he’s responsible for in the story get stolen away and parsed out to others in the cast, often Dracula, Van Helsing, or [INSERT FEMALE THROWN INTO THE CASTLE TO BE BRIDAL CARRIED TO BED HERE].

Mina is alternately a feeble damsel who’s only there to be the pure maiden who gets to live through her seduction*** by Dracula (versus the suddenly scandalous-and-salacious Lucy), or a hashtag girlboss (reincarnated wife syndrome applied as desired) who divorces or otherwise abandons her milksop husband to hook up with a REAL MAN like DRACULA who sexily sex-liberates her. With sex. That she totally for sure wanted along with the bloodsucking.

But on one thing, the Harkers are equal—they never. Ever. Ever. Get to be the true protagonists of any Dracula adaptation, or spinoff, or offshoot, or revamp, et cetera.

This, despite Jonathan being the one to spend the most time with Dracula, alone, in his gothic horror novella of an opening, for Two Months, in which he got the most interaction and dialogue with the Count out of anyone else in the book.

This, despite him and his diary and his love to the point of blasphemy and his nerve and his kukri all being instrumental for the novel to work.

This, despite Mina being the one to literally compile the entire novel out of the transcripts it’s stitched from.

This, despite her connecting the dots to oust the bastard and showing immense courage all on her lonesome in confronting the Count for others’ sake more than once.

But why?

For the longest time, I was ready to grind my teeth and grouse over the obvious reasons of Jonathan and Mina Harker being so gloriously subversive then—and now!—that writers and directors of a certain sneering bent refused to acknowledge anything of their characters beyond the names when slathering their latest cookie cutter vampire bodice ripper with Stoker’s cast titles. The Harkers’ approaches to gender, to heroism, to defeating a villain whose entire role is being the worst of the Gothic Masculine Monster who bullies and preys upon pretty victims to collect for himself (hello harem and power fantasy combo, let’s make THIS guy the ultra-cool totally misunderstood sexypire star of the show!) all chafe against the mental rewrites too many filmmakers and writers make to turn the novel more palatable to their tastes. Assuming they read the book at all.

And that’s all its own pile of rants. But I’ve realized, only now, that this is just part of the problem. The other issue stems from Bram Stoker himself.

That issue being the conversion of an otherwise tight narrative and set of primed protagonist characters into the Abraham van Helsing Show.

I don’t know what it was about today’s entry specifically that made it all click home. Maybe it was already percolating since yesterday, or the day before. But somewhere in Van Helsing’s latest filibuster of dialogue—‘We must share everything! No, wait, tell her nothing! We must make all haste and not lose a moment! Let me turn five minutes’ worth of information into a monologue about bloom and blood and then suggest we all take a siesta on our laurels since we definitely have time to beat the Czarina Catherine! Jonathan, you stay at home with Mina while me and my non-questioning ducklings/the others who don’t really need lines anyway take care of the problem, doctor’s orders! And all my orders are followed, unquestionably, every time, despite them very clearly having only a 50/50 success rate, as is right!’—it all really hit me.

The moment Van Helsing turned into the never-doubted, never-need-apologize, yes, do kiss his hands like a fucking mafia godfather in gratitude for Doing the Things He Should Have Known to Do in the First Place After Lucy, ‘leader’ rather than ‘the lore collector/mentor’ is when the novel turns on its heel and starts breaking its back to accommodate him at the expense of everyone else.

The Harkers get it the worst, naturally.

Once they arrive in Purfleet and the documents are handed over, Van Helsing leads the pack in peer pressuring them into sequestering Mina away as their cheerleader who Need Not Suffer the Icky Horror of -checks notes- finding boxes. Not sent away anyplace safe and guarded by home rules and garlic and crosses; just left to Yellow Wallpaper her days away in the asylum suite.

Meanwhile, Jonathan proves to be literally the only useful member of this group project via hauling ass all over London to gather information to bring back to the table…which Van Helsing then oh-so-helpfully disseminates on top of the obvious point that, hey, yeah, there’s probably boxes there. We should do Wafers about it.

Now, in fairness, Van Helsing was a vital character up to a certain point. Jack called him in for his broader expertise, for how open his mind was as far as what he was willing to investigate or believe as a threat. Without him and his lore collection in Amsterdam, a lot of the details regarding anti-vampire tactics and Dracula’s history lesson wouldn’t have come into play. All this, plus providing the hideous proof of the Bloofer Lady’s reality, making the last three nonbelievers into members of the Drac Attack Pack. Last but far from least, he helps reassure Jonathan to free him from his crushing self-doubt, and then brings in both of the Harkers to create the full group. Fuck yeah!

All that considered, it does make some sense for him alone to give his little seminar on the Dracula Issue…

…except for the fact that Mina has absorbed and transcribed all the info herself. Literally all of it. And the fact that Jonathan personally knows the fucker. All three of these characters should have been at the head of the table, sharing what they know.

But they weren’t. It’s starting to become all about Dr. Abe—because that’s how Stoker keeps his OC self insert in the lion’s share of the spotlight.

This is also when Van Helsing is fresh off the nightmare with Lucy, fresh off of acknowledging that there is literally no reason at all to keep vampire secrets from anybody in this room, fresh off of being oh so thrilled with Mina’s helpfulness and canniness, fresh off of what should have been him learning his lesson and—in open-minded fashion—cutting off any benignly sexist chivalry at the knees to keep Mina in the loop and share the mastermind role.

And what does he decide?

Off to the tower, princess. It’s man work time! Man work here meaning: Investigate some scary dirt. Some rats are there. Everyone break up some Christ crackers, men. Thank God Mina isn’t here to suffer this, amirite? Oh, and Jonathan, be a dear and gather all the information on Dracula’s locations and properties while me and the others…do whatever. Read? Smoke? Something. Anyway, attaboy, such a good hard worker you are, Only Non-Titled Fresh-From-the-Lower-Class Man in the Group!

And then, after October 3rd?

He’s horrified. He’s upset. He’s King Laughing about Dracula’s good meal and within inches of being kukri’d. But you know what he isn’t?

Apologetic.

Oh, he says sorry for the crack about Dracula eating well—but all the actions that led up to the attack? Not a peep.

And when he falls right back into the ‘withhold as much information as possible until it’s time for a Big Specialboy Meeting and my Big Specialboy Corn-flavored Monologue of the Day, in which I’ll give more orders with full expectation that everyone here will hop to it like good little student-soldiers because the author says we can only follow me me me?’

The only saving grace is that Jonathan—not even Mina! JONATHAN!—finally puts his foot down and refuses to chase the stick without conferring with Mina first. Mina, who has always taken precedent to him, period, but also Mina, who has proven herself to be the soundest mind in the entire group and already well aware of the dangers Dr. Abe has been rambling about and trying to be oh-so-covert and sneaky about with Jack.

On that subject? Van Helsing is STILL living a fantasy world where he, and occasionally Jack, are the only ones who can put 2 and 2 together and consider taking anti-vampire measures against Mina.

When everyone has already read everything.

When Mina knows exactly what the risks and measures are.

When Jonathan ‘Would Sell His Soul for His Love and to Slaughter Dracula’ Harker knows all of this.

WHEN EVERYONE HAS EYES THAT CAN ALSO SEE MINA’S TEETH.

Brammy Pajamas. Bramothy Stokerton. Bramward Stokerbroker. My guy.

Your OC, by your own text’s rules, is not special here. He is not the protagonist. He is not the extra-clever center of the narrative’s universe, per your own fucking writing. Stop forcing this man and his refusal to evolve from his preconceptions and his main character pedestal-theft and his goddamn corncobs down our throats.*

*Note: This will not happen.

The one silver lining yet to come will be that Jonathan and Mina get to roughly shoulder their way back into the story’s forefront by the book’s climax. In a huge way. Jonathan even gets an upcoming scene in which he gets to finally, rightfully, chew Van Helsing to ribbons for casually declaring a Certain Horrifying Action has to be taken (Again! No questions asked! No explanation offered until after said chewing-out!) and the narrative treats this as the right move!

But still. Still. Van Helsing is showered with Stoker’s overblown attention to a character that should have had his influence and dialogue whittled down to a supporting role rather than crowding out the Harkers for two whole thirds of the book, complete with them batting their eyes at how brilliant~ he is for much of it.

Despite.

The facts.

In The Text.

That Mina and Jonathan could have led the the whole fucking thing themselves.

We’ll see in later chapters that Mina is ONCE AGAIN the one to figure out Dracula’s plans ahead of time and set everyone on the right course. Jonathan is ONCE AGAIN the one laser-focused on seeking and slaying the Count almost on a supernatural level. On top of all that? What galls me almost as much as the Harkers being robbed of their story spotlight IN THEIR OWN FUCKING STORY?

If Van Helsing hadn’t been one-man-showing the bulk of the dialogue to make sure Brammington got to wave his self-insert around as much as possible?

We could have let Jack, Arthur, and Quincey be actual presences in the book. Jack has a big role! Absolutely! But even he gets relegated to an orbiting figure rather than an active one once Van Helsing starts hogging the pages. Arthur is practically reduced to a mutely mourning money machine. Quincey gets a few moments to remind everyone Hi, Yes, I am a Cowboy. And that’s it.

THAT’S. IT. FOR ALL OF THEM.

Hell, even Lucy and Renfield get whittled down to wisps of dialogue compared to the whole trees’ worth of lines Van Helsing rattles off.

All because Stoker couldn’t bear to let Van Helsing be the character he should have been.

The support. The guide rather than the commander.

Star Wars isn’t about Yoda, but it wouldn’t be the same without the wise little weirdo! That’s what Van Helsing would and should have been great for! But no!

I see now that I owe at least one small retroactive apology to those movie makers and spinoff writers who try to spin Van Helsing as the very real definite archnemesis of Dracula despite the fact that they have exactly two (2) scenes together and no dialogue. It’s not just the cool name. It’s not just because all of the (frequently male and/or Dracula-crushing) directors and writers refuse to acknowledge Jonathan Harker’s existence or importance.

It's because Stoker himself damn near choked his own book to death with the old man’s screentime, backed up by an utter refusal to let the narrative or the characters acknowledge when he’s fucked up. He always has to be the wise scholar. He always has to command the room and the story when neither of them belong to him.

I’d genuinely like to see one of two adaptations in the future.

In one, we could see a Van Helsing who, following October 3rd, chooses to step back. One where he and others logically point out that he has misled everyone with forced unnecessary ignorance and following stodgy hindering social rules, again, and it has doomed someone precious to them, again. One where the Harkers finally get proper center stage, likewise for the Suitor Squad—the latter of whom are written in canon as having a legit history of dangerous adventures undertaken together. Flesh those out, writers! Let these characters be present in their own fucking story! It’d be a golden opportunity to highlight a point Stoker fumbles even as he champions so many other forward-thinking notions:

Sometimes the older generation has to let go of the reins. Sometimes progress doesn’t come just from following and nodding along, but from forging ahead with new concepts and fresher minds. Case in point, Mina and Jonathan, who are apparently still too radically-written to be bothered with depicting accurately in the 21st century apart from a podcast that is literally just reading their lines verbatim.

The other option an adaptation could take? Supposing it really wanted to lean into the horror and heartbreak and forcing the ducklings to stop grasping at the Dutchman’s coattails?

Kill Van Helsing.

Dracula would absolutely think to target him, assuming that he, the elder with his acquired lore and scholarly nuisance, must surely be the keystone keeping his young enemies together. Given the chance, he’d follow that assumption to its conclusion and, on top of burning what he assumes is all the documentation on him, murdering his fellow clever old man in cold blood, ala Renfield. Bonus points if this comes at a bittersweet cost of Van Helsing landing a parting blow on the Count as thematic penance for ‘failing’ Mina, the second young girl who trusted him and paid for it, giving the bastard his second scar to match the shovel blow on his brow. Double bonus if the mark comes from a Wafer burn.

“Any last words, old man?”

“God bless you.”

Cue him slapping the Son right in the fucker’s face. He doesn’t last long after that, but it’s still a good view to go out on as the Vampire curses and sizzles.

And, natch, he will have been wise enough to leave another memorandum for Jack and the others just in case this very thing should happen. A rousing farewell speech, some parting intel, some apologies made. Perhaps a more personal goodbye to his pupil; complete with Jack’s professional mien cracking like glass and the long-put-off tears finally pouring. Then, finally, the crew move forward as one; no longer leaning on or chafing against Van Helsing’s assumed lead, but using the exact same tools they’d always had at their disposal, along with their own wits that the narrative forced them into ignoring in favor of the Professor’s lectures.

Anyway.

Van Helsing is not a bad character. He’s richly made and interesting, as any worthwhile member of a cast should be! But Stoker crammed him into the wrong role and spread him far too thin across the whole book. Doing so has been detrimental not only to all the media which followed it, but to the actual leads of the novel.

[vivithefolle]

What are your favourite fanfic tropes/aus for romione?

(I’m gonna try to make my way through old asks I received AGES ago and never answered because I’m a procrastinating lump. Here’s betting I’m going to give up and play videogames all day instead.)

Oh my god, so many.

Okay so as a rule of thumb as long as it’s nice to Ron I’ll read it. I’ll read anything. I have been known to read Ron/Draco and even sacrificed my dignity and everything I stand for as a human being by reading some Ron/Snape stuff. Yes. I was THAT desperate. This is how low I’m willing to go because of sheer love for Ron.

Which means that when a fic will go “oh poor Hermione, poor Hermione who is waiting for Ron to grow up because She can see one day he could be worth it but for now he’s all dumb-dumb and inferior and doesn’t deserve Her perfection :(”, I will be judging. Judging very hard. I may not leave a comment but rest assured, my thoughts are loud enough for me. This is 2010s mentality. This is “haha I’m so like Hermione, not like other girls who throw themselves at boys, I’m so special and girl powery :)” Horribly Bad Feminism. Fuck that. We’re doing better now.

Speaking of doing better. Recently I read something about how Ron is, paraphrased, “the brute of the Trio”, spun in a positive way since he uses his strength to protect them but, but, still... please no? Just no! Just eff no with these takes about how Ron is a hypermasculine dudebro M For Manly™! No, no, fucking no! Just because he’s the Sulfur to Hermione’s Mercury and Sulfur represents the masculine component to Mercury’s feminine one, DOESN’T MEAN Ron is “the brute”! (”the” brute... seriously... who’s the more brutish one, the one who punches a racist in the face or the one who uses a torture curse as retribution for spitting on his fave teacher?)

The way I see him, Ron is a balance, a blend of feminine and masculine qualities intertwined close together. I LOVE that he can swear like a sailor but can only say “scarlet woman” or “cow” when it comes to insulting a woman. Some will probably see it as “hurr durr he sexist he doesnt think women can take it!!!!!!! >8C” but given that those are probably also the peeps who say “HE CALLE D HERMOANI A NIGHTMURRR!!!!!!! DDDDD8″ I’m gonna venture the idea that we don’t care about those folks’ biased, sexist opinions.

Where was I going with this... oh yes! Ok, so Ron can swear like a sailor yet couldn’t insult a girl to save his life. He’s strong physically but most of all he’s strong mentally (to put up with the way his friends treat him for years speaks a lot of his mental fortitude... and to top it off he comes back for more to boot! I’m not sure if that’s more mental fortitude or straight-up masochism though.) When he succeeds at things he gets a bit attention-whoreish but at the same time, you can see that when he’s being complimented he’s all unsure of himself and blushy and shy and you just, dude you can’t handle positive attention because you don’t know how to react to it I don’t know whether that’s adorable or the saddest thing I’ve seen in my life? He’s insecure but he’s always the first to cheer on Harry and Hermione when they’re doing something great, which speaks VOLUMES of Ron’s selflessness and of his actual character: to quote @peetamaellark​, Ron doesn’t think “Harry is great, therefore he sucks and I hate him”, he thinks “Harry is great, therefore I suck and I hate me”. THIS is Ron. THIS is why Ron will lash out, not because he hates Harry, but because internally he hates himself and you can’t keep that sort of feeling bottled up for too long before... you got it, you explode.

I. Want. More. Fics where Hermione isn’t this ~oh dear~ Victorian damsel in distress who cries and Ron is the Big Strong Man who holds her with one arm and is stony-faced and goes “I’ll protect you”, please no that was old before it existed, let us have nice, realistic depictions of Ron and Hermione please.

Like, Hermione is more than capable of kicking butt herself. She IS absolutely nervous and scared and cries easily and that’s a vulnerability we NEED, but the fact that she can be super scared and crying but still hex her opponent into oblivion? THAT’s good, THAT’s excellent. It’s a very important message for girls, I think. “You can cry, you can be sensitive, you can be emotional, AND you can still kick butt”. And as important as that message is for girls, it’s also a very important message to give boys, because boys are socialized to “never cry” and that’s super unhealthy. I love Ron’s admiration of Hermione. I love the way Ron hesitates, the way he can be cautious when he needs to as much as he can be reckless and impulsive. I love how he shows himself to be a big softie and a sweet soul. I don’t think that makes him an “emasculated doormat” (to quote a guest I once saw on FFN), on the contrary it makes him an even better man in my eyes. You know why I love the locket scene so much? Because Ron’s tears aren’t ridiculed. Ron gets to cry about the terrible ordeal he’s been put through, and while Harry “pretends he can’t see Ron cry” because it’s more comfortable for him personally, he doesn’t try to tell Ron to “man up” or anything. His reassurance is pretty lousy but he lets Ron cry, he lets his friend be upset, and he doesn’t try to invalidate Ron’s pain. (ok, the “I thought you knew” is kiiiiinda on the way there, but it stops at that and I’m grateful for it).

I like. Seeing Ron distressed. I like seeing Ron upset and be allowed to be upset. I like to see Ron’s pain treated with respect. So when Ron is having a shit day I like to see him get a cuddle. I like seeing Ron go through horrible ordeals and break down and for his breakdown to be properly acknowledged and not turned into insensitive comic relief (ISN’T THAT RIGHT, LATTER HALF OF THE SILVER DOE????). I mean seriously, just imagine GOF, Harry sitting in the hospital wing after Cedric’s death, Molly Weasley gives him a hug and it’s all very sad and angsty. And now picture Ginny running into the room screaming “HARRY JAMES POTTER” and punching him over and over and saying “PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER MAN, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER” then after two pages of Harry “explaining” himself to Ginny she goes away saying “aight but if you do that shit again you’ll have to answer to me” then Harry’s friends are like “damn she’s spunky huh?” and Harry laughs and everyone laughs and this is how the book ends? How would it be funny? How would it be appropriate? How would it feel like “romance”? When Ron returns in The Silver Doe, he’s been psychologically tortured (”tortured” is the actual word JKR uses, please), we don’t need him to be hurting outside as well.

I want more accountability for Hermione. More “uh hey Hermione maybe don’t do that”. More “hey Hermione you know you think of yourself as a good person buuuut yeah actually if all good persons were like you I’d be very afraid”. More “Hermione please for the love of God educate yourself”. More “Hermione sweetie I love you, but you can’t actually learn everything from books”. CHARACTER. DEVELOPMENT. PLEASE. Don’t be afraid to punch Hermione down and tear her apart the way the best Ron fics maim and torture our poor boy. Just because Rowling treated Hermione with kiddy princess gloves doesn’t mean you have to mimic her.

So when Hermione does a genuinely shitty thing let her own up to it. When Ron is a victim let him be upset and angry, even if Hermione is the one treating him badly. Just because he loves her doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to be disappointed in her or that she’s entitled to his immediate forgiveness. Give Ron and Hermione equal consideration. If you’re brushing off Hermione’s actions but condemning Ron for the slightest mistake, I am sure to hate it.

Okay, uh, so, those aren’t really tropes. Those are more just, guidelines I presume.

Oh, yeah, a trope that annoys me! Ron saying “you’re mine”, “my Hermione” and stuff, and Hermione just swoons and says “yours” and shiz. Ok, once in a while, why not. Once in a while. BUTT. I WANT HERMIONE TO SAY IT TOO. “Mine”, “my Ron!” and Ron swoons and says “yours, absolutely yours”. DO IT YOU COWARDS. FUCKING TAKE THOSE GENDER ROLES AND PUNCH’EM IN THE FACE.

Oh, right, while we’re on the subject of gender roles! Dad!Ron is everything. SingleParent!Ron is mwaaah. Stay-at-home-Dad!Ron is ALKZLDSJDLQSKLFJ <3. AnimalLover!Ron is HHHHNNNGG. Remember, the small gestures, the tiniest, softest acts Ron does (helping Harry get dressed when his arm is deboned, giving Dobby his brand-new sweater, praising Ginny, Luna and Neville when they escaped Umbridge), those are often those unremarkable, unmistakeably kind and sweet actions that tell us who Ron really is at his core: not a guy who’d want power at all costs, not a guy who’d give it all for ambition, not a guy who sees people as possessions, but someone kind who wants to make others happy.

Ok, I was also asked for AUs, so, uh, pretty much every AU is game as long as Ron gets treated with respect? I mean I don’t really care for Mafia!AUs or such but if you can find a way to fit good Romione then go for it I guess. Royalty AU, yeah why not but I often see Ron being made a prince while Hermione is a poor wee servant girl and like. Uuum, we’re talking about the same characters here? Hermione the highly educated girl who keeps on walking over everyone’s toes and loudly talking about how things should be done and is definitely Nouveau Riche, Ron who is a country boy who lives on a farm and is lost in the constant shuffle of his brothers, you think she should be the peasant and he should be the royal? Whaddafack? Oh, and all the “Hermione is a Muggle, Ron is a wizard” AUs that start this way BUTT! Suddenly... Hermione... turns out... to be (wait for it!)... A WITCH! And a super powerful super talented very good one too!!!... yeah ok, yawn. It’s quite scary, actually, how often I’ve seen that plotline, but in the rare cases when it’s Muggle!Ron and Witch!Hermione, Ron never ever EVER (I mean, seriously, NEVER EVER) turns out to have been a wizard, not even a mediocre one, all along. No, when Ron is made a Muggle for the sake of AU he stays a Muggle. But when Hermione is made a Muggle she has to turn out TO HAVE BEEN A WITCH ALL ALONG OMYGAH. I can count on one hand the number of Mugglemione/Wizardron fics that actually stick to their Mugglemione premise till the end - and usually they’re one-shots. (Also I don’t mean “Ron mistakes Hermione for a Muggle because he meets her in the Muggle world and assumes he must hide his magic from her, oh wait she was actually a witch!” fics, I mean genuinely “Hermione has been raised a Muggle her whole life, never had weird things happen to her her whole life ever, then Ron comes in and is a wizard and he does magic and Hermione wonders what it’d be like to be a witch and oh surprise! Don’t worry Hermione, you won’t have to feel not-special or mundane for long, here comes the plot contrivance to tell you you really were in fact the specialest of them all!!” fics.) Fairytale!AU is cool. Very good. But honestly I like to see them swapped around. Ron cursed by a nasty fae to be a Beast and Hermione stumbling upon him? Neat, especially if you don’t go the boring route of “oh let’s just rehash the Disney/the original book with different names and call it a day”. But Hermione cursed by an asshole fae for, let’s say, not sharing books, turning into a Beast, and Ron stumbling upon her as she’s trying to survive in the woods (and not doing a very good job of it)? Yes, brava, chief’s kiss. Rapunzel AU where Hermione’s bushy hair turns into the most impractical, most suffocating improvised ladder ever for Ron? Hilarious. Rapunzel AU where Ron has A GIANT EFFING PONYTAIL OF THE GODS and is screaming “ow ow ow” as Hermione makes her way up to his window cringing and saying “sorry! sorry! sorry! (damn his hair smells good)” on every step? Equally hilarious. Go! Be creative! Please I beg of you

Creature!fics! Oh my god there’s not enough of those, at least that aren’t focused on a bullshit pairing! Soulmate AUs! Give me everything! I’ll even take A/B/O if you insist on making it Romione! That’s how far I’ve fallen from human decency I’ll take anything just give me some good Ron content please I beg of you (Ah and to those that are going to say “Alpha Ron Omega Hermione :)))” well yes, but actually no. “Beta Ron Beta Hermione”? “Beta Ron Alpha Hermione”? “Omega Ron Alpha Hermione”??? HELL YEAH NOW WE’RE TALKIN)

Oh dear god I’m still not finished and I haven’t gone through everything someone stop me.

AND NOW BE CAREFUL CHILDREN, BELOW WILL BE SMUT.

Okay I don’t know if it qualifies as a trope, but. But. A more realistic depiction of Ron is usually what I’m after. All those fanfics that have Ron be “the sexy experienced one ;)))” ravishing “naive virginal Hermione ;))” is just UGH. We spent all the 2000-2010 period having fics like this, mind adding a bit of EQUALITY to the mix???

It’s just... I hate it okay? So many fics read like they’re just projection, writers who are essentially making Ron their big strong sex toy stud who's so attentive and sweet and cherishing, and so it does indirectly ends up as "servant Ron is so devoted to his goddess Hermione, providing pleasure to her while she doesn’t have to lift a finger”. The Dom!SexGod!Ron thing honestly depresses me... Since it's Ron taking care of Hermione, AGAIN. Like, he spends his WHOLE LIFE doing that already. Can we give him a break for once?

In the endI feel that it's less "Romione smut" and more "self-inserting into Hermione smut". In "real" Romione smut I think Ron and Hermione would switch roles according to what they feel like. And honestly I ALWAYS picture Ron being super nervous during Dom stuff, like he spanks her once then immediately he goes "oh my god are you okay?? did that hurt, do you want to stop?", things like that. I cannot imagine it happening any other way. XD Ron is just... too caring, too sensitive to do stuff like hard BDSM and that kind of thing in my opinion. He’s too much of a caretaker. I understand if it’s your kink and you’re perfectly free to project and write the fic you want, I’m not the fun police, but it’s just... I don’t think that’s really what Ron would be like. I just want MORE realistic Ron.

Also I’m trying really really hard to not point fingers here but WHY is it that it’s always “Ron growled” while it’s always “Hermione whimpered” or “Hermione moaned”? Like... you know it’s okay for a man to moan or whimper in pleasure too, right?  You know Ron isn’t 110% muscles and testosterone? You know Hermione is allowed to be fierce too? Hermione can 100% “growl” and be dominant and pin Ron to the wall and reduce him to a puddle of goo if you’re brave enough?

(Honestly how sexy would Ron think that is? The woman he loves is half his size yet can pin him down and ravish him. DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG RON HAS WANTED TO BE RAVISHED AND CHERISHED DO YOU KNOW HE’S BEEN WANTING THIS ALL HIS LIFE)

Oooo-kay, so that’s... mostly it, I reckon. Oh also Ron has a gigantic penisraise kink (and a great penis too, but mostly a praise kink). That’s canon and that’s all.

[swiss-cheeze]

Bad Day, Good Week || Aaron Hotchner

Requested: YES/NO

Gender: none, no pronouns from my reread.

Description: a bad day turns into a good end of the week

———

Mornings are never your thing, maybe Spencer or Emily but definitely not yours, this morning was normal though. There was a new case, you got briefed by Hotch and were on the plane within the hour to be given duties for touchdown. Normal procedure.

“Reid and Prentiss, I want you guys to go to the previous crime scenes, see what anyone missed. JJ I want you to contact any living people in the victims names; get in touch with Garcia and see what you can find. Morgan and Rossi I want you to go to the morgue, see what's on the body and any lab results. The rest of us will set up at the station.” Hotch had said, it was simple and easy, everyone knew what to do and by the time the plane landed everyone got into their own cars with their partners and headed to their place, you took the road with Hotch at the wheel headed to the station to start some sort of profile and talk theories.

---

“We are looking for a white male, 30 to 40 as well as possibly a woman aged 20 to 30” Hotch started the profile.

“And a woman?” one of the officers asked.

“Possibly,” Reid started as he used his hands to talk, “these murders can be committed by one person but it is also more likely to be an easier clean up with two people, the way these ‘scenes’ have been set out almost allude to a pairing, a very dangerous pairing who share the same fantasy that still hasn't been finished”

“The woman will be petite, small, she's agile but has power,” Derek started, “she handles the killing because it's the easiest job, the man handles the load and then the woman cleans up”

“We know this because he is an ego boosting son of a bitch, he has the sense that the man does the work and the woman stays quiet, this adds to the woman having power however she is also submissive to him as she knows the brute force this man can really give” you stated, “this man he…” you paused, “he may remind you of someone, someone you may know that is confident and outgoing, powerful and uses his status as a place in your life” this made the officers look around confused, including your team.

“(L/n),” Hotch started.

“He may even be known to you, he may even be in this room, he likes to get in on the action, know all the ins and outs of the procedure” you said, the cops in the room looked at each other with a fierce gaze.

BANG

Someone had hit one of the wood tables, this has happened 3 times today previously. That broke the last straw.

“ALRIGHT YOU SON OF A BITCH,” you yelled walking to the man responsible of the table banging from the whole day, “i've just about lost my goddamn temper with you, SOME OF US COME FROM A BACKGROUND WHERE THAT NOISE SETS OFF OUR FIGHT OR FLIGHT AND THIS RIGHT NOW IS MY FIGHT-” just as you grabbed the man's collar Hotch's voice rang out, dark, deep, cold.

“(L/n), outside. Now” Hotch walked out as you let go of the man and pushed him slightly, the man whistled lowly.

“Puppy has an owner,” the man said with a chuckle, before you could turn around and lay a fist on the man both Derek and Spencer stepped in front of you.

“Back off” Spencer spoke harshly.

“And what’re you going to do twig?” the cop asked as he pushed Spencer's shoulder. Before the man could blink Derek had the man's hands behind his back and bent harshly over the nearest surface.

“You are under arrest for putting your hands on a federal agent, if that shoulder push wasn't enough I'll find something” Derek said harshly into the man's ear before bringing him upright forcefully and walking off to a holding cell, along the way Spencer gave you a tight lipped smile. You nodded in thanks before walking off to Hotch and outside the station.

“Hotch-”

“You can lose your job,” Hotch started, “you just threatened a police officer in a state that isn't our own, you had no right-”

“Hotch he’s had it out for me since we got here!” you exclaimed, “banging on tables to see my reaction! Purposely spilled his coffee on my chest! HE JUST CALLED ME A DOG SIR!”

“(L/N) THAT IS ENOUGH,” Hotch bore his eyes into yours with a fury that was so soft you almost thought he was saddened, “you do not yell at your superior like that to get your point across, if you told me these things earlier i would have gotten him taken out of the case and onto a road patrol,” you both knew what was coming next, “you are too invested into this case (L/n)” you sighed softly and looked at the ground, a pregnant pause came over the two of you.

“Kylie Fish,” you said softly, “that's the woman,”

“Why are you so sure?” Hotch responded.

“I figured it out when i went to the previous crime scene yesterday, she left a note she knew only I would find,” Hotch looked at you with a waiting gaze as you bit your lip, “she was my best friend in middle school, she always had this vision of being the best of the best, the best stage actor, the best mathematician; anything she wanted to be the best at. She even said she would kill for it.”

“We’ll look into it” Hotch said, “we’ve given the profile later than we normally would, i want you to go to the hotel and have the rest of the night off, come back in tomorrow fresh faced,” you opened your mouth to ask Hotch something but he seemed to read your mind, “i’ll talk to his supervisor, you don't need to apologise to him or anyone else (L/n)” and then he left, you nodded as you stood outside now alone, that was before someone else walked out. You looked up and saw Derek.

“How are you doing?” Derek asked as the man crossed his arms.

“Hotch wants me to go home for the night, come back fresh faced tomorrow” you said with a sigh.

“Well he's in holding, the officer I mean, Spence gave him a pretty good speaking'' Derek cocked a smile at that, so did you.

“Tell him thanks, I’m gonna go back inside and grab my stuff” you said, you gave Derek a soft smile before walking back into the station, avoiding everyone's gaze, grabbing your stuff from its previous setup and heading towards the door. You made a mental note to thank Spencer back in the hotel rooms later.

---

Walking back into the police station the next day there was a thick and heavy tension in the room from all of the officers. Walking into the conference room you saw everyone already walking around doing their jobs and working on the case, you gave a soft smile to everyone as you walked in holding 7 hot drinks before handing them out to the respective owners. The phone gave a shrill ring as Hotch pressed the answer button and Garcia started talking.

“(L/n) was right my little princess, our woman unsub is Kylie Fish, has a husband and they recently bought a large plot of land and they both match our profile; Kylie doesn't have a job, her husband, Gale, has a high end masculine type job however he isn't in law enforcement”

“Great job Garcia, send the address” Hotch said before hanging up on the girl before looking to you, “(Y/n) i want you to be the one who enters the place first, you know Kylie better than the rest of us maybe you can coax a confession” you nodded before everyone started heading off towards the address given from Garcia.

---

Time passed and you apprehended both Kylie and her husband as the killers with evidence against them, you got a confession from Kylie as well as her showing where the bodies were. Everyone started packing up the room and soon filtered out, leaving you and Hotch alone to finish everything else.

“Thank you for your help today (Y/n),” Hotch said as he placed some files into a box labeled ‘KYLIE FISH’ as well as the date. You smiled.

“That's twice you’ve said my first name today sir” you mentioned with a knowing grin. Hotch seemed to tense up for a moment.

“I apologise” Hotch dismissed.

“Aaron,” you said with a grin as you looked at your superior for his reaction, he stiffened as he looked at you, “it isn't exactly professional but I have seen the way you've looked at me before, you breath in when i walk past you and try to keep me from harm besides when it is needed,” while talking you stepped towards Hotch as he kept eye contact with you.

“You’re one of our best profilers (L/n)” Hotch said, trying to change the subject.

“So is Reid, and Morgan, and Prentiss, and-” you mentioned your teammates knowing it would cause a reaction.

“Okay i get it, where are you going with this?” Hotch sighed as he already knew where this was going, you smiled sweetly as you took Hotch's larger hand in yours and intertwined your fingers together before leaning up and giving Hotch a peck on the lips, his eyes closed momentarily in the sweet bliss. The kiss ended almost before it even started as you stood to your normal height and both you and Hotch looked at each other with a new emotion.

“Dinner?” you asked with a smile.

“When we get back to Quantico I want you to leave your paperwork at your desk for tomorrow and come home with me tonight. I've already got dinner for two set out,” Hotch's eyes seemed to widen for a moment at the mention of his dinner.

“For two? Already set up?” you asked with a knowing grin, “so where are you planning to ask me out today or?”

“Something like that maybe,” Hotch said with a quirk of his lip, “obviously you don't have to if this is too fast or you want to think abou-” before Hotch could finish his sentence of rejection you placed your lips against his again soft but harsh at the same time, promising. Hotch's arms wrapped around your waist as he tilted his head slightly and brought you closer, your arms wrapping around his neck and twirling into his hair. It seemed right, and perfect.

Maybe it was a good morning if this was how the week ended.

[dreammoo]

Nezumi Atsuchi (OC - BNHA)

Nezumi Atsuchi is one of many��bnha ocs that I’ve made, as well as one of two crossover ocs. Nezumi’s ‘quirk’ is Bikaku Ghoul, originating from the Tokyo Ghoul universe. I’ve been making many of my ocs as members of the ‘Multiverse-Investigation Agency’ (MVIA), and like them, Nezumi was deployed into the BNHA universe.

There will be more about the MVIA and Nezumi’s story later down the track. bio below pic.

-Nezumi Atsuchi- -Biographical Description-

Name: Nezumi Atsuchi

Nezumi - Japanese meaning “rat” 鼠

Atsu - From Japanese 純 (atsu) meaning "pure, innocent"

Chi -  血 (chi) meaning "blood"

Alias Name: Rat Ghoul

-Personal Description-

Birthday: 13 January, 20XX

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Height:  182 cm (6’0”)

Hair Colour: Wine red

Eye Colour: Cornflower blue; Black/Red (quirk use)

Blood Type: AB

Quirk: Bikaku Ghoul

Equipment:

Mask - To prevent user’s identities as ‘civilian’ from being discovered, also to show identity to fellows villains (LoV) and agents (MVIA).

Bears a symbolic attachment or representation to their owner.

Shaped as a crow’s beak, more specifically a plague doctor’s mask after hearing the theory of quirk’s originating from rats carrying the black plague.

^ ^Later find’s this humorous, teasing Chisaki Kai during the “Overhaul” Arc.

-Status-

Status: Alive Birthplace: 20th Ward Tokyo, Japan (Tokyo-Ghoul; Universe 72) Occupation: Villain, MVIA Agent Affiliation: League of Villains, MVIA Teams: - Fighting Style: Mid/Close-range combat, hand-to-hand Rank: S (Villain/Agent)

-Stats-

Power 6/6 S Speed 6/6 S Technique 4/6 B Intelligence 5/6 A Cooperativeness 3/5 C Hunger 6/6 S

-Quirk Description-

Quirk: Bikaku Ghoul

Define: Originating from the ‘Tokyo Ghoul’ universe, user is a one-eyed ghoul from being experimented on, with a bikaku-type kagune. Typically has a tail-like appearance and is released around the tail-bone/coccyx. The left eye changes upon activation, the sclera (white) turning black and irises (blue) turning a candy-red. Glows in the dark, whole ‘colour-changing’ process referred as Kakugan.

Quirk Type: Transformation

Quirk Range: Mid-distance

Quirk Drawbacks:

Like normal ghouls, user requires human flesh in their diet.

Cannot eat regular food, causes vomiting.

Forced ingestion will have user’s physical condition will deteriorate

Can have coffee and water to ease hunger (to an extent)

They can survive up to one month on just one body, depending on physical activities endured.

Due to the constant use of kagune and physical activity, Nezumi has to eat every three days before showing signs of withdrawal and loss of control.

In the extreme states of hunger, user will suffer very painful headaches and their mental ability will be impaired, causing them to become driven by instinct alone.

-Quirk Abilities-

General Moves:

Detachment - Ability to detach part of their kagune. This detached piece maintains its traits for some time, and continues to function separate from the main body. Detachment can be used in several ways:

Wall - Buries into the ground and sprouts like a thorn bush or other organic barriers. It extends itself to fill the entire area, making passage impossible.

Trap - Can be buried within any surface, and coils upon itself. These traps will lie in wait until nearby movement triggers them, bursting from their hiding place to impale what has set them off. It appears to be possible to set more than a half-dozen traps at a time, though the exact limitation is unknown.

Signal - Able to transmit data similar to a distress signal. How the information is transferred as well as received is unknown, but a small piece of kagune can reveal the owner's location. It has only been shown to work one-way so far.

Pseudo-sword - Break parts off of their kagune to use them as sword-like weapons.

Supermoves:

Nine-tails - The standard number of tails a bikaku user can create is usually one, but user can create more depending on amount of RC cells stored in kakuhou.

Nezumi has a general of two usually.

Drones - The creatures are humanoid in shape, standing larger than the average human and possessed of a masculine build. There are two verifications:

Drones that attack anything they encounter, with no notable traits beyond their aggression.

The second type is extremely rare, and typically hides among its normal comrades. When injured or killed, this variant explodes and releases a dangerous toxin into the surrounding environment. Victims that inhale or contact this toxin are infected, either developing Rc cell over-secretion disease or becoming a ghoul.

Heal - The wounded may be healed from injuries such as large fatal wounds to needing whole bones replaced. Whether they are human (albeit with added complications involving increased Rc factors), or the owner of the healing kagune, healing can be achieved within varying time parameters.

-Other-

Rat (nezumi) 鼠

People born in the year of the Rat are charming, honest, ambitious, and have a tremendous capacity for pursuing a course to its end. They will work hard for their goals. They are easily angered but maintain an outward show of control.

Nezumi is, of course, based off this Japanese zodiac

Nezumi’s birthdate corresponds under the ‘Capricorn’ western zodiac.

Nezumi is a one-eyed ghoul, a rare human-ghoul hybrid, either created artificially (Nezumi’s case) or naturally born between inter-species relationships.

Bikaku

A bikaku kagune (尾赫, bikaku, Fish Tail "tail-red") typically has a tail-like appearance and is released around the tail-bone/coccyx. It is good for medium-distance attacks and has decent offense, defense, and speed. Thus, they have no notable strengths or weaknesses like the kagune based on other Rc types, meaning the kagune itself is treated as a surprise "trump card." The number of tails a bikaku user can create is usally one, but some can create more.

A bikaku has better speed and durability against the brute-force, breakable rinkaku, allowing them to cut off the rinkaku's kagune. However, a bikaku will be overwhelmed by the faster ukaku-user and will lose against the ukaku's long-range attacks.

-Sources-

https://www.behindthename.com/name/yuzu/submitted https://www.thoughtco.com/japanese-zodiac-overview-2028019 https://tokyoghoul.fandom.com/wiki/Rc_cells https://tokyoghoul.fandom.com/wiki/Kakuhou https://www.travelchinaguide.com/intro/astrology/capricorn-horoscope.htm https://tokyoghoul.fandom.com/wiki/Kagune

[dictionarywrites]

9, 11, and 13 Loki for the headcanon prompt

Send me a character + a number and I’ll tell you my headcanons for:

9. Humiliating memories

god, i actually expect loki has a lot of these.

so the thing is like, i tend to imagine asgardian society as super advanced, scientifically, but it’s definitely not the amazing utopia it seems like. firstly, you have the fact that this “super advanced” society is still run by a royal family, which means you have a regimented class system in place immediately (we see the lives of some of the like, terrified peasants on the outside of asgard city in the 616 but not so much in the mcu), then you have the fact that they’re uh, pretty awful and colonial, including regarding the jotnar as sub-human and free game to just go and murder a few of them without expecting them to fight back. 

and i definitely think there are issues with misogyny. although i do defo feel it’s like, possible for women to succeed in more “masculine” arenas (such as sif !! who i love), i think it’s a great deal harder for men to approach feminine professions and concepts, including stuff like magic, music, cooking, parenting, etc

asgard got that toxic masculinity up to 11

so i think a lot of loki’s most deeply cutting humiliations would all to do with his being argr - that is to say, he is “unmanly”. i can imagine he was humiliated very badly as a child because he excelled in magic more than he did in brute strength, and especially given his canonic gender fluidity, like, being a Man’s Man was undoubtedly something he really struggled with

i think loki was well-used to being embarrassed by fandral and thor especially as a matter of course, and although they’d see it as a bit of fun, i think a lot of those moments would stick in loki’s mind as genuinely upsetting and/or traumatic. and if sif decided to embarrass him, well, norns fucking help her, because loki’s always had his own misogyny (which imo manifests so strongly because of his gender-related self-loathing) to deal with, and he’d just respond completely disproportionately to it

i have one fic centred around that one time loki made all of sif’s hair fall out (it’s comic & myth canon lmao he’s so awful)

“Oh, Loki!” Fandral calls, tone teasing as he looks up at Loki above them on the wall, three or four books hovering about him with an effortless seiðr none of them could ever hope to perform. “Are you despairing of your babe's face once more? Don't worry, lad – I'm sure some man will consider you pretty enough to marry!” Loki throws down a dagger at him, but Hogun catches it before it can drive itself into Fandral's breast, and gives Loki a stern look. He resists the urge to stick out his tongue in response.

Fandral laughs, laughs so hard his knees nearly buckle and he has to lean against Volstagg to be steady, and Loki feels fury bubble in his chest – not for the first time, he considers murdering the so-called Dashing, but-

“Fear not, Loki,” Sif comes in, tone deceptively sweet, “Perhaps you might hope for a woman like me, who will not mind a beardless thing as a husband to warm her hearth and raise her children!” Thor laughs, the guffaw loud, and he pats Sif's back, his fingers lingering a moment too long on the golden hair loosely tied behind her head.

Loki squares his jaw, and begins to scheme. (x)

AND HERE LOKI JUST SEES FUCKIN RED because he’s gross

11. Bad or petty habits

he’s just so incapable of letting something go. 

and the thing is like, i don’t think loki wants to think of himself as a victim, necessarily, because he thinks victims are weak, but he just gets caught in this ridiculous cycle of “how dare x person do y thing to me” even if they’ve apologized, and it happened 143 years ago, and you’d just fucking stabbed them, loki

i also think he reflexively lies and avoids questions, even banal ones, because he’s just so scared of being vulnerable with other people.

i also think that often, loki just goes off-grid. avoids heimdall’s all-sight, just fucking blanks everyone and walks off on his own for a while which like, would be fine, if he was like “hey guys i need 2 be alone for a while bye” but he doesn’t do that. he just disappears for 45 years and everyone has to be like “well, let’s just hope he’s fine, because we’re not gonna fucking find him”. like, i think that’s part of why it affected thor so much to see loki just die in front of him, because... jesus. that’s never been a concern before, even when loki disappeared that one time for 128 years and came back with 9 broken bones, a wolf cub and 3 extra limbs

and then - i defo consider this a bad habit - he’s just terrible to himself. if it ever seems like someone’s even close to liking him or enjoying his company, he goes on a self-sabotaging rampage.

13. What gets them flustered

people implying he isn’t manly. especially people implying that loki is weak, which i think he’s like ??? extremely frustrated by, simply because people look at him (and he’s muscly! he’s got muscles!) compared to thor and assume he must be some useless little damsel who can’t hold his own

but in a more positive way, praise.

as much as loki is like “I constantly crave validation”, radiating from every fuckin pore in his body, i think except from thor & his mother (where he kinda expects it a bit more), if someone praises him, gives him a compliment, etc, he becomes very like

wait, what. what. why are you saying that.

and especially when considering his dynamic with the grandmaster, like, loki has been waiting his entire life for someone to just say “you’re really good at magic, and it is good that you are good at magic” at the most basic level, and suddenly you have this much more powerful, more skillful man showering him with praise and compliments and loki would just crumble to pieces under it, despite all the other glaring red flags

[reconditarmonia]

NPM: April 9, A New Canto

Caro being Byron! I'd never read this before finding it for this National Poetry Month, and I'd recommend reading the whole thing under the cut. It's great - snarky, specific, and some GREAT rhymes.

Caroline Lamb: A New Canto, 1819

I'm sick of fame—I'm gorged with it—so full I almost could regret the happier hour When northern oracles proclaimed me dull, Grieving my Lord should so mistake his power— E'en they, who now my consequence would lull, And vaunt they hail'd and nurs'd the opening flower. Vile cheats! He knew not, impudent Reviewer, Clear spring of Helicon from common sewer.

'Tis said, they killed the gentle soul'd Montgomery— I'll swear, they did not shed for him a tear! He had not spirit to revenge their mummery, Nor lordly purse to print and persevere: I measured stings with 'em—a method summary— Not that I doubt their penitence sincere; And I've a fancy running in my head They'll like; or so by some it will be said.

When doomsday comes, St. Paul's will be on fire— I should not wonder if we live to see it— Of us, proof pickles, Heaven must rather tire— And want a reckoning—if so, so be it— Only about the Cupola, or higher, If there's a place unoccupied, give me it— To catch, before I touch my sinner's salary, The first grand crackle in the whispering gallery.

The ball comes tumbling with a lively crash, And splits the pavement up, and shakes the shops, Teeth chatter, china dances, spreads the flash, The omnium falls, the Bank of England stops; Loyal and radical, discreet and rash, Each on his knees in tribulation flops; The Regent raves (Moore chuckling at his pain) And sends about for ministers in vain.

The roaring streamers flap, red flakes are shot This way and that, the town is a volcano— And yells are heard, like those provoked by Lot, Some, of the Smithfield sort, and some soprano; Some holy water seek, the font is hot, And fizzing in a tea-kettle piano. Now bring your magistrates, with yeomen back'd, Bawls Belial, and read the Riot-act!—

The Peak of Derbyshire goes to and fro; Like drunken sot the Monument is reeling: Now fierce and fiercer comes the furious glow, The planets, like a juggler's ball, are wheeling: I am a graceless poet, as you know, Yet would not wish to wound a proper feeling, Nor hint you'd hear, from saints in agitation, The lapsus linguæ of an execration.

Mark yon bright beauty, in her tragic airs, How her clear white the mighty smother tinges! Delicious chaos! that such beauty bares!— And now those eyes outstretch their silken fringes, Staring bewildered—and anon she tears Her raven tresses ere the wide flame singes— Oh! would she feel as I could do, and cherish One wild forgetful rapture, ere all perish!—

Who would be vain? Fair maids and ugly men Together rush, the dainty and the shabby, (No gallantry will soothe ye, ladies, then) High dames, the wandering beggar and her babby, In motley agony, a desperate train, Flocking to holy places like the Abbey, Till the black volumes, closing o'er them, scowl, Muffling for ever curse, and shriek, and howl.

A woman then may rail, nor would I stint her; Her griefs, poor soul, are past redress in law— And if this matter happen in the winter, There'll be at Petersburgh a sudden thaw, And Alexander's palace, every splinter Burn, Christmas like and merry, though the jaw Of its imperial master take to trembling, As when the French were quartered in the Cremlin.

Rare doings in the North! as trickle down Primeval snows, and white bears swash and caper, And Bernadotte, that swaggerer of renown, To Bonaparte again might hold a taper, Ay, truckle to him, cap in hand or crown, To save his distance from the sturdy vapour. Napoleon, too, will he look blank and paly? He hung the citizens of Moscow gaily—

He made a gallant youth his darkling prey, Nor e'er would massacre or murder mince, And yet I fear, on this important day To see the hero pitifully wince: Go, yield him up to Belzebub, and say, Pray treat him like a gentleman and prince. I doubt him thorough-bred, he's not a true one, A bloodhound spaniel-crossed and no Don Juan.

Death-watches now, in every baking wall, tick Faster and faster, till they tick no more, And Norway's copper-mines about the Baltic Swell, heave, and rumble with their boiling ore, Like some griped giant's motion peristaltic, Then burst, and to the sea vast gutters pour; And as the waters with the fire stream curl, Zooks! what a whizzing, roaring, sweltering whirl!

Lo! the great deep laid bare, tremendous yawning, Its scalding waves retiring from the shore, Affrighted whales on dry land sudden spawning, And small fish fry where fish ne'er fried before. No Christian eye shall see another dawning— The Turkish infidel may now restore His wives to liberty, and, ere to Hell he go, Roll to the bottom of the Archipelago!

And now, ye coward sinners! (I'm a bold one, Scorning all here, nor caring for hereafter, A radical, a stubborn, and an old one) Behold! each riding on a burning rafter, The devils (in my arms I long to fold one) Splitting their blue and brazen sides with laughter, Play at snapdragon, in their merry fits, O'er some conventicle for hypocrites.

Ay, serve the skulkers, with their looks so meek, As they've, no doubt, served lobsters in their time, (Poor blacks! no Wilberforce for them can speak, Pleading their colour is their only crime,) Trundle them all to bubble and to squeak— No doubt they shut their ears against my rhyme, Yet sneak, rank elders, fearful of denials, To pick Susannahs up in Seven-Dials.

Brave fiends! for usurers and misers melt And make a hell broth of their cursed gold: On all who mock at want they never felt, On all whose consciences are bought and sold, E'en as on me, be stern damnation dealt, And lawyers, damn them all—the blood runs cold, That man should deal with misery, to mock it, And filch an only shilling from its pocket.

Ay, damn them all, a deep damnation wait On all such callous, crooked, hopeless souls! Ne'er mince the matter to discriminate, But let the devil strike them from the Rolls: 'Twill cheer their clients to behold their fate, And round their bonfires dance in merry shoals. Some poor men's tales I've heard upon my journies, Would make a bishop long to roast attornies.

Perhaps the thing may take another turn, And one smart shock may split the world in two, And I in Italy, you soon may learn, On t'other half am reeling far from you. No doubt 'twould split, where first it ought to burn, Across some city, that its sins should rue, Some wicked capital, for instance, Paris, And stop the melodrames from Mr. Harris.

Save London, none is wickeder, or bigger, An odious place too, in these modern times, Small incomes, runaways, and swindlers eager To fleece and dash; and then their quacks and mimes, Their morals lax, and literary rigour, Their prim cesuras, and their gendered rhymes,— Mine never could abide their statutes critical, They'd call them neutral or hermaphroditical.

True, their poor Play-wrights (truth, I speak with pain) Yield ours a picking, and I beg their pardon— 'Tis needless—down must come poor Drury Lane, And, scarcely less poor, down come Covent Garden: If we must blaze, no squabbles will remain That Actor's hearts against each other harden— Committees, creditors, all wrapped in flames, That leave no joke for Horace Smith or James.

In rebus modus est: whene'er I write I mean to rhapsodize, and nothing more— If some poor nervous souls my Muse affright, I might a strain of consolation pour,— Talk of the spotless spirits, snowy white, Which, newly clad, refreshing graves restore, And silvery wreaths of glory round them curl'd, Serenely rise above the blazing world.

Free, bursting from his mound of lively green, Wing'd light as zephyr of the rosy morn, The poor man smiling on the proud is seen, With something of a mild, forgiving scorn— The marbled proud one, haply with the mean, Sole on his prayer of intercession borne: Upward in peal harmonious they move, Soft as the midnight tide of hallow'd love.

The rich humane, who with their common clay Divided graciously, distinguished few; Good Christians, who had slept their wrongs away, In peace with this life, and the next in view; Strugglers with tyrant passion and its prey, Love's single hearted victims, sacred, true, Who, when dishonour's path alone could save, Bore a pure pang to an untimely grave—

Blest they, who wear the vital spirit out, Even thus, degrading not the holy fire, Nor bear a prostituted sense about, The misery of never quench'd desire, Still quench'd, still kindling, every thought devout Lost in the changeful torment—portion dire!— Return we to our heaven, our fire and smoke, Though now you may begin to take the joke!

What joke?—My verses—mine, and all beside, Wild, foolish tales of Italy and Spain, The gushing shrieks, the bubbling squeaks, the bride Of nature, blue-eyed, black-eyed, and her swain, Kissing in grottoes, near the moon-lit tide, Though to all men of common sense 'tis plain, Except for rampant and amphibious brute, Such damp and drizzly places would not suit.

Mad world! for fame we rant, call names, and fight— I scorn it heartily, yet love to dazzle it, Dark intellects by day, as shops by night, All with a bright, new, speculative gas lit, Wars the blue vapour with the oil-fed light, Hot sputter Blackwood, Jeffrey, Giffard, Hazlitt— The Muse runs madder, and, as mine may tell, Like a loose comet, mingles Heaven and Hell.

You shall have more of her another time, Since gulled you will be with our flights poetic, Our eight, and ten, and twenty feet sublime, Our maudlin, hey-down-derrified pathetic: For my part, though I'm doom'd to write in rhyme, To read it would be worse than an emetic— But something must be done to cure the spleen, And keep my name in capitals, like Kean.

[oldmanessays]

A Reflection On The Society That We Live In

Let us not murder equality, let us not create a divide, let us not weigh the aspects of the world we live in, measuring everything on a scale of biasedness. Let us not teach our children, the forerunners of the generation to arrive, that all Indians are my brothers and sisters, let us not tell them that the whole world is their family, let us not tell them that we are at war with some other country, that we are hell bent upon suffocating each other within, let us spare them the contradiction. Why embrace equality to finally murder it, our innocence begins to die since the very day we are born, raging psychopaths are we, if anything, for who conjures ethical principles only to wound them open and spill them as guts of innocents, a horrid dream for some, till it becomes a fairy tale notion. You are a Hindu, you are a Muslim, you are a Christian, You are a Jain – wait, why didn’t I begin the sentence with – you’re a Jain, or you’re a Muslim? If I had been born and brought up as a Catholic in America, I might have had initiated my lines with the aspects of being a Christian – see, it has steeped within our minds, infecting our subconscious – the prominence of dominence. A la a in George Orwell’s Animal Farm – ‘All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than the others’ – hence no matter who you are, residing in what so ever part of the world, a fragment of equality shall be denied to you, if you hold your rights back, they shall be snatched, if you fight for them, you would be fought back by people with a zero fundamental range who recite slogans of dementia, and the fight shall continue, until you’ve won or until they have succeeded in oppressing your voice. The righteous has a voice, for the ones the will of who is flawed enough to be judged as wrong, have brute force in the form of guns and bombs, tear gas and pellets, agents of wounds that age into scars, tears that end up nourishing revolutions. Look there goes a Kashmiri, frown upon him. Reason? Isn’t being a Kashmiri enough, he must be despising us, he should be despising this nation and if this form of trending propaganda doesn’t appeal you much, then I shall churn out one too many for you. Come close and I shall whisper in your ear, I whisper for I know, I shall sound rotten to the core – he is a Muslim too. What am I? A Hindu and I feel as if I am flowing in a stream of equality, I have always thought as such. For my life is such a bliss. All through my childhood, I was taught, that in Hinduism exists a caste system, synonymous to ranking – from the most elite in the society, to the most futile – Brahmin, Kshatriya, Vaishya and Shudra and not only this – I always thought I was a Kshatriya until my father told me that I was a Kayastha and we didn’t belong in any of the above-mentioned categories. And though we were categorised as ‘General’, we were signing petitions to be listed as ‘scheduled castes’, so that we can derive the quotas, that drive the undeserving to access and claim what should have had been rightfully belonged to the deserving. Reservations. Just because, forefathers of many were oppressed a hundred years ago, that means that the future generations of theirs shall be provided with special privileges indefinitely, thereby making up for all that they have lost, no matter if they really deserve it or not. I don’t hear of a black quota in America. Are we Indians coward enough, does hard work and putting up a fight to win over something scares us to such an extent that we adhere to means as mean as such? Now a days, those who are actually capable, those who actually deserve, lose a lot more due to this reservation system, and we don’t realize that in a way, history is repeating itself, if not on a grander scale, if there is no elephant in the room, yet this parasite of a system is sucking us dry. What is this system, where biased tactics thrive, and what’s rightfully someone’s, shall be taken away? It happened then, it’s happening now and it’s just like standing in front of a mirror when axis change but the sense of the scenario transpiring remains the same. Where is the essence of equality in that? I don’t get it.  As of being a Kayastha, my father told me that we specialized in writing and other aspects that involved a pen and a paper, but I cannot forget that a classmate of mine in college, a person replete with castists beliefs, was spreading rumors about me, relating them to my caste – hence, you honor, if there is any, if one tries to create a divide with respect to religions, I rest my case, for my religion is rotten enough in itself, that I did rather unfollow the notion, become an atheist and kill any form of religious perspective, that might have had ever existed in me. Thank you. Equality, is it? I believe in the rights of women, I travel via the metro, I witness the separate compartment reserved for them, I witness their reserved seats. All right by me. What is not right by me, if when you are in your twenties, leisuring about your reserved seat, hooked up on your phone, all fine – walking, talking, then how can you deny an elderly woman, who has a problem standing in a crowd, the people in which are basically sticking to one another? From when did our ethical human virtues were taken upon by one’s right as a woman. Finally, a guy stood up and offered his seat to the woman. Equality – woman fight for equality when they cannot stand for one another. My words can be criticized, but yes, a singular incident is exemplary for human nature. Women’s magazines, with women acting as editors, don’t feature obese women on their cover, no short woman, no physically flawed woman, no rape survivors, no acid attack victims – for once we can do without the glitz and the glam, for once we can consider all women equal, and start treating them equally amongst one another. That would be the first step. Same goes for Men’s magazine, same goes for the billboards that prostitute around entire cities, same goes for everything. The truth lies within the folds, it’s a pity we are not opening up. LGBT, people treat your sexuality as if a weapon, people even treat the notion of sex as an abomination. The reason for their very being is an abomination. Three cheers to that. If you��re gay, you shall be frowned upon, you shall be bullied, here in India, you can even be killed honorably. That’s the story, you are a walking talking nuclear weapon, hell you can even be infectious, you shall not be interacted with – and the funny part is, that many a people, who take pride in claiming that they stand with the LGBT movement, make use of words of the likes of ‘Gay’ and ‘Lesbian’ in manners that are nothing short of being derogatory. Hypocrisy, I tell you. And if that’s not enough, in comes racial bigotry. Brown people looking down upon blacks, yellow ones looking down upon brown, a white man looking down them all. Even here, even in our good old nation, if you are dark complexioned, you must be familiar with sarcastic slangs that find their derivation from the color of your skin tone. When not many, but a few in our own nation are racist, how offended are we, when we face racism in distant lands! Religion, sexuality, gender, color – and the forms of inequality have we derived from them are nothing but detestable. What should have had held us together, what should have blended everything in shades that please the eye – is tearing the world apart. And you know what, the most dangerous beings of all, the intellects, use your fallacies to their benefits. Yes, they understand what’s right, they understand what’s wrong, and they are spread everywhere, from politics to corporate enterprises, and yet they do nothing about it, because of narcissistic reasons, they want to be in power, they want to govern, they want differences to arise, they want the debate to go on and on and on, they love playing the puppeteer to us puppets. Every sane mind realizes that loving someone can in no manner what so ever be wrong, and yet, the government doesn’t legalize same sex marriages, owing only to one reason and one reason specifically – they don’t want to succumb to your demands, they want you to beg, plead and even fight them, for they want to show you who is in power, that who is ‘in-charge’. Such dismissive actions reflect of their importance. If the people in power grant us every single thing we demand, they shall be taken for granted, they shall not be regarded and owing to this, they prefer not to lose their Midas touch. That’s the recipe. The world today The world today- bans love, represses voices, kills innocents and chooses maniac clowns for leaders. Here, there, everywhere! Polish your principles to such an extent, that you, yourself, become the principle, then pick up a fight, for in the world as such, there are people who want to bring the change and people who want to stand beside revolutionaries and be noticed. They possess a greater threat than the one we believe we are facing. The change should first occur amidst ourselves, then should it be scattered like pollen in the world yonder, for the greater good.