Canonically, Elanor Doesn't Like Chocolate Except Occasionally When Mixed With Other Things.

One half of my otp: *dies*

Me: it’s funny how you think dying is going to get you out of this ship

Not to reinvent the wheel over here but humanity is sooo right about tea. It really is the perfect finnicky little thing to do. You can use it as an excuse to get up and transition to the next thing for yourself or with others; you can use tea as the centerpiece for socializing; you can use it as a meditative device or a comfort ritual or as medicine or to soothe pain or to set intentions or go to bed or to wake up. And most tea is pretty inexpensive, healthy and sometimes you can just harvest the ingredients yourself. And there's a set amount of time it takes to heat up the water and prepare your cup and let it steep, which is all part of a ritual that makes it fast but not instantaneous which is. Good.

Hamiathes's Gift Exchange 2025: Schedule Announcement!

The schedule is here, and well ahead of time this year! We're kicking off in about three months, and the schedule will be relatively close to last year's. This exchange is open to anyone with an AO3 account who wants to write a fic or make a piece of QT art. For more details on length, size, and logistics of the exchange, check out the FAQ linked at the bottom of this post.

2025 Schedule

Character/relationship/worldbuilding nominations: Thursday, July 17 - Thursday, July 24

Signups: Friday, July 25 - Sunday, August 3

Assignments sent out: Tuesday, August 5

Fanworks due: Friday, September 12

Fanworks revealed: Friday, September 18

Artists/authors revealed: Friday, September 26

All deadlines are at 8pm EDT

Note: If you don't have an AO3 account, you can request an invite here. There is currently a 3 week waiting list to get an invite, so please make sure you request one soon if you're considering participating!

If you have any questions about how the exchange works you can find last year's FAQ here. Check out past HGE works here! If you want a reminder when signups open, dm me!

I’ve been wanting for a while to do a comparison of Dante’s Divine Comedy with CS Lewis’ The Great Divorce, since the latter is very much modelled after the former (with George MacDonald in the place of Virgil) and they deal with very similar concepts.

My first inpression of the difference between them is that Dante develops a very specific and granular categorization and hierarchy on sins throughout the Inferno and Purgatorio, whereas to me all of the ones that Lewis showed were variations on a commonn theme of pride, the choice of one’s own opinions and preconceptions and self-image over heaven. In Lewis’ words, “There is always something they prefer to joy.” But as I think about it more closely, I think there are more specific correspondences between the two.

As Dorothy L. Sayers discusses in the introduction to her translation of the Commedia, there are two types of allegories: ones where all the characters are representations of specific concepts (such as in Spencer’s The Fairie Queen or Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress), or one where characters with their own names and identities can stand in for specific concepts: Virgil is Virgil, but he also represents Human Reason, Ciacco is an actual Florentine who existed, but he also represents gluttony, and so forth. This makes the characters more real and alive than the first type of allegories usually feel, and also allows the work to show nuances in its concepts by having multiple characters representing the same concept and so showing different nuances of it. Both the Commedia and The Last Divorce are the latter types, but they differ in how they design their characters: in the Commedia they are specific, named characters from Dante’s time, or from history, mythology, or the Bible. Lewis doesn’t do this (probably wisely; in an age of mass media, if he was sending MPs to Hell, any conversation about the books would be about that, and not about the book’s themes); instead he gives them epithets like the Big Ghost, and Hard-bitten Ghost, and Ghost in a Bowler; I will sometimes give them other names in this post. One of the thinfs this lets Lewis do is to deliberately subvert the prominence of famous religious and historical figures in the Comedy by having his celebrated and beloved ‘great saint’ in Heaven be not a figure from the Bible or later Christian history, but an ordinary woman named Sarah Smith with an ordinary life who was good, kind, and loving to everyone she met.

As an example of how Dante and Lewis work similarly and yet differently: the concept of Avarice. Dante shows it in both Hell and Purgatory, in different forms - people who ‘getting and spending, laid waste their powers’ (the Ciardi translation actually puts it similarly to that’. Lewis has no one who rejects Heaven based on desire for personal possessions; what he has instead is the character I’ll call the Economist, who says that the reason everyone in Hell spreads out (because they quarrel all the time) is because there are no commodities to drive them to live closer together, and tries futilely to bring back one of the - extraordinarily heavy, to him - apples of Heaven as such as commodity. (Is Lewis deliberately recalling the heavy rocks rolled by the Avaricious? Probably a stretch.) His problem is not a personal desire for riches, but the need to see the world in exclusively material terms and the only solution to problems as material ones.

Another example. Lewis, like Dante, has an example of heresy, and the connection between them came to me because of Sayers’ line in her commentary, quoting Charles Williams, that “the heretic accepted the Church, but preferred his own judgement to that of the church…an obduracy of mind, an intellectual obstinacy.” All of those traits are seen in one of Lewis’ ghosts, a self-identified Christian who denies the Resurrection and insists that one cannot know any spiritual truths for certain and that he wouldn’t want to, because it would prevent free inquiry and intellectual broadness. (In opposition to the heavenly spirit he is speaking to, who insists that the point of intellectual inquiry is to learn what is true.) This ghost has another particular trait that recurs in different forms a few times in The Great Divorce: he expresses the, on the surface laudable, sentiment that he’s not of any use in heaven whereas in hell he can help people. The recurrent sentiment - from him, from the Tragedian, from the Economist, from an artist (sort of), from a variety of planners and improvers who are mentioned in passing - is the need to be needed, and the two former of these are explicitly told that they are not needed, though they are certainly wanted and welcomed. The very gratuitousness of heaven leads some to reject it.

As a further example: the Sullen, in Dante, are one of the more problematic aspects of Hell, as their fate seems rather excessively harsh just for being grumpy (or melancholy, in you like). Lewis takes a bit of a different tack that sheds some light on it. There’s an elderly ghost in Heaven who we only see complaining to heavenly friend about how dreadful her life was. George MacDonald explains to Lewis that if she’s simply an old lady with a bad habit of grumbling, she’ll accept heaven and be well in the end; but if there’s nothing left of her but grumbling, there’s nothing to be done. The sullenness that Dante depicts is here shown as a person who is looking joy in the face, who is standing in the midst of joy, but is unable to see it in their focus in dwelling on past wrongs.

Curiously, Lewis - unlike Dante in the eighth and ninth circles - spends very little time on those who are deeply evil, beyond saying “Those that hate goodness are sometimes nearer it than those that know nothing at all about it and think they have it already.” Rather than Malice, the characteristic of the lowest levels of Dante’s hell, Lewis focuses on a range of forms of distorted love that, I think, we do not see equivalents to in the Commedia. The Commedia’s characterization of the roots of evil in forms of distorted or ill-governed love (or desire) is very helpful to this concept. Virgil (via Aristotle?) characterizes it in three classes: love of thy neighbour’s ill (Pride, Envy, and Wrath: desire to put someone down for your own aggradizement, resentment of someone’s rise because it dininishes you in comparison, and immoderate anger in response to wrongs), insufficient love (Sloth - which in Lewis would likely be represented by those who don’t get on the bus at all) and excessive love of earthly things (Avarice, Gluttony, and Lust).

Lewis takes his critique well beyond that to various forms of non-sexual love for people that are nonetheless harmful to them or others. (This gets into his idea, expressed in Till We Have Faces, that in the absence of grace all human loves are ultimately selfish.) There’s a woman, who in a determination to “improve” her husband socioeconomically and culturally, drove away all his friends and pushed him into a career that made him miserable until he ultimately died of sheer unhappiness, and on her visit to Heaven can speak of nothing but all the thankless work she did on his behalf, and futilely demand to be allowed to ‘manage’ him again. There’s a woman who loved her son so all-consumingly that she neglected everyone else in her life, and made them miserable after his death by reorienting her life and theirs entirely around mourning him.

Headcanon: Bilbo eventually evolves into something of a Santa Claus figure to Hobbits.

“It became a fireside-story for young hobbits; and eventually Mad Baggins, who used to vanish with a bang and a flash and reappear with bags of jewels and gold, became a favourite character of legend and lived on long after all the true events were forgotten.”

Mad Baggins was remembered for randomly appearing with money, but Bilbo Baggins was well known for being extremely generous with his, especially to people who weren’t too well off. Frodo, of course, is just as free with his fortune as Bilbo was, as is Sam when he comes into it, and even Lobelia with what she has left after Saruman’s occupation, and as “Baggins” begins to decline as a name, it becomes somewhat synonymous with charity, and this gets mixed up in the legends about Bilbo’s funny adventures and ridiculous stories until everything’s too tied together to separate.

Bilbo would give out lots of gifts in the winter, to ensure everyone had warm clothes and a roof that didn’t leak, which is how he eventually became tied to Yuletide, and the legends start out as, “Mad Baggins will share his fortune with those who truly need it,” and eventually evolves into, “Good little Hobbitlings might get gifts from Mad Baggins,” and there are all sorts of pageantry and games, like someone will dress up as Mad Baggins and use Hobbit stealth magic and sleight of hand to “appear” in various places, set off a firecracker, and then run for it, and anyone who can catch him can have some candy out of his bag.

Long after Hobbits stop having dealings with Dwarves, and perhaps even after they stop believing in them altogether, they become mystical figures attached to the Mad Baggins legend, coming and going as they please and answering to nobody; anybody who catches a Dwarf may get cursed, but they also may win a treasure off of them like nothing else (and the curses, of course, are the sorts of dreadful things Hobbits can think of; thin foot-hair for a season, or never finding something until you’re looking for something else).

You know those creepy ornate woodland Santas, or like, the horrible Victorian illustrations? They have those too: Mad Baggins (a bright red nose and curly golden hair around his ears, bald on the top of his head and wearing boots of all things) accompanied by thirteen dwarves and a troop of ponies, passing out gifts and then disappearing with more than Hobbit skill. But the classic image of Mad Baggins, the one that springs to mind when children think of him, and appears in whatever their version of The Night Before Christmas is, garbs himself in green and silver and carries a sword (quite an outlandish thing among Hobbits!), and laughs often, being a great lover of song and good food and drink and practical jokes.

And if sometimes the perfect gift does appear out of thin air with no reasonable expectation, well. They say he learned from wizards too, and even though all things are diminished in the latter days, nobody ever said they were going to dwindle to nothing, did they? And it sits well with certain entities that at the end of the day, this is what’s left of a certain Dark Lord’s legacy; a legend borrowing the incidental property of his magic talisman to grant invisibility to bring gifts to children.

Sophie's denial is literally the best part of the book because in 300+ pages she:

a) Managed to convince herself that the smile Howl was using was a special smile that he used specifically to attract women. And that's the only reason she "fell" for it.

b) Listed absolutely everyone around, from people to dogs, as the reason for her recent anger, but didn't mention the real reason, which she knew perfectly well was Howl visiting ms. Angorian.

c) Describied Howl's beauty in one line with insults in his direction, and thought it was completely normal.

d) Sewed a suit for him and accidentally enchanted it to attract women, them began to explain any positive feelings towards him with this.

e) Was ready to literally destroy the garden when it turned out that the suit was not the case and so couldn't blame her emotions on one from now on.

f) Created a murderous weed killer among her jealousy and specific dislike for lilies. Still couldn't explain it to herself.

g) Almost killed that one crazy daredevil who decided to come and tell her that she's actually down for him pretty bad with it.

h) Went so far into her denial that the thought that the person she was in love with did not love her was a relief for her because it meant that nothing would change and she could continue to be in it.

i) Almost killed the above-mentioned person with the above-mentioned weed killer because she did not want to face her own feelings And because she chose murder.

j) Pushed a person out the door out of sheer jealousy. Still didn't do what she was expected to do, though.

k) When her own crush on Howl finally started to dawn on her, she decided to go save the person she thought he was in love with. He very obviously wasn't.

l) And, in the end, continued to think so even when Howl came to save HER in an absolutely terrible state, almost afraid of the thought that his appearance was a sign of true love.

What a woman.

One of my favorite parts about the writing of Howl's Moving Castle is how easy it is to write off all the things from our world at first as him just being a weird wizard™ (also thanks to bestie @jutenium for spotting this I wouldn't put it like that without you!!/pos). Sure, Sophie uses weird descriptions, but readers have every reason to believe them because of the way Howl is presented as a character. When Sophie says he wrote with a quill that doesn't need an ink, you wouldn't think it was actually a ballpoint pen, you would think Howl had just enchanted his quill so that it wouldn't need ink! When she adds that she can't make out a single word, you think he has matchingly terrible handwriting, but in fact Sophie has simply never seen a pen writing. When she sees the mysterious labels on his books, you think he's keeping a lot of obscure magical literature, but it's really just an encyclopedia and a guide like "Top 10 Rugby Tips." When Sophie notices the bottles in Howl's bathtub, you think they're some kind of magical jars where he keeps girl's hearts, but I'm almost certain that they're just 'Dove' and 'Head and Shoulders' that he's enhanced with his spells and put silly labels on. When you read Calicifer singing a song in a language Sophie doesn't understand, you think it's some kind of ancient cipher or code, but it's actually just a rugby song in Welsh that Howl sings when he's drunk. And finally, when you see the terrifying black door, which is completely shrouded in darkness, you imagine a passage to an eerie, mythical place, similar to what Miyazaki showed us - but it's just fucking Wales.

What kind of a stupid superpower is Heart anyway?

The post about Frodo from earlier got me thinking about the underuse of Heart as a superpower in modern fantasy, by contrast to perhaps its overuse in older texts.

The idea that I started to get at in the tags is that Frodo is “above average” in a non-standard sort of a way, and that is in compassion.  His name, Maura, means Wise, and he’s very deliberately named after Froda, doomed king of the Hathobards, famed as a (failed) peace maker.  And that is what makes Frodo “special.”  He has other virtues, sure - heading off on the quest because it needs to be done even though he hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing takes a huge amount of gumption.  But that if anything goes into “hobbits are just kinda great that way.”  The thing that sets Frodo specifically apart is the wisdom to make peace and show compassion.  The Taming of Smeagol, which is for one reason or another really the last thing Frodo actually does as Main Character ™ is the single thing that allows the quest to succeed, and it is above and beyond what is normal and expected (contrast Sam’s reaction).  Because although Frodo ultimately falls, he does not, in fact, fail.  It takes Sam’s loyalty and determination to get them to Mount Doom, and it takes Gollum to get the ring into the volcano.  And it took Frodo’s compassion (and Bilbo’s pity) to get Gollum.

And this is a thing about Frodo.  He takes mercy on Gollum with the Taming of Smeagol, and he takes mercy on Saruman in the Scouring of the Shire.  It’s something he grows and develops into, but you can see the roots of this flavor of Wisdom even in how he reacts to Sam’s eavesdropping in the very beginning (despite the absence of eaves on Bag End).  Taking Sam along is the first major step towards ensuring the success of the quest.  It’s not just that Frodo needs help, it’s that (with some token stubbornness) he’s wise enough to accept help.  Kindness, Mercy, Compassion.

There’s an old style of fairy-tale which I have referred to as a “gift fairy-tale.”  And in it, the heroine’s superpower is, once again, kindness.  I had a book called Old Bony Legs, which was a version of the Baba Yaga story, and it went about like this.  There’s a little girl, who goes to see the witch, and packs a lunch - bread and butter, and a little meat.  When she gets to the gate it creaks, and so she gives it her butter to oil her hinges.  The gate is grateful and swings easily.  She likewise gives her meat to the cat and her bread to the dog, who in return giver her a magic comb and a magic mirror, and instructions on how to use them.  When she has to escape (because the wants to eat her), well, the gate opens easily before her, not even creaking to give away her flight, the comb becomes a thick forest, impeding the witch, and the mirror becomes a vast lake, ensuring her escape.  There’s a number of these sorts of stories, and the common pattern is this:

random acts of kindness/compassion –> gifts/debts from the powerful –> PROFIT

What makes the hero or heroine special, then, is the decision to be kind.  All the magic and power and whatever comes from outside, from the beneficiaries of that kindness.  The heroine succeeds not because she is Great, but because she gets help, and she gets help because she is compassionate.  Kindness, Mercy, Compassion.

So, my childhood was shaped, even before Tolkien, primarily by impoverished itinerant do-gooders called the Doctor.  Let’s talk about the other one.  Doctor Doolittle’s superpower is that he can talk to animals, right?  WRONG.  Doctor Doolittle’s superpower is that he’s a really nice guy.  One of the crucially important things in universe is that talking to animals is not an innate ability - anyone can learn it, if it occurs to them to try.  Tommy Stubbins, the Doctor’s apprentice, is training to be a great naturalist and he can talk to animals as well, or at least is learning.

The story is this.  John Doolittle, successful physician, acquires at some point an African Grey Parrot and names her Polynesia.  And, in an act of kindness, rather than training her to repeat a few words, goes all the way and just  teaches her English.  And she, in return, teaches him Parrot.  And, upon realizing that animals have languages and personalities as rich as humans, he gives up his practice and his respectability to be an animal Doctor - not a vet, but a Doctor who can actually communicate with his patients.  Because he cares.  He gives a voice to the voiceless and then stops and listens to what they have to say.  And, importantly, anyone could have done this, but only John Doolittle does, because only John Doolittle cares enough to try.

Dr. Doolittle has no superpowers.  He’s small, unassuming, quiet, unsuccessful (by human standards), penniless, a disgrace to his family, a joke to his colleagues, kind to a fault, trusting to the point of naivite, assuming the fundamental goodness of every living thing and returning it without question.  And every animal on earth (and on the moon, eventually) knows his name, and would do anything for him.  He is the Great Man.  And what’s so great about him?  Only this: he took the time to be kind.  Kindness, Mercy, Compassion.

There was a really fun comic about why all superpowers suck, if you only get one, and the only power that gets you everything without the drawbacks is Being Rich, as long as you don’t waste all your time angsting about your dead parents or trying to kill Superman.  But Dr. Doolittle is penniless, and flies to the moon on the back of a giant moth, and moves mountains with the help of some friendly whales.  Frodo Baggins sells everything he has to set off into the vast unknown - but he has a magic sword given in friendship by a King of Dwarves, a light when all other lights go out given in friendship by a Queen of Elves, and a loyal friend to wield them both (not to mention a King of Men as a guide through the wilderness).  Little Sasha has only her lunch and she gives that away - and yet throws behind her magics powerful enough to defeat Baba Yaga herself.  One of my favorite lines in one of my favorite Doctor Who episodes is this:

“We couldn’t change our future - but we talked to people, influenced them, and they changed it for us.”

The best superpower is Heart.

happy april fools. please take this egg

hahahahahha………………..

youve been fooled………………by the april fools beeper……………..it was a fully grown bird the entire time…..no egg………………it tells u it hopes u hav a good april 1st

MicroFlashFic on Twitter did a lovely series for Holy Week and I wanted them preserved in one place.

All tweets described/text copied into the alt text for each screenshot.