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flickeringart · 3 years

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Minor aspects

While the nature of the major aspects in astrology is quite straightforward and has been covered more than sufficiently, there’s still a lot of fog surrounding the nature of the minor ones. There are a lot of minor aspects that can be taken into consideration when interpreting a chart… however, since they are labeled minor they won’t be as obvious and much more difficult to spot in one’s own life. Note that this doesn't mean that they aren't impactful. There’s a lot of speculation and vague terms used when describing them. It seems that every minor aspect is said to have a “spiritual/creative dimension” as if that is supposed to clear up any of the mystery surrounding them. Perhaps, on one level, we don’t want to pin them down too much because certainty is the enemy of exploration. Or perhaps it’s the case that the aspects themselves don’t want to be pinned down? There’s an appeal in keeping certain things mysterious in our lives, to avoid defining and putting rigid labels on phenomena. It makes life alive and beautiful. Many people dismiss astrology is because they are afraid that they’re going to be reduced to a set of characteristics and have their personality mapped up to the point of being able to predict and foresee patterns of behavior and fated themes. The fear of knowledge is not irrational; it is probably healthy to an extent. Knowing too much can be dangerous and rob life of its magic. “Curiosity killed the cat”, as the saying goes. However, this is not the whole truth because curiosity also leads to expansion and better understanding, so let’s not be afraid to concretize these aspects, it's not the same as "killing" their potential. Life is never completely in our hands anyway, there's no risk of knowing it all.

Quintile (72°)/Bi-quintile (144°)

These aspects are said to have something to do with individual style and quality of creative work. It is suggested that these aspects say something about a mental-creative process of imposing one’s mind on a particular subject. It is also linked to talent and gifts the individual would possess that have not been actively learned. Basically, it seems to be indicative of the particular way a person would approach a subject. For example, the quintile would not describe the activity itself - the activity could be painting, knitting, running, cleaning or whatever – the quintile/bi-quintile would point to the way the person approaches the activity.

For example, Ted Bundy (whose chart I’ve explored a bit here), has Neptune bi-quintile the MC. Neptune, being the planet of illusion hints to Bundy’s quality of being a chameleon, deceiving the public as part of his personal style.

Prince Harry, (whose chart I’ve touched upon before), has his Moon bi-quintile Neptune. The Moon can be indicative of the mother figure, and his mother Princess Diana certainly had an elusive style and charm that was a bit deceptive and seductive. Of course, he would have the same thing going in his own life but it would perhaps be difficult for us to spot. He also has Moon quintile Venus and he definitely has a style/quality of emotional-physical comfort. He has Pluto quintile the AC, which would point to a style of showing up in the world that is powerful and intense. He has a tendency to come off as destructive and chaotic at times. There’s also a quintile aspect forming between Mercury in the 8th house and the MC which would hint to a public image that is colored by the “taboo” things he has said about his family in the recent present, but also in the past. He’s a public image that is aligning with the style of the playful amoral trickster.

As I’m going with charts I’ve already explored, let’s look at the quintiles in Meghan Markle’s chart. Her Venus is quintile Uranus and it perfectly describes her style of “wokeism”, that is, appearing to be objective and intelligent about feelings and affective values. She has a style of being “the loving humanitarian”. Whether she is this way in an actual sense is debatable. The quintile aspect is describing the quality and style not the actuality. But, it is disturbingly close to reality that it somehow becomes reality. It’s like the actor who adopts another energy signature in order to portray a different person. It doesn’t really matter if a person is rotten at the core - if he has a loving way of being, what difference does it make? The style is real enough to not reflect and give the impression of love.

Semi-square (45°) / Sesquiquadrate (135°)

These aspects are said to precipitate events. The nature of these two aspects is more immediate than the square aspect (which causes tension and doubt and needs constant navigation). The conflict represented is usually unconscious and is therefore not easy to identify. However, as these conflicts tend to manifest quite abruptly, we can take a look at the concrete problems the person faces. The planets connected by a semi-square/sesquiquadrate aspect will be in conflict but force some kind of release (that may result in an accident because of it’s autonomous/unconscious function).

I have Saturn sesquiquadrate my Moon. Since I tend to unconsciously block my emotional responses, the pressure builds and I am “forced” to get out of a situation, “forced to listen to my emotions”. I have encountered the theory that the sesquiquadrate in particular is manifesting as something that is looked down upon societally. This would make sense considering the aspect forces a breakout of one of the planets and nothing that is immediate and abrupt is ever favorably looked upon when it comes to social-societal structure and predictability. I have been meaning to take on commitments that would further my status in society in terms of formal education (Saturn in the 9th conjunct the MC) but I have not been able to do it without considerable decline in my emotional well-being. So, I have been “thrown out” by unconscious forces every time I’ve tried.

My sister has her Venus sesquiquadrate Saturn. She’s known for her deliberate and strategic way of dressing. She plans her outfits carefully, there’s nothing haphazard about the way she presents herself. However, she has Lilith conjunct Venus so she can push the limits and simply do what she pleases sometimes as well when the pressure of Saturn becomes too much. But, this often causes external judgment. A relative of mine has her Sun semi-square Venus. I can tell that she’s highly aware of her appearance. She is very pretty but there’s always something that is a bit off between what she wears and her self-expression. It’s like it doesn’t quite fit and it’s irritating.

To get back to the celebrities, Meghan Markle has Neptune sesquiquadrate Mercury. Is it possible that this forces distortion and vagueness in opinion and communication? It would certainly fit the bill. She also has Uranus sesquiquadrate Mars. She simply has to “break out of her confining situations”, cut people out of her life and move on in her own way. Uranus is also sesquiquadrate her MC, which seems to point to her unconscious pull to “do what she wants to do” at the detriment of her public image and reputation. Notably, Uranus sits in her 5th house of personal enjoyment and creation.

Prince Harry has a semi-square between Mars and Pluto. When he is angry it blossoms into rage and he can’t see straight. It has gotten him into quite a lot of trouble and societal-social disapproval. It seems that this is a common theme with the sesquiquadrate and semi-square. He also has his Moon sesquiquadrate Jupiter. Isn’t it the case that he tends to indulge in a way that makes him look bad in society?

Quincunx (150°)

This aspect is typically found between planets incompatible by element and mode. Basically, they have nothing in common and have a hard time cooperating, which will cause minor stress in the individual because of necessity to work around the incompatibilities. The planets are not in direct conflict but they are uncomfortable with each other.

For example, I have my Moon quincunx Mercury. Every time I sit down to write I’m mildly disturbed by little things like an aching back, a headache, restless legs or whatever. It’s not very comfortable for me but I can still keep with it, however it might take a toll on me health wise. The quincunx has been related to health issues because of the mild stress that it causes. It is manageable and one is usually able to cope with the stress, but it’s not very pleasant. Because it is not as demanding as more disturbing conflicts in one’s life, it’s in the background causing irritation.

Meghan Markle’s Venus makes a quincunx aspect to her MC. This suggests that she has a hard time reflecting her value on a public level, it’s as if how she’s perceived publicly disturbs her sense of ease and comfort. She has an Aries MC with a Virgo Venus and she’s continuously depicted as a bully these days, as some kind a selfish and aggressive bitch (the more negative attributes of Aries). This must be undermining her self-worth immensely, however, it’s perhaps too minor of a problem to do anything about. It is still there nonetheless, harping on in the background, breaking her down and causing slow disintegration…

Semi-sextile (30°)

Planets forming semi-sextile aspects are said to be able to aid each other, to have a better connection than if they had no link at all. Usually one planet is in the sign that comes before the sign of the other; in other words, a semi-sextile might be forming between Mars in Aries and Venus in Taurus. The semi-sextile usually connects consecutive sign like this, but planets could be in semi-sextile in the same sign, like Mars in 0° Taurus semi-sextile Venus in 30° Taurus. In any case, the planet placed at an earlier degree or in the earlier sign can draw on qualities of the planet in the later degree or the later sign and vice versa. For example, Prince Harry’s Venus in Libra is semi-sextile his MC. He can draw on his sense of harmony a diplomacy to benefit his public image. His Mars in Sagittarius is also semi-sextile his MC, which makes it so that he can draw from his Martial qualities of energy and action to influence his career and success.

Parallel/Contra-parallel

These are called aspects in declination because they are measured by latitude and not by longitude. This essentially means that two planetary bodies can aspect each other in a certain way measuring the distance between them north-south of the celestial equator. Two planets at the same degree north and south of the equator form a parallel aspect and can be interpreted the same as a conjunction (some say that it's more obscure like a quincunx/semi-square). Two planets opposite each other north and south form a contra-parallel aspect and can be interpreted as an opposition (some say that it's basically the same as the parallel though).

I have found, looking at my own chart that these aspects only confirms already existing aspects measured by longitude or it confirms the sign that a specific angle is in. For example, my MC is in Aries and it is also parallel Mars. Mars is the ruler of Aries so it emphasizes my already martial MC. My Sun is conjunct Saturn and it’s also parallel Saturn. My sister has a Scorpio MC and it’s also parallel Pluto, the natural ruler of Scorpio. For example, my sister has a wide Moon-Mars conjunction (6°) but they are also in contra-parallel. How is this supposed to be interpreted? I would simply see it as Moon-Mars is connected strongly despite the orb being a little wide with the conjunction.

However, it’s not always the case that parallel and contra-parallel aspects only confirms already existing influences. They can also add themes and connections. My sister doesn’t have any longitude aspects between Saturn and Uranus but they are contra-parallel to each other.

Septile (51.43° - a 1/7 of the 360°)

It is said to indicate a hidden flow of energy between the planets involved, an inner sensitivity to the spiritual dimension of the planets. Another description I have come across is that the planets “darkly interact” and there’s an occult theme surrounding the connection.

I have Venus septile Jupiter in my own chart. Going by the said method of interpretation, it would mean that I have sensitivity to the hidden wealth and underlying beauty and abundance in life. I think it is quite accurate.

Novile (40° - 1/9 of the 360°)

Is said to be describing a contact of perfection/idealization. It also seems to have something to do with spiritual awakening and growth, lack of fear and freedom.

Having Sun novile Saturn for example could be interpreted as a feeling of communion with the world and life itself through responsibility and the control one can exercise through self-expression.

----

There are of course other minor aspects to explore, but I'll stop here for now.

#astrology #aspects in astrology #minor aspects #minor aspects in astrology #quintile #bi-quintile #semi-square #sesquiquadrate #quincunx #parallel and contra-parallel #aspects of declination #prallel aspects #contra-parallel aspects #septile #novile #aspects in the natal chart #aspects #aspects in declination

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hhjs · 3 years

Text

love or lack thereof.

pairing — felix x reader

genre / trope — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k

warnings — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences.

note — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him.

“I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know.

“Did he make you laugh?”

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say,

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually.

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.” You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

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amysubmits · 3 years

Note

Hi Amy! If I recall correctly, you and CD were a couple before you formally established yourself as a having a D/s dynamic? How long did it actually take you both to learn enough about the lifestyle, become confident in your roles, and feel “legitimate.” My partner and I are so new and it feels like our dynamic is very flimsy due to inexperience. I guess I want to know what is a normal amount of first dynamic awkwardness and what might hint at a problem (incompatibility, disinterest, etc. etc.)?

Hello!

Yes, we were together for a few years before we started intentional D/s.

Your question is a really good one and I am not sure I have a real definitive answer, unfortunately. I imagine it may vary quite a lot?

I'll share some personal experience but keep in mind this is just us and others are likely different. Also keep in mind this is like 6 years ago for us so my memory is probably imperfect.

By far the most awkward feeling thing for me was punishments. From what I recall that awkwardness at least started to fade after a few times of it happening.

Some more casual aspects of our D/s never really felt awkward to me. And then on occasion, we still have awkward moments. We had an awkward moment yesterday, oddly enough. I think awkwardness with D/s can sometimes just be a lack or confidence or clarity in what is expected, but that doesn't necessarily mean that either (or both) of you aren't comfortable with your portion of the dynamic.

But then other times I do think it feeling awkward or unnatural can be a sign that it's not right for that person. I recall reading a blog post a long time ago where someone said that after trying D/s for a long time their partner confessed that they had always felt like they were pretending to be someone else or like they were acting when trying to be dominant. I don't know that I can put a specific timeframe on it, but I do think that if one person feels like they're acting when they're doing D/s after they've been trying it for a good while then that's likely a sign that it's not right for them.

Though it may also just be a sign that the specific style of D/s isn't right, too. I think I would always feel really awkward trying to do high-protocol D/s stuff, for example. Because that just isn't my style of submission so I don't think how much experience I had at it would make it feel more natural to me.

I guess in a way it's easier for me to share signs that it IS working, rather than signs that it's not?

For me some clear signs that it is right for your partner would be:

They suggest aspects of D/s that they want to try out or incorporate in your dynamic. For example, they suggest a new form of protocol, or express that they'd like you to start asking permission for something specific, or they suggest a certain rule.

They show naturally dominant behavior. They lead or take responsibility kind of instinctually. This will be subtle behaviors that are "vanilla" in a sense...if you're new to D/s you may not be very aware of what subtle natural dominance looks like, so it could be right under your nose and you aren't really recognizing it. But basically any sort of instructing, guiding, leading. It is often forms of service or caregiving though those can be hard to detect as dominant or not as submissives are also naturally drawn to service and caregiving a lot of the time...and of course people who aren't doms or subs often do, too. I guess maybe it's about whether they perform service or caregiving with the intent of taking responsibility for others?

They reject or negotiate your ideas for your D/s. Sounds a little backwards, right? But when someone is trying to do D/s just to please the other person, they'll often just agree to everything the other person suggests. If your partner says "Nope, that rule/ritual/protocol doesn't work for me, not doing that." then that's a sign that the other aspects of D/s that they have agreed to are things they really do want to do or at least are truly comfortable with trying out.

They initiate conversations about your dynamic or D/s in general. Again, this is a sign that it's an interest of theirs, too.

You can see or feel that they have an emotional reaction to your submission. I don't mean to suggest that you should sense that they have warm fuzzies every time you ask permission for something. And in a new dynamic it may take a good bit of exploring different aspects of D/s before you find what really 'does it' for them. It can be a complex thing to make happen sometimes. But when someone really strongly feels your submission and it really does something for them emotionally...you can see it and feel it.

Something to keep in mind is that most of these would be signs that you would see eventually...not necessarily early on. I think sometimes people can be naturally dominant or naturally submissive, but they aren't aware of it so they start D/s for the other person, and then discover how powerful D/s feels for them personally. That's kinda what happened for CD and I. It took a little bit for us to figure out what aspects of D/s spoke to him most...but once we got it, it was very obvious that we had sparked something major.

Despite finding that 'spark' spot...I think we did still continue to grow more and more confident with each other and our D/s over time. In some ways Tumblr helped, seeing what D/s looks like for others and seeing similarities between ourselves and others helped me to realize that we 'fit' in the D/s world...though there are also a lot of ways that we differ from others so I guess I can also see how online communities or seeing others' D/s can hurt more than help...but I think for us at least, it mostly helped. I think we were probably a few years in when our confidence in our D/s really peaked? And that basically came from hardships, honestly. I think seeing ourselves have to adapt to managing D/s in really tough circumstances helped us to gain confidence that this is absolutely who we are because we're going to hold onto it no matter what. Exactly what it looks like may vary quite a bit depending on circumstances, but it's not something we can let go of. For me, for whatever reason, that realization was really empowering.

I also think part of it is that you just have to trust that your partner will say so if they decide that it doesn't feel good to them or they don't want to keep trying. Hopefully if they say they want to keep trying it's because they're either 'feeling it' or they're at least interested in continuing to explore to see if they find something that does make them really 'feel it'.

I hope this is somehow helpful! I feel like it's really all over the place, but I think what you're trying to determine is just a really complex thing, and one that sometimes takes quite a lot of time to truly determine.

#asks #amy writes a damn book #sorry #I've never been able to do 'short'#d/s #domestic discipline #new to d/s #vanilla to d/s

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nitewrighter · 3 years

Note

I just finished reading the pre-fall Gency argument fic that you made in response to an ask/prompt about another fic, and it’s amazing! Do Genji and Mercy make up after their argument, though? Does Genji tell Mercy more about what really happened with Moira in the Pining/Flight fic, and does he manage to explain to her why he felt he should still be stopping the Shimada clan (the part where he started to trip over his words during the pre-fall argument)? I’m so sorry for all the questions, but I loved this fic so much and would love to see them resolve their argument!

Yeah they make up, but more importantly have you ever gone, “OH FUCK I FIGURED OUT HOW TO WORK THIS FIC INTO A MAJOR CANON PLOT POINT?” Anyone?

Continuing off of this ficlet.

----

Genji lay on his narrow bed, staring at the too-high ceiling of his quarters and replaying the argument between himself and Mercy in his head as he had done so for the past few days.

I messed up.

A part of him felt like he should be used to it, after years of Hanzo telling him he was an embarrassment, but this stung differently and deeper. It wasn’t not meeting the draconian standards of the clan, it was realizing he had a perspective on death that was fundamentally incompatible with the morals of someone he cared for deeply. He glared at the ceiling as he remembered Moira’s words.

You’re finally understanding the difference between those up there, and those of us down here.

But McCree had spoken up against what Reyes had done. He wouldn’t shut up about it the whole mission.

Well he and Angela were close so... Genji’s thoughts trailed off then, wondering if Ziegler and McCree would talk about how he and Reyes were monsters.

Even after having his body destroyed and reconstructed to this patchwork of flesh and metal, it had at least given him focus and purpose: vengeance. It was a relief from all the pain to commit himself to the destruction of the Shimada clan, to killing Hanzo, and he could have done that through Blackwatch, but now one death of someone who definitely had it coming had blocked the path. He had no way of knowing what was ahead, and he had just alienated one of the few people at the Watchpoint he actually liked talking to. But she didn’t get it, the Shimada clan had to be stopped. Hanzo had to die. What kind of world did she think she was living in? He raised his prosthetic hand and ran the thumb of his organic hand along the lines of its plates.

You’re not a weapon. I can’t let everything Overwatch touches become a weapon... he remembered her words from the garden on a night that felt so long ago.

So what am I? Shimada Ninja? Blackwatch Agent? Assassin by another name? Machine? his eyes trailed to his organic hand, Man?

He let his hands drop, hanging over the sides of the bed, I guess I’ve managed to screw up as every single one of those.

His morning alarm started beeping and he sighed. Cybernetics always woke him up a little too early.

After freshening up in the dormitory washrooms and dressing , Genji stepped out of his quarters and walked down the hall to the main body of the Blackwatch facilities. There were fewer bodies moving between the offices today. A significant number of office workers and agents had been either suspended or relocated to other Overwatch operations, and the remaining faces looked exhausted and grim.

It’s not just Angela dealing with the fallout of Venice... thought Genji as he walked through. He needed to talk to McCree, he decided. He wasn’t quite ready to talk to Angela yet. A part of him knew he needed to apologize, but another part of him knew an apology was worthless without a clear adjustment in behavior and perspective--and with the path before him so obscured now, he wasn’t sure what that shift would entail. Plus if anyone knew how to smooth things over between people, especially someone also from Blackwatch...

Genji’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard muffled shouting from Reyes’s office. He looked around and saw what few agents were down in the Blackwatch offices had all chosen to give Reyes’s office a massively wide berth. One intern lingered close to the glass with wide eyes before being quickly escorted away by a more seasoned-looking clerk. The glass walls around Reyes’s office had been tinted opaque, but he made out Morrison’s muffled voice.

“---can assure you our agents and local law enforcement are doing everything they can, Gérard--”

“Don’t give me that!” Gérard was the shouter, something that sounded unnatural to Genji given how polite Gérard had always been in his previous brushes with the UN Attaché. “None of this would have happened if you had kept Reyes and his team where they needed to be!”

“We don’t have enough intel on Talon movements to know the timeframe on---”

“We have even less intel because of the shit you pulled in Rialto! Do you know how many active files I had to surrender to the UN Inquiry to keep Blackwatch from being completely gutted?!” Gérard snapped, “Talon took my wife and thanks to you I have to deal with that with both hands tied behind my back!”

“You’re not dealing with it alone--” Morrison was trying to reassure him.

“Morrison I cannot tell you how sick I am of covering for you covering for Reyes--And the fact that covering for Reyes is largely my job speaks to how much control you’ve ceded--” Gérard snarled.

“Chewing us out won’t get her back,” Reyes’s voice cut in bitterly.

“No, but you should both understand it’s one more product of your mistakes,” Gérard’s voice was thick.

Genji hadn’t realized how close he was leaning to the tinted glass of the office and started briskly walking down the hall, trying to put as much distance between himself and whatever was going down between Reyes, Morrison and LaCroix. He heard the door slide open and shut and picked up the pace of his walk. He heard bitter muttering in French a ways behind him before hearing, “Agent Shimada?”

Genji pretended not to hear and started walking a bit faster down the hall.

“Agent Shimada!” there was a rapid clacking slap of expensive oxfords on the cement floor and Gerard suddenly caught up with him. Fast, was all Genji thought at first, I guess he was a field agent at some point-- But that trail of thought cut off as Genji took in the disheveled appearance of the usually suave and stylish Gérard Lacroix. Licks of dark hair were shrouding one side of his forehead, broken free of their usual glossy black coif. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket or tie, his sleeves rolled and rumpled up to his elbows and his usually paper-crisp collar rumpled and wilting, his suspenders emphasizing all the wrinkles of his usually immaculate shirts. He smelled like cigarettes. Genji didn’t even know he smoked.

“I need to talk to you--it’s paramount importance--Your dossier said Talon tried to recruit Sojiro once--Yes?”

“Um... yes?” said Genji.

“Do you remember any names from that time?” Gérard gripped Genji’s shoulders and Genji’s arms tightened at his sides at the touch, Gérard’s eyes were wide, pleading.

“Er...” Genji hesitated.

“Anything. Any name at all. Even aliases are a lead. Code names are a cypher. I can figure this out. We can get her back--we have to--there should have been demands--there have to be demands--we can’t negotiate but we can buy time--isolate the signal--” Gérard’s fingers were drumming on Genji’s prosthetic shoulder as if punching out sums on an invisible calculator. He wasn’t even looking at Genji.

“I... wish I could help,” Genji’s words came slowly to him. They felt strange, soft, helpless. He really couldn’t remember any names from that time, at least none that he could be sure he actually remembered and hadn’t just pulled out of nowhere that would only lead Gérard on a wild goose chase. For Genji, the only really memorable part of that meeting had been Hanzo had taken a shine to some Talon lieutenant and refused to tell Genji about it when he asked.

So much for specialized Shimada intel... Genji thought a little bitterly. But Gérard stared straight into Genji’s eyes and Genji saw a flicker of heartbreaking realization in Gérard’s expression.

“....listen to me,” Gérard’s voice dropped slightly as his hands dropped from Genji’s shoulders, “I....I’m talking to a suspended agent hoping for nearly decade-old leads...” Gérard made a sound that was between a chuckle and stuffing down a sob as he pushed those dark licks of hair from his face, “I’m a mess without her.”

Genji’s stomach stung a little at the words ‘suspended agent.’ It had felt so temporary but hearing it from Gérard made it sink in as a reality with no visible end, but just as affecting was Gérard’s distress, the fact that the charming, if a little litigious, agent was suddenly up to his neck in paralyzing fear and helplessness when he wasn’t the one in danger. Genji studied Gérard for a few seconds.

“Without.... who?” said Genji. He knew it was Gérard’s wife but wasn’t about to let Gérard know he had heard the whole exchange between him, Reyes, and Morrison.

“Amélie,” Gérard seemed to be looking through Genji then, his brow crinkled, “Talon they--I mean we’re not positive yet but--well you aren’t cleared for this yet. I shouldn’t...”

“Suspended,” Genji shrugged, “And... looking like this, I can’t exactly get off-site to talk about it.”

Gérard huffed “And... I’ve heard you’re not exactly the talkative type,” Gérard smiled a little.

“Ninja,” Genji shrugged.

“I-I think she’d like you...” His shoulders sagged, “Practical... steady... if she were here she’d probably tell me I’m making a fool of myself.”

You are and I have no idea how to help you so please let me go, thought Genji, but the smile on Gérard’s face eased him a bit. Genji wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling--helping and yet not helping. He remembered certain looks in Mercy’s face when he would talk about the Shimada clan, those hints of wanting to do something but feeling the ability to do so just beyond his reach. How often did she feel that with all of his fury? With all his grief?

“I wish I understood what was going through Reyes’s mind in Rialto...” Gérard spoke and startled Genji from his own thoughts.

“...Antonio told him his associates would get him out within the week, Reyes... responded... practically,” said Genji.

“Practically,” a huff fell out of Gérard, “Just like in the debriefs.”

Genji’s brow crinkled. “The point of Blackwatch is to operate from the shadows. It was never about how it would be seen because it... wasn’t meant to be seen.”

“But it still has effects,” Gérard murmured, “And you still have to live with yourself afterwards.”

You still have to live with yourself.

The image of Zhihong Peh gurgling on his own blood on the end of Genji’s sword flashed to his mind. The thwack of his father hitting a fish on a rock in Shirakami-sanchi.

Make it clean. Make it quick.

“Would Amélie still have been taken if...?” Gérard’s voice pulled Genji from his memories again, but Gérard just lowered his head and furrowed his brow. “It doesn’t matter now. have to find a new angle. I have to... she...” he lifted his chin slightly, “Monsieur Shimada. I appreciate you putting up with the ravings of a madman. I must go. Thank you.”

“....you’re welcome?” said Genji, but Gérard was already walking past him.

Genji stood there in the hallway a few minutes longer. Amélie LaCroix had been taken. Whether or not that had happened in response to killing Antonio remained to be seen... but it was clear that the fallout from Rialto had not helped. He looked at his hands. For so long ‘practical’ had been a straight line, but now it seemed that the path he had been carving out was caving in on him. What was practical now?

Whatever you can do to help.

And where do you start?

With the people who you know always help.

----

It was late at night in the lab and Mercy was nodding off slightly, her chin in her hand at her monitor when a coffee mug gently clacked down on the desk beside her. She flinched awake and her head swung around to see Genji slowly withdrawing one hand, holding his own coffee cup in the other.

“Peace offering,” said Genji, “...if you don’t want to deal with me right now, you don’t have to. Say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Mercy tentatively picked up the mug and sipped at it, glaring at Genji slightly through her eyebrows before lowering the cup into her lap.

“What do you want?” she said, her voice clipped.

“I wanted to say... I’m sorry for storming off like that and...You were right,” Genji said quietly, “Killing Antonio creates far more problems than it solves.”

There was some hope in Mercy’s eyes, but she also gave him a sort of uneasy, puzzled look.

“And...” Genji’s voice was a bit more tight, “On a... lawful and ethical level, it... was wrong.” He dropped his voice to a low mutter, “Even if he would have wormed his way out of the law.”

Mercy huffed and smiled a little. “I... I know the law also needs reforms so that doesn’t happen, so that justice can be done... but in the meantime...”

“In the meantime we shouldn’t shoot people in the face,” Genji conceded with a shrug.

“Right,” said Mercy. Her smile was a little crooked. There was a long silence then, tentative, and a little anxious. Genji leaned against the desk, wrapping his organic hand around the mug, taking some comfort in its warmth.

“Angela—I need you to understand something about me,” Genji said, not looking at her.

“Please don’t—“ Mercy started.

“Just listen. The first time the clan made me kill someone, I was 14 years old,” Mercy’s eyes widened and Genji’s knuckles rolled tight on the coffee mug, “And that wasn’t the only person I killed for them.

Mercy’s shoulders shrank inward, her eyes not meeting his.

“The clan,” Genji paused and took a steadying breath before continuing, “Worked to make me into something… no one should be. It…cultivated a way for me to see the world that very much affected my concepts of what is acceptable. What is good.” He gave a short huff. “But I don’t… I don’t want to be them. I don’t want to cause the same hurts they have caused.”

She looked at him then. That same searching look. That same ‘I want to help but I don’t know how’ look, and Genji’s stomach stung with the strange helplessness he felt when Gérard was gripping his shoulders earlier that day.

“But Blackwatch never asked me to question what the clan taught me. It just… saw I was angry, saw I was hurt, and pointed me in a certain direction,” he huffed, “And now I’m stuck here. And I can’t do anything. And... ” he took a steadying breath, “I care about you. I care about our friendship. And I care about what you think of me. I don’t know... if I will ever be fully rid of what the Shimada clan cultivated in me... it... it feels like it only got sharper after what Hanzo did to me. It feels rooted in my very survival instincts. But I know I don’t want to be Reyes, and I don’t want to lose you, and... if what Blackwatch did caused all this hurt to all these people who had nothing to do with what happened in Rialto.. it’s true that it should be suspended.”

Mercy blinked a few times. “Do you really mean that?”

“Well... to an extent...” said Genji, “If Blackwatch still had its intel networks up...”

“Maybe we could help Gérard find Amélie,” Mercy said quietly.

“You know about Gérard?” Genji looked over at her.

“I only got the briefing a few hours ago,” said Mercy. She was quiet for a few seconds. “Genji... I... I don’t think you’re a bad person for what the Shimada clan conditioned you to do. You do scare me sometimes, but I genuinely believe, deep down, you want to do good.”

“I scare you?” Genji lifted his prosthetic hand and looked down at it.

“Not because of that...” Mercy touched the metal of his knuckles and he let his hand drop as his eyes raised to hers, “I--I’m scared for you. I don’t want you to think you’re alone. And--and I want you to be able to have a life outside of Overwatch.” She huffed. “That’s what it does. It takes in people who have nowhere else to go and who just want to help and it takes everything they can give and you never know if it’s being used to help or to...” her voice trailed off and she was staring forward. Genji touched her shoulder gently.

“For what it’s worth... without Overwatch I would have never met you,” said Genji.

“I’m glad I’ve met you too,” said Mercy, smiling a little, “Silver linings right?”

“Right...” said Genji.

A long pause passed between them.

“...so where do we go from here?” said Genji, quietly.

“Well... I still have my work... I suppose this means we can spend more time together?” Mercy shrugged, “And... with Blackwatch suspended... maybe you can take some time to figure out what you want. Outside of Overwatch. Outside of taking down the Shimada clan.”

I don’t know how ready I am to deal with that, thought Genji, but he just nodded.

“So...” Genji swirled his coffee in its mug, “What are you working on tonight?”

“Well... apparently there’s been this incident at Watchpoint Pembrey,” said Mercy, glancing back to her monitor, “But it’s very confusing on, well... a physics level?”

“Something is confusing the genius Angela Ziegler?” Genji pulled up a chair, “Tell me more.”

Mercy snickered a little. Then started telling him.

#gency #gerard lacroix

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lacrimaomnis · 3 years

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BRF Reading, 15/7/2021 (Part One)

Background: The ask I received from an anon earlier today made me wonder about something -- but for that, I have to indulge in a little bit of a ramble here.

If you have read my about page here, you will know that I have been an on and off royal watcher for some time. I know about Harry and Meghan's wedding, and while there was something I couldn't put my fingers on back then, I definitely did not lean towards warming up to her, which was normal for me. Catherine got married when I was too young to understand and to have a care for the world, and so, when I started royal-watching, I did not warm up to Catherine quickly either. But if there is anything I know, even if I did not warm up to Catherine sooner, is that Catherine and Wiliam married for love. I believe that much.

Now, Harry and Meghan, on the other hand, feels...I don't know how to say it, but it feels like there were tied hands back then when they married. So I have two questions, which I will read in two days. I planned to read twice in one day, but I am just too tired and sleepy. Part Two will be tomorrow.

As written, this is merely a speculation and therefore must be taken with a grain of salt. This speculation is not true until proven otherwise.

My question today is, why did Harry decide to marry Meghan?

Cards drawn: Knight of Cups, Eight of Wands, Ten of Wands, Eight of Pentacles, Four of Wands, Nine of Cups, Four of Cups.

Remarks/Comments: I was honestly expecting at least one or two major arcana cards to come up to give me some clarity about the situation, but I am surprised to see that none of the major arcana pops up. Not to say that a spread consisting purely of minor arcana cards is less clear compared to a spread with major arcana, but I was hoping there was a definite something I can look at to determine the main energy in this reading.

Summary: This spread consists of seven cards. Three of the cards are Cups and another three are Wands, which means that two suits make up for the majority of cards, which could mean that this marriage was based on feelings (Cups) and was thought of as a solution to a problem (Wands).

First card: Knight of Cups. This is a court card, and therefore, it stands for a person in my question -- which is Harry. This card speaks about making decisions based on emotions rather than thinking calmly to reach a decision; which did tell me that Harry decided to get married solely based on his emotions, and he did make this decision when he was blinded by his emotions rather than reason.

This card also speaks about loving someone for the sake of love itself, speaking about someone who shares that love freely. This does tell me that yes, Harry married Meghan out of love. I was surprised because I was sure that Meghan subtly manipulated Harry to marry her, especially with rumours of the secret marriage and yadda yadda, hence that "hands tied" feeling I mentioned earlier in this post. This card does tell me that Harry truly loved Meghan, loved her enough to marry her. They did say love makes you blind, and I do think this is perhaps what happened to Harry.

Second card: Eight of Wands. This card speaks about delays, frustration, fast-paced change, and action. Looking at this card, I remembered how Harry was not exactly successful with his earlier relationships. He broke up with Miss Chelsy Davy due to "rising incompatibility of their life choices", he broke up with the now Mrs Wentworth-Stanley, Cressida Bonas -- if tabloids were to be trusted, Harry even planned to marry her -- and it fell through. This did tell me that not only Harry loved Meghan enough to marry her, but he also did not want the Eight of Wands to happen again to him and his relationship with Meghan.

Third card: Ten of Wands. Now, this is another interesting card. For some reason, in two separate days, in two readings concerning Harry or Meghan, this card likes to show itself. Harry was burdened by something that he decided to get married and it wasn't that long in the past either, like the Eight of Wands. But the cards did show me he loved her, that Knight of Cups is just staring at me with his wide eyes, and his heart pouring out...then why was he burdened? Wasn't marrying someone you love a celebration, not a burden? Why would marrying someone you love become a burden? I love my partner with all my heart, and I would never consider marrying him a burden. In fact, I am (with that childish excitement) looking forward to the day he offers the ring. Then why? Why did this card come up?

Fourth card: Eight of Pentacles. The only card representing anything material wealth related, and the card itself doesn't even speak about anything materialistic. This card speaks about apprenticeship, repetitive tasks, self-development, and misdirected activity. In a broader sense, this card speaks about working away at the finer details of your life to improve your situation. Did Harry think marrying Meghan would improve his situation? In my humble opinion, marriage is not merely one finer detail of life, it is a huge part of someone's life. What would be improved in Harry's life when he married Meghan? Is there any? Or did Harry think so? There's a big difference between doing something that one thinks would improve a situation and doing something that actually improves a situation, just like how there is a big discrepancy between how we perceive a situation to be and the actual situation. I think Harry's decision to marry Meghan was in the former category.

Fifth card: Four of Wands. This card is closely associated with the elements of home: the people who make a home safe, people who support you, the familiarity, everything that makes a house a home. Now, the position of this card in this spread suggests these "elements" that make a home had an influence on Harry's decision to marry Meghan. The only thing I can think about is the rumours where members of the royal family (particularly William) warned Harry against rushing into marriage.

Looking at its pair, the Eight of Pentacles, this card did give me some idea that Harry might think that his situation at home, at least from his point of view, might be able to be improved if he married Meghan. This would once again beg the question of what, why, and how? How would marrying Meghan improve his situation? Why did he have to get married to improve his situation? What was the situation that he had to get married to improve it? This pair of cards leave me with more questions than answers.

Sixth card: Nine of Cups. This is the pair of the Ten of Wands. This card is usually about contentment and satisfaction, but could also speak about dissatisfaction and materialism. This card tells me that the burden (Ten of Wands) Harry felt was dissatisfaction with his family (Four of Wands). He was not satisfied with something that he decided to marry Meghan, believing that Meghan might be able to satisfy him in that particular aspect of his life. I am not inclined to believe Harry decided to marry Meghan because of money (in fact, I believe the opposite applies), so I'd stick with the dissatisfaction interpretation.

This card also reminds me of the so-called one-sided rivalry between William and Harry, and one of my thoughts I've written here. I must underline that these are solely Harry's thoughts and feelings, which would fall in line with what we've seen from him: a whiny, sulky adult man who feels that everyone has to bow at him because he was the son of a mother who was tragically killed in a car crash.

Seventh card: Four of Cups. This card talks about apathy, contemplation, retreat, and withdrawal. As the result of his decision to marry Meghan, Harry has shown that he was capable of being completely apathetic to all the sadness he has inflicted on his family because of all their lies as long as they get their way. He also leaves his family to follow Meghan, the family that provided him with comfort and stability for all his life.

Conclusion: As much as how we'd like to believe otherwise, this reading tells me that Harry perhaps did love Meghan. Perhaps he did love her enough that he decided to marry her, but that decision wasn't made based on reason. He was blinded by his own emotions. He also thought marrying Meghan would improve the situation at home, perhaps he was thinking that marrying Meghan would improve his standing somewhat, which, well, frankly, does not make sense. What kind of standing did he hope? Did he hope to have some sort of social standing in Hollywood?

#reading: brf #g reads

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mst3kproject · 3 years

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Battle of the Worlds

Several times on this blog I've featured movies that have more than one title. In almost every case, the new titles were better than the original one, and this is not an exception. Battle of the Worlds is fairly bland, but it tells you that you're going to be seeing a movie about some kind of space-based conflict, without giving away the details. The Italian title was Il Pianeta degli Uomini Spenti, which is a fucking spoiler.

An earlier draft of this review contained a couple of jokes about the classically phallic 60's spacecraft in the movie, but I went back and took those out. Bezos has really set a whole new standard for Giant Dong Rockets and I can no longer accept anything less.

A group of astronomers have just discovered a rogue planet, which they have dubbed the Outsider, is entering our solar system. Everybody is worried about it hitting Earth except for nasty old misanthrope Professor Benson, who says it'll be a near miss. As it turns out, nobody's exactly right – the Outsider doesn't hit us, but it doesn't just pass by, either. Instead, it settles into orbit, and when humanity attempts to explore it, it responds by sending out squadrons of flying saucers to blow our rockets out of its sky! After one of these crashes on Earth, Benson is able to learn how to deactivate the Outsider’s defences and land on it, where humanity can finally confront its inhabitants... or can we?

Well, if you speak Italian, you already know the answer, because this is The Planet of Extinguished Men. The aliens are all long dead and their spaceship has been following its programming for millions of years without them, including the part telling it to destroy the Earth. Bummer.

I actually have quite a bit to say about this movie. It centres around some interesting musings about human emotion and curiosity, though it never comes to any solid conclusions. As a movie, unfortunately, it's not very well-made. This is a story in which the world as we know it nearly comes to an end more than once, and yet very little seems to happen in it.

The opening sequence is terribly clumsy and does very little to place you within this world. We start off with two characters kissing and being excited about starting a new life together, but we have no idea at this point who they are or why they want to leave this place. When the Outsider is discovered, the scientists beat around the bush and try to keep it a secret, even from the audience. Only Benson is willing to be upfront about it. This does establish him as a realist while making his colleagues seem spineless, which is what the movie wants, but it's also terribly frustrating for the viewer.

Later there's a sequence in which a craft attempting to land on Mars is nearly destroyed by the gravity of the Outsider, and some quick thinking saves the astronauts' lives, but this is directed like the battle sequences in Invasion of the Neptune Men. We have no idea where any of these craft or planets are in relation to one another, and have to rely on characters sitting at desks to tell us what's happening. Even worse, we never see the chaos the looming end of the world wreaks on society. Astronauts who have recently returned to Earth note that they've heard there have been suicides and riots as people fear the Outsider will impact our planet, but we never see any of this.

The movie does a little better later, when the Outsider's close approach causes disastrous tidal forces... these are represented by black and white footage of floods and volcanic eruptions tinted red to try to make it match the rest of the colour film. As always, this fails, but at least they tried. Other special effects are equally pathetic. There are the inevitable plastic model kit rockets with their flame exhaust that rises in what's supposed to be a zero-gravity vacuum. The 'flying saucers' the Outsider launches to defend itself look like nothing so much as giant fried eggs.

The Outsider itself is particularly sad to look at. They have a model they use for it in a few shots, but this is about on a par with the original MST3K spaghetti ball. In other shots, the Outsider is represented by a photograph of the Moon. Absolutely no attempt is made to disguise it, and so of course the effect is a dismal failure because everybody knows what the goddamn Moon looks like. They couldn't even, I don't know, turn it upside-down or something?

On the other hand, the inside of the Outsider is actually pretty cool. The sets aren't exactly believable, but you can see what they were going for. Upon entering the caverns, the explorers find themselves in a series of tunnels full of strange red tubes and textures that look more organic than geological. Entering the Outsider is like wandering around within a living organism. My favourite part of this is that absolutely nothing we see here is comprehensible. Professor Benson, the genius, claims to be able to figure out what's going on, but his declarations seem arbitrary and nothing we're looking at makes visual sense. Even the aliens don't look like anything in particular. Were it not for Benson, we would not recognize them as living (or dead) creatures.

Like First Spaceship on Venus, Battle of the Worlds is much more interested in its ideas than in anything else, including what is supposedly its plot. The characters are important mostly as the embodiment of those ideas, rather than as people in themselves, and the ideas the movie wants to study are about logic and emotion and how they affect human priorities.

The character of Dr. Fred Steele finds himself facing the potential end of the world, and decides that the most important thing to him in this situation is the love between him and his fiancee, Eve Barnett. Professor Benson, on the other hand, thinks the most important thing is to understand the threat they're facing. Partly this is so that humanity can save itself from destruction, but knowledge for its own sake is also important. In between these two men is Eve herself, who thinks love and science are both important and tries to find some middle ground between the two. This is difficult for her, because Benson wants her to stay at the observatory and assist him, while Fred wants her to leave with him so they can get married. When Eve tries to convince Fred to stay with her, both men see this as her having chosen Benson, and it poisons the relationships between all three parties. Only with Benson dead are Eve and Fred able to strike a balance again.

But the movie doesn't want us to think that there is no middle ground. The movie's other romantic couple are the two scientists from the Mars Base, Bob and Cathy. They got married because they were both lonely and a psychological evaluation suggested that they had compatible personalities. As the story progresses, however, they find that they have indeed fallen in love and want a future together that would include things like children – but this is ultimately denied to them, as Cathy is crushed by falling debris while exploring the Outsider.

Benson dies when insists on staying aboard the Outsider to try to decode its computers despite the fact that the military is about to destroy the entire object. As the others escape, Fred intones the movie's beauty killed the beast line: “poor Benson, if they opened his chest they'd find a formula where his heart should be.” And yet Benson died happy – as the Outsider explodes he is triumphant in his ability to understand its secrets, and laughing at the foolishness and cowardice of his fellow man. It is the survivors who are miserable, mourning the loss of Benson himself as well as of Cathy, whose death was entirely meaningless.

I'm not sure what the movie is trying to tell us about these different approaches to life. It seems to present them as ultimately incompatible, that attempts to give logic and emotion equal weight can only end in tears. Only Benson, who was unswerving in his devotion to science, is ultimately satisfied. Perhaps the take-home message is that whatever your principles are, happiness lies in following them to their conclusion.

There's a second message, too, in different approaches to science itself. Modern physicists will often describe themselves as either theoretical or experimental... the two fields do compliment each other, but they often take place in different rooms, and one will be seen as leading the way for the other. The search for the Higgs Boson was theory-led: people were pretty sure it existed, they just had to find it. A great deal of astrophysics, however, is result-led: what we see tells us that there are things going on, like dark matter and dark energy, that we know nothing about, and the theorists must do their best to figure it out.

For most of his life, Benson has been a theorist. He sits in his greenhouse chalking on the floors, spinning theories out of other people's results or out of pure mathematics. Until the arrival of the Outsider, he had no interest in going out and exploring or experimenting. But it quickly becomes clear to him that he cannot understand the Outsider through pure theory, as his calculations cannot account for the decisions of its makers. In order to know it, he must see it for himself, so he grandly announces his intention to leave his 'den'. Nobody ever asks him if it was worth it, but his maniacal smile at the moment of his death suggests that it was.

Battle of the Worlds had potential to be a really interesting movie, but ultimate the way its shot and edited make it mainly a very dull one. Like its own characters, it fails to find the balance it needed.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #battle of the worlds #60s

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mistergrass · 3 years

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Zodiac Mom Headcanons: Momiji’s Mom

Slowly but surely I am making my way through these mom posts. This time let’s talk about someone whose worst moments as a mother were put on blast for the audience to see.

Rat & Snake Mom | Ox Mom | Tiger Mom | Rabbit Mom | Dragon Mom

Momiji’s mother is an only child born in Berlin.

Her father, a handsome and charismatic man, is a renowned photographer. Her mother, beautiful and alluring, is a dancer. They’re drawn to each other immediately when they meet on a photoshoot that features her mother’s dance troupe.

Their romance is as short-lived as it is passionate, and the affair comes to an abrupt end when her mother becomes pregnant.

The responsibility of a child falls almost completely on her mother’s shoulders, essentially ending her dance career (something she had left her family to pursue), and the beginnings of a cruel resentment begin to take form.

Her father has the spirit of an artist -- not wanting to be tied down to one woman, and not very suited for a traditional family lifestyle. That being said, he doesn’t abandon mother and child completely.

As Momiji’s mother grows up, her father will pop in and out of her life as he pleases. She thinks her mother can be too strict, too mean, and becomes a difficult child to handle as a result. But when her father comes to visit, she is over the moon and perfectly behaved. He’ll take her to museums, show her the photographs hanging in his studio, give her a stepping stool so she can help in his dark room, and (unlike her mother) will never ever scream at her even when clumsy, childish hands accidentally spill things or knock things over.

Her father never sticks around for very long, and as wonderful as it is to see him, it hurts tenfold when he leaves. And so, she grows up with her mother’s snappish impatience, and her father’s casual and conditional affection.

Going into her teenage years, Momiji’s mom begins to come into her own as an artist -- admiring and following the path of her father. She loves painting and ceramics, but she begins to grow into an undeniable beauty and it’s not long that she’s discovered as a model.

Her mother does not approve of this choice. For her, it’s bad enough that she has to watch her daughter openly prefer her father’s company to her own (despite everything she’s given up to raise her, while he can barely spare to send a postcard on their daughter’s birthday), but now her daughter is adding insult to injury by pursuing her father’s lifestyle. A lifestyle her mother was forced to give up to have a child.

It also doesn’t help that Momiji’s mom finds almost instant success as a model.

Where her mother was simply impatient before, now she becomes cruel.

She begins to undermine her daughter’s beauty, nitpicking at every little thing about her appearance. Momiji’s mother is now being constantly told that her photos are drab, ugly, unprofessional. That her beauty is fleeting, that the world around her will discover one day how little talent she has, and that her artistic abilities are worthless and boring. All this while she’s still only a teenager.

Momiji’s mom acts out in different ways, but mostly by taking on more modeling work (that exhausts her) and bringing home boyfriends her mother would never approve of (for good reason).

Her first serious boyfriend is a man six years her senior who is possessive and jealous, and rips to shreds the last bits of self-esteem she had left.

By the end of their four year relationship, Momiji’s mother has come to believe that something inside her is deeply, truly ugly. She has an overflowing anxiety that others will see her for what she truly is. Something that is wholly incompatible with her inability to be alone -- whether romantically, or via the need to surround herself constantly with people.

It’s at this time, at 20 years old and in her second year of university, that she meets Momiji’s father at a campus mixer.

At first, she’s intimidated by him (thought that doesn’t stop her from making conversation). She finds he’s not just studying abroad here, but attends the university full-time. He’s fluent in Japanese, German, and English, and seems so much smarter than she believes herself to be. In addition, he has a cold, distant demeanor to him that makes him seem unattainable.

Momiji’s father on the other hand, is taken immediately by this woman. He’s awkward and nervous in large social gatherings, but has been told from an early age never to outwardly show his discomfort. But she talks so passionately, so freely, that he can’t help but be drawn to her. When he fumbles over his words at the end of the night to ask her out for dinner, she realizes that she’d mistaken his shyness for apathy, and it immediately enamors him to her.

After two dates, they become inseparable.

She’s taken in by his kindness and gentility. He listens to her as if everything she says matters. He isn’t at all like the arrogant personalities she’s dated in the past, and if anything has an aversion to talking about himself. He never once makes her feel stupid, puts her down, or makes her feel worthless.

She’s prone to terrible mood swings and bouts of manic self-loathing that will leave her a sobbing mess. But where this has driven away boyfriends in the past, it only serves to make him more devoted to her. He holds her in his arms, and never once gets upset with her for being so much to handle.

Momiji’s father is an only child from a high-ranking Sohma family, and has had the entirety of his life mapped out for him since birth. He works to inherit his father’s business, and to maintain their standing in the family. Insurmountable pressure had been put on his shoulders from a young age, one that isolated him from making true friends in favor of focusing solely on his studies. He was never allowed to be overwhelmed, to not be good enough, nor to be disobedient.

But Momiji’s mother is like a walking piece of art -- chaotic and beautiful. He finds her endlessly interesting. He’s never met anyone who talks so openly about the things they love, the things they hate, or their own fears and insecurities. He likes feeling as though he can take care of her. He likes being someone reliable for her. And, eventually, he finds her to be the only person in the world that he can be vulnerable with. He has only ever cried in front of her.

For the last two years of college they spend all their free time together. He uses his cushy Sohma allowance to take them on trips and long weekends around Europe. And when the time comes for him to return to Japan after graduation, he can’t picture even a moment of his future without her.

He proposes, she says yes, and she agrees to leave her life in Berlin behind to move to Japan.

It’s a difficult transition. Though she had started learning Japanese when they first started dating, she’s far from fluent. It makes forming friendships and new connections within the Sohma family all the harder.

It’s also clear that her mother-in-law does not take too much of a liking to her. Momiji’s father bends over backwards making sure that their new home has space for her to continue her artistic pursuits, which comes off as frivolous to her new family. She also has limited housekeeping skills which reflects poorly on her ability to be a proper wife.

It’s an isolating experience, especially with her husband working long, late hours nearly every night. The loneliness begins to eat at her, resurfacing the shattered self-esteem that her new husband had spent the past two years healing. She seriously considers moving back to Germany on more than one occasion, but then she gets pregnant.

She’s not ready for a child. It’s too soon, and the thought of taking care of a whole other person is terrifying when she can barely stand to get out of bed most days now. But her husband assures her this will be a good thing, that maybe it will help the aching loneliness she feels.

Before she has a chance to get excited, they’re summoned by a young Akito.

Momiji’s mother doesn’t really process what she’s being told. Her husband has to translate what the little six year old is saying to her, and when he does his face is pinched and anxious.

A curse, he says. Her child is cursed. Somehow it makes sense, what with everything that dwells inside herself, but it’s hard for her to grasp this whole thing beyond that.

The pregnancy is a difficult one, filled with complications and scares that leaves her health completely depleted. When Momiji is born two months premature, her nerves are completely frayed.

True understanding of her child’s situation doesn’t really hit her until she holds a small rabbit in her arms, swaddled like a baby.

She vomits when it first happens. The transformation leaves her completely shaken, and she can’t understand why no one else around her seems to find this as horrific as it obviously is.

She does her best for the first few years. Honestly, she does. But the child makes her nervous. The supernatural nature of it all terrifies her, and she shakes every time she tries to hold her child and finds a little rabbit there instead.

As he grows older, she finds herself snapping at him over the smallest things, just as her mother did to her. A guilt builds inside her steadily that somehow she is at fault for this, that her hidden, disgusting nature warped and mutated their child. The thought of it puts her in hysterics at times, and she finds she can never relax in her own home.

Her husband urges her to keep herself together. There’s a desperation in his voice when he talks to her now. He reminds her, again and again, that above everything else Momiji is their child. Theirs, and no one else’s. He is their son that they have created, and he is still a symbol of the love they have for each other. Once she adjusts to the situation, she’ll learn to love him the way he knows she can. She just needs more time.

During this period, other zodiac mothers make an attempt to reach out, and her Japanese is finally at a level that she can have pleasant conversation with them. Haru and Yuki’s mothers invite her to lunch often enough. Shigure’s mother is also very hospitable. She also takes a real liking to Kureno’s mother, though the woman is clearly disliked by many of the other women in the family.

It helps, but it’s still difficult to talk to these women about her issues with the curse and with her son. Their eyes are judgmental, and she worries if she falls apart in front of them it would not be met with the same warmth as her husband (though he’s hardly ever around anymore).

Stress and guilt and shame and fear slowly build inside her for the next four years. Then, one day, she sits down to paint and realizes she can’t. She’s too locked up -- the reality of her situation has become too overwhelming, and she can’t even release it through her art.

She finally decides to tell someone about what’s going on. Her husband had been very clear with her that this curse is to remain completely secret, but it’s not as if she wants to do a news interview. All she wants is to talk to her mom.

Her mother is still the same harsh, critical woman she’s always been, but they’ve grown closer in the past few years. Becoming a mother herself has made her appreciate her own mother more, and the distance has softened both of them to each other considerably.

She tells her mother the whole story, with her listening surprisingly sympathetically throughout. By the end of the conversation, Momiji’s mother feels more comforted and loved by her mother than she has in years.

It’s Momiji’s father that gets the call from his livid mother-in-law demanding to know what’s happened to her daughter, and if he’s doing anything about the fact that she’s having a complete nervous breakdown that features wild delusions regarding their child.

Momiji’s father comes home that night, and for the first time he becomes truly angry at her. He scolds her for telling her mother anything about their situation, which only serves to make her just as angry since she was only seeking a bit of support.

But it all gets much much worse when he says how lucky they are that her mother thought she was deranged.

The whole world drops from below her feet when he admits that he let her mother continue to think that she was clinically insane. The man who had always defended her, understood her, cared for her -- the man she had left everything for -- had created a lie so egregious and spouted it back to her own mother.

She demands to know why he would do such a thing, and when he sputters out his thoughtless obedience to this strange family -- the one with the child treated like a king, and with all these dark secrets. After so long of telling her that she was his light when his family treated him like nothing, after telling her that she was his most important family now -- it’s a betrayal that she’d never expected from the man she loves.

The reality of her isolation comes down all at once. There is no one left she can talk to, there is no place she can go, and this child now represents something completely foreign to her. The only thing that was keeping her together was her husband’s assurances that the child was completely theirs -- but it’s not. This child belongs to the Sohmas, to some curse that her body housed and nurtured. The disgust that’s been building inside her body breaks like a dam and completely washes over Momiji.

She becomes inconsolable. She refuses to look at her son, and her husband becomes subject to fits of rage and anguish. He feels as though he’s completely lost her, and with the love of his life so indisposed, he feels just as alone.

Momiji’s father is the one who tells her about the option to wipe her memory. Not just in hopes of reeling back her sanity, but because he wants her to forget the lie he told. If she forgets that, maybe their marriage can go back to how it was. If she forgets that deep cut of betrayal, maybe she won’t look at him like he’s some misshapen stranger.

She agrees as quickly as she had when he proposed. Together they decide that forgetting Momiji will ultimately be for the best.

At first when she recovers, things seem to return back to normal. But there’s always a piece missing as the years go on. There’s always something not quite right. Momiji’s father is paranoid and nervous -- the presence of his wife is no longer a comfort, but a stressor. And sometimes, for the briefest moment, he’ll catch her staring at him. Her eyes far off and distant, like she’s completely lost in thought, and the expression that rests on her face will be one of fear. When she comes back to herself, it’s as if she hadn’t even noticed.

The zodiac mothers are told not to speak to her after her memory is erased, which suits most of them just fine (Haru’s mother took particular offense to the decision). Below is the relationship chart for pre-memory wipe:

Friends with: Kureno’s mom, Haru’s mom, Shigure’s mom, Ritsu’s mom

Doesn’t like: Yuki’s mom, Hatori’s mom

#Fruits Basket #Fruits Basket Headcanons #Zodiac Mom Headcanons #Momiji's mom #Momiji Sohma #at least I wrote something for this fandom again #been thinking about this woman a lot this week #she took as long as she did cause we have some much info on her though #I do my best work when I'm given bare scraps lmao

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dutchdread · 3 years

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"The promised land, I think I can meet her there".

This article argues that it's unreasonable to see the line as a romantic gesture from Cloud, and that an alternative interpretation of the line as a comment concerning the impending doom is more likely. __________________________________________________

People try to use this to prove that Cloud wants Aerith ever since 1997. Now lets be clear here, this interpretation is patently absurd as soon as you think about it for more than 2 seconds. Do you really think for a second that Square would end the game with Cloud randomly telling Tifa as they're about to die, "you know what I want to tell you before we die? I don't love you and I'm glad I'm dying so I can be with another woman in the afterlife"? They wouldn't, this is the most unreasonable story interpretation I've ever heard, whatever that line is meant to mean, it wouldn't be that. Let's be clear here, the only people who think that this line is a genuine argument in favor of Clerith, are people who are already Cleriths. They see the line, and find it to be in line with their beliefs, and it is. The problem is that that's not how science is done. The question isn't whether or not a piece of evidence is in line with your point of view, it's whether it disproves the opposite point of view, which in this case it doesn't. (Also see: "The Wittgenstein test") It should be noted that arguments like these do not do Cleriths any favors, because in addition to proving nothing, they show something fundamentally problematic about the Clerith view of the story. In order to believe that this line in incompatible with a Cloti interpretation of the story, there are a number of tangentially related positions that you'd have to defend. 1: It's impossible to want to be reunited with anyone except if you love them romantically. 2: Cloud is an absolute asshole who would dump a woman he just had sex with, just as they're about to die. 3: Tifa is the worlds biggest simp. 4: This is how SE wants you to see their characters. In one fell swoop of a bad story interpretation you've undermined the importance of all other forms of love, you've undermined the importance of Clouds character arc concerning guilt. You've basically trampled on those who suffer from mental health issues by simplifying their issues into love cliches, you've made a villain of Clouds character, made a mockery of Tifas character, and revealed that you don't understand basic storytelling.

This is the fundamental problem with these arguments that cause many of us to develop a distinct distaste for Clerith as a ship, because when Cleriths attempt to argue in favor of it, it often comes in the form insults towards all characters and stories involved. You could have a story about Cloud loving Aerith, but if defending said story requires you to argue that Cloud would leave a girl with two children, one of which is dying, for no other reason besides being lovesick, then that does a disservice to the characters, the story, and the franchise in general. In a sense, by trying to defend Clerith like this you're insulting the entirety of Final Fantasy. Are there people who are assholes? Yes, are there people who get straight up "pumped and dumped"? Yes. Is that the sort of hero that SE is trying to show us? Obviously not. (for more information regarding this I advise you read: Insane hobbits article where he touches on the differences between clean and messy narratives) If SE wanted to end the game with Cloud proclaiming his love to Aerith in some way, they wouldn't have Tifa hanging on his side while he's doing it, and she wouldn't respond with "yeah, lets go meet her" like the universe biggest simp. So what is actually said? Well, I am not a translator, but as far as I can tell Japanese doesn't have pronouns and the line generally refers to meeting people in the promised land, which includes Tifa in the people going, and it's not specifically about Aerith. Is Aerith included? Of course, she's probably even the main person to meet there, she's certainly singled out as the person talked about by certain supplementary materials, but it's not a romantic sentiment, it's a tragic "we're about to die" sentiment, meant to convey a more generally positive message about being "reunited" with those who have died. The more likely paraphrasing for this scene is: "Cloud asks for an answer from the planet, the planet reveals the lifestream, Cloud and Tifa realize they're about to die. Cloud muses that he thinks he gets it now, they're all going to die and be reunited in the lifestream, both with each other, as well as those who have died, with Aerith being the most obvious and recent example." So is there any evidence for this? Well, for one there is the storyboard for the scene:

c「帰るぞティフ��」 t「え？」 c「俺達も帰ってからやることがあった。まだ…あの山の向こうを見てない」 t「うん…帰ろう」

Cloud: "I'm going home Tifa" Tifa: "What?" Cloud "We had something to do after we got home. We haven't seen the other side of the mountain yet ..." Tifa: "Yeah ... let's go home"

"the other side of the mountain" is a reference to the mountains of Nibleheim, where Tifa believed the dead went. In other words, this is either a reference to them going home because they have stuff to do, which ties into the general idea that Cloud and Co had to live in order for their sins to be forgiven, as is evidenced by:

“I’m going to live. I think that’s the only way I can be forgiven. All sorts of things… happened.” ~Cloud in case of Tifa.

Or more likely it's be a reference to how they're about to die. Neither interpretation says anything about this scene being intended to be a romantic sign towards Aerith. Now, of course, the line was changed, and intentions can change during development. But if we're unsure on what the meaning of a line is, then going back to the storyboard is a pretty good way to get context.

Page 27 of the FFVII Ultimania omega:

"They're talking about", confirming that this is a mutual discussion, and not Cloud in isolation.

Page 203 of the FFVII Ultimania omega:

Provides context for the intended ideas the line is meant to convey. It calls back to earlier concepts concerning death not being the end, and is something Cloud and Tifa talk about together.

From: Final Fantasy Art Museum movie card ( https://twitter.com/dorobbongie )

These are not prescriptive canon, but descriptively they can give us some indication of how we're supposed to interpret the line.

Also reinforces the idea that the final line is meant as a more inclusive statement concerning reunions after death. Taking these points into consideration it becomes unreasonable to take the "I think I can meet her there" as a shipping line between Cloud and Aerith. If it were:

SE wouldn't have hung Tifa from Clouds hips.

Wouldn't have had Tifa agree with the idea.

Wouldn't have done it as the two were about to die.

Wouldn't have the storyboard refer to a shared journey beyond the mountains.

And most importantly, SE wouldn't have followed it up with Cloud commenting moments later that he's going to live in order to atone for his sins, and that things would be different now that he has Tifa. Clearly meeting again in the afterlife was more of an immediate danger rather than an immediate goal:

As Tifa looked away from the sky towards the ground, she was fearful of the future. However, Cloud beside her chose to smile gently. It was a smile that she hadn’t seen before during their journey. Cloud noticed her gaze and asked, “What’s wrong?” “Cloud, you’re smiling.” “I am?” “Yeah.” “It all starts now. A new…” Cloud looked for the right words. “A new life.” “I’m going to live. I think that’s the only way I can be forgiven. All sorts of things… happened.” “That’s right…” “But when I think about how many times I’ve thought about how I was going to start a new life, it’s funny.” “Why?” “Because I’ve always failed everything.” “That’s not funny.” “After this … I think I’ll be okay.” Cloud was silent for a long time before he spoke again. “Because I have you this time.” “You’ve always had me.” “What I mean is kind of different,” Cloud answered with another smile. -Case of Tifa; revised; released with ACC.

__________________________________________ thank you "thelifestream.net" for some of this information, as well as Kagesakura (https://otp-oasis-heavenxearth.tumblr.com).

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thebluelemontree · 4 years

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I don't know if you've already answered a similar question, if you have I apologize and will look better for it. But do you think Sandor and Sansa would still love each with how much they've both changed? They've almost become new people, but still the same beings.

It’s no problem. I’ve written about that here and probably touched on this in many other posts.

I wouldn’t frame the question as would they “still love each other with how much they’ve both changed.” It implies that their feelings were already understood as love by them when they were together. What they had was a confusing mess of conflicting emotions that neither were fully capable of understanding or accepting at the time. Each had their reasons for why that was so, which goes to some of the issues that stood between them. While there is chemistry, intimacy, and empathy shown, IMO, it’s better to think of them as possessing the building blocks that can lead to love in the future.

On the other hand, there was also:

The fact that she’s too young, immature, and unready for a consummated romance with anyone. She needs space and time to grow up and figure out what she wants. Until AFFC, she’s still only comfortable consciously fantasizing about Loras Tyrell, who is non-threatening, conventionally attractive, and uncomplicated. They are still relatively chaste/borderline erotic fantasies. The unkiss takes time for her to consciously accept and embrace as reciprocated erotic desire.

The fact that he has no idea how to express himself without resorting to the language of violence that he understands best.

The fact that he copes with the unresolved childhood trauma and PTSD in unhealthy ways like his abrasive Hound persona, his overly-cynical worldview, and sometimes abusing alcohol when he’s under stress.

His immaturity and inability to simply ask for and accept the emotional support he wants (which she was perfectly willing to give) without freaking out over being vulnerable with someone.

The fact that they are on opposite sides of a war where Sansa’s family is in open rebellion against her captors who Sandor owes fealty to.

The fact that she’s the king’s betrothed. She’s his property. To explicitly act upon any romantic attraction would be considered treason, punishable by torture and death.

The fact that there is a massive class disparity between them that overshadows the age difference in their world. That’s one reason why neither can put a name to this thing between them. A future queen / high lord’s daughter from an ancient house should not be fraternizing with a non-knight from a house only three generations old. That’s why they struggle even knowing what to call each other because using first names shows too much familiarity and intimacy. This would be true even without any of the other conflicts. Class controls everything in Westeros.

And yes, he still owes her a big heartfelt apology for his abhorrent behavior during the Blackwater, and he should beg her forgiveness.

Most of these points I elaborate on in more detail in the links above. If you notice, though, most of these things have either been resolved or are in the process of being resolved. None of these issues were ever insurmountable obstacles.

The ways in which Sansa and Sandor have evolved even in their separation has been largely positive and complementary of each other. They haven’t grown apart or become incompatibly different at all. If anything, it’s pushed their feelings further along, and it’s clear they are very much on each other’s minds. Since we can see Sansa’s perspective firsthand, she’s only thought about Sandor more since he left.

Sansa has grown and matured a lot more when we see her in the TWOW sample chapter. Had the five-year gap panned out, she would be legally an adult in Westeros; however, dropping it doesn’t seem to have affected GRRM’s intentions for any of his POVs. She’s in the company of unconventional, sexually mature women in their early twenties who can be role models in navigating adult relationships. The sassy way she takes no shit from a brutally honest Harrold Hardyng shows she has confidence and the ability to go toe-to-toe with Sandor’s gruff personality without getting flustered and running away. After she wipes the floor with him with her wit, she ends up winning Harry over to the point he’s begging for her favor. There is no point in the sample chapter where she voices any anxieties about not feeling ready for marriage, sex, or children. This no longer seems to be an issue for her, so we can assume she feels okay with having an adult relationship at this point.

Her time as a bastard girl has made her warmer and friendlier. She was always kind, but proprieties and courtesies can also read as aloof and re-enforcing strict class boundaries. Can you imagine Kings Landing!Sansa hugging someone like Lothor Brune, a landless knight, as she does in TWOW? Or preferring the company of a sex-positive widow who enjoys taking lovers or a bastard girl over the “perfect sister” she saw in Margaery Tyrell and her cousins? Hell no. That would never happen. This new Sansa lacks those prejudices and is openly affectionate towards people she was raised to keep at arm’s length. Once she loosened up and stopped reciting courtesies, people actually got to know her and like her for who she is. That’s what Sandor always wanted from her, right? To drop the courtesies and flattering bullshit and just be a real person with him, not a talking parrot. While that criticism was harsh and rudely put, it had a lot of truth to it. It seems to have made Sansa into a happier person and more in touch with her authentic self. Now that she has accepted in Feast that she wanted Sandor like that, what is there to stop her from acting on it later?

The Quiet Isle didn’t exist before Feast. It was written for Sandor to recover and rehabilitate. Not just physically, but he’s getting what constitutes psychological counseling and a treatment plan that deals directly with his worst traits. He appears to meet with the Elder Brother often enough because the latter seems to know quite a bit about Sandor’s backstory, what his issues are, and exactly who Sansa Stark is. The rest of the time, he must observe the no talking rule and do meaningful work as a novice. This man, who once flaunted his contempt for those who couldn’t defend themselves as weak and deserving of death, is put to work digging graves for the innocent victims of violence. All day long, he has to look at the faces of men, women, and children killed by evil men with that philosophy. One brother even yells at him for carelessly tossing dirt around with the shovel, and he silently takes it. No smart ass backtalk. In the evening, he has to serve food and clear plates for men he would have once mocked. They’re men of faith, they’ve renounced violence, and Sandor sits lower in status than them. To Sandor’s credit, he humbly submits to all this in a show of respect and humility. It’s like he wants to learn these lessons they are offering and is allowing himself to be schooled. Now Sandor may always be Sandor on some level (if Stranger kicking down the stable doors and refusing to be gelded is any indication). Still, it does look like he’s become a gentler, healthier, and sober version of himself. The only part of Sandor that Sansa rejected was the Hound, and it’s both stated in the text and by George himself that the Hound is dead. Period. And yeah, it seems like Sandor is in a place where he is unlikely to backslide into old behavior, and he can make that heartfelt and necessary apology to Sansa. I don't think Sandor could ever be okay with moving their relationship forward without making amends first. It wouldn't sit right with his sense of remorse and personal responsibility, which is a good thing.

All these changes are for the better for them as individuals and as a possible future couple. Contrary to your ask, I would say a positive, fully-fledged romance with "HEA" potential wouldn’t be possible or believable without all the growth and changes they've undergone. When they reunite, they can do so on more equal footing.

Not that there aren’t more conflicts to overcome. They both are currently wanted fugitives for murders they didn’t commit, so they both need to clear their names and reclaim their true identities. There is still the matter of Sansa’s marital status as Tyrion isn’t dead but their marriage was also unconsummated. She could try to have her marriage officially annulled by the Faith somehow, but to do that, she’ll have to take the risk of revealing her true identity. Again, these don’t seem like plots that won’t be resolved anyway at some point. What about that class divide though? Well, the Starks aren’t like Tywin or Cersei, and they actually value things like faithful service. No reason why Sandor couldn’t be awarded a lordship and lands in gratitude for saving the lives of both Arya and Sansa. I’m just sayin’.

#valyrianscrolls #sansan meta #sansan #sansa stark #sandor clegane #asoiaf meta #my meta #future romance #asoiaf characterization #twow spec #asoiaf spec

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parablesoftheone · 3 years

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Daoist transcendental meditation in “Light of the Eyelid”

(Hi and welcome! This should be my last long, involved post for a while—gotta get back to work after Christmas break—but a couple of shorter ones are in the works for later.)

Introduction: Daoist meditation and the motion of return

Returning is the motion of the Dao Yielding is the way of the Dao. The ten thousand things arise from being. Being arises from not being. —Dao De Jing #40 (pg. 43)

Of all the Mushishi stories to feature kouki (光酒, “light saké”) and the river of light, this one perhaps offers the most clues to their possible origins in Daoism, and specifically in Daoist transcendental meditation practices—which, it turns out, are quite dangerous, done improperly.

In “Light of the Eyelid,” Ginko communicates across the river of light with a little girl, Sui, who is several days’ travel away. Both reach this transcendental state by closing their “second eyelids,” retreating to a realm of absolute darkness, wherein the river of light appears. This river we know to be a vein of kouki, the essence of life itself and the source of vitality in the physical world.

The connections to Daoism here are many, beginning with the idea of “return to the source,” which appears throughout the Dao De Jing and is the foundation of many Daoist meditation practices. Dao De Jing verse #16 is often taken as a description of meditation:

Empty yourself of everything. Let the mind become still. The ten thousand things rise and fall while the self watches their return. They grow and flourish and then return to the source. (pg. 18)

In Daoist cosmology, life emerges from the un-manifest, or what in the first verse of the Dao De Jing is called “darkness within darkness” (pg. 3). This is yin, the “primal female,” and the source to which Daoist meditation aims to reconnect.

That the “true darkness” and the river of light in “Light of the Eyelid” refer to the origin of life is unambiguous. Ginko says that Biki has watched the river too, in a time before his memory, and earthly life flourishes where the river flows. The episode’s references to a distant past when it was common to see the river of light also echo the many references in the Dao De Jing and in Zhuangzi to the people of old and their closeness to life’s source. From Zhuangzi’s Inner Chapters:

“Among the ancients, knowledge was very deep. What is meant by deep? It reached back to the time when nothing existed.” (tr. Feng and English, pg. 30)

Ginko and Sui’s retreat to the darkness through which life flows is thus easily connected to the Daoist “return to the source” of life.

The Way of the Light Saké

I won’t attempt here to outline the wild and crazy history of the Daoist alchemical/meditative practice called “The Way of the Golden Elixir.” This paper is comprehensive and will be linked many times below. Fortunately, the interpretation I believe Urushibara-sensei to be drawing on in Mushishi is the most fundamental: The “golden elixir” is the essence of life itself, accessible via a “return to emptiness” (pg. 51). This is the approach that directly links “Golden Elixir” practice with the “return” of the Dao De Jing (pg. 46). This process is

“frequently illustrated through the metaphor of the creation of ‘a person outside one’s person’ (or ‘a self outside oneself,’ shen zhi wai shen), which represents the attainment of transcendence and is defined as the ‘true person’... (pg. 52)

Ginko and Sui can be seen as performing just this kind of transcendental meditation, manifesting themselves outside their bodies into the “true darkness” of the source and alongside the river of the essence of life.

True Yin and True Yang

The “true darkness” and “alien light” of the state through which Ginko and Sui communicate can also be linked to this form of meditation. Golden Elixir practice seeks, in various ways, the unity of the primordial True Yang and True Yin (pg. 25)—that is, the two primal forces, represented as light and darkness respectively, that exist beneath all manifest things (the world of yin and yang we perceive). The pure darkness and strange light of the light flow can be seen as analogous to this True primordial Yin and Yang—especially given Ginko’s words in S1 E19 “Thread from the Sky,” in which he describes the mushi as “lying on the border with yang.” This boundary between primordial light and darkness is, as Sui says, where the mushi live.

Seeing this connection in “Light of the Eyelid,” we can understand kouki as a reference to the “golden elixir”—which can be either an internal force or an external substance, and which, in various uses, can also heal illnesses or even confer immortality (pg. 4), as a seed “containing the light flow” does in Mushishi S1 E9 “The Heavy Seed.”

Kouki (光酒, “light saké”) could also, if we like, be taken as a play on words and a reference to yuanqi (元氣), or the “Original Pneuma” propagated “into the ‘ten thousand things’”— a Daoist term meaning “everything that exists”—and concentrated in Golden Elixir practices (source).

So what happened to poor Sui?

This sort of transcendental meditation is no game. Warnings abound (pg. 49) about practicing it incorrectly, and the writings of Lü Dongbin, one of its founders, are especially suggestive. If, he says, a practitioner is able to free “the form of an infant resembling oneself” to “travel through the universe... unhindered through the ten directions,” but at the same time does not know the dao, they are at risk of being beset by a “sharp, cutting, and piercing [wind that] enters through the forehead...” If this wind does not destroy them, the next danger is “a poisonous fire, which rises from below and enters through the top of the head, attacking the internal organs... The pores and the hairline are instantly turned into ashes” (source, pgs. 80–81).

In “Light of the Eyelid,” Sui first suffers stabbing pain in her eyes when exposed to daylight and then, after walking into the river of light (”fire from below”), from her eyeballs disintegrating into a powdery, smoking blackness. Given the warnings above, she might be said to have gotten off easy—although somehow surviving these trials is acknowledged to be possible. (pg. 81)

Ouch.

As she does with other lore, Urushibara-sensei traces the origins of these warnings to mushi, in this case to a nasty-looking scorpion-snake, manakonoyami-mushi, that infects eyeballs too long exposed to darkness and the river of light.

The danger of emotions

Why did this happen? Lü Dongbin warns that the afflictions he describes come from practicing transcendence without keeping to the dao. As he emphasizes, a critical part of this is maintaining emotional control.

Emotional detachment is no small part of Daoist practice. This mindset is described by Zhuangzi as wuqing—literally “without feelings,” but actually meaning that one is not dominated by desires or preferences (Hall and Ames pg. 47). Ginko demonstrates a capacity for this kind of control: While he routinely expresses mild irritation, when something truly distressing happens, he’s... still only mildly irritated. See, e.g., S1 E21 “Cotton Changeling,” when he gets freaking stabbed and not only barely reacts, but shows no subsequent resentment whatsoever.

Not only is this preternatural emotional stability characteristically Daoist, it’s essential for transcendental meditation. Lü Dongbin is aggressive about the danger of emotions and the need to remove them from the root, likening them to “parasites”:

If you try to control emotions forcibly without extirpating the root [desire], you control nothing but outgrowths. This is like a flood of water: if you try to dam it without stopping the source or clearing the flow, eventually you’ll be drowned. It is also like a blazing fire: if you try to beat it out without removing its fuel or cutting off its path, you’ll just increase the force of the flames, so that you’ll be threatened at every turn.” (pgs. 90–91)

Only when the mind is free of “defilement and attachment” is one able to “crystallize the great elixir” in a transcendental state. This is not to be attempted without guidance in the dao (pgs. 88–89) to ensure the stability needed to avoid danger.

We can see the dangers of emotions, and specifically of desire, affecting Sui from the start. The river of light’s attraction is strong—she has to be warned away from its shore repeatedly, and Biki, after even a brief glimpse, wants to stare at it forever. Because she’s so drawn to it, Sui fails to moderate the time she spends looking at it, and thus becomes infected by the manakonoyami-mushi. This is bad enough—but it’s her grief over Biki’s illness that prompts her to do what Ginko repeatedly warned her not to: walk into the “poisonous fire” of the river of light, resulting in her infected eyes being reduced to ash.

As Lü Dongbin warns, desires and attachments are indeed dangerous.

Last notes

So, we can trace much of what we see in "Light of the Eyelid” to the concepts and lore of Daoist meditative practices. But at the root of all this, we simply find one of the major ideas seen throughout Mushishi. The incompatibility between “return to the source” and the emotional bonds and complexities of the modern human is one of the series’ many explorations of the conflict and the search for harmony between human beings and the “way of nature.”

Ginko personifies a hope that such harmony is possible—he’s neither devoid of emotions nor prey to them, neither indifferent to Sui and Biki’s suffering nor incompatible with the river of light.

Though given how many times he saw Sui across the river, it’s possible he just wanted to be able to meditate in peace.

#mushishi #spoilers #stabbing #daoism #light of the eyelid

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