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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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👀 PLease tell us your thoughts about the Jedi babies re-growing up among different cultural contexts.

Oh fuck okay

Context: original post, chrono The specific post this ask is referencing: here

Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka), are now staying with the True Mandalorians under Jaster Mereel because the Force said to, go back to the Temple after about a decade. They grabbed Shmi about three months after arriving.

So as far as the cultural background goes, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had similar upbringings. She spent a few years on Shili first, but both spent the majority of their childhoods up to age 13/14 being raised in the creche. So that's the basis that they would default to, in a vacuum.

Nobody is raised in a vacuum.

Along with the Jedi cultural background, they're being raised by Tatooine natives in a Mandalorian environment.

Shmi and Anakin are both former slaves who have desert survival baked into their bones. The longer Anakin spends around her, the more his accent slips, the more he talks about old folktales, the more he uses idioms that don't exist on a cityplanet like Coruscant. All the things that he tamped down to be a Jedi come floating back to the surface, and Shmi's never known anything else. Anakin's knowledge of slave customs make her feel more comfortable, which in turn makes him feel better, and so on.

Mandalore is just... the culture they're living in. You don't grow up in a new culture with a new language without picking up on it personally. (Source: I moved to the US when I was a little under two years old.)

I think the thing I'm going to focus on as an example is the way each of these cultures approaches family, and then maybe how they approach the keeping of peace/what peace means.

Jedi: Where you come from means little, only the legacy you leave behind in your students. Mandalore: You protect your clan and your children; adoption is a major cultural value, if not actually practiced consistently. Tatooine: You can lose your family at any time, so you value what you have in all its forms. You don’t forget where and who you came from, to family of blood and family of choice alike. You cling to your memories and what little you still have of them, to what your master cannot take away.

These are all valid ways to approach family, and each of these approaches can have significant meaning to different people. But they do all, to a certain degree, conflict with one another, despite all three being fairly communal cultures.

The Jedi have a culture, one that’s built on a shared ability and religion over thousands of years. It’s not just an organization, but a continuous community with legends and traditions and art and records. But it’s one that is built on new blood coming in from the outside, volunteers who join because the religion speaks to them (near literally, given the nature of Force Sensitivity), given up by families who couldn’t or wouldn’t teach them in a way that let their talents flourish instead of pushing it all down.

For the Jedi, a culture built on people coming together due to something they have in common intrinsically that their families of blood do not, it makes sense to put emphasis on letting go of that past when they can, and to place importance on teaching lineages. It’s not just the official master-padawan pairs, either, but that’s the most obvious and easily paralleled element. Moreover, a lot of the Jedi culture is about gaining knowledge, so obviously spreading it is good, and also on supporting the galaxy to make it a better place; to view the Jedi order as a heavily communal culture would make sense, since their values are all about selfless betterment of the universe, which on a larger scale is about the galactic conflicts, but on a smaller scale is about supporting their own community, the children and the ill and elderly.

So that is the specific culture that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka grew up in, one that holds blood family as relevant but not particularly crucial to one’s identity, but is structured so people leave behind legacies through education in a manner that often becomes adoptive family (depending on your definition, I guess). Jedi are encouraged to connect to their home cultures, if not their families, with practices like the coming of age hunt for Togruta leading to the young Jedi taking a trip out to Shili to engage in that cultural milestone. This can also be viewed as a way for the Jedi to maintain personal connections to the wider universe, a (not entirely successful, but certainly attempted) way of keeping them from becoming too isolated and insular from the universe at large, and losing touch from what the galaxy actually needs of them.

They’re now growing up with two cultures that do place emphasis on blood and found family.

Mandalore, as presented in The Mandalorian, has their traditional values set as being heavily associated with their armor, battle skills, and childcare. While that’s clearly a set of values that aren’t actually followed by everyone with full sincerity, we can assume that these stated cultural values do have at least some impact on the way the society is structured, since we do see more traditional characters (Jaster, Din) adopt orphaned children and then have the Mandalorian elements of their immediate circles support that claim.

(We’ll ignore Jango and the whole clone army thing because the amount of Sith influence is up for debate and also holy trauma, Batman.)

However, we also see that a lot of Mandalorian culture is built on their family histories. On the New Mandalorian side, we see emphasis placed on the fact that Satine is House Kryze and that she’s a duchess. Her bloodline is relevant, though not the most important thing about her. On the Death Watch side, we have Pre and Tor placing emphasis on the fact that they’re Clan Vizsla, descended from Tarre, that this is important to why they deserve what the darksaber represents, this is part of why they not only deserve to lead, but should for the good of Mandalore.

Bo-Katan’s armor is a family heirloom. Boba’s armor was Jango’s, but before being Jango’s, it was Jaster’s. Armor is important enough to pass to family, but the family can be adopted. This all tracks.

The resol’nare specifies loyalty and care for the clan/tribe among the six tenets.

These two elements seem relatively well-balanced: the importance of adoption and the importance of family as a larger unit on the level of a house or clan.

And then you have Tatooine, which also balances blood and adoption, but for entirely different reasons, that being this: it can always be taken from you.

For all that a Mandalorian could historically expect their family to die in battle, and a Jedi could expect to lose their master the same way if things went poorly, those were usually choices. A Mandalorian was raised to walk into battle, and then they could make that choice to do so. It wasn’t often much of a choice, but they could feasibly turn their back and choose to be a farmer or a doctor or something, and support the people who went out to do battle instead of being the one on the field themselves. A Jedi could choose to be a healer or an archivist or join one of the Corps.

A slave does not get that choice. A slave can be killed or sold on a whim from their master. It’s not a one-time trauma, but an ever-present fear. Your parent, your child, your sibling, your spouse, all of them can be separated from you at any time. You can always lose them, and you have no choice but to grin and bear it, or try to run and die before you reach freedom.

In a context like that, I imagine Tatooine places a very heavy emphasis on family, both of blood and of choice, and on treasuring what you have while you have it. A person is always aware that they can lose whoever they have in their life, and so they make the most of their times together, have clear and consistent ways of expressing that love (I imagine primarily direct verbal confirmations and physical contact, practical gifts like water and fruit). Childcare is important, elders are venerated. Those who survived that far have valuable wisdom, and the children are to be given what happiness they can have before reality wipes that ability from them.

The family ‘networks’ among Tatooine slaves are smaller and tighter knit. There’s less trust for outsiders, but once you’re in, you’re in until you are taken away. Still, families are torn apart regularly, and often can’t contact each other after being separated if they’re sold far enough away, so families stay small because they’re always being broken up. Unlike Mandalore’s tribe/clan system, or the Jedi’s wide, loosely-structured community, Tatooine’s slaves form smaller groups that cling for as long as they can, and try to support each other. (There are selfish ones, of course, especially the newbies, but... well. Most try.)

Tatooine is also much more likely to assign a familial role (e.g. referring to an elder as ‘grandmother’). It’s not uncommon in the others (multiple Jedi refer to their masters as a parent or sibling, like Anakin’s “you’re like a father to me” line), but it’s not as baked-in that such a role should be given.

So on a structural level, we have two people from a community culture with little emphasis on blood family or formal familial roles are now being raised in a community that has them asking “what can you do for the people around you first, and then the wider world?” by people who tell them “your family, blood and found, is the most important thing you have; never let anyone take more from you than they possibly can.”

And that shit has an effect.

For all that Sokanth and Ylliben were once raised with a knowledge that their duty, their goal, was to better the galaxy as a whole, they are now being told that the community that raises them asks their loyalty back, because societies are built on support networks, and if you support the tribe, it will support you. There are parallels to that kind of thinking among Jedi, because it is basic social theory, but it’s not presented as the same kind of cultural value. It’s not given as something to strive for, just a basic fact.

This, for instance, means that once they’re back at the Temple, they have a tendency towards suggesting study groups and other ways of supporting people in their immediate circle, often structured in very unfamiliar ways. Again, this isn’t uncommon among Jedi, but it’s not done in the same way, or with the same emphasis. The Jedi also often approach problem-solving in a different order, so the step of “meditate on it and you may find your solution” often comes before “gather information from people who know more about it than you do,” while Ben and Soka have by this point learned to do it the other way around, because that’s what the Mandalorian system taught them: rely on your family first.

Meanwhile, the Tatooine element of their upbringing has them being much more willing to just... casually refer to ‘my dad’ and ‘my sister’ and so on. They use those words. It’s not just “my master is like a father to me,” but “this is my father.” They don’t hesitate to talk about the family they had and still have in Mandalorian space. None of the Jedi begrudge them it, really, but it’s always a shock to hear for the first time, and between the Tatooine refusal to pretend the connection is gone and the Mandalorian tendency to err on the side of roughhousing as affection, they’re just... odd. It’s not like none of the other Jedi know family outside the Order--some of the old books had Obi-Wan visiting his brother on Stewjon once in a while--or like none of the active Jedi are loud or boisterous, but the specific manner in which Soka and Ben interact with the Order, especially when their dad is around, is very weird.

More Soka than Ben, really, but that’s mostly just because Ben’s a very quiet person until he gets a little older, so it’s harder to notice on him.

Point is, while they still hold to their duty to the wider galaxy and will continue to keep that duty above almost anything else in their lives, the way they talk and act about the subject of family, especially in private, is heavily influenced by their new cultures.

This is already very long but I promised I’d talk about peace so let’s go:

The Jedi seek peace as an absence of war and conflict in the portion of the galaxy under their purview, in hopes that they will prevent as much suffering and death as they can.

The Mandalorians are varied, but Jaster Mereel’s group (which is the community the Skywalkers are with) is likely to view peace as unrealistic to achieve in the long term. They do not seek war, but they know the world they live in, and are prepared to protect against violence as their first resort. They always expect an attack, even if they don’t seek it.

The Slaves of Tatooine view peace as the calm in a storm. It is the status quo. Nobody has escaped tonight, for the guards aren’t searching, but neither is anyone dead. The Master you have is in a good enough mood to not sell you, to not kill you, to not beat you. Peace as an absence of suffering is impossible, so you seek for your master to be peaceful, that is to say: not raging at you.

The scope of each of these narrows significantly. From the known galaxy, to the wars that meet Mandalorian space, to the household one serves.

A community like the Jedi can choose to address peace as something to be sought on a large scale as an absence of war. They primarily function within the borders of the Republic, which has its problems but is largely structured to prevent such things from occurring until the Sith interfere. The Jedi have a structure that allows them to address peace as an ideal to be sought, at least within the borders of the territory they serve.

Mandalore, meanwhile, has been at war on and off for... ever. When they are not at war with themselves, they’re at war with someone else. ‘Peace’ is just the time between wars, and they know that if they do not attack first, they will be forced to defend. Jaster Mereel was known as the Reformer, and part of that was that instituting a code of honor, one that was intended to prevent Mandalorian warriors from acting as raiders and brigands, but rather acting as honorable hired soldiers, or taking roles such as the Journeyman Protectors. Given that, I imagine that he views war as something inevitable, but also something that can be mitigated.

War doesn’t touch Tatooine.

Oh, it might raise taxes and import rates. It might prevent visitors who come for the races. It can do a lot of things.

But to a slave, these are nothing. The only thing war does is affect the master, the person who chooses when their slaves get water, when they get beaten, when they are no longer useful enough to keep around or keep alive.

The peace of a slave’s live is dictated by how much abuse they are subjected to by the person who owns them.

What this means for Soka and Ben is... well, they are viewed as war-hungry by the people who don’t know them very well. They have armor. They focus on fighting, both with and without their sabers. They know tactics better than most masters. They claim that war is coming, and don’t seem too sad about it.

(It is a fact to them. War will come. All they can do is meet it. They’ve already done their mourning once.)

They also... well, Shmi tells them things in hidden corners. How to duck their head to hide the hate or fear in their eyes. How to watch for the anger in the tendons of a hand. The laugh of someone who enjoys the pain they’ve caused, not just the adrenaline of a fight. She is free, and so are they, but she has not forgotten how to hide in the shadows until the master’s ire has turned elsewhere. How to be small and quiet and unseen until the danger passes.

A Jedi’s first resort is words. Their second is their saber. But the Jeedai hold their heads high, and the Mandalorians do the same.

“You rely on the Force, and you have your pride,” she tells them, her hands on their own. “But there will come a time when you will not be able to remind people that you are free. You will not be able to say that you are a person, that you deserve the respect of a living sentient. Perhaps it will be a politician who treats everyone like that. Perhaps you will be captured by an enemy. Perhaps you will be undercover. You will not be able to fight, with words or with weapons, and you will have to know how to survive.”

Tatooine does not have peace. Tatooine only has survival.

And while Jedi fight for the survival and peace of the universe, they are refined and composed. Mando’ade fight like warriors of old, and Tatooine slaves fight like cornered, rabid anooba.

The galaxy comes first, but when the chips are down and the Sith come out to play, Soka and Ben do not need refinement, because they know how to toss aside their pride and live.

#Tatooine #Mandalore #Jedi #culture clash #star wars #the clone wars #Anakin Skywalker #Shmi Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi Wan Kenobi #Jaster Mereel #family #war #Phoenix Posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #Phoenix Answers Asks #I have no idea how accurate this is but it's what I'm working with

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be-gay-do-heists · 4 years ago

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hello yall :) the holy month of elul started last night, which is typically a time for contemplation, so since it is impossible for me to stop thinking about leverage, i decided to write an essay. hope anyone interested in reading it enjoys, and that it makes at least a little sense!! spoilers for leverage redemption

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Leverage, Judaism, and “Doing the Work”: An Essay for Elul

When it comes to Elul and the approaching High Holidays, Leverage might seem like an odd topic to meditate on.

The TNT crime drama that ran from 2008-2012, and which released a new season this summer following its renewal, centers on a group of found-family thieves who help the victims of corporations and oligarchs (sometimes based on real-world examples), using wacky heists and cons to bring down the rich and powerful. In one episode, the team’s clients want to reclaim their father’s prized Glimt piece that had been stolen in the Shoah and never returned, but aside from this and the throwaway lines and jokes standard for most mainstream television, there’s not a ton textually Jewish about Leverage. However, despite this, I have found that the show has strong resonance among Jewish fans, and lots of potential for analysis along Jewish themes. This tends to focus on one character in particular: the group’s brilliant, pop culture-savvy, and personable hacker, Alec Hardison, played by the phenomenally talented Aldis Hodge.

I can’t remember when or where I first encountered a reading of Hardison as Jewish, but not only is this a somewhat popular interpretation, it doesn’t feel like that much of a leap. In the show itself, Hardison has a couple of the aforementioned throwaway lines that potentially point to him being Jewish, even if they’re only in service of that moment’s grift. It’s hard to point to what exactly makes reading Hardison as Jewish feel so natural. My first guess is the easy way Hardison fits into the traditional paradigms of Jewish masculinity explored by scholars such as Daniel Boyarin (2). Most of the time, the hacker is not portrayed as athletic or physical; he is usually the foil to the team’s more physically-adept characters like fighter Eliot, or thief Parker. Indeed, Hardison’s strength is mental, expressed not only through his computer wizardry but his passions for science, technology, music, popular media, as well as his studious research into whatever scenario the group might come up against. In spite of his self-identification as a “geek,” Hardison is nevertheless confident, emotionally sensitive, and secure in his masculinity. I would argue he is representative of the traditional Jewish masculine ideal, originating in the rabbinic period and solidified in medieval Europe, of the dedicated and thoughtful scholar (3). Another reason for popular readings of Hardison as Jewish may be the desire for more representation of Jews of color. Although mainstream American Jewish institutions are beginning to recognize the incredible diversity of Jews in the United States (4), and popular figures such as Tiffany Haddish are amplifying the experiences of non-white Jews, it is still difficult to find Jews of color represented in popular media. For those eager to see this kind of representation, then, interpreting Hardison, a black man who places himself tangential to Jewishness, in this way is a tempting avenue.

Regardless, all of the above remains fan interpretation, and there was little in the text of the show that seriously tied Judaism into Hardison’s identity. At least, until we got this beautiful speech from Hardison in the very first episode of the renewed show, directed at the character of Harry Wilson, a former corporate lawyer looking to atone for the injustice he was partner to throughout his career:

“In the Jewish faith, repentance, redemption, is a process. You can’t make restitution and then promise to change. You have to change first. Do the work, Harry. Then and only then can you begin to ask for forgiveness. [...] So this… this isn’t the win. It’s the start, Harry.”

I was floored to hear this speech, and thrilled that it explained the reboot’s title, Leverage: Redemption. Although not mentioned by its Hebrew name, teshuvah forms the whole basis for the new season. Teshuvah is the concept of repentance or atonement for the sins one has committed. Stemming from the root shuv/shuva, it carries the literal sense of “return.” In a spiritual context, this usually means a return to G-d, of finding one’s way back to holiness and by extension good favor in the eyes of the Divine. But equally important is restoring one’s relationships with fellow humans by repairing any hurt one has caused over the past year. This is of special significance in the holy month of Elul, leading into Rosh haShanah, the Yamim Noraim, and Yom Kippur, but one can undertake a journey of redemption at any point in time. That teshuvah is a journey is a vital message for Harry to hear; one job, one reparative act isn’t enough to overturn years of being on the wrong side of justice, to his chagrin. As the season progresses, we get to watch his path of teshuvah unfold, with all its frustrations and consequences. Harry grows into his role as a fixer, not only someone who can find jobs and marks for the team, but fixes what he has broken or harmed.

So why was Hardison the one to make this speech?

I do maintain that it does provide a stronger textual basis for reading Hardison as Jewish by implication (though the brief on-screen explanation for why he knows about teshuvah, that his foster-parent Nana raised a multi-faith household, is important in its own merit, and meshes well with his character traits of empathy and understanding for diverse experiences). However, beyond this, Hardison isn’t exactly an archetypical model for teshuvah. In the original series, he was the youngest character of the main ensemble, a hacking prodigy in the start of his adult career, with few mistakes or slights against others under his belt. In one flashback we see that his possibly first crime was stealing from the Bank of Iceland to pay off his Nana’s medical bills, and that his other early hacking exploits were in the service of fulfilling personal desires, with only those who could afford to pay the bill as targets. Indeed, in the middle of his speech, Hardison points to Eliot, the character with the most violent and gritty past who views his work with the Leverage team as atonement, for a prime example of ongoing teshuvah. So while no one is perfect and everyone has a reason for doing teshuvah, this question of why Hardison is the one to give this series-defining speech inspired me to look at his character choices and behavior, and see how they resonate with a different but interrelated Jewish principle, that of tikkun olam.

Tikkun olam is literally translated as “repairing the world,” and can take many different forms, such as protecting the rights of vulnerable people in society, or giving tzedakah (5). In modern times, tikkun olam is often the rallying cry for Jewish social activists, particularly among environmentalists for whom literally restoring the health of the natural world is the key goal. Teshuvah and tikkun olam are intertwined (the former is the latter performed at an interpersonal level) and both hold a sense of fixing or repairing, but tikkun olam really revolves around a person feeling called to address an injustice that they may have not had a personal hand in creating. Hardison’s sense of a universal scale of justice which he has the power to help right on a global level and his newfound drive to do humanitarian work, picked up sometime after the end of the original series, make tikkun olam a central value for his character. This is why we get this nice bit of dialogue from Eliot to Hardison in the second episode of the reboot, when the latter’s outside efforts to organize international aid start distracting him from his work with the team: “Is [humanitarian work] a side gig? In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work… you’re the only one, man.” The character who most exemplifies teshuvah reminds Hardison of his amazing ability to effect change for the better on a huge stage, to do some effective tikkun olam. It’s this acknowledgement of where Hardison can do the most good that prompts the character’s absence for the remainder of the episodes released thus far, turning his side gig into his main gig.

With this in mind, it will be interesting to see where Hardison’s arc for this season goes. Separated from the rest of the team, the hacker still has remarkable power to change the world, because it is, after all, the “age of the geek.” However, he is still one person. For all that both teshuvah and tikkun olam are individual responsibilities and require individual decision-making and effort, the latter especially relies on collective work to actually make things happen. Hardison leaving is better than trying to do humanitarian work and Leverage at the same time, but there’s only so long he can be the “only one” in the field before burning out. I’m reminded of one of the most famous (for good reason) maxims in Judaism:

It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to neglect it. (6)

Elul is traditionally a time for introspection and heeding the calls to repentance. After a year where it’s never been easier to feel powerless and drained by everything going on around us, I think it’s worth taking the time to examine what kind of work we are capable of in our own lives. Maybe it’s fixing the very recent and tangible hurts we’ve left behind, like Harry. Maybe it’s the little changes for the better that we make every day, motivated by our sense of responsibility, like Eliot. And maybe it’s the grueling challenge of major social change, like Hardison. And if any of this work gets too much, who can we fall back on for support and healing? Determining what needs repair, working on our own scale and where our efforts are most helpful, and thereby contributing to justice in realistic ways means that we can start the new year fresh, having contemplated in holiday fashion how we can be better agents in the world.

Shana tovah u’metukah and ketivah tovah to all (7), and may the work we do in the coming year be for good!

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(1) Disclaimer: everybody’s fandom experiences are different, and this is just what I’ve picked up on in my short time watching and enjoying this show with others.

(2) See, for example, the introduction and first chapter of Boyarin’s book Unheroic Conduct: The Rise of Heterosexuality and the Invention of the Jewish Man (I especially recommend at least this portion if you are interested in queer theory and Judaic studies). There he explores the development of Jewish masculinity in direct opposition to Christian masculine standards.

(3) I might even go so far as to place Hardison well within the Jewish masculine ideal of Edelkayt, gentle and studious nobility (although I would hesitate to call him timid, another trait associated with Edelkayt). Boyarin explains that this scholarly, non-athletic model of man did not carry negative associations in the historical Jewish mindset, but was rather the height of attractiveness (Boyarin, 2, 51).

(4) Jews of color make up 20% of American Jews, according to statistics from Be’chol Lashon, and this number is projected to increase as American demographics continue to change: https://globaljews.org/about/mission/.

(5) Tzedakah is commonly known as righteous charity. According to traditional authority Maimonides, it should be given anonymously and without embarrassment to the person in need, generous, and designed to help the recipient become self-sufficient.

(6) Rabbi Tarfon, Pirkei Avot, 2:16

(7) “A good and sweet year” and “a good inscription [in the Book of Life]”

#leverage #miko speaks #jewish stuff #jumblr #leverage redemption #spoilers #lr spoilers #leverage redemption spoilers #written for a non leverage audience because i want my rabbi to read it alskdjflaksdjf #elul

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tiramisiyu · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on Xia Yan’s Anniversary/Kiss Date

Not a translation, but rather an unleashing of the many thoughts I had for his date because it made me feel so many emotions and think so many things;;

Wordcount: 2.8k

Date Translation

Preamble

Tears of Themis’ 1st anniversary features one of the most significant in-story events you can view within an otome game - the confession event between MC and respective male leads. The gravity of this confession event, however, is intensified with respect to the ML Xia Yan, as their emotions towards each other is not the only focus of said confession - he must also reveal the heartbreaking truth that his life is likely to end in three years.

In the below sections, I will discuss the significance of various components that comprise Xia Yan’s anniversary date. My primary focuses will be on Xia Yan’s internal struggles, his care for MC, and the nature of the confession, and I aim to ultimately express why this date had such a major effect on me and whoa if you’re still reading this rambling part, I applaud you. I’m really just doing a fancy thoughtdump here.

The Nature of the Confession Event

From the beginning, XY never intended for the confession to be full of pomp and circumstance - and this was out of concern for MC, fearing that she would be too swept up in emotion to make it. Based on how the other guys’ cards look (them being outside and MC’s all dressed up), I assume that there was some ceremony-like aspect to their respective confessions, and I think that this draws a stark contrast to XY’s (who staunchly refused Yang Xiao’s offer to help make his confession just as ceremonial). In XY’s, MC’s not dressed up the way she is for the others, and both have been drenched in rain and are dissolving into tears of sadness as they speak. In addition, their desires are conflicting (rather than a situation where both parties confess and get together, and thus have coinciding interests) - despite what XY has said before, he does not want MC to be with him, while MC wants the exact opposite. It’s not a beautiful or gorgeous scene by design - instead, it’s very raw, very 狼狈 as the two lay bare their own painful emotions, discuss/cry about heavy topics, and show very vulnerable sides to each other, trying to get through to the other person.

Speaking of showing vulnerability, the fact that Xia Yan is so anguished by what he has to say that he has to sit down and cry hits particularly hard because he has always, always tried to put on a strong face in front of MC. Whenever his illness strikes and MC sees it, such as in aquarium date or Neruda poem date, he’ll smile and/or joke about it after. When the two were talking about his posthumous letters during the RRG date, he still had a calm smile on his face. Even when he talked about being shoved into a car trunk to be “disposed of”, he was still calmly smiling. As MC noted, his job has taught him to have extreme control over his emotions, so it’s almost overwhelming, trying to imagine how much sadness pushed him to that point.

Pathetic fallacy also plays a part in increasing the impact that the confession event had. In the days leading up to the last part of the date, storms keep striking suddenly, such that it’s even described as “strange”. Storms are, of course, generally associated with less-pleasant things, such as conflict, anger, depression, difficulty, and so on. The meaning behind why they appeared suddenly or frequently is a little harder to understand, but my assumption for the frequency of the storms (rather than an ongoing storm or gloom) reflects how things could not completely “clear up” (despite uplifts in emotion from time to time) until they confronted each other with their feelings. During the confrontation, not only is the storm still going on, but they’re also harshly drenched in the cold rainwater. It is only after the kiss, after their interests finally coincide, that the storm lifts and the beautiful starry sky casts its light on Xia Yan, who was holding the majority of the conflict/sadness/depression between the two of them. (This is also highlighted in how MC notes that Xia Yan feels slightly cold (during the kiss), and she tries to transfer her warmth over to him, trying to alleviate that heavy emotion that’s wrapped itself around him.)

The Location

The attic of their old home remains an important location for these two, and I pretty much can’t think of a better choice to set the confession. It contains their childhood memories, and it also came into play during Xia Yan’s first birthday after his return (i.e. the idea of continuing to make memories there). It’s also interesting to note that Xia Yan, from his rational mindset, did not intend to see MC… yet he still came to this place - a place that was equally meaningful to both of them, and a place where he’s likely to get lost in emotion. He may be restraining his emotions for MC’s good, yet they still show in small places. (At least, there doesn’t seem to be any logical reason for him to be there, since he wasn’t setting anything up there…)

The Humanizing and Internal Conflict of Xia Yan

I call it “humanizing” because I’ve done some commenting before on how Xia Yan has felt a little superhuman - so many skills everywhere, and rarely a moment of weakness. Now, this date really drives home that he is just human too, with the harsh reality of imminent death hanging over him (especially since we also learn a few more concrete details on exactly what his illness is). This point is brought into attention when he talks about how he’s neither able to be as brave as Schumann (who acted based on emotion) nor as silently strong as Brahms (who acted based on reason). He’s pulled in so many directions for all the things he wants - a desire to stay by MC’s side and do so much with her, whether as family or as something more, versus his rational mindset that tells him to not see her at all, to disappear from her life after, or to push her away even after her confession. There was also his “rationally” created plan in which he would give her the letter and let her decide, yet he still tries to convince her to not be with him.

The Schumann/Brahms comparison shows how he keeps getting pulled back and forth between reason and emotion. He reveals his feelings to MC (Schumann), but wants her to make the optimal decision, which he believes is to not be with him (Brahms). He then kisses her after hearing her conviction (Schumann) and then gives her the gift that’s linked to Brahms. In realizing that he’s not able to stick to either path, he calls himself a coward - but he doesn’t need to be like either person. As MC says, his restraint is a part of his own background, and his emotional wavering is because of his care for MC - all in all, his motivations are because he is Xia Yan, not Schumann or Brahms.

Personal Story Chapter 2 Parallels

In Xia Yan’s personal chapter 2, Yang Xiao sets up the story of 零/Zero and 玛丽薇莎/Marivisa to mirror MC and Xia Yan (respectively). The mention of what will bring Zero and MC happiness is starkly similar in these two situations:

⊳ Personal Ch.2-9

Xia Yan: 因为...这样，零会更幸福... 她不是在牺牲，她只是用自己的方式让零能幸福。Because this way, Zero would be happier… She wasn’t sacrificing herself. She was only using her own methods to make Zero happy.

MC: 但零的幸福就是她啊。But Zero’s happiness is her.

Xia Yan: 她已经无法给零幸福了。 It’s already impossible for her to give Zero happiness.

⊳ Date

Xia Yan: 如果你选择别的男人。。。只要他能给你幸福。我只会带给你不幸，我没有时间了。。。If you choose another man… As long as he can make you happy. All I can bring you is unhappiness. I don’t have much time left…

MC: 你怎么可能带给我不幸，你怎么可能做不到给我幸福。你在我身边，你的存在本身，就是我的幸福。How is it possible that you can only bring me unhappiness? How is it impossible for you to bring me happiness? You being by my side – your very existence – is my happiness.

Yes, the Zero/Marivisa story was intentionally made to parallel these two, so it might feel moot to compare them like this. However, I still really appreciated that they brought this discussion of what brings MC/Zero happiness back, especially since XY’s chapter 2 was very major in developing his character. Back then, MC is vehement in that Zero would have been happier spending all the time he could with Marivisa, as well as even having the choice to spend that time with her. I think that this part was instrumental in Xia Yan eventually deciding to tell her the truth and letting her make her own decision (as he explicitly stated to Yang Xiao in part 1 of the date). However, he still wasn’t fully convinced by what MC said back in chapter 2, so we satisfyingly see this discussion of happiness come full circle by the end of this date, when Xia Yan finally trusts MC to make the best decision for herself.

Xia Yan’s Considerateness

Xia Yan’s enduring consideration for MC displays itself in nearly every single action within this date.

The flashback, when he thinks about MC potentially having to go through what the widow is now experiencing, and how his own happiness for three years isn’t worth that

His conviction to give her the right to decide in this matter that involves both of them, because he can’t be the one to decide everything

He insisted on not making it a romantic event, because he wants MC to make the best decision without having a mind clouded by emotion. He’s also made peace with the idea of not being with MC, for the sake of her long-term happiness. All he wants is for her to know the truth of his feelings and illness.

His decision to still make MC a gift to retain some aspect of the romance in the confession (but he only gives the gift after MC has made her decision, again to ensure that her mind isn’t clouded). I think the concept of the gift is particularly beautiful - the little, happy holograms of them inside the glass, as if ensuring that he will always be by her side in some way; the music that brings back their childhood memories and alludes to an enduring, quiet, and protecting love that puts the recipient first (i.e. Brahms to Clara); and the rainbow, which has its childhood memories and treasure implications that are already mentioned in the date, but it also reminded me of the miraculous double rainbow in his Lost Gold date. That double rainbow was the trigger for Xia Yan to proactively seek out a future with MC, when he took the initiative to ask MC if she could be with him to seek out more miracles. Overall, there are a lot of beautiful memories and implications wrapped up in that music box/snowglobe.

The little comical segment where he worries about the optimal time to deliver the letter, worrying about MC’s sleep or if she’ll be able to eat well.

His stress over what he should’ve done after the letter was delivered, and how he immediately answered MC’s call out of pure worry, despite being so resolute about not answering her calls that he’d turned on airplane mode before.

Their ensuing discussion in part 3 is just full of Xia Yan’s consideration for MC at its peak -

Rather than being ecstatic about MC’s confession, his first instinct is to tell her to take a few days to think about it logically. (But really, emotions aren’t logical to begin with, so it’s not like MC would’ve stopped liking you after mulling it over for a few days, haha)

His immediate apology after yelling that he has to mention his death

His worry about how MC will cope after he’s gone, going so far as to saying that she would be better off with another man

I think that this particular (above) line got a particularly visceral reaction from Xia Yan fans, including myself. Because like MC, our initial thoughts fell along the lines of “How could I ever choose someone else when the only person I like is you? There’s just no way someone else could make me happier…”. Another reaction that I’ve seen among Xia Yan fans (yep, including myself) is how we originally viewed the story in third-person, seeing “MC” in the story, but this date (and this particular scene, where MC says nearly everything that I myself would want to say) dragged us into a first-person position.

The heartbreaking scene where Xia Yan cries from being unable to give MC the happiness that he wants to give her (or so he thinks).

He’s just so painfully selfless. I also really like the line during the kiss where MC tries to transmit her warmth to him, trying to balance things out between them and have him feel better, when he had already written himself off by thinking that his happiness is better off sacrificed for hers.

Jin Xian’s Voice Acting

Jin Xian’s voice acting deserves a whole section to itself, because I think that he did an amazing job of portraying the intense emotions Xia Yan feels during the date. Just going to list some lines that really hit hard - both because of the content, and because of the voice acting that really considered how Xia Yan would be feeling then.

我可以去追她，我甚至可以和她结婚。我可以把最后的三年过得很好，过的毫无遗憾，但是然后呢？她一个人要怎么办。。。谁陪她走出来，谁来照顾她。。。(“I could pursue her. I could even marry her. I could live my last three years happily, without the slightest of regrets. But what about after? How will she cope on her own… Who will be with her as she handles this? Who will take care of her…”) The ups and downs of this section’s voicing really hit hard.

The gentleness with which he speaks about what he plans to tell MC, especially the line 她从来都是这样 (“She’s always been like that.”)

He’s so cute in Part 2!! The tone’s a lot happier and relaxed and it’s really nice to see and hear.

In part 3, the vehemence with which he talks about how the risks of MC’s work aren’t comparable to his established time limit, which then softens into something sadder when he talks about how Yang Xiao’s efforts haven’t extended his time by much.

The intensity when he says 我必须说 ! (“I have to say it!”) (when MC reacts to him using the word “death”), and how he immediately softens his tone after. But then his voice starts to rise again as he worries for how MC will bear his death… and then he takes a break to calm down, and then makes the suggestion of MC finding another man with a near-inflectionless tone that gradually slips into a whisper

His whispering voice makes the impact of 我在乎。。。！(I care…!) hit even harder because it’s suddenly loud, and you can clearly hear the tears in his voice. Once again, he takes a breath to calm himself down and quiet his voice. But even as he keeps talking in a voice that descends into a whisper again, you can tell that he’s still on the verge of crying…

Also the 我也。。。好喜欢，最喜欢你. (I also… like you. I like you the most) line left me screaming with how it was whispered but really strong and adamant-sounding aaaaa

Anyways I could list more but at that point I might as well list Jin Xian’s entire script lmao. He did such a good job!!!!!!

Sound Effects

I’m laughing at myself for including this section - if you turn off the music that accompanies Xia Yan’s card, you’ll… hear some very interesting sound effects [狗头]

They’ve got to make the most of their limited time together, after all, and this is the only date out of the set of four that’s indoors… it makes sense…

Other Thoughts

Two kisses!!

What sort of treatment would leave Xia Yan infected with drugs with prohibited components? What were they even trying to do?

The date was short relative to the other, super-long Themis dates, but I’m personally alright with that because it places focus on the confession itself. It hit all the points that I personally was expecting for Xia Yan’s confession, including his past struggles with the idea of staying with MC, his confession about both his feelings and his illness, and how resolute MC is about staying with him vs. how hard he tries to get her to understand the implications of being him, considering that he doesn’t have much time left.

I think now’s a good time for the two of them to get married if they’re well aware that Xia Yan’s time is limited, so Xia Yan, where’s the ruby ring?

I wonder what implications this will have on the main story - e.g. will the rest of NXX find out about Xia Yan’s illness in Chapter 7.2? Or will they never know? Actually, I wonder if they’ll have MC be aware of his illness in the main story because… that implies his confession happened, which might anger fans of the other boys.

Conclusion

I love Xia Yan and I love this date.

#tears of themis #xia yan #luke pearce #rambles #this whole thing is kinda messy so kudos if you made it through

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taexual · 4 years ago

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (17)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst → smut (dom!jjk themes but only because he can’t control himself lol)

words: 8.2k

chapter seventeen

Namjoon dropped you off back on campus and was even kind enough – or guilty enough – to offer his help in your search for Jungkook, but you didn’t want to take up any more of his time and, in the case of actually finding Jungkook, you didn’t think you’d make the situation better by having Namjoon with you.

The first thing you did after you exited his car on campus was leave the campus – because you thought that Jungkook may have lingered by the club where Parental Advisory performed tonight; even if his bandmates didn’t seem to think so, since Yoongi insisted they’d lost their lead vocalist – and walking around in the shoes you’d picked today was almost enough to make you regret not asking Namjoon to drive you around, after all.

You hadn’t worn heels but the ballet flats were still not fit for this much walking and, once you circled the club twice and even asked the manager – who was having a smoke outside – if he’d seen Jungkook, you decided that you could understand why Yoongi had been so upset about his bandmate’s disappearance.

As you returned to campus, you decided that you were also ready to strangle Jungkook once you finally found him.

“Have you heard anything from him?” you asked in your text message to Yoongi and then informed him, “I’m on my way to my dorm now to change into more comfortable shoes but I’ll check some of the buildings where he has classes after that.”

Just as you passed the library – and peeked inside because, although slim, there was the possibility that Jungkook may have been hiding out here (he wasn’t) – your phone buzzed with Yoongi’s reply.

“The guys and I will check them,” he was saying, “are there any other places on campus that have some significance to you and him?”

You did a double-take when you finished reading the text, not liking the wave of awkward and misplaced guilt that returned when you fully grasped what Yoongi was implying – he may not have been accusing you of anything, but he was, clearly, convinced that you were the reason why Jungkook missed the encore of his show and then disappeared off of the face of the Earth.

“I’m not sure,” you started to type back as you walked past the double-doors of your dormitory, startling your seemingly drunk RA who had been dozing off on the couch in the first-floor lounge. You stopped typing to press the elevator button, but then resumed, “I’ll walk around. He couldn’t have gone far.”

“He could have,” came Yoongi’s arbitrary – but, frankly, objective – response and you sighed as you read his words, your reflection looking very gloomy in the mirror of the elevator. “But let’s hope he didn’t. If you find him first, kick him where it hurts most. And then punch him for me, too.”

You couldn’t help snickering at the absurdity of the situation that you were in – you definitely never thought you’d end up bonding with Jungkook’s bandmates over your mutual frustration with him – as you typed back your response.

“If his phone isn’t back on within the next ten minutes,” you were saying in your text, stopping for a second when the elevator ding! announced that you’d reached your floor, “I will be doing a lot more than just—”

You stopped typing as an audible gasp escaped your lips, prompted by the sight at the far end of the hallway, right by the door of your dorm. Your phone nearly left your hands, on its way to crash on the floor. You’d caught it—miraculously—your eyes still locked on the figure, sitting on the floor by your door.

“Jungkook,” you said, meaning it as a question but not being able to articulate it properly due to your shock. The dim lighting of the hallway made it difficult for you to make out if it the silhouette was actually him, or if it was someone who was incredibly similar to him.

“Oh,” the person replied and – clumsily – stood up, relying heavily on the wall to help him support his weight. It was Jungkook alright. But barely. “You’re here.”

“I’m—of course, I’m here. I live here,” you said, not sure how to react. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

Various unintelligible sounds left your mouth after he said this – the first syllables of all the words you wanted to say in the moment; all of them rated-R – until you settled on watching him for a minute to get some time to form a coherent thought and to asses the damage.

It didn’t look like he’d been in a fight. It simply looked like he got very drunk and plopped down on the floor next to your dorm room.

“Waiting for—Jungkook, fuck—do you know that your band is literally out there, looking for you?” you demanded after inhaling sharply. “There’s a whole search party for you and you’re—you’re here.”

“I was waiting for you to come back,” Jungkook said. He was a lot more sober now than he was hours ago, but he still wasn’t sober enough to recognize his own guilt. Actually, he was probably never sober enough to feel guilty about anything, but alcohol had little to do with it. “I was going to drive over there to find you—”

“You’re drunk,” you snapped, interrupting him.

“Yeah, and that’s why I didn’t,” he said, pausing for more effect as he waited for you to express your admiration for his self-control but, after it didn’t come, he cleared his throat and, sounding disappointed, explained, “I knew you would give me shit if I drove a car drunk and I promised you that I wouldn’t. So I didn’t. I waited for you here instead.”

“You should have known that drunk-driving is unacceptable because that puts you and everyone around you in danger,” you countered, the moral superiority in your voice clouding the meaning of your words, “and not just because I would give you shit if you did it again.”

He rolled his eyes but chose not to expand on this argument because you didn’t look like you were in the right mood to understand his point of view about “conforming to societal norms”, even if it meant that he was putting himself – and those around him – in danger. Not to mention, he was still too tipsy to hold out a proper conversation.

“How long have you been here?” you asked after he didn’t reply.

You were well-aware that you were having this conversation in the hallway when you could have, theoretically, had it in your room. The door was right there. The key was in your handbag.

But entering – and inviting him inside – wasn’t something you were ready for just yet. The adrenaline from not knowing where Jungkook was and what had happened to him still hadn’t faded. Your breathing still hadn’t calmed down – funnily enough, it would not calm down for the rest of the night, but you didn’t know that yet.

“A while,” he replied just as you remembered you were supposed to let Yoongi know you’d located the missing boy. You got your phone out while Jungkook continued, “I bribed your RA with my six-pack of Heineken. Well, actually, it wasn’t really mine, I just took it from the bar, but—”

You stopped typing the text message to give him a hard look. “You stole six bottles of beer?”

Jungkook blinked, thrown off by the fever in your eyes. “No. I took them.”

“Without paying?” you asked. He nodded. “That’s stealing.”

“I do it all the time,” he waved his hand dismissively – and pushed himself off the wall in the process, only to lean back against it again a moment later, when he realized he was still not steady enough on his feet. He nodded his head at your phone, “ask Yoongi. The manager knows us there. We get drinks on the house.”

“I’m—how do you know I’m texting Yoongi?”

“You said there was a search party for me,” he said, taking you off-guard with his accurate conclusions. You wondered what sort of effect alcohol had on him, “Yoongi is the only one that cares enough to lead it.”

He didn’t mean to make it sound sad – in fact, his facial expression remained the same: somewhat cautious and a little irritated – but you still felt an unpleasant pang of misery in the pit of your stomach.

“He’s—well, I care, too,” you said with a nervous cough that was meant to rid you of all pity you felt towards him because pity didn’t justify what he did. “A lot of people care. You can’t just disappear like that in the middle of your show and—”

“It is Yoongi you’re texting, right?” Jungkook asked suddenly, his eyes narrowing. “Not someone else?”

He was probably trying to be nonchalant about it but, consciously or not, he ended up making his question unbearably obvious. The “someone else” may have been an abstract concept to outsiders – your peers, lurking by their doors and watching the argument play out through their peepholes – but you both knew whom Jungkook had in mind.

“Yes,” you said. “I was texting Yoongi. We’d agreed to let each other know if we found you.”

“Okay, good,” Jungkook said and proceeded to act like this was all a mere misunderstanding that wasn’t worth a lengthy discussion. “Can we go inside now? It’s weird to talk in the hall.”

“Are you going to tell me why you got drunk before your show?” you asked, your voice on the edge of yelling. “Or why you skipped out on the encore?”

Understanding that answering this was the one condition to enter your room, Jungkook sighed.

He was hoping you’d come to your own conclusion about this and he could just roll with whatever you thought was the truth – that he was useless, untrustworthy, reckless, and any other thing that people regarded him as – because explaining himself meant talking about his feelings. And he was so good at pretending that he didn’t like to do that.

“Because you weren’t there,” Jungkook answered.

You couldn’t help but groan. You’d gotten so tired of his no-more-than-four-word responses to serious questions, you couldn’t hear any more of them. You hated having to ask specific questions to get him to talk when he knew very well what you wanted to know.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you questioned irritably. “I wasn’t at your previous shows and that didn’t seem to be a problem.”

“Before—”

“Not to mention,” you continued, choosing to let it all out now that he’d shown you he wasn’t going to be completely upfront with you, “you knew where I was. We’d talked about our plans for tonight extensively, and I wasn’t supposed to hear from you until the barbecue ended and you wrapped up your show.”

“Okay, fine,” Jungkook said, his voice rushed. He didn’t want to hear any more of your accusations because he knew he would lose the battle of wits – he would have lost it on an ordinary day, but today, everything he said seemed extremely wrong. “It’s because you were with him.”

“With Namjoon?” you clarified, crossing your arms over your chest.

Not liking your defensive stance, Jungkook swallowed and said slowly, “yes.”

You looked away from him then – as if you were gazing into an unseen camera and waiting for someone to yell that you’d been punk’d – your eyes losing focus.

“Are you kidding me?” you asked with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

“I’m not,” he replied, his jaw clenched. “My own father sent me the picture.”

“The picture?” you raised your eyebrows, almost laughing. “It was just a picture of the company employees! Namjoon happened to be standing next to me. You can’t seriously be acting like that because of something as minor and irrelevant as this. I thought we’d already talked about this.”

Completely forgetting every past conversation, Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Minor and irrelevant,” he repeated, an undeniable snarl in his voice. “Is that what this is? At this point, you spend as much time with him as you do with me.”

“Why is that a problem?” you challenged. “We’d already agreed you wouldn’t do this! I am allowed to hang out with my friends. You have no reason – or no right, for that matter – to react like that. You know there’s nothing going on.”

“I’m not—”

“And I spend even more time with Inna than I do with Namjoon,” you cut him off, “why was she never an issue?”

“Oh, so, Inna, Namjoon, and I are all the same to you?”

You squinted your eyes, trying to see through the trap he must have set for you with this question. “Yes.”

“Oh, how brilliant,” Jungkook scoffed, pushing himself off the wall and turning his back to you as he spat, “your three closest friends.”

“I wouldn’t say—”

He turned around suddenly, his gaze full of blazing fire. “Do you kiss them the way you kissed me last week?”

His words seemed to punch you right in your lungs and all breath left them as you stood there, trying desperately to inhale and suddenly feeling a lot more drunk than he was, despite not having had a single drop of alcohol tonight.

“I didn’t think we were going to talk about that,” you said lamely, all conflict having left you along with your breath. It wasn’t really a response to his question but it was the best you could do when he was looking at you like that.

“We weren’t,” he said. “But only because I could see how much you didn’t want to. I could tell you were pushing me away—”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he interrupted you before you could properly interrupt him, and continued his tirade, “and I understand your reasons. I left you seven years ago and friends aren’t supposed to do that. They don’t abandon friends.”

Faced with this point-blank truth, you were forced to lower your eyes to the floor as you attempted to lie, “I-I didn’t—”

“I told you of my reasons back then,” Jungkook said, not needing your excuses. He knew what the truth was and he didn’t blame you for feeling insecure. “I wanted to keep you safe from myself. And maybe I have my reasons now, too.”

“What?” your stomach dropped. When you looked up at him again, he was already standing a few steps closer to you. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to walk away from you,” he said, spilling his next words in one single breath, “but I can’t handle just fake-dating you because the thought of someone else dating you for real, makes me want to tear the fucker up to pieces.”

You didn’t say anything, not entirely sure if you understood his speedy delivery correctly or if your heart was banging against your ribs for no reason.

“And maybe that’s why I should leave,” he spoke then, taking another step towards you and taking over your personal space not with just his words, but with his presence, too. “But we’re both adults now. I’m still learning how to properly be one, but I’d already missed one opportunity to be with you and I can’t miss another one. So, even though I should, I can’t fucking leave. I don’t want to.”

Speaking quietly, you asked, “then don’t.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said and you couldn’t find it in yourself to lift your eyes to his and settled on watching his lips instead, which was about ten times worse, “I am—I’m in love with you and I don’t want to be the same as the rest of your friends for you. And I really don’t fucking want to be the same as Namjoon.”

“Namjoon—he drove me here,” you found yourself saying as your mind short-circuited, “to look for you. He’s kind and understanding but neither of us are interested in one another. He… I think he always knew that my heart was elsewhere.”

This time, it was Jungkook who needed a full explanation, not an off-handed excuse. “Where?”

Right here, you would have said but you chose to show him instead as you leaned in closer, removing the remaining bits of distance between you by gently touching his lips with yours.

Jungkook reacted immediately, responding to you and refusing to let you pull away by placing one of his hands on your right elbow and another one on your waist. He wasted a split-second when he pulled back to inhale, but then he made up for it by kissing you again, his lips closing against yours in a tight lip-lock.

You pulled back, however, a smacking noise echoing around the hallway as you did, whispering to him, “are you still drunk?”

“Not in the slightest,” Jungkook replied breathlessly before pressing his lips to yours again.

Kissing him back and feeling how the quick, gentle pecks turned into deep, open-mouthed kisses as his tongue caressed your lower lip before making its way into your mouth, made your mind hazy and you were forced to hold onto him tighter.

He sighed into the kiss; the feeling of you clutching the flaps of his jacket was more than enough to make him lose his mind.

And then you let go suddenly, pulling away yet again.

“Are you going to do it again?” you asked because you had to hear him say it. “Are you going to leave? Stop talking to me?”

To be honest, Jungkook would have promised you the world in that moment. Hell, he’d have promised you the whole universe when you looked at him like that – with eyes full of need and parted lips as you tried to catch your breath.

“Never,” he told you.

You seemed to read his mind. “You better not be saying that so we could keep kissing.”

He could have laughed at this if he didn’t know how much this meant to you – how much this meant to you-and-him – but he did know, and that’s why he took your hand, pulling it away from the flap of his denim jacket, and placing it squarely on his chest.

“I promise,” he said in tandem with his heartbeat.

Your lips crashed against each other again and the collision could have had painful consequences if your hands wouldn’t have been there to soften it. You held onto one another, pulling each other closer despite already touching everywhere it was possible to touch.

You could still taste the alcohol on his tongue but you could also taste him – mint and strawberries – especially when he used one of his hands to tilt your face in the right angle that allowed his tongue to play with yours. And then, as if he’d just snapped his fingers, you completely forgot about your surroundings and focused on kissing him back.

His touch ignited your skin and, as soon as he lifted the corner of your shirt and barely grazed your bare hip with the tips of his fingers, you already knew he’d started a fire you couldn’t put out.

In a rare moment when your mind cleared – all because Jungkook needed to inhale before he kissed you again – you realized that you were still in the hallway where, technically, anyone could have seen you.

Except that didn’t scare you much.

What scared you was this very realization: you wouldn’t have cared who saw you here, as long as he was still so close.

“My keys,” you whispered. He understood what you were saying – and what you implied by that – but he’d have rather been struck by lightning than voluntarily pulled away from you.

And so, forgetting your sanity for a yet another moment, you cherished in the feeling of his lips on yours, letting him push you against the wall next to your door.

Only when his body was pressed so tightly against yours that you found yourself trapped in the most delightful way possible, did you realize that this wasn’t going to be enough and you needed to leave the hallway before it escalated.

“Jungkook—” you tried again, pulling away this this time. Naturally, he lowered his head to kiss the side of your face instead, going down to your jawline and planting kisses on your neck, all while you desperately tried to find the keys in your handbag, your hands – and your entire body – shaking. “I can’t—ah, please, let me—the door—”

Jungkook would have pulled away from you if you’d asked but you weren’t asking – you didn’t want him to. And he had a hard time focusing on what you were saying anyway, especially when the beginning of his name never left the tip of your tongue.

Finally, your fingers located your keychain and pulled it out from your handbag. But blindly unlocking the door proved to be even more difficult than finding the keys.

Had you been less lost in each other, you could have stopped kissing for one minute to enter your dorm room, but any thought of disconnecting your mouths and bodies seemed ridiculous and impractical. Why would you waste your time by not kissing each other?

You managed to push the key into the lock through sheer luck, and then, hoping to open the door, you took a step forwards, away from the wall and into Jungkook – who didn’t mind being the one who held you, not letting you get too far away from him.

The speed with which you entered your room once the door was opened, would have probably knocked you both off your feet. But God favored those who were in love, and, the thing that you ended up knocking down, was just the bowl for keys that you and Inna kept by the door. You couldn’t have cared less about it – you barely even heard it clatter against the floor.

Following the invisible pull towards your bed, you and Jungkook successfully maneuvered past the door frame separating the bedroom area from the hallway, and – only stumbling once, when he pulled back to take his jacket off – you finally reached the privacy of your room.

“If you want me to stop,” Jungkook mumbled against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours as he held your body against his; your bed was right behind you and you knew you’d have fallen on it with the smallest push from him, “you have to tell me now because—” he kissed you again with the same raw hunger as before, “I don’t think I’ll be able to leave otherwise.”

“No,” you breathed, matching the intensity of his kisses with your own, “don’t stop.”

And that was the permission he needed to nudge you forwards until he landed on top of you on your bed, leaning on his elbows on either side of you. It was so similar to the way you’d made out on Sunday night in his parents’ house, and yet, it was so different, too, because you were past the point of caring about any interruptions now.

If someone knocked on your door right then – if someone walked in – you wouldn’t have even flinched.

Lifting your shirt and exposing more of your skin for his impatient fingers to explore, Jungkook was forced to break the kiss again, so he could fully take the garment off. And then he had to pause again so he could take a quick breather because of how ethereal you looked like this: half-naked and daring him to keep going with your eyes.

“Jungkook,” your soft whisper brought him back to life and helped him realize that this time, he wasn’t dreaming. This time, he had you here with him.

And so, he took his own shirt off before leaning down to kiss you again – clumsily and sloppily – and the new feeling of his bare skin against yours was enough for you to arch your back off the bed, all so you could feel more of him.

“Fuck,” Jungkook cursed before bringing his hands up your sides and kissing down your neck. Encouraged by the sound of your whimpers when he gently brought his teeth over the spot below your collarbone, he sucked on the skin there with more force, leaving faint bruises.

Your hands slid down to his waist – reaching for the buckle of his belt – but they froze when you felt his tongue soothe over the new mark he’d made on your neck. It stung but you felt more pleasure than pain and, for a good minute, that pleasure was all you could focus on.

You felt his fingertips dance around the edge of your bra and heavy breaths left his lips when he brought his face back to yours, stopping just close enough to feel the pull of your lips, but far enough to still be able to look you in the eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, successfully undoing your bra in his first attempt – he wouldn’t have called himself an expert in that particular area; he was just determined to always get what he wanted and he wanted you.

You barely had enough time to hum in response before he lowered his face and reconnected your lips, sliding the straps of your bra down your shoulders in a motion so slow, you nearly threw him off the bed and did it yourself.

Instead, you chose to concentrate on finally undoing his belt, which wasn’t going well due to how badly your hands were shaking. But, once you finally succeeded and got through to the zipper of his jeans, it seemed like Jungkook was no longer so dead-set on taking this slow, either.

“Oh,” a sigh passed your lips when he threw your bra to a side and repositioned himself in-between your legs, his hips grinding into yours in a dangerously satisfying way that only left you wanting more. “Please, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he spoke and his normally melodious voice seemed deeper now.

He placed a kiss to your lips again and then pulled away to slide your jeans down your legs, tossing them aside before bringing his hands over the bare skin of your ankles, then up your calves, over your knees, and down your thighs again.

“Jungkook,” you tried again, “do something, please.”

“Hmm,” he wasn’t entirely aware of his surroundings as he cherished in the feeling of your skin right under his fingertips. He had to touch – to feel – all of you, so every bit of your body, every crevice and every wrinkle, remembered him.

Your breath got caught in your throat when he finally reached the waistband of your panties, and Jungkook was convinced he was going to die when he took them off of you – but he didn’t mind dying in the slightest, not if he got to see you like this first.

“I’m going to make you feel so,” he said, lifting your hips off the bed—just barely—so he could slide your panties down your legs, “so good.”

And he resolved to show you that he meant it, peppering the insides of your thighs with butterfly kisses that were the complete opposite of the tight grip he had on you.

Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he felt the way your body shuddered in anticipation as his kisses neared your core and he could feel his own pants tighten uncomfortably around his now rock-hard length.

Placing a soft, chaste kiss right above your clit, Jungkook heard your deep breath and that encouraged him to keep going, applying more force to his kisses as he went lower. Finally, just as your hands grabbed fistfuls of the sheets underneath you, he spread your lower lips with his tongue and lightly—so lightly, that you weren’t sure you didn’t just imagine this—licked his way up to your clit.

“Oh, shit,” you threw your head back and Jungkook – who’d already proved how much positive reinforcements meant to him – released a guttural breath that vibrated against your core.

The sensation added more to the blissful feeling of his tongue as he finally flattened it against your mound, licking and sucking with a loud and sloppy slurping sound.

You gasped when the previously teasing motions increased in speed and his tongue circled around your entrance, touching and tasting you in clockwise movements, never forgetting to pay special attention to the most sensitive spots on and around your clit.

“You taste so sweet,” Jungkook spoke breathlessly and you struggled to understand him not just because of how good he was making you feel with his mouth, but also because he did not pull away far enough and his words quavered against your core. “Talk to me.”

“I-I’m—that’s good,” you tried to say but your head was spinning, “so good, you—oh! Oh, fuck, Jungkook!”

Almost screaming out in surprise, you felt his fingers against your core, gentle and careful for the first second, but eager and energetic the next as Jungkook explored the wetness around your entrance. Bringing his tongue over your clit, he slid two of his fingers inside, ready to stop and wait for your reaction but that was not needed.

Arching your back off the bed, you sighed deeply and pleaded far louder than you’d intended, “p-please—”

Smirking to himself as you struggled to finish your sentences, he sped up his movements, not giving you a moment to collect your breath as he rubbed the insides of your walls with his fingers and sucked on your clit, the slow movements of his tongue contrasting with how quickly he was moving inside of you.

“Good girl,” he said, his hot breath against your core making your whole body tingle. He felt one of your hands touch his hair, grabbing onto it; softly at first, but gradually pulling harder when the circling motions of his fingers sped up. “Are you close, baby? Tell me.”

You were close – and the pet name only increased the burning pleasure inside of you – but, at that point, you were only capable of moaning weakly, “hmmm, yes. Don’t stop, please, d-don’t—”

Gasping again as Jungkook removed his mouth from you, readjusting himself on the bed so he could move his fingers in and out of you quicker, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried desperately to keep your sounds to a minimum.

“Nngh—so close,” you spoke and just then, you felt his thumb rub vicious circles on your clit. The motion was so delicious, you were forced to abandon your attempts to stay quiet, almost shouting when you felt your walls tighten, already so close to your edge.

He could feel you clench around his fingers – a feeling that did no good to the painful hardness in his pants – and applied more force to his movements, maintaining the same speed that allowed him to pay equal attention to your swollen clit and the soft walls inside of you.

“Come for me,” he said, his voice coarse. “I want to watch you come for me, baby, please.”

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you groaned, barely able to catch your breath as he thrust his fingers in and out of you, circling and curling them in a way that was just right, until the knot in your stomach unraveled with a pop so strong, your whole body seemed to lift up from the bed as you whimpered, unable to make any other noise.

Watching you lose control of your body, Jungkook used his free hand to hold you down as he kept the pace up with his fingers while you rode out your high. Barely any sound left your mouth when you reached your peak but your heavy breaths and the rise and fall of your chest as you came still overflooded his senses.

Jungkook didn’t think it was healthy to need someone this much.

When you opened your eyes a moment later, still breathing heavily, he was hovering above you, leaning on one arm as he sucked on his fingers, exhaling shakily when you bit your lip.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to have you here like this,” he said, “how long I’ve wanted to hear you sound like this.”

Still overwhelmed and momentarily rendered speechless by the strength of your climax, you replied to him by sitting up so you could reach his lips with yours.

Kissing him – and hearing him growl into the kiss as soon as your hips pressed into his, adding pressure against his hard length – you could distinctly taste yourself on his tongue, but Jungkook wasn’t going to give you a lot of time to analyze all the different sensations you were feeling; he flipped you over until he was on his back, and you were straddling his hips.

Being on top of him gave you a lot more control of the situation, but it also made the shaking of your hands all the more obvious. You lifted yourself off him slightly to slide his jeans and boxers down, not bothering with teasing him – even though, that would have been the fair thing to do, considering how slowly he’d undressed you before.

He didn’t regret that one bit – that was plain obvious in the darkness of his lustful eyes that followed your every move – but he did wish you went a little faster because each brush of your hands right by his length made him think he was going to explode.

“There’s a condom,” he said, swallowing, “in the pocket of my jacket.”

You had to look around the room to find the jacket and, when you located it, it still took you a few minutes to get the glittering wrapper out. Biting your lip as you made your way back to Jungkook – sprawled almost helplessly on your bed – you couldn’t help yourself.

“Do you always carry condoms around in the pocket of your—”

“No,” he replied, obviously not very interested in discussing his condom-bearing habits when you were unwrapping the packaging with your teeth after your fingers weren’t enough.

“Ah, so today was a special occasion?” you asked, smiling teasingly because your heart wasn’t really in this conversation, either – you could analyze why he’d brought the condoms with him later.

Unrolling some of the latex in your hands, your fingers finally touched his length as you pinched the tip of the condom and rolled it down his shaft. Jungkook exhaled with a low grunt, not particularly enjoying himself in a position this vulnerable – he didn’t think the simple act of putting a condom on had ever aroused him this much before – but not being able to do anything about it because this was you.

And if you wanted to take your time with the condom – since you seemed to double-check to make sure if it was really properly on; he thought you were just teasing him, really – then, he was going to let you take your time.

For the first twenty seconds, anyway.

Just as you raised your eyes to meet his, Jungkook sat up and pulled you closer to him, only lying back down on the bed when he made sure his arms were wrapped around your body, which was pressed against his as tightly as he could manage without breaking any of your ribs with his arms.

“If I wait any longer,” he whispered, his mouth so close to yours, you could almost taste him as he spoke, “I’m really going to pass out.”

“Well,” you said, your heart beating wildly behind your ribcage and echoing against his chest, “then don’t wait.”

“Fuck,” was the last word that left his mouth before he connected your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss and sat up a bit to reach his length with his hand and position himself at your entrance. “Tell me if you want me to stop.

“Mmhmm—oh,” your hum of approval was quick to turn into a shaky gasp as his length slid inside of you, stretching you out far more than his fingers had before.

He watched your facial expression the whole time, entering you slowly, inch by inch, so he could stop if he noticed any pain. Mercifully, the only thing he noticed in your eyes was a silent plea to keep going – well, that, and the fact that you did most of the job for him by lowering yourself on him until he was fully inside of you – and Jungkook was sure of it: he was most certainly going to lose it.

“I’m not going to last long,” he warned breathlessly, “you’re s-so tight—you feel so good—I—”

His grip on you had loosened, which allowed you to place one hand on his chest and push him into the bed, until his head landed back on the pillow. As soon as he bottomed out inside of you, he stopped and you closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing for a second, before you looked up at him again and lifted your hips.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook whispered, his hands clutching your hips so tightly, he was probably going to leave imprints there.

Lowering yourself on him again, you sighed deeply, unsure what brought you more pleasure – the sight of his starved gaze and swollen lips as he allowed you to set the pace, or the feeling of his length, caressing your inner walls and reaching places so deep inside of you, you could have used a warning.

“Y-you’re so—mm, good,” you mewled, your hips rising and falling on top of him as you tried to get used to the feeling but failed, your walls clenching around him each time you moved.

“Baby,” Jungkook said and it was almost a whine, “I need you to go faster. Can you do that for me?”

“Hmm,” you weren’t sure what he was saying.

Your senses were malfunctioning as you lost yourself in the feeling, so, instead of going faster, you lowered yourself until you could feel your walls hug his entire length. You stayed still for a moment, but hearing him sigh in desperation, you finally started to move again – grinding your hips against his quicker.

“O-oh,” the sudden change of pace took him off guard as Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut. The feeling of your warmth wrapped so tightly around him was pure bliss. “That’s good. Y-you’re doing so good.”

You continued to move on top of him, grinding your hips in large and smaller figure-eights, as Jungkook slid his hands up and down your sides, feeling your silky skin and gently kneading your breasts. He brought his fingertips over your sensitive nipples and, noticing how your breath got caught in your throat as soon as he did, he applied more pressure to his touch.

“Jungkook,” you said weakly and then completely lost your voice when he sat up – suddenly reaching even deeper inside of you, even though that probably shouldn’t have even been possible – and brought his tongue to your nipple, carefully toying with it at first, and then sucking harder later.

Your hips were still moving against his but you were losing your stamina, not at all helped by the fact that his smallest touch nearly tipped you over the edge.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you sighed and, somewhere in his own name, he heard the request for him to take over.

Fully immersed in the feeling of having you on top of him, Jungkook had no plans to change the position. He pulled away from your breasts, licking his lips, and then, finding a more fitting position on the bed, he locked both of your arms behind you by wrapped a hand around your waist and lifting his hips off the mattress.

He roughly thrust into you once – and then once more because he couldn’t stop himself – and then paused to gauge your reaction. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed, but your parted lips and the excited movement of your hips as they met his when he moved, was a clear indication that you didn’t mind the faster pace.

“Look at me,” he instructed, not moving until you did. “Good girl.”

Finally, he slammed his hips into yours again, this time not pausing for a single second, even though both of you were completely breathless already. His length drilled into you, rubbing your walls until the fire in your stomach started to spread and you involuntarily closed your eyes again, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“Jungkook—”

“What did I tell you, baby?” he asked, holding your hands behind your back with one of his arms, as he used his other hand to bring your face to his again. You opened your eyes. “That’s it. Are you close?”

“Hmm—I-I’m—” the next words didn’t come out when Jungkook straightened his posture and thrust into you with enough force to send you backwards until you were laying flat on your back again. “Fuck, I’m really close.”

His hips continued the relentless pace but he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep going, especially with the way you squeezed around him each time he re-entered your warmth. You could already feel your orgasm creeping in as you bit your lip and felt your vision go out of focus, the ceiling of your room spinning as the whole place seemed to shake from the force of his hips.

“Don’t look away,” Jungkook spoke, breathing heavily and setting himself up for failure because he nearly collapsed as soon as you returned your eyes to his – all dark and clouded with near-euphoric delight. “I want you to look at me when you come, yeah? Will you do that for me, baby—please?”

“Y-yes—” you managed, barely getting the word out before you felt Jungkook readjust his weight by leaning on one arm and lowering his other one to your core.

He brought his thumb over your clit and, matching the speed of his hips thrusting in and out of you, he began to rub circles on your already over-stimulated center.

“Jungkook!” you weren’t sure if you were screaming, your heartbeat was too loud in your ears as you felt yourself tip over the edge. “Oh, fuck, fuck—right there!”

“Y-yeah? Does that feel good, baby?,” he groaned, “I can’t hold out for much longer, so I’m going to need you to come for me. Hmm?”

“I’m—please, fuck—” your pleas turned into an incomprehensible mess when Jungkook applied more pressure to your clit, flicking it before rubbing it in circles again, and you were completely done for.

Throwing your head back against the mattress and lifting your hips to meet his, you reached your high and Jungkook – cursing and trying his hardest not to lose his balance – bit his lip because he knew he was going to follow right after you.

His hips had slowed, although only a little, as he continued the assault on your senses by thrusting his throbbing member into you and simultaneously rubbing your clit all through your orgasm.

Your warm walls that hugged his length tightened around him when you came and, groaning loudly, he felt his own climax take over him. He stopped moving with one final thrust into you, loud grunts mixed with your name leaving his lips as he released himself into the condom.

Breathing heavily but still not getting enough oxygen, you both stayed still as you tried to recover.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook exhaled when he regained some control of his body. His eyes met yours and he did not hesitate before adding, “I love you. I’ve loved you for so fucking long.”

You allowed a heavy moment of silence to pass as you watched him. Then, you propped yourself up on your elbows and brought your lips to his. The kiss may have been less enthusiastic than the one in the hallway earlier tonight, but it still didn’t lack any heat.

“I love you,” you replied, the words as pointless as they were necessary, because your feelings for each other had been obvious from the very beginning, but neither of you confronted them. “I’ve loved you for much longer.”

“No,” he disagreed, kissing you again as he pulled out of you and rolled off to the edge of the bed so he could discard of the condom. Turning to look at you one more time before standing up, he said, very matter-of-fact, “I’ve loved you my whole life. Through every happy moment and every fuck-up, and every—”

With your lips stretching into a smile, you warned, “don’t try to one-up me with your pillowtalk.”

He already had his back turned to you as he walked towards the bin in the corner of your room, but you heard him laugh. When he turned around to return to you, there was a wide smile on his bright, red lips, still wet and swollen from kissing you.

“That’s not pillowtalk,” he countered, laying down next to you and draping an arm over your waist as he nuzzled his face into your neck with a delighted hum, “that’s just me telling you what I was supposed to tell you on the day I talked to you at my party.”

“I’m glad you told me now,” you replied, lifting one of your hands to touch his disheveled hair and the few stray curls that were stuck to his sweaty forehead, “even if you did cause a scene today.”

The softness of your touch was almost the exact opposite of the hidden razor-sharp meaning behind your words. Jungkook – who’d closed his eyes so he could breathe you in – suddenly lifted himself up on his elbows and gave you an inquiring look.

“I did not cause a scene,” he said, not in a very defensive manner because he did not think he needed to defend himself, “I was peacefully waiting for you to come back home. You caused a scene when you saw me.”

“I—oh, wow,” you scoffed in surprise, “you really are an expert at blame-shifting.”

He would have protested – and he was going to – but laying here next to you, with not a single piece of clothing preventing him from feeling the softness of your skin, he just shrugged. There were far more important things to focus on, he decided as he traced indiscernible patterns on your navel.

“Don’t do that again, though, okay?” you asked him then.

Smiling – because he was proud of his title as the resident Little Shit – Jungkook replied, “which part, exactly?”

The feeling of his fingertips dancing on your stomach was distracting, but you persevered for the greater good.

“Don’t change all of your plans if I spend time with someone else,” you said, swallowing. “Don’t put yourself in danger.”

“I won’t.”

His promise was brief but he leaned down to kiss you to seal it, and the feeling of his lips against yours had more impact than just his words alone. Then, pulling away a moment too soon, Jungkook surprised you with a warning look in his eyes.

“But don’t ask me not to kiss you in public,” he said. “Don’t ask me not to hold your hand. Don’t—”

You blinked, not following him. “W-wait, why? I wasn’t going to ask.”

“No, but you already did. At the last party we went to?” he said and then tried to jog your memory by adding, in a vexed tone, “when you were talking to Brock, and I—”

The party – and the long, long conversation that followed – returned to your mind even before the mention of Brock. You were just trying to understand why Jungkook was thinking about all of that now.

“Well, that’s because you were being a possessive dipshit,” you told him as an explanation, not an excuse.

You weren’t apologizing for standing up for yourself when you felt like your dignity was threatened, and he didn’t need you to. What he needed, was for you to understand that:

“I still am a possessive dipshit,” he said with the most unapologetic grin you’d ever seen adorning his features.

“Oh, yeah?” you raised your eyebrows, the mock-surprise completing your sarcastic look, “would not have guessed.”

“Funny,” he leaned down to kiss you again before making it clear, “I can’t stop myself from wanting everyone to know—”

“But they do know,” you said, cutting him off but not sharply, “everyone knows, Jungkook. You’ve made your point.”

“No, people still have doubts about us,” he said, “they’re still not fully convinced that you’re—that we’re together,” he paused, flashing back to the night at the party and remembering the words you’d said to him then, “but they don’t matter. It’s not about them. It’s about us. And I don’t want to imply that I own you or that you’re an object—or anything of the sort. I know you’re a person. You’re a great person. And you belong to yourself. You’re yours. B-but can you be a little bit mine, too?”

“I am,” you said and, even though you may not have always liked it, this was the truth. There was no way around it. So, pressing a soft kiss to his waiting lips, you admitted, “I’ve always been yours as much as I’ve been mine.”

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potteresque-ire · 4 years ago

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Concerning the incredibly far and deep reach of CCP’s propaganda, the narratives the government can spin and call the truth; does ‘the common normal populace’ actually know what’s really going on?

Hello everyone!!! Happy Chinese New Year!!

I’m grouping these asks because if I hear them correctly, they’re all related to this question: how much do people in China know about the atrocities committed by their government, and why don’t they do something about it?

It’s a difficult question, isn’t it? A potentially upsetting one too, just to think about. My answers are more opinion-based, more personal this time. Since there’re no polls about what people know, they have to be based a little more on my own impression, which has more chances of error. Please bear with me and proceed with caution ...

As with people in most countries, what people know is hugely dependent on individuals. Specifically, re: politics, I can think of at least three reasons why people don’t have the facts

1) they have limited access to information 2) they’re being lied to about what they know 3) they’re not interested in current affairs.

1), of course, is what most people think about when it comes to China. You’re right, Anon(s), that VPN use is indeed rampant in the country and is essentially an open secret; there’re no official numbers but surveys have estimated the number of users can be up to 100 million, most of them being youngsters. They use it to do exactly what most of us would imagine: gain access to things they don’t have otherwise. Instagram has been (sporadically?) blocked since 2014 September and so while users may have set up their accounts while being overseas, it’s indeed, (very) possible, that they’ve set up and maintained their account under VPN use.

Wait, you may ask, so you mean the Great Firewall of China doesn’t exist?

That’s exactly the official stance. Not because of private VPN use, but because individuals/companies can apply for a license via their telecommunications company to visit all internet sites. Hence, the government’s claim that the Great Firewall doesn’t exist—you’ll be let through as long as you ask (and we’ll watch your every step)! There are also no explicit laws prohibiting the use of private VPNs; only a handful of arrests associated with private VPN use have been made and only since 2019, and the punishment is considered light—no imprisonment, just fines. It is, in contrast, against the law to *provide* private VPN services, and while companies have been shut down, the crackdown has still been incredibly sluggish by Chinese government’s standards, especially when the Xi regime has made its intention of banning VPN known and directives have been issued for that in 2017.

Why has VPN continued to enjoy this “grey existence”? Because without VPN, a lot of foreign businesses would leave—some, for example, require the most efficient online tools developed outside China to track the foreign markets, and talents have rejected job offers in the country when they realised they couldn’t get on their favourite social media. The science and tech sectors also rely heavily on VPN—programmers relying on Google to search stackoverflow, for example, to find known solutions to bugs.

VPNs have also served political purposes—Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Chinese Communist Party (CCP)-critical communities all over the world are all painfully aware of the Chinese government’s practice of hiring its own collection of internet commentators (”50 Cent Party”), and at times, mobilising their youths (gamers, fan circles) to scale the Firewall and astroturf, throw insults at the “CCP enemies” and bomb message boards with pro-CCP messages.

Also, a significant fraction of VPN companies, both in China and overseas, have been reported to have Chinese ownership, by companies with government connections. These VPN services provide a false sense of security for those who do not enjoy having big brother peeking behind their backs while acting as surveillance tools that extend beyond the country.

(Please be careful about free VPNs).

The next question: If until now, users of private VPNs only rarely get into trouble, what’s holding them from scaling the Great Firewall and learning the facts?

It is this: the law isn’t about “climbing the wall”, but what one does outside the wall.

Article 6 of the 2016 edition of Cybersecurity law states the following:

第六条　国家倡导诚实守信、健康文明的网络行为，推动传播社会主义核心价值观，采取措施提高全社会的网络安全意识和水平，形成全社会共同参与促进网络安全的良好环境

Article 6: The State advocates sincere, honest, healthy and civilized network conduct; promoting dissemination of the core socialist values, adopting measures to raise the entire society's awareness and level of network security, and forming a good environment for the entire society to jointly participate in advancing network security.

What this article implies is this ~ legally, Chinese citizens are bound to the Chinese government’s rules of good internet conduct, regardless of whether they use VPN to get on the internet. As with many Chinese laws, however, the vagueness in wording invites more questions than answers. Is it getting on Twitter, a banned website, “sincere, honest, healthy and civilized network conduct”? Obviously, it’s illegal to interact with other users about the Xinjiang’s internment camps, but what if one only goes there to talk about their favourite stars, because on Weibo supertopic they can’t even mention the stars’ name, can’t ahkgkhagjkfaskjgdf about their favourite fics? What if one goes there to discuss a M- or E-rated fic? Where is the line drawn and given its vagueness, will that line move tomorrow? How?

Most people, therefore, have opted to simply stay away from VPN. After all, China offers its own version of many of the fun websites out there (Weibo-Twitter; Instagram-Oasis; Tiktok-Douyin; Youtube-Bilibili). For those who do use VPN, they tend to stick to websites that are unlikely to cause issues (such as Instagram; Instagram became an issue when Hong Kongers started to upload information about the protests on there).

Now, let’s proceed to 2): People don’t know the facts because they’re being lied to about what they know.

There’s a difference between having access to facts and knowing that they’re facts. This is among the most painful lessons, perhaps, for those who followed the politics of the United States in the last few years (please forgive me for the US-centric-ness of the following few paragraphs!). Even with equal access to identical information, people can vary a LOT in their understanding of what are facts and what are lies.

This illustrates the power of propaganda—and propaganda in the US isn’t even centralised. Some media outlets and individuals (political leaders and analysts) have more say on what should be viewed as the truth, but parties without significant power—small foreign and domestic interests, fringe political organisations, conspiracy theorists, regular folks—have also made critical contributions to the “fake news” phenomenon in the US. There haven’t been apparent coordinations between these parties; little concerted effort has been made to create one coherent story out of the many tales told.

In China, the propaganda effort is centralised, coordinated, free of distractions from competing story lines. The One Story the government decides on is repeated, over and over again, on newspapers, in shows, in textbooks, on signs on the streets, on social media. To put it another way, when it comes to political discourse, the country is designed to be an echo chamber with 1.4 billion people. Over time, the One Stories inevitably become firmly held beliefs—so firmly held that even if the people are exposed to facts, they no longer believe in them.

This is especially true when the source of the facts are countries with strong traditions of freedoms of speech and press, where the facts are often laid out with a critical eye to the administration and with vastly different opinions attached to them. While we view the latter as evidences that the values we embrace are alive and well—a critical eye to the administration means the Fourth Estate is doing its job, and the different opinions means freedom of speech gets to live another day—people who haven’t been exposed to these values tend to interpret these things as signs of weakness of the government. They may think the Chinese government is better than its counterparts elsewhere because no one is penning scathing criticisms against it. They may think the Chinese government is stronger because it unifies the opinions of their people—the failure of which, they’ve been taught, would lead to social chaos and economic free-fall.

The Chinese population has also been “immunised” against the truths that may be exposed about their government by a propaganda talking point used since Chairman Mao’s days—that the “Imperialist” western world, particularly the United States, is always scheming its downfall. The phrase often used is 美帝亡我之心不死 (”The heart (intention) of Imperialist US to bring us down will never die”). Unfavourable truths exposed must therefore be part of the “bring down China” scheme. This decades-old demonisation of the political apparatus of the US and Europe also prepares the people to accept what most would see as outrageous conspiracy theories: for example, in March 2020, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs claimed that the US Army intentionally planted COVID in Wuhan during the 2019 Military World games. “Foreign interference” becomes a frequent and convenient scapegoat for policy decisions gone wrong, sometimes to a (somewhat) hilarious effect ~ for example, a Taiwanese journalist calculated the cost required for the CIA to fund the 2019 Hong Kong Protests, as the Chinese government had claimed—and it turned out that the CIA was too poor to do it.

(Many of us in the US would probably laugh at the idea that our government is capable of secretly paying 2 million foreign-language speaking strangers to show up together in one march.) (It can’t even get the COVID relief payments to its own people right over a period of months.)

(Fun trivia for turtles! As 美帝=“Imperialist US” is the synonym of a feared, imaginary super-villain—super organised, super efficient, super everywhere and super impossible to take down—c-BJYX, the indestructible No. 1 CP fandom in China, has been nicknamed “美帝 cp” by those not so enamoured with it.)

Finally, there’s the psychological factor. Once a set of beliefs becomes personal truths, listening to alternatives can be very upsetting (for those in the US: imagine the blue voting block made to listen to Fox News). Hence, even when people gain access to the facts later—for example, when they study/work abroad, even emigrate—they often don’t take advantage of the access. Instead, they remain logged in in the Chinese social media sites where they’re comfortable with not only the politics but also the language and the friendships they’ve built, and continue to immerse themselves in an environment heavy with CCP propaganda. They remain defenders of the Chinese government; some have even gone out and harass people who disagree with it, in the name of freedom of speech that their country of origin never offered to them.

Censorship, of course, is an important component of building a One Story echo chamber, and I should add a note about it: censorship in China comes in vastly different strengths. The restrictions on LGBT+ issues, for example, are fairly lax, relatively speaking—“homosexuality” remains a term one can find on their internet and a topic the administration continues to address, and while BL dramas are censored, their adapted versions, along with highly publicised discussions of their original material, have so far been tolerated. The strictest form of Chinese censorship would’ve allowed neither: any mention of the 1989 June 4th Tiananmen Square massacre , for example, is immediately removed, including any hints that the event may have happened. When the former leader of the Chinese government, Jiang Zemin (江澤民), was rumoured to have passed away, the censorship apparatus went so far as to remove all mentions of Jiang, which also happened to mean “large rivers”. Chinese netizens therefore joked that major rivers had ceased to exist in China that day, as one couldn’t find any information about them online.

(LGBT+ activists have therefore remained optimistic about the future of their campaign, despite the current state of affairs. To put it simply: the Chinese government has bigger fish to fry. Sexual minorities haven’t had major clashes with the administration, haven’t embarrassed the Chinese government with their demand for rights as the ethnic minorities—the Uyghurs, the Tibetans, the Mongolians etc did. Political dissidents, including the millions in Hong Kong, are also (far) ahead in the ranking of fish size.)

For most issues, the censorship effort sits somewhere in the middle and is often inconsistent over time. The people, therefore, often have knowledge that an event has happened — even when the event is considered, beyond the Great Firewall, damaging to the reputation of the Chinese government. However, critical information is often missing in their knowledge, or is heavily distorted. For example, overseas Chinese citizens have insisted that the motivation of the 2019 Hong Kong Protests was economic, echoing the longstanding CCP propaganda that Hong Kongers have been jealous of China’s prosperity (reality: China’s GDP per capita was $10,268 USD in 2019, and Hong Kong’s, $48,713—more than 4 times higher). They missed out a critical fact: while the fast economic growth of China has created some unease—Hong Kongers have always known the Chinese government has only tolerated them and their freedoms for their ability to generate wealth—what has truly ignited Hong Kong’s anger is the Chinese government’s violation of the 1984 Sino-British Joint Declaration, and the terms it had agreed upon to get back the then British crown colony. Hong Kong hasn’t been demanding autonomy and freedoms because it’s a troublemaker, but because these things were promised to the city as conditions of the 1997 handover. As residents of the world’s third largest financial centre, Hong Kongers are diligent drafters and executioners of contracts (which international treaties are) and above all, faithful believers of them. For an asker (the Chinese government) to claim a contract as “historical” because it has received the goods (Hong Kong) and no longer feels a need to pay (allow Hong Kong 50 years of freedoms and autonomy) is offensive to the principle, the very heart and soul of the city.

(Gg’s former boss was a Hong Konger, and his experience working for him was a rather accurate reflection of Hong Kong’s view on business. What made an impression to Gg—that the posters should be without rips and misprints, even if these imperfections were not the fault of the design company—is a no-brainer to the Hong Konger in me reading the interview. Delivering high quality goods and services isn’t an act of kindness but rather, of professionalism and respect for the contract.)

(This interview is a highly recommended read, for those who’ve missed it!)

(One more example of “conveniently missed critical information”: remember GG’s show on Chongqing? Did you know the underground bombing shelters were not built by the Communist government, but the Nationalist government that was still ruling China during WWII?)

Anyway, where was I?

Right. We’re getting to 3): People are not getting the facts on the political situation in China because they’re not interested in current affairs.

Some—well, many— people are not interested in politics.

Some of you may be thinking: well, I’m not interested either. I follow politics because it’s important.

Why is it important? Because political engagement means you can do something about the many ills of the society, speak for those who cannot, force the government to change by voting, by voicing your opinion, by going to marches and protests etc.

What if you follow politics and still can’t do most of these things? What if, if you do choose to do these things, the price you pay may be astronomical? Will you still follow politics or devote your time, your energy to something else, something you’ve got more control over, something that won’t be as saddening, frustrating because it’s something you can actually change?

3) is therefore intricately related to why people often don’t do anything, even if they manage to find out about the facts.

There’re no national elections in China. Marches and protests are practically banned because while the Chinese Constitution guarantees the freedom of assembly (as it does freedom of speech and press; Article 35), it also explicitly states that "Citizens of the People’s Republic of China, in exercising their freedoms and rights, may not infringe upon the interests of the State, of society or of the collective, or upon the lawful freedoms and rights of other citizens.” (Article 51) — ie. the freedoms and rights only go as far as if they do not stand in the government’s way. Social media and all communications platforms are under constant surveillance, and so only opinions tolerated by the government is allowed...

And so, the fact, social ill that has broken your heart—you can’t tell for sure if it isn’t talked about because the government has censored it, how many people know about it and more importantly, how many among the people who know about it will agree with your take. If you break your silence and voice your concerns, how many people will have your back, even if you also conceive them as victims of the social ill? If the social ill is the lack of rights of a minority group, for example, will they appreciate your speaking out, or will your “rocking-the-boat” make things even worse for them? A heavily watched net means communications with the oppressed/vulnerable social groups are often filled with obstacles, if not outright impossible. You don’t know how these groups feel; you don’t even know how many affected individuals are there. You watch the and news and shows and they all talk about how wonderfully things are going; how everyone seems so hopeful and positive and happy with their lives—are you the only person feeling that way? Are you wrong? If you speak out then, will you be yelling into the void, or worse, yelling at the police who “invites” you for a chat in the police station? To speak for those who do not have a voice to speak, are you ready, willing to take the risk of also becoming one who no longer has a voice to speak? Is your family ready?

To put it another way: the opportunity cost of “doing something” about the political situation can be astronomically high in China, compared to the opportunity cost of us doing something similar in our own country.

If I want to support the LGBT+ population in my part of the US, for example, I can do so effectively with minimal investment and most importantly, with minimal risk. By pasting a rainbow flag on this Tumblr post, for example, I’ve already signalled to those who need support on this issue that I’m ready to give mine. And this “signal” of mine will join the hundreds and thousands on the site, collectively telling the activists doing the “on the ground” fighting that they’re not alone; that they have my vote of support. I pose no danger to myself in doing so; no one will accuse me of, arrest me for infringing upon the interests of the State and the Collective. The rainbow flag, a display of my stance, will not turn into a blurred blob the next time I look at it, transform overnight from a symbol of solidarity to a warning sign to those who may wish to join the cause. There’s no danger for me, even, to carry an actual, huge rainbow flag to Pride, perform my activism in person. I don’t have to worry about my phone already giving away my identity as a protester to the government, especially in post-COVID times. I don’t need to watch out for plain clothes pretending to be my allies. I don’t have to look at the many surveillance cameras present and wonder if I’ll get blacklisted as a troublemaker.

Am I still being tracked and taken pictures of? Possibly. But for this cause, at least, I’m not afraid that these information will be used to arrest me. If I were arrested, I know there'll be lawyers and activists who would come to my aid. LOUDLY. ANGRILY.

I’m not afraid. Period. I’m having fun. And I doubt I can say the same if I try to carry a rainbow flag to Tiananmen square and march there.

This vast difference in the opportunity cost of taking political action is the reason why I’ve refrained from demanding those who live under authoritarian dictatorships to stand up for their neighbours who’ve been oppressed / bullied by their governments. I’ve refrained from criticising them for looking away, minding their own business. Do I wish they’ve take action? Of course I do. Am I aware that their lack of action is potentially more harmful because of the frequent atrocities happening around them? Yes. But I also understand that going on a fight is far more frightening when one doesn’t even have a sense of how many will join their side of the fight; I understand that fighting for what one deserves—freedoms, rights, justice—should never equal martyrdom, and just because a regime has elected to put equal signs between the two doesn’t mean those equal signs should ever be there. I remind myself that, to ask the people in any authoritarian dictatorship to stand up for a political cause is to ask them to make sacrifices that we, as people in relatively free societies, do not need to make when standing up for the same cause. In a country where a father demanding the truth about the milk product poisoning of his own son got jail time for “eliciting social disorder”, to stand up for even a single issue, no matter how small that issue is, requires courage that I’m not sure I have.

I can’t ask anyone to do anything I may not be able to do myself.

And this is why I, too, have chosen to support these people, even if many of them are single-issue activists, even when many support the Chinese government on other issues that matter. For example, the late Dr Li Wenliang, one of the eight COVID whistleblowers in China who passed away from the disease, was an opponent of the Hong Kong Protest, but I still (greatly) appreciate, respect him for what he did. As long as they’re not actively helping the government to cause (more) harm to others, as long as their cooperation with their government falls within what is demanded of them as citizens, they have my support. Why? Because most people who speak out in China cannot afford to stand up for more than one cause before it becomes dangerous for them. Because even if it’s only a tiny vulnerable social group, one small minority that makes a tiny step towards more rights, more freedoms, more justice, it’s still a victory in a country where rights, freedoms and justice are luxury items for those with neither political nor economic power. Because those who’re not part of the ruling class cannot afford to cherry pick their allies, cannot afford to in-fight when the ruling class already holds absolute power. Because I still believe in pay-it-forward, that most people who’ve benefited from someone standing up for them, even for one small incident, one minor cause, is more likely to stand up for someone else.

This is, admittedly, not always an easy choice to make—not for me, at least. I do get frustrated, can’t help but think at times that those who subscribe to and spread propaganda are, to a certain extent, corroborators of the atrocities committed by their government. (So, to those who’ve felt this frustration, you’re not alone!). And the Hong Konger in me has every reason to be furious with everything about China right now—all I could think of, when I listened to Gg singing 異鄉人 Foreigner the other night, are all the Hong Kongers fleeing the city now, as refugees, because of their political beliefs.

But for now, I’m hanging on. I’ve been able to tell myself that given the country’s political reality, given its tradition of collectivism (which tends to view confrontational dissent with scorn), the paths to freedoms, to equal rights and acceptance, will not be the same as what I’ve seen, what I’ve wished for. They’ll likely be slow; They’ll likely be long and winding, taking three steps forward and two steps back; they’d likely be unexpected in places, offer us surprises —

And since it’s Chinese New Year / Valentines and I’m feeling brave (irresponsible?), I’d venture a little bit of speculation and say this ~ yes, I’ve wondered if one of these many paths may be trodden, intentionally or not, by two beautiful male idols and their millions of turtles. Is it wishful, fantastical thinking? I’d be the first to admit the answer is yes. But the BJYX scheme has been so well executed as of now, so effective that I can’t help but wonder if it’s leading towards some sort of a goal, whether devised by the humans involved or by the gods/Fates who, as c-turtles have said so romantically, have been writing an original BL story with our favourite boys. The goal may be personal —simply two people being able to act more like themselves again under the spotlight—or a bit more ambitious…

… Because the sneakers + ice-cream post did catch my attention (will probably have to devote a post on that?). Another small incident that has caught my attention, unrelated to Gg and Dd but can significantly change the path they may be trodding, is this — in June 2020, People’s Daily, the state controlled newspaper, boasted its country’s increasing friendliness towards the LGBT+ communities on Twitter . While the tweet was met with skepticism and soon removed, the message it sent is this: the Chinese government may have figured out the the Western world (in particular, the younger generations) view LGBT+ rights as a measure of progressiveness. While I’m still leaning towards the government maintaining a tight grip on LGBT+ rights within its borders, with the strengthening call to boycott 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics because of the country’s poor human rights record, I can see a glimmer of possibility that the same government may do the unexpected and cater to the queer community for the sake of propaganda. As I mentioned, the queer community hasn’t caused much headache for the Chinese government, and so it’s far more likely to be chosen as the “benefactors” of such a “we’re a human rights champion too!” propaganda campaign than, say, ethnic minorities and political dissidents. Promoting dissemination of core socialist values has always sat high on the CCP’s agenda list, and its target audience has always included foreign, non-Chinese populations; this effort is known as 大外宣—“The Great External Propaganda”. And who better to cast as leads of an international propaganda campaign on LGBT+ rights than two of its own stars who’ve already demonstrated loyalty to the government, who’ve already garnered international fame from a TV series widely viewed as queer, and who may actually be queer?

(And if—if!!!— this ever happens, may I ask everyone to please consider doing the following? Please do not feel a need to express gratitude. Please do not act as though it’s a gift. Celebrate as you would celebrate anyone in a free country exercising their birthright to live, to love the way they want — no less than that, no more than that.)

(For those who’ve asked ~ as international fans, not allowing the CCP to modify our expectations of how a government should behave may be one of the most effective ways to protect Gg and Dd.)

(I call this learning from the best: get the goods we want (more rights for the people in China), refuse to pay the cost (subscribe to CCP’s propaganda), and RUN! ❤️💛💚)

#pie metas #yizhan #bjyx #pie answers

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samwisethewitch · 5 years ago

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Curses and Hexes

Cursing is one of the most ancient forms of magic — and one of the most controversial. Whereas most magic is constructive (used to manifest or attract things), cursing is destructive (used to cause misfortune or harm).

Technically speaking, curses and hexes are similar but different types of spells. A curse consists of written or spoken words, sometimes combined with gestures. A hex is a ritual involving material items. However, most modern witches use the terms interchangeably, as I do in this post.

The fastest way to start a debate in any witchy community is to bring up the topic of cursing. It seems like everyone has strong opinions on the subject, either for or against. For your practice, all that matters is what you believe.

So, When Is It Okay to Curse Someone?

This is a tricky question, and the answer depends on the witch.

There are some witches who believe that intentionally causing harm or misfortune to another person is always wrong, and will never cast curses for this reason. This is an entirely valid position! If you fall into this camp, know that you’re in good company.

Other witches believe that cursing is acceptable when it’s truly warranted by the situation, such as when your life or livelihood is in danger. Others believe that cursing is simply a means to an end, and can be done with good intention (cursing your friend’s unfaithful partner to get them to stop cheating, for example).

The one thing that most witches seem to agree on is that curses are serious stuff, and should not be taken lightly. Unlike other types of magic, curses are fueled by negative emotions like hate, anger, and heartbreak. This makes them very powerful, but also very draining for the witch casting them. Cursing someone means reliving any trauma you suffered at their hands in order to use those memories as fuel for the fire. Some people aren’t willing to put themselves through such an ordeal, which again, is entirely fair.

Because curses are fueled by such strong emotions, they’re powerful and volatile. They’re like the nitro fuel of witchcraft — if you don’t know what you’re doing and aren’t careful, someone could get seriously hurt. That someone could be you.

My personal view on cursing is essentially the same as my view on physical violence. It’s not the answer to all, or even most, problems, and it sometimes makes the situation worse instead of better. It should never be your first option, but it might very well be your last resort. If someone is holding you at gunpoint, you’re entitled to use violence to protect yourself. Likewise, if someone is putting you or a loved-one in life-threatening danger, you’re entitled to use whatever magical means necessary for protection.

Before You Curse

If you think there’s someone in your life who deserves to be cursed, go through the following criteria to decide if cursing is really the most appropriate action.

Sleep on it. When we’re in the heat of the moment, we sometimes say or do things we don’t mean. If you think you’re angry enough with someone to curse them, give it a couple of days before you reach for the vinegar and chili peppers. Give yourself time to cool off and clear your head. If, after a week, you still feel like a curse is warranted, move on to the next step.

Think about your own motives. Why do you want to curse this person? What did they do to make you angry enough that you’re willing to use magic to harm them in some way? If it’s a minor annoyance, like cutting you off in traffic, a curse probably isn’t appropriate. Likewise, if your motivations are petty or catty in nature — like cursing someone because they beat you out for a promotion — I highly encourage you to stop and do some self-reflection. For one thing, you may not be able to conjure enough genuine hatred and anger for an effective curse. For another, in these situations you may find it more helpful to do some work on yourself (working on anger issues, learning to gracefully accept failure, etc.) rather than lashing out at someone else.

Ask yourself if this situation matters in the long run. It may feel incredibly important now, but try to take a step back and look at the big picture. Will this person matter in a year? Five years? Ten? Are they important enough to warrant allowing yourself to channel enough negative energy for a curse? (If this person is putting your life, livelihood, or safety at risk, the answer to all of these questions is YES!)

Make sure your anger is directed at the right person. Who is really responsible for the pain you’re feeling? For example, if your significant other cheats on you, your first reaction may be to curse the person who “stole” them from you. But you aren’t really upset with this person — you’re hurt because your partner betrayed your trust. I’m not convinced that a cheating partner is a serious enough reason to cast a curse (again, will it really matter in ten years?) but if you decide to do so, at least make sure it’s directed at the person who is truly responsible for your pain.

Consider doing a banishing instead. In situations where a person is a danger to you or your loved ones, sometimes the best option is to give them a magical push out of your life. A banishing does what the name implies — it banishes a person or thing from your life. Unlike a curse, a banishing does not cause harm or misfortune to the person being targeted. It simply removes them from your life.

You can perform a simple yet effective banishing with a piece of paper, a pen, cayenne pepper, and dried lavender. Write the name of the person or thing you want to banish on the paper. Look down at the name and say, out loud, “[Name], you are no longer welcome in my life.” Sprinkle a bit of cayenne on the paper and instruct it to burn this person out of your life. Sprinkle a bit of lavender on the paper and instruct it to bring you peace and healing. Fold the paper up to create a little packet around the herbs, then take it outside and burn it to ash. (Be careful — cayenne smoke burns!) As the paper burns say, “I banish [name] from my life, never to return.” Scatter the leftover ashes on a busy road.

Consider doing a binding instead. Maybe you don’t necessarily need someone out of your life, but you do need to take away their power to cause harm. In this case, a binding is your best bet. A binding is a spell that “binds up” someone’s power, preventing them from taking certain actions. This can be useful for dealing with people who are toxic or abusive. Like a banishing, binding does not cause harm or misfortune to the target.

You can perform a simple binding charm with a photograph of your target, a pen, and red or black thread. Write your target’s full name (or as much of it as you know) across the bottom of the photo. Look down at the photo. Say, out loud, “[Name], I bind you. I bind up your power, so that you can no longer ______.” Fold the paper up as small as possible. Then, begin to wrap the thread around the folded paper. As you do, say, “[Name], I bind you.” Continue wrapping until the thread completely covers the paper — there should be no paper visible.

For whatever reason, some people seem to have a natural resistance to banishing and binding. You may find that your spell works for a while, but the person you tried to banish/bind eventually returns to their old ways. There’s some debate about why this happens — some say it’s because these people are narcissists or energy vampires, while others think it has something to do with their force of will. Personally, I think it’s because some people are so nasty and hateful that it takes nasty, hateful magic to get rid of them for good. If you find yourself dealing with one of these people, and your banishings and bindings aren’t sticking, you may want to move on to a full-fledged curse.

Creating an Effective Curse

Okay, you’ve done your self-reflection, you’ve considered or attempted a banishing and/or binding, and you still feel like cursing is your best/only option. In that case, here are some general guidelines for making sure that your curse is appropriate, effective, and ethical.

Be VERY specific. Don’t just lob a ball of negative energy at someone and expect it to do what you want. Be very, very clear about your intent for this curse. Use precise and specific language. Make it painfully obvious what you want to happen and how you want it to unfold.

For example, when writing a petition or incantation, don’t just say, “[Name] is cursed.” Instead use something like, “Should [Name] ever contact or harass me again, he/she/they is cursed. Let him/her/them feel what I have felt and suffer as I have suffered.” You could get even more specific and detailed if you wanted to, but the important thing is to establish some basic parameters for the powerful dark energy you’re unleashing.

Make sure the punishment fits the crime. A curse to cause sexual impotence probably isn’t appropriate for an abusive boss… unless that boss is sexually harassing their employees. In that case, sticking a few pins in a rotting cucumber may be just what the situation calls for. (Yes, that’s a real curse. Yes, the cucumber represents what you think it represents.)

Making sure the punishment fits the crime also means being honest about how serious of a curse is deserved. Do you really need to ruin this person’s life to get them out of your hair, or will a mild inconvenience do? As strange as the idea of a curse being fair sounds, avoiding overkill will not only maintain balance but will keep you from expending more energy than you have to.

Make sure your curse is only affecting your target and not anyone around them. When it comes to curses, family, friends, and coworkers can sometimes get caught in the crossfire. To avoid this, make sure your spell is targeted to a specific person by personalizing it as much as possible. Include photos of your target, their full legal name (or as much of their full name as you know), and a taglock if you can get it. You may even want to include a line in your petition or incantation specifying that this curse will only affect the desired target and not their friends and associates.

Set clear conditions/parameters. The most effective curses are situational. Think of it as laying an energetic trap in or around a certain situation — this is more efficient and uses up less of your energy than if you were to just cast a blanket curse that affects every area of the target’s life. Curse parameters take the form of, “If [name] does x, they will be met with y.”

Setting parameters also makes sure your curse is truly deserved. For example, maybe your friend has an abusive ex-spouse, and you want to use a curse to keep your friend safe. If the ex-spouse is already leaving your friend alone, there’s no reason for a curse. But if they aren’t leaving your friend alone, they deserve to be met with vicious, magical resistance. For this situation, you may want to use an incantation like, “Should [ex-spouse] ever approach or contact [your friend], they are cursed with discomfort, unrest, and legal trouble. Let them be hunted and put down like a rabid dog.” This ensures that if, at any point in the future, the ex-spouse starts harassing your friend again, the curse will immediately go into action.

Don’t attach yourself to the curse. Perhaps the most important part of cursing is making sure you keep the energy of the curse separate from your own energy. Revenge is a double-edged sword, so you need to take precautions to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.

Any time you cast a curse, you want to limit its connection to you as much as possible. Don’t include any of your own personal effects in the spell. You may also want to avoid using tools that hold a special place in your practice. For example, you may not want to use your altar as a place to craft curses. You may want to use materials that can be disposed of easily. Make sure to dispose of curse remains somewhere outside your home, such as at a busy road.

After casting a curse, it’s important to set aside some time for self-care. Start with a thorough cleansing. This can be as simple as taking a bath in salt water (or dumping a bucket of salt water over your head in the shower, if you don’t have a tub), but if you would rather do a full-fledged cleansing ritual, even better! It’s important to do something to remove any lingering negativity from your energy field, and to make sure the curse doesn’t attach to you in any way.

Cursing is intense, emotional, draining work. After casting a curse, take at least a few hours to rest and be kind to yourself. Eat your favorite foods. Take a nap. Read a book or watch a movie. Do whatever you need to do to make yourself feel good.

You may want to do some inner work after cursing to help process the intense emotions involved in this kind of magic. This can be journaling, meditation, energy work, or some other healing modality. If you’ve experienced serious trauma, you may want to consider speaking to a therapist or counselor in addition to doing work on your own.

Resources:

Utterly Wicked by Dorothy Morrison

Of Blood and Bones by Kate Freuler

New World Witchery podcast, “Episode 102 — Evil”

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reflectionsofneptune · 5 years ago

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little thoughts about the personal, social and universal signs

― personal signs

the personal signs in astrology relate to the first four signs of the zodiac: aries, taurus, gemini and cancer. being the first sign of their respective element, it is safe to say that in these signs, one can see the most rawest expression of fire, earth, air and water. they can be quite selfish and childish, experiencing the world directly through their own judgements and analysis which they believe to be gospel. this subjectivity can cause them to have an often inner fragility which they cover up by exuding a sense of not caring for anything that doesn’t matter to them. but, this false sense of awareness they may portray can cause them to get riled up at any inquisitiveness about their very make up. tell an aries that they cannot do something and watch how quickly they achieve something, often times all by themselves. or, lightly comment to a taurus that their project will never amount to nothing, and years later, bump into them doing better off than you could have ever envisaged. question a Gemini’s viewpoint and see how fast they pull up their multiple references which leave you twiddling your thumbs. invalidate a cancer’s gut feelings and see how in the end, it is you with your feet in the mud as they wave from the sidelines.

their own point of view is considered first before anyone else, and so can cause them to be quite narrow-minded but also authentic in their expression. a cancer is often the go-to for emotional problems in a situation only because they themselves know the simmering undercurrents between a significant relationship can lead to a volatile explosion, effects long lasting. a taurus can be a reputable person to go to for advice on saving in life because they know that when they can’t control the events in the outside world, they can control the things accessible to them and work from there. if you need a pep-talk, one very straight to the point, an aries can deliver that as they know honesty in the best policy. with a gemini, they will be a great person to get you out of the house as they know that there are so many places to see, back roads to explore and conversations to be had in the world.

― social signs

the social signs in astrology relate to the signs in the middle of the zodiac which are leo, virgo, libra and scorpio. no longer are we just seeing the world through our own eyes, but another person’s POV is considered, too. with their relationships in life being the ‘vehicle’ in how they see the world, and their external reality being a reflection of their inner reality, they can better understand themselves through others. in leo, the self is acknowledged as a creative being and so wants to dive deep in these feelings of joy and playfulness by connecting with others. humility is the name of the game for virgo, where one’s efforts are analysed in relation to another’s efforts and adjustments are made accordingly. for libra, one discovers more about themselves by relating to another person’s experiences in life and holding space accordingly. in scorpio, the self undergoes great transformation which brings it closer to itself, and to another in the process.

for social signs, they really need to watch the company they keep. innate within them comes great pleasure when their loved ones are happy as they won’t hesitate to be there for them, but sometimes they don’t get that in return. they need to make sure their cup is filled before they give to others, because when they give, they give a hell of a lot. a leo needs to make sure that they don’t overdo it with the generosity towards others that it becomes something expected of them each time. the tendency to jump in and help people they care about for a virgo is common but discernment is needed to see holes in a ship as salvageable or not. in libra, letting bygones be bygones only works for so long before the scales remain glaring unbalanced. with scorpio, when they merge the self on more levels than one with another, they need to take note of what the other person is bringing to the table.

―the universal signs

the universal signs in astrology relate to the signs nearing the end of the zodiac, which are sagittarius, capricorn, aquarius and pisces. these signs relate the self in relation to the wider world and society. the narration is no longer ”I” or “You and I’’ but ‘’Us’’. they go through life, not experiencing it deeply on a personal level or though other people but though things happening in the collective. for them, their perspective on things is often on the greater picture of things. decisions are based upon what they deem to be philosophically and spiritually correct. for a capricorn, the self has a strong urge to succeed in society because they would like to leave a legacy behind. with sagittarius, the self relishes the freedom of just expressing their opinions and ideals, sometimes ‘larger than life’ and seeing how they fit in with society. for an aquarius, the self has a strong urge to be apart of a greater collective movement but still wants to stand out in their own unique fashion. for a pisces, the self has a strong urge to connect with the divine source in the world through the wide array of experiences we collectively go through; grief, joy, compassion, forgivenesses, healing, etc.

they represent the last quarter of the life journey of higher vision, pinnacles of growth, achievement in society and universal love. all the previous lessons of the signs before them in their element are acknowledged but with that, comes the responsibility which can bear a lot to handle. and so this is where the sense of detachment comes in as sometimes these signs need to isolate from others to reboot themselves. a sagittarius can seem very hard to pin down, in love, in work, in whatever, but perhaps this is because a reality free of boundaries is something that their very sense of self depends on. a capricorn can seem like a workaholic but maybe it’s because they have this sense of time running out and what they envisioned for their material world not coming to fruition. an aquarius may seem aloof, but perhaps this is because they know how much power intention, combined with the intention of others, manifests in change that is sure to ripple through though society and that is of the most importance right now. a pisces may seem unhinged, but perhaps it is because arguably, they are tasked with the karma of all the signs that went before, and transmuting all that energy is not a one day feat, but more, a life long one in a way.

#mine #astrology #zodiac signs #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #the personal signs #the social signs #the universal signs

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bigskydreaming · 4 years ago

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Hello, hello, tis I, your friendly neighborhood ‘dude who is obsessed with people making jokes and insults out of Dick’s name’ back with another episode of Why No But Seriously Why!

In today’s episode, we’re going to focus on the fanon of the swear jar. That thing ordained by Alfred that makes many an appearance in fics and headcanons....including ones that also show Jason and/or others calling Dick a Dickhead and other things all willy nilly and suchlike and forthwith.

How does this track, asketh I? Does Alfred provide exemption clauses for making fun of your brother, to the others? Does Alfred not consider making crude insults out of the name Dick to be a swear? Does Alfred, a born Brit, hailing from the land of the “We’ve Been Calling Richards ‘Dicks’ For Longer Than The Rest Of You Have Been Calling Them Rich’s,” not consider the fascination with making penis jokes out of the name of a child he’s helped raised from the age of EIGHT to be uncultured, crass and frankly unacceptable in any house he resides in?

I’m just saying, does it really make sense, and is the risk of pulling readers out of your story if they’re NOT amused by the jokes made of his name really worth whatever it is you feel is added to a story BY making the same old jokes about Dick’s name?

As I’ve said many times before....Dick Grayson? Fictional character. Has no feelings that actually need protecting....OUTSIDE of fiction. Making jokes about his name from beyond the fourth wall, just people commenting on a fictional character’s name? Go wild, go crazy, have a freaking Bacchanalia. Truly does not matter, if you ask me.

But IN universe? IN fiction? Totally different story, because look what those jokes require or make assumptions out of:

1) That Dick truly has no protective or defensive feelings whatsoever about his childhood nickname, and genuinely feels nothing about people habitually taking his choice to keep it as an invitation to insult or mock him.

1b) That Dick doesn’t in any way ever perceive peoples’ insistence on associating his name MORE with the insults and penis jokes than they do with it just being a name, to in any way be a slight against his beloved parents, of the “well they should have known better than to call him that” variety.

1c) That Dick has no negative feelings whatsoever about the fact that even his close friends and family regard his name as being no more worthy of respect or being ‘offlimits’ than the average Gothammite or public citizen might regard it, despite the fact that his close friends and family are perfectly aware of the public’s history of looking down on Dick for his origins and thus you’d think would WANT to appear different than them in Dick’s eyes.

1d) That Dick has never at any point expressed anger, frustration or bitterness that he can’t even have his name respected without even loved ones superimposing their own associations on top of it, no matter what it means to HIM.

2) That Alfred truly has no opinions whatsoever of the other charges in his care disrespecting Dick’s name and its origins stemming from his first parents.

2b) That Alfred has never expressed this opinion to any of them or made his displeasure about such jokes known.

2c) That Alfred doesn’t find it disappointing that the rest of the family and associated friends and allies seem disinclined to separate themselves from the general public’s opinions of Dick’s name by regarding it with a little more respect as at least a sign that they regard Dick himself with a little more respect than the general public.

3) That Jason or none of Dick’s other friends or family have never taken the initiative to wonder for themselves how Dick might actually feel about the frequent jokes or insults, and if shockingly, he might not actually be fond of them.

3b) That Jason or Dick’s other friends or family have chosen not to care or respect the opinions of Dick and/or Alfred or anyone else who states or suggests that these jokes or insults aren’t welcome.

4) That none of Dick’s other friends, be they Titans, or Uncle Clark, or siblings like Cass or Damian or frankly anyone, ever speak up in defense of Dick’s name and suggest that there’s a significant lack of respect around it and thus around him, that they personally take a very dim view of. (Even when Jason’s best friends include Dick’s former fianceé and own longtime BFF).

5) That nobody has ever bothered to think that only EVER being addressed by some form of insult by even his own siblings might possibly have a slightly demoralizing effect on someone’s self-esteem over time.

5b) That nobody has ever bothered to think that making sexual jokes about his name and thus innately sexualizing Dick from even his earliest days in Gotham, when coupled with the hyper-sexualized stereotypes people often apply to Romani individuals and further coupled with the suggestive rumors surrounding Bruce’s reasons for taking in a young boy, might possibly have contributed over time to Dick having an extremely skewed view of himself as an innately sexualized being no matter what he actually did in terms of sexual behavior.

I mean.....there’s more. If I felt like it.

But the point is......there’s a LOT of implicit assumptions that creep in alongside the seemingly harmless jokes and insults surrounding Dick’s name, the second you start to really focus in on how it might appear from his POV....IF you include even just the possibility that he DOESN’T like it.

EDIT: Also, lots of people have pointed out that its just sibling culture to make fun of a sibling in ways that you wouldn’t be okay with someone outside the family making the same jokes. And this is absolutely true! BUT. My issue here and why I don’t think the Dickhead jokes fall under this umbrella, is because I can say in my experience being from a blended family, and from what I’ve discussed in the past with other kids from blended families....there are ‘rules’ about this sort of thing, when you have adopted siblings, and the one near-universal truth that I’ve always found is that anything that stems from an adopted sibling’s first family, the one you do NOT share with them, is absolutely off limits. You mock them for something that originated outside your family, you’re the asshole, because at that point, you’re literally no different from outsiders to your current family making fun of that sibling. That ‘joke’ is not YOURS to make or share in, if you do not have the history with the thing you’re basing the joke on, that your sibling has with it. Shared history is the entire basis of siblings being able to mock each other while still citing solidarity against outsiders, and in adopted families, there absolutely are elements of each others’ lives that YOU are the outsider to, and it absolutely falls on you to respect that just as you’d want your sibling to respect the same of you in turn. If Jason absolutely would not be okay with Dick or anyone else making jokes about Catherine or his life with her, he should not be okay with making jokes about Dick’s name, circus origins, or other aspects of his life that stem from or call back to his time with his first family. The same holds true of all the others as well.

The other aspect of this name-calling not falling under the excuse-umbrella of just being typical sibling culture is its entirely one-sided. Show me the tendency where Dick responds to these everpresent jokes or insults by even light-heartedly calling Jason and the others insults like Hey Asshole, or Dumbass or anything like that. When things are entirely one-way, the impression given is not that of a camaraderie of back-and-forth. It becomes just one person or multiple people punching down in a way they feel confident from experience the other person will NOT respond in kind, which gives them an outlet for venting frustration, resentment or aggravation which risks them nothing, because they KNOW Dick won’t retaliate, and at that point that exchange becomes something very different from a general sibling back-and-forth....because there’s no ‘back.’ What you end up with at that point is literally just hostility, no matter if more mild than other cases, and a situation where one sibling is simply taking ADVANTAGE of the opportunity afforded by another sibling’s good nature and refusal to engage in hurt feelings even while you feel free to cause those feelings in them. And that’s just not a good look. Its just not. And even if you find those exchanges humorous yourself as a writer or a reader, you might want to keep in mind that to plenty of other readers, its making even the characters you like and INTEND to be liked, just....come across as kinda not cool assholes instead.

END OF EDIT.

And here’s the other point:

Its not really about his name, and never has been.

His name is simply emblematic of how EASY it is for people to fall into the trap of just....choosing to overlook Dick’s POV entirely, the second its pitted against other characters and what they might gain from their POV....even if that ‘gain’ is as simple and basic as the slight moment of humor Jason gets from making a joke or mocking insult out of Dick’s name.

Here, let me present this another way:

Every single person alive has SOMETHING they get defensive or protective about. SOMETHING that they’re like no, this is offlimits to people, this is not for their consumption, their entertainment, its not for THEM to take and twist into something other than what it is for ME, because its MINE. This is basic human nature. EVERYONE has this feeling about SOMETHING that’s particular to them.

And with Dick, most of the things that we’re generally given to view him being protective or defensive about are either almost more about other people than him - such as being protective of his family members - or else, they’re things that he’s not ALLOWED to be purely defensive or say, territorial about.

Like for instance, the name Robin.

Think about how Robin is pretty much one of the ONLY things Dick is largely deemed to be defensive or proprietary about.....BUT how that’s also largely used NOT to have him wholly in the right for feeling that way.....but to put him in conflict with the other Robins, given that they also have strong feelings about the name regardless of its origins, and its not solely Dick’s anymore.

Now here’s my question:

If for example, you go with the take that Robin was Dick’s mother’s name for him, and that’s why Dick is so protective and defensive of that name.....why would he be any LESS protective or defensive about his mother AND father’s OTHER name for him....given that the only possible reason for him TO stick with the name Dick all throughout adulthood, is that its the form of his name they referred to him by, and thus, clearly, it DOES carry emotional significance for him?

See what I’m saying?

Why is it, that the only time so many people see Dick laying a claim to something, being defensive or protective of something that’s HIS, standing up for HIMSELF.....is when the waters are murky, when its not a clear cut case of him being wholly in the right, when it pits Dick against someone else and says both are at least somewhat valid?

Why is it so RARE to see people imagine Dick putting his foot down in defense of himself, in defense of something that’s HIS.....where its 100% crystal clear that he has every right and reason in the world to feel this way, where there’s no doubt whatsoever that he’s on the correct side of thinking “this is mine and I get to say this”?

Even about something as simple and basic as his own name?

And why is it the only time we seem to see people sticking up for Dick or weighing in on his behalf, its in the case of extreme actions like him having been raped or abused? Why are there hardly any stories of people looking at alleged family and friends bitching about Dick or heaping insults on him or his capabilities and saying hey, he’s been doing this while most of us were sitting in middle school detention, you could show him some respect? Why do none of the people who value and respect Dick so highly ever seem to weigh in like THAT in stories?

My challenge, should you choose to accept it, is just to look at the above list of possible reasons why Dick might not be thrilled about how people use his name....and just IMAGINE what it would look like, if Dick just said to another character....”Hey. Could you cut that out. I would appreciate it if you didn’t do that.” Even just “I really don’t like that.”

How does a scene like that go? One where Dick is wholly and completely justified in putting his foot down, in feeling that someone is overstepping or paying him an insult or a disservice?

We hear all the time in fandom about how in the name of ‘humanizing’ Dick and ‘making him more relatable’ some people focus overly much on emphasizing his flaws, his alleged temper, his secretiveness, etc.

I’d like to argue that flaws are not actually the only staple of humanity. Risking making a character more dislikable is not actually the only way to make them feel more human or relatable. THIS is another way to do that. Make them defensive, proprietary, territorial, even prickly.....but with REASON. With CAUSE. With JUSTIFICATION. Because people are ALLOWED to be, when people are being a - all irony intended - total dick to them.

And there is a long, LONG history in fanfics, of people being exactly that to Dick, and him just....smiling.

EXCEPT for when his choice NOT to smile, and to actually take offense and push back......pits him against another character but with the other character usually being granted just as much right and reason to not give way.

So? I’m saying you have right here a perfect example of how to flip the script on that. To make it abundantly clear that Dick has just as much right to put his foot down with even people who love and care about him and say hey, you’re doing something I don’t like, that in fact even hurts me, and I want you to stop.

Why not use it? Why does there always seem to need to be an ARGUMENT about whether or not Dick is in the right to feel wronged in some way.....when its so abundantly clear that he’s given no shortage of reasons for that in practically every other fic?

And consider.....if you’ve never previously entertained the idea that Dick might take offense to how people treat his name, or feel defensive about it......what else might you be overlooking that he could feel that way about, and is there any reason why you think you tend not to view Dick as being defensive of HIMSELF and things that are uniquely his?

*Shrugs* Just food for thought, mayhaps.

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

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Title: Kismet {12}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy

Words: 4.2k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

Note: How are you guys liking the pacing of this story? I think this might be my slowest burn of all. 😬😬

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

When one thinks of a vacation, you think of beaches, sand, salty ocean water that you can see right through, a blazing sun that is a joy to be burned by, tropical drinks, lounging by the pool in a hammock with an endless supply of bathing suits. When one thinks of the quintessential French vacation, you could think of waking up the smell of flowers from the countryside and the ocean salt, the warm caress of the sun as you sip your French coffee, lounging on the beaches, touring the countryside by day, feasting on the best authentic French cuisine, sipping the best of wine country offered all the while soaking up culture and relaxation. In other words, live like the French.

Your vacation, though it started awkwardly, didn’t remain that way for too long. You and Henry had made it a mission to take relaxation and freedom to the max and, by doing so, you had created somewhat of a routine. Usually, either you or Henry would make breakfast and coffee then have it outside. After breakfast, you’d both lounge by the pool for an hour or two. That was before you found out he liked to work out first thing in the morning. Though you weren’t much for working out, you vowed to do it with him. which led to you having your coffee and then out for a run through the fields. He often went four miles out then four miles back, but when he realized you were not a runner, he cut it down to two and two. Even that was torture for you.

Then once you’d returned and showered, whoever came out first would make a simple breakfast that you’d have out back and then to the pool. After you’d take a drive, often going miles and miles checking out neighboring towns seeing sights. On each day, Henry always had something planned. One day it was a tour of a vineyard where you learned all about the winemaking process, helped harvest grapes, and even did the traditional squishing grapes with your feet. That was the day Henry had the brilliant idea to play up your ticklishness, which led to you falling in the barrel staining your white shorts ensemble red. He laughed his ass off to that. By the time you left the vineyard, both of your outfits were ruined, but you had plenty of pictures and a crate of the wine you’d made.

Another day it was sailing around the Mediterranean in a boat that Henry manned himself. You couldn’t help but watch in awe as he steered it like a pro and taught you the proper terms for things on the boat. When he’d found a good spot to drop anchor close to some rocks, you lounged on the hull soaking up the sun, then taking a dunk in the ocean when the heat became too much where you snorkeled around the reef. On a particular day, he took out a speedboat to St. Tropez for shopping and spa treatments that really had your entire body feeling like jello.

While he liked to spoil you with luxurious options, he also liked the rugged things too. He taught you how to fish and took you on multiple nature walks. While you enjoyed nature, you realized you didn’t like it as much as he did. According to him, he would choose to be out in nature as often as he possibly could. You were slowly beginning to enjoy it as much as he did. A few times, you took him to a club where you saw firsthand that he was a real party boy in another life. You liked the club nights because it showed you a whole other side of him. The side that was carefree, able to cut loose and not take himself seriously. It was a side you made a silent vow to bring out as often as you could.

To round out the experience, he did as the French and took advantage of France’s natural romance. There were plenty of romantic dinners at romantic restaurants that overlooked the ocean or the cliffs or the city lights and even a few at romantic vineyards with the view of the rolling hills and a sunset. The romance was not something hard to find, and it wasn’t always in going out. You spent plenty of nights in the villa lounging together with candlelight in the room and a gentle breeze wafting through the opened doors while watching something on tv together. While it was awkward before, you were becoming more and more comfortable around him.

This comfort also helped you feel closer to him and though you teased each other often, said sly things to one another, and even flirted shamelessly, nothing else of significance had happened. Henry didn’t make any moves to kiss you or cuddle or even hug you, really. The most he’d done was hold your hand at the most sporadic moments, for the shortest amount of time. It made no sense, and it drove you crazy because you could feel the attraction between you in everything you did. You could sense the desire in the air was strong, but everything remained lukewarm.

Though your comfort level rose, your insomnia never subsided. When Henry had gone to bed, you often remained up just writing music, journaling, or making things with the pictures you’d taken throughout the day. Your sleepless or low sleep nights gave you the chance to either reformulate your plan or think about your progress. A lot of times, thinking about the progress had you thinking about him, and if you did that, it was only a matter of time before your mind drifted to your want for him.

It was funny to you that before him, you could push affection, intimacy, and sex to the side and act like they were not even actual things, and it never bothered you or had any effect. Since Henry, it was damn near impossible. You thought about his touch at every turn, about his lips more times than you could count, and imagined him between your thighs at least once every other day.

One night it had gotten so bad from remembering him swimming in the pool in slow motion. Everything he did was in slow-mo like he was posing for some men’s porn magazine. That was the night you had to please yourself to thoughts of his wet lips, memories of his voice, and body as it moved through the water and muscles as he hoisted himself up out of the water with it dripping off of every inch of him. that night, it was the quickest you’d ever come. You wondered if he was struggling the way you were, but throughout the days, you saw no evidence he was, and that made you more insecure than you’d ever felt in your life.

~~~~~~~~~

-Nine Days Later-

The night was young—well, young for you. While Henry slept, you found yourself in the back yard with the breeze brushing against your bare skin. The glow of the moon beamed down on you, bathing you in its pearlescent illuminance, making you feel like a goddess of the night. It could have been the moon, the fact you were naked under it, or the 2nd bottle of wine you were on. It didn’t matter what it was; you felt good. The wine made your thoughts flow more freely, and where your thoughts went, your pen in your notebook mapped. You got your best writing done at three in the morning when you were naked and feeling wine-nice.

With your pen hooked on your bottom lip, you looked over the new lyrics you’d written for a song that Henry had inspired. The notebook was filled with at least ten more from the same muse. This song was the night’s second one. The first centered around your anxious thoughts about making the first move and how to do it in a way with little to no risk, and your worries of being in the friend zone the second was drastically different. This one focused on you admitting your attraction, the possibility you were falling for him, and your fear of him making you feel out of control. It was raw and real, the realest you’d been in a long time when it came to your feelings.

The words across the page were sensual and painted a clear picture of arousal and desire. As you hummed to yourself the way you imagined it flowing, you began replacing your hums with words. You quickly got lost in your process and zoomed through putting everything down on paper. Once your brain sparked off, it never stopped until it finished the mission.

“Aliya?”

You turned to the sound of Henry’s voice, forgetting your state of undress. Almost immediately, you gasped and grabbed the blanket holding it to your breasts.

“Shit.”

Henry was already turned away, his back facing you.

“Um--.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. God, I—shit.”

Henry snorted then slowly released a breath in a loud huff.

You rearranged the blanket then spoke, “You can turn around.”

Slowly and cautiously, Henry turned to you again. With your lips pressed together, you gave him your best apologetic face.

“I’m so sorry. I thought you were asleep. I didn’t think you’d come out here,” you explained.

Again, Henry snorted then chuckled to himself as he nodded his head. You were so embarrassed that you covered your face.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered one last time.

“No need for sorries,” Henry began trying not to make eye contact. “It’s um—it’s okay.”

The awkwardness had returned.

“I didn’t see anything. Don’t worry.”

You didn’t believe him one bit but pushed any remaining awkwardness deep down and fought through it.

“Don’t you sleep at all?”

“Not really. Remember, insomniac.”

“I know you said that, but usually insomniacs can manage something,” Henry said.

“Um, well, since I was diagnosed, I can on occasion get three or four hours tops.

“Wow. We’ve been sharing this house for a little over a week, and I didn’t know that much.”

You smiled and took another sip from your glass. “You’re off the hook, you actually sleep, and it’s great.”

“How long have you had it?”

“Since I was maybe eighteen,” you explained.

“So what do you do when you’re not sleeping?”

After finishing your glass, you moaned and leaned back in your chair. “Walk around, find a good spot to sit, write, sometimes go for a drive, online shop, work. Usually, it is mainly work,” you confessed.

Henry gave you a stern daddyish look. “Are you working now?”

You bit your bottom lip and scrunched your face. “Guilty but only sort of. I’m writing music. That’s not work for me. For me, it’s a component for my sanity.”

Henry nodded. “So you sit up all night naked writing music?”

The way he put it had you laughing out loud.

“Wow, pretty much. Fuck, when you sum it up like that, you make me sound like an insomniac exhibitionist.”

You laughed together for a few short moments. “Can’t they prescribe something?”

“They have, quite a few things actually. When I was eighteenish, I was on several sleeping pills. I was the guinea pig, and I must have tested at least twenty brands and formulas, but none of them seemed to work well with me. Of course, they had to monitor my intake to make sure I didn’t become addicted, but after a few years, I said, forget it let’s not try anything anymore. I just stopped taking the pills and sucked it up,” you clarified.

Henry looked impressed. “So you function on three hours of sleep?”

“Pretty much.”

He whistled then bowed his head. “Wow.”

“it’s not bad. Honestly, it might be a blessing in disguise. I get so much work done they wouldn’t believe.”

“You literally make money while others sleep,” Henry joked.

You softly snickered and nodded.

“Do they know why it started?”

He was asking all the right questions, you thought to yourself.

“Yeah, we know.” You really didn’t want to say anything else, and you had a mini internal fight. Groaning, you continued. “Trauma.”

You could feel his eyes on you, and you rearranged your things on the table and picked off invisible lint off the blanket, all in an effort to not look at him. Though you were physically naked, you felt emotionally so as well. Taking a risk, you glanced at him and held his gaze. He was unreadable.

“Here,” Henry said, holding out a spoon to you.

“A spoon? What’s this for?”

Henry smiled and took a step toward you. “Close your eyes.”

You scoffed and wrinkled your nose before you closed your eyes and waited. You didn’t hear anything and wondered what he was doing.

“Uh—hello? Henry, are you there?”

The sound of Henry clearing his throat told you he was in a different location that was somewhat closer.

“I’m here. Open.”

When you did, you looked around expecting something but not sure just what. When your eyes landed on the ice cream before you, you smiled.

“For your massive sweet tooth.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. He’d learned a few things about that sweet tooth over the last week. This was him being cute about it.

“This Is my favorite flavor and brand. You don’t play, huh.”

“Of course not. I pay attention.”

“Thank you.”

Henry nodded, then pulled another spoon from behind him. “Cheers?”

You knocked your spoon against his and said the same thing. Henry sat beside you while you opened the ice cream, then both of you dug in. the first spoonful had you moaning so loud it echoed around you.

“That good?”

“Mmmm, so good, better than sex,” you joked.

“Then I am sorry, Ms. Taylor, you are having sex with all the wrong ones.”

The spoon paused at your lips as you quirked your eyebrow at him. Henry wasn’t backing down, though. He held your gaze almost like he was challenging you. Damn, you thought before you looked away first.

“So you write all your own songs?”

Nodding, you put another spoonful of ice-cream in your mouth. “All by myself.”

“Impressive. I know artists try, but not a lot do it alone. There will usually be a few co-writers,” Henry added.

You were a little surprised he knew that. “You’re right. More and more try to get on it for the added profits that being a writer brings in. for me, I do it for far more selfish reasons.”

Henry quirked his brow, silently asking you why.

“I need an outlet, something to get everything in my head out. I’m up for twenty to twenty-one hours a day, and I have a lot going on in there. So, I need to be able to get that out to start fresh the next do, that means---I write.”

The way Henry’s eyes rested on you made you feel like he had so much to say, but he was holding back with doing so.

“It’s good to have an outlet.”

“What’s yours?”

His goofy smile made a return, and you couldn't help but smile back.

“Don’t judge me, okay, but it’s video games.”

You smiled and raised your hands. “No judgment here, ever.”

“I like video games, Warcraft, Witcher, Call Of Duty, HALO. Anything bloody, I’m there for it. I also use exercise a lot. I have to work out, have to.”

“Have to?”

Henry took another spoonful of ice cream and sighed out. He looked like he was thinking about something, and you gave him the time needed.

“Yeah, when I was a kid, I was heavy--,” he began sighing. “I was a fat kid, and it meant I got teased and bullied a lot. My nickname was fat, Cavill.”

“Oh no, that’s horrible.”

“Yeah, plus I was at private school. Let’s just say—it was hard, really hard. I had some dark times, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t stick with me some even to this day.”

You bit your bottom lip, reached your hand out, and rested it on his knee. Your heart sank thinking about what he’d gone through. You knew how painful words could be, especially as a child. “I’m sorry. Kids can be such assholes.”

Henry snorted and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “They sure can.”

“Plus, I could tell working out is a joy for you. I’m not blind, and neither is the female population of the world and some of the male.”

Henry’s laugh was unexpected but welcomed all the same. You liked his laugh, and the more you heard it, the more it was becoming one of your favorite sounds.

“Seriously though, I’m sorry you went through that. I know it couldn’t have been easy to work through.”

He looked down at your hand that was still on his knee and nodded before he cleared his throat.

“You mentioned you’re close with your grandmother?”

Taking your hand back, you rearranged the blanket again and nodded. “I did. Yeah. She’s my mother’s mother, and she is—she’s my world.” With a soft smile on your lips, you quickly went through your fondest memories with her.

“I don’t think it’s healthy to depend on her as much as I do, but--.” You shrugged. “She helps me with so much, like being forgiving, being more open, being a better person in general. She gets me and doesn’t judge me or make me feel like something is wrong with me. In her eyes, I’m—Corrin, my middle name, and it’s great. All the pressure I constantly carry around is gone.”

Talking about how much your gramaw meant to you made you emotional, and the sting of tears in your eyes told you just how emotional you’d gotten.

“That’s great to have at least one person in your life that can do that for you. you’re lucky.”

“Yes, ha, she’s—uh, she’s the reason I’m here,” you confessed. Henry looked very interested to know what you meant.

“How so?”

“She uh, she just reminded me of a few things and pointed some other things out to me,” you said, giving him the CliffsNotes version. You could tell it wasn’t going to cut it, though, so you continued. “She pretty much made me think from a different perspective, the one that I was desperately trying to ignore.”

Henry still looked interested, but he nodded. “I have to thank her because I’m glad she changed your mind.”

You studied him for a little while as you put another spoonful into your mouth. “Are you?”

Henry didn’t look away or give way to any emotion on his face. He just nodded. “Yes. I’m glad you’re here.”

You didn’t see any indication that he was lying or stretching the truth. You did notice that the pull between you was still there. Henry was the first to look away this time, and the two of you continued to share the half-gallon container of ice cream while chatting. He told you more about his private school days and painted a clearer image of what he was like as a boy, and the image you got was absolute adorableness and tenacity.

By the time you both walked back inside, two hours had passed, and the beginning of the sunrise was peeking out behind the mountains. You stood in the long hall that separated your room from his clutching the sheet wrapped around you and your notebook.

“So, in the morning—or a few hours we’ll catch a flight out,” Henry confirmed.

“Still won’t tell me where to?”

Henry smiled, rubbed the back of his neck, and shook his head. “You don’t like surprises, do you? This is the fifth time you’re trying to pry it out of me.”

You pinched your lips then groaned. “No, no. It’s not that I don’t like surprises. I love surprises—well, good ones. I just like to know every detail. I like--.”

“Being in control,” Henry finished, hitting the nail right on the head. You knew it was the loss of control that was making you antsy.

You closed your eyes and slowly breathed out.

“Yes. I guess I might have a control problem.”

Henry looked very amused. “Might?”

The two of you laughed together, and you couldn’t believe the call out.

“Shut up.”

“It’s okay. I get it. I like control too, a whole lot, and I don’t usually like when control is taken from me, but I’ve gotten better with it. Now, I won’t die if my control is taken. Then—it felt like it.”

You nodded at yet another thing you had in common. It was becoming more than you could count on your fingers.

“Good for you, but I—I might die.”

Henry laughed again, this time not with you, at you.

“I’m going to make you a promise. By the end of this vacation, you will be better at giving me control,” Henry said, his voice so deep and commanding that your spine tingled. When the tingling traveled around to your gut and moved downward, you clutched the sheet tighter.

“Oh, will I?”

He smirked; it was a cocky one. “Yes, you will. I don’t break promises. Never have.”

Your eyes locked, and that tingling intensified, making your lady parts beg for some attention. He was downright captivating, and it was so hard staying on your side of the hall.

“All you have to know is that I won’t abuse my control. You can trust that. You can trust me.”

You almost made the yikes face hearing the T-word. You knew he remembered you saying that trust was a tricky thing for you, and you also knew this was probably a test. You were in between a rock and a hard place. After sighing out, you spoke.

“Okay.”

“But, you do have to say these five words, though,” Henry said with a smirk.

“What?”

“I—relinquish—control—to—you.”

With every word, his voice got deeper and deeper, his eyes more and more focused on you. It was so easy to get lost in them, and he must have known it.

“Uh—no. I can’t say that.”

“Sure you can. I know it’s not easy, but I promise you will not regret it.”

Your nose flared, heart raced, mouth went dry, all points of your anxiety. You hated feeling backed in a corner, and you hated giving away your control even more.

“Will you relinquish control to me?”

With a grin, he spoke, “I will.”

“When?”

“One day,” Henry said, that grin still on his face.

Of course he’d say that you thought. “How about, I will try,” you appeased.

“Nope. Not good enough. I want it all, Aliya.”

You groaned and ruffled your curls, still clutching the sheet with one hand. He was not going to let up.

“God, Henry.”

He didn’t say anything, just waited. He didn’t even look pressed like he was worried you’d say no. He looked confident, commanding, and in complete control, and it called to you. There had never been any other man who you’d ever thought about giving control to. None of them felt like him. He felt different.

“I,” Henry perked up but kept his eyes firmly on yours. another thing you loved about him. “Relinquish—control,” you paused again, feeling the full weight of the words you were going to release. You weren’t just saying that you were giving him control to make the decisions. You were giving him control, period. That was when the panic picked up. “Control to,” you rolled your eyes then hissed. “You.”

The silence stretched, but the longer it went on, the less anxious you felt. Yeah, there was some residual panic lingering, but the look in his eyes only comforted you.

“Thank you. I know how hard that was for you,” Henry softly said.

You looked down and took a shaky breath. “You have no idea.” When you looked back at him, he was still staring at you. “Okay. Well, good night, Henry.”

“Good night, Aliya.”

A visible shiver ran through you, but you ignored it and turned around to walk to your bedroom door. After a few steps, you stopped and smiled as an idea formed. Instead of walking forward, you turned around and walked back to him. Once close enough, you tiptoed, threaded your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, then pulled his head down to yours. It was then you pressed your lips to his.

From the second your lips touched, it felt like you’d been standing out in the rain and gotten hit but a lightning bolt. Your moan was loud, and once it slipped out, Henry grabbed you, pulled you flush against him, and held you there. The hand on your hip squeezed while his right hand sneaked around your back to press his palm against your tailbone. That was when you realized you wanted more—a lot more. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, then nibbled, sinking your nails into his curls. You were second away from dropping the sheet, so you pulled back, grasping to the fraying threads of your self-control. Henry’s eyes were still closed, giving you a few extra seconds to admire his beauty. He still had the same effect as the first time he’d kissed you.

“Good night, Henry,” you said again, pecking his lips once more before walking away again.

Though you’d given relinquished control, you just took a little of it back. It felt good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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essenceoffilm · 4 years ago

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Film Details #1: The Stairs in The Red Shoes

Film Details is a blog series of posts focusing on a specific detail in a film. Details may vary from a single shot, a particular cut, or a piece of sound to individual scenes, objects, and other elements in mise-en-scène as well as larger-scale motifs in the film under scrutiny.

One of the most memorable shots of The Red Shoes (1948), a mesmerizing classic of fable and ballet cinema, is actually a subtle combination of two identical shots by means of an almost unnoticeable jump cut. It is the image of Moira Shearer’s legs as she is rapidly running down a narrow spiral staircase. The shots are in a fairly small scale and framed in a manner that crops the rest of the character’s body so that attention is distinctly placed on the radiant red shoes on Shearer’s feet. Yet the background, or not just a simple backdrop of course but a space in which this event occurs, is also important: the staircase. Director Michael Powell has explained how he achieved the trick together with his crew. In order to capture the quickly moving legs of the actress, they had to first commission a separate spiral staircase to be moved and filmed, then make a rotating mount underneath the staircase so that they were able to move the spiral staircase in synchronization with the downward movement of the camera on the crane without losing the actress behind the edges of the staircase [1]. The impression is impeccable and alluring. There is an enigmatic sense of movement that feels impossible in a way that strangely resembles the viewing experience of a similarly enchanting, though very different, trick shot of a staircase in Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958). What should draw specific attention to the staircase at this crucial moment in The Red Shoes, however, is that this is not the first instance of the in-between space of transition in the film. There are plenty of steps along the way.

Before compiling, analyzing, and interpreting the many stairs of The Red Shoes, it is important to provide a short reminder of the film’s basic story line. It is crucial to bear this in mind because it is the story and the characters’ core relationships that introduce the film’s key theme that is articulated and structured by the staircase motif.

The Red Shoes is a film about the conflicts of life and art. It tells the story of a young aspiring dancer Vicky Page, played by Shearer, who is hired by Boris Lermontov, played by Anton Walbrook, to his renowned ballet company. During the time that Vicky is hired, Lermontov also employs an up-and-coming composer named Julian Craster, played by Marius Goring. Together they achieve great success, both creatively and financially, when Lermontov produces a ballet based on Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy-tale The Red Shoes, starring Vicky and with music composed by Julian. To much of Lermontov’s disappointment, however, since he sees other matters besides art as destructive to the creative enterprise, Julian and Vicky end up falling in love. Lermontov fires both of them in hopes that Vicky would leave romantic love behind and come back to the lure of the red shoes and ballet, as she eventually does. Yet, Vicky remains torn between the two men, who represent her conflicting desires for love and art, and in the end dies by falling under a train. She is, just like the protagonist in Andersen’s fairy-tale, unable to take off her red shoes; she is incapable of shaking off her pernicious passion for art. The story is rather simple, but it is elevated by a cleverly treated intertext of the Andersen story. The theme is as old as mankind, but Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger craft a unique cinematic discourse to articulate the theme and give it new meaning. Even more so, the film is rife with details that have this very effect. The staircase motif is one of them.

There is a plethora of stairs in the film. There are the stairs on the balcony to which Vicky runs and from which she falls to her death after leaving the rapid plunge to the spiral staircase behind. These steps on the balcony (and not the spiral staircase) are in fact the real last stairs of the film. More towards the beginning of the film, there are also the almost off-screen stairs leading to the party held by Vicky’s aunt in hopes of attracting Lermontov’s interest in her niece who is an aspiring dancer. There are the behind-the-scenes stairs leading to the stage at Covent Garden where Julian goes to after Lermontov has hired him for Ballet Lermontov. There are the further steps Julian climbs with Irina Boronskaja, the leading dancer of Ballet Lermontov who eventually leaves the company due to her marriage (exemplifying what Lermontov fears for Vicky). There are the stairs behind the stage which the dancers, including Vicky, walk down after the first class is dismissed. More towards the end, there is an underground staircase which leads to a platform at a railway station which Lermontov climbs to reach his train only to discover Vicky trying to convince him that there is room for more in her life than just dancing.

All these scenes concern, more or less explicitly, a movement between the outside world of real life and the dream world of art. I shall flesh out this interpretation in more detail below. It is perhaps more direct in scenes where characters move through stairs to the stage or away from the stage and it is perhaps less explicit in scenes such as Lermontov’s arrival to Vicky’s aunt’s party or his arrival to the train platform. But it is there, nonetheless: Lermontov’s confident walk on the stairs precedes Vicky’s attempt to reconcile the conflict; she tries to make Lermontov agree to let her dance as well as live her love life.

However, one scene not mentioned above is especially characteristic of this thematic function of the staircase motif. During the first day that Vicky and Julian are working for Ballet Lermontov, Lermontov climbs the small stairs of the theater from the auditorium to the stage. This moment, though seemingly minute especially when considered in the context of the staircase motif, is revealing in terms of the thematic function of the stairs in the film. In the long take, Lermontov first passes Julian trying to reach him in the auditorium and then Vicky trying to contact him on the stage. Lermontov moves from the shadows, that is, the real world, to the limelight of the stage, the dream world of art. It is this movement between these two worlds that is reflected by the many stairs of The Red Shoes.

All the stairs mentioned above are quite minor. That is to say, one does not really pay attention to them unless one is specifically looking for them. Even the thematic function just outlined might seem a little vague at first. But it becomes more salient, I believe, when one looks at these instances in the broader context of the staircase motif with its most important manifestation. To be more specific, there are three scenes in The Red Shoes in which stairs gain increased significance: there are the entrance stairs of Covent Garden in the beginning, the stairs of a castle-like building in the middle, and the stairs in the end (the spiral staircase and the stairs on the balcony). Since I have already described the final scene with the spiral staircase and the stairs on the balcony, I will start by describing the beginning and middle scenes both of which have not been mentioned above.

The stairs in the beginning are actually the first thing that are seen in the film. The film begins with a low-angle shot of a staircase leading up. Off-screen noise of a crowd from the outside is heard on the soundtrack. A porter enters the screen space at the top of the stairs and walks down a few steps. A cut reveals two guards holding the door shut below the staircase. The porter tells them to open the doors and let the awaiting crowd in. The crowd is a group of excited students about to lose it over ballet. It is opening night for Ballet Lermontov at Covent Garden. The camera follows the intense running of the students through the stairs until it settles on a corner to capture their enthusiastic movement -- which even ends up tearing a Ballet Lermontov poster for the show on the wall. The real world that is left behind is tactile, palpable, whereas the world of art is anything but. The audience is there to sit still; they are there to see and to hear, as they very clearly emphasize in dialogue with each other. It is this opening scene that establishes the theme of movement between the two worlds through the staircase motif.

Between the scene with the stairs in the beginning and the scene with the stairs in the end (both the spiral staircase and the stairs on the balcony), there is appropriately another chief scene involving stairs in the middle of the film. It is the scene where Vicky, all dressed up in a beautiful blue dress with an adorable tiara, accentuating her red hair in glorious Technicolor, is summoned by Lermontov to attend his company in an eerie castle-like building straight from the pages of a fairy-tale. Arriving to the scene, she climbs a stairway only to find a massive set of steps covered in grass. At the top, there are more stairs to be climbed. And what awaits her after all these steps? Lermontov telling her that she will be cast in the lead role for his new ballet based on Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy-tale The Red Shoes. The length of passage from the ground to the higher top where Lermontov awaits seems to reflect the hardship that entrance to the life of art takes. At the same time, however, the duration of the journey to the top expresses the detachment of the world of art from the real world below. Furthermore, the long stairway covered in grass has a mystery to it, enhancing the transition to the dream world of art. It is as if the film took a momentary pause to emphasize not only the narrative importance of this turning point but also the enchantment of art, which is both alluring and horrific.

As said, the stairs in these three scenes are more noticeable. They articulate, perhaps more explicitly, the theme of movement between the real world and the dream world of art. In the opening scene, excited students rush the stairs, leaving the tactile real world behind, to get closer to the dream. Julian Craster, the composer who Lermontov eventually hires for his company and with whom Vicky ends up falling in love, sits on the balcony, listening to the music. Vicky, however, is closer to the stage; she is already enamored, perhaps too enamored, with the dream world of art. She is the one to tell Lermontov that the way others justify continuing to live is how she justifies dancing. To her, the raison d’être for human existence is equivalent with the raison d’être for dancing. And, of course, she is the one who ends up dying for it. In the scene mentioned just above, the scene where Vicky walks up the high stairs of the castle-like building to hear Lermontov’s life-changing announcement, there is a similar sense of inter-world movement. Vicky is dressed as a princess, not for this occasion that has come as a surprise to her; she climbs the stairs covered in grass to a castle; she learns that she will be starring in a ballet based on a fable. The fairy-tale connotation could not be more unambiguous. The real world is left behind as the character is elevated (also concretely via the long stairs) to a spiritual plane of art. The fairy-tale aesthetics are used to further highlight the detachment of the world of art from the real world, a detachment that is, as said, both seductive and frightening.

In both of these scenes, characters move closer to the realm of art. In contrast to them, the famous image of Vicky rapidly running down the spiral staircase conveys an opposite kind of movement. This is not just to point to the simple fact that people are running or walking up in the first beginning and middle scenes, whereas Vicky is running down in the last scene, but to make a metaphorical observation about these kinds of movement. In a word, Vicky’s rapid run is her fleeing the dream (her dream) rather than getting closer to it. Following the scene where she is practically torn apart by Lermontov and Julian, the former embodying the dream world of art and the latter the real world with romantic relationships, Vicky is struck by a feeling of horror as she wobbles toward the stage escorted by her dresser. She -- perhaps controlled by the red shoes like the girl in the Andersen story -- starts to withdraw. She rushes away and storms to the spiral staircase. The image of her legs racing the stairs represents her fear, her uncontrollable need, and her conflicted desire to get farther away from the dream world of art that means everything to her, but also, in the same breath, her conflicted desire not to leave the art world that has started to consume her. The ambiguity of what is in fact happening in this finale (is it Vicky’s own free will or the spell of the red shoes? Is Vicky running away back to her love or is she running to her death?) emphasizes the unresolved conflict of art and life that torments the protagonist.

What is striking about the spiral staircase in contrast to the other stairs in the film is its surreal dimension. When one sees stairs in the film, one is quite sure of their location and spatial relation to the other spaces. This is not surprising at all because stairs are precisely a connection link between two or more spaces, typically between floors. There can be clear visual cues such as an arrow sign and the word “stage” on the wall reminding us where the stairs are leading or cuts from previous scenes to subsequent scenes that provide spatial context for the stairs. Such is the case, for example, with the scene where Vicky is training with the other dancers of the company. The scene ends with the choreographer shouting “class dismissed!” A cut shifts us to the behind-the-stage stairs which Vicky climbs down (see the image above). One can see the word “stage” on the wall in the background. The camera follows Vicky as she moves farther away from the stage until the camera stops at the music rehearsal room where the next cut shifts us. For another example, take the scene with the castle-like building. A cab driver picks Vicky up from the hotel. A long drive takes her to an unknown destination, but shots of the beautiful natural environment give the spectator a spatially coherent sense of the journey. After the drive, Vicky is then seen at the beginning of the first stairway which she starts climbing; next, a cut to movement shifts us to her arriving to the top of these stairs where she opens a gate, in a mobile following shot, to the huge flight of stairs covered in grass. Finally, a dissolve shows her arriving to the top of yet another staircase, which eventually leads her to Lermontov. In both scenes, the spatial relations are very clear. No such cues are available for the image of the spiral staircase.

After the shot of Vicky running away in fear, there is a cut to the conductor of the orchestra starting The Red Shoes ballet. The next cuts shifts us to the spiral staircase whose exact location in the building remains a mystery. The following cut does not help provide context for the spatial relations either: the camera remains on Vicky’s legs in the red shoes, with the rest of her body cropped off, walking an unknown hallway and climbing down a few steps until she arrives to the stairs on the balcony which lead to the more familiar space of the balcony over the railway tracks. In addition to the shots preceding and following the two combined shots of the spiral staircase, the shots of the spiral staircase themselves further enhance the spatial ambiguity. Given the velocity of Vicky’s flee and the duration of the two shots, one would assume that the spiral staircase covered quite a long journey. It is hard to see where exactly in the building such a large spiral staircase would be located. It is possible, of course, but it is not clear by any means. It is a surprise to the spectator, and that surprise is precisely the point.

More important than the shots surrounding the image of the run in the spiral staircase is, of course, the overall uncanny impression of the image of the spiral staircase itself. By combining the fast movement of the actress with the synchronized movement of the camera as well as the unnoticeable movement of the spiral staircase, the image gains a totally unique sensation that is quite difficult to be put into words. The fact that the actual staircase in the physical space (of the studio setting) has been moved with the help of a rotating mount while filming enables the camera to capture the actress’ movement in a different way than it would had the staircase remained still. However, since the staircase does not move in the diegetic space (i.e., the space of the fictional world where the characters act), the visual impression is perplexing to say the least. This only highlights the surprise factor of the cut to the spiral staircase. The surrealism of the image emphasizes that the protagonist’s flee is not really physical or concrete but metaphorical. In the poetic space of the film, the character is detaching from the dream world of art that means everything to her -- from the world whose detachment from reality had been established at the latest with the fable-like stairs covered in grass. The unresolved conflict can only end in death.

In addition to the thematic trajectory outlined by these three scenes (first steps toward the world of art at Covent Garden in the beginning, then entrance to that world via the stairs covered in grass in the middle, and finally an escape from its consumption of the soul in the spiral staircase in the end), it is worth noting that the famous seventeen minute ballet sequence of the film also features stairs. That is, stairs are involved significantly in the production design of not only Powell and Pressburger’s The Red Shoes but also in The Red Shoes by Ballet Lermontov. There is a staircase in the background of the main milieu of the ballet, which is first being walked up and down by two women. In the end, the girl with the red shoes, played by Vicky, collapses on the stairs after being exhausted by the red shoes. Having been released from the curse of the red shoes by death, Vicky’s body is finally being carried by a man toward the stairs.

Although these uses of the staircase motif take place in a story within the story (the Andersen story as a ballet performed by characters in the film), it is quite interesting that stairs appear in the beginning and the end of the ballet, just as in the film itself. Stairs in the ballet also connote transition and, specifically, death. It is as if the stairs, which in the first instance are associated with entrance and movement, eventually turned into a gateway between two worlds. Vicky is first brought to the world of art (the first instance of the stairs in the ballet), then dies for it, and is finally being taken away from it back to reality (the last instance of the stairs in the ballet). This affinity between the ballet and the film should not come as a surprise, of course. For the ballet, to a very large extent, reflects many of the events in the film, including Vicky’s budding conflict between Julian and Lermontov.

The staircase is an in-between space between spaces. Movement in the staircase thus usually connotes transition. Here, I have claimed that the stairs in The Red Shoes operate as a metaphor for the characters’ (mainly Vicky’s) movement between the real world of life and the dream world of art. The movement is oftentimes casual, but even then it exemplifies this thematic function. In scenes where the movement is less casual and the staircase is more salient, that is, the three scenes in the beginning, middle, and end discussed above, the articulation and structuring of this theme is more conspicuous. Vicky is first pulled toward the dream world of art by its mysterious lure in the first and second of these scenes, which establish the detachment of the dream world of art from reality, but in the end she is almost pushed away from the dream world by its even horrific enchantment with which she once identified so strongly. In the astonishing shots of the spiral staircase, the link between the worlds has broken down, which is reflected by the eerie movement in the shots and the ambiguity of the relations to other spaces. The image is a shock. The extraordinary effect of the image of the run through the spiral staircase, a spatial link both displaced and uncanny, expresses this ambiguous and unresolved conflict of art and life in the life of an artist.

Notes:

[1] Michael Powell tells this anecdote to Peter von Bagh at the Midnight Sun Film Festival in 1987: “At the end of the film, when the girl runs to her death in the red shoes, she gets out from her dressing room. I thought that it would be terribly boring if she just ran the stairs down in an ordinary way so I had a spiral staircase of roughly six meters made for the scene, the likes of which are used in industrial facilities. I asked Moira if she could run down the stairs in her ballet shoes. She told me she could. The camera had to shoot the running from a descending crane. I asked Moira to run as fast as she could because I wanted the shot to be as short as possible. I gave Moira the signal to go, and she ran the stairs down faster than the camera was able to follow. She beat the camera by roughly 20 film frames. The cinematographers were ashamed. She had to run again, and this time the camera kept up with her, but when Moira ran the spiral staircase, she was of course momentarily concealed by the staircase for every lap. Since the camera was unable to turn around the staircase in the same speed, we had to have a rotating mount made for the staircase whose speed could be controlled so that Moira was constantly kept in front of the camera. We told Moira that now she could run as fast as she wanted. She ran and won the camera again by two seconds. Later, once we had the shot, my editor Reggie Mills asked me if we could lengthen the stairs. I answered no, unless we would get a new staircase. But the shot was too short as it was so we decided to develop it twice and then cut the pieces together so that it would look like one shot.” (Peter von Bagh, Sodankylä ikuisesti [Sodankylä Forever], WSOY, 2010, p. 55; my translation from the Finnish text.)

#The Red Shoes #Michael Powell #Emeric Pressburger #1940's #British

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tarteausuga · 4 years ago

Text

Home for Christmas

CW: just pure fluff, really. As fluffy and as soft as snow but not as cold. Idol! Mark Lee x reader. Johnny's there too but just as support.

WC: 3.3K

Summary: in which you're alone for Christmas and Mark tries to give you a gift to make you feel less sad.

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone. Happy holidays if you don't celebrate Christmas. I hope you're all happy, healthy and safe. I'll also be taking a break from TBTC next week and posting something for New year's ✌️

Long distance relationships were hard but they had their good sides as well as bad. One good thing is that you had a lot of time for yourself but on the bad side, you often felt lonely whenever you're out and see people with their significant others. You never really had to spend money on dates but conversely, you never had a chance to go out and show off your boyfriend in public. The time difference often made it hard for you to talk but neither of you ever missed out on your calls.

Mark would call you first thing in the morning when you woke up. It would be midnight to him but luckily, he was a night owl and didn't mind keeping you company while you got ready for your day. Then, you would go about your day before calling him at 5pm, 9am his time, to do the same for him. He often spent his mornings at home before heading to the studio for practice or to write so it was ample time to catch up and just talk about random things. He liked to watch you cook and he often would watch something in Netflix with you. Sometimes you were lucky enough to have him talk you to sleep, or sing you a song he's been working on to send you off into your dream world.

It sounds perfect in a way. You're both able to focus on your lives during the day because the other is safely asleep but you craved the physical aspects. You wanted to be held, you wanted to hold his hand, hell you just wanted to eat a meal with him sitting across from you at the table instead of on a little screen.

The past year and a half has been spent like this. You were childhood friends, growing up together before he moved overseas. You often spent recess running around together and sharing snacks. He wasn't necessarily your best friend, but he was one of the few friends you had growing up and even to this day. It's not that you weren't social but you just preferred being by yourself a lot. You kept in touch with the few friends you did have and that was all you really needed.

It was a surprise to run into him given the circumstances on both ends. He was an incredibly talented and relatively famous Idol in another country; and you moved across the country for school but ended up staying there after landing a good job. You were aware that he would be performing with his group but it wasn't your scene. And you couldn't get tickets anyway since they sold out almost instantly.

Out on your lunch break, you were grabbing a midday iced coffee. But you were trying to juggle setting up meetings and calls with a few important people so you weren't really paying attention when you went to grab the coffee, thinking it was yours.

"Oh I'm sorry." Both you and the owner of that drink said.

Finally, you looked up from your phone at the man and for some reason, you had a feeling of familiarity with him. After squinting your eyes and trying to go through your roledex of people you've encountered in your life, your brain finally figured it out. "Mark?" You say with bewilderment.

"Oh my god! It is you!" He pulled you into an extremely tight hug. "I saw you but I couldn't really tell and I didn't want to go up to a random stranger." He laughed and you couldn't help but do the same. Mark always had that effect on people, he would laugh or smile and no matter who he was with, they would do the same.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, somehow completely forgetting that he was due to perform the next day, which he reminded you of. "Oh! That's really exciting." If you were honest, you were distracted by how he's grown up. He used to be this cute boy that you would trade your fruit snacks for cookies with. But now he was incredibly handsome but still had those captivating eyes that could make you melt.

"This is amazing, I can't believe we ran into each other like this." He pulled you into another hug that brought a blush across your face. You were in a daze as he introduced you to the 2 other guys with him but you didn't really catch their names. You just noticed that they were also incredibly handsome. "But hey, if you're free tonight, we should catch up!" You agreed, thankfully.

And you could say the rest was history but beyond that one fateful day/night, you haven't seen Mark. A full year and a half later, you were entering your second Christmas without him but unfortunately, you weren't able to go home to your family to distract yourself from the boy you wanted to be with during the holidays. Not usually the type to be into overly romantic gestures, you uncharacteristically were craving the experiences that couples usually had in the movies. Your sisters told you countless times to stop watching Hallmark Christmas movies but you really couldn't help it when there was nothing else to watch on TV.

December 23rd. You were staring at your miniature Christmas tree that you had bought for your small apartment. The rest of your apartment was fully decorated in an effort to fill the emptiness you felt but it didn't seem to help much beyond wishing that Mark were there to experience it with you.

It was a perfect Christmas, the snow was falling outside and you reminisced about that rare snow day you had in your West coast town. That day was incredible. It was Christmas Eve and the whole city shut down due to the influx of white that they rarely had to deal with. Mark had banged on your door and begged your parents to let you go out and play despite it being Christmas Eve. That day was spent building snowmen, having snowball fights and everything before everyone went home and passed out to wake up to a white Christmas.

Mark had expressed to you that he missed that the most. Those snow days where everything shut down and you could just go out and be free to run around and have fun. You wished to be able to send some snow to him. But instead, you called him.

"Hi baby, how are you?" He said in a gravely voice as he had just woken up.

"I'm okay, just miss you a lot." You pouted and he copied your expression. "But look!" You showed him the view outside your window, including the snow capped trees and pillows of white on any surface it could cling on.

"Oh my god, that's beautiful." He sighed. "I wish I could be there to see it with you. I hate that you're alone this year for Christmas."

"It's okay." You flash a weak smile. "My coworker is going to drop off some food for me from her parents. I'll just have a Harry Potter marathon."

"Okay. I'll join you for that." He smiles. "My present for you should be showing up soon. I hope it gets there before the 25th."

"Hard to say. Doesn't matter if it does or not, I'm just happy to get something from you." You ease him of his worries. He often got worked up over the smallest things and you found it cute the way he would furrow his eyebrows in frustration only to breathe a sigh of relief when you told him to do so. You were his comfort and he was yours. Even if you were thousands of miles apart.

"I have to get going, love. I'll talk to you later okay?" He says and you are confused as he usually never has nice to do before noon. But you shrugged it off and assumed he just had some year end things to work on.

"Yeah I'll talk to you later. I love you." You blew him a kiss and he did the same before hanging up.

To be honest with yourself, you were starting to hate saying goodbye. Your heart would feel so heavy whenever a call ended and recently, that feeling got worse and worse with every call. Things were starting to feel like they were all for nothing. You trusted Mark and knew him well enough to know you were the only one that would be on his mind but that physical aspect was something you were craving. The simplest things like just being in the same room while you were both quietly working on your own things, exchanging loving glances every so often.

You dozed off watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and was woken up on Christmas Eve by the blinding white of the snow capped exteriors. Confused, you searched for your phone to check the time: 9:27. Mark has never failed to call you at 8AM every single day. It was your routine. It was your ritual. You send him a message but his phone doesn't even receive it. Is his phone off? You ask yourself. He did sound a bit off yesterday… Or was he just tired and groggy? Maybe he's having a late night in the studio. He said he didn't have anything scheduled for a few days though. In an effort to mitigate your panic, you throw your phone to the other side of your bed.

Forcing yourself to roll out of bed and make some coffee to try to dull some of the panic you were feeling. He wouldn't just ice me out on Christmas Eve. He's probably just tired and fell asleep before he could call, you convinced yourself.

It was nearing lunch time and you still didn't hear from your boyfriend. You had spent the morning curled up on the couch watching Disney Channel Original Christmas Movies, trying to distract yourself but every time something romantic happened, you sighed and wished for Mark. His phone still wasn't receiving your messages. Had his phone died?

In desperation, you text the only other person you knew who was close with him: Johnny. You had met Johnny that day that you ran into Mark but never processed it until you began watching their performances on YouTube. Mark had given you Johnny's number so you could apologize for ignoring him but you would occasionally ask him for favours. Usually asking him to get something for Mark from you. He often said, "I only do this because I love Mark and you love Mark."

You [11:34AM]: Hey Johnny? Are you awake?

You [11:34AM]: Merry Christmas, by the way!

It was almost 4AM so you would be surprised if he was still awake but he often stayed up late with Haechan so you figured it was worth a shot.

Johnny [11:39AM]: what's up?

Johnny [11:38AM]: Merry Christmas to you too :)

You [11:40AM]: is Mark okay? I haven't heard from him since last night. I'm getting worried.

You watched as Johnny's message bubble appeared and disappeared a few times. He was hesitating…

Johnny [11:42AM]: he's fine. You'll probably hear from him soon ;)

You [11:42AM]: ?? What's that supposed to mean?

Johnny simply replied with a shrug emoji and you wished you could send a punch through a text message. But you sighed and continued sipping on your hot apple cider as you pressed play on another movie. Johnny doesn't lie so I'll believe him for now.

You had somehow fallen asleep and you only realized when you felt your phone buzzing next to you. Without even checking the caller ID, you press the green answer button and put it on speaker as you tried to pull yourself out of the afternoon nap haze.

"Hello?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"Hey baby, sorry I've missed your messages. Johnny said you were worried about me?" Mark's voice shook you awake. You scrambled to sit up before picking up your phone and taking it off speaker to hear him more clearly.

"Mark? Are you okay?"

He simply laughed, "I'm okay babe. I'm sorry for worrying you." He apologized again.

"No, it's okay. I was just worrying over nothing. What were you doing?"

"I was at the airport." He said and you could tell there was something up by the tone of his voice. Mark could never lie to you even if he tried.

"And?"

"And I need you to come pick me up." He teased and you became even more confused which made you a bit upset as you didn't like being led on.

"Mark I can't, you're in another country." You roll your eyes even though he can't see.

"Baby, I'm not. I'm here." And it finally clicked in your head.

"Wait! You're here? Like here? Like in the same city?" You try not to scream.

"Yes, exactly. I wanted to surprise you better but the snow delayed things…"

"It's okay I'll come now!" You practically yell into the phone.

"Drive carefully!" He warned you before hanging up.

Like a tornado, you tried to clean up your apartment so your boyfriend didn't think you were a complete slob. At the same time, you were trying to pick out a cute outfit and do your hair in an effort to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

With your best effort, you shrugged when you checked yourself in the mirror before pulling on your parka and heading out the door. As your car warmed up, you reminded yourself that Mark had seen you at your literal worst. From the late night mental breakdowns to a hungover morning from having a few too many drinks with your coworkers, Mark had seen it all and always assured you that you looked amazing. Maybe he was lying a few times during those moments but he never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect for him.

You did your best to drive calmly to the airport. There wasn't much of a choice as the other cars on the road were also trying to get to their destinations safely so traffic was moving at a slower pace. After what seemed like the longest car ride you've ever taken, you pulled into a parking stall at the airport and checked your phone to see that Mark had sent you the gate he was at, waiting for his luggage. You practically sprinted across the parking lot and road, having a few close calls with other pedestrians and a few cars. But you couldn't help yourself. You were finally getting to see him.

Arriving at his gate, you tried to catch your breath as you scanned the crowd around the baggage carousel looking for Mark. When the two of you finally made eye contact, you burst through the crowd and jumped into his arms. You thought you would tackle him down but he was surprisingly strong and not only caught you but picked you up, allowing your legs to wrap around him like a koala baby. People aw'd and some even clapped while others pulled out their phones to candidly capture your reunion.

"You're here." You choked back tears, breathing in his scent and making sure you locked it up in your memory for future use.

"I'm here." He breathed into your ear which triggered the tears to start falling. He placed you back on your feet but steadied you in the warmth and safety of his arms. He chuckled while he wiped your tears away, "why are you crying?"

"I don't know, I just missed you so much." You sniffled while looking up at him with wet eyes. It's been so long that you had forgotten that he was taller than you by more than a few centimeters. So when he leaned down to kiss you, you were surprised but also extremely comforted as a wave of warmth filled up the emptiness in your heart.

"My little crybaby." He placed another kiss on your forehead.

You clung on to each other until his suitcase dropped down from the chute. Hand-in-hand, you led him to your car. Amazingly, you navigated the whole way there while beaming up at Mark the whole time. He reciprocated but occasionally pulled you to the side to avoid running into someone else.

The car ride back to your apartment was just full of you two talking about anything and everything. From when he planned all of this and how he managed to get out of his activities to Johnny almost ruining the surprise when he struggled to say something that would both ease your worries but not let you in on the secret. The whole time, Mark's hand was on your thigh as you needed both hands to properly manoeuvre your car through the snow. You sometimes caught Mark looking outside with pure wonder and amazement as he took in the image of the city blanketed by the snow. The smile on your face never left as you tried to process every moment with him to keep in your memories.

"So how long are you staying?" You say as you take the elevator up to your apartment. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and you had a feeling that your boyfriend who was usually uncomfortable with physical attraction, wouldn't keep a hand off of you the whole time he was there.

"I have to leave the day after Christmas." He says quietly.

Trying not to be upset by the short time together, you reminded yourself that it was better than nothing. "We'll make it work." You say simply to him while learning up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Mark felt overwhelmed by your apartment. The moment he stepped in, he was greeted by the sweet scent of vanilla and oranges. He tried to take as many mental notes as he could while walking around and taking in every single detail of your place. This was your home and he felt like every little knick-knack strategically placed by you was a piece of you.

"Here." You handed him a cup of apple cider to warm up.

"Thank you." He added a kiss to your temple. Suddenly remembering something, he let out a little gasp before placing his cup down on the coffee table and going to his backpack. He pulled out a box wrapped in red paper and a golden bow that was slightly flattened from its journey to the other side of the world to you.

"What's this?" You ask when he places it in your hands, taking a seat next to you.

"Just open it." He smiles. The excitement was practically bursting from him as he anticipated you opening the box.

"Your gift is probably on the doorstep of your mom's place right now." You sighed.

"It's okay baby, I can't wait to open it but just open yours now." He said.

The lid lifted to reveal a necklace with a delicate golden chain and a little purple gem dangling from it. "Mark…" you coo, your eyes welling up with tears again.

"Are you going to cry again?" He laughs and you playfully poke his side. "I know purple is your favourite colour… It's not much but I thought you'd like it." He said softly while he fixed it around your neck. You smiled up at him before you situated yourself in his lap, straddling his thighs.

"It's perfect." You kiss him, "what else did you get me?" You pull back when he tries to deepen the kiss.

"What do you mean?" He stared blankly at you.

"You said it's not much so where's the rest of my present?" You say mischievously.

"You said it's perfect but you want more?" He cocks an eyebrow up.

"Well… I haven't seen you in a year and a half, there has to be more." You tease.

"I'm your present aren't I?" He smirks, grabbing the bow from the box and sticking it onto his head.

"I guess…" you laugh while leaning in to kiss him again. "You're lucky you're cute." You say as he stands up, making sure to wrap your legs around him before turning towards your bedroom.

#nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct scenario #nct blurbs #nct blurb #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark Lee fluff #mark Lee imagine #nct mark fluff #nct mark imagine #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop blurbs #kpop scenarios

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