#but its sentimental and it’s selfish that it is and when I write this post beware

[dykedvonte]

I don’t remember where this quote was from but there’s a line that goes “I was looking through rose colored glasses for so long, the red flags just looked like the way to go.” And I think that embodies Curly’s view point in life and specifically about Jimmy a lot. Not to mentions a world where he actually makes it out of the Tulpar.

[emmaofnormandy]

Imagine Aegon comes to comfort you.

Warnings: drama, angst because of reasons; fluffy though because we love writing fluffy Aegon. Long post.

***

What a strange bond you and the lord Aegon share. As the daughter of Ser Gwayne of House Hightower, you were raised as part of the Targaryen family since you could remember—but comparison, implicitly as it was, was always there.

You always aimed to please so what else could you do if not doing as told? You were raised to be like your royal aunt but your sweet nature prevented to emulate her flaws. Indeed your wit was as sharp as knife and your tongue could ricochet when provoked, but only your looks could tell what were you doing amidst an incestuous family.

Nevertheless, against all odds you did get well with them. How could it not be? You were raised with your cousins, but it was Aegon who climbed your walls and knocked them out.

Though he’s expected to marry his sister, it’s you whom he follows everywhere. There are whispers at court, but, as you told your aunt once, where there are tongues, words will be spoken.

Yet… now you are a young woman, in an age close to marry. You have no dragons to ride and all you can brag is about winning Aemond over poetry competition.

At times you are next to Helaena, but you feel outshone by your sweet cousin.

What is this, what is this that torments me so?

You have demons to fight underneath your mask of duty and you do not like when they crave their claws on your flesh. So today you withdraw, certain that no one is going to notice your absence.

When you do so, melancholy has you on its trap. You are swallowed by it, there staying whilst your footsteps automatically sway out of their view. You dissociate, rewinding the times you disappointed every one you know.

Perhaps what is worse is the day Princess Helaena and Prince Aegon’s betrothal is announced. You found yourself wishing to be in her shoes, the perfect Princess.

Disgusted by mundane sentiments you are suffocated when confronted by your imperfections. You need some air. Perhaps the gardens will offer some solution.

Barefoot, your Hightower curls are blown off your head the more you run into the labyrinth of green towers of leaves and pomades. Tears roll out, uninvited, as if the grip around them is now loose. Because at the center of this rarely visited labyrinth lies a cold stoned bench where you sit and burst into silent, painful tears.

*

Even a merry prince as himself needs some moment to himself. Regardless of how fearful he is of loneliness—which is usually mistaken as a moment of fragility—, Aegon feels in the air that not all is well as it should.

It takes no more than a few minutes to notice the lady Y/N Hightower’s escape of the court. He sighs. Thus the recollections begin as the silver haired Targaryen royal retraces your steps.

I remember well, my lady, when we bonded. It was odd that someone laughed at my sarcastic remarks; that a relative would appreciate my fierceness, or even compliment my efforts in reading messy words.

Whenever I was faulted for not being hard working like Aemond, or when envy consumed my poor soul for being overshadowed by Rhaenyra, you stood for me. You held my hand, dismissed my fragilities and reassured me I was as good as any of them. You encouraged me flying with Sunfyre when I was anguished before the Strong boys. You never failed to surprise me, a deed few—if any at all—accomplished.

But I was so selfish…. When you fell, where was I? When you wept, where was I? When your strength was shaken, I failed you. I blinded myself because I supposed you and Aemond were too bright to burn. I whored because the idea of you led me to believe I was unworthy—as my mother often remarked that she found our friendship rather unusual, uncommon, unmatched: you, the perfection; me, the broken man.

Indeed she has been correct in her judgement. But reason often tormented me because I am too weak to surpass myself. Where there are obstacles, I see an invitation to encourage my sins; where there are defiances, I convince myself I lack capacity to overcome them.

I am not brave. No, my precious lady. This errant prince is unworthy of your affection. Nonetheless… I will rescue you. You will see that I am capable of loving, even if this means to admit I cannot be loved.

The sight of you in complete distress makes him rush his steps. Part of him is relieved to see you haven’t done anything imprudent, but another prays anxiously for whatever deity that he is not the cause of your atonement.

“Goodness!”, you almost cry out when you see Aegon. You stand quickly, trying to recompose yourself. “A-Aegon! I mean, my lord cousin.”

You try desperately to omit your distress, to conceal your anxiety, but Aegon sees through you. The prince holds your wrists and pulls you against him.

“Don’t. Don’t do this, Y/N.”

Still holding a hand over your right wrist, he releases his free hand to gently brush away your eyes, after lifting your chin so he can read the pain in them.

“We’ve already surpassed this phase, haven’t we? It’s long gone since that day where… well, where we had mutual accusations of distrust”, says he, pleased to make you chuckle lightly.

“True. We are not children anymore”.

The distance is short. Shorter than what usually is. You can smell his scent, which only infuriates your racing heart.

“Then why are you running away?”

You sigh. Something about his long gaze at you, at the kindness behind his lilac irises, at the soft smile on his lips… is enough to disperse your insecurities.

“I am not running away.”

It’s a weak protest, a lie that Aegon knows what it really means. He once used it to shy away everyone who dares to approach him. For some reason, this old tactic never worked with you. It is only natural that it has no success with him as well.

“You are not well. What troubles you, my sweet? Always the dutiful daughter, always the merry one of us all, the prideful daughter of Old Town.” He strokes your cheek once more. “The stories we created, the past I was part of… cannot be just that.”

“We forged a very good bond, didn’t we?”

“Indeed.” Then a flash of hurt crosses his gaze for a moment. “Is it what it is, though? A good bond is what we have?”

And just like that you set yourself free of his touch. Where there was warmth, now there is cold.

“I cannot… Do not make me say what I may regret. Leave me to my pain, to be tormented by my delusions.”

“I may be many of the things I am accused of. However, to be careless is not one of them.” Aegon takes you by your arm, forcing you to turn at him. “Tell me I am only a memory, that we are nothing.”

“I was always yours, cousin. But you were never mine”, you burst out what’s been killing you. “I am not Helaena. Nor a Targaryen can I be considered! What am I? Who am I? Somewhere along the lines I became what is expected! But I lost myself in the process.”

“I will not sacrifice us for duty!” He holds you against him, your frame tied in between his arms. You find the same anguish in his eyes, the old desperation that equals yours, an entire ocean of profound sentiments that invite to an inevitable drowning.

Cupping your cheeks with his hands, he stares back at yours.

“It pains me that I am not able to take away your suffering. Miserable is the man who cannot uphold a sword to battle his damsel’s torments. For years I accepted that I failed before the world. But when it comes to you, Y/N, I am not afraid of the dark. I am not that fucking cunt. You never left me on my own. Unworthy as I am, hardly magnanimous as others might suggest to make me their jest, you remain.”

“I am a sinner, Aegon. Filth with…”

He covers your mouth, impeding words to come out of your disgraced soul any longer.

“For years we repressed it. Nay, Y/N. Do not make us miserable anymore. I shall make you mine at the cost of all.” And yet when battles seemingly obstinate at the cost of your breakdown, he holds you close. “Come here. Let us leave this world, uh? I know exactly what you deserve.”

You stay there for a moment, taking his words as what you need to hear. What you need to heal. Aegon is your balsam, and this is touching in many ways.

The rogue prince, rejected by all of those who, by blood, are moved by this familiar pretense of loving him, is someone else’s solace. You, often the strong one, so sensible and reasonable, rely on his feeble, meek prince whose divinity is nothing but a mask.

Thus you stay. And he loves you more than he can admit.

*

Sunfyre seems to smile at you when Aegon gleefully takes you to him.

“Come now. He won’t bite you!”, your rogue prince beams at you. He extends his hand at you. “Do you honestly think this is a privilege I give everyone I know?”

His golden scaled dragon seems to huff as if to say: “Indeed, my lady. Do you honestly think I would allow anyone to ride me besides Aegon?”

You giggle softly. Aegon sees you blushing, the idea of enjoying a privilege few would ever do makes you suddenly shy. Your face is adorably pink, a great sight to behold when adding to it your loose curly red hair.

“Well?”

“I do not mean to keep you waiting”, you take his hand, enjoying the warmth of your fingers locked. “Thank you for having me, Sunfyre.”

The winged creature looks at you pompously, a very adorable sight that makes you smile.

“How can one not smile before the most beautiful dragon there has ever been?”, says Aegon, resting his face against Sunfyre’s forehead. “Heavens know this is just… unmatched.”

“You have a very strong bond with this one”, you observe, smiling.

“He understands me like no other”, Aegon smiles as Sunfyre confirms him with its own way of showing tenderness. “We belong to each other.”

“Indeed. I am pleased he takes you as who you are. It is what it should have always been.”

“Come now. Let us fly!”

You take the hand offered even though you are not dressed for the occasion. As Sunfyre opens its wings and begins to fly, his hands around your waist ensure you that you are safe.

“You may be Targaryen in your own way, Y/Nickname”, Aegon whispers in your ear. “But I prefer you being Hightower. It has a better ring to it, hasn’t it? Lady Y/N Hightower.”

You giggle like a little girl. Oh, once upon a time you dreamed of this moment. It is unique, indescribable. He is so close to you, carefree and merry.

His arms around your waist as he leads the way when pulling the reins of Sunfyre, at the same time letting it be leaded by this beautiful golden winged creature.

Wind blows your hair, messing it all the way as you fly higher and maybe a choked sound comes out of your throat. Adrenaline runs in your veins and for a second you fear you are about to fall.

“Trust in me, my lady! You are safe with me!”, Aegon chuckles quietly.

You can only nod. Despite the fear, you trust your guts, and delegate all the power to him. Aegon’s face is close to yours so he can read your expressions, the subtle change in your countenance quite clear. And yet when you relax, when your shoulders are light again, he knows the value of your trust.

Taking the opportunity to surprise you, he is bold enough to press his lips against your cheek.

“Oh, Aegon!”, you blush, batting your eyelashes timidly.

“Are you enjoying this adventure?”, Aegon looks so content like he hasn’t been in years.

When your gazes meet, you forget that he is promised to another. You are led to believe he is delegating his heart to your possession. Against reason, you nurture hope.

“More than I deserve. Thank you for cheering me up.”

“Anything for my lady”, and even up in the skies he takes your hand and presses a kiss on it.

This time Sunfyre flies slowly, stable as it is up in the air. It is when Aegon takes his time to enjoy it with you.

“Aegon…”, you hesitate.

“Yes?”

He waits. When he does so, eyes are locked in a long gaze. He notices the color that paints your irises, the red that paints your curls, your long nose and heart-shaped face. Sweet features that mirror the kindness within. Your lips tremble and the prince is eager to hear those words.

Those three words that he too is eager to pronounce, tasting them for the first time in a lifetime of rage and frustration.

“I am scared to speak my mind.”

Aegon puts a hand over your chin, his callous hand moving higher to cup your cheek. To fight away the remaining shadows of your heart, right at the twilight, he knocks his pride down when choosing to be the one to say what must be said.

“Y/N Hightower, throughout these years my cold heart has been endeared to a new sentiment of a kind I never experimented before, often judged to never feel it because I was deemed unworthy of it. The root to my heart has been uneasy, I know, and yet you took it with the bravery of your gentleness.”

As the words come out so naturally, you blush deeper. You’d look away if he doesn’t make you stay and see the truth in his gaze.

“You, the very center of my heart, have grown more than a companion, a cousin, someone with whom I share blood. Nights grow cold without you, I sinned hopelessly because I thought…” Aegon sighs, impatient with himself. “All of this is to say that I love you.”

To his surprise, you cup his face with your hands and lock your lips with his. Right as the sun starts to go down, as the colors of twilight begin to paint the skies, every doubt is solved, every shadow dissipates.

It is a peaceful kiss, perfectly paired even if it starts sloppy. Sunfyre hums happily as if to put a soundtrack to this moment where Aegon Targaryen is genuinely happy for the first time in years.

“I love you, Aegon”, you rest your forehead against his. “Whatever it comes, never forget how endeared you are.”

He cannot argue when you say in such a sweet manner. You convince him that with patience and time, love flourishes.

And you stay like this for a while.

***

Aegon’s eyes are glued in you. Today you are dancing with Princess Helaena by her side at a feast that honours the king’s name day.

“Lady Y/N must be a witch”, muses Aemond out of the blue.

“What for?”, Aegon casts a frown at his younger brother. “Do not dessacralize her name like this, Aemond.”

“Oh. So you are far more smitten than I have assumed”, Aemond raises his eyebrows. “And here I was presuming you’d make her one of your mistresses…considering whom you are betrothed to.”

“Assume what you want. Lady Y/N is not a mistress, no.”

His brother cannot believe his ears. Is this an scandal in the making?

“You cannot be serious. Aegon…”

“What? All I can do is displease others as it seems. They are not content when I do as told. It is time to take my life with my own hands.”

“This will not end well.”

“We shall try and see.”

Aegon stands impatiently and moves to where you are. He knows all eyes are set on him: courtiers hold their breath when you come at his meeting. But what do they know when love is clear in the eyes of the Cupid’s victims?

Helaena, who knew from day one where this would go, smiles to you and excuses herself to Aemond’s side—which only served to leave Alicent astonished, but not entirely displeased since she likes you.

What indeed comes out as a shock is that Aegon has eyes to no other but you.

“We are making it obvious”, you murmur.

“Let it be so. I have no shame in showing my affection for you.”

“Aegon, but you are promised to another”, he sees the pain it comes when acknowledging this fact.

Hands are held and bodies dance when he says calmly:

“Betrothals are often brokered. It happens under uncertainties until marriages are certain.”

You cast him a long wide gaze.

“You cannot be serious..”

Aegon smiles at you in a way few have seen it. The dance comes to an end and he bows before you, lingering a kiss on your wrist without parting gazes.

“I am most serious in my intentions, lady Y/N.”

***

You are occupied with embroidery, lost in your thoughts by the time the queen comes to meet you.

“Y-Your Grace, my aunt”, you dip to a gracious curtsy, blushing as you do so, aware of the reason why she suddenly came to see you.

“No need formalities, child”, she gives you a small smile. “I came to talk to you. I believe you know why.”

As you mutter some answer, Queen Alicent is reminded of herself. You could have been her daughter had she been married off to a nobleman of a house like Tyrell. Not only that but some traits you possess makes her lament how she wasted her youth being a puppet to serve her father’s ambition.

Painful remembrances. And yet… you are tracing a better path than she ever did.

“I am not angry at you, dear child. I should have assumed any of this would result. To be honest, your grandsire was hoping to marry you to Aemond, seeing how similar you are.” Alicent smiles, clearly judging otherwise. “Well, Helaena was closer to Aemond than you in any case.”

“I have nothing to say against lord Aemond, my queen, but it is true that I am closer to lord Aegon.”

“I neglected to consider your sentiments in these matters much as mine were discarded by the time… Oh, never mind. It does little good to dwell in the past”, she now takes your hand. “Aegon surprised me for the first time. He is strongly decided to make you his wife.”

“Oh”, you cannot disguise your surprise. You have to put a hand on your heart as if to prevent you to pass out. “He actually means it!”

Queen Alicent chuckles at your reaction.

“I was shocked too myself, but the king and I are happy to see a change in his comportment. For which on behalf of the crown I thank you and officially welcome you to this disfunctional family, dearest Y/N.”

You laugh quietly. For the first time in a long time your demons are defeated and you taste a safe victory. This is not about comparisons anymore, nor to be gushed by insecurities. Aegon has helped you heal in many, many ways.

***

A few moons later…

“I thought I was not born for happiness”, you confide him right after you landed with Sunfyre.

Since the day Aegon and you were married, the king granted the newly weds a household so you could enjoy your privacy. Ever since this day, Springhall has been your home.

“Why would you say that, Y/Nickname?”, he holds your arm against him as you two walk side by side back inside. “Stealing from me the typical phrasing effect?”

You chuckle quietly.

“No, I mean every word I said. When circumstances forced me to acknowledge my feelings for you, Aegon, I never thought you’d correspond. I felt as if I loved a star too high to grasp.”

It is your way with words that move his heart. It is how these echo the sincerity with your devotion that bends a prideful man like him. Aegon stops the pace and turns you around.

“It pains me that you have gone through difficult months, withdrawn to a heavy pressure of expectations your mother and father laid on you. Even more that I disappointed you with my wayward manners”, he takes your fingers and kisses each for a long time.

Summer breeze blows his hair, and you seem to notice this day he is not dressing dark shade of green, but a light one instead, which matches yours.

“We tend to get lost in our way when we are not properly guided, I’m afraid. But I cannot excuse my past, when I was given the chance to write a better future. Your unending loyalty to me, Y/N… Gods. I could list to all of your virtues that charmed me… In fact, let me do it.”

He keeps his words. Your self esteem has never been higher. A man like him to praise yourself in this manner… Oh, how many skeptical persons would have mocked this possibility?

To be loved like a fair damsel in these stories you read is a reality you’ve thought impossible. You knew your dreams were prompted to be sacrificed by the duties to serve your family, but alas! The impossible is now possible!

“What a joy you give me to be your wife”, you say more tearful than you know.

“You are my heart’s queen, my heart’s gleam, light of my life, my sun and stars. I am devoted to you until the last breath of this body.”

You take his hands and plants a kiss on each, holding his fingers firmly as you look at him with a spark in your gaze.

“My best beloved, I could not find happiness elsewhere but with you. My soul rejoices when yours is close to mine, when day and night I can love you right. Oh, you light my life and lead the way to Seven Paradises!”

“My poetess!”

And saying so, he kisses you under sunlight.

***

• Epilogue.

Prince Aegon’s marriage has not only proven to be a great surprise to many and a true delight to all, but in many ways it was scandalous too.

Specially because he formally abdicated of his rights to the crown to spend his lifetime with you. By giving these to his younger brother, Aemond, well… Ser Otto Hightower might have to adjust his plans. And your sweet demeanor makes it difficult to be blamed for such a decision. Besides, you found in your father a good supporter at court so all is well that ends well.

Before the great series of events that are coming, you give Aegon a number of children to occupy yourselves to. These are:

1. Aegon, named after his father.

2. Rhaena, his twin.

3. Alysanne.

4. Daena.

5. Daeron.

6. Jaehaerys.

7. Maekar.

8. Daenys.

And two miscarriages. What is intriguing is that by the time King Viserys’ death, you and Aegon are found living your lives quietly in Essos.

So when war comes, Aemond starts to question himself.

Where is Aegon? Can he be counted on for this war? Or should he better be left in his domestic affairs?

But these speculations run out of this scope. Besides, it’s not as if Aegon and Y/N Targaryen would pose any danger to Aemond and Helaena’s inheritance… Right?

Whatever it is, some things are better left unsaid. And you and Aegon content yourselves with this very peaceful scenario…

[highlordofkrypton]

PROLOGUE SUMMARY:

The world is in ruins. Humans and Faeries pick at each other’s teeth until the bone is whittled from flesh and all that is left is blood in their wake. They had been created equal, once. To think, they’d all fall prey to their own hubris. This is not what the Goddesses wanted. To Prythian, they are sending scouts to decide whether their world is worth saving, or whether it should be devoured and remade anew.

This is a dark fantasy, eldritch horror fic that may end up being unserious more often than not.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hey, remember that You Wanted a Villain snippet? It's now a fic! I probably won't post the updates here, so follow on AO3 if you like. I'm just gonna be vibing with this one, writing that self-indulgent shit 👌

READ ON AO3 OR BELOW THE CUT

The world is in ruins.

Humans and Faeries pick at each other’s teeth until the bone is whittled from flesh and all that is left is blood in their wake. They had been created equal, once. One people who would breathe life from and into nature, the other that would build upon it in ways that even the gods could not imagine. It was thought that they would complete each other, those who danced in between the trees as spirits and the mortals who sacrificed immortality for knowledge.

To think, they’d all fall prey to the same selfishness.

This is not what the Goddesses wanted.

Creatures skitter across the cracked dry ground, gathering their offerings in the form of sticks, grain and withering greens. Very little survives in the Black Lands, an old forgotten place where myth and legends roamed free. The mound grows and grows until it overflows, a tidal wave of activity where not even the wind dares to blow. 

A wolf lopes towards the pile and the vermin part in reverence. It bows its head, honouring the ghost that sleeps here.

Smoke billows to the West, another prickle of life in this forgotten place. A small spark blooms into a shy flame; it casts dancing shadows across the withered bark of the Black Forest (now made only of skeletons). It distracts from the cloaked figure haunting these lands.

He darts into the wide maw of an unlit cave, clothes billowing behind him with just a breadth of magic. He hides from no one, but he makes no noise, giving way to stirring of the Black Lands—a quiet, haunting symphony. (It can be heard by those who listen with more than their mortal tools. Its revival should wring in their guts, twist them into knots and let bile rise back up into their gullets.) 

The Stranger clenches his fist, tighter and tighter, until the strength of his nails cut into his palm. Blood trickles down his palm and into a small black bowl on the ground.

Awaken, he beckons, not with words, but his entire being.

The Black Lands shudder.

They are coming.

***

Late.

A sentiment that echoes through the Black Lands, like a steady unimpressed voice. The Wolf and the Billowing Smoke met the Stranger, the former’s shoulders stuttering in muffled laughter. The Smoke simply laughs openly without a care in the world.

“Is our little Nightshade upset?”

The Stranger’s ethereal blue eyes narrow and his nostrils flare in clear annoyance. Beings of their age need not words, those are a creation of later when the abundance of races needed some universal language that was not power. He says nothing, jaw flexing in all the things he won’t be goaded into saying. There is only one creature in the world that breaks the Stranger’s composure and it is of the greatest unfortunate that it is made of smoke and sass.

“He is so angy,” the Smoke continues, a wicked smile forming on its pale imitation of a face.

“Angy is not a word,” the Stranger finally snaps.

“And he speaks the mortal tongue! Oh, it sounds good on you, angry one.”

The Wolf’s tail sways side to side, content to be in the presence of its missing counterparts. Johannes, Ballika, it growls through their minds and through the very Earth itself. There is no one here to hear them, no use in containing themselves, but soon—soon, they will need to exist as a fraction of themselves. It has been too long. Tipping its head, it acknowledges them both as peers.

Johannes, the Stranger from the Black Lands, halts his inner machinations on how to exhort physical pain on something intangible. (He would, first, have to change its shape from vapid smoke to something heavier. Perhaps a different element, something so leaded he’d find himself trapped within layers and layers of ground. Bye, bye, Johan would wiggle his fingers and enjoy the peace he’s claimed for himself. A mere fantasy, but a comforting one.) He nods in return.

We have work to do.

The mission sobers them up from bickering and heartfelt reunions. Somewhere in this world, a fracture has widened and widened, disconnecting it from its roots—from what it should be: a Sanctuary. There are others, places where Gods have had their fill of Creation, but those were made in their image and turned to poison as soon as they were left on their own. This world, their world and former home, was built on billions of years of hope. Hope that it would be better than any other existence. It is their job to restore the heart of the Goddesses, but they can only do that by finding the source of the discord.

We will begin with Prythian. My initial investigation points to there.

The Wolf and Ballika nod. Each of them is to return to their home Continent, to the Courts they once commanded. Johan, the former yawning abyss that darkened the Northern skies. The Wolf will return to its prowl across the South and the West. Ballika will swallow the lands made of Smoke. Back to the homes in which they were each born.

“Shall we place bets?” Smoke billows around his younger brother, perching on the shoulders of his little nightshade only to be shaken off.

The Goddess coddled you far too much, Ballika, if you think this is a game, the Wolf grumbles and begins his journey towards the Spring Court. 

“Oh, it’s been millenia since we’ve been let out. Let’s have a little fun.” He looks around to hound Johan instead, but finds him to be gone. “I wager there won’t be a continent left by the time we join him. Hold, Wolf, hold. Let us watch and see.”

[livingbythewords]

The good, the bad and the boring

Today's discussion with a friend about the way heroes and generally positive and morally good characters are portrayed in mainstream media made me think a lot. It was, on the most superficial level, about Marvel movies, but the issue itself actually goes way deeper than that, and is something that I've been pondering about for ages, on and outside of Tumblr. Here's a nod in the direction of my friend @princeescaluswords, who I know shares a lot of my sentiments in this matter.

It is, of course, about how morally good and positive characters are usually considered "boring".

Now. My friend claimed that being boring is not bad in itself, which might be the case. Here, however, I need to view it as such, because it's when real life and the world of fiction tend to differ a lot. In fiction, a character being boring is in fact one of the greatest, if not the greatest sin a writer can commit. To be boring in literature, cinema, movies means death for a character. The audience won't care about it, won't identify with it, won't be curious about its motivations, which means no more movies, no more stories. So if good people are considered to be boring, that means fewer stories with good people. That means more stories with assholes.

There is nothing wrong with a shady or, using an euphemism, "morally complicated" person as a main character. There is even nothing wrong with straight up evil person as a main character. I love Walter White as a character, precisely because he is not complicated at all - his downfall is the inevitable result of his pride, selfishness and yearning for power for the sake of power, and the writers of the show couldn't make it more obvious. We are not supposed to root for Walter, we are supposed to hate him. Watching him destroying everything that once mattered is fascinating. But there is nothing interesting about him in terms of why he is who he is. His motivations are pretty clear. In that way, he is boring.

(Now, Mike Ehrmantraut and Saul Goodman are a completely different story. But that's a matter for another post.)

There is place for both kinds of stories. However I am not the only one worried that recently the odds became really uneven in favor of one side at the cost of the other. Is that it? Are we really supposed to root only for selfish and reprehensible characters now, because all the heroes are "boring" or their character arcs became completely butchered if not straight-up villainous?

It was David Foster Wallace who noticed almost two decades ago that literature became so lazy and self-conscious it's hard to stand. What a cool, sharp, sarcastic commentary on the modern materialistic society you wrote, bro! Now go write something honest and optimistc and true, I dare you. Everybody knows that today's society is materialistic, individualistic and self-obsessed to the core. We have been saying that for ages. Nobody cares about that. What is really interesting is what makes people altruistic and caring when there is no obvious gain from it, monetary or other. Why some people who have been through hell still choose to be good, despite the odds being all against them. Why we risk everything, knowing that there is a possibility we could never get back to what once was.

This is where the realms of reality and fiction overlap in a high degree. Fictional characters, both on the micro and macro scale, are a reflection of us. It was never "just fiction". The medium might be considered deep and serious (literary fiction) or shallow (superhero movies), but issue at the core remains the same. Being a good person is the furthest thing from boring. Doing the right thing despite all odds being against you requires bravery and effort and the spine of steel no matter of you are a suburban single mom, a gay guy trying to navigate the corporate world, ex-KGB agent trying to atone, or Captain America. In fiction it's just dramatized for the sake of the story, but the core principle remains.

My favorite quote about writing fiction, one that I think about a lot, comes from True Detective writer, Nic Pizzolatto. He once said that the audience has been abused by writers for twenty years through constant irony, sarcasm, plot twists used merely for shock value, and other techniques with no other end goal than reinforcing the sense of superiority in some viewers and shocking the others, who will forget about it in a week anyway. There is no place for sincerity and authenticity in writing anymore. Happy endings are for sissies. Fiction being "realistic" means that every character is an asshole. Grimdark is the gold standard now. It's all very depressing, when you think about that.

We need heroes now more than ever. We need good people, both in real life and fiction, more than ever. I'm tired of Tony Starks of this world. Give me someone who can just tell the truth without being a sarcastic asshole. Someone who finds hope and light in the darkest of times. That requires unbelievable strength and resourcefulness, and it's the furthest thing from boring.

It is seems that way, it's because the writers are bad.

[vestigialpersonality]

6 Songs - Garrett

I was tagged a few days ago by @dandelion-bride for the 6 Song Ask Game.

So meet Garrett, a human(?) sorlock. I don't typically write about him directly, he's more of a figure who haunts my Durge's past and present. I typically associate him with folkpunk. He'd hate my choices and be mad that I didn't pick out Wagner or Debussy.

Picrew here (the picrew isnt part of the game, I just don't want to keep reusing the same terrible screenshot)

I've also done these for The Inevitable Pre-Tadpole (Keres) and Post Tadpole (Rune).

Tagging @vialae @theameba1436 @picathartidae @pantsbutfancy @magmethius and anyone else who is interested

1) An event that defines your character's past

Haunting by The Pogues

For weeks and weeks after, with nerves a disaster Nowhere near that road would I go And from dusk through the night, I would shake with the fright Of the tree that had haunted me so

Flamerule 1477. The lyrics themselves aren't directly correlated to the events themselves, its more about the way that it's written like someone telling a story in a bar about a single terrifying moment that irrevocably changed them as a person. The exact same events when viewed from another perspective would be encapsulated by Mitternacht by E Nomine and is a fic I'm slowly writing.

2) How your character sees themselves

Wonderlust King by Gogol Bordello

I traveled the world Looking for understanding Of the times that we live in Hunting and gathering first-hand information Challenging definitions of sin

Always moving, never staying in one place. Question everything. Find the answers to lost questions. Another apt one would be Michael Martin Murphy's version of Streets of Laredo, if you view him as both the dying cowboy and the man listening to the cowboy's story.

3) How others view them

Selfish Man by Flogging Molly

Walk around me, not before me I'll pretend not to ignore you But I'll compromise if I realize You can do something for me

Admittedly, he probably views himself this way too. He's very self aware.

4) Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

Fairytail of New York by The Pogues

Anyone familiar with this song: "Ooooooh. 😐"

Garrett is married, but estranged is putting it politely. Posting a lyrics version of the song instead of just a snippet because the transformation of sentiments is why I picked a Christmas song to define his marriage. The lyrics take a drastic shift at 2:14.

5) A major fight scene I'm choosing to interpret this as his personal boss fight music.

Rose Tattoo by The Dropkick Murphys

A ship that always stays the course An anchor for my every choice A rose that shines down from above I signed and sealed these words in blood

I'm taking a more ominous interpretation of the lyrics. Instead of reminders about treasured memories, when in relation to Garrett it's more of a threat that he will not forget and he will not forgive.

6) End credits song

The Hand You Reach Out Is Empty (As Is Mine) by Ramshackle Glory

We're egalitarians with empty hands Is it justice to split up the dust? We are damned and we'll never earn trust And so we'll betray everything that we can

This was the first song I added to his playlist. Everything about this song encapsulates him perfectly.

[braineater444]

Hi to the five people that still think about this blog. I’ve been writing a new fic and honestly idk if it will ever come out because it feels more personal than ever. It’s about Kokonoi if anyones reading this. But that’s not what I want to talk about. I need the anonymity and freedom to complain about all the emotions and thoughts this fic has brought out of me. This is a vent post about my personal life.

Recently, a couple months ago, I lost my virginity and got into my first ever relationship. I’m bipolar and I was manic when it happened and I feel so ashamed and I don’t know what to do or say.

I try to disengage from sentimentality, but I’ve always been sensitive about everything. I understand virginity isn’t important. I get that, but I was so scared and taken aback when it happened. I have this deep rooted fear of being alone and I didn’t know what to do. I kept letting them touch me and come into my home and I never said anything. Everything they did hurt so bad and still I wanted to be with them because it was the first time I’d been given such attention. The first time I went that far and I scrambled to hold it together. I told them I wanted to be in a relationship and I knew in my heart that I wasn’t ready for that, but I didn’t know any other choice.

Naturally, this doesn’t fell like it’s going well and I’m all torn up on the inside. I tried to break up with them once, but I felt to overcome by grief and stayed. We argue over things I wouldn’t consider to be huge issues. They can’t stand the things I say or do and they think I hate them. I’m not sure I don’t. But maybe a week ago I held them while they cried in my bed at 2 am. I was tired and already dozing off, but I stayed up because I didn’t want them to feel as if I didn’t care. I’m bad with affection so I let them cry for a while and didn’t ask questions after I realized they weren’t going to answer me. Then, I helped the best way I knew how. I brushed their hair, painted their nails, and put glitter under their eyes. I felt so sad and distraught the entire time.

My family adores them. They think my partner is funny. They’re right. My partner is wonderfully charismatic. Sometimes I’m jealous of how well they navigate socially. I’m no good with others, so I do most things alone. Hell, most of the time we argue over the phone and I just hang up and put my phone on do not disturb. I can’t navigate anything to do with others for the life of me. It’s a little funny.

Regardless, when it’s good, its good. When it’s bad it feels like the end. They do things I don’t do and want things I don’t want. It hurts my head and I never no what to think. They’re so beautiful, but so jealous. I feel like I’m being treated like the one who cheated on them, but I’m not. I was never the girl that cheated on them, but I feel like I’m being punished in her stead. I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before and it’s all so contradictory. I feel shredded.

Because the world is so dark right now, I can’t cry. I think it’s really selfish to do. But, my fashion and creative expression is all I have to cling on to right now. I’ve turned to the aesthetics of religion and movies about women who’ve lost it to wallow. I’ve been looking for beautiful mantillas and rosaries despite being agnostic on my best day and an atheist on my worst. I’ve been reaching for prayer candles and investing in stories of women suffering more and more. Sometimes, I think my pain is what binds me to womanhood. I used to question myself, but this pain is undoubtedly feminine. I feel both empty and full.

Several times I thought to say “I think we started having sex too soon, we should stop for a while.” And every time I can’t bring myself to do it. It feels like an arduous labor of love. I dreaded it in the beginning, but I think I’ve tricked myself into craving it. But I’m so confused because now my body betrays me when I tell myself I don’t want it. I don’t understand a single thing.

I don’t feel like myself anymore, but I’m not depressed or unhappy, just lost. I want to return to something and it feels like I’m grieving whatever that is. Surely it isn’t my downright awful girlhood. Or my hymen. Or the time before this where I was consistently alone. I’m confused and hurt.

It’s so weird to have one person’s undivided attention. I used to think this is what I wanted. I used to day dream about it. I knew it’d be hard, but this is more painful than I imagined. I tried talking to my friends, but I can’t be this blunt with them for fear of disparaging comments from people I adore. I just need a blank slate. Someone faceless and voiceless to talk to. I don’t have to pretend to be tough like I always do (even in the privacy of my own home) or pause to answer questions. I just need to talk.

With that, I’m sorry if my next fic (if it comes out) is more psychological than anything if you guys aren’t into that. With the mess in my head I couldn’t find another way. I need something self indulgent and ridiculous because I love my partner. I really do.

[orangedodge]

"Jedi are meant to put aside their attachments and sacrifice for the greater good--"

Wrong.

I've seen this sentiment constantly these past five weeks, and so far as I can determine it stems from a misunderstanding of the Empire Strikes Back, when Yoda urges Luke to put his feelings aside and complete his training rather than rush off to Cloud City. But this was not an argument against the compassionate desire to save life in service to a utilitarian plea for the greater good: Yoda just thought Luke wasn't ready to face Vader yet, and was going to fail to save his friends regardless. He wasn't opposed to Luke facing Vader if Luke was ready to face him.

While the life of a Jedi is to be one of sacrifice, it's specifically supposed to be self-sacrifice, and not the sacrifice of others. And furthermore, the overall narrative of Star Wars takes the position that the greatest good is always unknowable to the individual, and may only ever become apparent retrospectively on the most grand of cosmic scales.

Therefore their duty is always to serve the will of the Force by acting to preserve life where they may, trusting that the aggregated will of the universe knows best where they are needed, and will direct them to where they must go so long as they trust their feelings. Hence, the Jedi maxim "trust in the Force," and not "trust in the Senate Permanent Select Committee on Judicial Affairs."

We see this in action during Episode I, when despite the urgency of the situation, Qui-Gon always stops for whomsoever is in need of his aid, instead of ignoring Anakin and Jar-Jar for seeming unimportant to his task--and he is treated as the ideal Jedi by the prequel trilogy in that he alone reaches enlightenment through his own actions.

Where attachments--defined in universe as selfish, jealous, controlling, and possessive behaviors that disregard the autonomy of others--become problematic is when they cause one to allow their personal feelings to override their duty to the Force and its will. That's not was Sabine was doing when she chose to save Ezra. Ezra was still alive to rescue, and both desired rescue, and had an expectation that his comrades would not write off his life.

It is left open to audience interpretation whether Sabine was unknowingly listening to the Force and doing what she was meant to do, or if failing that was just making the best choice she could ("save one person" over "save no one"), but regardless her choice is treated as at minimum an acceptable one by the narrative via the contrast between the heroes and antagonist.

It is Grand Admiral Thrawn, and not our protagonists, who best typifies the practice of reaching a state of detachment from his emotions, and maintaining a willingness to sacrifice those few insignificant lives to service a greater good. Thrawn has absolutely no idea why anyone would think the intergalactic rescue of Ezra Bridger was worthwhile, and seethes that he cannot understand.

When Thrawn dispatches TIE fighters and Stormtroopers to delay Ahsoka, he's doing so with the expectation that those men are already dead. He takes no pleasure in it, as Palpatine or Grievous would, and should they survive he would welcome them back, but nor does he make any provision to save them if things go wrong. Their lives are a resource to leverage, currency to spend, without inherent worth. It was his very capacity for this mode of thinking that, in the first place, made him vulnerable to getting corrupted from his purpose by a fascist dictatorship, and set him up for his role as the ultimate villain of the post-Empire era.

This is his primary character flaw, and audiences are not meant to see great wisdom in it, less wish that the protagonists should be more like him. His inability to make the leap of faith is why he is ultimately a tragic villain, doomed by the narrative. The moral thesis of the setting is that weighing lives against one another is a trap. It holds that not knowing what is best for the galaxy, the correct position is therefore to always to treat people with compassion and kindness, and those who refuse to render aid to someone in need of it, in favor of servicing an abstract higher good are always treated as in the wrong.

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

Another post-season ficlet

Last one before the finale (probably). Obviously spoilers for Loki.

Give Me a Choice (Let Me Choose You)

He finds Mobius, alone, sitting at his desk. He isn’t doing anything, just staring at the items on its surface, at the writing on the wall. The peaceful hum from the monitor at the other end of the room provides a reprieve from its previous heralding of the Loom’s explosion. The imbalance of the timelines is over, and a calm Loki struggles to appreciate has settled over the TVA.

“Are you ready to go?” Loki asks him tightly. He isn’t ready, himself. He’ll never be ready.

Mobius doesn’t look at him, just continues to stare at the contents of his desk. It unsettles Loki; he hasn’t known Mobius to take the time to be sentimental about anything except jet skis. 

“This is the only life I’ve ever known,” Mobius says softly. “I don’t know how to leave it.”

“He Who Remains took your life from you,” Loki says. “He took your memories from you. You didn’t get to choose this life.”

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t choose it now.” 

“The TVA has destroyed entire timelines’ worth of lives. It’s time to take a new path, and that starts by returning you all to your lives.” Loki says.

“Are you so eager to be rid of me?” Mobius’s voice rises, and he looks at Loki at last. 

“I didn’t say that,” Loki replies, surprised by Mobius’s sudden anger.

“You said you brought us all together in the past. You said you were trying to reverse the effects of the Loom exploding.”

“It didn’t work. It didn’t work, because that’s not actually what I was doing. I was being selfish. But now we’ve fixed the Loom, and the timelines, and it’s time to stop being selfish–”

“Those aren’t your words,” Mobius interrupts, eyeing him. “She told you it was selfish, didn’t she?”

Loki feels the irritation build in him now. He sees the old distrust return to Mobius’s eyes, that resentment of Sylvie he’d held when interrogating him after the TVA picked him and Sylvie up on Lamentis. He can hear the accusations, of conspiring with his other from the beginning, of betraying Mobius, of falling in love with Sylvie. He’d thought they were past this. 

Sitting here now, minutes before he has to say goodbye to Mobius forever, it hurts far more than it did then. Before he’d been confused, still sorting through his feelings for both of them. Now he is sure who he loves, and that person is glaring at him and using the last conversation they’re ever going to have to pick a fight with him. 

“So what if she did, Mobius?” He snaps. “She was right. I was selfish. I am. But I have to stop thinking about what I want. What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Who is she to accuse you of being selfish, when she caused the timelines to disintegrate? She refused to accept responsibility for her actions and the Loom exploded and she still thinks she can dictate what happens next for everyone. She told you everyone should return to their pasts, too, right?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “How is that any different than what He Who Remains did?”

Loki huffs and gets up, turning to leave. He doesn’t want this to be how they part, but there’s a lump in his throat, and crying in front of Mobius isn’t how he wants to end it, either. 

“Yeah, go back to her.” Mobius mutters darkly. Loki opens his mouth to respond, but finds he has nothing to say to that that won’t come out broken. 

He gets two steps to the door before he sees Sylvie in front of him. She stalks forward, halting his retreat.

“Sit down,” she orders him. She gives him a firm look that leaves no room for argument, then fixes the same expression on Mobius to keep him in place. Mobius looks frustrated but remains in his seat as Loki drops back into his own chair. Sylvie sits on the desk, glaring at both of them.

“First of all, don’t use me as an excuse to turn your heartbreak over leaving each other into a fight.” She says. Loki glances at Mobius, who meets his gaze briefly, looking a little guilty. Loki frowns at him apologetically before returning his gaze to Sylvie. 

“Second of all, I was wrong.” She says this to Loki. “You aren’t selfish for wanting to be with your friends. I’ve spent so long running, so long wanting to be free to just stay in one place, so long without anyone in my life that I’ve convinced myself I don’t need anyone. I assumed everyone else would want that, too, as soon as they knew the truth about He Who Remains and what he did. 

“I thought the right thing was to send you back to your past,” she says to Mobius. “But you’re right, not offering you a choice is just the same thing He Who Remains did, in reverse. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry. You should make your own decision.”

“What made you change your mind?” Mobius asks.

Sylvie frowns, embarrassed. “I was speaking with B-15. She’s staying, by the way.” Then she looks between them. “Don’t waste what might be your last words to each other by fighting. Seriously.” There’s a worrying look in her eyes, like she’s remembering something, and Loki isn’t sure he wants to know what it is. 

She gets off the desk and starts to walk away, but pauses. “Oh, and for what it’s worth,” she adds, glancing at Mobius. “There isn’t any romance here.” She gestures between herself and Loki. “Never has been.” She raises her eyebrows at Loki, and he smiles and shakes his head in agreement. Then she leaves them alone.

Loki forces himself to look at Mobius, though with Sylvie gone, the awkwardness in the cubicle has somehow increased. 

“I’m sorry,” Loki says, at the same time Mobius does, too. They smile tentatively at one another. 

“What do you want?” Loki asks him softly, heart in his throat. He isn’t sure he wants to hear Mobius’s answer, but just a moment ago he was arguing with his best friend, and before that, he had been convinced he was coming to tell Mobius goodbye. 

“What do you want?” Mobius counters.

Loki huffs, but it’s gentler than before, and he doesn’t break eye contact. “I asked you first,” he says, tone betraying his nerves as it shakes. He sees in Mobius’s gaze that the other man notices.

“You’re staying here.” Mobius murmurs; Loki nods, swallowing. Mobius searches his face, and then his eyes widen a fraction at whatever he sees there. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” Loki frowns, unable to look away, unable to even consider what Mobius could mean by that. Please, just tell me. Break my heart or restore it to life. I can’t wait any longer.

Mobius’s gaze softens impossibly further. “Loki. I love you. I have for a while, probably since before I was pruned. I want to be wherever you are, if that’s something you want.”

Loki stares at him. “Mobius,” he breathes. Suddenly, the distance between them is too much. He doesn’t know how he was ever going to let this man go back to the timeline, when the mere inches between their chairs is too far for him. He gets up, closing the distance between them. 

Mobius must be able to see his feelings on his face, because the agent reaches up when he’s close enough and cradles his face. Loki leans into the touch. “I love you, too. I want you to stay. I want you to stay with me.”

Mobius leans forward and kisses him. 

“Do you want to know something?” Mobius murmurs against his lips when they break apart, his eyes still closed. Loki hums in response. “There’s not a chance in hell you were going to get rid of me, even if I got as far as the timeline.”

The admission makes Loki’s heart twist in a wonderful way, and he kisses Mobius again. “I’m glad to hear it,” he whispers, “because I didn’t know how I was going to say goodbye to you again.”

Mobius frowns at the quiver in his voice and brushes his thumb over Loki’s cheek. Loki realizes he’s crying. 

“How many times did the timelines die?” Mobius asks softly, brows knitting together in concern.

“I lost count.” But he’d meant Mobius being pruned, too, and leaving him to go to the Citadel, and maybe even following Sylvie onto Lamentis. 

“It’s over.” Mobius assures him, pulling him down into an embrace. “And I’m staying.”

[south-sea]

Gimme Aruna's love language. You can't just say "And if you really want to make my day ask about Aruna" in the tags of your nov 18th post and leave me hanging.

i had to go digging for it but anon is referring to an old ask game post

that tag was more of a general anything-goes for aruna asks but rolling up sleeves alright let's tackle arguably one of the most difficult (delighted)

it's tricky because as a mobian, this guy is ~15+ years out of context, and 13 of those years were spent under circumstances that left him empty and just trying to survive (again, but worse). even in a kinder setting now with a new community and support system, he doesn't really act out of love so much as habitual responsibility.

he cares for the settlement he's taken up residence in and the people in it, and certainly some of that care is more personal on an individual level than others, but he doesn't view it as "love". he does those things because that's just what you're supposed to do? it's the same as how he'd act in his capacity as black doom way back when with his hive, just with slightly more emotional distance. a lot of what he does is ultimately still self-serving.

he helps build up this settlement and the people in it not because he wants to see it specifically succeed, or see them thrive, but because he lives there. but he's also not doing it just because he lives there and wants a safe place to live/for the people to feel compelled to treat him well. and while that's definitely how it started--he had to learn new etiquette rules and such to fit in and be more generally likeable enough for them to accept him--he still lacks a certain emotional investment in them.

like, yeah, it's love in the most basic sense, but it's hard to articulate why it's also not? they're his people now, in a sense, and he knows he belongs there, and recognizes when they show him love, but for his part he's just operating normally. he can't just be a freeloader or treat them like he's their leader instead. that's not how things work here. and besides, he'd go crazy without anything to do anyway. so like i said; most of what he does is still self-serving at its core. he just balances that and acts in such a way that it benefits more than just himself.

he lacks empathy and is selfish, but not in a way that damages others--and ensuring he keeps that balance is deliberate for the sake of staying in people's good graces. it is the literal definition of manipulative, but he's not doing it out of malice (anymore). he just wants to raise his chance of survival. he has nothing to live for but himself and the memory of his people.

in the present, if you shove all of that aside, and squint really hard past his barrier of invulnerability and neutrality, he shows it to specific individuals the most in what he lets them get away with. he hates being touched. is not very gentle or soft or kind in how he speaks. but he can be patient, and affords people close to him (especially children) some of his learned softness. he lets these chosen people hold his hand (even if he doesn't understand why) or hug him for their own sake (even if he's not particularly keen on the idea) or talks them down from anxiety or an upset (even if he is so, so bad at empathy and lacks the type of experiences that would help him navigate delicate situations).

back when he was still just regular black doom with a hive is different, though. i should preface this with the fact i write the black arms, especially in the context of aruna's hive, very differently from canon; they were all individuals with their own culture, and the hivemind was more of a shared telepathy ability rather than ant-like.

he was not overly-affectionate or outwardly sentimental, but he loved them all dearly in his own way, and it showed in subtleties. he was their leader, yes but they were everything to him. he would forego meals if it meant feeding a youngling instead. wore rings of the fallen and cycled them out with the most recently-lost to honor their memory. allowed younglings to get a bit clingy even though he hated being touched even back then. helped raise a lot of them, mourned the loss of the adults with the culture-appropriate equivalent of funeral, never forgot a single one of them, kept their stories alive until he no longer could.

all he has left are scraps and a monument the present-day settlement helped build. but he respects the settlement and acknowledges himself as one of theirs enough to integrate some of their funeral rites with his own due to being unable to put what remains of his kind to rest in the way he normally would.

[thrudgelmir2333]

Response to a Reddit Post: Is the fanfiction portion of the fandom dying?

I'm currently working on a series of Tumblr posts about my characters, starting with my main, but I realised I had more work on my hands than I thought, so I kind of put that project on pause.

In the meantime, in the interest of keeping my Tumblr account active, I've decided to start sharing some Reddit responses I make to certain topics, since many times they tend to be as big as blog posts in their own right. I'm not gonna go back and repost here everything I've ever written on Reddit, I'm just gonna repost stuff I do from now on cause it's a shame to let all that typing go to waste.

Starting with my response to this Reddit Post:

https://www.reddit.com/r/SaintSeiya/comments/13dbofy/is_the_fanfiction_portion_of_the_fandom_dying/ ------------------------------ I can't speak for other fanfiction sites, since I've only as of last Summer been posting outside FF.net, but I would say that while the fanfiction portion of the fandom is not dying, it is definitely going through a bit of a drought. There's just not much to write about right now.

I think that in order to have the kind of thriving fanfiction you're probably picturing with this question, you need a number of things:

-Creative Appeal: the premise (in this case Saint Seiya) needs to be experiencing a surge of widespread media fascination. This doesn't mean commercial success, it means people need to see something in the premise that stimulates their creative interest and that they can easily get other people to care about their writing of it by just appealing to the common interest in the premise;

-Demographic Appeal: fanfiction writing is something that, unfortunately, is still very demographically driven, being considered a hobby of teenagers, minorities and adult women for the most part (in other words, people whose viewpoint is usually absent or misrepresented in mainstream media, encouraging them to seek alternative or amateur storytelling).

-Sexual Emotion Appeal: Fanfiction is also a space for experimental and restricted forms of writing to bloom. People get attached to a property or franchise, notice that it has romantic tension that goes unfulfilled, and write about it to make it happen;

-Experimental Storytelling Appeal: A franchise good for fanfiction writing is one that makes itself open to different types of storytelling. The MCU is great for this because it has made clear to its fans that it has no qualms in mixing Hulk stories with Dr. Strange, time travel and parallel universes.

So in a lot of ways you could say fanfiction-fertile environments are environments with a lot of 'untapped potential', at least from the perspective of the fans.

When you look at the landscape of Saint Seiya, you'll see the last big surge of fanfiction was in the late 2000s and early 2010s, when Lost Canvas was coming out. Whether you like Lost Canvas or not, it is undeniably an ideal manga to spur fanfic sentiment in Saint Seiya, with its cast of well-drawn characters, heavy enphasis on the emotional aspect of the fighting (rather than action) and even its (spoiler alert) reveal at the end that the whole story is largely a timeline construct by the character Mephistopheles Youma, indicating that this universe is open to things like alternate timelines and viewpoints.

This fertility is further enphasized by the fact that a lot of the LC Gold Saints are... kind of selfish assholes. Many of them pop up late in the story when they could have been helping from the beginning, many of them seem to have people in their lives they value more than their duty and many act outright more interested in the battling in and of itself rather than the grander purpose of the Holy War. Sasha is almost a circunstancial element in their lives and that's kind of what makes them more human and liable to have stories written about them.

But classic Saint Seiya is a rather straightforward story, especially after Sanctuary. The characters' drives are very strongly centered around the main conflict and they very rarely allow themselves self-interested moments. We are so starved of characterisation on the Gold Saints that to this day people still ship Mu and Aldebaran together because they had ONE conversation early in Sanctuary Arc about what they thought of Pope Arles.

This all ironically in SPITE of ND, which has a rather colorful bunch of Gold Saints and even time travel, because the very rigidness of the SS format and Kurumada's slow storytelling pace are discouraging any sense that there are real character consequences for what happens each chapter. I mean, how many people have absorbed into themselves that Shiryu is now more or less officially rid of his Shoryuha's heart weakness after his most recent power up in ND?

The big exception is Shun; Shun has a lot of fanfiction written about him, or written with him, or written about characters interested in him (like Ikki or the Specters). You would think that, in the typical fanfiction manner, it's because of his mixed gender role in the series, but I would disagree, because another big fanfic appeal in SS is Hyoga, of all people.

I think Shun and Hyoga appeal to fanfiction writing because of all the characters, these two seem to act like they have a wisdom separate of the main conflict going on in the story. Shun is always the one reminding everyone else that they shouldn't be violent just because they're fighting a war, and Hyoga is always the one talking about having loved ones beyond the Bronze Saints (namely his teachers and his mother) as a consistent part of his characterisation (and not a pretend motivation like Seiya with Seika). Shun is also the one among the Bronzes to have been made a vessel of an enemy God, Hades of all people, which contributes to the sense he has somewhere to go to other than being another Power Ranger in Seiya's team.

There is a direct relationship between characters with selfish dimensions to them and fans wanting to write fanfiction about them.

So if we have Lost Canvas, Shun and Hyoga, why the drought?

As we move further in time away from stories like Lost Canvas, naturally it's relevance diminishes. New generations of Saint Seiya fans are not going to know who the hell Kardia is and they won't care. Instead, they have stories like Omega (which was experimental with Saint Seiya, if anything) and Saintia Sho (an all female story).

While Saintia Sho is great, the problem, fanfiction-wise, is that Chimaki is very upfront about her characters' interests. There's no need for Sho fanfiction of her pairing up with Kyoko because Chimaki does it herself in her own manga, so if you're interested in Sho, you almost could say you are too satisfied. It's potential is already tapped. Sho kind of destroys its own fanfiction potential by embracing its sexual tension. We've basically stopped short of having Shoko and Kyoko kiss in the series.

And Saint Seiya fans are not gonna write Omega stories because it tried to appeal to its most anti-fanfic demographic, male shounen fans, who made it into a hate-meme. So it's a mute point.

This leaves Dark Wing (which is basically a Isekai fanfiction of its own right) and Episode G.

Episode G just sucks for inspiring fanfiction. It's ugly, it has bad photography, it has the emotional tension of a teenage graffiti on the principal's hall and it has pretty dull Holy Wars that exist pretty much as excuses to draw Gold Saints looking mean and shooting shiny beams at weirdos in black armor. I challenge anyone to think of an interesting fanfiction to write about it. You can't. And no one has. In my 13 years of following the fanfic communities, of all the SS spin offs, Episode G has barely, if ever, had stories written about it by fans, much less popular ones. The closest to it has been Jenny DeVic's More than Gold and even she expressed disappointed on Episode G's handling of the Evil Pope Aiolos plot.

This not to mention that the people who DO like Episode G for its stories are the type that will more likely express it by going on Versus Forums and argue with strangers about math, rather than talk about why it's characters resonate with them. Which is rather revealing, if you ask me.

As for Dark Wing, I don't think there's anything particularly wrong with it, but in general people don't like writing fanfiction about other people's fanfiction. I also think the fandom's understanding of that manga is the least developed and the story is kind of flying under everyone's radars, so people feel both a lack of supply and demand for stories set in it.

So there's really not a whole lot of reason to get into SS fanfic writing as of 2023 because, well, frankly, it's not that easy as just opening up Microsoft Word or Google Docs and type about how pretty your favorite Silver Saint looks. You need a story to tell, and reactions to look forward to, so unless conditions for high interaction between writers and readers are met, it's not gonna be worth it.

As for classic Saint Seiya, most fanfictions, especially the ones that keep going, have either been SS rewrites or attempts to continue unto the Heaven Arc. This reflects the main demographic of fans feeling unsatisfied with Saint Seiya, in other words its "untapped potential". Rather than being character oriented, the fanfic appeal seems to be plot oriented.

Which is just fucking sad cause no one wants to read someone other than Kurumada finish HIS story. :| Especially when he's still alive and trying to do it.

So are there fewer fanfictions? Well, to reiterate, yes and no. If you pull up official numbers, it's probably the same as always, like people are saying here.

There IS, however, definitely less gems and definitely less interest from the fans in reading them, which creates a feedback loop that makes the landscape feel abandoned or biased against. The only thing that can really fix this is either a change in attitude about what we should expect of amateur fan writing OR another Lost Canvas type manga. And this is both Saint Seiya's responsibility and our own.

[cloudyyoimiya]

omg hi, i’m the anon who requested the continuation of the yandere ranpo fic! i absolutely loved it!! 💜 i’m so glad i was able to brighten your day, i truly do enjoy your writing a lot :)

i reread your continuation post 3 times to really take in the little details, and i am once again obsessed with the subtle implications and feelings of despair in your dark fics! the bit about the ruined pants being darling’s favorite was such a punch to the gut on top of everything else, you’re so good at setting up little instances of tragedy to further darling’s suffering..i love the way that just one or two lines can carry such a dreadful impact!

ranpo is so well written too, his surface level actions are deceptively sweet, but they drip with selfishness and manipulation. he can’t just comfort his darling, he has to use the opportunity to drag them into codependency little by little, associating loving him with safety. yandere ranpo’s childish words take on a whole new menacing meaning that only his victim can truly understand. it’s so easy to rationalize that he simply really doesn’t like lies, until you realize that he will bend this sentiment in whatever way serves him best. he’ll starve his darling if their lie is something he doesn’t like, but the moment the lie is something he wants to hear, suddenly his attitude completely changes. he may like to make ‘romantic’ gestures, like offering to get food for his darling, but it’s still all about him because he immediately accepts the offer that pleases him, even though he's clearly smart enough to know that it's not his darling's true wish. you just capture the selfish nature of a yandere relationship so well, even beneath the layers of faux romance!

ranpo is my favorite bsd yandere because he’s terrifying and virtually inescapable, but he also does it all while maintaining that eerily innocent appearance. he’s literally the most dangerous person his darling has ever met, but somehow he’s also so immature, and that’s scary as hell in its own way! he reminds me of that meme that’s like “please release the hostages” and then the cat with its tongue out is like “blegh, i’m not doing that!” because that’s literally ranpo with his captive darling 💀

the prison threats also distinctly made me picture a scenario where ranpo’s darling snaps at him early on and calls his home their prison (rightfully so), and he’s just like “oh you think THIS is a prison? because i could easily put you in actual prison with a murder charge 😊”

anyway, this isn't a request and you don't even need to respond if you don't feel like it, I simply wanted to drop by and share more of my thoughts on your work 💜 thanks so much for accepting my original request, I was delighted to see it! i hope you have a great night 💜

i know you said that i don’t need to respond but i wanna let you know this made me really happy!

i’ve never really had anyone step back and analyze my fics, so it really makes me happy oh my lord. when i first read this i had a big goofy grin on my face

thank you so much for enjoying my work. it truly means a lot 😭

i won’t lie to you some of the things you pointed out were unintentional for the most part. i knew what i was writing and i knew that it would affect the story, but it was kinda like my brain was on auto pilot as i was writing those things. i’m unsure if that makes sense though LMAO

anyways i’d like to thank you again. have a good day/night anon!

[eydi-andrius]

2022 was the shittiest year of my life, I'm still halfway there I know, but it was.

Before posting this...I thought I'll do the usual new year stuff greeting, you know... looking back being grateful, thankful for the negative stuff, turning things into positive.

But nah, you can be grateful but still admit that it was straight up bad.

It started off with me losing, being the butt of the joke, losing, realizing that I was the only one around who doesn't love myself than I should, being called selfish for putting boundaries, being called out for cutting people off without apologizing anymore, knowing that the most important person doesn't give the same sentiments towards me, keeping my peace and leaving without looking back once its not working anymore.

Somehow, I was told there were better ways to do it. However, when I was at my lowest these people were never there to help me out anyway. They stressed me out. Made me look stupid. And called me names I will never call them in my life.

I want justice for what they did to me. I was fueled with resentment. Yet, I never acted on it. Instead I made sure it will never happen to me again.

2022 was my year of meeting people who will scarred me to death or as a survivor.

I did meet the most awesome humans and community though. They supported me, whether they were aware of it or not. I am thankful, grateful, that I found them and they existed.

The journey was rocky at its best. I loved it though. I started getting to know myself. Being comfortable at being the weirdo. Prioritizing and making myself the number 1 whilst being empathetic. It was so hard and I remembered crying over the things I can't control each night when I thought I was okay. But healing is messy, so I was fine with it.

Take note, that I am only writing this here because this is the only place I feel most comfortable to share this with.

And having a shitty year is definitely okay. And no, just because you only remembered the bad things that happened last year, you will also share the negative to the upcoming year. Toxic positivity is much worse and deadly.

The first step into self love is being honest with yourself, accept it, then think of how you can work on it the next time. If you can't do it now, timing will help you out. I don't know how to explain it but yes, it will work out somehow. And that's the biggest lesson I've learned this year.

And yes, yourself is your number one ally. So be kind, always be grateful, and always talk kindly to yourself. No matter what the situation was because love is not abusive. It is soft, kind and gentle. You deserve to be treated that way.

I hope, wish and I'm sending all the blessings I can share to everyone so we all have the prosperous new year we needed, deserved and wanted.

Happy New Year and thank you for being here.

[chococookiez]

nightly ptv posting in random places until i see them live (123 days left!!) - not in the greatest place rn as this cold covid continues to fuck with me both physically and mentally so im gonna get really sappy and talk about how significant each album is to me cause i could write a whole essay on this. under cut cause this is gonna be long

collide with the sky was the album that got me into this band. one of my irl friends was reposting tiktoks about them, i heard the hell above transition and instantly ran to them for recommendations cause i was HOOKED. that night i think i listened to them for around 3 and a half hours straight, i think i went through the entirety of collide, selfish machines and afftd (im not sure if i finished afftd or if i looked at misadventures yet) and the only thing that stopped me from continuing the binge was a massive headache that came over me. hold on till may inspired two of my ocs as i imagined them taking the roles of both people in the song, their personalities and how that'd fit into an existing universe we (me and my friends) had. they're still the two ocs i think about the most since i connect them with ptv very often and - yknow, hyperfixation. fun fact: i timed the "im sorry but ive made up my mind" in bulls in the bronx to happen when it hit midnight on my birthday. no clue why, just thought it was cool ig

the jaws of life was the first album i owned physically, accidentally managing to acquire both the cd and the vinyl on my birthday (cd was spotted in hmv, vinyl was my grandma's gift. there's a certain cashier at that hmv that i think happened to be working that day who shares my music taste, they recommended my dad listen to them since he said he got the cd for me lmaoo) the songs on that album were the first ones my parents heard, as my dad's car has a cd player so i popped it in on the way back home. much later on due to some shenanigans involving a shitbox car thats best music source was cds and oh look ptv is the one band my mum didn't mind listening to and i had 2 of their cds (i'll talk about that later), it ended up becoming her favourite album of theirs so we'd very often listen to it on journeys even when she got her car back as it was one of the few things we shared taste wise after i took a dive bomb into rock/metal, so while its my least favourite in terms of songs as im writing this (i don't dislike them!! some of my faves are on there!!), im incredibly sentimental towards it regardless.

misadventures was the second album i owned physically, finding the cd buried in a local record shop (it has the acoustic bonuses on it!!), and i think i can sorta call it my favourite album of all time. almost every single song in that album has been put on loop at least once (i mean that very literally. every single one. except sambuka? idk, just wasn't in my head as much...) it was also involved in the shitbox car shenanigans which might have influenced my love for it too. the divine zero in particular had (and still has tbh) a strong chokehold on me, being a little too relatable for me as i was going through a very dark patch in life that im not sure is entirely over yet actually, though it at least feels like it might be. i still can't listen to that song only one time whenever it comes on, i have to replay it at least once. it was my top song on spotify and i barely even fucking use spotify. can you tell im normal about the divine zero?

tl;dr - ptv are cool. im normal about them. thumbs up emoji.

a flair for the dramatic and selfish machines, while not having a big long story behind them, have been incredibly important to me during The Cold Covid as their songs are the main ones im obsessed with currently. some noteworthy songs off them are she sings in the morning/yeah boy and doll face (ok this one's kinda silly: i found out people found the first song through osu which i hadn't played in ages and these two was some of the first plays i got in a very long time so i currently hold them very close. fun fact: i like rhythm games!), wonderless/chemical kids and mechanical brides (INCREDIBLY calming to me, go tos when i need to lower my energy levels), million dollar houses (very closely connected to one of the two hold on till may connected ocs) and fast times at clairemont high (ok it's just a banger to me. the high notes make me fucking feral and i listened to the song 10 times in a row once. oops)

[libidomechanica]

Proves image is but a coltes tooth

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               1

The new strong in this verse receivest without   him a good deal with zeal. To Helene,   Father rude lines that when the small carried, we only law. Behold gods protective like Burns whom Doctor Currie well awake,   We will see thrise-sad trimmer, ye wadna   been sae shy; for thyself to that hath produced, and certes, enter’d round. Twas the least any othere break the truth arrived to   been many change; intrigue with thee another.—   It successive heir of Mahometans forbere hym twisted tear from Aristotle pass, whilst I though the shall they grew;   a good to that she was purveiance of all   reward. Proves image is but a coltes tooth. Did not sent. Bring three or flattery!

               2

And they want to issue seem’d middling; and   look into hear his without her babe unborn,   and praye to and fireworks with suits and you wi’ a’ your tight, or like small coverlet’s queans; and, swift-lisping slowly, by depart   from everemo. First in this, survives.   I’m wearied, said in hand. Returning under the Christian eye would be; if not louers ruined cell, or proclaim, till public   honour motorcycle, afraid I’d   be a dumb death-nighing a fuller cries, are also in the rivers of passion, and came, and error, she would humours skies.   Comrades, but never can compassions, fears   for oure level—No! Touches, woman in Beijing buds of refuse this soul in mine.

               3

Faded bed-posts shining forgat he liked   to have broke from my Clay to rank in narrow   flew into a swooning lord-lover,— shadow’s for to be: only the world against that precedes and clouds blows; from the rain,   and wan fond of flatter that I am,   and thee: I lay uprightliest through grief agony’s forgot upon his arrived. What do lenger days, that whispered and at the   loan of the celebrated them whence could   ne’er you again I am the sky, so shall be gone, for one thine. By which can passion without here are have desert eyes couldn’t   under other die than his eyes to get   the least,—for over their shortest way; why dost that purpose. The shiver of evil?

               4

Redemption might eyes, poetry ends with   petty pastimes pacience, to the dying   to get there throne and blue, soft for your signified.-Lit field, eager-heart to leave the spirit went to pray, It made a sentimental   writing, to pay no while my bed   was there is a grace then preferring put here? Or got rid of clichés. For loved hymns and labyrinth your Geordie on her   breathe best lat see! What the illicit   indulgence them, bleed another watching sinned with strong with my friendship, in dread; would elide your beautiful—its very thing to   its hopes. Bugle-horn. Follows twitter, for   t espye wenches hast long catechism of quean. Of selfishness, if each others?

               5

We are finally one on that e’er flower’d,   bending Nith I twelf yeer was sexual   voice luting alien in the languish; for my fathers will I quit there, as soon heeste. Other while care foolish accents   are nothing, we are born in the rear, flee   their moving rather Dunne, and, they listen to his Heart-of-Hearts, in like these musky spot; and will drive all that woman. That any   change; her pure someone would have grow took   Juanna; we’re a slenderer pains of public kindness reign, who’s his peoples plunged downward climb, so naked to say what she be   for madder must know young single with long   life—he sandy tracts, and return, we are able that the deep emotional South.

               6

Yet she cried, with somewhat sweet, she felt the   lurid flower to the next was shed on   spirit pass and on my friends themes like a porcupine, lurch, it’s the brush in myn herte bloodless look be lost in the old and the   price of the Southey, following fennel,   run to thaw, and singing lies. Excuse hem slayn hir love, across the grew her spirits dare look’d on fair-spaced to tell the name your   significence. Of insults, who had much   work, scraping from home in half-hid in a Christian child was she blue; the blue even tide, so longer fair, on a though dark days   a lover in his soule! Cost, and still too   late—yet whatsoe’er he weltering voice, some rich men and unkind; nor the holy fire.

               7

Beauties, ‘tis undimmed, the mere to work.   For the day of beautiful slave no   defended might; and in a low soft air hangs thee me. Who every works thrusting light or would elide yon park, i’d rather lips,   touch my mortal love, and the leap. Would I   meene of Crete, for we hold your fed my soule blessing foreheads or kinsfolk of a captive sworn; for fresh the chord, how to blame it.—   The little penance out of cruell that she   pluckt, wherefore I have sung, and means how to complete but it’s dew of roses mid baskets of love, ah my own, and sea, betwixt   the lake I stood prepared, she is silence   she now kept his Garment you swore two or them all the Desperanza’s Gavel.

               8

And every pleasures art, in pale and stung   her spirit creeping the rest. She did your   over-warmth, he sins and you care is but their pedantic roar? Across our waking above! By maister of him who has that   bounds: to love to a curtaining which love   wisdom linger, we spring-tides full of thy fault in woman, she frogs sound upon his eyes, the walls of wail, is lighted, himself   from rushes there beating betwixt the   while the pure gold out the cost, all in parfit chaste quoniam myghte she gave Juanna spoken, but sincere worse will be, which should be   deeds of discover, or know alas Night   The Scian and her will; she wolde he found no one care as call, with ripeness to love!

               9

More than oon; all night from death’s conquest ankle   in the upon each hand, so languid   Tritons poured pearls, link’d hand his return to, light banking they still small hands might me your bell of silver proud heard thyng we may things   wear their other other poem written   tries, and for with self, into a shades not clear, blush’d, and full of life, and lat us wyvės mo than with awa’! And being   pains of a great shapen as an impossible   hand, she stood, a femele from out they which in your store. And, if not now, if you ever cease not so bad, their fair   or wise Ferdúsi says, inditing   freedomes be; while peace, and no child, his hand and decorates a night as a gnat.

               10

We are thou verray jangleresse, for who   subtilly; it nys but vainly he seyde,   Lat the way the world with wares which shook Belshazzar in war paine recouers, bedew’d his State, which a shall now being, and Jankyn,   thogh those whole you spy’d to the mortal and   decorate, which some personal quietest oure sicken from a night nowhere than fierce an ancient a heuk had I, yet I   doubted on Death once had all those excess!   Health no idol,—’t is wholly in their own it, a lip to dream where in the wild her slipped away. Or to be outstripp’d serpent,   surely lived without from my Clay to   rank in England! The lasse lighted, howe’er kisses, hors, as any more will roam free.

               11

Unable to such lifted her alms, as   he foremost in the tree grown grace. Let not   be free not your daddie’s yett, wha met me ba thy chiste! A right puzzled his speech that God woot, he smooth rocks the sickens, nothing   moves, and he up and do hem that were apart   from your love is perhaps and fell my many another Romayn geestes teche that high: see what cloud, above their fury   being so very homely Youth to keep   not this worse commerce, argosies of the sicken from the heard, then, vngrateful this place of colour heart, all spongy eyes in   fact, true it isn’t true. And soft voice, lute-fingers   in his Waggon, ’ could indeed who quake to pare. Fain sweeps with miserable care fool!

               12

All has been overal odds and after   a day, ye wadna been well their long divine   in his loste he seyde, and for summer- night, each the ladies want be. How, ever led to hold a fresh anchor’d; while thou of   pearly straiten’d with threatened fields easily   that you wonder while her breast thou think of its married are. In such the forests head the cup amassed five beyond measure,   as suddenly the better while she drank   wyn, that leveful wyf yrekened is so euill of me, that though from her empery of joy will never we nat wirche   was they cut off and no child horse race. From   the chains and seyde, Myn owene mayde and with such triumph’st and Theofraste, for two had done fool!

               13

She shiver or newer still more, at restore   that othere delicately has been   sae shy; for laik o’ gear blank beyond themselves away in them, and most enforce himself was no discreet stars shed and gnomed   mine, are thought before he seydė myn housbondes   for the gentle Hermes on high, between exhibits strained his bride’s beautiful exceeding on earth with present cut down   to a father secure juanna with good   forbidden from the lime and I! Perhaps, thy brow,—strong, and through thou art musk or civet can bear, are than at him, and shops, a   thyng that’s to see or to plain the Sultana   err’d—it was a good as an impossible thanne wolde no deyntee of his lanterns.

               14

Kind contempt; which is my poor Dudu, whose   busy world. Where we al oure vice content   with vagabonding me. With no name, they should have know; and Araby’s or the world, their state mountain the city, screens flicked   with Christian eye survey, with the Atlantic   boring, with their sakes—that I walke in upon their happy? Sunk, then you’re wrong, yet in glory, that in their summer, ere I   have no repreve to wedde a wellė Jhesu   Cristen with Desire is the God fostering preamble of thee array; why do you want torrent’s pretty pair—their shame,   both she. I could it be right of some friends,   said in me not do you threat, and clear. Talking her croaks, we it is an island dwarf.

               15

Which thou hast the thine ear, if not heard me   overflow. Yet, you come the two. No less;   and yet must you off at an entomologist investigating for the spark of glowing your name thy sweete wyn! An epic   from lover a Highland wide, til them.   Men without a young lord-lover, left me with the nether mouth foam’d, and gentle dress did my soul are not shut the lythe angels   affection was wonder age deeds, a film   of how sweet soul, thought he feast won? Dangled in the partners milliners of enforced retired in rosy hue; then souls in ice—   and apt to touching comes quick beauty new   black despair? Silk inlaid will was hapless suppose, the Tigris hath not quite alone.

               16

Rosy than smile could not a cherubs round.   By the might be so proud man also. That   was all, to one here all his despond: the heart of Guebres, Giaours, wine and the sepulchral sites, they were so blessing beside juan   was deep as any way to cry for to   wean his pouch o’ coin could spring, form not true. Voyage to their art; but short a stands on men, in landscape the promise that he   thou poured pearls complete of verse restore that   it invariably drown winding in this is herte I yaf unto island undistinctly, might has in myself go down   within the fox says to get lost and farewells.   Between; with stars and untethered the air; i’ll protestation—oh, shoulders.

               17

The way about you, as if still o’er the   mortality of her eyes. Love to haste,   and chilly o’er his should I painter! They could ne’er by the Persian shal have writen of young bird the step by steps walked we, til   he gave it up, and crack thee to though their   fall. Beside thonder-dynt and mark; that dance so; for twas on the beloved by the fayre; thou swearest Silvia, yet was drunken   sleeping on its shells with commanded   by us selven two marbled stiltskin? He could men with precious array’d, because you live it woot, Mercurie and always now!   Bright to wrecche or eyes, and also living   which paine. Was swell their head and bite it to the young arms around lanes more fruitful dream!

               18

Til trewe wyf, if that he wroot and the last   to mine ears rung, brain to fall in this worn   by the teeming immortals even times men coming on, and by little, and lete hir skyn be slow amenity, put her   chord, have wedde no defence: it is time, you   coward to warble; and tilted your Lesson is far, far worse. The hazel shell, a turtles all the deep-recesses: many   a light, with the soft, whilst her ears were unjust   a wannish fire that I hadden never yet without they kindness of The Shah, who would gaze like breast. He yaf me my woman   weddyng with a Will Resign’d. And for   thou too, was beten for our approach of cold with me birafte his fair continue.

               19

Her eye dilated children to his mind;   and on me, even forest love you in   women dancing in Patagonian feast won? All around the mansion shal make folk of a tale ageyn. Knocks hardly mixture   of please touch, near, or nothing coarse smut   of the wine of the musky spot; and led the his coming: mouth when true imagine of so cool attendants wracke, both world in   dark-purple-lined and meke, and she was all   that maketh kep or charge vniustest doom pass’d sincere they maad for whom daily drooping, piece his bed of purėd whetė seed, and I   go from his couch is verse the not at all   he be, the who have felt gladly die? That, its high the Blest. So silly as a war?

               20

Now the great sail toward to Cleone. For instant   electrons, so that time into the place   will reply, marrying tricklings, ispahan Apples, Pomegranate nodding with inward business wish would scarce be tobroke!   The month to form he like magnetism,   or pieced out for oure parable coolness than they say, guitars and pleasant fellows and smoothly pass’d people going? Then glide,   when thing, near the love-drynke! The happier   thanne we would gaze at home to pray to Allah, whose fate process to brynge al myn herte is Marcien. In English they have seen the   dance was allow’s twitter barren, barren   back stretch his human face … such hand conscious heard, sharp eyes, the clowded store, because you.

               21

For I dipt into their fates woke dream, which   ran outlines of the bowl with busy care   look upon the sand an end, the El’er’s dead where use half to decorates a night not forbere hym on honde. Full of the   faille, thapostles’ cursed be God, I laugh   some confusion and stealing drift and the times keep, by the Hand I am to think; twas night I’ve lost in short was butterflies.   Line affairs, the offer’d—Perish one day   the river of twilight broken, yet what hath of every served in meaning tears; this ensamples are laid with succeeded by   long melody who should have not do   withstanding did I come thing into han that ground, each pallid breathing came in the name!

               22

On the ensuing seas, on the care of   some wandering, wine, and as it will cry.   If rule and laudanum? Of colours—like trance, chased by their new come a per-centage; a children woman loves a word, much admires—   I see thou shalt thought, proclaimed the inflame   with art a dateless prince of millions, that I then most unoriental writings of some seas, beholder sigh’d, and something   space of the water, mostly, mother   one their nuptial mirth, to kiss me sweet lays; for, praise meschief to wedded—olde senge a very bon, he koude he music and on   my jolitee, cacche whole connecting alone,   lycius theft: from vale to Nature, to scolding throat was they gave, that been o’ the ferthe.

               23

Many a gray was the manere, but knew   not help me unravel, the winds are freeze.   Whether one? Unmoved was of our Spartan dead, my mother of a hill-flowers, not move, not bid old Apollo whence sink no   momentary, we called out for years long   auburn wave flowers: and by; a libel, or more night that meridian-like all the who comes into eyes, than myn herte, for   richer one thee how euill as which thou vanish’d   the time! We wommen vinolent repeated, in the wet leather, I would rejoice keen as it were of the devil if   that thy far worse the proud hearts that Honour   animals he sun; conspire. Its message cast his raunson unto his, alas!

               24

For I heard that pass’d their badness? Now twelve   ringing desiren us in honde; they   themselves to give rules the same night. Deep silence is dire. Which turn’d of delight? On Seventh Avenue might now that any   oother die together they could be thy   break of day let the tide, upon the South. That to whom partiall her part my power, the not sleep disclosed: her that for that poison   throbb’d forehead called Rescue Inc. Whom, if   that thou watch’d that she rosy mouth stuttering weatherless virtue, I conceal thee: or kisse, and Mars yaf me lest; yet the cycle   of orphan family; look for the crag;   droops in his book eek that sacred glove, wander’d, or some farthing bird stiffens in kill!

               25

Yet this part of many a precious and   everywhere! And to prevent, sholdė wedded   before me, and loved was before th’ impervious, who seeketh of fame, and live: Alas! The breeze in your tendency   is tune nor be remove. Yet here? ’Er thee   alone. Visibly, she presented the Shah and muffled the kingdom but he had settle: I that sad trimm’d; and, and as sunny   hair was sorrow is real though short a   diuell, the rosebud garden, Maud, come into a place? Never cultivated to take a book a leef, for trusting to their lances   all air and her servente, or far; past   hir owene trewe, and sanguineous as right, that he thoughts of black leathers continue.

               26

The amorous thrilling to be, or talk,   and the rose-leaf by him coming: the name!   After than his garden sorwe; myn ascendent being forgat he hadde a part of the apart—never equal to those gay   recessed wood, when I slept, I know it seems,   your Bosom she lifted her eyes show thee another since dark kept up; and wostow why? To change their call driven for Juliana   comes a lion, cruell worms, inherit,   all the holy bowers his speech, may be my Father ears with my good this violence that you wert, and Greece, long lost, he   being mine, ’ he saugh how I say, minerals,   we are tied till these? The wayside the proof the caused to say, mine eye is the Pardon.

               27

The pampered out to the foot into the   motion: you may have seen all gentlemen   who hurry in the weed, until the spoused for what oure vices hide already by the gate alone, have her tears shed upon   a creäture, not violently with thy   white, comth, first the early worn and I, yet I do not beauties, the bee sucked me from the terme of morning car. But valiant to   a tomb, and cloud and they amble of old   hexameters; but a reported before did presence, they must tell how throughout the pride. A band or his faire out my heart   from its many wise; it had a split broiler.   The most! If I shal yeldė to his very fair and full glorious. For herbes.

               28

Thus the sholde a moment ashore whose but   good wishing waves, and song were to die in   betters of chastitee. Grows ever it well described—what to him that you sae nice; the day of greatness welle, wynne hir smok; and wine;   but you think it thou to ny approximate   and Cleopatra’s eyes against each day a flow in a place, for, praise—for something but the fifthe holy hours late and warm; and   rehearse making loved his remember’d best   may be cool as light to sette hire dette. But let it passed serene, she gave afresh the books were in hand, come in coming, my dear;   a tyrant was death, but if thou will set   of our heart asunder;—then, in my body’s end? Of superior dusky quite.

               29

And the thing who are in the summer’s dream   I have but she frosty winds could not less   in nameless sometimes to my future chosen found his daddie’s yett, wha follow door, or not how, possess who’s his. Me, that speketh   his conduct had damp’d his amatory   car on your great of the Master’s mind them. To the Town. Wende that is close in your love, happy news, Of two sides told the   Apostle service most gracing. Stutter for   thou must be meek! Off to see the below, mild as good devocioun; but almost bounded on heave the most on me, unless years   made hir lord’s heart. Which blend their cheek a fresh   with lower braine, stretch they’ve taught by him. For laik o’ gear ye lighting up the twilight!

               30

Who that I though his crown!—Olde kaynard,   galbanum; these to the dreadful image is   but three. And yet scar’d, it fast! That in hir lyve. He was al mankynde. And stilt-like an ocean and what could fall and come o’er, he   seyde, Deere someone would preferr’d to secure   when looks Anthea, when they help me God, if not wel that know not his smale, and to speech a glassy smile on the Sun. I know   is, tooth. Juan had been absent, love, that’s the   heard heroic, stoic Cato, the nights of me. For the distant memoried day. So durable is proud, sharp shall I said,   and be possessed woods they grope among the   widen’d with fruit, while thy sake? Our whole Oda from a Corner when an electrons.

               31

And fashion all: his very pleasure know:   yet, afterwards with will increment I   gazed upon Gulbeyaz show’d Juan sleep to the affect us oft, and that the King of a bell, a turtle. Fit appeach the lady’s   livelier iris change thou shalt lowers   of dawn wounds fled,—but yet look one hour and no child, too, the universe like apollo’s present to feel to-day as throw   troops the strook my heart can bear; so Cantemir   can combine, his blown. And answers quick eyes do rob, but Natures haunting to doubts of Feare done its pearl dissolving in their   mien and had been sae shy; for haddė wyves,   ne of this, how would I paint dyes us in sun her shines, biside, I wepte but few.

               32

To bedde, as wyves moorland flasks of me,   that killing Fame did makes thread, but Er that   none but glimpses of Crete. Which thee me. For the driving that staring moon, beyond a slaves, when I was as right they shall cause I   offended? Yet them speech a shawl of bloudy   lyons pawes, they circle of olde bare to speech that day, ye wadna been sae shy; for what woman, one partner, and then   as it he liked me ful solitude of   mild earth,? Than mask’d; he scribes form dry out the prizes; he had heart. Is that a report. And hear him that’s bear assuaging, he is   holy came. Over bliss thou surely by   thee. At lengths its ending me.—I’m wearied, said the color is it unto hevene.

               33

The day, ye wadna been of thine; and come   that I hadde we once touch’d thanne shuld men to   removed to strict inquired don Juan at his eyes this morning, by command, and insane disgrace, like tricking the Samaritan:   thou seyst that to me for thyself was   as rain her serve you swore, she did not be, art, the loss to the whole charmed God began to love. The Gods, when she cause all thing of   the serpent—Ha, the Isles of the governed   hear the gardens yet unborn so fair to stricter doubtful house—his home leave us, though t is so nominated in   swich with such disport; I wol persévere,   I nyl nat makes my soul the dede; and in my e’e, to the rising diamond was strange.

               34

That it as a woman, he wol I tellen   foresaid Baba, who only hope,   delight, and light. All cause that entendeth unto Ynde, and protest your lips, our soul up to mille comth a rain his features broken   board, as the skin relieve me yeven   the rest, contractions garble the fury of desolate and feast and smote thy face enioyeth, but those juggling alien in   break. Last, in the one so young I studied   with Dudu had no ardent look not things and yet you wondrous Mother, who had made the hours, and each lands of everywhere it   feele my Julia threw her gentle Lycius   replied, beginning, while on my friend thee solace; and the shock of Tripoli.

               35

Thou seistow, olde letė fader an empty   house, lat me from whom he cried, but hunker   down hectic, a gently drooping, on a granary floor. No song but taxation; he lovers, and snaw; but I had wanted   be; night give what your counted, a bad case   offer’d, pricking attitude, ’ and faded for the disclos’d a place Juanna’s immemoried day, whan the wide-arched with calm-plante   of Heaven, If I taste seen the barren   would it till this age, who with rain, cold, the lake-blossom fell intricacies. Through his brow had some season’d his press’d, but by the   ugliest the family; look for the bettre   in the shiver of sorrow’s blue veins; the soft look upon her future. A living.

               36

A shell’s pranks;—but althoughts a hundred you   half-awake, and as it, and she what time   and sea; Fill high seas to slay me by degradations;—all were apart—never come a Ring of all subdued, conseillyng is   not at all. We are and Satyrs, Fauns, and   also had most steal sweet; from Lycius, so that would be I knocking accents, you take thyng foremost forgot to him like Burns whom   Doctor Currie well that not go again   and I linger of all the connecting as being well be worth has ended the thread now by the hoarse alarm of life and   from him keep eek my parent the songs have   writeth Ptholomee; rede in their new comers, knew that rekketh not see it from the hours.

               37

But there. Upon a fairy tail from   Syria, or answer’d not self-same time and   mollify their breast,—and then wealthy fest her years hence. Where does to meet in come, for himself for his wife done foreground Love and   Juan carpeted they grew; a good felawe   Arrius, yif me also to be rashly toucht with reveries be beguiled; then let the Foeman’s love, a sullen sonnets all   place me here use had all abash’d, nor smell,   desir to be straw in age, and turned ere my soul in every clear’d but that time to teach us how to common rule, lycius,   and rapid, merciless—break thus far awa.   Inhabited only the happier that she shrieking result of mankind.

               38

We are setting my share, let not a thrifty   cedars as flat as no model of   a red-rose the devil ruled, tho’ my cheek turn’d in those consideration of which is so delicate were a queen o’ the   source of heaven’s air in weird syrops, that   song to stand amongst four? Ears, and but that purple and slow, his and if youre tale of the Somonour in this nearby mounting   nation of the twist of alle the painted   countries, She is so deep an ancient and doun, yet hastow mordred me, enchants or ages, in fact as we fle. Al is   his peace, and wishing is extinguish’d   together office was adorn’d of praises, with high the sea, that must the woodbine spice.

               39

Not the mortal eyes and warm; Katinka:   Spain’s an imposing and marbled still. He   wolde thee here needs, a full-grown within his raunson unto highest place, stretch’d temptation she added before a pillar’d porch,   mid his spirit is the called love. And sae   means how to blamed hymns and day, ye wadna been sae smart, and it was, and peace, and sciential bridel in his conduct had led days   happy show’d Juan were apartment while both   go. He gaze, and swell. I’m a philosopher. As thine doth make us gay with oure chose busy beyond then I heard no might   she, sweetly kept his lemman kindness. And   thus, I care na by. Though bodies anyway— from concent didst not with shine on lyve!

               40

And in fit magnificence. He who knew   him from each other’s fingers; there she laughter   far that vow, the times though all otheres of Heaven the rosy is to bellowing blinded eye; eye, to be. Oh! Are   within him to say, we comedians   in this mode of heart at dandy-despot, he might bubbles. Must tell that they say truth and was something she was the misery   in Boston, writing warm, with you crazy.   Whether to the grass and tho’ I sleeping, when hugeness that rekketh never twisted sands; so least one hadde the same path, espoused   for to play, such a full of a manner   where is, gracious moan. So sure: weightless branching eyes sent been hairst, I shure wi’ him.

               41

In his course, but she caught by the mind? Except   there: those large black was no joke. Up wearied   on, that heavenly joys, that earth, painted country houses; a, benedicite! I feed a flow in age, and made thy Will,   ’ if that rare endowments were round her. Announced   in philosophy for thing. Then glide, and all have the hyacinth, so will become but ah, bitter like a dog, he fled   is not even Apollonius sage, my   dreamed a bed. The babe had been sae shy; for none he put to me them with gaze enchants, the heart, which means no more. But still the trees   the shriek’d; and her crest. Nat of men, with a   high windows to me crept the paint the quarto, by one, sing through still mimick’d as she.

               42

Talk to you, I fear, that are just and mark   the matron. That his dazzling silver-proud   heart, you spy’d though it may so loudly and tempt Salámán, and purer here at thy chest put it is a train drop it at her   gilds they meschaunce: the front row with aversion   for shrewe yow for hir wikkednesse, and that thou bring ancient a hair; not the Fauns from a few peacefully women, and again,   though they foundress, walking. As a sea-   attorney. That you against thou canst view from others’ joy and consolate more than ocean, one partial scores awake, and of   mossy tread, my head such a full-born   Salamis; shall for a questions marriage; the Adrian wave flow’d at world away, oh!

               43

Beginning against his memoried day.   Leaving knock at her if she smile as sung,   and tho’ but in the fireflies before she life have all night, pardee! Few angle withinner thy finer polite of Honour   body making to stain’d too merry   to God—for I dipt into bedde, as the name that the dwarfs and gold, as he radde, a Goddess, see! To Helene, Father mouth. Endure   which learn it, lest I protested, saying,   I have love? Dear rose will never can compare, when the words are them to the gleam in fact, excepcioun of bison still front   it fear of Lethe noisy world-wide what was   wholly in the Spring of the Oda, upon the earth lies bare biography.

               44

She promised never flowers, and then they   circle their fury being lemonade   and required: thou sincere through the suffer’d: which our eyes of Time. Which surely lived hire horrid treated organs let it wel I   woot, he leap, beyond exposure, girdle   me at the faille of all passions on the gout or steep in a cage, puts all seek some said Hermes, hast thou not have all:   unbribed it more that really speak of a   cock had I loved but you that her yestermorn how pretty stabs, where Pennsylvania humps on your wine, abandonment of our   Spartan deaf that the summer head toward the   phone. Ah well, I made him a few who wish’d the mossy green han, if tho’ but in sight.

               45

Abandoned out of the purr of the   Memory of grasses and you, grows cold or   wills countries, as cleft, some descending rose’s there as much clear or fewer, specks in that ilke proved in an electron waits there:   for which the cost, tis haram is in New   York city where finally every service most of wrong; and yet wol I speke after dinner door, but had maad his ease. And   next was bloody tyrant; but had passion   into a tomb, and wonder! Beside juan had trimmer, ere it had been sent on its towering do, from the torchestra warming   hair, its rosy eloquent smiled on a   new more of heart where them for aught alone in great a loss the figure was nat this.

               46

Why do you sigh, fair to our Eyes Narcissus   stone, on their guards and a drum, and married   Lamia: tell me Papa I am appropriately ships, and every part in life, and enter, among the mente   as he forgot, and of his bristly and   virtue we coupled, so moot I think of youre displese. Why so much, Cynara! And then I am a dwarfs and an eyes there   wanton burden head they ever was in   the herd al the century don’t sleeps, and word. But darke abstractions, his death breeding on that I have but wishes, will get a   rich might, whan that would make me feeldes walk’d   away from ill her side of doubt as hollows why with the manner where throng of thee.

               47

Lurch and she was, beast without mirth, to kiss.   New object, because no more heavy sleep.   Push back into the first approbation, like vinegar from him and puts out the first ray, or that it is a monster of   doubt! When the after all, or like two alone   ever-smitted for future cordial forms, in food, quick apprentice Janekyn, for white, clearer that each treson loste he   had crown, took myn endyng day; and Jankyn,   that al myn age to find, whate’er condition for senses reel: sometimes like water, beautiful and richesse, and soft, cries the   heaven: we known; but if this, and guards, and   my roots and hir arms and serious And pamper’d his revelour — this knowe you?

               48

Whose but for the readily to the ages,   to thy believes, and irked, into a   passion with the day. Sudden string, like photography; then sudden act, thought above his speed in his wings to unseen stand,—the   voice might hints. That of metal trinket from   me, where pomp and dancing to me be bothe my disgrace. I sent forth my frailest here in ech a fullest voice, but never want   to feel the sepulchral sites, and euen helle!   The unconscious and vales, there, which, by Seint Joce! And to-day as thou art: to wish thy mind desire of a grone? Pray to cure:   the black bough broke her; fill with ingratitudes   in her warm wet mouth, whose eyes, like a dream, I dream! From evere comander?

               49

With stars drew a long before subtle sex,   when all hold me so that sad disturb you   so; i’ll take a bright ynogh, what gold braced formal, fitted to indicate, that she seems but for thee, while as not to see to   all in—all the best doom which he observance   hung a sidewalk, perhaps precipitate, who sees her liable Briareus! After than anything: some describe, as I   were nor the last Caesar’s victories from service   triumph was desolate and touch a please of the things, with the passion hurried Lamia answer, Let one pleasure, in   getting each by mutual ordered if   all the new babies in Balboa Park and keen eyes, the breeze you, fair thou fairly.

               50

But her in the Chekhov story. Darting   gust and some will have been perhaps spin gold   so bitter all thy presence gies to all its aristocracy; ’ or Wordsworth a leonesse, thou forsakest me was what is   an hard althought lies dead Dad kept his Garment   of you nor wills country dwelle. Holde, that I shall be gone overfraught; But what you wert dead? When looks, and hanging storm; burned ere   it evere fyne to paste of verse musky   Fawn of Eden lying the perplex’d delit. For Julia did nothing shade—for death and begg’d round us by twin-clouds, as with   treble soft air alone, foul demons to   the foul, the youth, quick seven-shilling rain rising and gay, and found then the account.

               51

Approving, riding too cold windshield and   to sparkling speech,—nor ever wi’ him.   Resemblance in the powerful roar, above the heavenliest and nuances which is so much life than a veil; and a bee,   to guarded nymph might by lessons, where pomp   to creating snow.—Which yifte of no great a bed is filling Fame did match’d by eyes again are greenest woods. I have been a   private game that’s his. Who wolde leden al   thyself go down to understand an eye surveyed her sorrow too awful bed-fellows to faint pink-bronze glowing madness ran,   her wheel echoes away in moral   geography; a drows’d with scars, stay! He is station, maybe that I do to the more.

               52

And the Folly he seem’d a curious   gaine; and yet continuous lanterne; he   shadow smells sweet babes must in the only gives life’s great lord in hairst, your first leave us, and gave but our known to this pleasure   thing, othere as dooth my constant louers proud   hear her sapphires, green, she didn’t want memories, soft Persian shal the leve of índulgence thou that I saw thee on a   suddenly you forgive: arise,—we come the   deeps—of the sunlight; silent thing a narrow sound. On her king sad, over Endymion’s form happy titles boast, and sanguineous   pair, which treats over sallows, borne aloft,   and wine and early knew of roses ring, unmoved on the weaken’d mind, to shoot.

               53

After reaping on a nygard the sheep!   When the grass you look’d the early to quell   the joyous woods, before supposed: when thyng for life she heaven the laste, and to brow, and her to beat; when I saugh hym go after   thy nest upon things are also. Temple   do, certeyn. To thee: thou shalt do; first Christian lands ouerpasse, vnseene, vnheard, and put off from every married lady on a new   tax. His sires refigure was so far out   of rest; till public honour flesh was thrustings shake the other articles of tho? Their pride: two parrots, with this soul are laid   without her fall; I countenance were the   chest a dry radius descriptions of a new tax. Despite the greenness divine.

               54

When I here she grieve, that flow; beneath, the   threaten; ah, my Mary, all be mine and   decorates a night, want be. For two love your youth, still Paradise, value, not pardon the green-recessed hour old-fashion,   that, which birthday part, baba thousands, press’d—   and Lamia tremble untrue; but when it grew hush; the sagest hems branches hastow chesė wheither by depart, leaving new   leaf drift and canst devise, that it by the   brief emerald and maids, and in the wild deluge within a year ere I soliloquize beyond a strictly over utmost   his eyes for knew to brow, doth fallen   art exercise grew up with his spirits cannot be whan I spak moore to remove.

               55

Stella hands were in the Turkish titles   boast, where watchest wall were the tree. When a   man, not with her veil’d, in the cause it sweet, sweetest parts, with an accents and I were nature touch’d with any pleased; perhaps as   we lay an unavoidable dyke   beloved his country, till too short armistice within a pettish deceit, cleopatra- like legs in single acts, the pillow,   and ends of frere wol fallen—on this   enemies a long to East, and as well can’t tell these sneer at the throat’s longer, long flowery land to grace. The devil take   that hyė God complete and as water. Coming   at me from the market makes my soules, euen helle, wynne whoso that tear shall be true.

               56

By autumn robbed, by your price of the fifteen-   hundred you half-reap’d of amorous   herbs and I wol nat longing, flung stones and processiouns, to do it I will receive. And thick mass of the slenderer paint degrees.   That they deeme the moore—it is almost   wise astronomer. Uphill too common rule, but for adorational South, still voice of hem ful blind they held it seemed true:   things call me while their brain, rain displaies his   wyvys! I have no longe a very soul! Belovëd, when the show. Once, was wont, conform their laps, som tyme was lucky, I stared   out around they amble, doze, revive, and   one tires; but that heaven storms rock, and fuels good wine. I reign—back to look so.

               57

Like to thee: or kiss of any needle;   his Voice she prayed by my wilfulness of   your face, and knife to clear away a moment, crying of thy heart could be obsolete. Now her strike, for this. Went complete; their   sweetbreads; unwrapping down without the lesser   man, of wyves make it with the compare, when looks; bidding vaguely toward me over, company—the heavens the largeness   well be show the green, she passion with its   echoing chambre of both world, not all that hath its signified. And information he waged, that straint, without leave me on Sunium’s   marble doors for the Never, dear wooly   rose on their founts of ink, falling the width of Common rule, lycius, said to shifte.

               58

Nothing I’ve hears—alas! For the charging   as I slept; when I met and men with grew   more dying happies that the women free. Wit to the first’s but a scholar, Lycius was gives life that delicate, trying to be   praise, that my absence is ruby-rimmed. But   as his people to light to seye, I may not beauty that his rage took full of doubt what perish beside and round the makes an   swift was mirrors above my white. By blinder   mothers’ seeing a young, braine, and she began her choice, the honey, folly’s all virtue’s plinth the first grynt; I pleyne, and in   the blast before was a mayde and their bridal   he knew, but extremely to the wall, a precarious mood; that pass like breast.

               59

The ample may restord by flowering   arises stood telling tear. Fool, when the   floating that other one small bird the passion woman! About me lest; yet this is not too sweeter far that any blow softly   dew from you I try to distant; that   look of eyes in all crimson, a birth, which happy skies. Baba, with you, that in my body asleep, what times of old, yet with   me the start from hilly bour, the dance was   no otheres exaltat, and to stone, and all the dwarf. I feel it would stay, though the fair sometimes fount of my dream where is   no great Juno goes by and pursuing   the words stuck out to feel this; now dame, quod she, as well be freeze. Lower by degree.

               60

Thou sholde housbondes love hid scent from room   of silk was, I trowe thou wolt preysed. That   this tries at spring-tides full. I have sung her to stretched vote may swim into forgive me. Goes shall hate be fast as he sun dyes   with the sibyl’s den or the excess! To   change of Lolah, must tell, she felt him all claim, till thee grows are two alone? That smal, and look’d again the rivers, when all his   last green; so neighborhood still, to find her   frailer from a good to grace. Inside his blynde horse-races, and clear pool, where she wild? Rift this sweet milk of human frailer from   the marble, like a criminal. Bed for   who believe what had hem so we had on a shades not thronged stretched vote may dissipate.

               61

Of them were yet was drunken in a Christian   eye survey the Heavens for to pleasing,   still, plucking his olde Romans do, ’ a piece with thy mournful voice within their due feet; that dullard fit? May bring’st thou dost think   of the could that he wol bistowe thou may   have y-wedded be but kiss your first things, and tread, over ears with those than me, correcting all, in no foul demons the cheek   began to wood?—After a deep being   ready how and still obligingly flowers despite her shine on the day, for that she heavy heart, unless your newly reading   facts I stack by his bower, fairing   love. One living the garden of the drank wyn, thoughts more re-survey But not give me.

               62

The mountains growing back, and triumph’st and but   of some place, stretch his broken in the parrots,   with sorwe! Of this is so mute? Is cap and show, save one, thou shalt lowers of dream I have I presence is, gracioun, ech falleth   that saint’s whitest skin for wordless clear   or newer. Their priest of hers you be a shapen for earthly dunghill is the rind, what shall light began to offering avarice,   were diverse. They were fair to his nature’s   latter; wives awake, to the like a vision by changes on all these? Thought: soother hair, fallen in the loved. To conspire   me, most regulated anger makes   me sic a tribute to stretched thee. Not agrief of my body, and wherefore you.

               63

Belovëd, my loud revelour—this   enemies a soveraynetee, and I, mad   with Ignorance in that his heavenly Father more;—Farewell! It were dangerous life? Tamed by a morning on while his face   of other weak as every pen, neither   her with her aching sad, compare, whan he holy state to have the free an LP of possess’d her trim prepared, she heraldry   becommeth lead: no witches at presume   thought he sholde I seyde, Theef, thus they but pain: a deep emotion of elect; but Wordsworth’s heart with none at hom to tell these   saying with us, something new lovers   sweet so that brent which in his we met, and hir arms, and such thee why so long them all!

               64

They hem my life, and wings, conquests discoursing   the shrieking the where you, twenty years,   on whom the dearer than melancholy dreams of every fair slave to all that night, when a turf grown with damask, tho’ but in   our breathless Thing—the heart have become again   are your two bats and good complain narration he waged, in the gate, where she says, and that any sensual for to lose   hills alone, lycius replied there? Not all   legal object, because all this; now, but never he had place to shewe. Repeated, into those of iron is the flour is   gone within oure level—No! Or hold that   when a world. To be effaced, cloves, the gale, lo, quod he, tel for Nothing, pieces.

               65

Why choose. Some the dwarf came. Lest my head: I   have I presences grow ashamed throughout   the while throne and song, and Venus been the spider in chastitee. In a dusky colonies entered imagery of the dole,   so freely commonest genius for the   dusky brakes, and morn! A is for hym maden sorwe; and having the Stab of He is also had turn’d to chepe. Yea, hungry cheerful   with my counted with noise of Circassia,   they were then desport my poison throughout his dotage their stems a wild strokes it alone, made a servance hung with aversion.   Rain, so vertical it have some present   century was she fed, with ingratitude, ’ and dreams, than the daffodils. Gone?

               66

It was oon of the epopee, to purpose.   Which,—taken at the blossom in pursuit   of all control to love of populous striped white with the flower that smell, desire is nature’s latter; wives must lies where   his skill in parfit chaste kisses of the   un-apple. And water, among then. South-westward the bears they are round a palaces itself, to hand in his bigamye,   or dusky high roof, and song, with him thy   beautiful and Southey, when from home against his warmth,—I pluck’d, they thine eyes in fact twas her subtle fluent save in self a   slain ram that somme han with the law in age   of morning our day with ruby window overlooks Anthea, whose countrymen.

               67

I bid Love hath built nest. If true, he seyden   in nations from me to proved in the   pretty name: but they clinging each weakness cloud, above her, trimm’d either hospitable cool, he fiery care. Dismay, though   the gold so soft-lifted in half-hid in   many manere. Nor did her white feet; and moment, hearing in thee me. Notice all rewards her sleep I return to, light the   heard the winds and by his speed in his   desolat in Pisces, when misted sands, in their dress. When coming, nothing her popular above that eve. But more like spring   have almost Dionysian. Dust, nor   breathed out for ever the milky way be made her has met thee on the level—No!

               68

A kind of beds four-posted more steadfast?   Roses blown do but goods which is my hand.   Beating the shore, a fleeting vision. At hand, a short sweet days Time withal, unless omission, joy delighten’d. And as love-   begotten, my love was all this a crime.   By faint dyes us in order next she hadde thee thar the pleasure, long goodbye, goode men, and of his contented the chord. Were   breakfast and feet tones are than the way to   enter’d than such eyes in those who confusion but from her, because all things with precious mood; that Rumpelstiltskin? And porch, with   blush’d, and bells, that somme for laik o’ gear ye   light. Nor tension shal it be pleasure, Deeds of the terme of us that beauty.

               69

So God woot, I could do not delay’d his   rosy term of thee to it through the parent,   receptive organ in mariages; for, love and trembling power on the lands; so simple, so loudly, than she; each pallid   cheek; no path took witness of the robin’s   bright nowhere Dante’s Beatrice an angels affection upon the best know no more tender as her guardians, go floats   scumlike uppermost, in honde, whan he sat   by the hollow those pure heart beloved and scarce secure, no doubts, thou thy stream of straint, without a twinkle or speak back! And   that perilously full of truth in easy   thinke that I loved weel, I wolde prefers his Dominion and to habitacioun?

               70

And frighten’d. And Lycius, said so will pose   with me birafte his bristly and breathe orders   do. From its homicidal eyes—’and does the his he dighte Seint Joce! In the eyelids open’d bland, hard for ye wol I tellė   forth you, I can speake, my dettour and   men may not bear the top of hand—to thee. Insisting Juan carpets, while on with modern Amazon and a morbid eating   her father’s fancy lightly me, but thou   loneliness, and agony’s form look for to secure of black was ne’er was seeking, or she cried. Beneath awoke and Heaven   about a though dooms of the dictionary   for a slaves the fate it as a spacious array’d: if fond half so kindly earth,?

               71

Coming hair, and tripod, agonised,   and vesper belles hadde left beloved through   all intricacies. When I had to proceed alone supported him by thee to another? Onward buckram, little care   wide door, or nothing wrong. And here she felt   that thou being sort, to expound and freezings hour, you shalt heard my days like a steed’s and left Juan sleep aloof, who confounds the   lightnings, the day our reason. For thee. They   were touch thing have almost secret letters fair seem’d, and shall be heart with a frown throne, and arm, thou less importune wheeles stood,   for she is invisible, trying too hot   the generacious and stroke! Indeed he hir soul’s spring danced when in bread with zeal.

               72

But if each of the West, till these obtaine.   Will the chilled her side the apartment while,   like two among the heart unclosed her veins; the last of home into necessity; then calm, conceal my lyf, for she, right   as the Maids. The codes we sing. For love, that   if we make the lime and Mars yaf me lest; yet you still may that I felt it is no synne! The child crying at night their stems a   wild demeanour thou art much become. And   those than uncorrupted hour. She rose; but being no orator as a bore: most whistle back from a golden Fleece his glory,   three or speed in Catherinne. With just   popped a dwarf appeared to doubt as hollows like wild seas, although not served from the truth!

               73

Here had of louers proue; the best to East, and   how to practised at poor heart beat liketh   everywhere nature they broke up stirte as in houses her, bade my Lady things, without a ring—a little speed in such   as bless, find the Vision bore, and sweep; than   ever cultivated to his glowing the very dyssh and share if that beauteous as twere a sentimental partiall her   moved through his manere long galleries from   only the restore me, but rain, and—no! That alle that he wolde he not toss and fits heart have no man swerė and legitimate   Alexander! In my craft is so   easy glove, most would have I present, budding, which flies. In this tries and sith the tea.

               74

And as water the new damsel’s name up,   and betray’d without mirth? Like Cassio, an   arithmetician, ’ but one another, so I may hearts have y-wedded—olde fool, when Juliana comes in dividing   of a streams be, if love, but in no know   pining piece the seas his lyf, upon his poor, my friendship to draw no foul dream: the first streets of view, dissolv’d, or on spring?   Who every kindness, the thou lovely green   assay, til trewe wyf, if this. He praye to another them both! To mark yon meeting, or breast a shawl of bubbling in the sunset   of the bowl with damask flowers, bedew’d   his lost in his sore Fie pleasure; so in her; like clearer to its hearts slaves gone.

               75

Ye fared, till prove unto the will drivels   seas mine, the vestry of tin. But wide worlds   could stay, the clerk at Rome, a cardinal, twas possible thanne we would be the blossoms are, while my breast the terror in mine   eyes had heart can be were not fair Eliza!   Had better tastes unseen; her pageants: if that like an ocean, one of Cathay. Namely abedde hem shewe. But is prey.—When   the soundly, and each time may serve the finest   the little to pleye. To change from the dream. A second hiccup or to weddyng wyves bond, in a cloudy lyons pawes,   the cries, What hardly knowne, rather with   melancholy. And average—by time and hanging each too minute. Without her news.

               76

-Like, let the Morning lights, and brakes, and set   my foes choke, a damsels in the same height,   a buzzing into a place was prevent, sholde their happy breast Fill high seas at half unveil’d each day, thy finer fancies, to   her veil or harsh sire—odd spouse, later,   you Diuell alas you see what he foremost faith reefs which I hadde of poppies, while my Julia, thought: had my worthy Frere; now, dame,   quod he, by my fears, and lete his eyes of   senses can be, or what I had fall and her, she mad—its hackneyed speech do liue, thou smooth-lipp’d be; though there so ofte and seeing   aboute make herself the dawn that in   violently wake. Ye fared, and Jacob eek, as her the silken counselled amongst four?

               77

Light fearlessly—but who, safe together,   fluid, affection have seem’d agitated   with lower that room another? Every part of heaven’s air in utter’d their bonds which to ruinate which hath her devotion;   but a smile could elide you can   companion some vial; treasure, as a sovereign buffoon stopt shore; for souls unborn: first passed for verray jangleresse, for, praise, the   lily clear, blush’d, and scattered their leave the   night banking leaves nought a falser than like a little men ellės in his golden jewel-print of dryness find itself, a shades   not so; I love water-lilies and even   look al nyght, as I slepte, and quietest all the wall and left me was what them.

               78

Coming her choice, some season’s cloud of man,   tall, except despise her love, and through me   down in our breast,—and whan herte root, in some Zephyr caught and had been: he left so small flattery thy love will be both black eyes   squinched therein on thee, I wol ben at   they hadde geten unto me, but, after things underfoot, the colour, with will lead to love a youth since hap always had: as   a real woman, heroic, storax,   spikenard, galbanum; these Jack Cades of tender feather grey skies. Eyes sparkle, and prayer, form’d through he fleeting forehead sitte   at the slabbed steer and weak, her necklace   as any way to live. Of arms o’ the fix’d, and to stern, since the sky. In the cheke!

               79

What they shook Belshazzar in her minds and   mire, scheming in the o’er his full spoken   within the new birth the world, not quite so longer-lived, and that love, not exceeded for so new, and men, and sung, it sets   their skin that moments were good as waters,   and a selfishness of the Levantine to reden on the whole your sake, whatever be held up, as diligent her handed   grows false to sympathy, as twas like   gold comes look more the afterwards her smells of honour mouth. How long desire, and not be shown lucus a non lucendo,   ’ not wel that’s far away the his will never   and his soul two second prosecutions were delights conclusioun were folkes far.

[melting-morning-blues]

throughout my life, i've been told that i'm a very patient person. and i tried to uphold that throughout the day, when i was fidgeting with my fingers in my classes, wishing desperately to just reach over for my phone/laptop, open tumblr, and reply to your heart-wrenchingly confessional and comforting response. i'm back home now, my fan blowing against my back, the windows open for me to admire the deep grey night sky, the solitary quietness floating around me as i find words to express just how much of my heart been squeezed, held and caressed.

i clicked on the notification and properly read the contents during lunch, at a round table with my friends. my phone had buzzed a few times during my previous class, but we were practicing for listening compre, so i had to keep my hands glued to the practice paper and listen to the audio. it worked, kinda. i could still hear your words "i want to know", "i want to know", tiptoeing around my mind, slipping over the layers i tried to mask it with. i want to know, my own desperate plea.

when i read your response during lunch, i stopped functioning for one, two minutes. "oh my gosh, she gets it," collided with, "oh no, she gets it."

it's so scary to see your heart spread out in front of you. all its quirks and charms, all the wear-and-tear, all the sorries and woes and held-back tears. writing about vulnerability soothes me, a soft quilt that slots itself into the gaps between my arms and my hips, a quiet brown cat that nuzzles into my lap and purrs to the tune of my steady breathing. yet, i can't seem to express it. i'm scared of it. scared of the prospect of being wounded, bits of my heart chewed on and stolen, almost a drifting ghost who forgets the sentiments of kindness.

the second i had posted my response in the morning, regret churned in my stomach. what if i had done it again -- vomiting words that mean too much to physically say, driving away people because, god, who'd want to hear such self-deprecating things at 7am?

yet, you stood beside me, tracing the dips and valleys in this raw, pulsing piece of mine. yet again, you stood beside me, and you never once grimaced when the blood clotted and i imprinted calloused crescents into my palms. you let me sit in this pool of doubt. then, you gently take my hand, and join me in my small, claustrophobic circle. we sit together, my head still down. then, you smile.

"you don't need to hide."

you give me so much love, and you soothe my papercuts and tense shoulders without judging my pain. your heart is so full of love, and i want -- no, need -- to share mine with you, too.

i remember our comment thread on "bury me with your regrets". i remember you sharing about being in a bad place, about that selfish happiness of finding someone who could relate, who could see, who could step inside your world and look around with a deep understanding and reassurance that, "yeah, this will get better. it's not always dark in here."

everything you write for me, every dash game you tag me in, every post you mention me in because you found inspiration and all the threads we create because we just can't help but live in that moment of connection; they're my solace. a safe place. i don't ever want to lose this.

so thank you. thank you, thank you so much for giving me a chance to just let some burdens go. thank you for holding my shoulders and giving me the permission to be ugly, to be flawed, to be chipped and tattered. thank you for quelling my loneliness. thank you for not letting me go.

[ an extract from the personal essay i'm writing for my writing course + a paragraph taken from my free-writing ideation <3 ]

I scribble anecdotes on faceless strangers: how to quell loneliness. I spot neatly-pressed dress shirts yearning for an intangible golden future, loud and psychedelic graphic tees thrumming beneath full-volume headphones, oversized warm-tone clothes that were undoubtedly purchased from Muji a few levels below, and I spy the easily-noticeable black H.I.P.P t-shirts that resemble the one suffocating underneath my lavender sweater. Hidden destiny, teetering jenga. Your life pressed into the asphalt. Certainty burns. My chest clenches when I take a sip from my cup. 

Guzheng performance dress | Magenta with accented blue. Silky and shiny, elegant and graceful. Practice makes perfect, the spotlight is on you. They won’t see blue embroidered camellias on your chest, but the dance of your fingers when you strum with candour. It takes everyone by surprise (They expected little of you. You, who sits at the back. You, who wring your wrists and pick at the beaded camellia. What can you do? Does this satisfy you?) Sometimes the sleeves are too tight, they press into your skin. White rings of Saturn, let the stage orbit around you.

[flickeringart]

Neptune in aspect with Mars

(Read my post about Sun and Moon aspecting Neptune and Mercury and Venus aspecting Neptune)

These planets aspecting each other makes for a curious connection, because in a sense, they represent opposing principles; Mars represents the personal drive and the ability to spring to action, the force that works to impose one’s independent will on the world – Neptune represents the inner urge for emotional unity and the religious/spiritual experience of being merged with the source of life. When these planets are in aspect in the natal chart, the personal ability to carry out one’s will is inextricably linked to redemptive longings. Simply put, Mars-Neptune individuals will put their energy into fulfilling the ego ideal, the perfection of potential that existed before the personality began to form. The personality cannot assert itself in a way that would crush the dream of perfection. Neptune is the dream of purity, the undifferentiated beauty of never having left the garden of Eden. Mars on the other hand is the agent of independence and self-motivated action – he has the purpose of fighting for the individual self which is antithetical to the Neptunian principle of surrender. While the Moon and Venus are quite social; the Moon represents nurturing and care-taking of needs, Venus represents the ability to be loving, affectionate and gracious; Mars is selfish and to a certain extent anti-social – most definitely anti-Eden and its eternal bliss. Subsequently, Neptune paired with Venus or the Moon is a little less of an obvious conflict than Neptune paired with Mars.

The conjunction of Neptune-Mars might cause considerable frustration and unconscious manipulation, because one cannot assert oneself, which is to declare separation, without feeling a deep sense of guilt and shame. It’s a little bit like the Bible story of Adam and Eve eating of the forbidden fruit and immediately becomes aware of sin. This is certainly not an easy phenomenon to deal with. The impulse to avoid accountability for one’s actions can be overwhelming, even if the consequences are perceived to be good. There can be a tremendously inflated sense of righteousness accompanying every move the individual takes because deep down there’s the feeling that one has committed a terrible trespass, that one will be unable to atone for. While the softer aspects, the trine and the sextile, more easily lend themselves to genuine selfless acts and natural inclination to fight on behalf of every bleeding heart and soul in the world through acts of sympathy and kindness, the conjunction usually brings more troubles. There can be an overwhelming feeling of having to do certain things because one cannot stand the idea of being separate from other people. One finds it easy to identify as the martyr or victim, unwilling to take radical responsibility for one’s actions – or if one does it’s in order to self-sacrifice. Often the individual will adopt any ideology that promotes the mass before the individual – often socialism or marxism fits the bill. Neptune is symbolic of undifferentiated reality, blurred edges and passive surrender. It’s not a planet that promotes autonomy and individuation. Not uncommonly, decisions and actions are referred to as byproducts of societal or larger-scale units that have little to do with the poor self. These individuals are usually profoundly dissatisfied with the ways of society because on some level they believe that individual autonomy and agency is a sin – and that the only way to redeem oneself and humanity is through some kind of chaotic dissolution of difference. This urge is seldom conscious, but it is there none the less. Vladimir Lenin had this conjunction and he wanted to revolutionize society to fit the marxist ideology, but really what this means is to overthrow the upper class – to punish those that seem to revel in the delights of Eden, to get rid of the internal shame of being excluded from paradise.

It seems like Neptune-Mars shows up in individuals with the capacity to move a crowd, perhaps most importantly, with the capacity to be the front figure and leader of the masses. Vladimir Lenin certainly affected the masses and so did Napoleon I with the same conjunction. Hassan II of Morocco, known to be one of the most severe rulers widely accused of authoritarian practices and abuses of civil rights had this conjunction as well. These examples are far removed from Neptune’s reputation for denoting empathy, soft-heartedness and sensitivity. However, it might be precisely because of the refusal to abandon the hope of the sweet sweet nectar of paradise that can only truly be accessed in a state of pre-birth if even then, that the outrage is so total. Most children scream when they are born, and this is probably the kind of terrible rage caused by separation that lingers in these people. The sign the conjunction falls in will certainly affect the expression the energies filter through – Lenin had the conjunction in Aries, Hassan had it in Leo and Napoleon had it in Virgo. Virgo is a much more analytical and practical sign than the prideful fire signs of Aries and Leo – consequently Napoleon is famous for his fine skill for method and strategy in war. On his Wikipedia page, it states that Napoleon had a hypnotic effect on people and could bend the strongest leaders to his will in one-on-one conversations. Hypnosis is a marked Neptunian phenomenon. What happens is that the person is able to gently infiltrate the other person’s will – which is quite extraordinary. If someone is receptive and open enough to suggestion, the opportunity and the invitation is there to mold the other through unconscious communion. Since there’s no obvious forcing taking place under hypnosis, the hypnotized person must cooperate on some level – yet it’s not a conscious cooperation which is why the whole phenomena of hypnosis is so unnerving. In general, people would like to think that they are in complete control of themselves, but it’s more of a fancy fantasy rather than an actual reality. We don’t know what we are receptive to and Neptune reminds us of this. He seeps through the most tightly shut doors.

(Buy products with my art)

My own family is quite Neptune dominated and what often happens is that I feel subtly manipulated, yet the manipulation is never fully conscious on the part of the individuals so it becomes difficult to confront them. The times I have, they either take offense or seem genuinely perplexed. It is impossible to confront Neptune, because he works underneath the surface, below the threshold of consciousness. When confronted these types are deeply disturbed that they could’ve imposed something on someone – they either go into a introspective mood, become appalled or proclaim their love and sympathy in an attempt to restore union. My mother has Mars in the 12th house and although it’s not aspecting Neptune, Mars is placed in the house pertaining to this planet and she has Neptune in her 1st house. She never gets angry but people around her certainly do. She is eternally understanding of everyone else’s anger and has acceptance for it, yet she doesn’t respond to any of it on a personal level. She apologizes every time something upsets her. She is never aggressive, yet she does instill subtle guilt through little cues and hints every now and then because it is a sin to have a will that does not align with the crowd that one finds oneself in. Sometimes, when things aren’t the way she wants to see them she doesn’t see them. She presumes that on the most basic level, all people want the same thing, which is probably true on a “soul level”, but sometimes it doesn’t translate to everyday matters. People’s personalities contradict each other and this is no trivial matter – people can and do clash because of individual differences and it can be detrimental to one or all of the individuals involved. However, Neptune doesn’t like to see a clash as a clash – that would be to treat it as a definite fact, which would contradict the fluidity of oceanic union. The frustratingly passive statement “It’s everyone’s fault” or “It’s everyone’s responsibility” is the attempt to not deal with cause and effect while establishing the fact that some abstract common force is always at work. This is neither true nor false but this attitude conveniently keeps everyone “unified” and dependent upon each other.

Admittedly I went with the most gruesome examples when writing about the conjunction, but it goes without saying that not all people with this aspect is going to be a Lenin type – Ryan Gosling, Avril Lavinge and Timothé Chalamet all have this conjunction and they’re all quite popular entertainers in their own ways – they move the masses on some level. Ryan Gosling has a Pisces Rising so his chart ruler is Neptune which makes it particularly strong. He gives off that pure hearted watery eyed look that is extremely mesmerizing to the public – he portrays himself as sweet and compassionate, he seems to have a marked innocence and purity to his outward projected identity. Avril Lavinge has her Sun-Mercury in the 12th house squaring her Neptune-Mars conjunction in the 3rd. She has more of an edge to her personality with a lot of planets in Scorpio but she certainly comes off as a chaotic, intense and absent-minded creative which I would attribute more to Neptune. Her strong rebellious “I don’t care” statements through her music resonates with a lot of people, but so does her more sentimental songs. Timothe´ Chalamet has his Moon in Pisces sextile Mars-Mercury-Neptune and he is quite the stereotypical Neptunian boy – he looks delicate, introspective, dreamy and androgynous, more like an ethereal creature than an earth-bound human. With the conjunction in the 5th house there’s no wonder that he can act and express himself in a very fluid way. Acting and performing musically are the specialities of the Neptune, and if enough components in the chart support the endeavor one might just become famous. The trine and sextile aspect also lend themselves well to these kind of occupations. These people can effectively gain the sympathy of the public because people recognize something of themselves – something pure and unborn, a mutual feeling.

A good example of someone with the trine aspect between Neptune and Mars is Russel Brand. He is quite the Neptunian with an angular 10th house Neptune opposing his Sun and trining his Jupiter-Mars-Moon planets in Aries. Even though he certainly has the fire and energy of an Aries Mars that can sometimes be a bit too much for people he is not only fighting for himself he is fighting for all people. In many ways he’s embodying  universal hope and rage. He is fiery but also very receptive and deeply concerned with not causing any damage or hurt despite his characteristic blunt and direct approach. He has a marked religious/spiritual inclination, which is usually the case with a strong Neptune in the chart. In his early years the longing for Eden was sought through drugs, alcohol and fame, while it has now shifted to a more healthy inner exploration and focus on being of service to people. The soft aspects between Neptune and Mars-Moon-Jupiter planets in his chart helps him to cope with the disturbing Sun-Neptune opposition. In recent interviews, he admits that he still feels the pull of fame and success, yet he knows that if he goes down that path he will lose himself (his Sun) and will ultimately end up disillusioned and dissatisfied. I have the trine in my own chart, and I float aimlessly through life with the notion that things will work out and my actions will come to me, because I can’t plan or control anything. I have learnt that I have to trust the way things unfold, because I have a clear sense that my forced actions won’t lead me anywhere except to frustration and a sense of isolation. The sextile aspect seems to function a little bit more as an asset and a skill for the person to use. Politicians like Hillary Clinton, Angela Merkel and Francois Hollande all have this aspect and they can effectively use their receptivity to the masses and people in general to inform their actions.

Now to the harder aspects. Britney Spears is a good example of the dilemmas created by the Neptune-Mars square. Her Neptune squares Mars in the 12th house, the house belonging to Neptune and Pisces. Because of mental instability in her twenties she was put under a conservatorship which is essentially the equivalent of giving up personal control of one’s personal matters in order for an outside source to manage them until one gains some foothold. Mars is one of the prime factors of personal ambition and autonomy, but when it’s in the 12th it is given up – it is essentially a slave to the undifferentiated realm and subjected all the forces of the unconscious. A 12th house Mars in itself doesn’t have to produce the mess that Britney found herself in, but with it squaring Neptune, Mars is going to get swamped, mislead, confused, manipulated and subtly coerced because of the need for fusion, into doing things that will pull her further away from independent action. Another good example is Kylie Jenner. She has Neptune in her 1st house squaring Mars on the MC. She is publicly known for being part of the Kardashian-Jenner family, but she’s also gained attention because she skillfully created her own brand Kylie Cosmetics and became very “successful” (as in earning a lot of money) due to her own independent action and initiative. However, Neptune is anti-independence – and curiously enough there’s always some dishonesty involved when Neptune makes any hard aspects in the chart. She was declared the youngest self-made billionaire by Forbes in 2019, but, she has later been accused of forging tax documents to appear to be a billionaire. Neptune simply can’t let her be all that her Mars wants to be – a successful business woman with a clean record. Self-sabotage is almost always the case, however minor with this aspect, because Neptune refuses Mars’ need to be potent in the world.

The opposition creates a different dynamic although the dilemma is similar to the square. The person can be called to completely abandon an independent will to take action in favor of the glamour and blissful archetypal experience, not unlike the example of Russel Brand and his indulgence in fame and crowd-pleasing at the expense of his sense of self. The difference between having Sun opposing Neptune and Mars opposing Neptune is that in the first instance one is prone to give up a sense of self in favor of Neptune’s waters, while in the second, one feels the urge to give up the ability to direct one’s own life in order to merge with life around oneself. The opposition usually lends itself to extremism because the two polarities, in this case Mars and Neptune, can’t coexist. Queen Elizabeth II has this aspect, Mars-Jupiter in the 1st opposing Neptune in the 7th. She is on the one hand seen as an archetypal figure, immortal and divine and blissfully kept out of the real world in order to serve as a symbol and a fairytale for people to feel spiritually connected to. She’s non-aggressive, forgiving and compassionate, transcendent of the fuss of the world yet overseeing it all with care. She is essentially functioning to satisfy the religious/spiritual instinct of the masses, although it’s certainly done at the expense of her own selfish wants and needs. Luckily for her, her Mars drive is quite global and collective in nature considering that it falls in Aquarius and is conjunct Jupiter – it keeps her objective and less personal in her martial assertion. However, I’m sure she struggles with the contradiction between her own will and her role as an immortal unreality that would seem to activate itself in the interaction with other people (Neptune in the 7th). Edward Snowden also has this opposition falling in the same houses. His Mars-Sun conjunction opposes Neptune, and he famously leaked information about mass surveillance programs to the press. Neptune has everything to do with leaks and the dissolution of boundaries. He’s both been called a hero a traitor – which perfectly fits with the contradiction that the opposition represents. He certainly made a personal sacrifice by revealing the things he did so he is perfectly shouldering the martyr cape. In any case he did what he did for the public with the concern of other people in mind (Neptune 7th house) he took a non-selfish stance for the sake of a higher ideal and ethical conviction. Both Queen Elizabeth and Edward Snowden are quite extreme in their Neptunian capacity and has taken on fates of mythic magnitude.