#something something the desire for a character to be happy often leads people to divorce them from the context of the narrative | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

euhemeria · 2 years ago

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Listen (With My Fingers)

“Picture Monaco. It’s late, but you’re still awake. Maybe the mission has left you restless, maybe you took a long hot bath, enjoyed the jets, and you’re just now turning in. Maybe,” Angela leans down, over her, not touching, quite, but close enough that again, Fareeha can smell her perfume, “You dreamed of me.”

Fandom: Overwatch Rating: E Category: F/F Characters: Fareeha, Angela Warnings: None A gift for @sealfarts, tender smut with dirty talk, fantasy and guided masturbation. Also on ao3.

Absence, people love to say, makes the heart grow fonder. Fareeha herself has never been entirely sold on the idea; absence, after all, was a factor in her parents’ divorce, and put a strain, too, on her relationship with her mother, growing up. This feeling was further affirmed by her last major break-up, wherein her then-girlfriend accused Fareeha of being fonder of her work than of anyone else (an accusation that, Fareeha can now admit, was far closer to the truth than she was ready to accept), even if the absence then was more emotional than physical. Before Angela, Fareeha had nearly resigned herself to never getting married, with as much travel as her job requires of her, and was learning to content herself with that.

Fortunately, with Angela, things are a little different. For one thing, Angela is as married to her own job as Fareeha is, was very upfront, before they ever began seeing one another, about the fact that her work will always come first, as she feels she cannot be happy if she is not fulfilling her purpose and saving other people. To hear that was something of a relief to Fareeha, who feels similarly about her role as a protector; no one job is necessary for her to fulfill it, but she knows already she could not be happy with anyone who would ask her to stay at home when she feels she is needed in the field. In that sense, absence is good for them, because they could not be happy, if they were always together, would necessarily be sacrificing a major part of their lives.

And it is good in another sense, too—or refreshing, at least. Angela, usually hesitant to initiate anything, for reasons Fareeha has long since accepted as not something not in her own power to change, is always just a little more eager, a little bolder, when they see each other again after a long parting.

(This is not to say Angela is shy, normally, or unwilling. She is very willing, and quite skilled at quiet seduction, offering a silent invitation to take things further in the way that she kisses, her hand shifting to the right place on Fareeha’s thigh, and her body lingering against Fareeha’s own just a moment too long. It is not the wanting that is the problem, or even truly the initiation—she knows well how to turn a quiet moment between them, her hands running gently through Fareeha’s hair, into something far more charged, does so often—just the putting words to wanting. She does well enough at expressing her desire in other ways, however, that Fareeha did not initially notice it was something Angela struggled with, not until she was told. Now, of course, she notices, and appreciates the days when it is different, but she has never felt undesirable, or undesired.)

Tonight, after a week apart, and several days thereafter seeing little of one another, busy as they were with various projects, Angela speaks plainly.

“I’ve missed you,” says she, when Fareeha settles down on the couch next to her after dinner. This is often what she leads with, when Fareeha is away, and she calls her late at night.

(Have you now? Fareeha usually asks. What part of me? And Angela will indulge her. Your lips, she will say, on the nights she wants them to act out something gentle, something tender; Your voice, she says, when she wants to take charge, The way you say my name; Your arms, on the nights she just wants to be held, after all, but does not know a better way of articulating it; Your hands, when she wants Fareeha to take control of things, to say all the things those hands could be doing; Your ass, every now and again, when she has had something to drink, and her inhibitions are lower. Under that last circumstance, Fareeha prefers to let her down gently, encourage her to get some rest, lest she wake hungover, even if Angela long since gave her standing permission to continue those conversations.)

“Have you now?” The invitation in her voice is audible as she wraps one arm around Angela’s shoulders.

“Mm-hmm,” Angela leans in against her, starts tracing one hand idly over Fareeha’s jeans, fingers just barely ghosting over the area above her knee. With Angela’s head on her shoulder like this, she can smell that, for once, her wife is wearing perfume—the nice one Fareeha picked for her, not the simple one she throws on when she is heading into a formal situation that calls for it. It is lightly spiced, clean and summery, but not floral, as sweeter fragrances suit Angela not at all. “I haven’t really had the chance to talk to you in a while.”

Talk? It is certainly not what Fareeha expected, not what she took Angela to want, both from the words she chose and her body language. Her tone, too, is the same low one Fareeha has come to expect, when it is something besides conversation she is wanting.

But, also, “We spoke on Wednesday,” she points out. Rather at length, in fact. Angela called for the usual reasons—well, the usual 03:00 reasons—and Fareeha, done with her mission and just waiting for morning before flying back to base, was happy to indulge her, kept her on the line, and on the edge, for far longer than she normally might.

“You spoke,” Angela corrects. “I listened.”

(That is underplaying her role in things, a bit. Certainly, Angela was not the one leading the conversation, was doing as Fareeha asked, but she did so beautifully, and the sounds she made over the phone—played up a bit, Fareeha thinks, for her benefit—were absolutely captivating, and more than enough to satisfy Fareeha. Listening is passive, and she was not.)

“Was that not what you wanted?” They have gotten good at this, over the years, at reading one another, and satisfying one another, but it is still better to check—that, too, is a part of their communication that has improved. It takes a certain level of comfort, and trust, to say I’d like to do things differently next time, and to receive such feedback with an open mind.

“No, it was,” Angela is quick to reassure, “But I’ve been thinking about it, since.”

Were it not for Angela’s tone—more wanting than serious—Fareeha might sit up straighter, might disentangle herself in order to turn to face her wife properly, rather than just look down at where Angela’s head rests on her shoulder. As it is, though, she just asks, “You have?”

A hum of confirmation, as Angela turns to look towards Fareeha. “I have. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about doing the same to you.”

When Fareeha swallows, she feels her throat click.

Those nights when Angela controls the pace, things are usually different—she asks questions, more often than she gives orders, says I’m going to… and then Would you like to join me? Or else she asks, If I were there, what would you want me to do?

Even when she wholly takes charge, it is different from what Fareeha did last Wednesday, when she gave Angela orders, told her how she ought to touch herself, and when. Angela prefers, usually, to talk through a scenario, when she is telling Fareeha what to do; I’m gentle, when I spread your knees, more gentle than you’d ask for, she will say, and Fareeha will let her legs fall open with an agonizing slowness, as she waits for Angela to say I make my way up to where you want me, fingers tracing the inside of your thigh. Fareeha loves that, she does, but this?

This would be something different.

Usually, Angela only gives orders when they are together in person, and even then, those orders are something of a different sort entirely: Wait, and Not yet, and I know you can be good for me. Never is she walking Fareeha through something, asking her to touch herself. The thought of that—it is certainly appealing, and more than a little.

“I think that can be arranged,” says she. “Next time I’m gone.”

In fact, they do not have to wait until then, if Angela does not want to. There are unused quarters, here on base, and Fareeha would happily suffer the dust for an hour or so, if it facilitated this. She is about to suggest that when Angela says, “I think I’d like to do it here, actually.” She moves her hand up Fareeha’s thigh, grabs it, “It’s nice to hear you, of course,” she is not quite making eye contact, when she says that, but she bites her lip, returns her gaze to Fareeha’s, “But I’d really like to watch.”

Fareeha is hardly going to say no to that invitation, likes nothing more than for Angela to look at her, the feeling of warmth and arousal both she gets from she way Angela watches, transfixed, pupils so large Fareeha can hardly see the blue of her eyes. For all that she sometimes has trouble articulating wanting, Angela does nothing, in those moments, to mask the hunger in her expression.

“Tell me what you were picturing?” she asks, because they could do this tonight, if it is not too involved. The underwear Fareeha usually wears in the field—compression shorts and a long sports bra, one that reaches from her clavicle down to the bottom of her ribs—is all in the wash, so if Angela wants to go for realism, that is out, at least for tonight. But if all Angela wants is to watch her touch herself, then she is more than happy to make that happen.

(Usually, they do not do things the same day they discuss them, because it is good, to have time to think, to decide how it is they want to execute something, but this is simple enough, is hardly untrod ground, is more doing something familiar in a different context. It is early enough, too, just past 20:00, that even if they wanted to discuss further, to plan how they want for this to go, there is plenty of time before they usually turn in.)

“Nothing too specific,” Angela says. She is less visual than Fareeha is, more prone to imagining a series of happenings than one specific image. “I only thought—the face you make, when you want to touch yourself, and I tell you Not yet. The way you tremble, just a little, it’s…” Angela stops, for a moment. “But I can’t see everything, then. I’ve got my head between your legs, or we’re face to face, and I don’t really get to see all of you.” Quieter, as if it were a confession, “I’d like to.”

Often, when she is nervous, Angela overexplains things, but here, Fareeha appreciates the extra detail—both because it is useful, and because it is a rare treat, to hear Angela describe, so frankly, what it is, specifically, she enjoys about their sex life. She waits, to see if Angela will elaborate.

Apparently, she waits too long, because Angela pulls back a little, adds, “We don’t have to, of course. If you’re not inte—”

“It’s okay,” Fareeha says, and then “I’d like to, too.”

“Oh,” Angela sounds a little relieved, “Good.”

Concerned that her hesitation may have taken the wind out of Angela’s sails, somewhat, Fareeha leans in, initiates a kiss.

Angela is quick to reciprocate, hands moving to pull Fareeha closer. It is easy, to fall into a familiar rhythm; by now she knows well just how it is Angela likes to kiss her, and how she likes to be kissed in turn. Familiarity like that is nice, is comfortable, is what Fareeha wants in a relationship, to know where she stands, and what she can expect, to be secure in the knowledge that there is someone to come home to, who loves her so well—but she cannot deny, too, that there is a certain spark, on nights like this, when their plan is something outside of their routine.

She very nearly forgets herself, gets swept up in this moment of kissing Angela, is about to lie her back on the couch, when suddenly, Angela breaks off.

“Did you mean tonight?” she asks, “Because I think, if we keep going this way…”

“Not feeling up for a second round?” Fareeha’s tone is teasing, and she moves to disentangle herself even as she asks. Some things are best done on places other than the couch.

“On no,” Angela tells her. “It isn’t me I’m thinking of.” She leans back in, mouth next to Fareeha’s ear, says, sotto voce, “You won’t have anything left, by the time I’m done.”

Perhaps Fareeha imagines it, but she thinks she sees, as Angela stands, and moves towards the bedroom, just a hint of a blush on her face.

For a moment more, she just sits there, blindsided in the most pleasant way, before Angela glances back over her shoulder at her, and then Fareeha is leaping off the couch and hurrying behind her in a way that cannot possibly be played off as cool.

(That is fine—they are long past the point, by now, of needing to seem suave with one another. If Angela knows that Fareeha is really, really eager to try this, what does that matter? If anything, it is a compliment.)

Once she gets to their bedroom, however, Fareeha stops, lingers in the doorway. She is not quite certain how this is meant to start, what Angela wants, so she thinks it best to wait, and do as she is told.

“You should get changed,” Angela tells her, after switching on one of the bedside lamps.

“Into?” She has lingerie, but she’s not certain that it necessarily fits the mood Angela is going for.

“Pyjamas,” Angela answers, already moving to remove her own clothing, blouse first, then her high waisted slacks. For a moment, Fareeha pauses to enjoy the view, the way the muscles in Angela’s back flex as she reaches to unclasp her bra, but then she does as she was asked, picks out a pair of comfortable sleep shorts and a camisole, like she usually goes to bed in, and switches into them. When she is done putting her clothes in the hamper, she once again settles in to wait, enjoys watching the way Angela’s silky robe rides up in the back when she leans over to switch on the humidifier.

Angela moves back to the bed, turns to Fareeha, asks, “Are you coming?”

“I’d like to be.”

“Very funny,” Angela’s voice is deadpan, but the quirk of her lips betrays the fact that she finds Fareeha’s juvenile humor amusing, despite herself. “Come sit down.” As she speaks, she pats the bed next to her.

Fareeha does as she is asked.

“And now?”

“Well, what do you usually do, when I call?”

“That depends on where I am,” Fareeha says honestly, “And what time it is. But usually, I lie down.”

“Lie back, then,” Angela asks her. “And close your eyes.”

She does so. Beside her, she feels the bed dip as Angela climbs on it, too, moves to sit next to her.

“Picture the most comfortable place you’ve been stationed—”

“Monaco.” There is no comparing, really. Surveillance on the casino there was frustrating, but the hotel they stayed in was so, so nice, particularly compared to the cots and sleeping bags they often settle for.

“—Picture Monaco. It’s late, but you’re still awake. Maybe the mission has left you restless, maybe you took a long hot bath, enjoyed the jets, and you’re just now turning in. Maybe,” Angela leans down, over her, not touching, quite, but close enough that again, Fareeha can smell her perfume, “You dreamed of me.”

“I did,” Fareeha says. She remembers, distinctly, waking up to her hand between her thighs, her sleep shorts damp, and the ghost of Angela’s lips on hers. The rest of the dream was gone before she woke, but that remains.

“Shh,” Angela’s correction is gentle. “Just listen.”

Fareeha nearly says Okay.

“You’re there, in your room. It’s hot, and you can’t sleep. You’ve kicked down the covers, and the breeze from the window you cracked open is nice, but it makes you shiver, just a little.”

Fareeha is not usually suggestible, but she does shiver then, the tone of Angela’s voice and the knowledge of what is to come sending a tingle down her spine. If Angela notices—and she must, Fareeha thinks, as close as she is—she does not comment.

“You know there’s only one thing that will settle you down, so late.” That is true; Fareeha often masturbates to take the edge off, when she is anxious or stressed or unable to sleep. “You’ve been wishing I would call, but I’m busy, so it’s just you, all alone. Normally, you’d be efficient—you want to sleep, after all—but it’s so nice there, so comfortable. You want to indulge, don’t you?”

Given the earlier order to just listen, Fareeha decides simply to nod, eagerly.

“Good,” Angela’s voice is just a touch warmer, then, affectionate in the way she often gets when she thinks Fareeha’s enthusiasm is sweet. “You start slowly. No need to take anything off yet. Your pyjama top is thin enough that it still feels nice to touch yourself through it. You start with just your left hand, moving from one breast to another. It’s nothing too intense—not yet. You want to savor the build up. You’re gentle. You can hear the whisper of your fingers against the fabric.”

That, too, is true—Fareeha did not notice, before Angela said it, so focused was she on where this is going, but now that it has been pointed out to her, she hears it with every circle her fingertips make around her nipples, the rasp of the motion. Somehow, focusing on the sound makes the sensation it follows more acute.

This continues, small circles, her eyes closed, Angela mostly watching, commenting now and again on some sensory detail, real or imagined, until Fareeha’s second hand begins to show her mounting impatience, opening and closing against her sleep shorts, not really grasping at anything, only betraying her restlessness, her need to move. Then, and only then, does Angela give another command, tells her that, “It’s nice, waiting, for a little while, nice to take your time, but you’ve never been the patient type, not really.”

(When it comes to foreplay, this is true. Fareeha is happy to indulge Angela, but for herself, she does not find it necessary to linger overlong. In other arenas, too, it has not come naturally, but she thinks she is getting better with time; she learned, certainly, to be patient for Angela, when it came to the pace with which their relationship unfolded. For Angela, she can always wait.)

“You decide you’ve had enough of waiting, at least like this. With the heat of late spring, and the humidity, you notice how your top is sticking to your skin.” In this room, it is not—it is winter, and although they keep the temperature pleasant enough, the camisole Fareeha picked offers little in the way of warmth. Still, she thinks for a moment she can feel it, the way it clings to her, the way she sticks to the sheets, and the familiar thickness of humid air in her lungs.

“It’s best to move it,” Angela suggests. “You don’t want to stop, though, to take it off, so you just shove it up out of the way.”

This fits with Fareeha’s usual way of doing things. Angela would remove the top, would toss it across the room, aiming for the laundry basket but not caring, particularly, if it landed in or simply near its destination, but Fareeha is more particular about these things, does not want to leave anything on the floor to worry about later.

(Sometimes, of course, she gets caught up in what she is doing, and forgets those concerns, but that is usually in moments with more immediacy, when she and Angela are already giggling and tugging at one another’s clothes as they stumble into their bedroom. Left to her own devices, she is neater, but Angela has a way of making her forget herself, in the best sense.)

Now, Fareeha’s focus is less on what she would do and more on what she is doing, her fingers finally touching bare skin. It feels better, for having waited, just like Angela always insists it does, the gratification of the moment not only physical but mental, as well.

Angela, however, remembers what they are doing, does not forget that she is meant to be guiding Fareeha through this, spends a moment to observe, or perhaps simply to let Fareeha adjust, and then resumes her narration, tells her, “It isn’t your own hands you’re picturing, not anymore. You could focus on the present, of course, pleasant as it is, but your mind has a way of wandering.” Her tone changes, sends a shiver up Fareeha's spine, “Who do you imagine? Is it me? A past lover? Someone who has only ever been yours in fantasy?”

If Fareeha could speak, she would say something like You, always you, because it feels right to say, in this moment, even if it is not entirely true—she does picture other people, sometimes, like Angela suggested, enjoys those fantasies on occasion, has even told a few of them to Angela, something they have both enjoyed—but at the end of a long day, far from home, her wife is always the one at the forefront of Fareeha’s mind. And when she was in Monaco…

…The specifics elude her, still, but she remembers other dreams, can imagine what it was that came to her whilst she slept. Angela on top of her, Angela under her, Angela pushing her up against a wall, a leg between Fareeha’s thighs, hands slipping under Fareeha’s shirt and voice low against her as she says…

“I hope it’s me.” Her voice is closer, now, to Fareeha’s ear, like she leaned down to confide this. Fareeha did not feel it, the shifting of the bed, so absorbed was she in the feeling of her hands on herself and thoughts of Angela. “It’s nice, sometimes,” Angela tells her, “Imagining you with other people, the things you’ve told me, but—maybe it’s selfish—nights like this… I want to be the only one you dream of.”

And she is. In this moment, Fareeha cannot think of anyone else, moves to play with her nipples the way Angela would, smells Angela’s perfume when she pinches just a bit harder than she meant to, and inhales sharply, hears Angela’s voice, beside her, yes, but also echoing in her mind, the sounds of the things Angela might say if she were the one touching Fareeha, right now.

(And, anyway, those other memories and fantasies—they are just that, memory and fantasy, best left as they are. She cannot imagine a happier reality than the one beside her at the moment.)

If it were Angela’s hands on her, Angela would be saying Beautiful reverently, when Fareeha arches up into the touch, or maybe Eager with a smile in her voice, clearly enjoying having drawn such a reaction from her, or even Patience, love, if Angela really wants to be taking charge. If Fareeha were really on her own, in that bed in Monaco, that is what she would be imagining, Angela straddling her, teasing, hands on Fareeha’s chest and situated in such a way that Fareeha cannot rock against her for pressure or friction or—anything. Fareeha could beg, but Angela, in this fantasy, would be unyielding, would insist that You can wait a little longer or I’m not done just yet or quiet her with only a whisper, Shhhhh.

Any of those options is appealing, but Fareeha would settle on one, on the tone she wants her wife to take with her, and proceed from there.

But, now, that is a little hard, because present Angela, actually beside her, is thoroughly distracting. Fareeha knows she is supposed to have her eyes closed, to be focusing on the fantasy, and she is trying, she is—but she knows the face Angela makes, when Angela watches her, pupils so large they almost swallow the blue of her irises. That last clause was scarcely more than a whisper, but their room is quiet, save for the distant low hum of the humidifier, and there is an air of confession to it, of vulnerability, that only adds to the intimacy.

There is possessiveness, too, the right amount.

(Angela hesitates, sometimes, to say such things, because she does not want Fareeha to feel stifled, or as if Angela feels some claim over her, wants to control her. That is all well and good, is something Fareeha can appreciate the thought behind, but sometimes, privately, she wishes Angela were a little more… appetent. She is solicitous, certainly, and does her best to show Fareeha how much she is wanted, is more than happy to demonstrate, on the days Fareeha is insecure, but it is a gap in their communication, sometimes, the different ways Angela has in expressing certain things, her level of comfort there. Therefore this admission is a pleasant surprise, one that fills Fareeha with warmth, both the emotional rush of it, of the reminder that yes, her wife wants her in every way Fareeha is willing to offer, but also another sort of warmth entirely, a physical response to those words that is difficult to ignore.)

Angela has not told her to, but she moves her thighs closer together, enjoys the little pressure that offers her.

If Angela sees it—and she must, close as they are, keenly aware as Fareeha is of the feeling of eyes on her skin—then she chooses not to comment. Instead, she pauses for just a moment, perhaps to stifle a breath in, perhaps to lick her lips, perhaps simply to collect herself, after her confession, before she continues describing the scene, painting for Fareeha a picture of where she is, what she is meant to be doing, thinking, feeling in this moment.

“I don’t know what it looked like,” she is saying, “Your hotel room. You never tell me these things,” an observation, not an admonition, “But I think, here, it hardly matters. You aren’t there anyway, even in that moment. Your mind has you here, with me, on our sheets. The ones beneath you are nice, of course, but they aren’t home, not like these, they don’t smell like me, when you take a deep breath in.”

Fareeha does breathe in, then, taking it as a cue. Nice as that hotel was, it is nicer, to smell home.

“It’s okay,” Angela tells her, “You can imagine it—or, not quite, because scents are so difficult, but the feelings it conjures, those are there.”

And they are. Safety, warmth, the security of waking, at 03:00, and finding Angela has an arm and a leg thrown across her, is as close to spooning Fareeha as she can be, without Fareeha having to submit to that vulnerability of being held from behind. Even in her sleep, she wants to protect Fareeha, always, wants to care for her. The feeling is very mutual.

“Maybe you notice it, the difference in smell. Maybe you don’t care at all. You’re busy, after all, with other things, busy with dreams of me, what I’d be doing if I were there. Do you want me to be gentle? To be rough? Do you want things fun, or to be teased?”

Fareeha has imagined all of those things, in turn, and they each have their merits, but when she misses home, misses her wife, she thinks of the times Angela is tender with her, when she touches Fareeha with an aching gentleness, looks at her with reverence, whispers little prayers of thanks against her skin, as if she is lucky, to have Fareeha, as if Fareeha is someone deserving of such kindness.

(And she is. Sometimes, it has been hard to believe it, with the things she has had to do, in her line of work, and the ways other people have treated her, but some part of her has always known that she deserves it, that sort of kindness, of love, and now she has it, she cannot imagine how she ever accepted anything less. She feels whole, when Angela treats her like that, because Angela has seen the worst of her, and loves her still, wants her still, as she is, without any pretense that she will change, or even feeling that she ought to.)

“I suppose you can’t tell me,” Angela says, “As I’m not there, but if I could see you—there’s a thought, you imagining me watching—if I could see you, I’d recognize in your movements my own.”

They have bled together, in more ways than one. Sometimes, Angela will say something, a turn of phrase, and Fareeha will recognize it as her own, and sometimes, she finds herself watching Angela, unconsciously mirroring her movements, has noticed that the way she does little things like straighten her sleeves has changed, just a little, to be closer to the way her wife does, a nervous habit. It is natural that here, too, there would be some transfer, some shift from one way of doing things to another. Partially, it is learning one another’s preferences, of course, but part, too, is finding a new familiar, and becoming accustomed to one another, more accustomed than Fareeha has ever been to any other lover. It is easy, by now, to move like Angela, for she knows her wife almost as well as she knows herself.

And, knowing herself—she thinks that she could see, too, if Angela chose to move like her, if she tried. Is certain that Angela, given what she said, can do the same.

Maybe she is watching for that, even now.

Fareeha thinks, for a moment, to tease her, to vary things in a way that is unexpected, but Angela is not supposed to be here, to be watching. It is difficult, to ignore the heat of Angela’s eyes on her, and the pleasant sensations that always come with being watched but maybe—maybe she does not have to.

I’d like to see all of you, Angela told her, uncharacteristically bold, and so maybe, this time, Fareeha can be forgiven for putting on a bit of a show.

She likes to, in general, has an exhibitionist streak that is only ever indulged in fantasy, even if shared, but this—it is different, if Angela asks, is different, if it is just the two of them, as themselves, not imagining themselves strangers or mere colleagues, is different, if Angela wants to see her not because Fareeha is putting herself on display, but just because she loves Fareeha, as she is, finds her sexy even in those vulnerable moments, when she is not trying to be anyone other than herself. If Fareeha’s breath hitches, just for a moment, only Angela can see it, and she will not comment.

(Not now, anyway. Later, perhaps, when they go over this, discuss what they liked, what they did not, what could be better next time, Angela will ask a question, but for now, it goes unremarked upon.)

Already, Angela gave her tacit permission to go more at her own pace, saying she did not know what Fareeha would imagine, in that moment, although the premise that she is indulging still stands, a request that she not rush, that she give herself—and Angela—time to enjoy this, but she speeds things up, just a little, exaggerates, slightly, her reactions to her own ministrations, so Angela will see.

Or—maybe she does not exaggerate, exactly. Maybe she simply censors herself less. It is an old habit, from her time in the barracks, to suppress her responses, stay quiet as possible, and although she does not try to do it consciously, anymore, she knows she still restrains herself, at times, only half-gasps, when she might make a sound, moves only a little, when she might want to toss her head, presses her lips together, rather than biting them. With Angela, she does not do it as much as she used to, tries her best to make it clear when she is enjoying herself, and just how much. In the beginning, it was a gentle form of guidance, of feedback, when they were still learning to please one another, and Angela was unsure, worried that other lovers, with more experience with bodies like Fareeha’s, might have been better, but now it is born of comfort, that openness, a knowledge that she need not withhold anything.

Alone, however, it lingers. If it were really just her, as she is meant to be pretending it is, she would not arch as she does, into her hand. If Angela were not beside her, talking her through, even now, the things she imagines Fareeha might fantasize about based on her movements, she would not let out a ragged breath when she draws her fingers gently against the sensitive spot on her stomach, moving one hand down towards the juncture of her thighs. If she were alone, she might not dig her heels in quite so hard, when she finally touches herself, no matter how much quicker that moment might have come, or how much rougher she might be.

But she is not alone. She is here, and Angela is watching her, saying things like “It’s just right, the feeling of my phantom hands on you, the memory of my mouth at your breasts, of it kissing lower, lower. You were going to take your time, indulge—and you have, for a little while—but you can only be so patient. You want to touch yourself, and you want to do it now,” and so she arches upwards, into the touch, at the thought of Angela’s mouth, knows that it is what she would do, if Angela were kissing her. An encouragement and a request both, Yes, and please, and lower all in one.

Her fingertips do not feel the same as Angela’s mouth, cannot, but she listens, nonetheless, as Angela describes how the breeze from the window, ever so slight, is enough to make her shiver, when it hits the parts of her skin that are damp from Angela’s kisses. There is no saliva, of course, on her skin, but there is the beginnings of a sweat, despite her lack of exertions, because the heat of her core at the thought of all of this is more than sufficient to elicit one.

With another lover, she might have been self-conscious about such a thing, knowing that her skin must shine in the dim light, but Angela has said, before, that she rather likes the look of Fareeha all sweaty, and proven as much, too, kissing her deeply in the locker room after a workout when it is just the two of them alone, moving her knee between Fareeha’s thighs, just a little, in a way that promises later.

It is impossible, anyway, to be self-conscious when she hears the admiring tone in Angela’s voice as she describes her motions, the way it is just a little huskier than usual, the clear byproduct of arousal. Angela seems to be trying to keep it steady when she says, “You still take your time, moving your hand downwards. I would—I’d be slower,” but she does not entirely succeed.

That hardly matters, when she follows it up with, “You like it, when I tease you just a little, and maybe you think of that, maybe you remember the time I spent minutes just playing with that sensitive spot on your lower abdomen, until you were begging me to touch you already. You didn’t want me to do anything else for foreplay—that was enough, in the end. Maybe you take your time because you want to, because you know that it’s a luxury, on missions, and this is the sort of place that invites that indulgence, in and of itself. Maybe you simply aren’t ready, quite yet, for this to end,” because Fareeha finds, quickly, that she cannot think of anything else but Angela’s words, cannot do anything but picture what she is asked to, all her attention now on the fantasy described, the feeling of her hands on her body, and the awareness, oh so keen, of the throbbing between her legs.

If it were her alone, she would not take her time, not anymore. But she is not. She is here, with Angela, not in some hotel room in Monaco, and the feeling of Angela’s eyes on her, the lust in her voice, the dip in the bed as Angela moves—impatient, too, by this point—that is a compelling enough reason to wait, if only for a little longer.

And it is a very little time longer—Angela, it seems, has also had enough of waiting. A pleasant surprise.

Still, she is trying, at least, to keep her tone even, measured, as she continues to direct Fareeha, does not acknowledge just how quick this was, perhaps an acquiescence to her own fantasy. “Eventually, of course, it isn’t enough. You’ve had your thighs pressed together for minutes, now, and you can only wait so long.” This is true. Fareeha would wait a very long time, if Angela asked, but she has, indeed, been growing impatient, has found it harder and harder to ignore where it is she really wants to be touched.

“Maybe you imagined me teasing you,” Angela is telling her, while she does her best to wait, because she has not been told, yet, that she can continue to move her hand downwards. Angela’s speculations, which fed her fantasy, earlier, are now simply a delightful form of torture. “Or maybe you imagined that we were simply taking our time, that I was mapping every inch of you with my hands and my mouth, until every spot on your skin got the attention it deserved. Maybe you didn’t think about any of that too deeply at all, were focused only on replacing the feeling of your hand with my mouth, were utterly preoccupied with thinking what you would say to me—pleas? Thanks? Instructions?” All of them, and none. “Regardless, you know, now, that you’re ready to move on.”

And she is. And she does.

Alone, she would make this quick. She is more sensitive than her wife is, and if she wants to, it never takes her long to come, not once she has her fingers at her clit, but this is Angela’s fantasy, too, not just her own, so she does not want it to end too quickly, even if she is barely focusing on Angela’s narration, anymore, is far more acutely aware of the sensations it elicits, when Angela tells her that she dips the tips of her fingers inside herself to wet them—as if she needed such a thing, at this point—tries to follow those words as if the sound of her own heartbeat is not louder and louder in her ears.

Still, even if the substance of Angela’s monologue ceases to matter, her voice is still there, if a little less steady, broken occasionally by a hitched breath. Fareeha can hardly judge, quick and rough as her own breathing is, now, but she notices it nonetheless, if only because Angela’s voice is the only thing left tying her to the world, now, her only anchor to anything outside of her focus on the growing tension in her body.

The closer she gets to orgasm, the more her world shrinks, from the fantasy of a large room in Monaco, the breeze on her skin and silken sheets beneath her, to the reality of the sensations of the moment, the weight of the bed shifting as Angela does, beside her, and the pillow she has half buried her face in, cool when she switches which side she has her head facing, to something smaller still, the burning of her body and the pressure, ever increasing, the feeling of her fingers and through it all, the sound of Angela’s voice. As best she can, she tries to drag things out just a little longer, moves her hand in the same pattern Angela would, tracing circles around her clit, and then pausing, for a moment, to toy with her labia—pleasant, but not nearly enough pressure—before she finally, finally puts a finger on either side of her clit and rolls it, the way Angela does.

It is not quite the same, doing it with her own hand, but it is no less pleasant, the burst of sensation, and she can time it, just so, to the mounting feeling of arousal, and it is not long before it is the only thing she can focus on, that feeling. She should wait, she knows, she should, because when they call one another, and their roles are reversed, Angela waits for her permission, always, even when Fareeha draws things out, but it is a thing far easier said than done, and her awareness of that is, in truth, a vague thing, not a fully coherent thought, because right now her thoughts are pleasure and pressure and proximity and not much beyond the knowledge that she is so, so close and this is going to be so, so good.

When she touches herself, and she thinks of Angela, she often imagines Angela talking to her, half memory and half fantasy, encouraging her, telling her to wait, or that she is beautiful, like this, or that it is okay if she comes, now, she has been patient enough. It changes, depending on her mood, but so often, Angela’s voice is present, giving her permission, an order, an encouragement to come, if she wants to, if she is ready now, because “You’ve waited long enough, you think.”

But that last part is real, this time, is Angela sat beside her. “You’re so close, by now, and it feels so good, and you could stretch it out, if you really wanted to, but why would you? I’m not there, asking you to. So you close your eyes tighter, and you think of me, and you just let the feeling wash over you. Would you do that for me? Would you come?”

She does as she was asked, focuses on the feeling, building. Angela is still talking, but there is no narrative, anymore, and Fareeha is free to think only of how close she is, to really feel that long moment when she knows her orgasm is inevitable, just before it hits, the tension inside her and Angela telling her how beautiful she is like that and how perfect and—

—and the rest falls away as she comes, is swept up in the sensation.

When it is over, she opens her eyes at last, her breath not quite fully caught, looks at Angela who is watching her still. Her rapt expression, Fareeha expected, pupils large and eyes dark—that her hand would have drifted inside her robe, during the course of this, Fareeha did not.

It is a most welcome surprise.

A few moments pass, giving Fareeha the opportunity to collect herself, before Angela breaks the silence. “You enjoyed yourself?” It is a question, because Angela always checks in, after they try something new.

“Mm-hmm,” Fareeha confirms, propping herself up on one elbow and then, with a meaningful glance down at Angela’s right hand, “It seems like you did, too.”

Angela blushes, then, bright pink, as if she did not just narrate, at length, Fareeha touching herself, did not say things far more explicit. Somehow this acknowledgment makes her bashful. “Yes.”

“Did you finish?” She does not think so; Angela never really stopped talking, and Fareeha thinks—her focus did falter, at the end, but she imagines she would have noticed. Her wife is naturally quieter than she is, but less likely to restrain herself.

A shake of Angela’s head, confirmation that no, not yet.

“Well come here, then,” Fareeha is already moving to pull Angela down on top of her, “Let me fix that.”

“If you insist,” Angela says with a little laugh, going all too willingly into Fareeha’s arms.

For all that Fareeha’s mind has been changed, with Angela, about the merits of absence, the fondness that comes with it, the anticipation of a reunion, she still thinks that this is far better. They can pretend to be apart all they like, can enjoy the fantasy of yearning for one another, of late night phone calls and anticipation, but at the end of the evening, this is what she far prefers, her wife in her arms, the feeling of that laughter against her lips, the comfort that the person who loves her most is here with her, now.

And the sounds she will tease out of Angela are far sweeter than any dream.

#rory writes fic #hopefully big tumblr doesnt whack me for being h*rny #but if they do... well idc i guess #anyway dialogue kills me but I DID IT #bc its 2023 so i really do have to write the pharmercy i wanna read

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thecinematicalgorithm · 3 years ago

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10 Reasons Why Zekaela Should Be Endgame (And Jachaela Should Not) - Part Two

Here is part two of my Zekaela endgame argument as promised. Beware of potential spoilers and enjoy.

5. They Communicate Well

Many argue that the key to a healthy relationship is communication. If a couple has an issue how can it be resolved unless they communicate? It’s easy to shut someone out when you don’t think they will understand, or you don’t trust them, or you’re afraid for whatever reason. Because Zeke and Michaela understand and trust each other they are able to communicate well, even about issues that are hard to talk about. Communication takes honesty and vulnerability, and something that many fail to realize, it also requires the ability to listen. Though Zeke takes time to open up to Michaela he never lies to her. He told her about his drug and alcohol addictions, his assault charge, his relationship with Courtney. There have been a few instances when they didn’t agree with one another but instead of becoming a deal breaker they were able to work through and resolve the issues with communication.

Michaela often shuts Jared out because she does not think he will understand or agree with her on her callings. Oftentimes, Jared does not listen to Michaela and even acts against her wishes. If he had truly listened to her and given her the space she needed he may have stood a better chance of rebuilding their relationship, and she would not have gotten shot either. In reality, Jared not listening to Michaela when she communicated her needs to him is what pushed Zeke and Michaela toward leaning on one another.

4. They Don’t Get Carried Away By Jealousy

There are many instances when Zeke and Michaela could be jealous of each other, and at times are, but instead choose to look past it. Michaela allowed Courtney to shelter with them despite her being Zeke’s ex-wife (though apparently not legally). Zeke has shown some discomfort with Jared and it’s not hard to see why. However, neither of them takes it out on the other. They don’t try to sabotage their partner’s relationship with the object of their jealousy and they even show understanding over why that relationship is important to their partner.

Jared is the complete opposite on this point. I really don’t think I need to elaborate. Mick literally got shot because of Jared’s jealousy.

3. They Put Each Other First

Zeke and Michaela are couple goals much of the time because they know how to put the other first. This demonstrates true, selfless love. There are so many instances of this quality in each of their characters. Michaela putting her job and relationship with Jared at risk simply to break Zeke out of jail. Zeke putting his life at risk to stay beside Michaela. Michaela putting her fears aside and marrying Zeke so that he could have the memory of their love rather than the memory of a desperate clinging to treatments in a sterile hospital. Zeke following Michaela’s lead and trusting in her decisions. They love each other so much that they are willing to overlook their own immediate needs or desires in order to make sure that the other is happy, because in short their partner’s joy brings them joy.

Jared often refuses to put Michaela first if it does not favor his desires. He could not give her space because he wanted to be closer to her. He could not let go of his vendetta against Zeke. He resents her for following her callings despite how they might save her life. This is not selfless love. It is possessive love.

2. They Are Married

I cannot tell you how tired I am of Hollywood and entertainment making something as sincere and binding as a marriage so light and wishy-washy as if there aren’t enough divorces in real life. In today’s society marriage is not given the level of gravity and sincerity as it should be. Marriage should never be entered into lightly and it should not be so easily disintegrated. Despite the speed in which Zeke and Michaela got married the writer’s insured that there was a weight to the decision. It was given thought and both characters understood what was at stake. And when Zeke beat his death date the two were thrilled at the idea of “growing ancient” together. Michaela’s statement to Grace on how she couldn’t wait to “be on the other side” of the death date with Zeke shows that both want a lasting marriage. They want to spend their lives together, grow old together, make mistakes together. Their vows also demonstrated this with Zeke vowing to love Michaela as long as his life allows, and Michaela vowing to fight for their lives together for as long as they both shall live. Both kept that time stamp open-ended because both hoped it could be far longer than one day. Also Michaela’s sadness of her brother’s dilemma in his marriage and her immediate remorse over her affair with Jared and having destroyed another woman’s (her best friend’s to boot) marriage shows that she understands the importance of marriage vows and the ugliness of divorce and I am sure she would not want to go through that in her own marriage.

Jared has demonstrated twice how easily he overlooks the importance of marriage and marriage vows. He cheated on his own wife, and no matter how you justify it being with Michaela, it was still cheating and he still broke whatever vows he made. He showed very little remorse over it and didn’t fight for his marriage at all. Then he told Michaela in the season 3 finale that he only stood by and watched her marry Zeke (which he didn’t since we all saw him leave before the ceremony anyway) because Zeke would be gone soon. As if marriage to Michaela was a bone to throw to the poor dying man before he could have his chance to step in and have her to himself. He showed no thought in how this would have hurt Michaela to have been a widow so soon, and he did not hesitate in making his confession despite knowing the strain it might put on Zeke and Michaela’s marriage. I hope to God that the show writer’s will surprise us and show Zeke and Michaela work through even this obstacle only to come out in an even better and stronger marriage. They’ve shown us they can handle a good marriage with Ben and Grace, so hopefully they keep it up.

1. The Callings Brought Them Together

Lastly, the Callings, or whatever the entity behind them is, brought Zeke and Michaela together. The two were resurrected. They received callings that led them to find one another. They found a petrograph that showed their experience together. They received some of the same callings that led them to work together and hence grow closer. The callings ensured they got married when Michaela feared they were missing out on an opportunity to save Zeke’s life. If this is not the universe screaming out that they belong together I don’t know what is.

However, the first thing that the Callings did in order to insure that Michaela ended up with Zeke was separating Michaela from Jared in the first place. Indeed the Callings have actually managed to drive a wedge between the two on top of the already complicated nature of their relationship. Why go through this whole predestined story line only to go “Sike! She ends up with Jared anyways.” Not making Zekaela endgame would make everything that’s happened between these three characters completely pointless.

At the end of the day the story is in the hands of the writers. They have a plan and goal in mind. It’s impossible to tell what route they will go. However, the relationship of Jared with Michaela and Zeke with Michaela since season 1 has shown time and again that Jared does not have a healthy or selfless love for Michaela, but Zeke does. Every Jachaela worshiper always argues that there is too much chemistry and history between them for them to not be endgame, but relationships are so much more than chemistry. You can have chemistry with many people in life but that doesn’t mean you should end up with them. And oftentimes history can be toxic and unproductive which is shown with Jared not being able to let Michaela go or give her space. I don’t go running back to my exes all day long simply because we have chemistry and history. Oftentimes, history is enough to get you running away as we’ve seen Michaela do. So without their chemical history what do they really have?

Well Team Zekaela I hope you enjoyed! I will be going into Manifest Season 4 with hopes that the writers don’t sink our beautiful ship. Please share your thoughts and look out for future posts about Manifest, Zekaela and more!

#manifest nbc #zekaela #zeke landon #michaela stone #matt long #melissa roxburgh #jared vasquez #jr ramirez

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charcubed · 4 years ago

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Let's talk about Supernatural 15x07, "Last Call."

Or as I like to call it, "the episode that makes me go feral because it tells us so much about Dean's sexuality, character, and arc."

YES others have written meta! YES I will talk about it myself for the satisfaction! I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

This post was originally a thread on Twitter and I am crossposting it to my blog.

Alt image IDs are included in that linked Twitter thread!

Join me on this journey.

What's the context of this episode? Dean's been kind of down/depressed, feeling hopeless in the face of the idea that they have to defeat God (and not really working towards that goal much), and he's mid-divorce with Cas. He goes out on this solo case to try to clear his head.

And he ends up at Swayze's Bar.

Look, there are many things to be said about this. Dean loves Patrick Swayze. Arguably has a CRUSH on Swayze. It's very tied up in Dean pretending not to like "chick flicks" but he secretly does, which is queer coding. This was a Choice™️.

Speaking of Choices™️: professional actors made many here. Deliberately.

Dean is smacked on the ass by a woman and then Lee smacks him on the ass too. Dean and Lee CONSTANTLY have physical familiarity and fond eye contact. I will limit myself to 1 paragraph about this lest I list it all.

My point is that I just really need every person to digest and accept the fact that this is textually bi Dean. Not subtext; it's TEXT.

Dean and Lee had a relationship. Their history is alluded to in touch and in words. They had an orgy together. Dean's bisexuality is not repressed.

It's also now canon that Dean tries to hide that he can sing well. Most people don't know (like Sam) but some do (Lee). Hence "Eye of the Tiger" callback.

And so: that's also the implication for his sexuality. Dean singing ON STAGE with bi lighting is him being ready to be Out.

They dedicated an entire half an ep at minimum to emphasizing he's bi... and to Dean having a conversation with someone he (initially) trusts about potentially having a break from hunting, and what that could mean.

LEE: You're chasing missing persons, huh? I thought you'd be on to something bigger by now, like the Loch Ness Monster... Bigfoot.

DEAN: Trust me, uh, bigger doesn't always equal better. Besides, who's gonna look out after the little guy? God certainly isn't.

LEE: Damn, brother, that's dark.

DEAN: Yeah, it's been a rough, uh... it's been a rough decade, Lee.

LEE: Yeah.

DEAN: But that's a conversation for a different time, 'cause this, this right here, this is all right.

LEE: Well, I'm glad you approve. This is nothing you can't have, man.

DEAN: Oh, come on. Who's gonna kill the bad guys?

LEE: Somebody else. Dean, how many lives you think you saved, huh? Hundreds? Thousands? You deserve a break, bro. Hell, you might even deserve two.

"But Lee turns out to be a villain!" some might say. "Isn't the point that giving up hunting is bad?"

Nope.

Lee's a DARK MIRROR for Dean. He exists to exhibit the truths behind Dean's desires, and then what they'd look like if they turned bad. Take it from him: "I am you."

There are LAYERS here. You can't focus on the dark side and ignore the truths that take place in the (often bi) light.

The singing? The conversations about taking a break? Throwing men out of the bar, which is framed heroically? "Road House rules" (another Choice™️)?

NONE of that was bad. It shows what Dean wants.

Things only get bad–literally and visually–when Dean's tied up as Lee suddenly says wrong things in the dark.

The contrast exists to show that maintaining Goodness is a choice, and Dean would have no problem upholding that.

LEE: It's called a marid. It's a freaky-looking little thing, isn't it? [Lee laughs, and Dean stares at him, incredulous] Ah. As long as you feed it, it gives you money, it gives you health, everything you dreamed of.

DEAN: And so, what, it just costs innocent lives?

LEE: Dean, you and I both know no one's innocent. After everything we've done, aren't... aren't we owed a little happiness, huh? Don't we deserve that much?

DEAN: Listen to yourself. "We're owed." "We deserve." Come on, man. You're not God. Hell, God's not even God.

LEE: Good or bad... the world doesn't care. No one cares, Dean.

DEAN: Well, I do.

LEE: Yeah. And that's what got you here. Now, takes a while to drain a man, but listen to me. Don't worry about it, all right? Don't worry because once you lose a couple of pints, you just fall asleep, and then it'll be over.

[Lee pats Dean on the shoulder]

DEAN: Lee.

LEE: This... this is not how I wanted this to go, Dean. When that blonde girl walked in here last night, I should've know, you know, Dean Winchester, the righter of wrongs, you were gonna keep digging, and you were gonna figure me out. And if it's got to be you or me, well, I got to pick me, man.

"No one cares, Dean."

"Well, I do."

It's a reminder to himself as much as it is to Lee. It's a re-centering of purpose that he sorely needs.

And what's also key? Lee is human, but is now a "monster" in Dean's words. Because Lee lost his ability to care, Dean can't abide by that.

(Side note: bonus for the fact that Lee dies up against a wall by being impaled and he coughs up blood. You know who doesn’t cough up blood in their very weird and unrealistic death scene? Dean in the finale.)

Remember: Lee is a dark mirror for Dean. "I am you."

By fighting and (tragically) killing Lee, Dean "kills" the darker side of himself. The side that's struggling to keep going right now... AND the side that fears eventually wanting a break means you must be selfish and stop caring.

He can keep going. He can find strength to fight God–and in the end, take a break and CHOOSE peace. It won't make him dark. He's the most caring man on Earth, even when it's hard. That’s reinforced later.

Isn't he owed a little happiness? And that's not in the having. It's in just being.

The bonus is what's going on with Cas in this episode.

Dean's clearing his head and finding his center again while Cas is calling him.

Come home. I need you. Remember what matters.

And again, contrast: Lee turns out not to be "real/true" in the way Dean thought he was. But Cas IS.

And after Dean goes through all of this... he's grounded again, he recognizes that even amongst questions of what God controls there are still choices to be made, he's reminded that letting his caring heart lead him is priority, he's lost another friend...

He comes home to Cas.

It's awkward. They're still distanced.

But this episode is a turning point for Dean. He's not angry at Cas anymore, he wants to talk, he's ready to move forward... he just doesn't know how to yet.

And if you follow the through-line... then you get Rowena saying "fix it"... and then after that is the Purgatory prayer.

I just !!!

S15 is packed with Dean development to hone in towards the end of his arc, but "Last Call" manages to hit SO many buttons.

• He's always been bi, & is ready to be Out

• He can want a break–& maybe run a bar like the Roadhouse

• Caring is at the core of who he is

It's about the CHOICE. It's about wanting to live your truths, and that "caring" can mean many things–from defeating God and saving the world, to making the hard choices when it counts, to maybe running a bar where people are safe.

14x10 and its matching Texan Star also say hello:

DEAN: How come you always have a boyfriend?

PAMELA: How come you only want what you can't have?

DEAN: Whoa.

PAMELA: Besides, you don't want me. You just like to flirt. I'm a psychic, so I kinda know.

DEAN: All right.

PAMELA: So, still not ready to sell the bar, huh? It's a lot of money.

DEAN: Sell? This bar? This is my dream.

PAMELA; Yeah.

And I recognize that rereading this info is sad(der) now because of what we got in the end, so uh... sorry.

But that's half the point: it's repeatedly blatantly clear what we were meant to get, down to deliberate echoes in word choice–caring, happiness, deserve, even Roadhouse.

Dean was meant to choose to take a break, maybe run a bar–whether on Earth or in Heaven. At minimum, if Dean was meant to end up in Heaven, he was meant to choose it with eyes wide open. And the next time the phone rang with Cas' name (15x19), he RAN for him. He was VERY ready.

And the whole season tells you that. This episode is just my favorite.

So... thanks for letting me ramble on about it!!!

DEAN WINCHESTER: BI ICON, ONCE-LOVER OF LEE WEBB, THE MOST CARING MAN ON EARTH WHO DESERVED TO CHOOSE PEACE AFTER GAINING HIS FREEDOM, & SOULMATE TO AN ANGEL

And a very big thank you to the talented kings Jensen Ackles & Christian Kane, and their longstanding friendship. They gave me many rights with their acting choices.

Here's an iconic bonus for the road.

#supernatural #spn meta #15x07 Last Call #Lee Webb #Dean Winchester #Destiel #Dean is bi #took a lot of self control for me to not go FUCKING FERAL in this #char writes things

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writerthreads · 3 years ago

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The top 10 classic fears in literature

By Prof. Marianna Torgovnik on TedBlog

Fear #1: Death, death, death—did I mention death?

An almost universal fear, death recurs in literature more than any other fear, all the way from canonical works through fantasies like J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. I list the fear of death three times since it occurs in many forms: fear of our own deaths, fear of family members or close friends dying, fear of children preceding parents, the death of an entire culture.

Some examples: Shakespeare’s Sonnets (“Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore”; Hamlet (“To be or not to be”); John Keats (“When I have fears”); Virginia Woolf, The Waves; Pat Barker, The Ghost Road. This list could go on and on, because the fear does.

Fear #2: Avoiding death for the wrong reasons.

Literature loves paradox and so, paradoxically, the second greatest fear is avoiding death for the wrong reasons: when death will inevitably follow a noble or moral act or out of cowardice, especially in war. For understandable reasons, this fear is less common than more general fear of death, but it is out there and memorable nonetheless.

Some examples: Sophocles, Antigone (to bury her dead brother, Antigone famously courts death); Shakespeare several times — Hamlet again (“There is a providence in the fall of a sparrow”) and Antony and Cleopatra (to avoid capture by Octavius); Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities (“It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done”); Harry Potter in his pursuit of Voldemort.

Fear #3: Hunger or other severe physical deprivation.

Survival tends to trump the finer emotions when it comes to fear. Sometimes time specific, the fear of hunger nonetheless reminds us of basic things. In romantic novels or poems, it can be and often is a symbol for more abstract needs, like love. In Holocaust literature, it portrays humanity strained to the core.

Some examples: Dante, The Divine Comedy (Count Ugolino and his children); Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” (“Water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink”); Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre; Elie Wiesel, Night; Susanne Collins’ The Hunger Games.

Fear #4: Killing or causing the death of someone you love.

Whether by murder, negligence or a set of circumstances beyond our control, the fear of causing the death of someone we love is a big one. It’s a stock feature of numerous spy and crime dramas, where we tend to brush it off since the hero (think James Bond) or (more rarely) heroine’s beloved is almost always a goner. Numerous operas by Verdi, including Rigoletto and Un Ballo in Maschera use this theme, sometimes more than once; in fact, opera thrives on this fear, as in Bizet’s Carmen. It usually takes serious and even majestic forms in literature.

Some examples: Patroclus dying for Achilles in Homer’s The Iliad; Othello killing Desdemona in Shakespeare’s Othello; Thomas Hardy, Jude the Obscure (“Done because we are too menny”); D.H. Lawrence’s Women in Love (Gerald choosing to die rather than kill Gudrun); Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl.

Fear #5: Being rejected and/or being loved by the wrong person.

At last we come to a fear that can have a lighter side and, sometimes — though not always — a happy ending. In literature, characters fear being rejected, being loved, and being loved by the wrong person in almost equal proportions. Once again, the examples span the ancient classics all the way up to the present.

Some examples: Woman loves step-son madly in three versions of the same story, none with a happy ending (Euripides, Hippolytus; Racine, Phaedra; Mary Renault, The Bull from the Sea); mixed up couples set right in Shakespeare’s As You Like It; love triumphs by the end in Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice; two different kinds of love lead to tragedy in Hardy, Tess of the D’Urbervilles; mixed results in Jeffrey Eugenides, The Marriage Plot.

Fear #6: Illness, disease and aging.

Closely allied to the fear of death — but not identical to it — the fear of illness is another constant though, as we’d expect, the disease most feared changes over time. The bubonic plague used to be the leading contender; TB enjoyed a long dominance until cures were found. Nowadays, cancer and, more often, dementia are far greater fears. There is at least one stunning example in this category of embracing the fear being absolutely the right thing to do: Flaubert’s St Julien, L’Hospitalier, in which the saint embraces a leper and achieves transcendence.

Some examples: Giovanni Boccacio’s Decameron; Daniel Defoe’s Journal of the Plague Year; Oscar Wilde, The Portrait of Dorian Gray; Albert Camus, La Peste (The Plague); Ian McEwan, Atonement; Jonathan Franzen, The Corrections.

Fear #7: Lost reputation, divorce or scandal.

People used to fear this one more than they do today, when our motto seems to be that no publicity is really bad publicity and unseemly revelations are the order of the day. Still, this is a significant fear, and one that even recent books revisit in original ways.

Some examples: Sophocles, Oedipus Rex; Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina; D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover; Thomas Wolfe, The Bonfire of the Vanities; Phillip Roth, The Human Stain.

Fear #8: War, shipwrecks and other disasters.

The fear of shipwrecks can seem archaic — but they were the airplane crashes of yesteryear. Shipwrecks can be mere episodes or the core of the plot; in early literature, they are closely allied with war, a more global disaster. While other disasters arouse fear — earthquakes, volcanos — war and shipwrecks lead the field. Both change characters’ lives, with variable results.

Some examples: Homer, The Odyssey; Defoe, Robinson Crusoe; Jonathan Swift, Gulliver’s Travels; Tolstoy, War and Peace; Yann Martel, Life of Pi.

Fear #9: The law and, more specifically, lawyers.

Fear of the law is a surprisingly classic fear, weighing in at number nine. But what’s meant by the law changes over time. While fear of God’s judgment remains plausible in literature, it is far less common today than fear of society’s laws — and specifically the rapacity of lawyers and the law’s ability, in Dickens’ words, “to make business for itself.” In some modern books, the law becomes a metaphor for the meaning of life.

Some examples: The Bible; Aeschylus, The Oresteia; Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter; Dickens, Bleak House; Franz Kafka, The Trial; Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

Fear #10: That real life won’t resemble literature.

While this might seem the most trivial of fears, in fact it drives a lot of great literature. Some characters want life to be elevated, inflated, like epic or romantic literature. Deprived of that illusion, they die or take their own lives—looping us back to fear #1. Other characters favor codes of renunciation that have been called by literary critics “the Great Tradition,” fearing that they will gain something by immoral or amoral actions; a variation on this fear is the fear, as George Eliot’s Dorothea puts it, “I try not to have desires merely for myself.” Not at all light for avid readers, this fear usefully reminds us that life is not really like a Henry James novel.

Some examples: Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote; Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary; George Eliot, Middlemarch; Henry James, The Ambassadors; Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending.

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schmuckyschmarnes · 4 years ago

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Daffodil

anon request: I have a request if that's okay. Could you maybe write about Bucky protecting the reader from some douchebag in a bar?

warnings: unwanted advances, unwanted physical touching (hand on thigh/leg) author notes: this ended up being a lot longer than i intended, i hope this is at least close to what you were after, but if you’d like me to make any changes, please feel free to let me know!! i included a best friend character and tried not to use any names so it sounds a bit clunky but the y/n ybfn abbreviations always kill it for me when i’m reading so i hope this is ok!! edit: i forgot to mention i also wasn’t sure if you wanted them to already know each other so i wrote a kind of pre-meeting so you could have it both ways

There was a chill in the air as you hurried down the street, half walking-half running, your heels tapping sharply against the concrete. An aggressive series of vibrations interrupted your thoughts and you fumbled for a moment, attempting to balance the large bouquet of flowers you were holding in one hand so that you could retrieve your cell phone from the pocket of your trench coat. The brown paper rustled noisily against you as you finally grabbed your phone, sliding the bar across the screen and putting it to your ear.

“Hey! I’ll be outside in just a sec, I’m so sorry I’m running late!” you said immediately, feeling heavy with the litany of apologies that you would relay until you arrived at your destination.

You were met with a happy laugh on the other end of the line. “How long have we been friends? Did you think I’d wait for you to get started?” your friend teased, and you could hear the beginnings of a slur licking softly at her words.

“I’m offended that you wouldn’t wait for me, you said you would this time!” you accused, biting at a smile as you crossed the road. A car sped around the corner, tires screeching, and the driver slammed down on the horn as he approached you. “Oh piss off!” you called, as the car continued to honk after you'd skipped out of the way.

“And you said you’d be on time!” your friend giggled, oblivious to your rage-fuelled exchange. She had you there.

“I did say that,” you relented, as you walked up the footpath, your destination in sight. “Okay babe, I’m outside, I’ll see you soon.”

“Yaaaaaaaay!” she shrieked, and you moved the phone away from your ear, wincing.

The bar you’d decided to meet at was an old favourite. Busy enough that you weren’t uncomfortably visible, but not too rowdy. Perfect for catch ups and your favourite game, people watching.

As you reached your hand to pull the door open, it swung at you, and a body collided with yours.

“Oh shit-”

“Fuck-”

You felt an arm wrap itself around you as your heel wobbled, and when you opened one eye, face scrunched up (still bracing yourself for what you considered an inevitable fall) you found yourself mesmerised by a shade of striking blue. The stranger steadied you, releasing you from his grip. You opened your second eye, taking a step back sheepishly.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, that was all me,” he interrupted, his hand pushing through the long waves of hair that had fallen into his face. “I wasn't watching where I was going.”

He was gorgeous, sharp lines and stubble and pink lips that stood out against the otherwise dark shadows. A black t-shirt stretched itself over his broad shoulders, and a pale blue long sleeved collared shirt sat loosely over the top, buttons abandoned and sleeves rolled halfway, giving way to the black gloves on his hands.

“Good reflexes, though,” you noted, moving out of the way of a couple who wanted to head in. “They make it look so easy,” you said, sighing dramatically as the couple disappeared into the bar without incident, and the stranger laughed. It was warm and deep, and you could’ve sworn you felt it reverberating in your own chest when you saw his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Maybe one day we’ll get the hang of it,” he joked, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. He could feel the moment slipping. You tilted towards the door, and he didn’t want you to leave, he wanted to memorise you, and as his eyes ran over you a frown settled over his features, his face darkening. “Aw jeez, I ruined your flowers,” he groaned, clearly distressed. You looked down to find that a few of the petals had been crushed, but all things considered, they’d held together pretty well. An overwhelming desire to comfort this complete stranger seized you.

“Oh hey, no, it’s okay!” you said. “Look, if we just-” and you pulled off a few of the sad-looking petals, “see, they’re good as new!” You waved them proudly in his direction and a single daffodil drooped sadly to the side. “Okay, they’re good as new except for this one,” you amended, pulling the offending stem out, and he chuckled, face brightening once more.

“You’re a miracle worker,” he stated, as he took in the fresh-looking bouquet, and something in his voice made you think he could say anything and you'd believe it.

“Ah, miracle worker is my day job,” you said, smiling. “I’ve got to get these flowers to the person I bought them for, but here, a souvenir of our time together-” you broke the stem off of the single daffodil you were still holding, throwing the long end to the side, and threading the crumpled flower through one of the open buttonholes of his long sleeve shirt, your palm resting for the briefest second on his chest.

"I knew my outfit was missing something. Thanks, doll,” he joked.

"Anytime..." you trailed off, realising you didn't know his name.

"James," he supplied, putting out his hand and then looking down at the glove with uncertainty. It seemed important to him. You took his hand in yours and shook it.

"Anytime, James," you finished, turning to the door. "Okay...take 2," you said, adjusting the flowers and pulling the door toward you.

"Wait," he called out, and you turned back, holding the door open. "What's your name?"

The chatter from the bar swallowed the sound of your voice as you answered him. You watched his lips mouth it, repeating it to himself as if he was determined to remember, and you smiled one last time at him before finally stepping inside.

You’re immediately hit with a wave of warmth, bodies huddled close together, legs sprawled beneath booths, hanging off of stools, hands gripping and fingers holding loosely, glasses that all glinted in the comfortable low light. A screech from across the room startles you and when your eyes find the source, you can’t help but smile. You begin to make your way over but you’re immediately hit by an assortment of limbs, this time you move the flowers off to the side.

“You came!” she shrieked, arms latched around your neck, a few people nearby looked up at the commotion before returning to their conversations.

“I came!” you laughed, squeezing your best friend. “Congratulations, you badass, you deserve this promotion so much.”

“I really do,” she nodded solemnly as she released you. “I’ve worked-” she hiccuped “-so hard.”

“You really have,” you agreed. “This should’ve happened a lot sooner but I’m so happy for you, these are for you.” You thrust the bouquet toward her, and she gasps, taking them in one hand and looping her arm through yours as she leads you to the table she had occupied.

“They’re so pretty, I love them,” she gushed, and you laughed again, amused at how sweet and affectionate she was when she had been drinking. “Listen, Jake’s here,” she said, waving at the man in question, slowing down before you reached him, “and we might not stay too long because to be honest with you, I gotta get laid, babe, it’s getting dusty down there.”

“Girl, it’s your night,” you replied, “I don’t mind at all, we’ll have a few drinks and then you go celebrate properly.”

“Hey Y/N.” Jake said as you finally arrived at the table, standing to give you a quick hug.

“Hey, Jake! How proud are we of our girl here?” you replied, as you removed your coat and settled into your seat.

“Never been more proud,” he answered, throwing his arm around her as she beamed up at him.

The drinks arrive, or, more drinks arrive, and empty glasses are cleared from the table as you catch up, relive what feels like ancient memories, and laugh too hard at stories that continue to hold the title of “funniest thing ever”. After the tenth round of people watching (definitely divorced, owns a cat “-or a bird”, enjoys infomercials and nasty sex), they announced that it was time to leave, and you were shocked to see that almost two hours have passed.

“Enjoy cleaning out the cobwebs,” you said as you hugged goodbye, and she giggled, leaning on her boyfriend for support as they walked out.

You reached for your trench coat, intending to trade the table for the counter when a man sat himself opposite you, and a strong stench of cologne slammed into you.

“Hey,” he said, “can I buy you a drink?” He smiled, and you could tell that it was meant to be charming, but something about it felt...

“Oh…” you began, unsure of how to proceed. Off. It felt off. “I’m okay, thank you, though.”

“Come on,” he persisted, “let me buy you a drink.”

You looked around at the bar and your eyes stopped when you saw him, James, sitting a few tables away, laughing at a joke one of his friends had just made. He had come back?

“I-”

“Just the one,” he said, holding up a single finger and tilting his head to the side.

“Sure,” you replied, unsure of how else to get rid of him. “One drink, okay.”

He was an investment something or other. He liked to golf, he travelled often, his- His tie was distracting you as he spoke, something about the gold and the brown didn’t make any kind of logical sense in your mind and you pondered over it for the entirety of his monologue, sipping gingerly at the drink before you for something to do.

“So what do you do?” he asked, and it caught you off guard. He had been speaking about himself for so long that had it not been a painful experience you might have actually begun to doubt your presence in the conversation. He shifts his chair closer, leaning forward when you reply, and places his hand on the bare skin of your leg. “I think that’s so hot.”

You shift your legs so that his hand falls away, but a few seconds later, it's back, and higher than it had been the first time.

“Hey, I’d rather you didn’t-”

“Oh come on, baby, I bought you a drink, didn’t I? Let’s keep enjoying each other’s company.”

You don’t respond. Your chest filled with panic, your head with static, everywhere else felt as though you’d been dunked in ice. Your eyes moved around the room again frantically, and this time, when you saw James, he was looking at you. His expression shifted as he noticed your own, his head tilted the smallest bit, his eyes flitted to the man beside you, and followed his hand to where it was clamped around your thigh.

He stood abruptly, not excusing himself, and you watched as he approached, ignoring his friends who had called out to him.

As soon as he arrived at your table, you felt the static cease.

“Hey, doll,” he said, his tone casual.

“Excuse me,” the man interrupted, hand still on your thigh. “This table’s taken, we’re getting to know each other here, so if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Oh, I can see that, James interrupted, looking down at the man’s hand. “I see you’re getting to know her real well.”

“Okay, well-”

“I’m going to give you a few seconds, because I’m feeling generous. My friends tell me that counting down helps relieve anger, and honestly, I haven’t found that to be true, but I think if anyone was to benefit from me calming down, it would be you,” James said, voice steady as he placed his hands on the table.

“Dude, you’re literally wearing a flower right now,” he said, smirking at the daffodil still hanging from James’ shirt. The man - Chad? Brad? You couldn’t remember, scoffed as if to say “this guy, am I right?”

The second the sound had left his mouth, Bucky’s gloves had come off. Literally. You saw a flash of silver and then the heat from your leg was removed as the man went flying across the floor of the bar, knocking into some chairs. James looked towards his friends and both gave a single nod as they stood, and made their way over to Chad/Brad, having a quick word with the bartender as they dragged him yelling out of the bar.

“You okay?” James asked, bringing your attention back to him. His gloves were back on, and his hair had fallen into his face.

“Yeah. Yes, I-” and you were cut off by a sound that, you realised a second too late, had come from you. Tears spilled down your cheeks and the air you were expelling left you faster than it could come in. James sat down next to you, and you could tell he was unsure what to do. “Oh my God,” you said, once you could catch your breath. “This is such an overreaction, I’m so sorry, I-”

“You’re not overreacting. That asshole was trying to take advantage of you, you have every right to be upset,” he said. Your head dropped down into your arms, and as the tears continued to fall, you briefly wondered when the last time was that this table had been cleaned. “I don’t know what to-” he began. “I’m just gon-” and he stopped again. “You tell me if this isn’t okay,” he said, placing a hand on your back.

“‘S okay,” you said, and he moved in soothing circles as your breathing evened out and your sniffles slowed down. “Sorry for all the crying, it’s just, you always think you’ll know what to do in this kind of situation and when you freeze it’s terrifying like, why can’t I do something right now, you know? I mean, you probably don’t know, but-”

“I know,” he said. It was soft, and you believed him.

“Listen, I’m okay,” you said, lifting your head and wiping the tears from your face. “You should get back to your friends, I’m sorry for interrupting your night, you don’t have to comfort me, I’m a complete stranger-”

“What do you mean, ‘complete stranger?’ We go way back,” he said. It caught you off guard and you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m going to sit here until you feel okay,” he said. “Because that’s what friends who go way back do, and because I enjoy your company.”

There was quiet as you looked at him, his hand was still resting on your back and he suddenly didn’t know if he should leave it, or move away now that you weren’t crying. His eyes searched yours, and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, almost unnoticeably before you spoke.

“I’d like that.”

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c0smicheaux · 5 years ago

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Eleventh House in the signs

Aries-

When the eleventh house begins in Aries, things are never peaceful in this person’s social life. There are always new acquaintances waiting down the road, and this can make their approach a bit superficial because of the certainty life will always bring someone new our way. It will be easy to make friends but a little hard to hold on to them for very long. Boundaries need to be set and respected, as well as the dedication that flows both ways in order for their relationships to last. As if their God spoke through energy of Aries, these individuals often see life as a battlefield or a game that needs to be won. Once they open up to the Universal thought, they will realize where their energy lies and how to use it, show initiative, and move forwards just as they wish to.

Taurus-

The eleventh house in Taurus speaks of the importance of social life for a person’s material satisfaction. This doesn’t mean their relationships with friends have anything to do with money, although they easily could, but rather that the satisfactions of the Earth are recognized through them. They will learn about their senses through social contacts and often have many stable, loving and tender relationships that last a lifetime. This is a typical position for individuals who truly know how to nurture people they love, without unrealistic expectations, holding on to practical values and morals. There are no false pretenses here, for they wouldn’t last, and natural approach is the one that is easiest to incorporate into their life. Their deep desire for love, peace and emotional stability is so strong that it often doesn’t allow them to change in a proper time or the right way. If they remain flexible, this is a promise of joy and financial security at old age.

Gemini-

With the eleventh house in Gemini, we see someone who wishes to communicate has something to express and always finds several persons to listen. Friendships are fast, exciting and adventurous. There is always a lot to discuss and think about, while brainstorming is the most satisfying activity in their social encounters. On the downside, they can become too superficial out of their need to remain free of solid bonds, and while they would want to have enlightening encounters, they become less satisfying as they shut off their emotional side. The important thing to remember with this position is the importance of self-expression and our brothers and sisters, no matter if we have any from the same parents, or we have cosmic ones in our surroundings. For as long as ambition doesn’t make these individuals too static and committed to work, they should find the time to enjoy the benefits of this airy eleventh house.

Cancer-

If the eleventh house begins in Cancer, everyone in this person’s family will feel like friends. This is a strange position as the eleventh house should be there to free us from our emotional ties, but this is not the case here. These individuals have strong feelings for those they socialize with, have heightened senses around other people and treat others with empathy. However rational they might seem to be, there is something warm in their approach. The desire of the eleventh house in Cancer is in emotional awareness, acceptance and peace. In order to find it, they will have to embrace their emotional depths, however flawed they might seem. The truth is they deserve a calm, serene place in their hearts and minds, but their genetic inheritance stands in the way too often. If they haven’t been told they are beautiful, smart and special often enough when they were children, they should make self-affirmation a regular part of their daily routine.

Leo-

With the eleventh house in Leo, the image of friendships easily becomes more important than actual friends. On one hand, this is obviously a very important issue in a person’s life, and on the other, they tend to socialize only with people who make them look good. Self-recognition comes through other people and it can be difficult to steer clear of control and people who impose their will and show disrespect. The key to creating healthy relationships with this position is to put everyone’s individuality to focus. This doesn’t mean one should neglect their own inner being, but rather that each relationship formed should have a deep personal understanding and respect. Once they realize how each of their friends or siblings is special, without becoming envious or strangely tied to them as if they should become someone else, they will start to surround themselves by honest people with warm hearts. Desired respect can be hard to reach if they don’t have enough respect for themselves.

Virgo-

When the eleventh house is set in the sign of Virgo, there is often something wrong with friends this person finds. While in the best possible light this could show friends who are healers, truly intelligent and incredibly dedicated to their cause, in most cases it also speaks of betrayal of some kind and people who aren’t adequate to fulfill a person’s needs. There is always a question of what is truly deserved here, and it is typical for them to consider themselves unworthy of honest social contacts who as similar to them as they should be. Usually, a lot of time will pass before they realize who they need to be around with, and this comes with age and experience if they don’t close their heart entirely because of several bad wounds. The greatest wish for those born with their eleventh house in Virgo is to be grounded, practical and caring. Lucky for them, this can be reached through inspiring relationships, healthy routine and everyday simplicities of life.

Libra-

The eleventh house likes to be in Libra for its communication issues are focused on important relationships making it easy to form social contacts. However, the sign of Libra itself doesn’t exactly enjoy this position leading to too many changes in their emotional life, as well as breakups or divorce if they haven’t chose a partner who is both their friend and their lover combined. The search for balance these people need becomes clear in their relationships, emotional, social or professional. It is never easy to find it though, and they will jump from one serious social bond into another, in long time periods, as if they had no intention to settle for a friendship that isn’t perfect. The problem is - there is no such thing as a perfect person in this world, unless if you observe the entire humanity as a manifest of perfection. While these individuals reflect in their friends, they will never be happy this way if they don’t accept the imperfections in human nature.

Scorpio-

While many would think that the eleventh house in Scorpio is quite difficult and bonding, we shouldn’t forget that the sign of Scorpio is the sign of the exaltation of Uranus and speaks of the best friends we could find. Friendships in Scorpio represents our deep bonds for life, and they will be hard to achieve, build up, but extremely satisfying every step of the way. The depth these relationships are approached in is extreme and not always easy to comprehend. The preconditions for any true bond here are brutal honesty and the ability to turn to dark humor in the time of need. Individuals born with this position wish to reach emotional depth they don’t recognize within, and they are often not fully aware of this need. Their road in life will be based on reasonable choices and things they can cold-heartedly achieve, but their real goals will never be easy or at the palm of their hand if they don’t deal with family issues and emotional blockages they made along the way.

Sagittarius-

If the eleventh house is in the sign of Sagittarius, people who surround this person are benefactors, teachers, travelers, and open-minded friends who don’t mind differences in opinions, education or race. This is an inviting position as it speaks of all good men and women who have a lot to give, teach, and learn at the same time. Their friends can overdo the favors and the problem that appears in these souls will come from the inability to achieve anything alone. Once this person starts relying on others for help, they will wonder too far from their own character and burden those who wanted to show good faith. This is a wonderful position for all those special souls who came to this planet to reconnect with the Universe. God will speak to them as they breathe together with planet Earth, and find incredible joy in meditation and new techniques that will help them shape their future.

Capricorn-

When the eleventh house begins in Capricorn, friendships last, filled with patience and the sense of obligation. Without a strong basis, there is little that can be done to improve social life, and they need to be surrounded with those who come highly “recommended” by those they already trust. This is a closed circle of friends, as a loop that may last forever. Still, Capricorn doesn’t bring much joy into any house, and especially not in the eleventh. One will have to reach structure, have an organized schedule, and dedicate their life to finding the right balance that will keep them healthy and situated. Karmic friendships are typical here, and those a person is bound to form a strong bond with will feel familiar. Close friends met this person in the past, with their lives intertwined in a loop of karmic debt or reward.

Aquarius-

The eleventh house in Aquarius speaks of liberation a person needs. Slaves to our unhealthy routines, choices, habits and relationships, these people will have a clear wish to be free and expressed as exactly themselves in their society. While humane and righteous in their approach, they will rarely be brave enough to endure in their chases, unless if the Sun is extremely well set in a personal chart. This is a position that gives as many friends as we need, to be there for us, wake us up, and help us find our connection to the Universal thought. If the positioning is extremely difficult, they become aware of the direct link they have to the skies above and wish to go there before their time. In most cases, however, this is a position that allows individual growth through the group and gives the opportunity to truly become enlightened and free.

Pisces-

When the eleventh house is in the sign of Pisces, friendships are hazy and unclear. This is a person who has a task to find faith in others and it will always come with challenges and difficulties in their way. If they believe enough to spread love without many expectations, they could find those several soulmates that were deserved through previous lifetimes. Purity is the key to solid relationships, and with Pisces everything is prone to change and endings. Many friendships will begin only to end, pushing this person in the right direction. Others will be kept at a certain distance and lack intimacy. What these people need to do is sink in, and give in to every relationship that feels good without fear of betrayal or loss. If their friends are supposed to end up at sea, on another continent, or in their dreamland, this is fine for as long as they share an emotional bond wherever they are.

Source; astrology-zodiac-signs dotcom

#astrology #astrology post #astrology posts #astrology fact #astrology facts #astrology house #house in the signs #house astrology #astro facts #astrology placements

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kylosupremeimagines · 4 years ago

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Charlie Barber NSFW A-Z

(Special thanks to @driversmutbucket for lending me a helping hand with this! I think that the things we did with this turned out great, especially what they wrote!)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) Charlie loves to bask in post-orgasm bliss with you. Just laying together silently, drawing soft patterns on your skin. If it isn’t in the bedroom/home (which sometimes it certainly isn’t), a post-shag cigarette (a social smoker only since Henry was born) or drink at a bar where he can hold your hand and whisper sweet sentiments in your ear.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Charlie is a breast man. He loves grazing his fingers over your clothed breasts discreetly in public. He loves coming up behind you at home and creeping his hands up your top and just cupping them. When you sleep he will spoon you and cradle your tit. When you have sex his mouth and hands are all over them, kneading, sucking, squeezing and flicking your nipples. He will run his cock over them and between them - almost cumming on the spot if you let him titty fuck you. Charlie doesn’t look in the mirror often, he isn’t egotistical about his looks. His favorite body parts of his own are his hands, how big they look against yours, how one splayed covers a lot of your stomach or your ass. How much of your breast he can fit into his grasp. He is very visual, after all.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person) Charlie prefers his cum inside you, your mouth, your pussy, your ass, he doesn’t care. But he prefers not to cum on you, or on himself. A neat and tidy person by nature, this extends to his bedroom preferences, having to clean up cum ruins the post-orgasmic bliss.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He would love to have another woman join you in the bedroom but doesn’t know how to ask, just yet. It’s a matter of time before you come across his pornhub history and figure it out. Maybe he will just leave it up purposely for you to find... E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) As much as any typical guy in their mid-30s. He certainly gained experience when he studied performing arts, before meeting his ex-wife. He knows what he is doing, his confidence growing when you give him feedback. F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual) Any position where he can get his hands, or mouth on your breasts. Particularly fond of any variation of cowgirl, on the bed, sofa, chair, floor… G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc) It can go either way with Charlie, sometimes you’ll laugh and giggle like teenagers, especially if fooling around in a public or semi-public place. Other times Charlie can be very serious, whispering sweet declarations of love and affection.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.) Trimmed, neat and tidy, no fro’s to be found here. I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) For the latter years of his marriage, he felt as if his sex life was lacking, and since then he didn’t get much action as he prefers not to have one night stands with people he doesn’t know. But when he gets to know you enough and grows close to you, as soon as you get involved with one another, he’s going to treat you as perfectly as he can. Charlie will fulfill your every sexual need and desire, making sure that you’re as pleased as can be.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) Charlie had to rely on masturbation for a while, seeing as how Nicole barely - if at all - satisfied him for about a year before the divorce started. And as soon as it did, he couldn’t really rely on others doing it for him. Thus he resorted to masturbation. He’d mostly do it when Henry isn’t with him at his apartment, and will get really into it. Why not treat yourself right? He’d do everything to get into the mood, such as turn down the lights and put on some of his favorite porn. As he’s actually doing it, it’ll pretty much be what you expect.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks) Charlie isn’t heavily into any kinks in particular but is partial to switching, age play, light BDSM and breeding kink.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do) Not that he’s too mum of a traditionalist, but Charlie prefers to have sex in his bed, or somewhere around the house when Henry isn’t around. It allows for privacy so that you can get as wild as you want, and there’s no risk of anyone walking in on you. M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) You caring for and nurturing his son, Henry, does things for him. Parenting is important to Charlie because his own parents were absent and problematic. When you treat Henry like your own, it makes Charlie want to rip your clothes off and show you how much he appreciates you. Not to mention knock you up with your own baby.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) He would despise someone who is too self centered and mostly cares about their own sexual needs, and not his own as well. He thinks it’s only fair to be concerned with what you both want. With that being said, he also doesn’t like when his partner is too demanding of him. Of course he wouldn’t mind if you get a bit dominant, but if you don’t let him have any say from time to time, that’s when he’s going to be turned off. O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) Oh boy, Charlie loves receiving oral,especially with its unexpected and you suddenly are on your knees and pulling at the waistband of his trousers. He also loves eating you out, how his whole mouth can fit over your vulva and your reactions to his tongue. He is skilled at oral sex, especially once he learns what you like. P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.) It all really depends on the mood. Sometimes he will be on the slower side when he just wants to show his love for you. He will cherish every second, being more romantic than usual. Other times when you both really just need it, he will be fast and rough enough to leave you sore in the morning. However, most of the time it will be a good mixture of both.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) Sometimes you’ve just got to settle with a quickie. When it’s needed while either of you are in a rush, then he’s more than happy to do one with you. Even if it’s just quick, he’s still going to be doing wonders to you that will have you wanting more. R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) After spending the majority of the few years before meeting you in a rocky, mostly sexless marriage, Charlie was making up for it now. Role playing, different fetishes - he would try it, if it wasn’t for you, you would usually fall in a pile in raptures of laughter (like the time you tried to play teacher/student and you couldn’t keep a straight face when you forgot basic times tables). S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) If Charlie is really into it, then he could go on for a while, no matter how many rounds you want to go for. His desire to satisfy you is more than enough to keep him going in bed. T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) Charlie doesn’t really like to use toys on himself, because he can handle good old masturbation when it’s just him. However, when it comes to you, if you have any toys of your own, then he’s more than happy to use them on you. If it’s something common like a dildo or vibrator, he probably would know how to use it. If it’s something a little less common, then he may need you to explain how you like it to be used on you. But no worries, in no time he would be able to get the hang of it! U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He’s teased his son for years to entertain him when things got boring or he wanted to make him laugh, but he can translate that into sexual teasing for you. He won’t ever become too overbearing with it to the point it turns you off. While out in public, he may whisper things to get you in the mood for sex later back at him. Or he’ll teasingly make you wait for intimacy to see how long it takes for you to cave in for it. V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) When Henry is home, of course he’s going to try to be quiet as to not lead the boy to figure out what’s going on. But when it’s just you two in the apartment, he isn't’t going to hold back. Charlie will moan with every little pleasure, signifying that he’s enjoying what’s happening. He’ll also grunt while he’s the one pumping in and out of you. He’ll also say things such as “you like that?” in a low voice, just barely loud enough for you to hear. W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) At first, he was worried that he would not be good enough in bed since nicole was the last one that he was intimate with, and it wasn’t the best in his last year of marriage. He was self conscious at first but after the beginning of your sexual relationship, he got right back into it and was more than confident with pleasuring you beyond belief. X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) He is l o n g. Uncircumcised. To be honest he has a really pretty dick, never had you found a penis so blimmin’ appealing. He is the first person you have slept with who has been able to hit that sweet spot. You tell him that all the time, usually in between moans. Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) Especially after the time he had been without much sex during the last year of his marraige as well as until he got together with you, he’s going to havea pretty high sex drive for a while. He won’t get too crazy and demand it, but you’ll be having sex at least a few times a week if you can manage it; and boy would it be so worth it to be intimate with him.Z =

ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) After Charlie has satisfied you enough, he will want to hold you close and take in the soft moment after having gone full in with sex. Content himself, he will end up falling asleep as long as you’re in bed together, knowing how well things went.

#Charlie Barber #Charlie Barber Headcanons #Charlie Barber Reader Inserts #Charlie Barber X Reader #Adam Driver

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sxveme-2 · 4 years ago

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blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Eight: The One With the Party

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3083

Now, nothing in Lily's life ever really came easy, quick, or without some sort of repercussion. It was as though the universe had decided that she hadn't been through enough in her fairly young life already. Hence why it didn't surprise her when the communication between her and Bucky fell off, or more so, never really started. The day at the cafe had been nice, they didn't exactly speak and they were at separate tables, but even Rose noticed the shy glances her older sister would send to the man across the way. Which of course lead to teasing and taunting the rest of the night and for a few days.

Three weeks later, she hadn't seen him. It didn't help that the hospital had scheduled Lily for multiple shifts of overtime and staying late. Which resulted in Hunter spending extra days at Scott’s, and Lily not being at the cafe as often as she typically was. Flu season had come around and all parents believed their kid may have something more serious, but it was simply a lot of flu vaccinations, the odd time an appendicitis surgery. Routine procedures, just a lot of work.

On a chilly day at the end of September, for once, Lily could wake up without having to go to work for twelve hours or more. Her son snoring gently beside her after crawling into her bed from a nightmare the night before, and Joey snuggled at the end. Her deep green eyes fluttered open as the phone on her nightstand buzzed like crazy. Rubbing her eyes, Lily's other hand reached out to grab hold of the device, blurry eyes seeing Bucky's contact pop up on the screen.

With a groggy voice and a confused expression, Lily slid her thumb across the screen to answer, "Hello?"

"Lady Lily! It's Thor! Son of Odin!" a booming voice yelled into the phone, startling the young blonde. Her eyes glanced to her right to check to see that Hunter still laid fast asleep, and to ensure it stayed that way, the doctor slipped out of the bed and out into the hallway. When she closed the door, Thor continued his yelling, "I have stolen sergeant Barnes’s cellular device! I have overheard him and Captain Rogers discussing his feelings towards you!"

Lily winced at the loud voice radiating through her ear. She hadn't met Thor officially, just seen him with the others at the table weeks before. Personally, Lily wasn't interested in blondes, but no one could deny an attraction to the god. You could be the largest lesbian in the world and still would not mind getting down and dirty with the son of Odin. But of course, for the most part, Lily had only been staring at Bucky. And it didn't go unnoticed to many, especially the other Avengers

"I'm sorry? His attraction?" Lily muttered, still attempting to wake herself up from the much-needed sleep she had been woken up from. She wrapped one arm around herself while resting the other elbow on her hand, shivering slightly at the cool temperature of her home.

"Yes! This is lady Lily correct? If so, then I have an invitation for you! Sergeant Barnes does not know about this, nor does anyone else. But it is our dear friend Sam Wilson’s birthday!" he continued to boast, resulting in Lily holding the phone an inch or so away from her ear, "and I believe it would make Sergeant Barnes happy if you came. And bring your friend and sister! Sam has a small thing for lady Rose."

Before Lily could even answer, there was a crash on the other end of the line and the call went dead. Lily could only assume that Bucky had noticed the conversation taking place and shut it down, leaving Lily with a possibly life-changing decision on her plate, but she didn't know that yet. All she knew, was that Gen and Rose would go to any lengths to get Lily to attend the party, saying things like 'it'll be good for you' or 'you can see your loverboy again'. And Lily couldn't deny, she'd love to see Bucky again. But she'd be damned if she admitted it out loud.

-----

After walking joey, the three Osborne’s loaded into the car and drove down the busy roads of New York to Gen's cafe. Scott was picking Hunter up for the weekend, which meant that Lily was free for the night anyway, so maybe the party wasn't such a bad idea? But if you could deduce anything about the blonde, it's that she hated large gatherings and commotion. It made her anxious and paranoid about something that could go wrong. Plus, last time there was any real party like this in her life, she had been shown a video of her husband locking lips with a young brunette who looked about half his age.

"Hunt why don't you go see if there are any treats you can bring for Leila in the back," Lily whispered to her son with a gentle smirk on her face, "I have to talk to aunt Rose and auntie Gen for a few minutes." she continued, ruffling the boy’s hair and sending him on his way to the kitchen around the corner.

The two girls that were sitting opposite of Lily looked at her with matching skeptical expressions, both of their left eyebrows perked with interest as Lily sent her son away. Whenever this happened, Lily usually seemed to drop a ball on the two. Whether it was when she announced her pregnancy, being chosen as valedictorian, or when she shared the news of her divorce. Typically things that Hunter wouldn't understand, or wasn't old enough to know or mature enough to hear. But this was mostly so he didn't grow saddened at the idea of his mother hanging around his idols.

"So I was woken up by a strange phone call from Bucky Barnes," Lily began, and the two girls across from her simultaneously dropped their jaws. Lily held her finger up to signal that she wasn't finished with her story and for them not to jump ahead and get crazy ideas, "but on the other end was actually Thor. He invited us to Sam's birthday party tonight."

This caused shit-eating grins to replace the curious smiles on Gen and Rose's faces. Rose clapped her hands together, while Gen just shook her head in disbelief. These two women were Lily's closest companions in life. Rose was her biological sister that she had no choice but to deal with, sure, but their relationship was more than that. It was deeper and held more meaning than a simple sister relationship. They could lean on each other in times of need and never kept secrets, as far as the other knew. Most kids with multiple years between them aren't as close or never really bond, but Rose and Lily always clicked. Mostly because of their opposing personalities, which was the same as Gen. Gen was Lily's sister from another mister. From the moment they met, they were perfect, and things hadn't changed in all those years leading to this.

"Well, obviously we're going!" Rose exclaimed, pulling out her phone, "I will get the best dresses from my agency and ensure we look unclockable!" the younger Osborne sister beamed while excusing herself to make a few calls, to make sure they looked as good as she pictured. Rose seemed to forget that Lily hadn't agreed to go, but deep down, the eldest Osborne knew she didn't ave a choice.

"This is great! It'll give you a chance to see Bucky again," Gen winked, sipping her coffee. This was typically how the cycle of Gen's setups began, sort of. Lily would stumble across a guy that seemed interested in her, and Gen would stop at no end to get the two on a date. Of course, Lily never really seemed to have any interest in the guy that her best friend set her up with, but maybe this time was different. Maybe Bucky was different. And that's what Gen prayed about as well, "Maybe get to know him a little more. You get chatty when you're tipsy."

Lily Osborne drunk was a sight to see. All of the fear and anxiety she felt seemed to melt away with the ice cubes in her cup. That's why it was called liquid courage. One of the main signs of Lily being intoxicated was her desire to sing. for years, Lily sang in the choir, but always turned down solos, despite being one of the most talented singers that her school had ever seen. She was terrified that people would laugh at her, but if she was home alone, she sang like an angel. Her voice was soft and supple, and her ability to harmonize was unrivalled. Both Gen and Rose secretly hoped that the avengers would be able to be blessed with the sound of Lily's voice because it truly was as angelic as she was.

"I don't know if I even want to go. You know I don't do parties, let alone one hosted by the king of parties himself, Tony Stark." Lily sighed, twisting the straw in her lemonade around as she nibbled on her bottom lip. Her eyes glanced up to see Rose beaming out the window of the cafe, saying something to a designer or somebody on her phone. She looked so excited, and Lily didn't want to be the one to take that away.

Not after the past few weeks, Rose has had.

"C'mon, Lil," Gen sighed as if reading her best friend’s mind. the brunette reached her hands out and cupped Lily's frail and nimble ones, a soft and gentle look on her face, "Rose is excited. For the first time in weeks. Plus, nothing will happen. I'll be there, and so will Rose. Plus, I doubt Mr. Winter Soldier would ever let anything happen to you anyways. Buddies totally whipped."

"Mr. Winter Soldier? really?"

-----

After Scott had scooped Hunter up from the cafe, Lily stole the two adult women away from whatever they were doing, leading them to the car. But, Lily apparently wasn't allowed to drive. It was around two now, and Lily had to get back home to take joey out on his afternoon walk. But no matter the protests she gave, the younger sister was the one behind the wheel and had control over where they went either way. Lily accepted her fate and leaned back in her seat, attempting to figure out where Rose was have taking them.

Recognizing upstate new york, Lily glanced over towards the blonde that sat next to her. The young mom had figured out exactly what Rose was planning in that mischievous head of hers. One thing with all Osborne’s is their ability to not only think on their feet but figure out what was happening around them without anyone telling them. the art of deduction, in a way. But not that advanced, just piecing together their surroundings and doing the math. And with where they were, Lily knew that Rose had the genius idea to take the two other girls to a hair salon to get all nice and done up.

"Yeah no, I can do my hair," Lily stated, crossing her arms over her chest and putting her foot down. No way in hell was she letting another person that she didn't know, do her hair. She had a perfectly good hairdresser down in the suburbs of Manhattan and was fine with just going there for when she needed a haircut. And today? She did not.

"Let me check again...Gen?" Rose swivelled in her seat to look at the back where Gen sat, attempting to hold back a laugh, "Which one of us is the doctor and which one is the stylist?"

This caused Gen to let her giggles escape as she rested her velvety hand on Lily's shoulder, leaning forward towards her best friend, "Rose makes a fair point. You specialize in children's health, she specializes in adult fashion. C'mon, it'll be fun."

Once again, despite her protests, Lily was overpowered and dragged into the salon. The moment she was asked what style she was looking for, she answered, beating out her younger sister in deciding what would look best. She requested a simple hairstyle, possibly a ponytail of sorts. The hairdresser nodded along and got to work. Luckily, no hair was cut off or changed, and it was a simple styling appointment for her and the other girls.

Half an hour later, the three were back in the car, this time, with Lily behind the wheel. The three sang along to the radio as they returned to lower Manhattan, where the suburbs laid. Lily had managed to convince Rose to do her makeup instead of a hire professional, claiming Rose had the same talents as they did. It was true, Rose was a wizard with a makeup brush. Plus, it was fun to see her sister so focused on something like this. All of the pain of the past few weeks forgotten as she created a beige smokey eye on Lily, an a darker version of the same thing on Gen.

After she glanced in the mirror, Lily didn't believe it was her. She looked matured and awake, instead of the typical baby-faced ball of stress she was on a day-to-day basis. She stared into the mirror with a shocked yet elated look on her face, enjoying the feeling of confidence that rushed through her. She was Lily Osborne, full-time doctor and mother, older sister to two siblings, and a survivor of a toxic relationship. But it seemed that all of that confidence shattered when Rose pulled in a rack of dresses for Lily to try on. All tight around the hips and bust, made for girls with hourglass figures who hadn't given birth to a baby. Something that Lily wouldn't be caught dead in.

"Not happening. I refuse."

-----

Compromise. that's the lesson of this section. Taking other’s options or opinions and your own, and finding a common ground. That was the foundation of Rose and Lily's relationship. Learning to compromise with each other to keep the peace. And that was the result of their dispute of the dresses Rose had brought in. Most of them were sleek and tight, almost like a second skin. And as pretty as Lily felt all done up, she didn't have near enough confidence to rock one of the body-con dresses her sister had brought.

In the end, she decided on something a bit more classic and Lily-like. A lake blue dress with spaghetti straps holding it up. It had silver lace decals spread all across both the lower plunging neckline and a-line tulle skirt that hit just below Lily's mid thigh. A piece of mesh fabric kept the cleavage that Lily had tucked in, instead of placing it on display like the majority of the cocktail dresses Rose had brought in. The deeper blue helped extenuate the green of Lily's eyes, which was complemented by the light golden shimmer that laid atop of her eyelid. Her lips were a pink nude with a touch of gloss to create a shiny effect, and her hair was pulled into a pony connected by two criss-cross pieces of hair, with two strands falling forward to frame her face. One word to sum it all up, breathtaking. Lily radiated in her outfit, and anyone who saw her would have no choice but to agree. And if they didn't? They were either delusional or lying to themselves because she was stunning.

Rose, on the other hand, was embracing the small window of time she had left without showing the baby bump. She adorned a burgundy lace dress that hugged her curves like a glove and came to a halter top point around her neck. Her golden blonde hair laid across her shoulders in a curly river, with deep red lips to compliment the dress. Her eyes were done a bit darker than both Lily and Gen's, making her forest green eyes stand out as well. Rose and Lily were blessed with the looks of their mother. High cheekbones, plump lips and a perfectly sculpted nose that tends to make most jealous. Although Rose knew her worth and understood her beauty, Lily had a harder time coming to terms with it due to the anxiety that plagued her mind. It created a constant reminder that she just wasn't enough, and to try harder.

Gen stayed true to her out-of-the-box aesthetic and wore a suit jacket dress that reached her mid-thigh, with a pair of bright yellow pumps to create a splash of colour in her outfit. Her braids were pulled into a high ponytail, and a darker smokey eye created a glowing ring around the amber eyes that she was blessed with. Her plush and plump lips were painted a deep maroon, and she looked like a businesswoman who had men falling at her feet. When in reality, she was the most easy-going and relaxed person you would probably ever meet, and would rather die than ever be stuck behind a desk at a corporate job.

The three ladies corralled themselves into Lily's car and began their journey towards the avengers compound a bit before the event started. Rose had instructed Lily to leave at a time that would make them fashionably late, to keep Thor guessing whether or not his invitation was accepted or not. Plus it built up the suspicion of the others around the man. Somehow Rose knew all of this, and Lily guessed it was because of her extensive work in the fashion industry. Having to tell people what will make them look their absolute best. Both fashionably, and socially. And who was Lily to argue?

When they did arrive, Lily let out a shaky breath before turning off the car. There was no turning back now. They had drove all of this way, and Lily knew Rose and Gen would be pissed if she chickened out now. Plus, she doubted that they would even let her. Honestly, the two would drag her in by her toes if they had to. Out of Lily's best interest of course. They wanted her to move on and live her life outside of work and Hunter.

"Come on Lil, let's go get the tinman to fall in love with you."

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tlbodine · 4 years ago

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Literary vs Genre Fiction

The divide between literary and genre fiction is one of those topics that gets endlessly debated in writer circles. You’ll see it making the rounds on social media every time a book gets some buzz for busting out of its category. You’ll hear it in MFA programs across the country. But what even is literary fiction? How is it actually different from genre fiction? Is one better than the other? Why does anybody care?

A lot of smart people before me have thrown their hat in this particular ring, but I’m going to try tackling this one anyway.

First Off: What Do We Mean When We Say “Literary Fiction”?

Defining the thing is almost the hardest part of this whole discussion, and that may be part of the reason why people argue so endlessly about the literary vs genre divide -- if you don’t have a clear definition of the categories, that divide can be drawn up just about anywhere.

So before we dig into characteristics of literary fiction, let’s look at some clear examples. The Booker Prize is a literary award specifically given to works of literary fiction, so it stands to reason that winners of that award would be the best examples of the category, right? Here are some recent Booker Prize winners (as pulled from Powell’s bookstore):

Margaret Atwood - The Testaments The sequel to A Handmaid's Tale, told as testaments from three female narrators in Gilead, a dystopian setting where women have been stripped of their rights.

Bernardine Evaristo - Girl, Woman, Other Twelve central characters, mostly black British women, lead intersecting lives with struggles of identity, race, sexuality, class, etc.

Anna Burns - Milkman A girl identified as "middle sister" catches the unwanted attention of "the milkman," a local paramilitary, and has to deal with the threat of violence and spread of rumors.

George Saunders - Lincoln in the Bardo A father-and-son story about Abraham Lincoln and the 11-year-old son who died of illness in the midst of the civil war, leading to them both struggling in a type of purgatory.

Paul Beatty - The Sellout A satire about an isolated young man who ends up at a Supreme Court race trial after trying to reinstate slavery and segregate the local high school in an attempt to put his town back on the map.

One thing becomes immediately clear about literary fiction when skimming through the titles and summaries of these award-winning books: These novels are well-nigh impossible to summarize in a way that actually sounds enticing.

So okay. What are some genre fiction books, for comparison? There are genre fiction awards, like for example the Hugo award for Sci-Fi/Fantasy:

Mary Robinette Kowal - The Calculating Stars A cataclysmic meteor collision in 1952 causes an accelerated effort to colonize space, leading to a woman fighting to join the astronaut team in this alternate-history book.

N. K. Jemisin - The Stone Sky The third in a trilogy of post-apocalyptic novels about two women with the power to avert destruction of mankind.

Cixin Liu - The Three-Body Problem Against the backdrop of China's Cultural Revolution, a secret military project makes contact with aliens whose civilization is on the brink of destruction, leading them to plan a takeover of earth.

There’s also the Edgar Award, which is given to mystery fiction (it’s named after Edgar Allan Poe):

James A McLaughlin - Bearskin A man on the run takes a job as a park ranger, but runs the risk of being found by the men he's hiding from when he tries to expose some poachers.

Walter Mosley - Down the River Unto the Sea After spending a decade in prison for a crime he was framed for, former-detective King works as a private investigator whose investigation of his own frame-up leads him to cross paths of a journalist with a similar story.

Sujata Massey - Widows of Malabar Hill In 1920s India, Bombay's only female lawyer investigates a suspicious will on behalf of three Muslim widows, a case that takes a murderous turn.

These aren’t the best summaries in the world, but there does seem to be a stronger sense of both plot and character in the story concepts. At least, when someone asks, “What’s that book you’re reading about?” the genre fiction ones will have a somewhat easier time explaining it.

So What REALLY Separates Literary From Genre Fiction?

There are a lot of battle lines drawn between genre and literary fiction. I’ve heard it argued that literary is about character while genre is about plot; that literary is about the quality of the prose while genre is about the story; that literary is about experimenting while genre is about adhering to formulas. That literary is about expanding horizons while genre is about escapism and comfort. That literary is about realism and genre fiction is about fabulism.

I think there’s a nugget of truth in all of these, but I’m not really happy with any of them.

So I’m going to toss out my own hypothesis: I think the difference between literary and genre fiction is the way tropes are employed.

“Okay, great, but what are tropes?”

I’m so glad you asked. Fiction tropes are a type of shorthand. They are things that we the audience have seen before, so we know immediately what they mean. Tropes exist in characters, plot points, settings, concepts -- you name it. Here’s a sampling of tropes you might be familiar with:

The tough lady-cop whose dad was a police officer

Thanks to a mix-up, two people with hidden romantic feelings book the last available room at a hotel but there’s only one bed

A man goes on a quest for vengeance but destroys himself in the process

The wise old man who teaches the young hero valuable lessons but then dies before the pivotal battle

And so on, and so forth. Every genre has its own tropes -- a formula, if you will. In that sense, genre fiction is formulaic, but that doesn’t make it easier to write; actually, a big part of the challenge is in giving fresh twists to familiar tropes. Readers of genre stories demand certain tropes; the author has to deliver on those demands in a fresh way.

By comparison, I would argue that literary fiction does not rely upon tropes. There certainly are tropes and conventions that emerge in literary fiction -- a middle-aged academic struggling through divorce, for example -- but these tropes are more often than not met with irritation, not delight. Readers of literary fiction are looking for fresh insights and innovations, not familiarity.

Tropes are powerful tools. They are the mythic seed of storytelling. They are the archetypes that pass down through generations. They are a sacred backbone of mythology and folklore. Genre fiction, at the end of the day, carries the torch for storytelling in a long and (ha, ha) storied tradition from our prehistoric days huddled around a campfire.

Literary fiction, on the other hand, eschews tropes -- with their agreed-upon meanings -- in favor of assigning fresh meanings to things. Literary fiction is chock full of metaphors, but it’s the author, not convention, that determines what those metaphors mean and how they’re employed. Literary fiction reinvents the wheel. When it succeeds, it hits on depth and emotional resonance that can be life-changing for the reader. When it fails, it comes off like so much navel-gazing nonsense. So it goes.

Fiction Wars and Gatekeeping

The problem with the literary vs genre fiction divide is that it never stops with “This is how these categories are defined.” The problem is that people will insist on ascribing moral significance and hierarchy to them.

Literary fiction is viewed as being smarter, deeper, more meaningful or more valuable than genre fiction. If a genre fiction story manages to break out and gain wider appeal, suddenly people will start ascribing to it literary attributes (whether or not the book and many others in the genre had them all along). And that is all a bunch of nonsense.

It’s the exact same thing that happens in horror fiction -- when a horror story goes mainstream, suddenly it becomes a “psychological thriller” or a “dark drama” or anything other than horror, because “horror” is an inferior genre.

The fact of the matter is that literary fiction gets elevated over genre fiction for systemic reasons:

Most MFA programs focus on writing literary fiction, which means that a lot of lit-fic authors come out of those programs, which means that literary fiction is often the domain of upper-middle-class, frequently white, people who can afford to graduate from those programs

A focus on dense prose and “difficult” writing means lit-fic books must be analyzed and interpreted; it’s hard to read, making it exclusionist to people who lack formal education

Lit-fic dominates awards, gets pushed heavily onto book clubs, is talked about more often on daytime TV and so forth (because it is perceived as being better/more important, thus creating the ongoing cycle)

Basically, lit-fic gets held up as an example of Fine Culture. And any time something is designated as Fine Culture and High Art, it is subject to a completely arbitrary classist distinction meant primarily to keep out an undesirable element (women, BIPOC, poor people, you name it).

That’s not a problem endemic to lit-fic itself. It’s really a problem of the culture surrounding it, and attempts to hold it to a higher esteem than genre work.

Cross-Pollination Is Inevitable and Desirable

How do tropes get made?

Someone comes up with a new metaphor, concept, character, or idea that resonates so deeply that others who follow borrow that same thing and its meaning, and it gets repeated enough times that it becomes a stock trope.

In other words, every single piece of genre fiction exists because someone writing in some other established tradition decided to experiment and go off on a tangent to create something really fresh and new -- and knocked it so far out of the park that people were compelled to follow.

People like to pretend that the overlap and blurred lines between genre and literary fiction are somehow a new trend, but the fact is that this has been the trajectory of fiction-writing for the whole history of storytelling.

Literary agents have a term for this: Upmarket fiction. Books that “transcend” genre definitions to appeal to readers on either side of the aisle. And those are highly sought-after books, because they have the potential of bringing in double the readers.

So, snobby gatekeeping aside, is there any real reason to argue about the definition of literary vs genre fiction?

I’d say...no. Not even a little bit. I’ve got a mix of both on my shelves. I incorporate a mix of both in my writing. And I don’t see that changing any time soon.

A Final Note

I mentioned above that lit-fic tends to be written by people in MFA programs, and I wanted to touch on that again as an MFA drop-out and someone who was once warned by a teacher not to bring “any more of that genre nonsense” into the classroom.

I can understand, from a teaching perspective, why writer’s workshops would want to focus on lit-fic. From the perspective of learning how to write, forcing writers to derive stories from their experiences, to dig deep into themselves and ascribe unique meaning to things, to develop their own metaphors and hone their craft at the sentence level -- all of that makes a lot of sense. Banning genre tropes is a way to force writers to hone their craft without leaning on the work of generations of storytellers before them, and as a teaching tool I think that’s actually really valuable.

But I think it’s pretty important that we keep that in context. The lit-fic focus in writing classes should be a teaching tool first and foremost. It should not be the end-all and be-all of writing classes.

This post topic was voted on by my Patreon subscribers. If you would like to vote for future posts and get early access to posts before they go live on tumblr, you can become a patron here: https://www.patreon.com/tlbodine

#writing #literary fiction #genre fiction #on writing #long post

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years ago

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Ok, I think I'm ready to give it a try! I saw that matchups were open, so I'd like to request a romantic matchup! I absolutely adore your writing and the way you analyse every detail - you're a huge inspiration to me in terms of writing.

So, I'm a russian bisexual cis girl. I don't think appearance matters much, but I'll write down the basics just for fun! I'm quite short(5'2) in comparison with most of my peers, considering, that I'm 23. I'll be lying if I said that it doesn't bother me, since all my life people were making fun of my height and weight. I was always very short, thin and pale due to bad upbringing. I'm learning to love my body, but it still bothers me from time to time. I have very long deep brown hair (down to my waist) and green eyes. I'm actually quite proud of my hair! It was always my dream to have long hair, but my mom would cut it short each time. She still makes comments about my hair, and that it's 'gross', even though I take very good care of it. I've also been wearing glasses for my whole life, since I was born prematurely and my eyesight is just HORRENDOUS. But it doesn't bother me at all, since I've been living like this my whole life.

Okay... I think that's enough for appearance! As you probably guessed, my familiy's really not the best one out there. And that's putting it lightly. I don't talk about it much now, since I don't live with them anymore and I got over my trauma, but... My childhood was VERY rough. Sadly, it really affected what kind of person I am now, so I'll go over the basics. My mom was extremely abusive: verbally and physically. My dad was always busy at work and she threatened me not to tell him anything, so... I never told about it to anyone. I never cried, since she would get angry at me for 'looking scared'. I used to be proud of that, but now I know how much it was ruining me. Long story short... My dad found out, they divorced and he and took me away. I suppose, that's a happy ending, but I was already 12 at that moment and the damage already has been done. I have some trust issues, although I've gotten WAY better, and I'm still working on myself. Still, it's hard for me to open up, since I'm always expecting the worst and I don't want to be hurt again. There's also some triggers that I have to avoid in my everyday life, but I've learned to deal with them in my own way. Still, they're there, and sometimes they can get the better of me.

My tragic backstory aside, I'd love to share some more positive details about myself! Currently, I'm studying psychology and working part-time at a bakery. I guess my experience with trauma taught me a lot, and so I decided that I want to help people the way, that I wished someone would help me then. Sure, I've managed to heal and move one by myself, but it didn't have to be that way. I want to help people and make them feel heard and understood. I love my work as well! I find something comforting in this kind of routine, but maybe it's just because I enjoy cooking so much. Yeah, cooking is one of my passions! As I mentioned before, I barely ate when I was a child, so now I'm trying to eat as many different things as I can! God, I especially love korean and japanese cuisines! And I'd love to cook for my partner every day. Or, maybe, we could cook together! Although, in terms of intimacy, it's hard for me to be open with someone. Not because I don't want to be close to my partner, but simply cause I have no idea what I'm doing. I was never even hugged as a child. This kind of affection is... foreign to me, even though I do crave it. I totally don't mind physical affection, but my partner would probably have to take the lead at first!

In terms of hobbies... I love writing. Although that's a very personal one, than I keep mostly to myself. Oh, I'm also a huge science nerd! I was one since childhood, haha. Instead of toys, I was always reading some kind of book. My favourites are probably biology and paleontology. I'd absolutely love to share with my partner many random facts about animals or other stuff! People always told me that it's boring and lame, so... It means the whole world to me if someone actually appreciates my interests. Oh, I'd love to watch some nature documentaries and add my own knowledge here and there! I'm also a huge animal lover. When I was a kid, finding a connection with animals was always way easier, then with other kids. Gosh, I used to spend the whole day with a bunch of chickens, haha. Everybody always told me that they're stupid, but I found that they are actually quite smart and caring animals! And it's not just chickens: I've had a tendency of 'taming' street animals, such as cats. Everybody hated them, and called them 'rabid', but... they were just scared. Sure, it always took some time to earn their trust, but I don't mind that at all. In fact, every single animal that I have today has been previously abused or abandoned. I guess... I have a personal connection to them in some way. Nobody wants an aggressive animal and nobody wants to give them a chance. It's not like they WANT to be this angry all the time. I also really want to own a parrot in the future! A cockatoo, to be exact. They are a very difficult bird to own and that's why I'm waiting for the moment, when I will be able to give it the care it needs. It has been my dream for a long time! Now, in terms of kids... I don't know if I'll ever have one, so that's important to consider. And even if I will, I totally don't want to go through pregnancy itself. I'll probably adopt. But... then again, I'm not sure if I ever will. I love kids, sure, but actually raising one... it's such hard work, and I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready for that responsibility. I'm fine with my animals, haha. But, I appreciate someone, who could take me out of my comfort zone from time to time. I have a tendency to chicken out due to my self-doubt, so a small dose of occasional tough love would be welcome. Oh, I'm also currently learning korean! I plan to study there after I finish my degree here, so that's something to think about, haha.

Music is also one of my passions! I'm ALWAYS wearing headphones, so that could probably be annoying, I guess lmao. I listen to pretty much everything: from musicals to pop. Although, I definitely prefer to have some meaning in songs I enjoy. In fact, I tend to overanalyze the stuff I enjoy to ridiculous extend: from music to characters in shows I watch. People often find that stupid, sadly.

My ideal date would be... something, that has a special meaning to us. It doesn't have to be something elaborate or loud. For example, going to the specific place in the park, where we first held hands or something. It sounds ridiculous and cheesy, but... I love to show people I care about just how much they mean to me. And that means finding deeper meaning in everything we do.

Okay, I think that's wayyy to long, but I'm done lmao

I'm very interested in reading your take on things!

I match you with...

Zen!

You've got a passion for what you love. It means a lot to you to lose yourself in the music and imagine all sorts of things. it just makes you feel good inside. Even if others don't understand that you're in a world of your own... it's everything to you. It makes you feel nice and being able to share that with others means that you trust them. And, despite what you've gone through, you've got a positive outlook on life ahead of you, you just want someone that understands your limits and your desires.

The reason why Zen stands out here is that you need someone who understands you. Your love of music is so much like his love of arts and the theatre. When you talk about what makes you happy, he just starts to smile and laugh. He's always wanted to hear someone who is as passionate as he is. He could listen to you for hours. He wants to watch the stars with you and talk about everything and anything at all.

He also empathizes with a parent hating at your looks. He wants you to know that you're lovely and beautiful, even if your parent told you otherwise. It's not true. You've always been lovely. He wants to make you feel special and seen. Think about all those selfies he wants to take with the two of you!

#anon #ask #mod kait #matchup #hyun

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miraefmd · 3 years ago

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updates & changes restructuring prompts

assuming your muse has changed in some way, be it internally or as a result of a change of the external factors around them, how is your muse different?

well... her faceclaim has changed, which i feel actually represents most of the character changes she’s had pretty well, but that is almost certainly something that only makes sense to me and is not surface-level obvious to an outsider. mirae has changed a lot less than ash has, but she’s got a little more background and journey now within her past in the industry.

firstly, i gave her dad back his hobby of singing in his little hobby indie rock band. wish mirae had that, but i removed it for silhouette mirae when she became dance focused over vocal focused. i’ve given it back to her now because i feel like it works well with who selene mirae is, which is very well-known for her stage presence and performance. her dad would drag her up on stage sometimes to his little free shows with an audience of like fifteen people, and that sparked her love of the stage. he’s still an author as how he makes money (when he makes money... his books aren’t bestsellers and mirae does support him quite a bit financially now that she has a steady cashflow and he divorced her mom).

there’s more focus on her having made the choice to keep mostly to selene without venturing too much into solo activities despite being presented several chances that she pretty much threw away over the years now (her viral fancam in 2013, parasite’s success). a lot of her changes are reflected in her established career claims, so i’ll more in depth about that in that section.

since this is the section for it, though, abracadabra soty. she wasn’t so sure about the whole era at the time because the sound was very different from what selene had been doing and was twenty and her role in the mv was quite sexual, far beyond the bounds of what she’d acted at that time. in retrospect, she really loves the era, though, because it marked the beginning of selene stepping outside of the typical idol box and the choreography is fun to perform despite its simplicity. petition for mirae to get felt up by female dancers in more of their choreographies.

version two of mirae was very ambitious and version three still is, but it’s more explicit in her background that she’s often suppressed her individual ambitions in favor of the group.

what does your muse think of their company and their group?

mirae loves selene. she very aware of the gift being able to debut within selene is. she’d been let go from her old company and dropped out of school by the time she became a gold star trainee and her family had nowhere near the money or network to secure a future for her. she had to secure it herself and she’d given everything to secure that as an idol, only for it to be ripped away. joining gold star and being put in selene was a saving grace. she would love the group to some extent even if she’d been put into a group she didn’t like, but selene’s concepts have fit her like a glove over the years. it could be argued their debut song was too sexualized, but, at the time, mirae loved it and felt it showed the best sides of her.

idol girl groups aren’t always given the chance to mature at the same pace as their members, but mirae is grateful that eleven years after debut, selene is still releasing music that doesn’t feel out of place for women in their late twenties and early thirties. she’s never grown tired of standing on stage as a member of selene and has no desire to see them disband in their lifetimes. she doesn’t know how the others feel, but she’d love to release an album when they’re in their sixties or seventies to prove they’ve still got it.

gold star is the entity that allowed selene to exist, so she’s grateful toward the company. she doesn’t have any particular negative feelings toward the company, but she’s also aware companies are companies and it doesn’t make sense to ever glorify one entirely. she has no plans to leave gold star at this time.

is your muse on their first contract or their second? if they’ve renewed, what were their feelings around that at the time and what were their hopes for their second contract? if they haven’t renewed, what are their current thoughts on the end of their eventual first contract?

mirae renewed her contract with gold star in 2017. she never seriously considered leaving the company, but she did take renewals seriously. it was around that time she realized she’d had her career for seven years and although selene had tons to show for it, mirae as an individual hadn’t shaped much of a name for herself. she’d acted in a well-received film in 2013 and gone viral for her stage presence, so her name had some weight behind it, but she’d seen others who debuted around the same time rise to cf queens or solo artists, meanwhile mirae was best known for being in selene to most.

it’s not that she didn’t want to be known for being in selene, but she’d been taking acting lessons the past four years even though she wasn’t acting and that seemed like a waste when it was something she had a passion for. when it came time for meetings about contract renewals, mirae expressed that she wanted to be able to pursue acting more consistently that she had been. it was an early step into allowing herself to have ambitions beyond selene, but a crucial one that it may have taken her longer to make had contract renewals not come into the equation.

she worried that their second contract would mean waning activities for selene as a group, which happened a little bit, but not as much as mirae had feared beforehand. right now, she’s happy with where her second contract has landed her and wouldn’t be opposed at all to signing on for a third in a few years time.

what are your muse’s goals and motivations?

when she first became an idol, her main goal was to make a living. she’d never really known financial security growing up and she was lucky to have what she did have. this, at times, conflicted with her own personal determination to do what made her happy. the topic had been a source of contention between her mom and dad for a long time, with her dad not contributing much financially to the household but being much happier with his job than his mom, who was the main source of income for the family. mirae was much closer to her dad and favored his approach to life, so whenever she thought too much about her own deep need for financial security, she doubted if she was pursuing idoldom with the right intentions, but she usually worked out eventually that if she really wanted money, becoming an idol under a fairly small company (as the one she first trained under was) was far from the most reliable way to go about that.

now, at twenty-seven, mirae is mostly driven by a desire to grow and challenge herself. she’s found financial security and it doesn’t look to be going away any time soon, so she wants to become someone who is very fulfilled personally instead. it’s a luxury she can worry about such a thing and, because of her history, she knows that. with the foundation of money solidly built, she’s turned her focus to building the foundation of a legacy she’ll have when the day comes she can’t act or sing or dance or model with the same energy and health she has now.

what is one conflict, internal or external, that your muse is currently dealing with, has recently dealt with, or will need to deal with in the future?

i’ve touched on this multiple times already, but mirae struggles with the idea that striking out too much on her own might somehow hurt selene. she’s not sure where the idea came from and if she sits down and thinks about it logically, it doesn’t make much sense, but it might come from a place of fear more than anything else. she’s dealt with hate comments for speaking her mind and being unapologetically herself for years now and she has pretty thick skin, so it’s not that, but dedicating herself to individual activities risks loneliness or not living up to the expectations set for her by all the praise she’s earned as a selene member. whenever she finds herself on the verge of a potential breakthrough as an individual, like with her acting debut or her viral fancam or parasite’s global success, she’s balked at it a little. she wants to stop doing that and embrace it if she gets another chance like that. she's trying to do that right now with her viral dance performance video from her youtube channel.

another conflict she’s dealing with is her relationship with her family, specifically her mom. mirae and her mom have never gotten along very well, and her mom never supported her in being an idol. even now that mirae’s successful, her mom doesn’t seem to approve and mirae can’t tell if it’s pride or genuine disapproval that causes that. she tries her hardest to be a good daughter to her mother like she is to her dad, but it comes much less easily to her because she’s never really gotten any kind of obvious approval from her.

if your muse has established career claims, what are their thoughts on their career so far? if they do not, how do they feel about not having individual activities yet? what would they like to do in the future, if anything? if they don’t have ambitions for individual activities, explain why.

mirae’s main area of established career claims is in acting. she made her acting debut in the film miracle in cell no. 7, which was a big success. after that, she didn’t take an acting role again for almost five years when she took on a supporting role in the film heart blackened. acting became more consistent after that with a role in parasite in 2019 and her first lead role in space sweepers in 2021. she’s only acted in films so far, although this year, she starred as the female lead in platinum’s “remember that” music video.

in 2013, a fancam of her performing selene’s song “up & down” went viral for her charisma and stage presence. for a brief moment, she had a surge in popularity as attention turned to her skills as a performer and her visuals, but she turned down the offers that came her way for individual activities and the effect of that faded with time.

mirae’s long held an interest in fashion, so when her newfound global popularity following parasite got her an offer to attend paris fashion week in spring 2020, she took it. it confirmed for her that she wants to do more in the areas of fashion and modeling, whether through the gateway of her acclaim as an idol or actress or on her own merits as a model or style icon.

mirae’s solo activities have been spread out across her eleven year career and she hasn’t fully utilized them to the potential they had to propel her forward as hwang mirae and not only selene’s mirae, but she is proud of them and the work she’s been able to accomplish.

#famedrstask1 #+ 10 ecp

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linkspooky · 5 years ago

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The Characters of Nisioisin (3)

Trickster - Kaiki Deishuu

Nisioisin often uses and reuses a lot of common character archetypes in his writing. An analysis on his common use of liars, thieves and cheats by comparing and contrasting the differences between Kumagawa, Iichan and Kaiki. More underneath the cut.

A. Defining the Trickster

Already covered in this post.

1. Introduced as a Villain

In the story proper Kaiki is introduced to us as the opposite of Araragi. If Araragi is the person who saved Senyjogahara’s heart, then Kaiki is the one who broke her heart. If Araragi is a hero who saves everyone, Kaiki is a callous villain who cons people and doesn’t seem to care about the consequences for those he cons.

Their interaction with every character they both interact with is the opposite. Araragi helps Senjyogahara, Kaiki stole her money and ruined her family home even though they are both positioned as people Senjyo once loved and thought of as a savior. Araragi saved Nadeko from the curse of the snake, whereas Kaiki is indirectly responsible for her being cursed due to selling curse charms to middle schoolers.

Araragi heroically faces off against Gaen to defend his sister, while Kaiki is the one who sold the information about Tsukihi’s location to Gaen in the first place for a quick buck. In every instance, Araragi saves, Kaiki cons.

Kaiki is also one of the few characters that Araragi shows an open disdain for. Araragi who is usually a very passive protagonist, and will go with the flow and talk casually with people who have beaten him half to death and is overly forgiving outright despises Kaiki on sight.

However, it’s important to remember that Kaiki calls himself a villain when making his first introduction to Araragi. He intentionally places himself as the villain so that Araragi can play the hero, even calling him “Manly”, “Cool” and “Grown-up” for doing so, implying again that Kaiki is his opposite. Kaiki however is a liar, and when he calls himself a villain intentionally that also is a lie.

2. Subverts Expectations

Everything we learn about Kaiki in his first introduction in Niseimonogatari is inverted later on. He is a character who exists to play upon other people’s expectations and cast everything into doubt. There’s even a meta aspect to this, originally Koimonogatari was foreshadowed to be Senjyogahara’s narration debut only for Kaiki to take the mantle of narrator from Araragi instead.

Ladies and gentleman, dear readers and all of you who picked up this book expecting Hitagi Senyjogahara to be the narrator have been duped. The lesson you should take home from this is every sentence ever written down by a book is bogus.

-Koimonogatari

Koimonogatari is a book that exists to flip everything set up by Nisei. It is a book where the villain saves the girl (Nadeko) whereas the hero is someone almost completely helpless the whole story (Araragi). You could even say that it’s Araragi’s actions which created the problem for Nadeko, as his complete ignorance of her, and his coddling of her helped push her to want to become a god.

Koimonogatari also starts a turning point in the series, where Araragi who had been a straightforward hero until this part starts to have his character deconstructed. Araragi who is constantly remarked upon as a hero who tries to save everyone, we find out that in Owarimonogatari is not only are there people he never even made an attempt to reach out to and help (Sodachi Oikura), but that Araragi is someone who uses obfuscation and self-deception to cover up his bad traits. He is someone who cares far more for the appearance of being good and helping others, then the actual work of helping others. This is again an idea that is set up in the intro to Koi.

Humans have a desire for truth. or they have a desire to believe what they know is the truth. Kaiki brings up the example of the higgs boson particle that moves faster than light. Plenty of people will find this change in the truth alarming, even though most normal human beings aren’t physicists and won’t even bother to look at the math or data that proves the Higgs-Boson particle and will just read the headlines and take other physicists at their word.

People often care more for the image of something, than the actual thing. That’s true for Araragi as well who isn’t as noble as he appears to be and is for all intents and purposes a normal people. Kaiki is presenting us with the image of himself as a villain, because that is general is easier to accept then viewing himself as a more complicated person. Kaiki also, prefers to view himself as a villain rather than what he really is, which is a failure.

Araragi uses obfuscation to hide his bad traits, but as his foil, Kaiki always desires to hide his good traits. The reason being that Kaiki as a person when he acts with good intentions, things always tend to go opposite of the way he planned them. Kaiki feels in control when he lies, he can control others by lying to them, manipulating them, duping them, but reality is something entirely out of his control. He can try to save someone only to have the completely opposite effect.

“You tore apart the Senjyogahara - and backed her parents into a corner from which divorce was the only way out - because nothing else was going to work, right? You judged that the only daughter would have no future if you didn’t cut her mother off from the family.” “Uh huh, that’s right. I was actually a standup guy. A real sweetheart, just looking out for a kid. I was only putting on a show of being nefarious. You’ve got all the details, don’t you? You’re really well informed. But don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s embarrassing.”

-Koimonogatari.

Kaiki is ultimately someone afraid to be good. That’s his weakness. He knows his good intentions are not guaranteed to produce good results, and he can’t face himself when his failures spiral out of his control so it’s easier to present himself as a villain. Kaiki, much like Iichan only feels comfortable when he’s deceiving everyone around him. He exists to subvert other people’s expectations because it’s a way of grabbing back control, in a world that Kaiki is mature enough to realize by now is completely out of his control.

3. A Lying Liar Who Lies

When Kaiki said every word written down in every book ever are lies, what he’s talking about is narrative. People who see the world in narrative view are applying a lens to reality to make it more palatable and easy to understand for them. Once again, they are preferring to hold onto images and preconceptions, the idea of the truth rather than the truth itself. It’s true that books are like reality, but people will often craft a narrative about reality in order to believe everything has direction, meaning, and a purpose when there is none.

Kaiki is also one of those people. He embraces crafting narratives, and telling lies because it gives him this idea of control he otherwise would not have. Kaiki is someone who doesn’t have a lot of control over his own life. If you take him for his word in the book he has almost no background, no family, he’s legally dead, and he’s a wandering vagabond that never remains in the same place for long. Kaiki’s way of reclaiming that stability and agency is to always craft a narrative around himself wherever he goes. He’s the one in control because he’s conning everyone else around him at all times. He acts like he always has all the cards in his hands, and he’s the smartest person in the room, because he can’t admit how afraid he is of not being that. Of being vulnerable.

Kaiki goes one step further not just by calling himself a liar, but believing the whole world is made up of lies. He’s not just a fake, everyone is. A world of fakes desperately struggling to be real.

“The second you say it out loud to someone, it deviates from your true feelings. All words are lies, it’s all a scam. No matter how true, the moment you utter it, it becomes embellished. Words are only representations, so impurities find their way in. If you want to make a wish, to make it exactly as it is, you absolutely mussn’t say it aloud.” - Koimonogatari

Yes, Kaiki I’m sure this speech has nothing to do with your fear of ever letting your intentions be known.

This is also something Iichan directly calls out in his own struggles with lies, the truth, and the trust in other people you have to find between them.

Hime-chan said everything was a lie. I agree, that must be the truth. But- really. Really, really, really you know. If this world were like what Hime-chan said, if this world were like what I think. We would not be suffering like this. Do you get it? If everything is a lie and there is not one ounce of truth - if ther is nothing of comparison, then everything ends up being the truth, too. - Zareogoto Vol. 3

Kaiki is able to call out Nadeko’s assertion that everyone in the world is a liar, everyone was misleading her and leading her on so easily because that is the same narrative lens he applies to the world to cope with it.

Let’s return to the Senyjogahara household again. Basically imagine you're Kaiki, a homeless man with no family who spends all of his time in luxury hotels and you're watching what looks like an ideal happy household. They are a rich loving family, with a good marriage, and their daughter is basically the school idol. What you Kaiki would call “Normal Law Abiding Citizens” the kind of life he could only dream of.

Traditionally held values say that these people should be happy forever, because they're good people doing the right thing. But the things the world tells us have meaning, are secure, have no meaning at all and easily fall apart.

So, he watches this good family, get struck by misfortune and fall apart. The loving mother sells her daughter to a cult basically, even though she originally joined the cult because of her daughter's sickness.

Now what's an easier story to swallow? That good people do bad things and good circumstances can easily turn bad for no good reason at all.

Or is it easier, and more meaningful to swallow that Kaiki showed up, conned them, caused the parents to get a divorce and therefore he's the villain in the scenario. By being the villain he turned the scenario into a story, he gave it meaning.

The first time I met Hitagi Senjogahara - two years ago, in other words - I thought to myself, What a fragile-seeming kid. Of course, back then Senjyogahara was afflicted with her mysterious ailment, which is why her devout mother had summoned me, flying the flag of the ghost buster as I was. But even without the ailment business, I thought she seemed “fragile.” The impression hadn’t changed. Fragile. [...] Fragile, on the edge of fragmentation. Which is exactly why her current self was a miracle. A mysterious ailment followed by a miraculous achievement - for someone who seemed so breakable to make it so far without ever breaking, not two year sago, not now, for eighteen years - The mother broke. But the daughter Didn’t. -Koimonogatari

So Kaiki says he thought Senjyo and her mother were fragile, but he probably thinks that about everybody. He's cynical and disaffected because he's seen this kind of thing happen again and again. That's why he tells lies, that's why he manipulates, it gives him the illusion of control over a world not only him, but no one else has any control at all.

There are two sides to the story of Kaiki’s perception of Senjyo. First, that people are more fragile than you think they are. Even if you come from a good household, have a loving husband, and have money you can break. The second is that people are less fragile than Kaiki thinks they are. Even if your mother turns against you, you lose your money, status, and family you still might not break. Both of these things are true at the same time, people are both more and less fragile. There are truth, and lies, and even Kaiki is unable to face reality directly because he prefers to stare into lies and shrowd himself in them then ever confront the truth.

4. Themes of Nihilism

Kaiki case believes everything is worthless and everything will be eventually lost so he thinks it's pointless to cling to things. However, that doesn’t have to be an inherently negative idea. Nihilism the rejection of the idea of inherent meaning, is also something that can lead to creating meaning which is where we get existential nihilism.

Nihilism is the precursor to existentialism. To find your meaning in life you have to first reject the meanings that other people give you.

With respect to the universe, existential nihilism posits that a single human or even the entire human species is insignificant, without purpose and unlikely to change in the totality of existence. The meaninglessness or meaning of life is largely explored in the philosophical school of existentialism.

He basically tells Nadeko that he likes money because the value of money is something entirely made up by people and yet it’s still something that has value.

Kaiki loves replacable things while at the same time hating irreplacable ones, because he hates the way people tend to cling to things forever. Almost like, Kaiki himself is someone who always clings to his first love that he lost over ten years ago and doesn’t try to love anyone else, or find anyone else and Kaiki hates himself.

Existential nihilism also means rejecting what society tells you to think has value, because you have to reject first before you can come up with your own meaning. Which is literally exactly what he guides Nadeko to do, he tells her to reject the thing which she thinks gives her life meaning, her love of Araragi and then find a new meaning instead in being a mangaka. and that she can do this because everything is worthless therefore she can try anything.

He also suggests that the work of having to create her own meaning to life, and follow her own dream, will make her far more satisfied than simply following the job of a god which was given to her by someone else.

Humans are always changing their minds about what has value and that makes them human and Kaiki thinks that's a wonderful thing, that's existential nihilism, they're always inventing new meaning. Kumagawa is someone who always loses, but he tries again an infinite amount of times, and that struggle to keep trying again and again is what makes him human in Kaiki’s mind. It’s not the result, not the happiness or sadness, but rather in the constant searching for meaning that defines yourself. Once again. Kaiki sees the freedom in that. There is nothing in life that will make you truly happy, there is no meaning to life, but there’s freedom because it means you can try as many times as you want.

Everything is worthless. Everything will eventually lost. However, because of this it also means that you’re never going to lose something that will destroy you permanently. Because the things you were holding onto were worthless in the first place, you can always try to replace them. You can always try again and find something else. There is no ending that will permanently end you, there’s no loss you cannot suffer. Araragi is not really that important to Nadeko, she can live without him, she was only giving him that importance. This is also the compelte and exact opposite of Iichan’s a fatal would speech.

Iichan is someone so terribly afraid to hold onto anything, because he feels the process of trying over and over again at something he’ll never succeed at is going to completely destroy him.

And Kaiki would tell Iichan the same way that he tells Nadeko that him constantly stumbling over his own actions and trying to find meaning in them, is something in itself that has meaning. That's what makes him human, his search for meaning. But philosophically Iichan isn't there yet. He's still a little baby nihilist. Tiny. Infant. He hasn't grown up yet.

“A man devoid of hope and conscious of being so has ceased to belong to the future.” “The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart.

One must imagine Sisyphus happy

[Albert Camus]

So if you were to put iichan at one end as the baby nihilist, and Kaiki as the adult (kind of) nihilist then the adolescent Kumagawa would be right in the middle. That’s the way to compare the three, Kaiki is a mature adult who has figured out the way he wants to live his life, Kumagawa is someone constantly in flux like an adolescent, desperately struggling to reach the point where Kaiki is where he’s decided how he’s going to live and not quite there yet and therefore always doubting himself. Finally, Iichan is a child who wants to cling onto his immaturity and his completely wrong views of the world because he doesn’t want to face them or have to change. All three of them are liars, and but the lies they tell are different and that brings us to the end of this comparison.

#kaiki deishuu #monogatari #niseimonogatari #koimonogatari #nisioisin #nisio meta #monogatari meta

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basicsofislam · 4 years ago

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ISLAM 101: Muslim Culture and Character: Morals And Manners: Studying and Learning (Part 1)

The basis of acquiring knowledge is reading and studying. The first revelation of God’s Word to Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him), the first command of his Prophethood, began with the command, “Read!” This announced a fundamental principle. Let us revisit these verses in Sura Alaq, the first verses of the Qur’an to be revealed:

(1) Read in and with the Name of your Lord, Who has created–

(2) created man from a clot clinging (to the wall of the womb)!

(3) Read, and your Lord is the All-Munificent,

(4) Who has taught (man) by the pen–

(5) taught man what he did not know! (96:1–5)

The first revelation begins with the command to read the miracle of creation through faith in God and knowledge of Him. Then it refers to the creation of human beings, encouraging con- templation on this miraculous occurrence in the second verse. It continues with another directive to “read,” and refers to “the pen,” “teaching/learning” (between God and people), “knowing” and “knowledge.” It is one of God’s great blessings that man, at first an insignificant being, was given knowledge that elevated hu- mankind to the highest level over all other creatures. Being taught not only knowledge, but also the use of the pen, humankind has thus been entrusted with the duty of spreading this knowledge far and wide, using it for development and progress, and preserving it for future generations. If it were not for the revelation of God and the blessings of abilities that are represented by “the pen” and “the book,” humanity could not have accomplished all the achieve- ments that have been constructed on the accumulated wisdom of centuries.

The basic state of humanity was unenlightened until God blessed us, allowing us to grow in knowledge. At every stage knowledge was given as a blessing and the doors of learning were opened by God. That which people thought they themselves had developed, in truth was given to them by their Creator without their realizing it. For this reason, everyone who has some knowl- edge should recognize the true Source of such blessings, praising and turning to the One Who granted them, and employing them in a manner that is pleasing to God. This will ensure that knowl- edge will never separate a person from God or cause them to for- get Him.

Any “knowledge” that distances a person from their Creator is divorced from its basic purpose. It can never be of benefit to peo- ple or make them happy, for it can produce only evil, depression, or destruction. As such knowledge has deviated from the Source of knowledge it has lost its direction and no longer leads to the Path of God. Therefore, it is crucial that someone who attains knowledge not forget, even for a moment, that the power and au- thority the knowledge has brought can be used for right or for wrong, and all persons will be responsible to the Originator of that knowledge for the way it is used.

“Knowledge is power,” or as the Qur’an says, “…whoever is granted the Wisdom has indeed been granted much good” (Baqara 2:269). In this verse, the word al-hikma—often translated as “the Wisdom”—means “beneficial knowledge.” Knowledge that is bene-ficial to people will also elevate the status of the person who knows. The Qur’an also says that those who know God cannot be on the same level with those who do not: “Is he who worships God devoutly in the watches of the night prostrating and standing, who fears the Hereafter and hopesfor the mercy of his Lord (to be likened to that other)? Say: ‘Are they ever equal, those who know and those who do not know?’ Only the people ofdiscernment will reflect on (the distinction between knowledge and ignorance, and obedience to God and disobedience,) and be mindful” (Zumar 39:9). This last verse makes it clear that knowledge must be used together with the ability to reason, drawing particular at- tention to the fact that any knowledge based on knowledge of God is true knowledge and beneficial to those who possess it. In fact, knowledge has a potentially destructive power in the hands of those who do not use their reason, merely acting in sheer ignorance of God. Beyond this basic adab of knowledge, let us now examine the further sayings of Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be up- on him, on this topic.

At every opportunity, the Prophet drew attention to the im- portance of knowledge. One day he said to Abu Dharr, “O Abu Dharr, if you leave your home in the morning to go out to learn a verse of the Qur’an, this holds more blessings for you than per- forming a hundred rakats of supererogatory prayer. And if you leave your home in the morning to go out to acquire knowledge, this holds more benefit for you than performing a thousandrakats of supererogatory prayer.”1 In another hadith God’s Messenger said, “When God wills blessings for someone, He makes them knowledgeable in religion.”2

Moreover, keeping knowledge from people, unless one is forced to by circumstances, is not a desirable act. This was made clear by the Prophet, who said, “If someone is asked to share their knowledge but they hide it and do not speak, they will be bridled with a bridle of fire (on the Judgment Day).”3

The Prophet also made it known that spiritual knowledge, which puts a person on the right path and leads to righteousness, is more valuable than the greatest worldly treasures: “By God, it is better for you that God should give guidance to a single person on the right path through you than that you should acquire a whole herd of red camels.”4 At this time, red camels were very precious, and a person who owned such a camel was rich; extremely few people owned an entire herd of red camels. This comparison, therefore, clearly shows the value of knowledge that leads to good, and of leading others to good.

Yazid ibn Balama once asked, “O Messenger of God! I have memorized many of your sayings. But I am afraid that those I memorize later will make me forget those I memorized earlier. Tell me a word that will help me retain all the things I have learned without forgetting the others!” The Prophet replied, “Stay upright before God in what you have learned (and that is enough for you)!”5

One of the most esteemed Companions of the Prophet, Ibn Abbas, gave the following advice: “Tell people one hadith per week. If this does not seem enough, recount two or three. And never cause people to become bored with the Qur’an! When peo- ple are talking amongst themselves, never let me see you walk up and interrupt them to teach them something. When they are speaking, be quiet and listen. If they come to you and ask you to talk, then you should teach them on their request.”6

In addition to choosing the appropriate time, it is also impor- tant when teaching ethical principles or religious knowledge to choose a level that can be understood by one’s audience. Some people try to appear knowledgeable by using a style and manner which is not clear or understandable. This is wrong, as it goes against the proper manners of speaking to people in a way that makes sense to them. No less a person than Ali ibn Abu Talib said, “Tell people things they can understand. Do you want to be re- sponsible for making God and His Messenger misunderstood?”7 He meant that plain and clear speech should be used, especially when speaking of spiritual matters. Ibn Mas’ud also said, “If you say something to a gathering which is above their intellectual ca- pacity, it will certainly lead some of them into mischief.”8

Someone who lives an exemplary life and tries to please God by teaching other people and sharing knowledge is on the Path of God, and God is indeed pleased by such a person. Kathir ibn Qays explains, “I was in the Mosque at Damascus sitting beside Abu al- Darda. A man came and said, ‘O Abu al-Darda, I came from the Prophet’s city of Medina to ask about a hadith that I have heard you are relating.’ Abu al-Darda, in order to find out whether this was really the man’s intention, asked, ‘Could you also have come to do business (trade)?’ ‘No,’ he answered, ‘I did not come to do any such thing.’ He asked again, ‘So you did not come for any- thing else other than to hear a hadith?’ The man replied, ‘No, I came only because I heard that you know hadith.’ Only when he had established that the man had truly come to win God’s pleasure did Abu al-Darda say, ‘I heard the Prophet of God say, “God will make the path to Heaven easy to anyone who takes to the road looking for knowledge. Angels lower their wings over the seeker of knowledge, being pleased with what he does. All the creatures in the earth and sky, even the fish in the sea, pray for God’s help and forgiveness for those who acquire knowledge. The superiority of the scholar over the worshipper is like the superiority of the moon over the stars (i.e., in brightness). Scholars are the heirs to the Prophets. For the Prophets left neither dinar nor dirham (units of money) but knowledge as their inheritance. Therefore he who acquires knowledge has in fact acquired an abundant portion.”’”9

The following points can be deduced from the hadith:

Any effort or endeavor that is expended on acquiring knowledge is counted as effort or struggle made on God’s way, and this leads a person to Paradise. To put it simply, the path of knowledge is the path to Heaven; what a beautiful path it is. The angels come to the aid of one who is on this path, and all creation offers prayers for them.

The difference between the scholar and the follower is like the difference between the moon and stars, for knowledge is a light that illuminates a person’s whole surroundings and the community of the knowledgeable person. It shows the right path to everyone. However, a person who sim- ply follows, even if they perform a great deal of super- erogatory worship, does not benefit others in the same way. Their worship benefits only themselves. Those who choose knowledge, on the other hand, bring blessings down upon themselves and all those around them.

Scholars are the heirs to the Prophets; the only thing the Prophets left as an inheritance was knowledge. When schol- ars choose the path of learning and the pursuit of knowl- edge, they win the honor of inheriting the legacy of the Prophets. One of the Prophet’s Companions, Abu Hurayra, was almost always at the Prophet’s side. He would listen to all the Prophet’s teachings, carefully memorizing his say- ings. One day in Medina, he spoke aloud to the people milling about on the street: “The Prophet’s inheritance is being divided up; why are you wasting time here? Go and claim your share!” The people said, “Where is it being dis- tributed?” Abu Hurayra said, “In the mosque.” So they ran to the mosque. But soon they turned around and came back, and Abu Hurayra asked, “What’s happened?” They said, “We went to the mosque, but we did not see anything like what you said being distributed.” So he asked, “Was there no one in the mosque?” They answered, “Yes, we saw some people; some of them were praying salat, some were reading the Qur’an, and some were talking about the per- missible and the prohibited.” Hearing this, Abu Hurayra told them, “Shame on you. That was the Prophet’s inheritance.”10

The Qur’an mentions the adab of sitting in the gatherings where a scholar or spiritual guide is teaching to increase one’s faith and knowledge:

O you who believe! When you are told, “Make room in the assemblies (for one another and for new comers),” do make room. God will make room for you (in His grace and Paradise). And when you are told, “Rise up (and leave the assembly),” then do rise up. God will raise (in degree) those of you who truly believe (and act accordingly), and in degrees those who have been granted the knowledge (especially of religious matters). Surely God is fully aware of all that you do. (Mujadila 58:11)

When knowledge, which leads one to greater piety and a bet- ter religious life, and allows others to benefit, is added to faith, God will exalt its owner by many ranks. God commanded the Prophet, “(O Muhammad,) Say, ‘O my Lord, increase me in knowl- edge!’” (TaHa 20:114).

In full submission to this Divine order, the Prophet prayed, “O God, make the knowledge You have taught me benefit me, and continue to teach me knowledge that will benefit me. Increase me in knowledge. God be praised at all times.”11 This prayer in which Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, asks God to make his knowledge beneficial to him is also complement- ed by another prayer in which he sought refuge in God from knowledge that would not prove beneficial.

Why do humans learn? Why should knowledgeable people be so highly regarded above all others? The answer to these questions can be found in the Qur’an: “Of all His servants, only those possessed of true knowledge stand in awe of God…” (Fatir 35:28). So it can be said that one reason for this is that scholars make it possible for others to know God better and to better understand the message of the Prophets of God.

God’s Messenger taught that it was worthwhile to envy two things. One of these is when someone takes the possessions God has bestowed on them and spends them in the way of God. The other is when someone blessed with knowledge and wisdom becomes a teacher and shares that wisdom with others.12 This means that when one acquires knowledge, one should then teach it to others; it is not wrong to “envy” (desire to be like) a person who does this.

The Prophet said the following regarding studying, literacy, education, making our knowledge a source of good for others, and educating others: “It is incumbent upon all Muslims to acquire knowledge.”13 As we can see, studying and learning are of critical importance in Islam. These hadith confirm the Prophet’s teaching,

“Knowledge and wisdom are the common property of every be- liever; wherever they are found, they should be acquired.”14

The technology we have today is without a doubt the product of knowledge. It is easy to understand, looking from the perspec- tive of the heights of knowledge, from the science and technology that have been achieved in the modern world, why Islam empha- sizes knowledge and education so strongly. Is it possible to ignore its importance when we are surrounded by all the useful fruits and products of intellectual inquiry? Certainly we must listen well to the teachings of Islam on this matter and show greater concern for educating the next generation if we are to solve some of the cur- rent harmful trends. Instead of leaving them material possessions, we should spend our money to make sure they receive opportuni- ties to become truly “rich” in knowledge. Ali ibn Abu Talib said, “Someone who has money will have to protect it, whereas a person who has knowledge will be protected by it. Knowledge is a king; possessions are captives. And when possessions are spent they di- minish, while knowledge increases when shared.”15 Highlighting the excellence of knowledge Prophet Muhammad, peace and bless- ings be upon him, said, “Be of those who teach or those who learn, those who listen, or those who love knowledge. If you are not in at least one of these groups, you are headed for destruction.”16

The adab of learning applies not only to those who are teach- ing and learning religious studies but all types of useful knowl- edge. Here we give some details for our younger brothers and sis- ters who are students, regarding the adab of learning to add to what has been quoted above:

If at first you don’t succeed do not lose heart.

Classes should be entered with a mind that is prepared and willing.

Listen to a teacher with your spiritual ears.

When you don’t understand something, always ask.

Try to make friends with successful students and get tips from them.

Always plan and organize your time.

Always try to be the best.

Don’t go on to something else until you have understood what you are working on.

If what you are studying is practically applicable, learn it through application.

Do not maintain ties with people who discourage you from learning or dislike your studying.

Be respectful and humble towards your teachers.

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