Blood sticks, sweat drips
Break the lock if it don't fit
A kick in the teeth is good for some
A kiss with a fist is better than none
———
wait what do you mean a red string of fate ties us together but all we do is strangle each other with it. what do you mean this string can only stretch and tangle but never break and yet we keep biting and gnawing on it to try to free ourselves from it anyway.
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safehouse era jmart because i am clinging to the five minutes of fluff we were given with my fingernails
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Thinking about Harry and all the animal parallels that follow him through the narrative. It's true that these animal parallels reflect the way that the brutality of individualist moralism strips him of humanity as someone who has fallen through the safety nets, and his agonised shout of 'I don't want to be this kind of animal anymore' can be interpreted as a direct admission of the RCM's dehumanisation of him as a disabled addict who is no longer as 'useful' as he once was. Gottlieb even directly tells him '[he] lost [his] human visage a while back.' Jean calls him 'the most dangerous animal of them all'. The rabid dog that needs to be put down, the black dog (also a common metaphor for chronic mental illness!) that Mollins shoots as it licks its wounds; the scared, hurt, frightened animal lashing out, chewing off it's own leg to escape the trap that it's caught in. The wild dog is all they can see.
But then there is a flipside to these parallels too; a kindness, a gentleness, almost a freedom in Harry’s animal parallels. He's strong like a 'goddamn ox,' like a bear ('I had to kill the bear to become the bear'). He's a harrier hawk, a name given to ensure his safety, raised up to the level of the aerostatics looking down over Revachol, 'soar[ing] on the wings of [his] spirit hawk.' He's a leopard ('its impossible to know where you end and the leopard begins'), discovering or rediscovering a love of softness and sensuality that he'd not known before via the leopard print leotard that 'speaks to the animal inside [him]' and touches on his relationship with his gender ('Yes, this is the type of animal I want to be.').
He's a 'seagull', a bird that will do 'whatever it takes to survive,' a 'bird of paradise' that tells a story of 'endurance- and adaptation' ('You! You and the seagull are just alike!'). He survives, despite everything, despite the grimness of the world around him. He endures. Even the sea monster comparison is oddly kind ('You've become a sea monster -- giant, hidden and... strangely tender at heart'). Even as a monster, he's still gentle; he still has so much love for this world that has wrung every last bit out of him. As if his tenderness is such an inherent part of him that no matter what monstrous face he wears, no matter what creature is there in his shadow, he cannot help but have some trace of it at his core. His tender soul 'quivering like jello.' The pain he feels is raw and animal but so is the love he feels. So is the hope and the fear and the wonder.
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Thinking about how WoT #6 makes it really clear what Aes Sedai think of women who've been stilled. The aversion, the fear, the disgust and near-reproachful attitude. Thinking of how show!Moiraine likely worried about this at least subconsciously in regards to Siuan after being shielded. Thinking of Moiraine trying desperately to hold onto her conviction as she soldiers forward in her mission, all the while cringing hopelessly away from the idea of Siuan looking at her differently now that her powers are gone. Wondering if the absence of that commonality would change the way Siuan spoke to her, respected her, loved her. Thinking of how carefully Siuan handles it once Lan tells her, how nimbly she tries to step around the pain she knows rips Moiraine apart. How gently she tries to shoulder Moiraine's burden, how willing she is to do whatever it takes to protect their mission and protect Moiraine too. Thinking about how all this goes unsaid yet is so, so clear because Rosamund and Sophie are fucking goddesses
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