mjsparkour

[mjsparkour]

Secret third thing tension

Okay, welcome to my third installment of things having a hyper fixation off in my head so it has created word vomit so precise and brain rotted that it could threaten to create a black hole in the space time continuum. Today’s hot pot (crackpot) of words you’ll read is the tether I’ve connected between paulirulan (Dune, the Denis Villanueve movie version) and sydcarmy (The bear), which is secret third thing tension.

This begs the question what do we mean by secret thing tension? The answer lies in how elusive it actually is. I can only really compare it to its cousin, the trope that almost always has some sort of secret thing thing type of tension: the fail marriage. I’ve talked about fail marriages enough, y’all kind of know what it is at this point. Secret third thing tension is always at the scene of the crime for fail marriages because those relationships are incredibly dynamic and hard to define. The common characteristic among all secret third thing ships. The key of the dynamic is that it’s not 100% romantic, but it is certainly not platonic either. It’s that secret third thing.

These two dynamics are not just ships; they’re experiences—electric, restrained, and teetering on the edge of something that feels too big to name. It’s a slow-burn tension so potent it’s practically its own genre.

Okay time to get into it. I will get as unhinged as I want idc.

Let’s start with the core of why both sydcarmy and paulirulan have camped out in my mind rent free and are having a hyper fixation off. Both pairs are trapped in dynamics shaped by external forces that make any kind of release romantic, emotional, or otherwise—feel forbidden. For Syd and Carmy, it’s the high-stakes pressure cooker of running The Bear, a restaurant that’s less a business and more a shared fever dream. Their partnership is built on mutual respect, shared ambition, and a bone-deep understanding of each other’s creative chaos. But the restaurant, their trauma, and carmy’s emotional constipation (I will drag his ass to therapy myself idgaf) keep them locked in a professional purgatory. They can’t cross that line, not because they don’t want to, but because the stakes (their dream, their livelihood, their fragile trust) are too high. It’s almost as if they can’t see anything else; so when all they can see is each other naturally, they clash, because with time to take in their dynamic for what it actually is —or could be, there is confusion.

Now, with paulirulan, upcoming fail marriage of the century in Dune messiah (if Denis does my shit right) — Paul, the messianic Muad’Dib, is bound to Irulan through a political marriage that’s more strategy than affection. Their dynamic is defined by duty, power plays, and the weight of an empire. Irulan, poised and calculating, is no mere trophy wife; she’s a player in her own right, navigating the same cosmic chessboard as Paul. The movie does its due diligence in crafting her as something of an intellectual/imperial equal to Paul in a way that is not done in the books. In Dune part two she is propped as a competent bene gesserit and even her father tells her “she will be formidable empress”. Yet, their connection, especially as Villeneuve seems to be setting up for messiah, feels charged with something unspoken. It’s not love, not yet (and maybe never), but it’s not nothing either. The tension comes from what can’t be said or done, because the galaxy is watching, and Chani’s shadow looms large.

In both cases, the forbidden nature of their bond isn’t just about external obstacles (a restaurant, an empire). It’s the internal restraint, the way they hold themselves back that makes it hot and crazy as fuck. The invisible barriers between the characters are prominent and that enables the unspoken which becomes the loudest thing in the room.

Neither of these dynamics fit neatly into boxes labeled “friends” or “lovers.” They’re something else, a liminal space where every glance, every shared silence, feels like it could ignite something catastrophic. For Syd and Carmy, it’s the way they orbit each other in the kitchen, finishing each other’s sentences, reading each other’s minds, eye fucking. Ie: that fucking table scene where they are legit inches apart, fixing the chaos of the restaurant together? That’s not platonic. That’s not romantic. That’s intimate in a way that defies categorization.

Paul and Irulan, meanwhile, are playing 4D chess with their dynamic. In Dune: Part Two their interactions are sparse but loaded. Irulan’s watching Paul, analyzing him, maybe even admiring him, while Paul is too consumed by his own destiny to fully engage. Yet, the framing in Dune: part two in that last shot (those lingering ones, the way Irulan’s poised exterior cracks just slightly HELLOOO) it just screams that something is simmering. That final shot with Chani, Paul and Irulan being the only one standing, it’s foreshadowing DOWNNN. I need a proper love triangle, I need a double hit of fail marriages. I’m an opportunist. I’m greedy and I want the two for one special. I think this could be a really well done and actually compelling love triangle if given the chance because by the end of the movie, I think you really do question if the love even exist on both sides in said, love triangle. But I digress!

This “secret third thing” is what makes both dynamics so compelling. It’s not about whether they’ll kiss or confess (they might not but idgaf that’s not the point). It’s about the ache of what’s unsaid, the way their restraint feels like devotion. It’s the way Syd looks at Carmy when he’s spiraling. It’s the way Irulan might write about Paul in her histories, her words betraying a fascination she’d never admit aloud. It’s fucking insanity because it’s all undefined. Which makes it the perfect most reflective type of relationship dynamic to put on TV/films in the era of situationships. Secret thing thing is so relevant!

The thing about this type of dynamic is the fact that they are defined by tension that never resolves. That is what inherently makes it so akin to romance. It’s what throws off all of these signifiers to audiences and viewers that this is something that you want to pay attention to. In the bear, Sydcarmy have these moments of connection, where it feels like something could build and there’s ease, but they’re always interrupted. Sometimes it feels like we’re cats and they’re putting yo-yos in front of us and expecting us not to whack the fuck out of it, like no, you can’t have that! Stop being insane then! Whatever the point is every time they get close then the universe, someone, something pulls them apart. It’s hot.

Paulirulan are similarly doomed to this cycle of almosts. Their marriage (based on Messiah’s trajectory and the setup I don’t know nothing about what’s going on in that set unfortunately) is a union of necessity, not desire, but the undercurrent of what if is like stupidly palpable. Irulan’s ambition and Paul’s godlike burden mean they can never fully meet in the middle, yet their shared orbit—her as his chronicler, him as her subject—creates a dynamic that’s crazy electric with restraint. Anyone who eats period dramas up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner knows restraint is hot as fuck. Every interaction is coded with something. It’s a negotiation, a dance, a question left unanswered.

This lack of release is what makes both dynamics feel so romantic, even if they’re not explicitly so. The longing, the almost-touches, the weight of what’s at stake—it’s all part of a build up that makes it feels like love, even if it’s not labeled that way. It’s romance characterized by what is denied and that creates this forbidden love-esc energy to it that boggles the mind.

The “forbidden” vibe in both dynamics is what has really been doing me in. For sydcarmy, it’s the unspoken rule that they can’t cross the line from partners to something more—not when The Bear is their baby (that carmy babytrapped her with) and any mistake could tear everything down. This is something we know Sydney cannot accept this far in the game. Carmy is still trying to deal with his grief and seems to be in someways coming up for air. The fact of the matter is now the stakes are too high. They are too essential to each other. The restraint to teeter over from one line (platonic) to another (romantic) feels like too much. That’s why every time they eye fuck — and make us have to endure this madness, it feels like both a betrayal and a confession.

For Paul and Irulan, the forbidden aspect is even more explicit. Paul’s heart belongs to Chani (his true love), and Irulan’s role as his wife is a political formality. Yet, there’s a spark of something—like fascination or admiration (that is shrouded in resentment)—that makes their dynamic feel like a betrayal waiting to happen. Irulan’s loyalty to the Bene Gesserit, Paul’s to his Fremen roots, and the galaxy’s eyes on them both mean they can never act on whatever exactly it is. Herbert just wasn’t ready for that conversation idk. I hope Denis can turn the subtext into something that visual make it more explicit. The messiah team has to understand it’s about the vibes more than anything tangential. This is the point.

Secret third thing is not on par with shipper discourse. It’s not about who is endgame or isn’t, or the specifics surrounding the pairings circumstances, it’s about the complexities of the dynamic. They’re about the way two people can be so intertwined, so essential to each other, that the line between platonic and romantic blurs into irrelevance. It’s about the tension that builds when you can’t say what you feel, when every moment is a tightrope walk between duty and desire. Syd and Carmy creating a menu together is as intimate as Paul and Irulan negotiating the fate of an empire. It’s not about whether they’ll end up together; it’s about the fact that they could and the world (any and every other external internal factor) won’t let them.

If you made it this far, congratulations I will be talking about this trope until the wheels fall off.

[mjsparkour]

A Husband In Every Way

Pairing: Paul Atreides/Princess Irulan

Other character: Narmar (OC/Fremen lady-in-waiting to the empress)

Year: Sometime during the latter half of 10,197 AG

Warnings: Implied/referenced death threats

Wordcount: 3.3K words

Summary: On her first proper outing to the city of Arrakeen, Irulan, empress and wife to Paul Atreides in name only, finds him speaking to her of a change of heart.

A/n: This story is written purely from Irulan’s POV

Arrakeen is a city whose name is steeped in history and tradition. It has borne witness to a great many changes in the recent past, from the Harkonnens' loss of fief, the rise of the Atreides, their downfall, and their rise once again. It is also a city of many wonders, with so much to see and savour.

- From “Arrakeen, its hidden delights” by Reverend Mother Arminus Elizabeth Nareah

Irulan sat still before her vanity while her sworn protector and lady-in-waiting, a nineteen-year-old Fremen woman named Narmar, put the final flourish to her hair and raised her hood over her head. She was going into the city tonight, and for that, she had to conceal herself. The Harkonnens still had their agents on the planet, weak and small in number as they were. The dangers still present to her and her husband were too great.

She turned the ring of her office around her left middle finger, anxious over the night that lay ahead, before she removed it and gave it to Narmar to take. It was a delicate thing, with her personal emblem and the crown of the empress engraved artfully over it. Irulan took a moment to consider her change in station and in life. She was now empress of a vast empire. Immense wealth and power rested within the palms of her hands. Her husband was the handsome young Atreides emperor. Yet he wanted nothing to do with her. Oh, Paul sought her out when it came to matters of politics, but beyond that, he saw no further use for her. The bed they were supposed to share always had one side that had remained unoccupied and cold for the duration of their marriage.

A sudden pang flared deep within her breast. Paul did not share her bed, and she could not invite another in his stead. He made it plain that while he would never hinder her from taking a lover, he would have her strangled if she so much as thought to place a child that was not his in line for the throne. So she threatened, and she schemed, and when all her efforts failed, she chose loyalty instead and left the sisterhood and her family in the past. The act saddened her, but it also freed her. Now she was under obligation to no one but the man she wed. It was such a shame, she thought, that he did not, or would not, see it.

What else must I do to make him see? She asked herself. Then she sighed and brought her thoughts to the here and now. There would be time enough to ponder such a question later.

“Is it time, Narmar?” She said.

“It is almost a quarter to the hour, majesty,” Narmar replied. She returned the ring to its hiding place within the vanity, a drawer that flew open when one of the many sand-trout carved all over the wood was pressed. “Muad’Dib said I must bring you to the receiving hall whenever you are ready. He said he will be waiting for you.” The young woman paused, as if dithering on what she wished to say next. At length, she said, “I think… I believe… he is eager to show you the city.”

Irulan had her doubts. Still, she smiled to convey her pleasure and guarded her tongue. Narmar was one of the Fedaykin, a death commando Paul personally chose to attend her. She was respectful and conscientious in her duties, and, on more than one occasion, she made Irulan laugh with her dry wit. Still, Irulan took care with what she said around the young woman. The Fedaykin were notoriously faithful to Paul, especially those within his immediate circle, and Narmar was no different. She could report any complaint Irulan made against him, and that would surely mean trouble for her. Paul was a duke’s son. He was raised to have a prince’s pride. Irulan was certain he would not take kindly to any speech that showed him in a poor light.

“I am certain that he is,” she said in the end. She looked up when the mounted clock chimed a rapid beat to signal the quarter to the hour. “Now come. The emperor awaits us.”

Narmar took her hand and helped her stand. “Muad’Dib tells me this is your first proper visit to the city,” she remarked, perplexed. “He thinks it strange your father never thought to bring you with him on his visits with the Baron Harkonnen. We all share his opinion on this score. Why was it so? Were you not his heir?”

Irulan looked at her, startled. Paul had been talking about her to his people. She did not know what to make of it. “My father did not think it fit to bring me here,” she explained, and waited for Narma to open the door. “He did not think it safe. Besides,” she added, as she crossed to the lip and stepped over it into a corridor lit by the golden half-light of suspensor lamps, “I do not think he truly considered me his heir. I believe he was hoping a way to break the agreement struck with the Bene Gesserit would present itself, then he could take on a concubine who could give him a son.” She laughed bitterly to herself. “Now he has a son, after a fashion. A pity, really, when you consider the way he went about gaining him.”

“The way was willed by Shai-Hulud,” Narmar said, though not ungently. “As was your marriage to Muad’Dib. I confess, I had my doubts, as did so many others,” she admitted. “We all expected Muad’Dib to be with Chani. We all thought she would be his one true companion, his wife in all but name. But she changed. And she left. Now we see this was not the path created for her. It was created for you instead.”

Irulan was surprised. Never did Narmar say such a thing. There was another meaning to it; of that she was sure. But she did not dwell on it for longer than was necessary. Narmar was expecting an answer from her. So she swiftly schooled her expressions to one of calmness and simply said, “Then we shall see where this path takes me.”

Guards, Fremen and Atreides both, bowed their heads as she walked past them. There were no Corrino guards to be seen, no fierce men in Sardaukar livery. The Sardaukar had all been killed, and the Corrino men had been pressed into service to the Atreides. Gurney Halleck had made his choices, and now those who pledged to serve his commands without question were kept on a very tight leash.

Paul was seated on a divan in the receiving hall when they glided in, dressed in a sand-hued cloak and hood that was a match to hers and many others who lived in this city. His most trusted men stood to attention all around him, their guns holstered at their right hips and their crysknives sheathed at their left. They too were arrayed in the cloaks and hoods she and Paul wore. One of them saw her. They leaned down to whisper something in Paul’s ear. He rose after they finished. From the minutiae of discreet observation, Irulan could have sworn he looked pleased to see her.

“My lady,” he said, his voice betraying a sliver of warmth Irulan had not detected at other times. “I trust you are ready for your first tour of Arrakeen.” He offered her his arm, and she let him escort her down a passageway that led to a side entrance. It was at the other end of the main gate, where no one could see them come or go. “Do not leave my side,” he warned her. “Many portions of this city are still wholly new to you, and it will be easy to get lost. If you must leave my side, tell me why. I will have Narmar and Farok accompany you.”

Irulan nodded her assent. “Where will you take me?”

“To the old marketplace,” Paul said. “Where the off-world merchants gather.” He shouted a command, and the side gates were pulled open. There was no one to be seen on the other side save for some empty houses. Everyone was out and about for the night, and they were clearly keeping to the main roads and pathways. “I was told some of them have come all the way from Richesse and Ix and even Ecaz. Perhaps we should call on them first.”

“I would like that,” Irulan said. She huddled closer to him when they advanced toward the crowds. There were so many people—Irulan could not believe that the city could hold such a multitude. And they had all come from their homes. It was as if many of the inhabitants of Arrakeen only ever made their presence known after duskfall, when the sun went down and the world grew more comfortable and cool.

Suddenly, Paul threw his arm around her in a protective gesture. “The crowds are great in number tonight.” He looked down at her, and when Irulan dared to raise her gaze at him, his lips curled up at the corners. That was a surprising thing in itself, for Paul rarely smiled. Not at her in any event. “The crowds were always great at night after my father was given the dukedom of Arrakis. I think they felt safer. I, however, could not go exploring. My father and mother were worried over my safety. They always kept me inside whenever I was not needed at either of their sides.”

“As they should have. Narmar told me someone made an attempt on your life not even a day after you all arrived here.”

“It was an attempt that could have succeeded had Mapes not come to my door when she did. But I sometimes wish I had been given more freedom. I wish I was allowed friends my own age, but perhaps my mother and father had just cause to raise me the way they did. What about you, my lady? Were you given more freedom than me, or were you kept in a gilded cage as well?”

Irulan started, never having expected questions of such a personal nature. Nevertheless, she resolved to answer as best she could. Paul had never spoken to her in such a way before; she would have been a fool if she had let such an opportunity pass her by.

“My mother and father were concerned for the safety of their daughters as well,” she began, “though perhaps, they did not go down the path your father and mother did.” She glanced at Paul and found him listening intently. It encouraged her to continue. “We were allowed playmates. They were daughters born to the Bene Gesserit, of course, but still, we never lacked for childhood friends. My mother oversaw our education. She quarrelled with my father one time and convinced him to take us to Ecaz for a year so that we would have the benefit of learning the arts from the masters and see something of that world. There were hunting trips, sumptuous feasts, and even masquerade balls.” Irulan laughed softly to herself. “Once, my sister, Wensicia, entered the ballroom half-dressed as a fabled woman-warrior of legend and carrying a true sword. The imperial court was scandalised and spoke of it for months.” Irulan became silent for a moment. Then she said, “I would urge you to be careful when dealing with Wensicia. She doted on my father, and she has a vengeful streak to her. She will never accept him being unseated by you. And now I hear she has a son. A son who could have easily succeeded his grandfather, had his grandfather been allowed to rule long enough to pass the crown directly to him.”

Paul seemed distant for an instant, as if he was seeing someone or something else. “I will have him brought here,” he proposed. “He can be raised at the Palace as my ward. His mother will not even think to act against me then.”

“Of course,” Irulan murmured. She wondered if Wensicia would agree to part with her child. Perhaps she would if she thought Paul would stay childless and there still remained a chance for her son to succeed him.

Or perhaps she will not, Irulan thought. Wensicia is vengeful, and she has her pride, just like the rest of us. She could say no and spit in the new emperor’s face.

The notion filled Irulan with a sense of anticipation she had never experienced. Would her sister win out in the end, or would Paul make her see his way? It was going to be interesting to find out.

Her musing over the possible confrontation between her husband and her sister came to an abrupt end when a cry sounded not far from where they were. “Soo-soo-sook! Soo-soo-sook! Ikhut-eigh! Ikhut-eigh! Soo-soo-sook!”

It was an old water seller, his blue-on-blue eyes bright and his umber skin dried and shrivelled from the lack of moisture. A dusty little waterskin filled with liquid swung at his belt as he walked. Others stopped him and asked for a sip. Negotiations began. It soon became quite loud and colourful, and some ceased going about their business just to watch.

The sight was a sobering one to Irulan. Even now, after the better part of two years and the slow greening of the planet, it still shocked her to know that there existed a place where people were so short of water they had to barter and haggle for even a thimbleful of it. It made her feel grateful she lived an empress’s life at the Palace, where water was always plentiful and no one who lived and toiled beneath its roof lacked for it.

“One day,” Paul leaned in to whisper, “that cry will become a thing of the past. It is my sincerest wish to see this day unfold within my lifetime.”

“That is my wish also,” Irulan heard herself say. She was rewarded by a tender squeeze on her arm. She committed the impressions and sensations that followed to memory. She did not know when she would receive such a display of affection again.

“Just so.” Paul turned down an alley to his right. It was lined with glow globes that gleamed a buttery yellow against the shadows. Muffled music and singing could be heard drifting through the air. “The old marketplace is this way. Come, my lady. There is much for you to see.”

There was indeed much for her to see, just as Paul said. Large, open tents lined the vast square, each of them made of linen and silk lined with banners of the Great Houses. The smells of off-world spices and sweets and roasting meat drifted from stalls and cookfires to overwhelm the senses. Men and women garbed in colourful robes drifted from merchant to merchant, inspecting their wares. And the true spice, melange, was everywhere. It floated through the air, glinting in the light as gold and orange flecks and clinging to the skin and clothes and hair of all those who were caught within it. Generous quantities of it were to be found in the cups of spiced coffee served to those who entered. A cup was held up to Irulan when she walked by it.

“Take it,” Paul advised. “Our cistern provided the water. It is perfectly safe.”  

Irulan, not wanting to offend either the server or her husband, accepted the proffered beverage and sipped. It was hot and delicious, and she savoured the taste. She spoke the Chakobsa words for gratitude and was answered by the traditional Chakobsa answer in return. When she looked at Paul, she saw that he was smiling.

“Your skills with the hunting languages have improved,” he said.

“I have been striving to improve myself,” Irulan admitted. “It would not do for the wife of Muad’Dib to be ignorant of the words and the ways of his people.”

Paul went silent even as the old marketplace bustled with activity and the shops filled with light and laughter and life. Irulan studied him discreetly, thinking perhaps something she said upset him. Her fears over what she said were put to rest when at length, he said, “I have not been much of a husband to you, have I?”

It was Irulan’s turn to grow silent. Paul had been correct when he said he had not been a husband to her in any sense, but she did not know how best to put it into words. Certainly not without bringing up Chani and his father and wounding him. Paul did not wait for her to answer. He took back the reins of the conversation.

He said, “I know I have not been much of a husband to you. I have seen you put aside your pride, your vanity, all that you owe the Bene Gesserit and your father for the sake of serving me. You tend to me in the absence of Chani, and I reward all that you have done, all that you do, with indifference and a cold bed.”

“I did not have much choice but to endure your absence. You swore to garrote me if I allowed a lover to plant a child in me.”

Paul did not flinch. “I could not allow the Bene Gesserit a foothold in my council and in my private life,” he explained. “I could not grant another Great House or a man of inferior birth and fortune the opportunity to meddle. It was too much of a gamble to take.”

“You could have put a child in me. I would not have minded an empty bed then.”

“Politics?”

“Politics. Why did you not do it?”

“There were too many futures open to you when we first wed. Too many variables that could have altered everything and endangered so many had you continued with your loyalty to your father and the Bene Gesserit. I needed to be sure those futures disappeared and the one where you never betrayed me was all that remained in the end.”

“Do you see this future?”

“I do. I have seen that you could be trusted implicitly. I have seen that what I have been doing, or not doing, is unfair. I have seen the path laid out for us. It will always remain dark and bleak so long as I continue the way I have done since the day you and I got married.” He took the cup out of her hands and gave it to Farok to take. When they resumed walking, he went on to say, “I am hoping this can be a new beginning for us. I wish to be a husband to you in every way. But I must ask you to be patient with me for just a little while longer. This is all strange for me. I always believed I would be with Chani. But if you are willing to wait, I promise that you will be given no cause for regret.”

Irulan was overwhelmed. This was so much more than what she expected, and Narmar’s words about a path that was created for her now made perfect sense. Paul had seen a future with her firmly by his side as his wife in every way. He had spoken with those whom he trusted implicitly about that future. And now it seemed he wished to take the first step toward that future with her. When she looked at Paul, she found him looking back at her with vivid blue-on-blue eyes that gleamed as if aflame.

I can wait, Irulan told herself. I have waited this long; what difference would it make if I waited a few more months... another year or two?  

“I will give you my answer, Paul Muad’Dib, my lord emperor and husband,” she declared, her decision made. “I will wait. However long it takes, I will wait. And I will be patient.”

Paul took her hand into his. His fingers trembled as they laced around hers. “Then you will be well satisfied; I give you my word on this.”  

[mjsparkour]

[mjsparkour]

She's 👏 The 👏 Bear 👏

[mjsparkour]

THE BEAR — 3.03 "Doors"

[mjsparkour]

Oh ok so it turns out ive been borrowing grief from the future ! it turns out ive been preparing to lose the things i love rather than basking in the light of them while they last. Maybe i should nt do that

[mjsparkour]

While I love the vision for them in a when harry met sally type of movie (seriously it would rock my world) I feel like they’d eat a romance drama…

I just need timmyflo to give me one project where they’re married in an extremely loving and affectionate normal romantic relationship with zero second choice allegations (we love and respect you so bad amylaurie, they will never get you like I do) and also made by a director that doesn’t hate romance (we still love you greta)

[mjsparkour]

Matilda (1996) dir. Danny Devito

[mjsparkour]

My Fair Lady (1964) dir. George Cukor

[mjsparkour]

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 2005 | dir. Joe Wright

[mjsparkour]

EMILY BADER as JANE GREY and EDWARD BLUEMEL as GUILDFORD DUDLEY MY LADY JANE Episode 1 Who'll Be the Next in Line?

[mjsparkour]

THE MUMMY 1999 | dir. Stephen Sommers

[mjsparkour]

So, like the rest of the world, I’ve been completely obsessed with the new season of severance. I’ve been finding that my current obsessions are fighting over my unemployed brain capacity. This has translated to me consistently ideating the love triangle (pentagon/trapezoid) between Helly/Helena/Mark/Gemma/Ms Casey in severance and how that translates to the (I’m using the phrase liberally) ‘dune love triangle’ (if we’re going by movie canon) between Chani/Paul/Irulan.

At first glance (I thought about it for days) I thought the love triangle between Helly/Mark/Gemma was similar to, respectively, Chani/Paul/Irulan. I felt that Denis version of Chani fit right in with Helly’s characterization as somewhat of an outsider perspective in a community she’s so undoubtably embedded in. They are passionate and fiery (and real as fuck). Helly goes on this journey in s1 where she’s trying to get out of this severed existence by fighting and resisting. Which culminates in her last scene in s1 where, under the guise as Helena, she points out how terrible Lumon treats the severed employees. Chani similarly calls out the religious zealots that she feels holds her beloved fremen community back. The person who was at her side while she was fighting for Fremen freedom throughout the film was Paul. Similar to how Mark also became an ally to Helly in transforming the workplace and being conscious.

I think Gemma/Ms.Casey could be linked to Irulan in that they both are tethered to Mark/Paul as status of husband and wife. I also think it goes a little deeper than that. Irulan comes from the Corrino dynasty, their lineage has been synonymous with gold and known as the golden lion crown. Light and shadows are also used intentionally for Irulan's scenes in the film. In many of scenes with Gemma/Ms. Casey there is a usage of light that contrasts her from other characters. Whether it’s Mark looking at her picture, Mark looking from Helly to Ms Casey and the scene getting brighter, or the sun streaming in through the window during the Gemma/Mark kiss (which I saw from trailers/teasers, it hasn’t come out yet don’t jump me) From what little we know Gemma was a teacher, which let’s me know she’s interested in knowledge much like Irulan who is a historian and is passionate about literature/history. Gemma/Irulan are also tied to Mark/Paul as husband and wife but seem to be distant figure in the plot (Irulan comes to a forefront in Messiah, we have reason to believe the same might happen to Gemma/Ms.Casey this season). There is a mysterious air surrounding Gemma/Irulan because of it. In many ways Mark and Gemma feel destined or tethered to each other not only because of their marital status but because

Interestingly, I also think Irulan is similar to Helena. That one connection I make is solely based on the fact that they are fail-daughter (Helena was possibly bypassed too?) heirs to company/throne. Both are very calculating and poised, with pride that speaks for itself. I also make this connection because as the season goes on it feels like Helena grows interested/obsessed with Mark in a way that can kinda be compared to with Irulan writing all those books about Paul (and realizing her love for him). I think that scene where Helena watches Helly kiss Mark before going into the elevator is very layered. I read the scene as her looking another part of herself receive an intimacy that feels foreign to her, she in someways is envious of Helly because she gets to do that freely; she's uninhibited. I think Irulan see's Chani in a similar light because she is on the receiving end of Paul's love. Both of them are not free of him though, his love entraps them, as their all entwined together by destiny.

Denis has brought up the idea of destiny vs love for Dune Messiah. "He [Paul] is dealing with power, time, family and love. Which side will win? Dark or light?" It's pretty clear that Irulan is his destiny and Chani is his true love. Chani is his tether humanity and light where Irulan stands for his imperial destiny and his noble blood, notably Harkonnen (standing for the darker parts of himself). The concept of destiny vs true love playing out in severance is interesting (mind boggling and complicated) because it's different 'souls' occupying the same body. So Mark's "true love" as we know it is split; as an innie its Helly while his true love as an outie is Gemma. Helena is hell-bent on being Mark's destiny by having him continue to do whatever nefarious thing lumon is having the severed floor do while also obsessing over him because Helly was receding affection she'd never been not he receiving end of and because she looked at her as less of a person the thought of that sort of drives her insane I think?

I feel like had had some more points but is escaping me at the moment and its now 3am. I feel like I also didn't really articulate this in the way I wanted so sorry if its all over the place. All of this has been just a bunch of word salad but severance and dune are having a hyper fixation off in my head and this is what it's come to.

EDIT: It completely went over my head but I meant to talk about paulchani and their tether to markgemma. The way markgemma are separated by lumon after going to a clinic because they wanted to have kids. This ultimately lead to Mark losing her. That is super reminiscent of the way Chani is predestined to die after giving birth to Paul’s kids.

[mjsparkour]

"I have lots of wishes, but my favorite one is to be an artist in Paris and to do fine pictures and to be the best painter in the world."

"That's what you want too, isn't it, Jo? To be a famous writer?"

"Yes, but it sounds so crass when she says it."

@pscentral event 35: parallels

↳ jo and amy march in little women (2019), dir. greta gerwig

[mjsparkour]

Emergency Donation!!!

Hi everyone I normally don’t post about things like this on my page but this is an urgent matter concerning a medical student from Gaza. If you have the means to donate please do so. There’s only a limited time window to ensure the funds get to the right place. Asem will get fired from his university and return all his donations if we don’t get these funds in time, by 1/30. These are the links to the donation, please give if you can and if you can’t please share!!!

Update: he has 806 he needs to reach his goal!

[mjsparkour]

Chapter 44 : My Lord & Lady

[mjsparkour]

Lets discuss fail marriages

It’s about the fact that you're trapped together. It’s the forced proximity trope on steroids. There are more things than one that are tying you to each other. It’s a combination of external and internal factors. Some times its about the way you challenge each other, in a way that feels enemies to lovers-esc because your ultimately on the same side, as you are tied together, but you find yourselves on opposite ends of the spectrum (ideologically/values/actions). You maybe love each other but there is some form of hatred and maybe distain as well because more often than not that person is a mirror to you or an idea of everything you want to be and are not. It’s about how they fail to be a normal couple. They’re not indifferent toward one another but rather have a distinct sense or awareness of the other person. They are not the only thing in the room they notice but the most important/distinct (sometimes unbearably the person they pay most attention to). They are not in love (not in the way you think) but they don’t strictly hate each other, they’re prickled by each other and thus they are that secret third thing. Affection is not shown in the conventional ways in fail marriages and thank God for it.