#I don't think I'm saying anything new or profound here but we need to find a balance between hating on kids

[otakusapien]

You're allowed to dislike children, but you still have to be polite and reasonably kind to random ones around you for the same reason you're passingly polite to random adults in you're daily life: Because they are people

[subliminalbo]

This story is a companion to Assimilation #4: Night Sounds

Days later, Nina still couldn’t believe what she’d seen at her sister’s apartment. She played the moment over and over in her head until she convinced herself that none of it could be real. Soon, the strangest details of that night retreated like so many forgotten nightmares. But even as the images faded, the feelings lingered. The initial shock when she opened the door to find the nude bodies of her sister and her roommates bathed in the moonlight, the sudden arousal when Gabrielle and Allison turned their attentions to her, and the unimaginable dread that that feeling filled her with. 

At night, Nina had to bite down on her shirt to stifle her moans. She whimpered as her fingers glided over her throbbing clit, mere feet away from her sleeping roommate Chloe. 

Nina had masturbated before, but never this frequently, never so obsessively. She loathed herself for it. Chloe smuggled a new boy into their dorm every other night. "Call me reductive," Chloe had once said to Nina with a shrug. "But sometimes a woman's just a set of holes that need to be filled."

God, Nina needed help before she ended up just like her.

"I think you're holding something back, Nina," Dr. Fielding said with a sharp click of her pen.

She was more intimidating than Nina had expected. A head taller, with these intense, dark eyes that burrowed through her as she spoke.

Nina hugged herself as she spoke. "I told you everything I saw. I walked in and they were just there, all three of them..."

"Why do you think it had such a profound effect on you?"

"It didn't," Nina squeezed herself tighter. "I mean, I just never thought my sister would ever take part in something like that. It just surprised me."

"Seeing your sister in the act of sex with her friends shook you to your core," Dr. Fielding observed. "Obviously you have a great deal of respect for her, but I think there's something deeper here that we're not accessing."

"I can't think of anything," Nina insisted.

"Maybe we should try a different approach." Dr. Fielding said. "Hypnosis can be effective in retrieving buried or damaged memories."

Nina was skeptical, but she deferred to Dr. Fielding's experience.

"I'm going to breathe deeply in, and then deeply out. I want you to match my pattern."

"Okay," Nina replied slowly. "I'm not very good at stuff like this."

"Don't overthink it," Dr. Fielding assured her. "Just follow my lead. I'm breathing in...and I'm breathing out...you can close your eyes if it makes it easier."

Nina followed Dr. Fielding's instruction. Her shoulders relaxed, her eyes flitted shut. She hated when people told her to "relax," as if relaxation was a state she could simply access. If it were that easy, why would she ever need therapy?

But it was easier once Nina closed her eyes. She simply focused on the rhythmic sound of Dr. Fielding’s breathing. She counted the time between inhale and exhale, eight seconds, and soon she was matching the pattern beat for beat. The world began to slow.

"You��re going to repeat what I say, Nina," Dr. Fielding continued.

"Yes, Dr. Fielding," Nina replied.

"Visualize a space in your mind. A space deep, deep down in the depths of your subconscious, as deep as you can go."

"As deep as I can go," Nina repeated quietly.

"No thoughts can penetrate this space. You are alone here with my voice."

"No thoughts...alone..."

"Now I want you to go even deeper. Find a place where the concept of free will ceases to exist."

"Deeper..."

"Find that place...and drop."

With a click of Dr. Fielding's pen, Nina's head dropped as if an invisible cord that held her together had been severed.

"Can you still hear me, Nina?" Dr. Fielding asked.

"Yes..." Nina's speech was noticeably slower, her gaze obscured by the hair dangling over her eyes.

"Your conscious mind is a liability, Nina. Its motivation is to make order out of chaos. It buries what it cannot comprehend. As long as you let your conscious mind rule you, you'll never truly know your own self. I'm going to help you access your true memories, Nina, but for this exercise I need you to leave your conscious mind down there in that deep, inaccessible place.

"When I click my pen, you'll come back to me completely blank. No thoughts, no will. In this state, you'll be totally obedient to me, do you understand?"

"Totally obedient..." Nina moaned.

Click.

Nina's head snapped back up. She looked at Dr. Fielding with a pair of distant, glassy eyes. A drop of drool fell from her chin to her shirt.

"Remember, Nina," Dr. Fielding exhaled. "No thoughts, no will, no conscious mind. Only truth. So tell me how you feel."

“I feel so…” Nina’s eyes fluttered. Her hand traveled unconsciously up to squeeze her breast. “So…” she began to massage herself through her shirt. "So horny..." She sunk down in her seat, her legs spreading open, the fingers of her other hand tracing desperately along the fly of her jeans.

Dr. Fielding raised a curious eyebrow.

"Well don't let me stop you," she waved a casual hand. "Masturbate. Let all of that tension go."

"Thank you..." Nina moaned. Her lips parted her tongue as she unbuttoned her jeans. Her hand slid under the waistband, fingers dipping into her wet folds. She released a quiet whimper.

Dr. Fielding scribbled a note.

"How often do you feel horny?" she asked.

"All the time," Nina gasped. Each jolt of pleasure carried her even further from her conscious mind. "Since that night..."

Dr. Fielding leaned forward in her chair. “The night of the orgy,” she said. “Why does it scare you so much? Why are you afraid to explore your body, Nina?”

“Because…” Nina moaned. “This isn’t me. These aren’t my thoughts…aren’t my feelings…It’s…” A sharp cry escaped her lips as the first orgasm took her. “It’s the Voice! The Voice, it...it changed me...”

Dr. Fielding tapped her finger on the arm of her chair, she shifted her crossed legs, let loose a soft, imperceptible sigh. "Can you take me there, Nina? Can you show me what you really saw that night?"

awaken

The sound snaps Nina's eyes wide open. It's so loud that it drives her up from the couch. She knows that what she had heard was a scream, but...

"Stop," Dr. Fielding says.

Nina blinks. She's back in her sister's apartment, back in that night. It’s as if she’s waking from a long dream. She isn’t alone this time. She can hear Dr. Fielding’s voice somewhere on the surface of reality.

"Memory is imperfect," Dr. Fielding explains. "Yet it's the primary source with which we document our experiences. Each time we access a memory, we lose a part of it, change it in some way. Think about how you remember this night, then focus on the moment we're in now. Count the differences. Let's start there."

"There's nothing different," Nina insists. "It's the same dark living room, the same eerie silence, the same..." she pauses, noticing a cluster of voices outside the window. A distant thump, thump, thump of dance music.

"There was a party next door," Nina remembers. "It was so loud when I was falling asleep that I tossed and turned for an hour. But when I woke up, everything was silent. I mean...I remember silence."

"That's very good," Dr. Fielding says. "And now that we know that one part of your memory is wrong, we have to assume that any part of it can be. Do you agree?"

"Yes..."

"What else?"

"I don't...I..." Nina's eyes widen as the sounds of the night come back to her. "It wasn't a scream that woke me up. It was a voice."

"There was someone else in the room?" Dr. Fielding asks.

"No," Nina shakes her head. "Taryn had just come home, but she went straight upstairs. I was completely alone in the living room. I think...I think the voice was in my mind."

submit

Nina released a sharp cry as another orgasm washed over her body. Her eyes were closed. She was still in the darkness of that night, but conscious enough to respond to any of Dr. Fielding's questions. Her search for release grew desperate as she clawed at her clothes, tearing her shirt open until her breast was free.

Dr. Fielding watched with hungry eyes as Nina rolled her thumb and forefinger along the ridges of her hard nipple, moaning quietly between her thoughtful responses, “Can’t stop…have to cum…have to cum…can’t stop…can’t stop cumming…have to…have to cum…can’t stop cumming…”

Dr. Fielding’s legs uncrossed, spreading slightly open. She continued with her questioning.

"What did the voice say?"

come

Nina stands before the bedroom door at the end of the hallway.

"I was empty," she says. "I was powerless to disobey. It said 'come' and I followed it upstairs to this room."

"And this is when you cracked the door open to look inside?" Dr. Fielding asks.

"No," Nina shakes her head. "I mean that's how I remembered it, but..."

"Tell me exactly what happened, Nina."

"It's Taryn's room," Nina promptly replies. "I could hear noises behind the door. I remember the squeak of the bed frame. I remember the deep, desperate moans. But I didn't need to look inside to know what was on the other side of the door. The Master had already shown me."

"The Master?"

"The voice," Nina clarifies. "It commanded me to 'enter,' so I opened the door and I found what I already knew was there."

The door swings open revealing the scene on the other side. Three gorgeous, naked young women caught in the heat of mindless, animal sex. One woman is lying flat on the bed with another down low between her legs. The third stands at the side of the bed directing the action.

"The orgy," Dr. Fielding says.

"I noticed Taryn on the bed first," Nina continues. "Allison was the one between her legs. The way her tits swung made me so horny. I've never been attracted to a woman before but watching it, I wanted her. And then there was my sister, Gabrielle. She climbed on top of Taryn. She lowered herself over Taryn's face and began to ride her, and when Gabrielle climbed back off, I saw a black liquid bubbling up from Taryn's mouth."

"A black liquid? You're sure that's a real memory?"

Taryn is still on the bed convulsing in ecstasy as Gabrielle and Allison stand straight up.

"It was the Master," Nina says. "They were changing her. The transformation isn't complete until the Master fills the vessel's body."

Gabrielle and Allison stare forward toward the doorway. The black liquid rolls down Gabrielle's leg. They are watching Nina.

"That's when I heard their voices in my mind. They were pulling me into the room."

"Their voices?"

"Gabrielle and Allison's."

"You could hear their voices in your head now?"

"They are assimilated," Nina says. "They no longer need to speak."

"How did you escape?"

"I came to my senses when I saw Gabrielle's eyes. It was difficult to make out the details in them, the way they glowed in the darkness. But then I realized that there was no detail at all. Just blank, white, inhuman eyes. I knew that this thing wasn't my sister, I knew that if I followed her into that room that I wouldn't be myself when I left it either."

"So you ran?"

"Yes. I ran as fast as I could."

"But what happened to the voice?” Dr. Fielding asks. She’s standing in the hallway next to Nina now. “The one that pulled you upstairs?"

Nina turns her head away from the scene in Taryn's room to look straight at Dr. Fielding. Her eyes are the same empty, white eyes that she just described in her sister’s gaze.

"The Master is still with me,” she says. “Its voice is buried deep, deep down in my subconscious. As deep as it could go."

obey

Sylvia couldn’t hold back any longer.

In all of her studies she had never come across anything like this. Her expertise was in the human mind. She understood the mechanisms by which people could be manipulated by their own desires, how thoughts and memories and desires could be shaped, shifted, and changed. She knew how to make a person drop to their knees in absolute submission.

But she knew nothing about supernatural forces. She didn’t understand the feeling that moved through her when Nina suddenly opened her glassy eyes. She didn’t understand why she’d risen from her chair and torn open her blouse, promptly discarding her clothes as she joined Nina on the couch. Why she pressed her lips to Nina’s exposed breast, rolling her tongue along Nina’s nipple as she imagined the black liquid filling her mouth.

She didn’t understand why she fucked Nina, positioning herself on the couch so that her legs were locked with the young student’s, their slick pussies grinding together as she rolled her hips. She didn’t understand why Nina’s mantra came flooding from her own mouth between deep gasps and hungry moans. 

“Can’t stop…can’t stop…have to cum…have to…can’t stop cumming…have to cum…can’t stop cumming…”

"There is no escape once the Master’s voice touches you," Nina droned. "It breaks you, fills you, reshapes you. Everything you’ve ever known, everything you’ve ever dreamed fades away in total desire to obey the Master’s design. We are all vessels. We will all surrender."

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Sylvia had lost count of the number of times she’d cum. Her mind flickered in and out like an old television set. She’d been trained to resist brainwashing, but each time she came she cared a little bit less. It felt too good to submit. After dedicating her life to the Submission Principle, her theory that all humans have one thing that makes them predisposed to brainwashing, she’d discovered something far more powerful. Something that defied all logic. And she needed to become one with it.

"I need it," Sylvia panted, her tongue hungrily tracing the outline of her lips. "I need to hear the Master. I need to be broken. I need to be filled." Her eyes rolled back as she came again.

"All life surrenders to the Master," Nina moaned.

"All life…all life surrenders…"

When Dr. Fielding woke up, her mind was her own again. 

She found herself naked at the foot of the couch. Nina’s feet were pressed into her office carpet. She sat upright on the couch, awaiting Dr. Fielding’s commands. 

Dr. Fielding wasted no more time collecting her discarded clothes and returning to her chair to finish the session. She cleared her throat, tried to regain her strong composure, then said with a slight shake in her voice, "Are you still with me, Nina?"

"Yes, Dr. Fielding," Nina replied coolly.

"I want you to forget about the Master," Dr. Fielding said. "Wherever it is in your mind right now, I want you to find it and let it go.”

“Yes, Dr. Fielding.”

“But,” Dr. Fielding continued. “I don’t want you to forget how it made you feel. I want you to remember the uncontrollable lust. Take it, embrace it, let it define you. You’re a young woman, Nina. It’s okay to explore your body. It’s okay to want to suck cock and eat pussy."

"Yes, Dr. Fielding." The validation made the entranced young woman moan.

"Sometimes," Dr. Fielding said. "A woman is just a set of holes that need to be filled. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dr. Fielding. I am just a set of holes that need to be filled."

Dr. Fielding bit her lip before she continued. "I want to meet with you again next week. I want you to tell me all about how you apply this new perspective. You won’t disappoint me."

"I won’t disappoint you, Dr. Fielding."

Nina was still in trance when the session ended. Dr. Fielding called down to her secretary to request a change of clothes for the young woman. Before she let Nina go, she left her with one final direction to forget the content of their session together.

Nina's conscious mind returned to the sound of the office door swinging shut behind her. She didn’t question the new pair of clothes or why she left the session in such high spirits. After all, isn’t therapy about getting your mind right?

As Nina exited the Psychology Department building, she thought about how sometimes she was just a set of holes that needed to be filled. At the bus stop she dialed the number of her chemistry TA.

"Hey, David," she smiled into her phone. Just the sound of his voice made her pussy ache. "I’m sorry for bothering you outside of class. I was just wondering if you’d be interested in meeting me for some tutoring tonight?"

[tehamelie]

Reactions to Inside Out 2:

1. I was pretty average on the movie from the start for a few reason, but still, it still gets good in the second act, I thought, but then giving it some further thought and video essay watching I now have to immediately play it back.

2. My complaint is they didn't have to undermine the conceit established so well in the first movie by introducing more emotions, I mean most of them seem to just be there for a few jokes and they seem pretty arbitrarily selected, Anxiety doesn't do anything that couldn't be done as well by Fear going through some kind of teenage phase, going out of control and needing to learn the other emotions are valid. Just like Joy used to have to!

3. I'm sad for any adults thinking everyone has to have less joy as they get older. Personally, for a start, I find so much joy just in exploring the more profound and more complex emotions I discover with age. Yeah, you have to work at it, and I realize many people don't have time and energy to do that with bills to pay and everything, but if you start thinking it's just impossible for anyone, I'm here to tell you as a 44 year old maid with disabilities that's always kept me from having a job and take more and more energy to manage as I get older, it is possible.

4. Both after the first movie and now, I've heard criticisms about parts where the movie's metaphor falls apart by having the emotions go through these fantastical adventures which bring Riley instant, Hollywood-style emotional growth. But I disagree. If we look at Riley from the outside in, as it were, what's happening is she has these literal malfunctions in her brain; the tubes that transfer new memories to long term (in the first movie) and the cave systems connecting suppressed memories to the belief system et.c. (in the second) do exist as machinery in the brain, just not in any shape brain scientists have a grasp on. Which does let Pixar play fast and loose with what these malfunctions are supposed to represent exactly. But people who go through periods of possible, undiagnosable mental illness and come out of it prematurely accelerated in some respect of their personality aren't exactly unheard of.

5. At the very end when Joy gets "called" to the console by Riley, I at first thought her fuzzy yellow substance was getting sucked out of her, and I thought, that's incredibly sad but it makes sense with what the movie was saying, there will be less of Joy from now on. Then when it turned out it was just Riley letting her know she was needed and as she got closer the drainage stopped, I thought, isn't that a terrifyingly potent metaphor for being needed by people? And now I've got to reexamine if I'm instinctively scared of being wanted and needed cause it feels like I'm losing myself?

Good movie. Makes ya think.

[blackjackkent]

Oh, gods, here we go again.

Walked over to talk to the blacksmith and the conversation got real weird, real fast:

"Welcome, adventurer! I take it you're new to Rivington. No doubt you came here to choose from my fine selection of weapons? Yes, I seem to have it all. Clubs, swords, maces, bows. Cutting and gutting galore. Why don't we see if we can find the perfect weapon for you?"

Hector considers explaining the fists thing again, but then just shrugs agreeably. "How will you know my perfect weapon?" he asks.

"I provide a personalized service for my customers, to make sure the weapon I choose is the perfect fit," the blacksmith says cheerfully. "Tell me..." His jovial tone never wavers. "How do you like to kill?"

Hector stiffens at once, almost offended by the question. He has never liked to kill; it's a miserable business and if he never had to do it again he would be perfectly content. "I don't see what this has to do with me buying a weapon from you," he says coolly.

"Oh, it's all part of the service," the smith answers brightly. "Everybody answers." He leans forward with sudden intensity. "Go on. Tell me how you kill."

Hector's jaw sets with irritation at this casual tone for such a subject. "Quickly and efficiently," he says, eyes narrowing. "I don't want anyone to suffer."

The smith gives him a slow, broad smile. "Come... we're all friends here," he says. There's a distinct edge to the cheerful voice now. "No need to pretend you don't like to twist the knife." He leans closer, his voice lowering. "And when you kill someone... what do you feel?"

Hector feels a sudden chill, a prickling up the back of his neck. A suspicion... [CLERIC OF SELUNE] "Reflective," he says, the words sticking in his throat. "To kill is a profound act, one that should not be taken lightly."

The smith nods with a wide smile. "Killing holds no fear for you, does it? You understand what it takes, and what it gives."

He steps closer still, his face almost nose to nose with Hector. "One more question, if you'll humor me..." he says, and his voice drops to a cold whisper. "Do you think you could turn your weapon on those closest to you?"

The chill turns to a sudden feeling of profound dread. Hector is no fool; it's obvious now what's going on here, and yet he feels frozen, unable to move, to break from the conversation, barely even to answer.

"I would *never* kill someone I cared about," he snaps, forcing the words out like the crack of a whip.

The smith laughs, and there's no humor in it now. "You'll do so much worse," he whispers, "by the time I'm done with you."

The transformation is quicker this time, a twisting snap of undulating bones.

"Still rolling in the muck, I see," Orin croons with that maniacal grin that is becoming all too familiar. "Gortash knows you are coming. Knows you have the Bone Lord's stone. Do not let him hiss hot air into your worm-weakened brain."

She steps forward, rests a hand lightly against Hector's chest. He feels a death chill in her palm, but he can't move. It's a sort of bewildered, fascinated terror - the fear of her, yes, but also of everything she represents, the mystery and the danger. He is less afraid of her being in front of him than he is of what she will do when he cannot see her.

"He'll find your weaknesses," Orin goes on. "Stick a knife in the cracks and prise you apart. Unless you get him first." She smirks. "Remember - his throat spits lies, but my blade carves the truth. You will read it on your skin soon enough."

She vanishes, abruptly, twisting a ring on her finger and disappearing in a burst of red light. Hector finds himself suddenly able to move again, to breathe, though his heart is still thundering.

"She's toying with me," he gasps out, angry and humiliated and very afraid. "What does she want?"

If his companions have anything to suggest, they don't have a chance to voice it before they're interrupted - by the smith again, the real one this time.

"You!" he bellows. "Try attacking me when my back isn't turned, you bloody coward!"

...Great. That's a whole other terrible layer to this. Not only is Orin toying with them, not only could she take the place of any of them... but she can pretend to be them to others, get them in trouble, ruin their reputation...

This is too much, Hector thinks faintly. It's too godsdamned much...

"I didn't attack you," he says firmly. "I've been out here the whole time."

"Don't dare lie to me. I saw you with my own eyes, grinning at me like some bloody imbecile. I'm going to knock that smirk right off your face!" the smith snaps.

Hector fully believes he could take this man on if the situation required it - but he doesn't want to. The last thing he wants to do is cement the image Orin is apparently trying to sow of him being a deranged, violent criminal. Instead, he considers for a moment, and then points out, [MEDICINE] "Hallucinations. Irrational anger. These are symptoms of a serious head injury."

It's not exactly a lie, and he isn't entirely sure if he expects the point to work. But the man blinks and thinks it over, and then nods wearily. "You're not wrong. Feels like my brain's been drawn on the anvil." He scowls, waves a hand. "I need a bloody drink. Go on - clear off. I've seen enough of your face today."

Hector considers telling him the drink probably isn't great for a head injury either... but he's got other concerns he needs to worry about, anyway.

[mrsaguapapi]

Ch 1  Ch 2  Ch 3  Ch 4  Ch 5  Ch 6  Ch 7  Ch 8  Ch 9  Ch 10  Ch 11 Ch 12  Ch 13

Chapter 14

I Love You

The Vibe:

ALABAMA SHAKES| SOUND AND COLOR LYRICS

I find myself walking in Kissena park, the same park where I was buried. I know this is a dream for 2 major reasons, 1 being, I don't ever come back here. Something about here makes me feel a profound sadness, something I can feel deep in my soul; I usually avoid this part of town as it's too much for me to handle. My 2nd reason is that the sky was filled with a blue and purple hue, not something we usually see here in New York. As I walk along the trails of the park I find myself walking toward the lake where I was found at.

I decided to sit at the edge of the lake and watch the water ripple as I drag my hand along the top of the water. The city streets weren't booming with music and laughter as usual; It was quiet and peaceful.

"My, how beautiful you've become." I hear a woman say behind me. I turn to look at her and it was my mother. She was barefoot and dressed in white robes, her face was so similar to mine, it threw me off; but unlike myself, she looked content and at peace, there was no worry or pain written in her face like that flashback I saw of her.

Without saying a word to her I just stand and hug her, "Mom" I whisper and begin to softly cry

She holds me tightly rubbing my back, "My sweet child, I'm here now." I cry in her arms for a good 5 mins before I spoke up.

"Sorry for the waterworks" I chuckle nervously and pull away," I don't know what came over me."

"Don't apologize for releasing your feelings, my love. It's good for you, you really should do that more often. You bottle up everything, ever since you were little."

"I wouldn't know, perks of being an amnesiac" I laugh initially but then pause, "I mean no disrespect, but how would you know mom? You died..."

"Death is not the end child." she says holding the side of my face, "I've been there with you, every step of the way. Watching over you, here in the ancestral plane" She replies

"Ancestral Plane? Here? We're in it right now?" I ask and she nods "How am I able to be here? I didn't eat the heart-shaped herb "

"You're a sorceress Millaenyia, you have always been able to access this plane" I just look at her trying to process as she continues, "The Astral Dimension is made up of several planes that correspond to different afterlives. Asgardians to Valhalla, Ennead to Duat, and Wakandans to the Ancestral Plane. As a sorceress and especially as a direct descendant of Ayesha, you can easily travel here just as you breathe air."

"I've been here before, well somewhere similar, with-" I Begin

"Namor's mother" She finishes "lovely woman by the way."

"Oh my god, you've met her?" I ask

"We've become acquainted as of late" She smiles

I hold my head in my hands, "Oh god so you know about my unconscious love spell" I ask

"Yes I do" she laughs, "Oh don't be embarrassed, we both know I've done way worse with my magic." she nervously laughs

I see where I get my humor from

"Too soon" I laugh, "but seriously what were you thinking? Why risk so much? I'm trying not to be negative about this situation but I really could have used your guidance, maybe I wouldn't have ended up buried in a lake with no memory. Which by the way, is truly traumatic." I pause and recollect myself, "I'm sorry I'm not being fair. I'm just lost and confused and I need my mom"

"Don't apologize, you're my child and I failed you. That's a simple fact. With the combination of grief and the black magic from the Darkhold, I was lost and consumed by my pain. I am so sorry, I should have been there for you, and If I were there you wouldn't have gotten mixed up with Agatha." She pauses and wipes away a tear, "I'd give anything to take it all back, but I can't. What I can do now is help bring back your memories. You can't go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending"

I exhale and chuckle, "C.S. Lewis? Big fan of his Narnia Books?" I playfully question

"I'm dead, what else am I to do? Haunt people?" She jokes wiping away a few tears. " On a serious note though we need to talk about your past." She hesitates and holds my hand, "You buried yourself in that lake and wiped your memories."

"Why?" I ask

"Not my place to say." She sighs.

"Some help you are" I exhaustedly say, "What can you tell me?"

She smiles at me," Come on it's never that easy is it?" she laughs, "The red witch can help you with your memories."

Red Witch? Red? Scarlet Witch?

"Wanda? Strange says she's dead"

"That's what she wants you to think, she's very much alive."

I nod my head, "You mentioned me being involved with Agatha? Who is she ?"

"A very powerful and evil witch; Wanda knows where she is." She replies pulling me into a hug. "I must go now my love"

"So soon? Can I see you again?" I ask suddenly feeling so sad

"Don't worry my child, I will always be here to talk." she kisses my forehead," Study the book of Ayesha. All of your ancestor's powers are in there, learn them. Keep yourself strong sweet girl." with those parting words I blink and find myself in my bed snuggled up with Namor.

The Vibe:

Michael Jackson - Butterflies (Audio)

He was on his back and holding me in his arms; lightly snoring with every exhale. I was going to try to get up but decided to enjoy his warm embrace. His natural scent was positively intoxicating, his arms were solid and his warm skin was soft and comforting. The way he was holding me made me feel so safe and loved. Honestly, this whole vibe is turning me on. I gently roll on top of him and begin to softly kiss him starting from his chest, dipping down under the blanket to kiss his stomach, and stopping at his hips lingering there for a moment. I feel Namor stirring in his sleep so I decide to start leaving hickies along his V-line while I take my cold hands and slide them up his stomach, effectively waking him up.

"Mmm good morning Ki'ichpan." Namor says, "Something on your mind?" he says uncovering my head from under the blanket.

"Just one thing at the moment," I say gently biting his hip and eventually climbing up and wrapping myself in the blanket as I straddle him.

"Care to enlighten me?" he asks as he strokes my leg

"No" I begin to laugh and shake my head "How'd you sleep?" He begins to answer but stops, getting distracted by me widening my straddle and stroking his dick with my pussy. "What's the matter, daddy? Cats got your tongue?" I ask

Ignoring my questions he rips the blanket out from around exposing me fully and admiring the way I look on top of him. I lean forward and rest my hands on either side of his head looking down into his eyes, "You like what you see?" I say slowly grinding on him and coating his dick with my juices.

"I like what I see and feel," he says as he roughly grabs my hips holding me down and grinding back, "Can you wake me up like this every day?" he asks before I crash my lips to his and fully laying on him; wanting to be as close as to him as possible.

"I think that can be arranged" I laugh, "I want you" I whisper

Without hesitation, Namor takes his dick and positions himself under me allowing me to slowly slide down until he's ball's deep inside me. Sitting up I begin to slowly bounce on him making small claps from my ass hitting his hips. He feels so hard inside of me; with every bounce, I feel him hit my deep sweet spot causing me to moan and pick up the speed. Namor steadys himself by grabbing my sides and begins to match my rhythm under me making him go deeper inside of me. Without realizing it we had doubled our pace, my tits were bouncing up and down with each bounce of my ass. I throw my head back in pure pleasure trying to focus on my incoming orgasm. Namor can feel my walls tighten around him; swiftly he grabs me flipping us over giving himself full control, "Cumming so soon?" He asks thrusting into me with full force, "Finish now and I won't let you cum for a week" he threatens

"I can't," I say in between moans, "You feel so good" I cry out

"You can" He whispers, "Do it for daddy, do it for your King" Not able to respond with words I just frantically shake my head as I try to hold on. Laying his head in the crook of my neck he continues to bury himself in me occasionally moaning and saying small praises under his breath. Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing trying to delay my orgasm; I scratch at his back breaking skin causing him to growl in my neck," Fuck baby" He grabs my neck and lifts looking into my eyes, lightly choking and pounding into me with such force. ," Tell me you're mine" he demands

"I'm yours!" I say matching his energy

"Again!"

"I'M YOURS" I choke out barely holding on anymore

"Oh Fuck" He moans," Cum for me Ki'ichpan," He says burying his head in my shoulder and not letting go of my neck. I moan out once more allowing myself to finally enjoy my sweet release once again seeing stars completely losing myself in this pure ecstasy. Feeling my walls grip Namor's dick forcing him to reach his climax with me. I hear him whimpering in my ear as he releases himself in me, occasionally thrusting deeper and deeper making sure he fills me up fully. With one final thrust, he slowly pulls out and relaxes on top of me allowing me to play with his hair.

"I love you." I softly say

He quickly raises himself hovering over me smiling like an Idiot, "You love me?"

"I do" I laugh

"That's the first time you've said that," he says excitedly "Please say it again" He almost begs

"I love you" I giggle

"Louder," he says kissing me sloppily everywhere

"I love you!" I practically yell to the rooftops

We stay there for a while kissing, talking, and giggling enjoying our morning together in bed.

-------------------------------

I lend Namor a pair of my large old MIT sweats and I'm wearing a simple silk white robe. We sit at the kitchen island eating eggs and bacon for breakfast; This is our second plate, we worked up an appetite this morning. Watching him eat is such a pure site to see, he seems so happy and content and I can't help but feel that too.

"So," he says and pauses, "Are you okay? With everything with your mother I mean."

I take his hand and play with his palm before I answer, " I'm a lot better now. I have a lot to fill you in on actually."

"I'm all ears" He smiles

"It would be a lot quicker if I show you. Do you trust me?" I say smiling at him

"Of course"

I place my hand on his cheek and hold his head to mine using my memory transference to show him what I saw happen to my parents, what Steven and I found out from my family books, last night's conversation, and leaving my conversation with his mother for last. I pull away from him still holding his cheek, "You're mother is a lovely soul, I can see where you get it from" I say smiling at him

"Are you sure it wasn't a dream? Not that I doubt your gifts, I just want to be sure." He says reluctantly.

"I'm pretty sure. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." I say

"You apologize too much." He says smiling at me, "She was beautiful wasn't she?"

"Breathtakingly" I smile

He sheds a small tear; I stand up and make my way around to him and hold him allowing him to fully feel his emotions.

I wonder if he's ever let himself grieve.

We sit there for a while in silence processing our thoughts, "So, you cast a spell looking for me?" He finally speaks up smiling again like a dork

"Of course, that's the first thing you ask." I say looking away embarrassed "I didn't do it on purpose" I laugh

Namor pulls me into a kiss and steals the air from my lungs before asking me, "And who's Steven?"

Completely caught off guard, "A friend, why do you ask?" I say laughing

"You 2 seemed familiar," he says looking into my eyes

I roll my eyes at him, "I've been familiar with plenty of men and women." I position myself in between his legs and whisper in his ear, "Are you jealous?" I ask knowingly poking the bear

"I am a jealous man, I can admit that," he says nipping at my neck, "I don't like the idea of sharing"

I snake my hand in his hair and firmly grab it pulling his head back, "I don't either" He smiles and grabs my ass, starting up round 2

----------------------------------

The Vibe:

Frank Sinatra - Witchcraft

Namor and I have bummed around all day in the apartment, I Introduced him to Netflix so we've spent most of the day watching Hill House; for a strong stoic man he freaks out at the smallest jumpscare. Peter even joined us for a bit before he went to work. After watching episode 5 and tragically finding out who the bent-neck lady was, we both decide to take a much-needed break.

This is the perfect time to find Wanda using a locator spell.

I tell Namor my plan and he sits on the couch closely watching my every move, he was so fascinated by my magic. I clear my coffee table and lay out my map; I then go grab my decorative jar of sand and pour some on the map.

Gotta be creative...

Like before I hold my hand over the map and close my eyes focusing on an image of Wanda I have in my head.

Show me the path that I cannot find, Guide me to Wanda for I am blind.

Just as before a gust of wind flows throw my hand as I open my eyes; the sand had covered the whole map except for Sokovia...

She went home.

"Interesting," I say cleaning up my mess, "Well I know where to start looking I guess."

"Will you be going alone? I can come with you."

"She's 'The Scarlet Witch', her power is dangerous, especially for non-magic users; I'd be safer if you didn't come, no distractions." I pause and hold his hand, "Don't worry, I won't go alone; I'll bring a friend" He nods satisfied that I won't be by myself, "Well enough of that. What do ya wanna do now?" I curiously ask

"We should go out; I'd like to get to know your city," He says genuinely

"Really?" I ask

"Really" He smiles and repeats

This is going to be fun as hell

[albert-mcloy]

People who are younger than me who always regard myself as having lived a lifetime even passed when I'm dead and yet those who are older than me will always regard my life as unfinished up until time that I reach maybe middle-aged or old age and yet to myself I will always regard myself as never having been alive for long enough this I feel is the ultimate joke to god or gods depending on to what belief system you might subscribe here in lies what I believe to be a truth a truth that while many would disregard or regarded as being childish I myself believed to be ultimate it's not entirely unfounded either at 20 people don't believe they've lived long enough and yet eight-year-olds will look at these monoliths of experience and believe them to be by so profoundly large that they don't comprehend that this is 2 most people but a fraction of what we told that were able to complete by myself look at my current age of I'll be at 19 years and see in the past unused time I'm 14 years of that time we spent in school studying and yet I'm to believe that those were my glory days until I laughed and then I was told that University was going to be my glory days and then when I decided to leave University and pursue a career in hospitality I was told no don't worry you haven't lost your glory days they're at middle age and yet when I speak to middle-aged people or older people and ask them what they think my glory days might be they say we'll have yet to experience mine or or I'm hoping they're round the bend and it is at this point that I realise all those facetious or quote profound quotes of needing to seek out your own glory in your own time I'm are very much true life will not hand you anything it won't hand you lemons with which to make lemonade it won't hand you Diamonds with which 2forge beautiful rings instead deals you and credibly randomised hand whether you're born to to lower class poor suffering families middle class weather indulgent families or the ultra-rich billionaire families and this has made me realise Dakar nature the world were born to it is not ours it's not for humans it is instead forward self exists purely because it does our perceived sentence our ability to create only comes alongside our profound unintelligence this incredible dumbness a want for Destruction pathological need to disassemble in order to 2 to create product our ancestors and when I say h I use that in it's entirety I mean human ancestors down to the first bipedal monkey that we arose from would look at what we did and what do do with absolute envy our capacity to destroy and recreate is God like and yet we use it it for such a feeble fickle greedy disgusting system such as capitalism consumerism and I feel like those two words capital and consume very actually and succinctly describe and and shorten the name of of modern-day humans all we live for right now because there is nothing else that we can live for because life does not have purpose besides what is thrust upon us is capital and consumption

Idiot it is with this heavy and this tastes full realisation that I come to such a fantastic conclusion it is the with the current state of things all this hate and bigotry and the test that humans exude people realise or rather don't realise that we are heading towards a self destruction there's a new oil Project attempting to be funded and founded and if it it does become funded and founded it will ensure the death and destruction and finalization on the human race and whatever civilization comes next will find out ruins our HR2 temples to Creed and most likely if anything like us see them less as a warning and more as something to awe and so the cycle would continue

[hejsandra1]

From Cop to Mother

It's time to imagine what can be, unburdened by what I may or may not have said in 2020.

2024-07-05

I'm not american, but both in 2016 (when I was 14,) and in 2020 I was following the American election pretty intensely. The reasons I think are not that hard to understand. And, like clock work, I'm being drawn in again. I said it's obvious why a european would be invested in the state of the most influential democracy and overall country in the world, but it's not just practical -- it's also just the american entertainment and grandeur that keeps you plugged in to everything. There are no bland american politicians, at least not on national level. Everything is at once super high stakes and silly to the point of insanity. It's also one of the few times when Twitter is incredibly fun. Ususally it's frustrating, over-dramatic, collectivistic, shallow and disorganized, full of the most minute and pointless discource, but during the election year all of these weaknesses becomes strenghts, because american electoral politics are fast-paced, aesthetical, gameified, made up of small moments that may or may not be decisive (most likely not), and small comments or clips that make or break someone's likability. And the minute is allowed to feel important, when two politicians are polling side to side. This tweet I think really summarizes the intensity of american politics the last elections, compared to european elections that are in comparision uneventful and predictable. Not even major events in other elections, like rush elections called by politicians who know they will loose them, come close the rush of finding out via Twitter that caucuses for the democratic candidates are being decides based on coin tosses.

So after the first debate I'm drawn back to twitter like an addict drawn back to a good time, and I'm not disappointed. There's a seemingly unified rallying around vice president Kamala Harris and I find myself immediately on board. Yes yes yes.

She's fun, is the main drawing point, and I don't think that's pointless. Americans want fun. They also want someone who's not on their death bed. Is she goofy? Yes. But maybe that's a good thing. All the vids Republicans are posting trying to defame her (probably sensing she's the new target) just makes me smile. She's fun. She tries hard in a way that's so obvious it loops back to being genuine.

So, okay, most of this is maybe some sort of manic cope, but it feels strangely realistic -- not just a future of escaping catastrophe one election more but genuinely moving on -- to an era of lofty liberalism, xane'd out but progressive politicians and laughter and fun. If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will start sounding like Kamala Harris saying you need to look at what can be, unburdened by what has been 5 minutes in a row. After a while it start sounding so genuienly profound. You now, Trumps strenght has always been that he can say whatever and the opposition gets frustrated because his base doesn't care, they just want him to push his politics. I do think the progressive side is accelerating towards that point. I do not care. Please save NATO and the environment and lgbtq-rights and democracy. Please do a little dance while you do it. Americans can choose between old testament fire and brimstone Father or the zoony non-dualism of a chaos Mother, maybe they'll choose mother. Maybe being unburdened by what has been is what I need in my life rn. Maybe it's what we all need. Waking up to hear the catastrophe of that debate genuinenly made me ill at ease from all the way over here. So just having hope for someone even if it's a sort of at-the-end-of-the-world type of hope, it's nice. That almost makes it more intense. Maybe this is the sort of post-all-hope manic Hail Mary that convinced the apostles Jesus rose from the dead, that this was the plan all along. At the end there's a sort of burning hope. And not hoping for anything will kill you for sure.∎

[casspurrjoybell-19]

Does it Matter? - Chapter 9 - Part 1

*Warning: Adult Content*  

Paige led Dara down rows of stalls, introducing each horse in turn. 

"This is Raisin," Paige said, patting the head of a large, black horse as it leant over the stall door to greet her.

"He's our errand horse, so if you need to go somewhere, take him. Just remember to tie him up as soon as you dismount or he'll just go home without you the second you turn your back on him. He's a fine horse but I can't sell the bastard because he just finds some way to get free and come home."��

"At least he would be difficult to steal." 

"Not a huge concern around here but you're not wrong."

"Yenkarth are impossible to steal. They'll kill you just for trying."

Dara patted Raisin's head.

"I still don't know how the prince managed to earn Farah's trust. He said he found her but yenkarth will usually sooner turn wild than take to a new person. Especially since he doesn't know how to command her. It's impressive." 

"Oh, yes. You use whistles, don't you?" 

Dara nodded.

"The sound carries better than shouted commands up in the mountains. I think I can still do all of them. Not that it matters here, ma'am, since your horses aren't trained to respond to them." 

She made a face and shook her head.

"Don't call me that."

"Sir?" Dara offered and then winced.

That probably hadn't been what she'd meant.

"Sorry." 

But Paige was smiling.

"I actually don't mind the sound of that but no, Paige is fine or nothing at all. I find formalities get in the way of saying what you actually mean and I don't have time for that when I'm working." 

"That's probably for the best. I do forget myself quite a lot, unfortunately. Nobody really cared how I spoke at the barracks as long as I did my work." 

"Working for the prince must have been a hell of a change of pace." 

Dara smiled.

"It was a miracle I didn't get myself executed, really." 

"That man didn't look like he had execution on his mind when you were saying goodbye." 

That smile slowly fell from Dara's face.

"Hmm." 

"It's okay. I married a stable-hand. These things happen when the heart gets involved." 

"Let's not get carried away. I think we were both just lonely and when you're lonely any connection can feel profound. I'm sure now that he's recognised that need in himself, he'll be able to find someone more appropriate to fill it." 

"And you?" 

"I like horses. Maybe working here will give me what I've been looking for." 

"I like horses a hell of a lot too, Dara but I still married a stable-hand." 

********

They were supposed to meet with Lord Hobbs after dropping Dara off but near the end of the ride Maric had announced that he wanted to meet with the starving peasants instead.

The situation was a bit less predictable than Brayan preferred but if Lord Hobbs' display last night was anything to go by the peasants were less likely to give him reason to reach for his sword. 

The peasants who tended the fields lived in tiny, makeshift houses, cobbled together along the banks of the river that cut through the far end of the city.

Brayan didn't enjoy the energy as they rode in, women pulling their children inside and men levelling wary gazes in their direction. 

If Maric noticed, he wasn't letting it bother him.

He found a clearing large enough to hold all of their men, dismounted, and turned to address a young man leaning against a wall.

"Who's in charge here?" 

The young man had been trying to look tough and unconcerned but he hadn't been prepared to attract the prince's attention.

He unfolded and refolded his arms over his chest.

"Uh. No one." 

"No one's in charge?" 

"Well, I mean, uh. No?" 

"Quint," a woman called out from a nearby doorway and the guilty look on the young man's face and the hunching of his shoulders revealed just how young he really was.

"You get inside, now." 

Quint tensed, ready to move, torn between disobeying his mother and walking away from a prince. 

"I'm looking for someone in charge to talk to," Maric called out to the woman. 

"That'll be Nicol. If you just wait there, someone'll be getting him for you."

She beckoned to Quint.

"My son can come inside now, yeah?" 

"Hmm," Maric said and turned his back to them, stroking Farah's head as he waited. 

Maric seemed at ease but the same wasn't true for his men.

They were tense, ready to act.

None of these people were treating Maric appropriately and if Maric cared to challenge that it would be their job to educate them on how a prince ought to be treated. 

It wouldn't have been the first time.

In the military there were always people who wanted to push boundaries and because Maric was young there were those who thought they could get away with ignoring his status.

They did not get away with it.

Brayan made sure of that but these were peasants.

They were ignorant, not malicious.

There was no point even educating them in how to properly address a prince because they'd likely never have the opportunity to do it again. 

[fledermoved]

🌻🌻🌻

Send me a 🌻 and I talk about whatever I want || Accepting

I don't think anyone around here really remembers Hilda, but she was certainly a beloved OC of mine and I do miss her sometimes. Y'know those myths about the maltese tiger / blue tigers? She was meant as one of those, but she was being paraded in a showside circus and subject to mistreatment. Because of poor diet and conditions, her blue-ish fur turned to a more green hue, but she was still a popular act.

Anyway I like to think that once she's freed from captivity and learns how to be a tiger again, her fur returns to blue and maybe she gets herself a gf. Maybe it's Sabor. Who knows really.

pretty venty below so i'm putting it under a cut

I want to dedicate more time to my @ableplay blog but I just haven't had the time to lately. Tbh I haven't had the time for much of anything. Work has been devouring all of my energy and I haven't had the time to do what I love. What little time I do get away, my mind starts developing all of these new ideas that I want to implement or these new muses I want to write... But I know better than to add them, because I already owe so much. It sucks, because then I catch myself feeling like I'm not allowed to initiate these ideas until I get a good handle on what I have on my plate. It's like, a whole thing.

I need to write more, rather than just saying that I will. I need to find energy where there isn't any. I need to make progress in ableplay, and I need to do drafts for all of my blogs. It just feels like there's a lot going on. The main thing I've been feeling lately is exhausted.

I really miss Catface. I think I've gotten over the sort of initial grief sting of it, at least to the point where I don't cry about it, but I feel this profound hole where she used to be. A large part of it is that I just miss having a companion there.

We have another cat, but he wants nothing to do with me. He's my grandmother's cat, and I have a very bad relationship with my grandmother. I don't know if I'm ready for another cat, but I know my sister isn't. Hell, I don't think we can afford having another one.

But I do notice her absence every day. She spent most of the day with me when I was home and now that's over. It's an incredibly sad, incredibly empty sort of feeling.

[fragilecapricornconfessions]

I am hurting. I am hurting so much. I wish I could squeeze my heart into your ribcage so you can feel the pain for a moment. However, I understand that such a thing would be so selfish. I don't want you to hurt at all. I don't want you to be in any pain. I don't want you experiencing turmoil or destruction. It's bad enough that I have to go through these things. It's bad enough that I am alone with my thoughts most of my days, and I am struggling to find ways to cope and distract myself. I can't believe I haven't spoken to you since last year. It feels so unnatural to say that. Why can't you just reach out? Why can't I get the tiniest sign? Why must so many of my prayers be left unanswered? Do you know what I would do right now if you contacted me? I would literally jump with joy. I would stand up and start jumping. My heartrate would increase significantly, and I would put on the biggest smile I am capable of wearing. I will look up at the heavens and cross my chest. I will get down on my knees and express the sincerest form of gratitude to God in heaven. You have no clue how happy I would be and how much hope I would get if I had just the tiniest communication from you. I will accept just a few words. I would accept an emoji. I would accept a reaction to a post. View my story. Do something. Anything. Anything at all. The tiniest sign would have the most profound effect on me. However, I tell myself all the time that if it hasn't happened in eight weeks, what makes me think it will happen now? Would a catalyst be required to initiate some kind of sign or message? Is it something that could happen out of the blue? Is there any point in latching on to hope? Will I eventually make my way out of this dark abyss that I was thrown into? It's so dark in here that sometimes I'm not even sure I'm heading in the right direction. The hues in nature aren't as vibrant as they used to be. The vocals in my favorite songs aren't as melodic as I remember them to be. My favorite foods don't taste as good anymore. I never felt this way before. I suppose this is so because it took you to make me realize what true love is. I never knew what true love was. I always conflated the love I have felt in the past with true love. However, you opened up a whole new dimension of love for me that I never thought existed. I am crazy about you. You always told me how you were obsessed with me. You were infatuated by me. You were so clingy for me. You couldn't imagine going a day without me. You told me you would be devastated if we ever stopped talking. You said all these things to me. I'm not delusional. I remember it all so vividly. I can recall your words with such clarity that there is no mistaking the authenticity of my recollections. With all this being said, I can only imagine how you're feeling now that our biggest fears have manifested. Are you trying to heal? Are you latching on to hope like I am? Are you struggling to cope with everything? Are you accepting what has happened and trying to move on from it? Please tell me you still have hope. Please tell me you still wish to talk to me. Please tell me you still want to see me again one day. I love you. I love you so much. I hate that I can only see you in my dreams or in pictures. I absolutely hate it. It isn't fair to me, and I wish it weren't the case. Some people say that things sometimes have to get worse before they can get better. Why must such stupid platitudes exist in the world? Why can't things just be perpetually good? Why must we always have to prove ourselves to the world? Why must we always have to fight for love and friendship? Why must everything we do be met with some type of resistance? This is not a life worth living. I understand that the difficulty experienced will help us appreciate life more, but at some point, enough is enough. How much hurt must we endure? Why do we have to keep fighting for things that we deeply deserve? It makes no sense to me. I need you. I need you so badly, my love. Please return to me. Please don't surrender. Please don't you dare give up on us.

[pesterloglog]

John Egbert, Nannasprite

Act 2, page 420-428

JOHN: um... nanna?

NANNASPRITE: Yes, dear!

JOHN: wow, you scared the living daylights out of me!

NANNASPRITE: Hoo hoo hoo!

JOHN: well, i guess it was a really great prank. good one nanna.

JOHN: anyway, are you REALLY my dead nanna?

NANNASPRITE: Of course, John! I have come back to help you on your journey through The Medium and beyond! I am delighted to see what a fine young man you have turned out to be. Just like your father!

JOHN: ok, i guess i will take your word for it. i don't remember you at all! my dad said i was really young when you died.

JOHN: hey speaking of which, do you know where he is??? i looked everywhere for him!

NANNASPRITE: Your father was kidnapped!

JOHN: oh no!

NANNASPRITE: When you crossed over to The Medium, he was apprehended by the very forces of darkness which your presence here has awakened.

JOHN: what? ok, so what is the medium you are talking about?

NANNASPRITE: It is where we are now! A realm that is a ring of pure void, dividing light and darkness. It turns in the thick of The Incipisphere, a place untouched by the flow of time in your universe.

JOHN: you mean because we are inside a computer, or in the game software or something?

NANNASPRITE: A computer? Why, what is that, dear? Some new fangled contraption, like the horseless auto-boxcar?

JOHN: well, uh, it's like this machine that, uh...

NANNASPRITE: Hoo hoo hoo! Of course I know what a computer is, John! I was just pulling your leg! Hoo hoo hoo!

JOHN: oh, ok.

NANNASPRITE: No, John. You are not inside a computer or software or anything like that! Try not to be so linear, dear. The software that brought you here was merely a mechanism that served as a gateway! Its routines in a way served to invoke this realm's instance, yet it stands independently of any physical machine, and somewhat paradoxically, always has!

JOHN: i'm not sure i get it, but alright.

JOHN: so what do i actually need to be doing here?

NANNASPRITE: I think it would be best if we started with the big picture!

NANNASPRITE: Above The Medium, beyond The Seven Gates, residing at the core of The Incipisphere is a place known as Skaia.

NANNASPRITE: Legend holds that Skaia exists as a dormant crucible of unlimited creative potential. What does this mean, you ask? I'm afraid my lips are sealed about that, dear! Hoo hoo!

NANNASPRITE: But needless to say, where a realm of such profound importance is concerned, forces of light will forever be charged with its defense, while forces of darkness will just as persistently covet its destruction!

NANNASPRITE: And as it so happens, at the center of this realm whose fate is in question, these very forces duel on a stage, stuck in eternal stalemate.

NANNASPRITE: Yes, they have dueled in this manner forever... that is, until you showed up!

JOHN: ME??

NANNASPRITE: Yes, you, John!

NANNASPRITE: Before your mishap with my ashes, you may recall the Sprite's previous incarnation, which resulted from its Kernel's "hatching".

NANNASPRITE: You see, this hatching occurs automatically in response to your arrival! The result is a pair of Kernels, one dark, one light, each carrying the information they were prototyped with before the hatch!

NANNASPRITE: One goes down, to a kingdom entrenched in darkness. The other, up, to a kingdom basking in light! Each comes to rest in an Orb atop a Spire, of which there are three others in kind. The Four Spires are situated above a throne, and these two thrones preside over the two respective Sovereign Powers!

NANNASPRITE: And once the Kernels are situated, that is when the game is afoot. The true war begins, light versus dark, good versus evil.

NANNASPRITE: This is a war that the forces of light are always destined to lose, without exception!

JOHN: wow, really? then what's the point?

NANNASPRITE: That remains for you to find out, dear! For you see, the journey you are about to take is The Ultimate Riddle!

JOHN: whoa!!!

NANNASPRITE: For now, your objective is to proceed towards Skaia, and pass through The First Gate situated directly above your house, not even terribly far! The Gates will become progressively more difficult to reach, so you had better be prepared to sharpen your adventuring skills!

JOHN: how am i supposed to get up there?

NANNASPRITE: You build!

JOHN: ok, i think i get it now!

JOHN: so i guess the battle against good and evil is sort of irrelevant? well, i don't know, that all sounds kind of weird, but in any case, we build the house to get to these gates, and then i can save my dad!

NANNASPRITE: Yes, John!

JOHN: and then after that, we solve this ultimate riddle thing and save earth from destruction!!!

NANNASPRITE: Oh no, I'm afraid not!

NANNASPRITE: Your planet is done for, dear! There is nothing you can do about that!

JOHN: oh...

NANNASPRITE: Your purpose is so much more important than saving that silly old planet, though!

JOHN: and that is?

NANNASPRITE: HOO HOO HOO HOO HOO!

NANNASPRITE: John, you are such a good boy! I know you will succeed.

JOHN: thanks, nanna.

NANNASPRITE: You are a good boy, and good boys deserve treats!

JOHN: hooray!

NANNASPRITE: I am going to go bake you some cookies.

JOHN: ...

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Thoughts on this anons hot take:

mod if you allow me to give my opinion about what anon asked, my impression of Harry's team is that they isolate him a lot. remember irving azzoff saying he was against artists making online shows at the pandemic cause it made them look mortals or something and that's the approach i feel they have with Harry sometimes, not only with fans but also between them, i remember Lambert, Olivia, Harris (?) talking about him on Vogue like he was a fashion god who was redefining gender roles in a totally new way and I already knew people would take out of context and attack Harry for "thinking too much of himself" and not "crediting people who came before" when HE didn't say anything.

I'm sure Harry likes the attention, likes to feel he's on top and is so very loved but the dearest person he is on stage or attentive one when meet fans definitely doesn't match the image tabloids still try to sell of a homewrecker, a womanizer, a bad professional who sleeps with his boss and make the entire crew uncomfortable. it's complicated because by not saying anything, Harry and his team let his story be told by others through lies or half trues. he needs media training/discourse on some subjects or a pr person on his team with knowledge in diversity to help him and check his interviews.

he urgently needs friends outside his employees, normal friends, old friends, it's ok if he wants to protect these people too but isn't healthy that his bffs are all people he's working with, the dynamics are too complex. he doesn't need to be papped or spotted ~organically~ by fans every week. after holivia we pretty much know he can go mia weeks or can choose to walk on the busiest street in town to be seen. i don't know if he should be on social media if it made him so sad and he feels better without it but there's tools and ways to communicate with fans in a less institutional way.

think it's okay to have fun, to be human, to show a biiit of himself, cause Harry IS a great person, kind, smart, funny, has taste and nice opinions but the environment around him is way too controlled and maybe i understand why he would like this way better but someday it'll start to drive people away. cheap tabloid gossip DEFINITELY isn't the way to go though. Harry is - and should be promoted as - more than the people he allegedly hook up with. it's 2023 and fans who can't see him past his looks or his body aren't that interested on his partners either. he has a great fanbase who will be here for him if he decides to take some time off - which he should - and maybe it's time to rekindle with these fans and turn a bit down the gp focused campaigns

Well it does fit the exact definition of a hot take, but I guess I always see a hot take as an opinion that isn’t commonly held as well and I think some of what anon wrote is what a lot of people think and is not some profound new perspective. Maybe it’s just a lukewarm take.

I still find it odd how entitled fans feel. I don’t think he needs media training or should speak out if he doesn’t want to. Maybe the way the media and fans see him needs to evolve not how he handles stuff. I mean I’ve been accused of defending him no matter what before but honestly I don’t think he should be held responsible to act a certain way just because the majority of society says this is how to do things. He’s innately contrarian so not sure why anyone would expect this to be different?

It’s so funny people say this shit as if he wasn’t papped with Ellis or referred to Johnny in a song?Are these not non-industry friends. I think fans need to urgently stop thinking they know him and see him clearly when they very apparently don’t. Almost everything they say has verifiable contradictory proof of the opposite. Funny for a stranger to say what’s healthy for someone they don’t know personally. Ultimately this fan thinks the way they think he should be is the best for him without considering what he wants for himself and that’s what I mean by entitlement. Trust Harry to know himself better than you do, when you don’t know him? It’s the weirdest thing.

Maybe the people who are driven away should be and that’s part of this whole strategy. Who knows? I’m not sure I’d agree he has great fans. I think most are entitled and treat and talk about him in horrifying ways actually. Maybe he doesn’t need to engage with fans in ways they keep demanding but in ways that he feels comfortable with and if they can’t respect his boundaries then they can go be fans of someone else.

That’s my lukewarm response.

[emotionallychargedtowel]

Warning, this gets rambly! This topic just connects to a number of things I find interesting and to some personal experiences of mine.

Also I haven't seen the new episode yet! I'm only caught up to episode 9.

I loved @wen-kexing-apologist's work on the original post here. There were a lot of points where I wanted to say, "but--" or "what about--" but I think even if you favor a different interpretation of this relationship, you can't argue with the fact that WKA has lots of evidence to marshal in favor of this argument. In the end, if Ray does have a shred of meaningful feelings for Sand (or anything scrap of something that could become meaningful) or any sincere concern for Sand, it's a very damning commentary on his behavior that WKA's interpretation is so convincing. I like what @porridgefeast added here. I think the central point I took from what she had to say here is that Ray is a bundle of contradictions and ambivalence and almost entirely bereft of self-awareness and that kind of widens out the scope of reasonable interpretations of the things he does because of the uncertainty that comes with that. If I can use a stats metaphor, any data we get from Ray is riddled with measurement error and we have to apply a gigantic confidence interval to any conclusions we draw from it. Personally, I think part of what makes this discussion, and similar ones about Sand and Ray, confusing is that it gets into a gray area about what the meaning of love is. And that's both as profound and as pointlessly semantic as it sounds. Because this gray area is connected to some really important questions but where we stand on them can be really dependent on where we happen to draw boundaries around different words. The main issue I'm thinking of here is exactly the kind of connections between people that we're seeing with Sand and Ray--do we still call it love when the feelings someone has for the other person are shallow, selfish, objectifying, or otherwise associated with the basest, most corrupt parts of human nature? This is actually something I have given a lot of thought to as a survivor of intimate partner violence. Do I call the way my abuser felt about me "love"? It definitely had some attributes we often associate with love, albeit only the worst kind (obsession, possessiveness). It also lacked some of the most central ones (for example, sincerely caring about my feelings and well-being). It seems both deeply true and like an oversimplification to say, "he never really loved me." One way I sometimes try to reconcile this confusion is to look for other words I can use that might clarify things. One extremely nerdy, old-fashioned psychology term I find useful here is "cathexis." From what I understand, bell hooks uses it to good effect in All About Love: New Visions, but while I've read portions of it, I'm not very familiar with that book so I can't summarize what she said about it on the fly. It's kind of embarrassing, actually, because I've owned the book for quite a while and used a passage from it in my wedding! Maybe this is my cue to pick it back up. In the meantime, I'll talk about what this term means and the distinction between cathexis and love using my background knowledge of psychoanalytic theory and related material.

Cathexis was coined by James Strachey, who did a lot of the first translations of Freud into English, came up with that term as an equivalent to one of Freud’s. Strachey tended to make things more esoteric and fancy-sounding than they needed to be, and cathexis is a perfect example. (He also came up with "vicissitudes." A favorite professor of mine used to always make fun of him for that one.) Freud apparently wasn't a fan of "cathexis." But I like it. Something about the sound of it seems appropriate to what it means. And its weirdness means we don't have to say "I'm using this term in a psychoanalytic sense" because nobody uses this term in any other way.

Basically, cathexis is the state of having a sizable emotional investment in someone or something. The verb form is "to cathect." I find it useful because it’s an accurate word for those things that aren’t love in the strict sense but have a related degree of obsession, desire, affiliation, and so on. It has a broader meaning as well (you can cathect with a security blanket, a football team, a religious figure, etc. etc.), but when applied to someone's feelings about a person who is a partner or potential partner, the word captures a lot of the things that come with loving someone without presupposing the selfless, giving, putting someone else before yourself part.

The thing about cathexis is that it can happen on its own, it can be a precursor to love, and it can coexist with love. Some theorists--I think bell hooks might take this tack--think the honeymoon phase of any relationship is always cathexis and actual love only comes later. I think this point is important because cathexis isn't some kind of fake love or un-love or anti-love. It's just a way of thinking and feeling that overlaps with love in some places but not in others--and where it overlaps can depend on the person doing the cathecting and how they think and feel about the person they're cathecting to. It can be a precursor to a real, profound kind of love or it can stagnate, never deepening even if it's very intense.

This time factor is the reason why our interpretations of these kinds of feelings are riddled with hindsight bias. Well, at a certain point it stops even being a bias and becomes just a convention of how we talk about things. When we first get really into a person we might say, “I’m in love with X.,” but when things go badly we can say, “I thought I was in love with X but I really wasn’t.” We might add other labels in retrospect like if I said, "I thought I was in love but I was just infatuated."

Love gets defined by how it turns out. I’m this way about my spouse. I can remember times when I had a crushy or lustful thought about him when we first met and I think, “that was the beginning of me falling in love.” But I had similar thoughts about other people at that time whose names I don’t even remember now. I had a whole other (brief but intense) relationship and a weird casual thing between our first meeting and starting to date each other. I wasn't thinking about him that way during that time, much less pining for him or something. But when I look back now, I attend to all of the details that pointed toward our getting together in a way I wouldn't if things hadn't turned out this way. But I don't think it's just bias and there's nothing real there, either. It's valid to look at a thing differently because of what resulted from it down the line.

I've digressed a lot at this point, so I'm going to bring it back to what this has to do with Sand and Ray. These two started out attracted to each other and determined not to get emotionally involved. They started bonding, partly because they were hanging out in other ways, partly because sleeping with someone tends to lead to getting at least a little bit attached to them. (This is the reason people regularly go from being friends with benefits to dating and more. It's hardly inevitable, but it happens.) They started making bigger emotional investments in each other. Sand's investment was greater, but Ray was getting significantly invested without admitting it to himself. Sand was more infatuated but was clearly trying to be realistic about his claims on Ray.

Ray was on the complete other end of the scale--he started to feel entitled to Sand's time, attention, and esteem, not to mention sexual access to Sand, without stopping to give the slightest thought to whether this was realistic or reasonable. But he barely stopped to think about Sand long enough to figure out what he thought of him or how he felt about him. If anything, I think that entitled, objectifying tendency began to act as a defense against getting cathected with Sand. But it's not an effective defense. Just telling himself that Sand is a commodity--and telling Sand as well--doesn't preclude him from building a different kind of emotional investment in Sand. I don't think it's possible for him to compartmentalize and choose to have one kind of investment in Sand and not another.

None of this means that the investment he has in Sand is good, or honest, or selfless, or that he sees Sand as a real human being, or understands or knows him in any serious way. In other words, none of this means that he loves Sand at all in the strict sense. But if we followed the usual conventions, if Ray's cathexis shifts to actually loving Sand, we'd retroactively label this unhealthy, selfish cathexis as love or a precursor to it. Maybe we shouldn't do that, but it's how things are typically thought about and talked about. If we resolve to be more precise about these things, we could say that this isn't love, but that the kind of cathexis Ray has toward Sand is something that can become love.

The question becomes, then, is it realistic to think that someone who cathects with another person in an incredibly objectifying, selfish, hurtful way could shift to actually loving that person in a real sense? I would say that there are people, like partner abusers, who have habitually refused to treat others as human beings in a way that precludes really loving someone else unless they make big changes in their life. That's probably the most effective way to compartmentalize possessiveness and entitlement and keep them separate from the-kind-of-investment-that-could-become-love: being a full-on abuser. It worked for my ex.

Maybe Ray is too close to that at this point to, like, be a real person with a soul again and not just a husk of a human being. But I'm pretty sure the writers of Only Friends plan to rehabilitate this character and pair him up with Sand in the end, and they're the final authority in that universe. They may put Ray through the ringer to get us to the point where we can possibly root for him again. Part of that may well involve him having to live with the fact that he doesn't own Sand, even having to see him with someone else. Honestly, I think it'd have to include that part of things, and would have to involve a pretty huge shift in his perspective, for me and a lot of other viewers to be able to root for that relationship at all.

You're Mine No Matter What: The Commodification of Sand

I have been thinking a lot in the last couple weeks about the dynamic between Ray and Sand, namely the significant imbalance between Sand and Ray in their relationship to one another that has been at the very least, fun to watch, even as I have been slightly miffed at Sand being so much of a simp for Ray when Ray does not reciprocate these feelings. 

Now, @emotionallychargedtowel had a brilliant write up about Sand’s possible parentification and resulting need to play the caretaker for the people around him, which everyone should read. I loved it a lot because it puts Sand in to perspective, that he can be jerked around and insulted and still have care and still want to help the person who is actively and intentionally trying to insult him. Sand likes Ray, that much has been clear from the moment Ray rested his head on Sand’s shoulder after puking in Episode 1, but Ray? Ray does not see Sand the same way, as much as his puppy dog eyes may lead Sand to believe. 

To Ray, who is rich, and difficult to manage, and holds on so tightly to the belief he is a burden, Sand is a commodity, something Ray owns. And it is absolutely hilarious to me that I was thinking about trying to do this write up and drop it before Episode 8, and decided I should wait. AND I AM SO GLAD I DID BECAUSE RAY LITERALLY SAID AS MUCH TO SAND THIS EPISODE. 

Listen, I love First and I love Khao and I love FirstKhao’s chemistry, but in no way, shape, or form do I want Ray and Sand to end up together, they are terrible for each other, and Sand’s lack of self respect at this point is a motherfucking tragedy. I mean, think about it, what care has Ray given to Sand?

Drove Sand to his apartment after the party (and then ditched him in the middle of a make out)

Offered to buy him a guitar

What care has Sand given to Ray? 

Driven him home and taken care of him when he was blackout drunk 

Hung out with him when no one else was around to care: Paid

Hung out with him when no one else was around to care: For Free

Cooked food for Ray 

Changed his work schedule to play at the hostel party

Cooked breakfast for Ray 

Let Ray use him as an excuse to not go to work and instead spending the day with him on Sand’s birthday 

Helped Ray change his clothes 

Followed after Ray and tried to stop him from drunk driving after Ray called him a whore 

Saved Ray from his car accident

(Most likely) agreed to something from Ray’s dad 

Took care of Ray when he was injured including helping him shave and bathe.

Tried to save Ray from getting caught with drugs by the cops after Ray interrupted his time with another guy and kissed him without consent

Tried to fight the cops to get them to let Ray go after Ray essentially said that he owned Sand.

Sand is poor, he’s booked and busy, he’s barely got time of his own to spend on the things he enjoys, he is fundamentally a caretaker, juggling school, multiple jobs, and his mother’s health. We see how much of grind Sand’s life is in the montage at the beginning of Episode 5, he does not have room to slip another person in to his life, hell, the boy barely has any friends. He’s never hanging out with anyone unless it’s Nick and he’s at home. So it is very important to keep in mind that Sand is making time for Ray. Sand has a life that is jam packed and stressful, and Ray keeps asking for more and more of Sand’s time. Time Sand cannot really afford to give and gives it anyway. 

Sand is a caretaker, Sand has a crush on Ray, Sand cannot say no to Ray’s puppy dog eyes and chronic need for help. And the tragedy here is that there is a world where I can see how Sand convinced himself that he and Ray were maybe moving in the same direction. Because Ray couldn’t let go. They fucked once, and Sand said that Ray was going to keep wanting him, and he was right. From the very beginning of their relationship to one another, Ray has been the one constantly asking for and initiating physical intimacy with Sand. The first time we see Sand initiate anything really isn’t until Episode 5 when he goes slack jawed looking at Ray before they kiss and even then Ray is the one that leans in to meet him. Ray is the pursuer here, Ray is the one that stalks Sand, Ray is the one that interrupts Sand’s next one night stand, Ray is the one that is always asking if he can stay over, that is asking for help, that is asking for sex. So of course Sand is going to start thinking some type of way about what he and Ray are to each other, even if they haven’t had any conversations about the nature of their relationship. 

But I think Sand is so used to taking care of other people that he hasn’t really gotten it through his head that Ray doesn’t not feel the same. We see every twist of the knife in Sand’s face in Episode 5 whenever he is reminded of that fact. But I think that despite the shit that Ray has put him through, Sand hasn’t fully realized, or at least, he is refusing to admit it to himself that there is no scenario where Ray falls in love with him, because to Ray, Sand is a commodity. 

Sand is something to be bought. 

Sand is someone Ray can go to when he wants to be serviced. 

Sand is his favorite toy. 

Ray doesn’t like Sand, Ray likes the attention, Ray likes being noticed, Ray likes being cared for, because in his life, his friends mostly ignore him, his father mostly ignores him, his mother is dead and he grew up knowing that she hated him. Ray fell in love with Mew because Mew gave him attention and care, because Ray held him in the bathtub while he sobbed, and Ray has never been able to let go of that idea. But so too, has Ray not been able to let go of the other person who is providing happiness on tap. 

favorite photo ever, courtesy of @liyazaki

There are two critical details to remember about Ray. One- Ray is rich, Two- Ray has substance use disorder. Which means that Ray is constantly looking for the next thing that will make him feel good. He drinks to forget, he does cocaine, Ray by nature of his substance dependency does not have a concept of delayed gratification. Ray is extremely rooted in the present, in whatever dopamine hit is within the closest reach. And Sand and his natural tendency to give everything he has is one of the easiest things for him to reach for. Every time that Sand has tried to set a boundary, Ray has crossed it because he knows Sand has feelings for him, he knows he can manipulate that if he just begs cute enough. When he wants sex, he can get sex, when he wants adventure, he can get adventure, when he wants care, he can get care quick, easy, and cheap. Ray paid Sand once for his time, and learned he could be bought, and he has held on to that one time subscription fee extremely tightly. 

When it comes to Ray and Sand, there is no winning for Sand that is not defined by the two of them never seeing each other again. Because the second that Ray paid Sand for his time, Sand became Ray’s property, and Ray has never stopped thinking of Sand as such. And we know this is true because of everything Ray does and says related to Sand showing any level of autonomy that runs counter to Ray’s vested interests. 

Ray pays for Sand to hang out with him, and soon afterwards, Sand tries to bring a girl home from the bar for a one night stand, only for Ray to interrupt them. Sand ends up going home with Ray instead. Ray convinces Sand to keep making out with him in the car, and then casts Sand aside the second that Mew calls. Sand tries to put up a barrier and Ray is like “yeah sure I’ll care about your feelings, why don’t I buy you a guitar?” because Ray is rich, and so his first solution to conflict is to throw money at the problem, but Sand is easily sated by a little bit of crossed thumbs. 

Sand tries to set another boundary in Episode 6 after he learns that Ray has a crush on Mew, and Ray blows right through that boundary by as @emotionallychargedtowel calls it, “aggressively falling apart”. Ray, to be fair to him is not getting drunk and falling to pieces to intentionally rope Sand back in to his gravity, but Sand’s long held tendencies to help people are going to send him back to Ray every time, because Ray is desperately in need of help and no one else can really be fucked. 

If we weren’t already aware of Ray’s tendency to think of Sand as property, we get another great indication of Ray’s mentality around Sand in the same episode. When Ray is going off on everyone at the bar on Mew’s birthday, Sand tries to step in to stop Ray’s escalation. Ray does not take kindly to this, and says to Sand’s face, in public “You don’t wanna be a singer. You just want to make money. If you want it so much, why don’t you sleep with me?” thus associating Sand’s moments of physical intimacy and sex with Ray as purchasable, as commodities. Why? Because Sand could be bought once, and thus can be bought again. Ray doesn’t think about Sand as a suitor, he thinks of Sand as a whore, and again he says as much when Sand runs after Ray to try to stop him from drunk driving. 

Sand: “Stop thinking about Mew and focus on me for once. Can’t you really see that I care about you?”

Ray: “Why would you poke your nose in my business? What are we to each other? What are we?” 

Sand: “Right. We are nothing to each other, but at least I am your fellow human. I don’t want you to drive when drunk. You can risk your life all you want. But don’t you dare risk other people’s lives too.” 

Ray: “Let go of me you shit. Let go. Or I need to pay you, whore?” 

And thus we have our answer to Ray’s initial question, “What are we to each other?” “whore”. When Ray is wasted, and pissed, and Sand is showing active defiance over Ray’s behavior, Ray reverts immediately back in to the mindset that Sand is owned, that his behavior, his choices, his morals can be changed if enough money is handed to him. Because Ray has bought Sand before, because Sand is poor, and Ray is rich, and Ray thinks that the only thing that Sand could possibly want is more money. 

Sand will commit crimes for money (making and selling plum wine). Sand will hang out with Ray for money. Sand will sing for money. Ray comes from a world with money, it is not absent struggle, but Ray’s struggles are more internal, engrained in his family dynamics. He has never had to worry about making enough money for rent, he has never had to worry about violence being done to him or a loved one from debtors when they can’t pay their interest on time, Ray has never had to live in a world without money, and it is clear from the first episode that Ray is someone that looks down on  poor people, the way he immediately accuses Sand of stealing from him when he wakes up in Sand’s apartment. 

And again, to be fair to Ray, he is not the only one. A couple of the other rich boys look down on Sand the same way. Mew wants Ray to lower his standards and settle for Sand, as if a relationship with Sand would somehow be lesser, when Sand is a good person who cares about and takes good care of Ray, he’s just poor. Top, similar looks down on Sand, he stole his boyfriend, he thinks absolutely nothing of Sand. 

Ray gets in a car accident, Sand saves his life, and then Ray’s expectation from there is that Sand will take care of him. Sand (who has very limited funds compared to Ray) buys him a drink, he helps him strip, he helps him shave, he waits hand and foot on Ray. And how does Ray repay him? By jumping in to a relationship with Mew the very second an opportunity presents itself, leaving Sand once again in the dust. Because Ray doesn’t ever actually take Sand’s feelings in to consideration when he is making decisions. Sand is a plaything to Ray, and Ray has a shinier new offer dangling in front of him. 

Sand, once again, tries to set a boundary, establish a barrier, remind himself and remind Ray that they aren’t friends, they haven’t been friends, and Sand is trying to be the bigger, better person by letting Ray go, by telling him he is happy for Ray to have finally gotten what he wanted in his relationship with Mew. And throughout the entire exchange, Ray keeps looking so confused when he hears Sand’s consistent rejection of Ray’s wishes about how he and Sand will move forward in their relationship to one another now that Ray is dating Mew.  

“So what’s up with Mew? I heard he broke up with Top” Sand asks, and Ray swallows hard, in a way that I personally read as guilty. 

“Good, you can finally end the secret crush. Such a waste of time, right?” a confession from Sand that Ray picks up on. 

“Are you okay?” Ray asks, this is the second time that Ray has tried to check in on Sand after his relationship to Mew got in the way of his relationship to Sand. 

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re seeing someone you always loved. It’s a dream come true.” Sand once again is not acknowledging out loud or honestly his own feelings, but he is putting his own feelings aside to acknowledge Ray’s feelings. To try to, even still, even after how shittily Ray has treated him, even after how much Ray has taken Sand’s care for granted, spare Ray from feeling bad about fucking with his feelings. 

“Can we still be friends?” Ray asks, because he hasn’t ever had actual consequences for his behavior before. 

“Friends? You and I have never been friends from the get-go. We have nothing in common. Besides, I don’t know why I should be friends with you.” Sand replies, again trying to create a barrier between him and Ray that allows him to be free from Ray’s gravity. 

“But, when I’m with you, I’m so damn happy.” Ray says, because shit like that has always worked with Sand in the past: “Can we hang out together?”, “jerking off feels so good when you’re hungover”, “can you help me?”, and for the first time it really seems like Sand is sticking to his guns. 

*deep breath from Sand, who seems like he is fighting back tears he is so upset at hearing that Ray is happy with him and yet having Ray deny that in favor of chasing his next piece of ass* “You will be too when you spend time with Mew. What you did with me, you will get to do it with him. You might even be happier.”

Sand tries to walk away and Ray grabs him by the arm, because Ray has never once let Sand maintain a boundary, “Sand.”

gif from @liyazaki

“Let me go already.” Sand replies, and Sand here is begging Ray not only to literally let him go, but metaphorically, emotionally, to free Sand of this back and forth. To release him from this existence as someone to be jerked around, whose feelings can be trifled with because Ray isn’t fully capable of seeing Sand as a person with his own feelings that are impacted by the choices that Ray makes. 

And because Ray cannot let it go, cannot just let his precious toys leave him, he remains adamant about blowing past barriers as often as possible when it comes to his interactions with Sand. Sand literally asks Ray to let him go, and not long after that Ray is wandering back in to the study room where Sand is, trying to get them back on good terms. But again, to point out that Ray commodifies Sand, what is it that Ray is asks him for? Is it to go out to dinner with him? Is it to just hang out and chill? To go to the bar? Is it to apologize for his behavior? 

No. 

Ray asks Sand to come with him to do social work, to come with him to play music for children. Why? Because Sand knows how to play guitar, and Ray knows that he can wear Sand down eventually. But it bears reminding that Ray’s social work is court ordered, he is literally asking Sand to suffer the (very minimal) consequences of Ray’s drunk driving with him, and he’s trying to pick the social work option that is the least miserable, the least amount of work, and he is trying to rope in the only person he knows who can get him out of the types of social work that involve manual labor. Because Ray cannot play an instrument, so he would not be able to play music for children without Sand’s presence. 

Once again, Ray proves that he is not capable of associating Sand with anything other than a service provider. 

Or, as we see later on in the episode, as property. 

Because here Ray is, fucking with Sand’s feelings, dating Mew, making out with Mew at the party and there Sand is, not wanting to be at this party in the least but going anyway because he feels bad about what he did to Nick by stealing and sharing that TopBoston audio file, trying to move on, trying to kiss a random stranger with mutual interests at this party, only to have…

Ray interrupt them before they can kiss, squeeze himself physically in between Sand and Freddie #2, and asking if the two of them have slept together. 

“Did you sleep with him?” 

“Damn it, Ray. Are you high? How about you go to sleep?”

“I want to sleep with you. Or what, should we invite Mr. Freddie here to sleep with us? Let’s do it, I’ll go first,” 

AND THEN RAY GRABS SAND AND KISSES HIM WITHOUT HIS CONSENT (which I am pretty certain Mew would consider cheating especially after the whole ordeal with Top) when Sand was just about to consensually kiss someone who wasn’t Ray (again, Ray is unable to let Sand ever exhibit his own autonomy). Until Freddie #2 leaves them alone, assuming they are in a relationship, and not wanting to get involved with “someone else’s boyfriend”

“What the fuck is this. You have Mew now. What do you want from me? Go guard your boyfriend,” 

“I can have feelings for as many people as I want,” 

“But you can’t do this to me,” 

“Stop fooling yourself, Sand. You like me,” Ray points “You love me. You can’t walk away from me. You’re mine no matter what.”

gif by @moonkhao

and there is a reason why they put Ray in the fucking Joker’s costume for this episode, cause that boy is acting toxic as all hell. So even now, Ray isn’t sated, Ray made his choices, Ray picked Mew, Ray left Sand in the dust, but Ray cannot separate Sand’s autonomy out from Ray’s possession of him. I love Only Friends for the level of hypocrisy they allow their characters to have. Ray is allowed to date and have feelings for Mew, and to want Sand, but Sand is not allowed to move on from Ray, Sand is not allowed to have feelings for other people, let alone just make out with a stranger or fuck somebody else without any feelings involved. 

And I cannot stress enough that this is shitty behavior on Ray’s part, this isn’t cute, this isn’t funny, the extent to which Ray is possessive over a person he has no right to act that way towards is inconsiderate, rude, and objectifying. Sand is not allowed to have his own thoughts, Ray must put words in his mouth. Sand is not allowed to move on from Ray, Ray will keep pushing Sand’s boundaries until Sand relents because Ray knows he can manipulate Sand’s feelings for him, Sand will always be a caretaker and Ray will always need taking care of. Sand is maybe waking up to this fact, or maybe the horror in his eyes when Ray is yelling at him is Sand realizing at the very least that Ray knows how Sand feels about him, and Sand is admitting to himself in this moment that like Nick, he can’t help but love this person who has treated him poorly. 

Because Sand is a caretaker, and caretakers, at least in my own experience, are used to having their own wants and needs trampled over. No boundary withstands first contact with someone in need of help. I have tried to reach out and give support to people that I know didn’t like me after they went through hard times together, I don’t talk to my friends about shit that is actually and actively impactful to my mental health and wellbeing, many of the people I am friends with frequently only reach out when they need something from me. If they needed homework answers, or if they needed observation, or if they needed to be picked up early in the morning from the airport and otherwise they never really talked to me. Like, I get a lot of where Sand is coming from with his need to take care of Ray because Ray is a young adult, going through a lot, in need of a lot of professional help he isn’t getting, and Sand can’t not be compelled to help him as much as he can. 

And listen, in my opinion some of Sand’s actions with Ray are justified from a safety perspective, Sand is a caretaker, Sand knows Ray is willing to drink and drive, Sand puts his pride aside to try and ensure that Ray doesn’t leave in his car, and then follows him to make sure that he doesn’t get in to an accident. Those actions make sense to me.

gif from @bird-inacage

Sand doesn’t want Ray to get in to any more legal trouble, so tries to hide the evidence of drugs and get Ray out of the party, which in a normal circumstance I would generally be in support of, but crucially, as @neuroticbookworm and @lurkingshan have touched on in some of their posts Sand cannot afford a run in with police.  Not in the same way that Ray can. Ray is rich, Ray says he can handle the cops, and he can because he can buy them off, the way that Top bought them off. But Sand doesn’t come from a world where he can skirt consequences. 

But there are many places where Sand lets himself get trampled over because he has legitimate feelings for Ray, and Ray won’t let Sand make his own choices long enough to wake up, look around, and realize that Ray has literally given him nothing of substance in return.

[belovedblabber]

I wanted to send an ask but I did't want to bother you, but since other peeps did that might shoot my shot. In the poem he says that when the time comes (the second resurrection most probably) he'll lie down beside A.L and die. In the dream, he says to Harrow that the Tomb is his self preservation in a box and that the apocalypse is the death of God(he was talking about the second resurrection). He needs Alecto to do it, and they are connected so if she dies he dies and vice versa.1/2

Does he (and Alecto) have to die for the resurrection to happen? Or they can pull a Paul? John wanted to be used and consumed by Alecto after all. Also this implies that he has been suicidal for ten thousand years but that's another matter entirely. I love your John metas so I thought you could offer some insight about the use of the word "die" in the poem? If I'm bothering you I apologize tho,,, 2/2

OK I am FINALLY getting around to answering this. And you are not bothering me at all, I LOVE getting asks like this

I had honestly not thought about the possibility of John and Alecto pulling a Paul ('pull a paul' is also my new favorite wording to describe that moment thank you)

That's super fascinating as a concept because in theory I feel like, if Cam and Pal were able to do that, John should be able to as well? On the other hand we still don't know a lot about the particulars of John and Alecto's situation and if there are specific limitations or weirdness tied to their particular bond (seeing as the soul of the entire earth might be a different situation than two normal human souls).

The use of the word die in the poem at the start of NtN is super interesting. The way it is very seamlessly integrated in next to sleep ("Lie down beside you; die; and sleep the night") the way it is composed leaves some ambiguity over whether this reference to dying is metaphorical in some sense, or literal. In reference to his 'killing' Alecto at the lyctor's request John says that he "switched her off." Could John hypothetically lay down beside her in this same sort of 'sleep' state? No clue, a this point there are so many questions about the logistics of how this all works.

The wording of the NtN poem also makes me thing of Augustine's statement to mercy right after she kills John (the one culminating in "my bones will rest easy next to your bones.")

Both sentiments, the poem's and Augustine's speech, feature that idea of starting over, albeit John's being more ominous, and also based in vengeance and the idea of a 'clean slate' ("empty's just another word for clean," "first-draft dream" etc.) And like I said, John's sentiment here is also based in his rage and desire for vengeance/retribution ("When everyone who fucked with me is dead.") I think that the way John's sentiment here contrasts with Mercy/Augustine's desire for regrowth in a home "not paid for with blood" is very interesting (I also find that line interesting in what "paid with blood" implies about how much Mercy and Augustine know about what happened in the past). But anyway, I just think it's neat how if you contrast John's sentiment with Mercy/Augustine's here it really does highlight the degree to which C—'s "John you care less about being a saviour than you do about meting out punishment" is such a telling and accurate character read on John's state of mind as he descended further and further into that anger and helplessness in the backstory (a state of mind that you have to imagine has only grown more entrenched over the past ten thousand years).

Staying on this topic, in his final conversation with Harrow John very much showcases this idea of a clean slate etc. "You can wash things clean. That's all the end of Earth was...making things clean. It gets dirty again, you clean it again." I know I'm not pointing out anything profound here, but I do just think this idea of a clean slate, of starting over, is pretty key to John and what John's actions might be in AtN. And of course he is not set on this course of action, he has the whole bit about "I wouldn't be able to touch them" and the tomb being his "self-preservation in a box." Aka we see these two sort of conflicting desires in John, and I feel like we are likely going to see this be a key aspect of AtN

But anyway, I really do find it interesting to compare and contrast the NtN poem and John's musings to Harrow at the end of NtN with Augustine's speech in HtN. The NtN poem references pulling up the sheets, lying down, dying/sleeping etc. And then you have the poem's "Forgiveness not so hard, nor anger long; Our graves will be less deep, our lies less true" from the poem, compared with Augustine's "Then let us not seek out forgiveness, but forgetfulness," he said, "Bury me next to you in that unmarked grave, Joy. We know that was the only hope we ever had—that we would live to see it through...and pray for our own cessation."

I don't have anything eloquent to say on these parallels at this point, but I feel like there's something there. These ideas of laying down, of resting/dying, of a new start. Both of these sentiments have those ideas in them, but within different contexts. Augustine's speech is a desire for regrowth and healing and a new start, even if he and Mercy won't get to live in that new home where "flowers will die on necromancy's grave" (god i love that line). In contrast, the NtN poem and John's statement to Harrow is pondering a wiping clean, a starting over in a biblical flood sense. The idea of discarding a "first-draft dream." There's also the ambiguity of what this 'wiping clean' would do to John. Would it entail some form of cessation for him, and that's why he wouldn't be able to "touch them," or would he continue to exist (I feel like "I can start over" does sort of imply that he would continue to exist, as does the referencing the biblical flood, but idk. I also have to wonder how far this wiping clean would spread, and what exactly would it entail. Just the solar system? etc.)

The line "In the appointed hour I'll pull up your sheets. I'll kill the light, Lie down beside you; die, and sleep the night" also to me seems like it may be referencing very specifically what the wiping clean might entail. Which I suppose is the answer I've been working to for this question dfghj. Does "killing the light" mean that to do this wiping clean he would kill (or you know, re-kill) the sun? Would this wiping clean mean killing the sun, wiping out the nine houses, then lying down and 'dying' next to Alecto? Does "sleep the night" reference a permanent death/slumber, or something more temporary (just for "the night") etc. I am just asking questions, not answering them I know sdfghj. The start of the poem says the morning is "When everyone who fucked with me is dead. When everyone we loved has gone or fled." And he promises to wake Alecto when that has happened. Would this wiping clean accomplish that? A lot of this depends, I suppose, on if his wiping clean would just destroy the nine houses and not be a wider scale thing (his mentioning that he hasn't done it because "I can't bear the idea that I wouldn't be able to touch them—that they'd still be out there" implies a lack of totality in this wiping the slate. Although alternatively it could be taken to mean that his plan would involve some form of cessation on his part, which would thus mean he could no longer have the ability to "touch them"). Would John's desire be to wipe clean the state, then lie down next to Alecto and sleep/die? And if so, would this me permanent, or would this involve a waking down the line? And I mean then I am not even properly looking at the whole "self-preservation in a box" and "death of God" thing. I realize I have been real time ranting here about the specifics of this poem, but not getting into heavily considering those lines and what they mean for all of this. I have become entirely incoherent at this point I know, because there's just so much to think about here and so many ways to read that poem (and then of course the ending but referencing graves "less deep" and lies "less true" also brings in questions and various ways to read this all.

But ANYWAY, to try and return to the meat of your question vis a vis do John and Alecto have to die for the resurrection to happen, my unsatisfying answer is, I don't know. Aasdfgh. I am sorry, I know this turned into an incoherent and messy badly done literary analysis, and for that I DO apologize, but this question ended up bringing a TON of questions, ideas, and thoughts into my head (as you can I am sure tell by the fact that I went off on novel length semi-related tangents). I am sure I am likely at points doing some wonderfully clumsy misreadings or misinterpretations. Forgive me on this front, I'm very sleepy.

As a final note, this also just reminded me of conversations I've had with my partner where we discuss speculation about what John's final fate might be. I really don't see him being anything like some traditional final boss fight, that just seems both antithetical to his character, and also just not really fitting the narrative that Tamsyn Muir has been building here. Although what do I know? But yeah, I feel like John's end will be something tragic in a very Greek tragedy sense. Is this final tangent related to my above tangents? Loosely. This entire response is like seeing adhd going wild inr eal time (because that is in fact what it is).

ANYWAY, thank you SO MUCH for sending me this ask, and please please never think it's a bother for me to get these, I LOVE this sort of stuff. Hopefully my reply was, at the very least, interesting, even if it didn't do a particularly great job of answering your actual question

Anyway thank you for coming to my TED talk, and when I finally answer the other Jod ask in my mailbox, I am sure I will go on another wild spiral (I am rereading a Tamsyn Muir short story to answer that one, let nobody say that I don't commit).

[coruscantiscribbler]

My brain seems to have switched to creative overdrive…or I have gotten extremely inquisitive 🧐

This is a fair warning to my Artists, Authors, and all -around interesting people (because anyone who is not me is interesting) of Tumblr that The Asker’s Studio™️ is in session!

When last we met, I had intended to ask this set of questions, but the fates (and my keyboard) would NOT have it. We jumped tracks and went to Yularen, instead. (Not a bad thing ❤️)

While watching the new Andor series, I could not help but to think of you, and your fic, We Regret.

For those of you unfamiliar with this fabulous, Rebels (say what you will, that show brought us 6 more Thrawn books) based fic, it has all of our favourites: Kallus, Thrawn, Eli, Yularen, Pryce, Andor, and a host of interesting Original Characters.

A brief overview:

Follows Kallus as the very foundations of his life, and his most precious relationships are twisted and poisoned by his continued loyalty to the Empire. He finds it more and more difficult to silence the still small voice that wants him to question, to doubt but to go from blind loyalty to betrayal is a journey that is neither easy nor quick.

As anyone who is familiar with Rebels knows, Kallus eventually defects from the Empire and joins the Rebellion.

While the series did not include the character of Cassian Andor, you have done us all a favour and corrected this wrong. Andor plays his own pivotal role in your fic.

The questions that were pummeling me as I was watching the series were fast and furious, so I will try to keep it to a low roar. However, as I always remind my guests: you have carte blanche to answer, deviate, expand…or go in a completely different direction from my presentation. All I ask is that you talk, and talk a lot.

The first group of queries concerns, Andor, himself.

When you started the series, was there any urge to edit, expand, or depart from how you presented Andor thus far?

Was there anything about the series/character presentation that you would have changed?

The second set of questions involves your fic as a whole

Was there any desire to change how you were going to present the Rebellion & Kallus’s experiences after viewing the series?

Finally, I am curious how set is the arc of We Regret, are you certain of how it ends and the journey in-between here to there (end)?

I ask this last question, because I have always wondered if authors wake up one morning and totally trash the outline, jump rails, and end up in a completely different place!

Once again, it is my honor and pleasure to take up some of your precious time. Thank you, kindly.

I love your Asks, they are always so insightful and force me to (try) and be equally insightful.

I'm going to start with the last question first. No, I never trash the outline and go haring off in a completely different direction. For me the value of outlining or "breaking a story" as is said in Hollywood, is that I have explored all the dead ends, or seemingly attractive paths that only lead you into a swamp well before I actually start writing. And I plot backwards. I know the end of a story or novel or script before I ever start writing. If I know where I'm going it's very easy to figure out the scenes that I need to get there.

I know exactly how I will end this story, several years after the restoration of the Republic, and I will give away this much -- it won't be on Lira San. As I've indicated elsewhere I could never buy the happily-ever-after ending for a man with this much blood on his hands.

Andor has had a profound impact on me, but only in so far as how it bolstered by own views about the Empire. I have always seen the rebellion as having a dark underbelly because you don't overthrow a government without making some ugly compromises with decency and morality, and Andor does not shy away from that. Neither did Rogue One. One of the first moments in which we see with Andor is him coldly killing an informant to keep him from falling into the hands of the Empire.

I'M GOING TO THROW OUT A FEW SPOILER HERE. SO IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ANDOR STOP READING NOW.

The two rebel leaders we see in ANDOR are Mon Mothma and Luthen and they both make some truly ugly decisions in support of the rebellion. Mon Mothma basically sells her teenage daughter to a crime boss so she can keep financing the rebellion. And Luthen in an act of cold calculation doesn't warn a fledgling rebel cell that the Empire is waiting for them because it would compromise his informant inside the ISB. Ugly choices forced on these individuals by the dark times in which they live. Of course the crimes and brutality of the Empire are far worse than the morally grey choices made by the rebels, but none of these people are saints.

I'm going to try to keep that balancing of the light and dark now that Kallus is in the rebellion. Draven is a hard man. He expects his agents to be hard as well, to know they must bury their morals because everyone on all sides thinks they are fighting for the greater good.

YOU CAN START READING AGAIN.

I knew before I ever started typing that it would be Andor who recruits Kallus into becoming a Fulcrum agent. But I didn't want it to be a straight line from crashing with Zeb on the ice moon, asking a few questions and then ringing up the rebellion to ask if he could help. A man as dedicated and loyal as Kallus wasn't just going to throw aside his life and beliefs that easily, so I took him to rock bottom, and had it be a single, simple event, the death of a single young pilot trainee, that was finally too much. The proverbial pebble that starts the avalanche.

I wouldn't change a thing about Andor. I think Gilroy did an absolutely stunning job with the character's development. We first see him as a small time crook, a man with no direction and no purpose. A string of petty crimes, mooching off his friends, sleeping with a variety of woman, committed to nothing. Then slowly, slowly he starts to discover outrage and finally his purpose. It's how I wanted to move Kallus from loyal Imperial officer to rebel spy.

The other point where I found support from Andor was the presentation of family. Throughout the movies the rebels all seemed to have either real or found families, but the Imperials were presented as just two dimensional bad guys. And the treatment of the stormtroopers always offended me. Who were these men and women in the white armor? Wouldn't they have had mother's fathers, siblings, wives, husbands and children? Someone would mourn their passing.

Andor showed us people on both sides of this conflict with families. There is the commandant of the garrison on Aldhani with his wife and teenage son. There is the lieutenant who turns traitor because of a woman. There is Syril and his domineering mother. Mon Mothma has a husband and a sulky teenage daughter. There is the ISB informant who wants out because of his new born child. And of course there is Maarva who saved and raised a child, and whether Cassian knew it or not instilled in him a thirst for justice.

[utilitycaster]

So firstly i feel like you do have some points about Laludna coming back and Vex but it feels to me (and I swear I'm not trying to be mean or anything) that you're kind of over looking a few things. First for laudna, imagine you had a bad friend whispering in your ear for years, they've done horrible things to you and others, but they still stick with you and one day they're just... gone. I thing Laudna's going to have a hard time and have to fight to recover in a way that going to force her to grow more independent.

As for Vex, if it was anyone else from the whitestone rebellion that was tied to Dehlila then i could see her being a bit OOC here. But Laudna was on the sun tree, something she clearly still sees as her fault, and it's not like she's advocating to just bring her back and Dehlila as well, she's saying what she always has "there has to be another way" and I think the reason she's looking so hard for that other way is that maybe she's thinking that she can fix one of the mistakes of her past as she see's it. IDK just some of the things matt said like "So were doing this" "we did this" and "if she's gone, gone gone" really felt like stuff vex would say.

of course everyone has thier own opinions this is just my two cents, I'm really looking forward to next weeks episode :)

Hi anon,

So this is not an attack, it's just me saying "these do not actually convince me at all; you have not really provided any argument, you've just shared your opinions anonymously."

Re: Laudna, the problem is that it's not addressing the many profound plot/build holes I've covered and it's asking me to again, extend credit to a character who's racked up nothing but a giant bill with no real payoff. If it helps: What does Laudna have to offer that a generic new character without the baggage of Campaign 1 and those plot holes and weirdness couldn't? Why should I care more about specifically having Laudna back instead of just having Marisha back at the table?

Re: Vex: why would she be so invested in finding another way? Why Laudna, when her own mother and brother remain dead, and her brother is explicitly dead due to a combination of a debt he entered for her own life, and Delilah Briarwood's actions? We're really in a she said/they said situation here. I'm saying "this does not feel like things Vex would say" and you're saying "this does feel like things Vex would say". Why does it feel like things Vex would say to you? Why wouldn't a more measured "look, I get that Percy was pretty brusque but he is fully justified in his hatred of Delilah, so I am leaving you with Pike to sort this out, and I will give Pike what she needs in terms of financial resources, but if Delilah comes back, well, Percy said what he said" not seem more in character? If it wouldn't, how would you describe how you understand Vex's character and how it might have developed over the past 30 years?

You don't need to answer these questions, to be clear, and you don't need to agree with me - but if you're interested in trying to convince me to agree with you, those are the questions to which I need clear answers (and even clear answers are no guarantee that I will agree).