#then I thought about something I've written about the value of others

[sflow-er]

I heard people are mad because they feel like August should be apologizing to Simon also, and I think that’s like, a no-brainer because of course he will – – he’s changed now. He’s not the same person who did that thing so – – we saw him suffer and now he apologized to Wille whom he knows and then – – I’m sure when [August and Simon] meet, he’s going to talk to [Simon] about it too. Linnéa Roxeheim, director of S3 eps 5& 6, PRP interview 59:00-59:22 (– – used for legibility, the redacted phrase is 'you know')

So...this kind of seems to confirm something I've been thinking since I watched the season: the lack of apology from August to Simon feels less like an intentional, character-defining writing choice and more like a mishap overlooking or even retconning the August-Simon conflict.

Some thoughts under the cut.

That conflict was one of the central building blocks and driving forces back in S1. Simon wouldn't have ended up selling drugs if it wasn't for August looking to buy, Wille wouldn't have found out about August's finances and been able to use them against him, and Alexander would not have been framed to save Simon. And for that matter, August's eagerness to pin the blame on Simon was likely fuelled by the fact that he wasn't just a sosse sleeping with Wille, but also a constant thorn in August's side. Someone who had even physically roughed August up at one point.

Still, I do believe August's decision to post the video mainly concerned Wille. I've written about that too many times to rehash it again; let's just take his dismissive reaction when Sara says Simon is distraught in S1E6 at face value. And that made perfect sense for his character, considering his only moral code at the time was (elite) loyalty.

However. From S2 on, the history between August and Simon has been sidelined, and the focus has been on the conflict between August and Wille.

We didn't see Simon suffer any more daily consequences from the video in S2. He could already sing karaoke in Bjärstad without people giving him dirty looks, and both the rumour mill at Hillerska and the hate comments online had stopped. Not being allowed to sing his song at the Jubilee was a concrete consequence, but even that felt more like an obstacle for Wilmon and an opportunity for Wille to stand up for them. Simon and August barely even interacted over the season - but at least Simon did refer to Sara knowing everything August had done to him in the gun range scene, so that was something.

I had hoped for the August-Simon conflict to be picked up again in S3. Even if the writers wanted to focus on other relationships and tensions, to me, it felt too essential to pass up. It would have been a clear sign of August learning the accountability and empathy that he needed to grow, and it would have also provided some much-needed closure for Simon (and tied the series together as a whole). I guess the writers felt differently.

Even though the focus on Simon getting hate on social media again could have provided an easy tie-in, the vile hate messages focused on his and Wille's relationship, as well as him being a POC. Apart from Linda's comment in the settlement negotiation, I don't think the video was even mentioned once in all the hate comments we saw. There was no indication of the media or the public having dragged it back up either (or asked who filmed and leaked it, but that's another matter entirely). Nor were there any references to Simon having already received some hate after the leak - on the contrary, it seemed like he was completely blindsided by all the vitriol. I do realise that the scale was much bigger this time around, but still.

Circling back to the August-Simon conflict, there's also another aspect that is easily overlooked. Namely, that Simon himself actually seemed pretty content to just put all his dealings with August to rest after the settlement was finalised. The only time the two of them even interacted after that was all about Sara. It could have also been an opportunity to show Simon's own feelings, but that didn't materialise.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure Simon could still use that apology, but I never got the impression that he needed it the way we fans needed to see it. Based on S3, you might even think their only source of conflict was Simon coincidentally being on the video, and when that was settled, Simon was okay just moving on with his life.

Which brings me back to the ending.

I always figured that August was portrayed as genuinely remorseful towards the end. Yes, I would have liked to see more of his growth and development (even just showing his reaction to the sale of Årnäs instead of having Simon say that Wille said it was a fitting punishment would've worked wonders)... But the authorial intent seemed to be that he had already taken enough steps. His and Wille's reconciliation was as sincere as anything could get, with Wille not forgiving him as such but agreeing to move on, start healing, and even wish each other well. Wille was sincere when he congratulated August upon graduation and tapped him as the next king, thinking he was well suited for the job (it's the narrative that frames it as a sort of punishment, not Wille).

Crucially, Simon doesn't seem bothered by this. If both Wille and August had truly just ignored the harm caused to Simon and reconciled amongst themselves, with Wille essentially giving August the position that everyone but August still thought was all August ever wanted...while Simon was still hurting and needing the closure of an apology...well. That would actually make Wille look like kind of a terrible partner even right at the end, which clearly wasn't the intention.

We can't be sure if Wille told Simon about the reconciliation when they talked at the lake, but Simon will still know that Wille stepping down means August stepping up, and he is happy about it. Wilmon are off to start a new chapter in their lives, and we don't get the feeling that the lack of an apology to Simon is left as an unresolved issue between them (or between them and August).

So...yeah. I guess I'm just trying to point out that this seems to be another example of a previously important plot line being dropped from S3, and to a lesser degree, also another example of execution vs. authorial intent.

[dduane]

Hello.

I've seen you posting detailed information about the WGA strike and wondered if you had any suggestions as to how those of us not directly involved can show our support for the Union?

Okay, bearing in mind that all this is entirely subjective at the moment (and so far lacking any more useful input from other sources): a few thoughts.

This will be my third WGA strike. (My first one was in 1988, just after I'd made my first live action sale—s1e6 of ST:TNG). And the thought keeps occurring to me at the moment that this time out, there's a potentially gamechanging player on the field that wasn't there before: truly pervasive social media.

(Adding a cut here, because this goes on a bit...)

In 2007, social media as we now understand it was still in its cradle. Now, though, those of us who're striking can make our voices much more widely heard. And so can those of us who're not, but just want to show solidarity. Last time, the AMPTP was able to do pretty much what it wanted without the public noticing or having even a medium-profile way to make their feelings known. But this time? Not so much.

So as an otherwise uninvolved person who wants to show solidarity, I'd start with something seemingly low-value. If I was on Twitter, I'd start routinely tweeting about the strike and my support for it—not obsessively, just persistently, a couple/few times a week—using the Twitter hashtags that are gaining ground even now, such as #DoTheWriteThing (and of course #WGAStrike). I would make sure I was following @WGAEast and @WGAWest, to keep an eye on what's going on.

Additionally: I would start politely, but repeatedly—again, maybe once or twice a week at least, and not stopping—tweeting the various major players in the AMPTP, especially the streamers: Amazon, Netflix, Hulu et al. I would start suggesting that their current attitude toward the WGA's contract negotiations is not only unrealistic but potentially (for the AMPTP) bad for business. (And self-destructive, too, as if this goes on much longer in this vein, they'll be seemingly eagerly casting themselves as The Baddies.) I would suggest that their bad behavior, if not amended by them coming to the table to bargain in good faith, might start affecting both my interest in their shows and my willingness to keep paying unreasonable people for access to them.

I should emphasize here that so far there've been no formal calls from anyone for boycotts or subscription cancellations. For the moment, this strikes me as wise. The point for WGA-friendly observers, right now, would be to keep what's happening to the writers visible: to keep bringing it up: to refuse to allow it to be swept under the rug. The "They only want two cents on the dollar!" angle seems potentially useful the more it's repeated. The point is to keep the repetition going: to make it plain, day after day, that the other side's being not just unreasonable, but greedy. Day after day, and week after week, and (if necessary: please Thoth may it not be...) month after month.

And tweeting is hardly all that can be done. Email is cheap and easy. But actual letters, written on actual paper and mailed, can still create a surprising amount of attention in a corporate office. (The saying in TV used to be that for every person who actually writes in about an issue, there are ten, or a hundred, who feel the same way but never got around to it.) Write letters to all the AMPTP members' CEOs, and make your feelings on the WGA's core demands politely plain. ...Especially when those CEOs collectively made almost three-quarters of a billion-with-a-B dollars in salaries last year, when many of the writers working on their shows can't afford rent.

After that: here's another thought, a little more physical. If by chance you're in an area where one or the other of the Guilds are picketing: turn out and support them! Honk when you pass: and if you're interested, show up and offer to walk the picket lines with them. These things get noticed. (In 2007 a bunch of us, both Guild members and non-, caused significant astonishment by turning out to picket AMPTP members' offices in Dublin.)

...Obviously not all that many people are going to be positioned, in terms of location or their own work and time commitments, to show up physically. But online? Find ways to keep this issue visible. The AMPTP wants this to go quiet, wants people to get bored with it, wants people to find reasons to blame the writers. They've tried spinning the story that way before. Don't let them pull that shit. Find ways to back those who're calling them on that, publicly. They do respond to this kind of thing (though they may strenuously deny it). If enough attention continues to be paid by the general public, they will blink—if sometimes excruciatingly slowly, as Disney began to blink over the dispute tagged #DisneyMustPay.

As viewers, and as viewers who pay for subscriptions to things, we far outnumber them. Help be a part of making the AMPTP understand that this quest for a truly fair deal is not going to go away. And the longer they try to act like the Guild's negotiation positions are beneath their notice, the more it's going to hurt them, and the stupider and greedier it's going to make them look.

...That's all I've got for the moment, as I need some lunch. :) ...But I hope this has helped. And thanks for your concern, and your desire to stand in solidarity with us! It's so welcome. :)

ETA: here's a link to the Guild's social media toolkit, for those who'd like to change PFPs or icons, etc., to show their support.

[flanaganfilm]

Good day Mr Flanagan. please what does "the rest is confetti" mean to you and in the context it was used in hill house??

Okay, here we go. Buckle up for a long read.

To answer this, I've got to explain a little bit about what was happening and where I was when I sat down to write episode 10 of The Haunting of Hill House.

Hill House was not a fun shoot. The picture above is from very early in production, when I was still chubby and happy.

It was my first foray into television. I was absolutely terrified that I'd mess it up. So I'd opted to direct all of the episodes myself, figuring that - if nothing else - I'd have no one else to blame if it went south.

It was the most grueling professional experience of my career. The shoot was by no means a smooth one, every day was an uphill battle from a budgetary perspective, and between the three giant production entities involved with the production, I spent a lot of time fighting over the creative and logistical elements of the series.

I began losing weight. I was smoking two packs of cigarettes a day.

By the end of the shoot, I had dropped almost 40 lbs.

I was very depressed. Every day was a battle, and for the first time in my career, I wasn't excited to go to work in the morning. We were fighting for basic resources, fighting for the show we wanted, and even fighting amongst ourselves by the end. It was grueling.

We hadn't written all of the scripts when we started production. I believe we had finished through episode 7, but the rest of the scripts had to be finished while we were already shooting.

We'd mapped everything out in the writers room, and I had great support on the other episodes, but I was writing the finale solo. I'd thought I'd be able to juggle it with everything else. I quickly fell behind.

I finally got to the script about halfway through production. I'd work on it between takes at the monitor, and then get home to our tiny rental house in Atlanta, where Kate was waiting with our baby son. (One of the rare bright spots of this shoot came when Kate found out she was pregnant about halfway through production. We even named our daughter Theodora, in honor of her origins.)

I'd typically fall down from exhaustion when I got home, but I had to push through it and work on the script. My weekends were spent shotlisting and prepping for upcoming episodes. We didn't have enough time to stay ahead of prep, so every available day was used for that... I went three months without a single day off at one point.

I'd sit up late staring at the script. I was in a dark, dark place. Overwhelmed, exhausted, and feeling like I lived in an eternal present. Each day bled into the next and it didn't feel like there was an end in sight. That feeling of unreality was heightened because we kept returning to the same sets, same locations, and even the same scenes throughout the 100 shooting-day production. Stepping back into the exact room we had shot in days or weeks or even months ago made the whole thing feel absolutely surreal. Making movies is always an non-linear experience, but this one felt particularly so... it was like the days of our lives were happening to us all out of order.

I remember feeling something like despair creeping into my daily experience on the show. And I remember dwelling on that when I got into the scene work of episode 10.

As I worked through the draft, I recall that despair coloring a lot of what was on the page. My filter was breaking down. There's a monologue at the beginning of the episode where Steven's wife Leigh (played by my dear friend Samantha Sloyan) spews out a torrent of eviscerating insults about Steve's value as a writer. That is just me vomiting onto myself. She was voicing all of my deepest insecurities about myself at the time, and of what I was doing with this series.

She says "Is anything real before you write it, Steve? The things you write about, they're real. Those people are real, their feelings are real, their pain is real - but not to you, is it. Not until you chew it up, digest it, and shit it out onto a piece of paper and even then, it's a pale imitation at best."

This was the mindset I was in for a lot of the shoot. The writing became a reflection of a lot of that turmoil, and I knew who I was referring to in that monologue - I was talking about my family. I was talking about how much of their lives I'd used as building material for this show. I was talking about the fact that I'd lost two loved ones to suicide, and seen what it had done to my mother in particular. And I knew I was using - possibly even exploiting - those people for this series.

There's a lot of despair in this episode. The Red Room, as we conceived it, was a place that would feed upon those emotions. Grief, sadness, loss... those were the real ghosts of our series, and where our characters find themselves at the start of the finale. They're being slowly digested - eaten alive - by those feelings.

So finally, it came time to write Nell's final scene with her siblings. I knew from the outline we'd constructed in the writers room what this was supposed to accomplish - she was supposed to be their salvation. She was supposed to take all of these feelings that we'd been wrestling with and finally provide catharsis... finally say something that would free everyone.

I remember sitting with a blinking cursor for a long time. The Crain siblings had just turned and seen Nellie standing by the door, and suddenly were able to hear her speak. But what should she say? What would I say? What would I want someone to say to me?

What she ultimately says lays bare a lot of what I was thinking about when it comes to grief. It exists outside of linear time, much as I felt I existed at the time. That sense of eternal present, that sense of a nonlinear eternity of moments and memories - it all came out in her speech to her brothers and sisters.

I remember feeling, looking at my insane present and looking back at my past, how strangely overwhelmed I was by memories. That I wasn't experiencing time in a straight line, and hadn't been for a while - for the better part of a year, I'd felt more like I was standing in a whirlwind of moments. "Our moments fall around us like..." Nell said, and I recall sitting back and trying to find the words.

"Rain," for certain, but there was something too uniform about that. The moments of life as I experienced them weren't that orderly, they weren't that small. They didn't fall the same way. Some sailed by, fast and unremarkable, while others lingered in front of me, twisting and stretching. So it was a good word, but not the right word. I left it on the page though.

"Snow" was my next attempt. Better, in that I imagined the snow blowing in the wind, swirling and dancing and feeling more organic. More chaotic. More like life. But for some reason, the word that stuck with me, the word I felt Nell Crain would connect with was...

"Confetti."

And that was because I was thinking not of Victoria Pedretti at this point, but of Violet McGraw.

Violet played Young Nell, and I wondered what she might have said if she experienced time this way. As an adult, Nell was despairing. Nell was overwhelmed. But as a child... there was an innocence to the word. There was a joy to the word.

I imagined moments falling around her, this little girl with the big smile and the wide eyes. Her moments would be colorful. They would be of different shapes and sizes, some falling fast and some falling slow, flipping and turning and dancing in the air, independent of the others. Sparkling, whirling, doing lazy summersaults as they sauntered down to Earth.

I thought of myself, and of the members of my family. I thought of those we'd lost. I realized what I hoped for them, and for us all, in the end... was to look upon that mosaic of experience, that avalanche of days and minutes and moments... and to smile with some of the joy we had as children.

And this, I thought, was something that gave me hope. This gave me a glimpse of some kind of salvation for them. This was also how I hoped my life might seem if I was a ghost - a cascade of color and light and shape and movement, something I could dance in.

So Nell smiled and said... "or confetti."

It stuck with me. The rest of her monologue gets heavy again, and gets to the real point of the show - the point of the whole series, if I'm honest - and that's forgiveness.

I figured the only thing that would let the Crain children out of the Red Room was to be forgiven. I thought of the losses in my own family, and I thought of what I wished for my mother and for my aunts and uncles and cousins and I tried to pour that into her final words.

"I loved you completely, and you loved me the same," she said, "that's all." And this was the point I wanted the most to make. That at the end of our life, if we can say this about each other, the rest doesn't matter. The rest is that rainstorm, or that blizzard, that fell around this one central truth, and maybe built itself in piles around it, to the point we lost sight of it along the way.

And I thought again of that little girl, and almost as an afterthought, wrote "The rest is confetti."

I liked the way it sounded, but I was insecure about the line. I almost took it out, in fact. I remember asking Kate to read the scene and talking about that last line with her. "Is it too cute?" I wondered. She was on the fence. "Depends on how it's acted," she said, and I figured she was right. We could always take it out if it didn't work. The scene could end with "I loved you completely, and you loved me the same. That's all."

Why not shoot it and see what happened.

I turned in the script, we published it quickly so that we could start breaking it down and prepping it. And the next morning I was back on set. I'd deal with episode 10 when it came down the pipe again, sometime in the coming months. We had a lot of shooting to get through before I had to worry about it.

I recall Netflix asking me to cut a lot of that monologue, and I remember them also having questions about the "confetti" line. I pointed out that it didn't cost us any extra to shoot it all, it was only words, and fought to keep the script intact.

Ultimately, they insisted I make a series of cuts on the page. I begrudgingly agreed, but left Nell's speech alone. I made superficial cuts around it, throughout the draft, and even considered changing the font size to fool them into thinking it had gotten shorter (I ultimately was told I wouldn't fool anyone and not to risk starting a war). But Nellie's final goodbye stayed intact.

It must be said - Victoria Pedretti SLAUGHTERED this scene.

By the time we got around to filming it, things had never been worse for the production. There was almost nothing left for a lot of us. Tensions were sky-high, resources had been exhausted completely, and we were all ready to give up.

Filming in the mold-ridden Red Room was depressing, morose, and led to a lot of arguments and unpleasantness. The room itself just felt gross, always, and we were in there for days at a time. The last thing we had to shoot in there was Nellie's goodbye.

Victoria came to set having to push through pages of monologue, and she did so with captivating bravado. I recall being teary-eyed at the monitor watching her work. And when we finally made it to the last line, I watched her deliver it with... a smile. A sincere, innocent, longing, joyful smile. A smile informed by the sadness, grief, and loss of her own situation, of her own life... but a smile that finds forgiveness and grace after all. Pedretti knew how to say the line, and how that word would work.

And as she said it, I knew it would stay in the show.

Over the years, that sentence has become something of a tagline for The Haunting of Hill House. I'm always a bit mystified and touched when I see people approach me with the line on T-shirts, or even tattooed on their bodies.

I started signing it with autographs back in 2020 after enough fans asked me to. Now it's my go-to when I sign anything related to Hill House.

The line, for me, represents a lot of things.

It's about the insane, chaotic, non-linear experience of making that show. It's about trying to find and hold onto joy, even in the grips of despair.

It's about the way the moments of our lives aren't linear, not really, and how we may be unable to understand them as we exist in their flurry. It's about finding hope, innocence and forgiveness in the final reckoning.

And it's about how, outside of our love for each other, the rest is just... well, it's fleeting. It's colorful. It's overwhelming. It's blinding. It's dancing. And, if we look at it right, it's beautiful. But it's also light. It's tinsel. It flits and dances and falls and fades, it's as light as air.

The rest is the stuff that falls around us, and flits away into nothing.

It's the love that stays.

[comicaurora]

I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!

Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"

I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.

To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.

But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!

I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.

[headspace-hotel]

I've been able to neither read nor write stories in a long time. Poetry too, for the most part. I guess what I mean is that the art of the written word has become a stranger to me.

I hate what poetry classes did to my writing. Yes, the Wikipedia poems, but they are easier because they're not my own words, and I have gotten so many comments on those saying they are powerful pieces of art, but for me personally they're a way of hiding from the awfulness of trying to assemble my own words into poetry.

I hate the poems I wrote in poetry classes. I hate the version of me I showed others in those classes. I hate the way poetry classes taught me to draw from my own experiences and thoughts for poetry. I hate everything I learned about how to interpret poetry, the eye with which I learned to read poetry, and the vocabulary I learned to talk about poetry, and ultimately, I hate "literary" poetry.

"Literary," by the way, is the category of art that has more meaning, value and legitimacy than the "other" category, which is not "literary." A "literary" poem is published in special, fancy "literary" magazines and almost invariably written by a person with a MFA or PhD in poetry.

You could say that the distinguishing feature of "literary" art is its overwhelming sense of legitimacy. A "literary" poem is a poem in the same way that a nonprofit organization is charitable, that a CEO is rich, or that an SAT score demonstrates your academic prowess. It is a poem completely immune to the possibility that someone will think it sucks. It expects to be absorbed, analyzed, studied, and discoursed upon because something feels "official" about whatever designates it as Good Art.

Literary poems are not only written by and for a special subset of people that have been formally taught to read and interpret poetry, they are written exclusively for audiences that will automatically assume they are Good Art; beautiful, meaningful, and worth interpreting. Because of this, most literary poems are literal incomprehensible nonsense.

Just take this one:

Say I climb the ladder of wheat/and at the top there is a faucet dripping beads of water/but the water takes a year to turn into an eagle/and the sky's forty-three shades of gray pierce/the first inflection of my heart, the point where the signals/throw grass into the river. Say the river sags/and the horizon sucks the lance out of the ghost's hands/like the moment of being born, the point where a shadow's/tongue slides through the faultline./Grace. Sunlight, cherries.

(it continues like this)

And conceptually, I love art as collaboration between the creator and viewer, where abstract, indeterminate and murky things are forced to take shape through the participation of the viewer as they interpret and associate things that stand out to them in the work! The "aliveness" of art in the abyss between what the artist attempts to communicate and what the viewer feels is the coolest thing to me!

But this philosophy of art is incompatible with the idea that there is an elite category of art that is worthy of interpretation, analysis, and reverence. I can fuck around with this random word generator and get something that is roughly as meaningful as the above. I don't mean that as demeaning to the poem, I mean that I feel demeaned by the poem, because its linguistic play and experimentation is something that everybody can do, that everyone should try doing, but this poem has been designated as something exceptionally meaningful and worthy and its writer teaches writing at the University of Chicago. You can click through that website for hours and not find a single soul without a MFA or above in poetry or creative writing.

For me, the world of "literary" writing was like a room with a splatter of vomit across the floor that no one else would acknowledge. The ability to formally study poetry in college was a privilege, but I was constantly aware of privilege, and the thing about privilege is the more you have, the less you think about it. What of the ability to pursue a PhD in poetry? What small fraction of people could expend so much time and money on something that didn't really have a career associated with it? And of that fraction, which fraction would be seen as "good enough" to publish poetry books and to teach? With poetry this indeterminate, how were the "good" poets selected at all?

Literary writing excludes poor people, and the existence of published literary poets who are immigrants or minorities doesn't negate this. Increasingly, published writing in general excludes poor people. A LOT of popular authors graduated from very elite schools!

But literary poetry I hate especially, because it puffs itself up on unlocking the universe and human experience and pain, as if insight into those things is a seldom-appearing gift instead of something many people have, except they don't have the time and money to train themselves into expressing it in a way that appears Literary.

The "literary" vs. "non-literary" paradigm had an inescapable rottenness to it. I couldn't stop thinking about the luminous conversations I'd had with people who lacked the formal training to express ideas in a "literary" manner, but still showed me something vital about the universe.

I've been bitching about literary poetry for like two years now, and really, I just hate what studying all that shit has done to my own writing style. It's so frustrating that the joy and playfulness won't come back.

[g3tosugu]

can’t get enough

wriothesley x f!reader

wc: 1.7k

cw: reader is neglecting their health, fainting and i think that's it, but please do tell me if i missed one!

synopsis: you pick up an extra shift at Cafe Lutece but, it proves to be too much on your body as you continue neglecting your needs and Wriothesley is there to figure out why.

a/n: eeek! first post hope u like it :3c i've never written genshin stuff before which is why this is kinda short lol so please forgive me if it's not that good!!

Picking up another shift at Cafe Lutece whilst you were in the middle of prepping and training to begin work at the Fortress of Meropide was probably not the best decision you have ever made in your life. You could have easily quit your job or asked for more leniency with your scheduling and Arouet would surely understand if you explained the situation you were in. The only issue with that was you didn't want to also put him in the tight spot of having to find a replacement, especially since the Cafe was already short staffed at the current time. And now, you have decided to overwork yourself more.

The place was absolutely jam packed with people. There was a pretty intensive trial that was held today and the people who attended were starving and eager to chat about the turnout of the trial over a meal. You're not sure why you set yourself up for disappointment when you convinced yourself it wouldn't be too busy because of the rain. Instead of being a nice regular 8 hour shift, you instead were met with a very busy and never ending 10 hour shift. When you arrived an hour earlier to the Cafe today you had no idea that extra hour of leisure time was going to be something that was so vital. Too late now. You finish your shift as efficiently as you possibly could with what little energy you had left in your system.

As you exited the building, you were met by Arouet who had been out saying his farewells to the final customers of the evening. "Thank you so much again for all your help today Y/n! I really don't know what I would have done without you" he thanked you with a warm smile. You tried your best to muster a more enthusiastic response, but all you could bring yourself to do is give him a tired smile and say "Don't worry about it, boss. It's my pleasure to help you as you have helped me by giving me this job".

When you moved to Fontaine from your home of Monstadt you didn't have anything. Sure, you had your bag you had packed with things of sentimental value and some clothing but, that was it. You couldn't even bring mora with you because you had none to your name due to never having to work back in Monstadt. Your family had always taken care of you. So when you were telling them about you moving so far away, they tried to give you basic starter funds but you declined. You even lied and told them you had some mora saved from doing favors and chores for other people (usually older people) just so they wouldn't worry further. With your lack of job experience and no funds or place to go, Arouet saw how determined you were to make the most out of your situation and decided to give you a job as a waitress.

Arouet studied your face for a moment before giving a sympathetic smile. "You look like you could use a nice relaxing evening and you deserve it. Go home and be safe and please take the day off tomorrow" he gently patted your shoulder. The sudden contact and thought that you get a whole day off the next day made you perk up a little more, "Oh, thank you so much, boss! I will and same to you as well, of course. I just have somewhere to stop and then I will go home for the night".

The first few times you entered the Fortress of Meropide it was a very nerve wracking experience. You had no idea if it was a rowdy and rugged environment or a serious and strict one. But, you soon realized it wasn't as horrific and terrible as you initially thought it would be. Regardless, it was still to be considered a dangerous environment. Thankfully, with Wriothesley around, you never felt like you needed to worry.

As the guards walked you up to the large metal doors to the Duke's office, you heard a familiar voice call out to you from the cafeteria area. "Y/n! Wait!" she ran up to you enthusiastically. "Hello Sigewinne" you patted the half Melusine girl on the head and smiled at her. "What are you doing here? I didn't think you were stopping by since you seemed to be working late" she smiled up at you, but everything started to feel fuzzy. Your eyelids became harder to keep open, your vision was going in and out of focus and you started seeing spots. "Y/n?" Sigewinne called out to you, worried by your lack of response and the way you were looking physically. Before you could give her the reassurance you so desperately wanted to, you collapsed to the ground.

"Y/n! Oh no..." Sigewinne quickly walked to your side and began trying to rouse you awake. The guards that were with you quickly clamored around you to protect you from any onlookers. In the midst of the sudden event, the loud metal doors to the Dukes office opened and out came Wriothesley. "What's all the commotion out here about?", his eyes searched for just a split second before they landed on Sigewinne standing over your unconscious form with a very troubled look on her face. "Everyone move" Wriothesley ordered the guards and they immediately met his demand in return. He quickly knelt down and picked you up bridal style and started carrying you towards his office. "Wait! We need to take her to the infirmary so I can perform a proper check up!" Sigewinne tried to stop him. "You can treat her in here can't you? I don't want her out here. I want to be able to keep an eye on her" his gaze was serious and his jaw was set. He was clearly fully intent on doing this, so Sigewinne just sighed and nodded in response as she followed him into his office.

Your eyes fluttered open and you searched around your environment to try and decipher where you had ended up. Wriothesley's office. "You're awake?" you heard Wriothesley rise from his chair and walk around his desk. You slowly began to sit up and when your eyes met his, you looked away in embarrassment. You knew Sigewinne checked your condition and told him you were neglecting your needs. You had hardly eaten and you weren't sleeping a full night's rest for the past week. His eyes said it all to you. He was disappointed.

After a moment of you avoiding looking at him while also feeling his own gaze piercing right through you, you sighed. "You're disappointed in me" you looked down at your hands in your lap. "Disappointed?" his face had confusion present on it but, you fail to see it as you are still too afraid to look him in the eyes. "Oh no, I've probably frightened Sigewinne terribly, I should go show her I'm alright" you try to quickly excuse yourself from the situation. "I don't think so" Wriothesley firmly but gently grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him so he could swiftly lift you onto his desk, his palms planted firmly on the desk at your sides, effectively caging you in. You're still looking away from him. "Come on sweetheart, look at me. Please?" his voice soft in a way to show you that he isn't upset with you.

You slowly raised your head and finally met his eyes. He looked at you in a way that made you feel like you were the answer to all problems in the world. Like you were something precious and sacred. "There she is" he smiled warmly. The smile you gave in response wasn't one the same warmth in return, it was an apologetic one. "You've been overworking yourself, haven't you?" he tried to coax you to explain yourself. You nodded, "I took an extra shift at Cafe Lutece today while I've been prepping to become a nurse here". "Oh? You're going to be working here? How was I not made aware of this?" he asked as he finally moved away from you to fold his arms across his chest.

The guilty expression on your face made him let out a soft, "Y/n...". "I told Monsieur Neuvillette to keep it a secret because I was afraid you wouldn't allow me to pursue it" you admitted. "I see" he nodded and sighed. "Well, I just want to say first and foremost" he moved toward you again and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head, "I'm not disappointed in you. Not for what happened today or for keeping this secret from me" he reassured. "I also want you to know that you can do whatever you want. I don't ever want you to consider my own thoughts if you are going to put them above your own. At that point my feelings don't entirely matter do they? You are free to do as you please" he gently lifted your chin with his hand so you could look at him again.

"Besides, you act like I wouldn't want to see this gorgeous face everytime I come into work" he grinned as he removed his hand from your chin. You smiled the first genuine happy smile all day. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you want to be a nurse down here?" he asked as he took your hand in his to help you steadily hop down from his desk. "Well, I would love to work with Sigewinne of course. You know I adore her and I know she could teach me a lot of things. Her point of view in life is always so fascinating and wonderful to me as well" you went on to explain. As you went on, Wriothesley just had the most lovesick expression plastered on his face and you made note of it. "And don't act like I don't want to see your gorgeous face everyday when I come to work" you use his own words on him with a grin. He chuckled and shook his head "You're a very dangerous woman". "Hmm, maybe I've just been around you too much" you joke. Instead of laughing in response with you, he pulled you against him by your waist. "I don't know about you, but you could never be around me too much" his eyes studied every detail of your face, "No, matter of fact. I can't get enough of you sweetheart".

[reidspharb]

The Moment I Knew

*Part two

Summary: Spencer misses your 25th birthday and that’s when you realize your relationship can’t be fixed.

Word count: 800 or something idk ICBA shes a short one

Warnings: angst, Reid is a shitty boyfriend in this one

Note: hi this was written at 3 am and I’m new to writing so if this sucks sorry anyways but I got this idea from Taylor Swifts song by the Same name and I thought I would write it so yeah enjoy

Sure, you were so happy all your friends were there and everyone was having a good time… but you couldn’t help but think about Spence.

It was 10 pm, the party started at 8 and he still wasn’t there like he promised. You couldn’t help but think about him coming through the door right now, gifts in hand as he did on your last birthday with that baby I’m right here smile.

You knew he couldn’t be here, and you knew how much he valued his work, but, he wasn’t even on a case far away… he was here, in Virginia, and he couldn’t even call to wish you a happy birthday.

Your eyes were locked on the door most of the time as you socialized. People asked about him, about your relationship, and the most you could give them was a sad smile and a dishonest word about how great everything was going.

“So how have you been,” your friend Sarah said as she laughed and took a sip of her drink “I mean I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

you plastered on the brightest fake smile you could and mustered up an answer just normal enough to get you by.

“I've been okay, you know, with work and everything.”

All you could think about was him, how he said he would be there. He told you- no he promised you weeks in advance that he would be here. But he’s not.

You felt stupid, standing there all dolled up in your tight black dress and red lipstick. You thought maybe if you dressed up nice he would make sure to be there, but then again, there you were with no one to impress.

You knew it was hopeless, there you were on your birthday staring at the door and watching the clock tick as everyone around you danced and laughed. You looked around the room, trying to spot him in the crowd but who were you fooling, you knew he wasn’t there.

As you listened to your loved ones sing happy birthday around you, you could only hear his voice in your memory. When you blew out those candles your only wish was for him to be there with you. You should’ve been so happy, but he was the one thing missing.

Then it was 1 am, and you were barely tipsy. you already had a nervous stomach, you knew drinking would only make it worse. By now you were sick of everyone being around you, you just wanted to be alone. You stumbled to the bathroom over some discarded red cups and locked yourself in there, tears burning at your eyes when you saw yourself in the mirror.

You did your makeup the way he liked it too so that if you sent pictures he really wouldn’t miss it, such a naive thing to think you told yourself. You heard a knock on your door and there were your two best friends, Tegan and Oliver, mixed with the emotions of seeing them staring at you with so much pity in their eyes and Spencer being away made you break down.

Tegan held you as you sobbed, mascara dripping down your cheeks with every tear.

“He said- he said he would be here…”

“I'm so sorry, love bug, I wish I could grab him and rip him into pieces. You deserve so much better.” Said Oliver, holding your cold hands.

You felt so embarrassed, sitting there in front of your friends crying about some stupid boy. But he was the one who meant the most to you and he wasn’t there.

The next morning you woke up on your couch, head pounding. Your apartment was trashed, there were plastic cups scattered all over the room. As you stepped over them to get ready for the day, you felt a sharp pain in your chest as you heard Spencer’s familiar ringtone playing from your phone.

“Hey doll, it’s me” he sighed on the other line of the phone.

“Hi, Spencer.” You mumbled. You knew it would hurt to say his whole name instead of the nickname you’d been calling him since the day you met him.

“I'm so sorry I didn’t make it babe I was caught up in paperwork and I lost tra-“ you interrupted his rambling, you didn’t care anymore.

“It’s fine. I’ll talk to you later Spencer.” You hissed into the phone before hitting the red button on the screen and setting your phone back down on the counter.

That was the moment you knew.

That was the moment you knew that this would never work out.

[roses-for-rosalyn]

Are You Sure Miss?

Abby x reader

minirs dni (I will hunt u down)

This is strongly inspired by this audio by Jupiter X. Please please go visit her reddit and twitter she's literally so amazing. I really enjoyed writing this, it's probably my favorite thing I've ever written.

summary: the farmers daughter becomes infatuated with the farm hand

word count: 5.3k

content warnings: southern fem! reader, southern abby, mentions of masterbation, kissing, neck kissing, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), use of strap on, mirror sex, teasing, mild orgasm denial, Abby moaning hehe, no use of y/n, Abby being big and strong

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The farmer's daughter in love with the farm hand. What a fucking cliché. Any sensible woman would have the dignity to at least pretend they weren’t infatuated, to allow themselves a denial of their feelings. You’re honestly not sure how much you valued your dignity at this point. 

Your father had hired her about two months ago. You usually walked the grounds every day to pass the time, you enjoyed the fresh air and it gave you an excuse to get out of the house. your father thought you too fragile to do anything besides shopping, walking or occasionally traveling. As a result your life was painfully mundane…until she showed up. The first day she was on the job you were out on one of your usual, painfully boring walks when you noticed someone new was working with the other farm hands. She stood out as she was working a job that was mostly reserved for men. She was stacking hay bales, tossing them with ease. you observed the way her strong arms strained against the fabric of her shirt and couldn't help but imagine how easily she could sweep you off your feet. You were just close enough where you could discern the sweat on her brow, her blonde hair sticking to her forehead. Her chest heaved with effort as she threw the bales of hay as if they were made of feathers. You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t realized you stopped in your tracks to watch her. You continued walking and swore to yourself you would keep a distance. No reason to make a fuss and cause your father to lose a perfectly good farmhand. Maybe even the best farmhand he’d ever had, she was stronger than any man he'd ever hired. 

Eventually you learned her name: Abby. Even learning something that small made everything worse. 

Now you had a name to whimper as you ground into your pillow at night, imagining it was one of her strong thighs. Every day since you’d dreamt of her using her strength to fuck you senseless, you imagined how she’d wrap her muscular arms around your thighs to hold you in place while she assaulted your clit with her tongue. You were getting desperate, every time you went on one of your walks your panties grew soaked just watching her work. 

One day you worked up the courage to ask her a favor.  

“Abby,” you called out to her “do ya mind helping me with something?” You asked, purposefully making your southern accent extra thick and sweet. The words came out smooth as honey causing Abby to turn her head in surprise. She had never heard you speak before and she decided right then and there she could listen to you talk for hours. You usually used that voice to get men to help you with things, but you had a feeling she could help you more than any man could. 

She nodded and jogged over “What do ya need miss?” God her voice was perfect,  a faint southern lilt dripping off each word as she spoke. 

This was the first time you had gotten close to her, you realized how far she towered over you. She was intimidating in every sense of the word. You could make out the freckles that dotted across her nose and spilled onto her cheeks. Her blue eyes were mesmerizing against her fair skin. The sun filtered through her blonde hair creating a soft glowing halo around her head. 

“You alright miss?” You hadn’t even realized you were staring, she was looking at you with a mild concern, her head slightly tilted. 

“Yes ’m fine,” You took a breath and looked down to escape her intense gaze. “The heat must be gettin’ to me, that’s all.” You let out a soft laugh and summoned the strength to look back up at her. “Can you just help me get these groceries inside? Normally I’d do it myself, but it’s just so darn hot today n’ some of these bags are pretty heavy.” You definitely could have carried them in yourself, but where’s the fun in that? You just wanted an excuse to get close to her, that's all. 

“Whatever ya need miss.”  She grinned and walked past you to grab the groceries out of the truck bed. You couldn’t help but ogle for a moment at her strength. Her muscles flexed as she added bag after bag to her arms. She grabbed every single one of the bags in one trip, you only had to retrieve your purse from the passenger’s side of the truck. You ran ahead to open the door for her, since she had her hands full.

“Thanks.” She turned her head, smiled and nodded at you in appreciation. You smiled back, looking up at Abby with wide doe eyes that practically made her melt. You followed her inside and watched her gently place the groceries on the table as you put your purse down next to them. 

Abby turned to you and asked “Need anything else from me miss?” She was secretly hoping you had a laundry list of chores for her just so she could spend some more time with you. You had her wrapped around your finger in mere moments with your soft frilly dresses and your sickly sweet voice. 

“Not at the moment, but you best bet I’ll be asking you for help more often after this.” You smiled sheepishly at her, attempting to play into your role as the helpless farmer’s daughter. You had a feeling it was working with the way she was looking down at you like you were edible. If Abby had her way at that moment she would have whisked you away upstairs and devoured you until your sweet moans deafened her.  

“I’m here for whatever you need, miss.” She smirked and nodded before turning away and going back to work. 

You thought about that small interaction the rest of the day, it didn’t help that you now knew what she sounded like. She took over your every waking thought. You thought you would be able to control yourself better the less you knew about her because now every new detail you learned made you grow more and more desperate for her. 

Abby wasn’t much better. She would daydream about you while she was working which almost caused multiple accidents. She was dropping things, forgetting her strength and getting distracted when she needed to focus. She couldn’t get you out of her mind, she went home that night and made herself come on her own fingers, imagining your sweet little moans escaping your lips as she fucked you. She could never give into her desires though, you were too perfect, too fragile. She wasn’t good enough for you. No one was. 

She was infatuated with you from her first day on the farm. You slowly strolled by in a pale blue dress covered in pretty little ruffles and all Abby wanted to do was rip it off. She watched from afar as your skin glowed in the sunlight making you look ethereal. She couldn't help but ask the other farmhands your name, subtly trying to get them to divulge anything they knew about you. They didn't know much, you stayed far away from the farmhands for the most part. You would only watch them from afar on your walks... until Abby. She vowed to herself a while ago she would keep a distance in order to keep her job. It was easier when she could pretend you were some mythical being, too beautiful to be real. The day you asked for help was the day her restraint started to weaken as she realized you were as real as you were lovely. 

You would watch her as you usually did on your walks except now she would look back at you, flashing a sweet smile. You began passing the days desperately trying to come up with another reason to ask her for help to no avail. 

About a week passed since you last asked Abby for help when a rather large delivery came in from the tailor. You had quite a few dresses made and fitted and there were stacks of boxes that needed to be brought up to your bedroom. You silently cheered when you realized your father’s truck was missing from the driveway. When he left he would usually be gone all day, which would work out in your favor. You didn't have a particular plan in mind, but you knew it would be easier without the presence of your father looming over you. You walk out from the porch towards the field where Abby was working. She was feeding the chickens, dumping feed all around. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, her shirt softly clung to her abdominal muscles, sticky from sweat.

 “Abby!” You call out, “I need ya for a minute.” She quickly finishes feeding the birds and eagerly heads over to you. At this point you took priority over her job, although she would never admit that. 

Once she reaches you she nods and says “Lead the way, ma’am.” You smile and turn around to lead her back to the porch towards the stacks of boxes. 

“Just need help getting these up to my bedroom. They’re a bit heavy and I can’t carry them up the stairs myself.” You gesture to the pile of boxes on the porch

“You want me to come inside? In-into your bedroom? You sure? I’m all sweaty and dirty from workin' and I wouldn’t want to get your room dirty or nothing.” She sounds a little panicky and you can’t quite pin down why.

“I don’t mind.” You say quietly. 

“Al-alright,” She takes a breath “if you insist.” Abby looks down at the stacks of boxes, assessing how many trips up the stairs this was going to take. She grabs a stack of boxes and you open the screen door for her to let her inside. You walk ahead of her leading her up the stairs and into your bedroom. 

You hadn’t really had anyone in your bedroom before. It was a simple room with a queen bed against the wall, a soft white quilt adorning it. There was an old mirror in the corner of the room by the bed, the other side of the bed had a nightstand with a few candles and a stack of books. You had never felt insecure about your room until this very moment. 

“You’ve got a very nice room, miss.” Abby looks around trying to absorb any details she can. She has to suppress the thoughts that invade her mind when she sees the mirror by the bed. 

“Thank you.” You grin, genuinely appreciating the compliment.

There’s a slightly awkward pause before Abby blurts out “You read a lot?” She gestures to the stack of books by your bed.

“Yeah, I’m not allowed to do much so reading is one of my favorite ways to pass the time. Do you like readin’?” 

“I mean most of the time I’m workin’ or sleepin’, but when I was younger my mother used to read to me. I guess I like listenin’ to other people read more than actually reading myself. Haven’t been read to in years though, I guess that’s somethin’ just for little kids.” She’s clearly a nervous talker and you can’t help but adore her for it. 

“Doesn’t have to be, you just gotta find someone who’s willing to read to ya.” You smile at her before realizing the implication your sentence had. Hopefully she didn’t read too far into it.

“Yeah maybe one day.” She smiles at you and then sets the boxes down as you sit on the edge of the bed. You sigh in relief, thankful you didn’t scare her with your nervous rambling. She turns to head back downstairs to grab the rest of the boxes. As soon as she leaves the room you rush over to the mirror. You adjust your dress and check your hair, suddenly very aware of your appearance. You envied Abby in the sense that she looked beautiful even covered with dirt and sweat. You felt like you had to put in a mighty amount of effort just to appeal to other people. Once you hear Abby’s footsteps echoing up the stairs you rush back to the edge of the bed. She walks in and gently puts the last stack of boxes down. 

“Need anything else miss?” You look around trying to think of something, anything to keep her here. You’re about to give up and dismiss her when a devilish idea pops into your head. 

You smile sweetly at her as you say, “Actually, I need some help trying these on." You nod towards the boxes, "I can’t quite reach the zippers, plus I could use your opinion on some of ‘em.” It was quite the risky ask, but you were growing desperate. A slight ache had grown between your legs as you watched her carry the boxes up the stairs. Her tank top wasn't helping anything either, it perfectly displayed her incredible biceps and clung to her sweaty body, exposing the outline of her muscles.

Abby is visibly taken aback “I’m not sure I’m the best person you could ask for this miss. I’m not exactly a very fashionable person, and I-I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed in your room in the first place. I don’t want to make your father angry or nothing.” She laughs a little as she rubs the back of her neck. If she was being honest with herself Abby wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle watching you take off your dress without giving into her desire, and she was beginning to panic. She couldn’t say no to you either.

“Don’t be silly,” You giggle a little at how flustered she is. “He isn’t even home, and all you have to do is tell me what looks good and what doesn’t. It’s easy.” You look over Abby’s shoulder and realize the door is wide open. “Just go close the door for me so no one walks in on us.” You unzip your dress and slowly remove the straps from your shoulders right as Abby turns around to close the door. Your dress was on the floor by the time she turned back to face you. 

Abby turns away immediately when she realizes your dress is gone. You can’t help but giggle when you realize how much you startled her. 

“Why are you turnin’ away?” you ask, half teasing her.

“Well..uh..uhm.” She takes a breath trying to compose herself. “You-you’re indecent miss, I can’t exactly look at you right now.” Abby meant it more in the sense she can’t look at you without giving into the desire to throw you onto the bed and rip off your pretty undergarments. She also meant it in a sort of proper way because if anyone deserved that kind of respect it was you. 

“You can look.” you reassure her.

“Are you sure miss? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or disrespect you in any way.” She sounded so cute when she was nervous.

“Well if you can’t look at me, how exactly do you intend to help me with these dresses?” You can’t help but tease her, she made it too fun. You liked making her stutter.

“Um… I suppose you're right, miss.” She turns to face you, slowly. She looks you up and down with wide eyes, she’s stiff as a board. A brief silence goes by while you allow her to collect herself. 

“Well… pick something out of those boxes for me, any one you want.” Abby turns to the box closest to her feet, kneels down and opens it up. She pulls out a blue dress, similar to the one you would wear on your walks from time to time. 

“I-I like this one, blue looks pretty on you.” She looks at the dress pretending to study it, but it was just an excuse not to have to look at you in your bra. “I mean everything looks pretty on you, it’s just the first time I saw you, you were wearing blue so I started to like it when you would wear it because it would remind me-” 

“You think I’m pretty?” You cut her off since you had guessed she would have kept talking if you didn’t. 

She stutters out a response, “Well.. yes I-” 

“You know, you’re awfully pretty yourself.” You walk towards her looking up at her through your lashes and grab the dress from her. 

She laughs “Haven’t had many people call me pretty before, don’t think I really fit into the word, but thank you.” As she’s talking you slip on the dress and turn around, inviting her to zip it up for you. 

You laugh and reply, “You’re welcome.” Once you're zipped up you walk over to the mirror to see how it looks. “What do you think?” You had to admit the dress fit you immaculately. It hugged you in just the right places and the color was beautiful. 

“You-you look beautiful, it’s a-a beautiful dress miss.” She sounds a little breathless which caught you by surprise. 

“You really like it?” you asked, turning to her. 

“Yes, yes it looks very, very…” she takes a little breath, to compose herself “good on you miss.”

“I like it too.” You walk back over to her and turn around. “Gonna try another one then, since we’re keepin’ this one.” Abby starts unzipping you painfully slowly, trying to be as gentle as possible. You feel her knuckle glide down your back through the fabric of your dress and you’re not sure how much more you can take. You let the dress fall to your feet, turn back around and step even closer to her. 

Abby isn’t sure what to do, so she just takes a step back and says, “I-I’ll get you another dress to try on.” 

“You don’t think I look good just like this?” Gesturing to your bra and lacy panties. You were crossing a line, but you were hoping that you were right in the assumption that her nervousness was due to her attraction to you and not due to her just being plain scared of you. 

“Y-yes you look beautiful, bu-” She huffs a little “I-I thought you wanted to keep tryin’ on dresses. Don’t you have to get dressed for something like a walk or-” 

“Nope, I got nothin’ to do today.” 

“You don’t want to at least get into a nightgown or something because I-” You take a step even closer to her, you’re so close you could count every freckle that dotted her face. She cuts herself off, breathing out a hushed, “Hi.” not sure what else to say. Having you so close to her caused her to not be able to think straight. 

You could see the slight panic in her eyes, but there was something else: a desire. You couldn’t take it anymore, you lifted up onto your tip-toes and kissed her softly. She lets out a little squeak of surprise before melting into you. She gently held your jaw as you continued kissing her and you let out a hum of satisfaction. She pulls away quickly and you involuntarily let you a quiet whine.

“Wait-wait we shouldn’t do this.” her voice is barely a whisper. “I-I can’t lose my job and this could make your father mad. It’s not that I don’t want to.. I really really want to, but we both know I’m not good enough for you. You’re-” You cut her off kissing her again and she lets out a soft little moan in response. You start making your way to her jaw, lightly kissing a trail down her neck. “God,” she says trying to catch her breath, “you’re really not making this easy.” 

You start gently sucking and nipping her neck and she lets the tiniest moan slip from her lips. This only encourages you as you move back up to her lips, this time using your tongue to open up her mouth and she groans. You use her chest for support as you lean into her, trying to get as close to her as possible. She pulls away slightly “I can’t do this, I-” She sighs “I won’t be able to control myself, and I don’t wanna hurt you.” You just smile a little and kiss her again, harder this time, hoping it will finally convince her to give in. She whimpers into your mouth and kisses you back, she uses her tongue to massage yours and you moan at the sensation. 

“Bed,” she says between kisses, “please.” You move away from her and make your way over to the bed sitting down on the edge. “Lay down in the middle.” Her voice took on a new, more demanding tone causing the ache between your legs to grow painful. You did as she said and she climbed on top of you, putting her arms on either side of you, careful not to crush you. You looked up at her and realized she was looking at you like a meal. Your lips parted in surprise, and Abby took this as an invitation to kiss you again, roughly massaging her tongue against yours. She moved from your mouth to your neck. She started gently kissing her way down, you let out a little whine when she started sucking at the soft skin letting her teeth gently graze it. 

“God, you're so soft,” she breathes into your neck, “It’s driving me crazy.” She moves down to your clavicle gently kissing along it towards your shoulder.  “Can I go lower, miss?” She asks with a yearning that causes your breathing to grow heavier. You eagerly nod giving her permission. “I need to hear you say ‘yes’, miss.” 

“Yes, yes.” You reply, desperate. She moves to kneel in between your legs and starts kissing between your breasts and down your stomach. She makes a trail with her lips across your hips  and hovers her mouth over your panties. 

“Can I?” You can feel her breath on your sensitive clit through the fabric of your underwear and the small sensation is driving you wild.

“Please.” You manage to whimper out. Abby pulls your panties to the side and places a little kiss right on your clit before she starts licking at your sensitive bud causing you to let out a surprised squeak. You lace your fingers into her blonde hair, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of her rough tongue on your cunt. She teases your clit with her tongue, moving around it in circles. She lets out little satisfied moans whenever your hips buck up into her mouth. Suddenly she starts sucking hard on your sensitive bud and you moan loudly, “Feels so good Abs, don’t stop.” She looks up at you watching your face contort with pleasure and she starts grinding onto the mattress desperate for any relief. She could come just from watching you like this. 

“You’re so perfect, miss.” She groans against your cunt, the vibrations causing the pressure in your belly to build. 

“Wait.” You breathe out.

“What? What’s wrong, do you want me to stop? We can stop.” Abby starts to pull away, but you grab her hands and hold her in place.

“No, nothing’s wrong I just- I wanted to try something.” you reassure her.

“Oh…o-okay..” Abby rises up from between your legs and looks at you with a mix of confusion and curiosity. 

��Would you be okay with that?” you ask.

“Of course, miss, I'll do whatever you want me to do.” You nod, get up and crawl over to open the drawer in your nightstand. You grab what looks like a wad of towels and unwrap it revealing a double sided strap and harness. You turn to Abby with it in hand and her eyes grow wide.  

“You want me to-” She takes a breath, still staring at it, “to wear that?” You nod eagerly and hand it to her. “I’m not sure, miss, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself with that and I wouldn’t want to hurt you or accidentally be too rough with you and I-” she pauses “I really, really want to, I just don’t want to hurt you.” She looks up at you apologetically.

 “You can be as rough as you need to be, I’m not worried about you breakin’ me, not as fragile as I look.” You shoot a small smile at her, it was cute how worried she is, it’s sweet how she doesn’t want to hurt you, but you really wouldn’t mind that much. 

Abby’s eyebrows raise in surprise but she nods and says “Al-alright, I suppose I should get these off then.” gesturing to her pants. She stands up and begins unbuckling her belt eagerly. She lets her pants and underwear fall to the floor and within seconds the shirt’s gone too, leaving her in a sport’s bra. You couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping at the sight of her strong figure. You never really got to see her thighs because she was always wearing them stupid baggy pants, but they were so muscular and strong. The thought of grinding against them invades your mind causing you to clench around nothing. 

“See something ya like?” Abby smirks at you, clearly aware of her impressive physique. Now it was your turn to be flustered. 

“I-I.. yes. You- you’re so beautiful.” You look down at the white quilt, briefly to compose yourself before looking back up at her. Abby blushes a bit and smiles at you before she grabs the strap from the bed, she lets out the smallest moan as she pulls it on, the strap easily sinking into her. 

“Feels…feels real good.” She gasps out as she adjusts the harness. The sight of Abby like that had you dripping down your thighs, you were starting to grow impatient. 

“Get on your hands and knees for me baby, face the mirror.” You do as she says and she crawls back into the bed behind you. She kneels and rests her hands on your hips, smoothing them up and down. “Gonna use my fingers first, wanna make sure you’re nice and ready for me.” She takes her finger and swipes it up your slit gathering the wetness that had pooled there and starts teasing you entrance before sinking her large digit into your cunt. She gasps at how easily her finger slides into you, causing her to clench around the strap. She starts moving her finger in and out of your entrance slowly. She leans down, her mouth settling right next to your ear and whispers “You’re gonna watch me fuck you in that mirror.” You look up from the quilt and glance in the mirror. "Don't look away or I'll stop." She easily adds a second finger as you observe the way Abby is leaned over your naked body staring at you intently through the mirror. You whimper at the sight, tightening around her fingers. She leans to back away from your ear and starts kissing a trail down your spine. Her lips are so soft and the gentleness of the action paired with her roughly fucking you with her fingers was driving you insane. You begin letting out little moans every time her fingers pump into you. 

“You think you’re ready for me?” 

“Y-yes please.” you whimper, you would almost be embarrassed with how desperate you sounded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. She pulls her fingers out of your soaking cunt and sucks them clean. She runs her hands gently down from your hips to your thighs. 

“Gonna go nice and slow, alright? Just tell me if you need to stop.” She guides the strap to your wet entrance and slowly starts sinking in. Your muscles stretch and contract around the thick strap and you loudly whimper at the feeling. Abby starts making small sounds, clearly trying to hold herself back. She sinks all the way in and you both let out loud moans, she could feel the other side of the strap sinking deeper into her. 

“You ok? I won’t move until you say.” Her voice is slightly pitched, she can barely manage to speak through the intense pleasure. Abby could barely contain herself. 

“I-I’m ok, you can move.” Abby lets out a large sigh of relief and begins slowly moving her hips. You watch her face through the mirror as she lets out little gasps and moans as she fucks you. She starts moving a little faster when she meets you eyes in the mirror, propelled by the sight of you watching her. 

“F-feels so good.” She breathes out. “Not sure I can hold myself back for much longer, baby.”

You can barely get out the words, “D-don’t I can take it.”

“A-alright, whatever you say miss.” She stops for a moment to grab your hips and adjust herself. A loud whimper escapes from your lips when she starts pounding into you. Hard. She’s hitting that perfect spot inside of you and you swear you start to see stars. Every time you try and take a breath a the air is fucked out of you. Abby can’t hold back her moans any longer, they loudly echo through the room along with your own. Her moaning somehow makes everything better, the fact that she can’t even begin to try and control herself has you clenching around the silicone dick.  

“God, this feel-feels so much better than I thought it would.” She says between moans. 

“F-fuck Abby, feels s-so good.” You whimper out, you start to let your head drop, starting to lose the strength. 

“K-keep looking in the mirror, want you to watch me fuck you.” You muster up the strength to pick your head back up, watching as Abby pounded into you. 

“Oh god.” Abby whimpers, further losing her composure as you obey what she says. She keeps fucking you at a rapid pace and you can’t even control the noises pouring out of you anymore. The both of your moans echo through the room, along with the sound of Abby fucking you. You were in Heaven. 

“Abs I- fuck!” You’re not even sure what you were trying to say, but she seemed to understand.

“I know baby, feels too good, feels- oh fuck.” Abby is starting to lose control, she’s getting too close too fast. “I need to slow down baby, or I’m gonna come.” You whine a bit as she slows down her pace. You grind back into her, trying to get some relief, but after a few seconds Abby speeds back up again. 

“Feels too good to be going slow, I-I can’t do it.” You let your head drop again, but Abby won’t have it, “Look at me, look at me through that mirror baby.” You can barely manage to hold your head up, but you do what she says. She notices that you’re starting to weaken so she wraps her hands around your stomach to pull you up so you're kneeling in front of her. She uses one arm to hold you against her as she continues to guide the strap in and out of you, her warm strong body supporting you through it all. “Keep watching the mirror baby,” she gasps into your ear, “fuck, feels so good.” 

You feel the pressure in your belly building, right when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore Abby moves her other hand down to tease your clit. She moves it in slow circles and you loudly moan her name, overcome with pleasure. 

“You gonna come baby?” Abby asks quietly in your ear. Your eyes start to close, your pleasure starting to reach an almost unbearable peak. “Keep your eyes open and watch that mirror, baby and maybe I’ll let you come.” She holds you tighter against her, her strong arm holding you in place as she somehow fucked you harder. 

“Please, please I need to-” You cut yourself off with a moan, trying to hold your climax back. 

“I’m almost there, miss, just a little-” Abby grunts, “l-little longer, you can take it, can’t you?.” Her moans start to build, she’s getting painfully close, she wants to make this last as long as possible, but she won't be able to make it much longer. She moves her fingers on your clit faster. “F-fuck, come for me baby, p-please miss.” At her words you let go, your moans echo through the room harmonizing with her wild grunts, both of you reaching your high at the same time. She keeps moving the strap in and out of you, fucking you through it. 

Eventually you start to come down and she has reduced you to a puddle of jelly. You could barely hold yourself up, relying completely on her arms to keep you upright. She lays you down on the bed gently and removes the strap, throwing it on the ground. She lays down next to you and pulls you practically limp body to lay on top of hers, resting your head on her chest and letting your legs intertwine. You can hear her heartbeat and she’s so, so warm. You wanted to say something, but you physically couldn’t, you were gonna need a bit to recover. 

Surprisingly Abby breaks the silence, softly whispering “Thank you miss.” At that you promptly fall asleep to the sound of her steady breathing. 

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

happy pride month to my gals and my non-binary pals🌈! comments and notes are always appreciated. remember if you liked this go visit Jupiter X's page and check out the audio!!!! I love each and every one of you, I'm going to be posting more because of pride month and because y'all deserve it.

[lo-fi-charming]

so i've been keeping up with TMP as it's airing, which has been fun, it's actually really nice to experience this kind of story weekly since i came into TMA late and listened up to the s4 finale in like, a month or two. i've been enjoying the new characters and statements, and while i was worried i'd have trouble actively listening (my attention span/executive functioning can be really variable when it comes to podcasts), it's been surprisingly easy for me to actually listen to each new ep the day it drops publicly

all this to say im enjoying the show! but i've found myself feeling increasingly frustrated with a couple things i keep seeing when it comes to discussions of it

to me, it seems... there's been a pervasive reluctance to take TMP as what it is. and i do understand that. it'd be stupid to pretend TMP doesn't exist exclusively because of TMA and that show's success, that it's a successor that was pitched as being similar. it's a story being written by the same people (plus guests), in the same universe (roughly), going for about the same tone and maybe themes.

i just feel like it's a bit of a shame, though, that so many folks seem unwilling not to carry TMA with them when they're engaging with TMP

i don't know where or when it was said, but i swear there was a comment made by jonny and/or alex about how TMP will have some commonality with TMA in terms of world-building, but also, people who listened to TMA first may find themselves theorizing in the wrong direction because we're judging things based off what is no longer concrete, reliable information; things are going to work differently in the world of TMP, and since we have preconceived notions on what is relevant or how things work, that's going to influence how we engage with information presented in TMP if we let it. and that's not even considering the fact that they've been explicit in conveying the idea that TMP was written so you can experience it fully without having listened to any of TMA at all!

i'm very much someone who tries to engage with media on its own terms, largely taking things at face value until i'm given reason to suspect otherwise. that's something i'm trying my best to still do with TMP, even though obviously, i've also listened to TMA and am basing some of my thoughts and personal theories on what we know from that

but that's what i mean to say i guess, it's something you have to actively choose to do. and it feels like, just based on what i've been seeing in fandom spaces, that a lot of people are having a bit of an odd time with TMP because of a reluctance to do that?

i think the easiest way to explain what i mean is to point to a general acceptance, already on the level of fanon it seems, to interpret the computer voices as Our Jon and Martin (+ Jonah/Elias, maybe). now obviously we have the actual real world reason why their voices are present in TMP, because of course jonny and alex were going to come back as voices in the show in some way. and i 100% agree it's a perfectly logical conclusion to then interpret their inclusion as being related to Jon and Martin somehow. i'm personally very into the theory that it is in no way them - not in any way that matters - but specifically their voices that have been stolen (by the Web?) as a means to help spread fears in other realities. but that's really not how i've been seeing people play with the concept? it seems largely 1:1. and again, i totally understand where people are coming from with that - especially when you consider how it can be a super fun concept for horror and angst, or even just the fact that folks want an excuse to carry their favorite characters into this new show and still play around with them. i promise i don't mean to bring this up as a means of making anyone feel bad or like, chastised for interpreting things a certain way and playing in the space!

it's the biggest example of what i mean though, and was a huge point of frustration for me when we were first being presented with TMP. it's not just that i don't want the voices to be Jon and Martin proper (i am very into their Ambiguous End, i believe it's best to leave that as a space for fans to play in); in all honesty, i think it's kind of a shame and maybe even a bit boring (im sorry!) to be engaging with TMP this way

and it's not just stuff like that - i've been seeing a fair amount of people expressing frustration and feeling disappointed with how TMP is hitting, but i mean, i feel like that's inevitable when you're going into it expecting More TMA? i saw at least one person basically say "ive been waiting for it to make me feel the way TMA made me feel, and it hasn't yet", and i really just feel like that's setting yourself up to be dissatisfied! beyond the fact that we're only 5 episodes in and the story has barely gotten a chance to happen yet, a huge element of this new show is that it's being approached as a largely collaborative effort, it seems, with lots of guests coming in to help shape the story and more writing and plotting influence that isn't jonny

obviously it's fine to not be super into that! undoubtedly it's a question of taste. but you do have to acknowledge that that's the case and adjust your expectations accordingly, or else you're not going to have a great time

i really like TMA, i had a great time with it, but even if TMP is a sequel to its parent podcast, it's not the same thing - and personally, i don't want it to be! i do hope that's a sentiment that is able to be more widely felt by some fans as we gain more distance from TMA while TMP is airing. i just think more people would be able to enjoy it that way, and come up with more interesting theories and interpretations of things! but those are really just my own personal thoughts

[wannaeatramyeon]

Can we get lookism boys seeing their s/o for the first time?

Literally love at first sight and maybe their reactions?

Thanks,

Thanks for the ask! I've written a few slightly more fleshed out 'Meeting for the First Time' listed here (Gun, Goo, Jake, Johan). But let's do some other scenario for my usual suspects.

Umm...I actually really dislike the love at first sight trope. But I do like the double-take at first meeting trope, yknow what I'm saying? Here's a mix of everything!

Love at First Sight Double-Take at First-ish Meeting: Gun, Goo, Jake, Sammy, Vin + Taehoon!

Gun Park - Ultra Instinct

Gun is not ashamed to admit that it was the sashay of your hips that turned his head at first. He is a hot blooded male after all.

And then when you whirled around, asking "See something you like?"with a confident smirk and your own jet-black eyes staring back, moments before landing a throat punch.

Well. Gun is a goner. Head over heels, lying-awake-thinking-of-you obsessed.

Maybe he should have gotten a name. But two UI users meeting each other can't just be a coincidence, he must be destined to see you again.

Who would have thought Gun Park would believe in something as ridiculous as fate.

.

.

Goo Kim - Reflection

Goo detested you on first meeting. How can such a pretty face have so much venom.

All double-edged and saccharine, nothing to be taken at face value. You even had the audacity to ask if the weapon wielding was compensating for something.

And to add insult to injury, Gun had laughed. Goo didn't even realise Gun was capable of such emotion.

Ugh. Goo does not like having a taste of his own medicine.

As the day dragged on, Goo's obsession grew. It really was like looking into a mirror. Sure this reflection isn't as sexy as his usual. But. It's still pretty sexy nonetheless.

Huh, he wanders the corridors with a sly grin, wondering about you, Let's see how well you can keep up with me.

.

.

Jake Kim - Business Unit for Rent

Jake, for some bizarre reason relegated to realtor duties, shows you around the business unit. A long empty store that, fingers crossed, after today would no longer be a drain on the finances.

"All this can be yours for 2 million won a month," he flashes his most dazzling smile. Charming and toothy that he knows few could resist.

Unfortunately, it is completely missed by you as you continue casting an astute eye over the premises.

"Ah look at the state of this. The ventilation system is awful."

Jake blinks, looking at whatever the hell you're pointing at. "It is?"

"And the walls! It'll need plastering and floors completely redone."

"Um. Maybe it has been a while since-"

"I heard the footfall is terrible here. Constantly declining. 23% down on last year?"

Your sharp eyes peer into his and he freezes. Where the hell did you even get those stats? Not even Lua or Jason would know this.

"Well..." he scratches the back of his head, thinking of what to say.

Half an hour later, after a whirlwind of complaints and pointing out flaws, you've signed a 12 month contract for less than half the initial asking price.

Shit, Jake thinks, Jason is going to kill me. Actually... Fuck. This unit had been recently renovated to attract potential renters. And footfall figures? Must be plucked out of thin air.

You completely twisted his arm with your bullshit.

Jake can't even bring himself to be mad, he's impressed. Who the hell are you? He's looking forward to seeing more of you and your smart mouth.

.

.

Samuel Seo - Tattoos (let's ignore the timelines here)

Not many people pass Samuel's exacting standard on first meeting, but you do He's frankly impressed with your work.

Someone similar to his age yet already amassing an impressive portfolio with impeccable linework and pristine colouring. No wonder you're booked out for months.

"So," your hands graze over his pecs, all strictly business yet his skin prickles at your touch. "You're thinking of your first tattoo here?"

"Yes."

"Cool, and you want it to eventually be a Sak Yant full body?" He nods. "Ok, it's going to take a while and quite a few sessions."

You give him a smile that leaves his throat dry. "Guess we're going to see a lot of each other."

.

.

Vin Jin - My name

Vin holds out his phone and with his most charming smirk, asks for your number.

"Sure," you fold your arms, showing no intention of reaching for the device, "You can have my number if you tell me my name."

"What?"

"I'm waiting," And now it's your turn to plaster on your smirk.

Fuck, who the hell do you think you are. Vin storms into the corridor, ego bruised and mood soured. Ugh, whatever. He has plenty of chicks interested anyway. He doesn't need to-

The lightbulb goes off over his head. Mary must know. She knows goddamn everything going on in this school.

Vin dashes off in search for her, thoughts from seconds ago already completely erased and giddy at the thought of finally getting your name and your number.

.

.

Seong Taehoon - Taekwondo

The first oddity is having someone your age show up for their first lesson. Then it turns out it's not your first.

The second oddity is when Taehoon tells you to show him what you got, you execute a perfect 1080 kick.

The last oddity, which really shouldn't be an oddity at all for Taehoon's ego, is that you are a fan of his from his UFC days and you think Taekwondo is the best.

Damn. And all that punctuated with a perfect 90 degree bow and 'Master Seong' too.

If that isn't the perfect way to worm yourself under his skin. Taehoon's going to be keeping an eye on you.

[organizationhimself]

i actually can't believe I'm only just now understanding the sick burn of the WINNER stick in the year of our lord 2024.

i always assumed roxas gave this to axel based on some kind of childish logic i didn't really understand. you know, like he's giving up something important while he's running away from home, or he's rejecting the whole ritual of the ice cream thing and making it a fuck you, axel, hope you feel like you won something. (idk, i played kingdom hearts before all my baby brains fell out so i didn't really question these things.)

but here's the thing, and it's unique to the game (the manga has a different take). roxas finds that WINNER stick towards the beginning of the game, when axel's not around to explain it. so he just kinda forgets to mention, and as a result has this thing that axel is totally unaware he has for months and months.

it's not till much later that axel thinks to mention, oh hey, if you find WINNER written on one of your ice cream sticks, that's good or something, and the kiddos are like why?? and axel goes good question i don't got a fuckin clue, I've never found one, but you must win something cool right??

FRIENDS. i need you to understand something about this man's ice cream consumption.

we know FOR A FACT that axel has been eating an average of one (1) sea salt ice cream bar for nearly an entire year. bbs proves there is an outstanding chance that he has been eating it for multiple years before that, yes alone, yes still sitting on the clock tower (or equivalent), pathetic wet cat of a man, you might not like it but this is what peak performance looks like. so even if we're more generous than I'm inclined to be and say that between twilight town's discovery, castle oblivion, skipping days because of interpersonal drama or missions running late, etc., axel has only had 1-2 ice creams per day for about eight out of twelve months, friends that is AT LEAST 240 fucking ice creams in a row?? comrades HE HAS TO BE GOING TO THE SAME STORE SOMETIMES. we're not even talking about roxas, who is there on the clock tower EVERY DAY, rain or shine, ice cream in hand, and has never found a second winner stick. who decided this ratio of winners to losers, willy wonka?? what the fuck is this marketing campaign?? no wonder axel doesn't know what you win when these things are rarer than ethers in kh1 and roxas should be mailing that thing to a museum. how does axel even know the WINNER sticks exist?? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS.

anyway, the point I'm getting to is that there's this other seemingly valuable thing that axel can't explain the purpose or use case of to roxas and xion's satisfaction. and it's also something roxas has had for months without axel's (or tbh his own) knowledge, never once realizing the significance of it.

that thing is of course, hearts.

so when roxas leaves that stick behind, yeah he's probably saying "i don't need your friendship anymore." yeah he's probably saying "screw this, screw you, i quit."

but he's also saying "here's this thing you wanted that has value i don't understand, and i know you don't get it either. pursuing things like this is obviously more important to you than we are, or you wouldn't still be here in the organization's stronghold to find this. i didn't need to have this thing to make those days with you guys worthwhile, but since you're still looking for one, here it is. i hope it was worth it."

like jesus kid. here i thought he was supposed to be the fire guy.

[rabbitsrants]

SHINICHI KUDO IS TOO MUCH

guys, i'm currently working on the "reasons why shinran is one of the most brilliantly written romances of all time" masterlist and i came across this part of the manga:

chapter 44

AND I AM LAUGHING MY ASS OFF

shinichi is absolutely RUTHLESS in this chapter. correct me if i'm wrong, but this has to be his angriest moment throughout the entire series? i don't remember him acting this way in any other chapter 😂 like... shinichi is the type of guy who saves murderers from suicide, it's a well known fact that he values human life more than anything, HE'S A DEEPLY IDEALISTIC PERSON, YALL, THAT'S THE MAIN TRAIT THAT DEFINES HIM AS A PERSON and he straight up tells this dude (whos about to slit his own throat btw) TO GO AHEAD AND KILL HIMSELF

this is the most unhinged i've ever seen him 😂

now, let me be serious for a second. obviously, shinichi strongly suspected that the culprit wouldnt go through with it - he spent the entire case trying to cover up his murder after all, that's not something a suicidal person does. still though. the fact that shinichi was willing to risk it says so much about his love for ran. cause that's what his rant is about. the culprit tried to kill ran on multiple occasions and almost succeeded a couple of times. if there's one thing that shinichi can not handle, it's ran being in danger. he'll lose his composure every single time and he will lash out, even at innocent people who are just trying to help:

chapter 640

this man is so devoted to ran, it hurts.

that's why im so shocked everytime the fandom implies that ran is an irrelevant character who doesnt contribute anything to the story. if (for whatever reason) ran stopped being in the picture, the story would end right then and there.

people seem to forget that shinichi has prioritized ran over cases on numerous occasions (that aspect of their relationship deserves its own post tbh, i'll hopefully get to it in the future), he completely loses his mind everytime there's even the slightest risk that she might get hurt and this case right here? chapter 44? that's the wildest shit shinichi has ever said 😂 the part about justice was spot on and very in character for him, but the rest? it was brutal... and very unlike him. which is shocking, considering that ran was completely unharmed. do me a favor and let that sink in: the end of chapter 44 was merely his reaction to the thought of losing ran - he completely lost his shit. now, if ran actually stopped being in his life? shinichi wouldn't just lose his temper, he'd lose himself.

for the record, this isnt me implying that he would go rogue or whatever. the reason why shinichi is so angry in chapter 44 is because ran is okay and tangible, so he still has something to lose. but if she was gone? if she stopped being his life? he wouldn't be angry, he'd be inconsolable. if the level of anger displayed in chapter 44 and 640 is what we get when shinichi simply worries about ran's safety, just imagine the level of heartbreak that we would witness if he genuinely lost her.

shinichi loves and needs ran so much, it's unfathomable for most people, including me. everytime i think i cracked the case and finally figured out how much shinichi loves ran, he proves me wrong. and while i think that most cold cases are a tragedy, i think im coming to terms with leaving this one unresolved. after all, love is the most mysterious force in the universe. and always will be.

visit the shinran library for more

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Dark Moon | Chapter Five

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 2,7k

Warnings | +18, MC is attacked, insults, receives hatred and humiliation, angst, blood, Jimin takes care of her and also teases her, slight fingering, Jimin tastes her, MC does not understand her feelings, Hoseok grabs her by the neck

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi guys, here's the fifth chapter of Dark Moon 💜Let me know what you think, I've only been writing yandere for a short time, but I love it and I hope you like what I write too 💕🥰

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon, @hecateslittlewitchling, @namjoonsbuspass, @darkuni63, @xicanacorpse

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"Here she is, Jimin's new dog."

Y/N lifted her gaze to Ester, the woman watching her with disdain and a more than obvious expression of envy.

Other girls behind her giggled, as if to humor her, and Y/N preferred not to respond to that provocation.

After the terrible evening she had spent with that monster, she just didn't want to know about fighting with that chick as well, her face aching from the slaps she had received, as well as her head from the repeated tugging. Not to mention her throat, she was so ashamed to even admit it to herself.

"Aren't you going to answer? After an evening of getting fucked like a bitch in heat, I bet you don't lack appetite," Ester spat between her teeth, pointing to the small plate of cookies the young woman had indulged in, after a whole day spent in her room, between the covers. Terrified that he might return to finish the job.

"Leave her alone, Ester! It's certainly not her fault that you're no longer in Jimin's good graces.... ever if you were ever there, maybe you found yourself in that position because you were the only one who could stand it," Hanon interjected, Ester seemed hesitant to continue with her torture, from what Y/N understood, Hanon was Namjoon's favorite, and everyone knew the man had quite a bit of power within the Dark Moon, almost on par with Seokjin himself.

"Why do you get in the way? Have you become best friends yet?"

"You said I am Jimin's new dog.... does that imply that you were previously one too?"

Silence fell in the room, the women present stared in surprise at Y/N, then a growl ripped the air and the girl felt something hit her head, she screamed in shock at the sudden aggression and fell back, bumping into a tea table that caused her to hiss from a sharp pain in her side, then a weight not inconsiderable for one of her build came down on her.

Soon realizing that Ester was striking her in a frightful fury, the young woman dodged a few blows by covering her face with her hands, but she could not avoid Ester's well-manicured nails that dug into her cheek, leaving long scarlet streaks as a reminder.

"Ester, that's enough!!!" shouted Hanon, shocked by her colleague's fierce anger, grabbed her by the shoulders pulling her back, but she really only moved a little before she came back to strike at every point Y/N, who tiredly grabbed Ester's hair, pulling it to herself before punching her in the nose, the one with a stunned cry froze, falling to the side.

"What's your problem!" gasped Y/N in shock, touching her face with her heart struggling against her rib cage.

To her horror, she saw the fingers of her hand smeared with blood; all the women were watching her with their hands to their mouths, confused by that sequence of events far too fast to reason logically.

"My problem is you, you filthy little bitch! I don't know where the fuck you came from, but I'm going to make sure I bring you back, so it'll be just like before!" growled Ester with murderous eyes and a bloody nose, raising her arm once more so that she could strike the young woman, but a much larger and stronger hand clamped around her wrist, blocking that violent movement.

Jimin looked somberly at Ester, who fell silent in response, making herself tiny.

Then the boy cast a glance at Y/N, whitening slightly. The girl had ruffled hair and an obvious wound on her face, a trickle of blood flowed down from her forehead to join the disaster that stretched across her cheek, she was also holding her side with a pained expression, her arms were red, and bruises would surely appear soon. Ester, on the other hand, had only a streak of blood under her nose; it was obvious who had started it all, but the man wanted to hear it.

"I won't repeat myself twice, who started this?" his grip on her wrist intensified, Ester squeezed her eyes shut in pain but did not speak, nor did the others.

Y/N looked at Jimin and Ester with disdain, him because he was the cause of her pain, her because she was so obsessed with the man that she had gone so far as to beat her for no good reason.

But the boy did not seem angry with her; perhaps she could have used that situation to get that woman out of her way; he had a feeling that with Ester around she would not have an easy time of it.

It was Hanon who spoke up, trying not to put too much stock in the young woman, who by snitching would surely attract the displeasure of the other women as well. But that was how it worked there, newcomers were always the victims of bad jokes and nastiness.

"Ester didn't understand her place here, so she didn't take your decision well, Jimin."

Ester gritted her teeth, glowering at the older woman, who was not intimidated by her gaze.

Jimin nodded in her direction, casting another glance at Y/N.

"Take her to her room, let her stay there until I return," Hanon immediately took a step toward Y/N, but Jimin blocked her, "I wasn't referring to her."

Y/N winced as Jimin threw Ester to the floor, who let out an outraged cry before the boy stepped over her to reach Y/N.

"You're coming with me," he said harshly, before lifting her by the arm without hurting her to the profound amazement of the young woman, "You need to be medicated," he hissed under his breath to be heard only by her, the others watched that exchange increasingly dumbfounded, never had they seen Jimin so caring toward one of his girls. Nor had he been with Ester, who felt a painful twinge of jealousy sweep over her without her being able to do anything, not in Jimin's presence. She had to bow her head in the face of that defeat filled with humiliation.

"Can you walk?" asked Jimin coldly, Y/N nodded but he looked at her skeptically, she was limping as she continued to hold her side that had hit that tea table, the blow must have been quite severe and Jimin with an all too natural movement passed one arm under her legs and the other around her hips, lifting her up like a hapless little bride.

"I can very well walk by myself," she hissed with contracted lips, not only had she yet to recover from the pain he himself had caused her, now she was also feeling strange twinges in her head and face, she was losing blood and still did not know what had hit her head so brutally.

"Jesus, give it a rest!" blurted Jimin, lowering his gaze to her face, they found themselves inches apart, their breaths mingled and Jimin squinted his eyes at the faint scent of cherries and peony that the girl exuded, her expression seemed to him that of a frightened puppy trying to show herself strong in front of the hunter, "You need me, no one else will stand by you like I do," he continued, feeling a strange feeling of possession in his chest, she could only survive because of him.

"You think you scare me?" she huffed like a cat, but Jimin sneered as he entered through a door the girl had never seen before.

It soon turned out to be the infirmary of the Dark Moon, the beds arranged in a row in that space so white and clean it sent chills down her spine, it looked like a room out of a real horror movie.

The boy had her lay down with a strange delicacy on one of the beds, before walking away in search of products to disinfect the cuts.

"Do you feel pain anywhere?" he asked, Y/N licking her chapped lips from the long bites she had given herself the night before out of nervousness.

"I was beaten, of course I feel some."

"You're right" was the man's simple reply, which led the girl to wonder what he was up to, he seemed far too placid, she was sure that in another situation he would have slapped her for her boldness.

When Jimin reached her with everything she needed, the girl flinched, fearing a sharp reaction. But the boy remained firmly in place, scrutinizing her expressionlessly.

" You’re scared for so little, sweetheart," he sneered, earning a glare, "Now, let me see."

It took Jimin the next few minutes to realize that the extent of the damage was too great to settle for simple disinfectant and bandages, something heavy had been thrown at the girl's head, which continued to bleed, albeit more slowly. Moreover, the scratches on her cheek were deep, from whatever angle he looked at her he agreed that stitches were needed there, and he was not really the person for such a job.

For the moment he dabbed the medical substance with soft cotton, Y/N hissed occasionally squinting her eyes, escaping the boy's predatory gaze.

"Are you... Are you going to punish her?"

Jimin blocked his action, tilting his head slightly to observe her better, they were so close that he once again smelled her scent.

"Don't you want to?" he asked, but she turned away, "No ... that's not it. You want me to punish her," he chuckled.

He took her chin between two fingers, forcing her not to look away from his.

"Do you like this awareness?"

Y/N clenched her fingers, clinging to the sheets as if to escape a disgusting guilt, and her mind was asking her to lie, to evade it.

"Go ahead, tell me. What is it that causes you pleasure? The fact that he will suffer for beating you... or the idea of someone standing up for you?"

"No!" she exclaimed, knowing she was lying.

Jimin held her tighter to him, "Liar, you've lived a shitty life and I bet no one has ever bothered to make you feel protected," each word was a stiletto to her poor heart.

He was right, she wanted someone to protect her, she was tired of fighting the world alone, she just wanted to rest. She needed a hero to chase away the bad guys for her, but Jimin was no hero and he certainly would not be hers.

"Stop it, you don't know anything about me! You're just a madman who kidnapped me and took my sister away!" she exclaimed with tears in her eyes, hitting him in the chest with weak fists, the man towering over her with his weight, crushing her against the bed.

"You only have to look at you for a moment to realise that you're just a little slut quivering for a little attention, would you get wetter if I told you I'd be willing to kill her to avenge you?" an electric shock to her core was what made her miss a beat.

No, she could not get aroused by such evil. She was not like him, she was not-

She arched her back as Jimin's hand sank without warning into her intimacy, she hadn't noticed the silent movement under her skirt and gasped wordlessly as his fingers moved in and out of her soft slit.

"Mhm... Yes, you are such a slut all wet," giggled the boy.

She tightened her legs around that hand, felt the man's fingers curl up before snapping out with a strange wet sound, watched him lick her essence with the tip of his rosy tongue, before sucking in contentedly.

Jimin squinted his eyes as he swirled the taste of her on his tongue, his palate was in ecstasy at that forbidden sweetness, the thought of ripping off her panties and licking her until she screamed tickled his mind, but torture was his speciality.

As if he had done nothing naughty, he went back to applying patches to her face, all under the shocked eyes of the woman, who had not even moved to avoid that little sexual assault.

Which she still couldn't understand.

"Ester will get what she deserves, don't worry," he clarified, "But you will have to surrender in return."

"Surrender to what, to you?" huffed the young woman, shaking her head, "I am not yours, Jimin."

The man felt his cock stiffen and swell inside his boxers at the sound of his name, spoken in a low, persuasive tone.

He smiled like a feline at the hostile provocation, putting his lips to the young woman's, "You will beg to be mine".

He was about to kiss her, his intentions could be read clearly, he tilted his head to reach her better and Y/N imperceptibly moved her head further back, indecisive. Was she to fight and deny herself? Was she to give him at least that once as thanks for saving her from Ester's fury? But that would once again have been like selling herself as a prostitute.

Her doubts were not answered, the boy's soft, turgid lips never reached hers.

"Am I interrupting something?"

The look Jimin gave the man standing in the doorway must have been worth a thousand words, because Y/N saw him stretch his lips into a smirk.

"You know very well, Hoseok."

The girl frowned, then remembered. It was that red-haired man who had laid hands on her sister that night.

A blind rage pervaded her, with what courage was he showing up there after all he had done to a little girl?

She jerked off the bed with a force she never believed was hers, pushing Jimin away who was stunned at her reaction, wanting only one thing, to ruin Hoseok's beautiful face.

She almost succeeded, almost.

For even before the girl's hands could reach the man's perfect face, Hoseok did not find it difficult to peg her by the throat two feet off the ground.

The young woman struggled against that death grip, gasping for air and kicking at his abdomen to try to stop him, but Hoseok seemed to chuckle at her grit.

A firm grip imprisoned his wrist, Hoseok looked with a raised eyebrow at Jimin, who was watching him coldly.

"Leave her, hyung. I don't want to repeat myself."

"She attacked me out of the blue, I'm just teaching her to stay in her place," blurted his friend, tightening his fingers even more around that thin, soft neck.

Jimin inhaled through his nose, "She's hurt, she's not thinking straight. Look at her, she's still bleeding and needs stitches," he hissed, trying to calm himself. He didn't want to argue with Hoseok, he was a close friend and didn't want to go that far, as sensing his thoughts the man let go of his grip in a rush, causing Y/N to tumble to the ground, who took to coughing paonazzily in her face.

"Then call a doctor," he said adjusting his jacket, "But mind you, one more little joke like that and you won't be able to save her, I heard about the fight and was curious how she was doing, I didn't expect such a welcome."

"You raped my sister!" croaked in tears, Hoseok tilted his head.

Then he raised his eyebrows, as if he suddenly remembered.

"Ah, yes...that whiny girl who was with you, I didn't rape her, I just ascertained if she was a virgin, and she was lucky for her," he shrugged, "Surely she'll be better off than you," he sneered, casting a glance at his friend, "She ended up with a big shot, you on the other hand will be forced to take a lot of cocks."

Again that annoyance, Jimin did not know where that sense of oppression he felt in his stomach came from every time he imagined her with another man.

"You're a disgusting being," hissed Y/N at the address of Hoseok, who laughed openly.

"Well, I'll be off then... and who knows, maybe your next client will be me."

"Don't bother," was Jimin's dry reply, which surprised Hoseok and Y/N.

Hoseok sealed his lips, Jimin was very strange in the last few days, just since he had kidnapped that girl, he understood that it was better to cut it out, an angry Jimin was also a lethal Jimin.

He took a step back and with a nod to his friend got out of the way, collapsing the silence in the room.

Y/N felt her eyelids grow heavy, slumped to the floor and did not hear Jimin's half-expletive, which caught her before she could hit her head.

[h-sleepingirl]

Milton Erickson and a Rabbi Walk into a Bar... (Essay)

Finally, I've finished this essay about connections I'm finding between hypnosis, Judaism, magic, and intimacy. It's ~4.5k words, extremely "me," and I'm really thrilled to share it. Enjoy!

--

My weakness is getting deeply invested in very niche topics.

Hypnosis was my first and most lifelong obsession. It was my confusing, shameful sexual fetish that I eventually took by the horns and -- through my desire to learn as much about it as humanly possible -- turned into a job. But not a normal sex work job where I do hypnosis for money -- a weird job where I just teach about it. The kink community, and the further-specific niche where people want to hypnotize each other during intimate experiences, became my home.

But the value of study doesn't really come from the quantity of people I'm able to engage with. It comes from the way it enriches my life. It creates and benefits from the capability to see overlaps between all of my various interests.

On the surface, it may appear that two skills have no relationship. But the deeper you get into each one, a synthesis appears.

At a certain point when you are learning hypnosis, all seemingly-unrelated information seems to fit effortlessly into your hypnotic knowledge. You can listen to a song and suddenly you learn something new about how to hypnotize someone. Maybe it was a lyric that gave you an evocative emotional response; maybe it was a pattern in the music that you thought about replicating with the rhythm of your hypnotic language.

Over a decade into my own hypnosis learning, I got very lucky and found a second passionate home in communities of Jewish text study about a year ago. I started from almost zero there and found myself again to be a greedy novice, obsessed with digging into it.

Of course, as I got further, it became that I read a page of Talmud (a text of rabbinical law and conversation) and suddenly I learned something new about how to hypnotize someone. And as I progress, it is starting to go the other way: I learn about Torah study by reading about hypnosis and intimacy.

There are two directions this essay can be read. “How can intimacy and hypnosis teach us about Jewish text?” And, “How can Jewish text teach us about intimacy and hypnosis?” One half is of each part written by me as an authority, and the other half is by me as an avid novice. The synthesis of these two parts of me -- just like any synthesis between concepts -- may perhaps create something new.

Models

I’m sure most communities have a version of the idiom, “Ask three people a question and get five answers.” For a long time, this was a source of frustration for me in the hypnosis community. Is hypnosis a state of relaxation and suggestibility? Kind of, but also no. Is it more accurate to say it is based on unconscious behaviors and thoughts? Well -- kind of, but also no. 

So what is it? Well, it’s probably somewhere in the overlap of about 20-30 semi-accurate definitions and frameworks for techniques -- what we’d call “models.” Good luck!

Why is hypnosis so impossible to define and teach? How have we not found a model that we can all agree upon yet? I think many people share this confusion, and it's complicated by the fact that most sources for hypnosis education teach their model as the model. It makes sense -- it would be difficult to teach a complete beginner a handful of complex frameworks with which to understand hypnosis when that person is just trying to muddle through learning “how to hypnotize someone” on a practical, basic level.

…Or would it be? By the time I got involved with Jewish study, I had long given up on chasing the white whale of some unified theory of hypnosis. I was firmly happy with the concept that all ways to describe hypnosis are simply models -- and all models are flawed, while some models are useful. I was delighted, when entering Jewish community spaces, to hear the idiom, “Three Jews, five opinions.”

This concept is baked into Jewish text study, in my experience. You can look at any single line in Torah and find innumerable pieces of commentary on it, ancient and modern, with conflicting interpretations. Torah and other texts are studied over and over -- often on a schedule -- with the idea that there is always something new to learn. And this happens partially by the synthesis of multiple people's perspectives adding to and challenging each other, developing new models. My Torah study group teacher always starts us with a famous line from Pirkei Avot, a text of ethical teachings from early rabbis: “If two sit together and share words of Torah, the Shekhinah [feminine presence of God] abides among them.”

The capacity to develop and hold multiple interpretations at once enriches your relationship with the text. So too do I believe that being able to hold multiple interpretations of what hypnosis is and how it works enhances your skill with it. It is not a failure of the system -- it is the best thing about it.

Intimacy

It is intentional to make the distinction of “relationship with the text” -- not “relationship to the text.”

My job on the surface is to teach hypnosis, but the meta goal is to simply teach something that helps people develop profound intimacy with others. I think that hypnosis is a kind of beautiful magic that is well-suited to this, but it’s not the only path to take.

One of my favorite educators, Georg Barkas, describes themselves as an intimacy educator who teaches rope bondage. Their classes and writings are highly philosophical and align closely with my own ideas about intimacy -- as well as my partner’s, MrDream, from whom I’ve learned so much. I frequently cite Barkas when I talk about hypnosis because I feel the underlying ideas they have about rope bondage are extremely applicable to all kink and intimacy -- and I will continue that trend here.

Barkas recently published an excellent essay looking in detail at the concept of intimacy itself. They posit that our first thought of intimacy is usually about a kind of comfort-seeking and familiarity. That’s contained within the etymology of the word, and socially it’s what many of us think of when we define our relationships as “intimate”: settling in to engage with a partner who we love, know, and understand.

But, Barkas asks, what if we place this word into a different context? They talk of how in scientific endeavors, the goal of “becoming familiar with” is unpredictability and discovering things that are surprising and unexpected. This perhaps offers a different view of intimacy: intimacy where you do not engage with your partner as though you know everything about them; intimacy where being surprised by them and learning something new is the goal.

My partner MrDream teaches about this often in hypnosis education: approaching a partner with genuine curiosity and interest -- “curiosity” implying that you don’t know what to expect, with a positive connotation. There is a kind of delicate balance between being able to anticipate some aspects of what is going to happen hypnotically -- to have a general grasp on psychology and hypnosis theory -- versus holding tight to a philosophy that neither you nor the hypnotic subject really knows how they are going to respond. The unexpected is not to be feared, but celebrated and held as core to our practice. Hypnotic “subjects” (those being hypnotized) who can relax their expectations will often have more intense experiences.

Thus we come to the first time in this essay where I mention Milton Erickson, my favorite forefather of modern hypnosis. Erickson was a hypnotherapist active through the 1900s and is famous (among many things) for presenting a model of hypnosis that wasn’t necessarily an authoritative action done to a person, but a collaborative and guiding action done with a person.

In his book “Hypnotic Realities,” he talks about how his view of clinical hypnosis is defined by how the therapist is able to observe each individual client and directly use those observations to continually develop a unique hypnotic approach with them. The client’s history, interests, and modes of thinking are utilized for the trance, as well as any observable responses they have in the moment. For example, a client with chronic pain may have the frustration they express over that pain incorporated into the trance. This is in deep contrast to hypnosis where the therapist comes in with any kind of “script” or formula to recite ahead of time.

It’s important to Erickson’s model that the therapist doesn’t know exactly what to anticipate, and it’s also important hypnotically that the same is true for the client. A common “Ericksonian” suggestion is, “You don’t have to know what is going to happen, and I don’t know either.” In order to develop the most effective approach with each patient, Erickson would enter into a session with some presumed knowledge, but ultimately learning -- not assuming -- how to best hypnotize each individual person.

We circle back to the phrase, “a relationship with Jewish text.” In my opinion, engaging with Torah is exactly this kind of intimacy. Torah is something we come into in order to poke and prod at it, to interact with it and to see how it interacts back at us. The teacher of my study group always cites a model where Torah itself is a participant in our partnered learning and group discussions. We ask it questions, we push its boundaries, we strive to glean something new and yet unseen. A line that may seem simple on the surface can reveal much more when we explore its context or put it into a different context entirely. 

This is easier for me to say as someone who is coming into learning Torah for the first time, but I am able to look ahead to when I will be fully familiar with the text and still be able to take this expanded definition of intimacy with it. Not coming to it without a sense of comfort, but still engaging with curiosity. MrDream teaches a model for hypnosis that is based on the idea of exploration -- exploring your partner no matter how long you have been with them. You are always coming to them as a different person, shaped by your ever-growing experiences and identity, and your partner changes as a human as well. I believe Torah is also dynamic in this way, as the context within which it exists -- and the way we interpret it -- is constantly shifting.

Ritual

I have been engaging with spiritual ritual on and off for as long as I’ve been learning hypnosis. The concept of magic has always been alluring to me -- not from a motivation to meet specific goals, but for something more difficult to pin down. I like that ritual, in an esoteric framework, is about looking at various metaphors between ingredients and actions; a candle representing an element of fire which may in turn represent intensity, or purity, or something else. Drawing meaningful connections between concepts like this is a skill I’ve developed in parallel with hypnosis, as well.

I was recently talking with a friend of mine who is also interested in esotericism -- we were sharing our frustrations with various books on magic and ritual. We wondered why so many sources would go on to teach prescriptivist formulas and associations, and not much else. Do this, and that will happen. This symbol represents that. My friend and I agreed that the ritual value of ingredients comes from how you personally assign meaning to them -- but why was everything always trying to teach us their meaning, as opposed to teaching us how to cultivate our own associations?

A week or so later, I happened to go to an excellent class that explored whether or not there was a place for smudging and smoke use in modern Jewish ritual. The teacher first took a careful, measured approach towards looking at indigenous smudging practices and the concept of appropriation. What followed was 30 minutes of history and text exploring examples of smoke in early Judaism, and then 30 minutes of a handful of interpretations of what “smoke” could mean and represent with relation to Jewish ideas -- directly practical to modern ritual. It was utterly excellent and immediately profound for me, as someone who has been yearning to blend my experience with esoteric ritual with my relationship with Judaism.

Observant readers will note that through this essay I speak passively about Judaism -- I am a patrilineal Jew, which for better or worse means that it is not a simple matter to say, “I am ‘fully’ (or ‘not’) Jewish.” (I am in the beginnings of working with a Conservative rabbi -- who affirms that I’m Jewish -- to make my status halachic [lawful], which is deeply exciting.) Opinions on that aside, a relevant piece of information is that the Jewish holiday we celebrated most consistently when I was growing up was Chanukah. While a lot of Jewish practice has been something I’ve been striving towards as an adult, Chanukah has always been “mine.” It was fast approaching after this class, and I felt motivated to use my newfound knowledge to make more ritual out of lighting the candles.

I was deeply surprised when all I did was light a stick of incense before saying the blessings over lighting the menorah, and my experience transformed into something intense. I smelled the incense and couldn’t help but think about what I’d learned about the Rambam’s commentary that incense in the time of the Temple was about making the Temple smell sweet to pray in after the burning of sacrifices. I thought about what I’d learned about the presence of God being smoke and clouds to the ancient Israelites. I thought about things I’d learned from other places -- hiddur mitzvah (the value of beautifying a practice), and a midrash (parable) about God loving the light and rituals we do in a very personal way simply because they are from us.

Esoteric ritual has often felt to me like exerting effort in making the associations of ingredients work for me. But this was effortless. I was doing something that was entirely my own, solidly founded by the broad and deep study I’d done, by my personal relationship with the concepts, by my identity.

In other words, the power behind this ritual came from knowledge, and the knowledge came from my intimacy with it. And that intimacy was not just with the study I had done -- it was also the process of being surprised in real time by what I was learning through the ritual itself.

Hypnosis gains “power,” in so much as we let ourselves use the term, through these same acts of intimacy towards knowledge. It operates directly based on various ingredients: how much we know about hypnosis theory itself, general psychology, the person we are working with, and ourselves. Hypnosis is a ritual -- it is setting aside special time to do something with a collection of ingredients that you have personal associated meanings with. If you can’t connect to those deeply enough, it won’t reach its full potency.

Knowledge, Perception, and Unconsciousness

One of my favorite concepts to teach in hypnosis is, “A change in perception equates to a change in reality.” This is derived from Erickson by MrDream, and it’s something he and I have had a lot of conversations about to refine. The implication of this is not something as trite as hypnosis having the power to change a person’s perceived reality. It is the concept that if you look at something from a different perspective, you gain various different capabilities.

For example, when you are feeling stuck in a situation and you think about what a close friend of yours would do if they were in your shoes, you gain the capability to see more options, to change your actual view of the reality of the problem and therefore change your actions towards it. In hypnosis, this could be the difference between simply telling someone to relax their legs versus another perspective of telling them to imagine what it would be like if their legs just started relaxing. It could be the idea that when a person does feel relaxation from a simple suggestion, their perception changes on what is happening -- they build more belief in hypnosis, and that belief in turn makes the next suggestions easier to buy into.

Erickson’s model of hypnosis is predicated on the idea that hypnosis itself matters, that hypnosis is a time within which someone’s reality changes. In his ideal hypnotic context, the subject feels like they no longer can expect things to behave as they usually do in their “waking” reality. They are thus opened to many different kinds of new experiences and capabilities. To Erickson, perception matters -- by itself, it’s a primary driving force behind literal change and response.

This ties back to our idea of intimacy -- just as I aim to approach my partners with this profound curiosity, just as I aim to approach Torah, I want to have this intimacy of the unexpected with trance itself. I want to allow myself to be surprised by hypnosis, by the things I don’t yet know about it even after more than a decade and thousands of hours of trance. But more than this, in an Ericksonian sense, simply changing my perspective to this motivation is one of the things that lets me get there.

I went through a guided study class about Shabbat (Judaism’s weekly sabbath of rest) with a partner, and so much of the class was in the abstract that it at times felt difficult for me to latch onto. We were learning all of this background context about a view of Shabbat where instead of spiritually striving and reaching on that day, you come in acting as though your spiritual work -- like your other work -- is “finished.”

In one session, we spent a chunk of time parsing through how we could interpret that as actionable. It felt like it just wasn’t clicking for me -- the midrashic texts weren’t offering enough for me to feel like I could make judgments on questions like, “Does this imply I shouldn’t meditate on Shabbat in this context?”

It wasn’t until I slept on it that I found a very simple piece of the puzzle: putting aside the questions of concrete actions, in an Ericksonian sense, the internal act of shifting my perspective would absolutely change the way I behaved and interacted with the day. It would become more indirect and unconscious -- instead of carefully analyzing my actions as I might with other Shabbat prohibitions on work, I could simply let myself act in ways that fit that perspective of “spiritually resting.”

The abstraction of the class made more sense -- perhaps it wasn’t trying to give us direct answers, but rather create a psychological environment for us that was well-suited to this more unconscious processing. Or rather, in addition to the sort of typical conscious halachic interpretation. If I allow myself an opinion here, I’d say that I care about halacha as actionable, but as always, I tend to care more about feelings and what’s internal.

This also lent credence to ways this class and the class on smoke and ritual changed my experiences. I was not given a set of actions to take, but rather a variety of perspectives that unconsciously made me think and behave differently. The concept of “knowledge is power” is both true and alluring in many different contexts, and yet had often fallen through for me in most ritualistic frameworks. The way that it succeeds, I believe, is when you develop a relationship with knowledge that actually changes your internal perspective and perceptions.

Limitation

With this we return to the concept of models and interpretations. It is serendipitous to be going through these experiences at a time where I am avidly working on my next book -- the thesis of which is that in order for us to progress as hypnotists, we must get comfortable moving fluidly between many differing definitions and frameworks (models) of what hypnosis is and how it works.

It is as the Ericksonian principle would say: If you take a perspective on hypnosis that boils down to “hypnosis is about relaxing the conscious mind,” you will do hypnosis according to that perspective. You will use relaxation-based techniques and make an effort to get someone to think “less consciously.” If you instead take a perspective that is “hypnosis operates based on activation of the conscious mind,” you may do hypnosis that causes someone to think and process in a more stimulating way.

Both and neither are true, and they can coexist. I believe that most models can be useful -- some more useful than others. But the best thing you can do is to not assume that one model is the most correct one -- instead, it is to develop the capacity to work within many at once even while being aware of their boundaries.

Jewish text, in my experience, provides models -- perspectives that themselves give guidance on how to understand things and act. I think especially about midrash and stories that are explicitly intended to fill in the gaps or give an alternate view on something. The question of, “Is there one correct way to do/see things” is more complicated here, but there are areas -- especially in those subtle shifts of mindset for ritual or interpreting text -- where the answer is still “no.”

My time so far in Jewish study supports this in a different way. There is a human element of collaboration and challenge. Learning as we do with a chevruta (study partner) adds another person to the relationship -- it is no longer just between you and the text. There is another human who you are building something with, and it is “intimate” according to our exploratory definition in an even clearer way.

The purpose of a “scene” inside of kink (a “session” of kink play) is to operate in a semi-limited framework -- limitations exist on who is involved, where it begins and ends, how partners communicate, and what themes/topics/activities are involved. These limitations -- though they may be quite broad -- are partially what allow for intense experiences. A scene needs to exist in a different “space” than our daily lives, and it needs to operate by different rules and involve different ingredients. Here, we also see overlaps with the definition of a “ritual.”

This doesn’t just facilitate intensity (and safety) -- it facilitates learning something new about your partner. By taking your relationship and putting it into a limited context, it allows you to observe it in a more careful way, where novel changes can be more obvious.

Studying with a chevruta is much like this. I have had study sessions where my chevruta and I are meeting for the first time and the only thing we are aware of sharing is our desire to dive into a piece of text. I’ve also had chevrutas where we know each other outside of study, and some of our time is schmoozing and catching up. But in all cases, we are limited in scope, and that limitation creates ease of access towards the common goal of expanding our knowledge and relationship with the text. We are focused; we are motivated. We are creating something that we can only create through who we are as individuals and what we are doing as avid learners.

This has surprised me at times with its tenderness and intensity. Building well-founded interpretations with someone is in and of itself very intimate -- not sensually, but humanly. It has given me something I have always wanted -- an intimacy that is pervasive not just in application of knowledge, but in the development of it. A feeling of sacredness and joy from being able to see so many different perspectives.

I long for this connection, this alchemy. Yes, all models are limited. But within those tight, restricting limits is the potential energy of creation.

“And I Must Learn”

There is an infamous story in the Talmud, in Berakhot 62a, where Rav Kahana hides under the bed of his friend Rav Abba. Rav Kahana hears Abba and his wife giggling and starting to have sex, and remarks out loud that Rav Abba is acting like someone who is famished. Rav Abba, mid-sex, understandably says, “Kahana, why the fuck are you under my bed listening to me fuck my wife?” Rav Kahana replies, “It is Torah, and I must learn.”

There was a version of this essay that began with this tale. I am enamored with the vast overlaps I can derive from its briefness: that intimacy can be studied sacredly both as a general concept and specifically with your partner; that we are obligated to learn ourselves, our partners, and general human desire; that there can be a thread of wholeness in every action of your life if you give every action sacred attention.

Even this, though, is a limited-context interpretation. The rabbis of the Talmud were certainly not sex-positive, especially not as we currently use the term. The surrounding triptych of conversations is similarly humorous but seems to comparatively describe sex as dirty or gross, and this bit of text cannot really exist separately from all of the places where there is halacha derived about sex that is about controlling women’s bodies or preventing queer and trans people from being able to live authentically.

But -- we are allowed to interpret like this. We are allowed to play with context and see what we discover.

For me, this is about finding the connections between my actions and my interests; parts of me that synthesize the whole. It is about developing intimacy with Torah, with my learning partners, with my romantic partners; with the people within the writings, with the authors, and with the readers.

Reading Torah is the same as hypnotizing someone is the same being intimate with someone is the same as doing a ritual. All things on a broad enough scale overlap this closely. There is value in this “zooming out” to a wide enough context to see the connections that exist -- just as there is value in celebrating the limitations that arise, models nestled alongside each other, when you “zoom in.”

We need both to be able to treat our learning -- all forms of it -- as something special.

[ineffabildaddy]

i know this may be obvious to a lot of people, but i thought it was worth saying anyway: i love the good omens fandom because it encourages contribution more than any other popular fandom i've been in.

i'm incapable of being a casual fan of anything. it's just not in my nature. i've been in fandom spaces just over a decade - fandoms related to musicians, books, films and tv shows - and yet i've never been in a fandom that captures, creates, analyses, jokes, and just talks more than this one.

in most of the fandoms i've been in, there's a lot of passive consumption of fan content, which is obviously great and we all do it, but in the good omens fandom, that doesn't seem to make up the majority of our behaviour. in fact, when i got back on tumblr for the first time in 7 years after watching season 2, i had a look around at what the fandom was doing for a day or two and my first thought was: oh god, what if i've got nothing to say? what if i've got nothing to add that hasn't already been added? i immediately felt that i wouldn't truly be part of things if i didn't get stuck in.

if i'm fixated on something or particularly enjoying it at one time, i might wake up in the morning or pick up my phone/laptop thinking, i want to see more, hear more, learn more about this thing. that's still the case with good omens, but with the addition of, how can i contribute today? how can i bring something to the fandom, how can i connect with it, how can i consistently encourage and support the people in it? and that's all because of how artistic, analytical, poetic, humorous but above all enthusiastic all of you are.

the truth is, i'm not at all a confident person. i've got a film degree, i've done stand-up comedy and i've written comedy sketches, i was a popular fanfiction writer for years (hi supernatural fans), and i've shared poetry, too. so, i have got experience in things that could make my contributions to fandom spaces worthwhile (not that you need any particular achievements under your belt). yet usually, the fact that people are doing things that i'm doing infinitely better than me puts me off the idea of doing them at all. so, oftentimes i don't do them, or if i do i put them down immediately and keep them private.

i'm still very much experiencing that feeling since becoming active in the good omens fandom, precisely because there's so much talent and dedication here, but i'm trying to ignore it because it feels like everyone who wants to say something is genuinely valued - especially since people who think differently about aspects of the book and show aren't actually fighting with each other or obsessed with proving they're right, which is quite rare in my experiences of fandoms.

it's been really really refreshing to become an active part of this fandom and i do hope it remains that way as more time elapses since season 2 was released. i have a feeling it will because we've all chosen one of the most wonderful stories of our time to engage with, and the fans' love for it was and is taken more seriously by terry, neil, david and michael than we ever could've hoped for.<3

[deathsbestgirl]

okay @calimanc i think i can finally do this!!

first, i tend to think of their relationships in phases. like:

season one: building trust and bonding. they genuinely like each other but it's a process! it takes time to create that bond & partnership. they really create such a good foundation naturally. they don't force it.

seasons two & three: BEST FRIENDS. they trust each other, they love each other, they rely on each other. their roles are set, their bond just gets stronger. season two really sets the tone for true friendship & personal value, not just work.

seasons four & five: it's a Struggle. their relationship is shifting but they're not there yet. it makes things hard but their partnership & friendship are solid. that is not the issue. (although, bad blood is also peak best friends)

season six: tension. surrounding their feelings, trust and getting their shit together lol (genuinely the season of them figuring it out)

season seven forward: THEY ARE IN LOVE. they are all in. s7 they're putting s6 lessons into practice, their communication is improving. s8&9 are hell for them but their love is never the question. coming back to each other is also a process (season seven is them putting the lessons into practice)

iwtb: married. everything is good & terrible. they are haunted, always haunted.

revival: coming back to each other, learning they can be together again despite everything. they never let go and they never will.

i think there's been a lot written about their characters and journeys, at least somewhat related to this. i think i'm recalling some of @randomfoggytiger meta posts about their different struggles, characters, trauma, etc. (the ones i think about a lot: scully teaches mulder to hug, milagro, how the ghosts stole christmas, mulder + s5, mulder / scully family in depths, mulder / scully typing, mulder / scully fight flight freeze — highly recommend, i think foggy puts a lot of things into words that are behind my reasoning)

in the beginning, mulder believes scully is sent as a spy. he's kind but he needles her about aliens, her thesis, her science and she gives back as good as she gets. but scully is so genuine and earnest. she cares about the truth and victims and justice. i've always thought she was excited to work in the field and specifically with mulder. whatever she thought of his spooky moniker, she also knew he was a brilliant man & a good agent. she was prepared to learn from him, regardless of what their cases would be. i don't think she believed all the rumors, i think she's intimately familiar with the rumor mill. and scully always had more of an open mind than anyone gives her credit for.

SO she spends the pilot trying to solve their case and get as much information out of him as possible, she wants him to trust her and she's trying to show him that he can. scully's got him chasing after her on their second? day on the case. she shows him real vulnerability, and imo, a tendency to believe despite her skepticism. and that's when he starts to give her a real chance. mulder's smile when she runs into his arms says sooooo much. AND THEN!!! he is vulnerable with her. he tells her about samantha & it's all he cares about. and she takes him at his word.

to me, this is something that sets the tone for most of their relationship. scully follows him because of his passion and belief, because she believed him when he said the truth was out there. she accepted that work was what mattered most to him and despite her crush, she chose to stay and follow him. she makes that decision over & over again. even when he makes her crazy, even when he gets himself into insane situations. and season one is all about building their trust, radicalizing scully. already before the end of season one, they trust only each other. mulder may show that trust slowly, taking bigger chances with her as time goes on. sharing the personal, letting her know about his informants, introducing her to his friends & eventually deep throat...he listens to her advice, her skepticism, her science and he genuinely appreciates it even if it frustrates him a lot. like when he thanks her in e.b.e., he's frustrated but it's real. he was listening. he recognizes her value to the x files and himself by season two. that conversation in sleepless about 'oh yeah, it's great. i don't know how i put up with you for so long' and 'i learned that from you' and 'i still have my work, and i still have you. and i still have myself.' and this is the "safe" territory for them. they know how to work together and they understand what that means. or they think they do, until scully is abducted and the stakes are raised. (kae wrote about mulder recognizing love in loss once. that's always really stuck with me.) mulder's guilt complex runs high. it's a huge part of his reaction in never again, scully's "my life" and 'we're not even going in circles, just an endless line' and "not everything is about you" is piercing in a very specific way to him. in that moment at the end, they choose silence and it persists for a long time. as does the way they talk around their feelings, their relationship. and mulder specifically is very avoidant. he makes several comments throughout their partnership about her leaving, not wanting to ruin her record or hold her back. and it's just so crazy, because scully eventually tells him that she holds him back, he doesn't need her. scully wants to be needed, and mulder wants her to stay but he 'doesn't want to see her hurt.'

the whole point is they put the work first, their partnership. it was a conscious choice. eventually we learn they both had relationships with people they worked with. i really do think it would make both of them hesitate to get involved with a work partner. generally speaking, scully is a "rule follower" but she doesn't have a problem breaking rules when she thinks it's justified, when she believes it's the right thing to do. no matter who's instincts she's listening to. that's a pattern we see very early on.

THEN they get so comfortable in their roles, believer mulder & skeptic scully, that later on as those things start to shift, they're afraid to change. mulder tells scully her science saved him over & over and in season six she clings to that (completely misunderstanding what he ~really meant, like kae talked about). season six is all about them figuring out what a relationship between them would mean.

but by that point, they had started to figure out some of their own issues. like in never again, scully is struggling with her patterns. so she does something she doesn't do often (i don't think one night stands are ooc, but they're not necessarily her norm. it seems like a periodic thing she may do when she gets That feeling.) scully needs to know she matters, she needs to see her impact. in never again, after paper hearts & el mundo gira, i think she's really hurting in that respect. she doesn't see at this point the impact she's had on mulder or as an agent. you can't tell she works in that office -- no desk, no nameplate, barely any personal items. just some books. initially, they're having two conversations and only partially aware of it. at the end, mulder doesn't seem to understand the issue, but at the end of leonard betts, mulder validates scully. verbally!! directly to her!! he starts to get it. they're not very good at talking directly, that's why never again and the cancer arc, and after, are so difficult. they talk about everything with metaphors, or they're okay sharing little pieces of them. their trauma & pain when forced to.

and season five is ... fraught. as so many other times, but scully nearly died and mulder feels guilty. randomfoggytiger talks about mulder in season 5 here. and the thing about these two, they're traumatized over & over again and they just keep going. but they are deeply affected. i've talked about how not okay scully is, and it takes her so much time to freely lean on mulder. she relies on him & their work, but she doesn't necessarily let him in too far. she holds people at a distance, she's so aware of loss & death and the effects of it, like she talks about in emily. and it isn't really that they need to work through their trauma. it's so much more about letting someone help shoulder the burdens, see them vulnerable. they do that and they do it for each other freely & often. but...for scully, she's always the strong one. she isn't really, but she thinks she has to be. she doesn't want to be another crusade for mulder, someone else he needs to protect. but at the same time, that's what partners do. she takes that "job" very seriously and so does mulder. (but so early on, it isn't because it's part of their job. i think that's extremely clear with scully in tooms & e.b.e., mulder's reaction in lazarus, to her abduction. you can see the progression so clearly.) but they can't protect each other from everything. mulder couldn't save her from being abducted, getting cancer, emily, or being burned alive...scully can't protect him from what happened to samantha. and that's a hard truth. it's something they accept for themselves as fbi agents, but is nearly impossible for them to accept for their partner. it's why scully threatens boggs, why mulder wants revenge on the men responsible for her abduction, why they go as far as they do for each other. they are relentless. (for mulder, he's always blaming himself. often, he wants to protect scully from himself even though he isn't the danger. he isn't the one harming her and he knows how far scully would go. like in endgame 'why didn't you tell me?' 'because i knew you wouldn't let me go through with it' and he runs off on his own because he doesn't want her to risk her life for his crusade, for the answer he needs & seeks.)

and season six!! it's so special because scully knows she's important, he gave her a whole speech about it. they nearly kissed. but they don't talk about it, the silence is maintained in favor of their partnership. and season six is a special brand of putting them in situations. at certain points, their partnership & trust are tested and leading up to those points, they tend to show how solid they really are. like in drive, when their communication is cut off but scully can understand that mulder is avoiding the police traps for a reason and he knows she'll catch onto the clues he manages to drop & that she's working hard to figure out the science/medicine, that she's doing the legwork on their cases that she always does. scully's asking him to get out of the car, but not to abandon it and they spend most of the season slowly putting together a blueprint for a relationship between them. knowing there are feelings between them, on both sides, completely reciprocated but it's a struggle. they learn something, and it's erased. or like the lesson in the unnatural, it takes a while for them to really get it. to put it into practice more consistently. there's a new freedom after one son too, with most of the syndicate killed at the hands of their own stupidity. and literally, neither of them can actually let go because the x files is both of their lives, they both have a very significant stake in the work and that will always connect them. (no matter how they're forced away from it at different points, no matter how they hesitate sometimes.) but it's also always deeper than that. because "you made me a whole person" wasn't just true of mulder. scully is never more herself than she is with mulder. i've said it a few times, but the x files was scully's dream job lol not only does she get to use everything in her arsenal, but she cares & she can be weird & a little mean. mulder gave her a very special kind of safety. scully loved teasing him for his beliefs, she always found it endearing and i just. think that's for a reason. he believes what she can't, and she believes what he can't. (you know, my usual)

i just think about the difference between all souls & all things. mulder is terrified of scully's believe in all souls, but in all souls, he interprets her words through her faith. he wasn't afraid. it was from a distance in all things, but she's also talking about a man she considered the love her life & might have married. but scully's sitting on his couch telling him all about it.

in the revival, scully comes back to the x files for mulder. but she's the one loving the case in mulder & scully meet the weremonster. and where mulder's disbelief & cynicism in the patient x/the red and the black scare her, she's not afraid of it weremonster. she kindly tries to guide him back to it, or rather, gives him the opportunity to find it himself. like he helps her light the candles & talks to god through her in nothing lasts forever. they're not really together but they're always together. it's always about working through something, understanding themselves & each other, and accepting/embracing some truth. like in all things, "what if there was only one choice?" in a way, there is only one choice. the one they made over & over. scully in squeeze & tooms & little green men, mulder in one breath & redux & requiem. all their choices lead to the other, and they almost mourn other choices. but scully would do it all again, she wouldn't change a thing. mulder can't do it alone and there's hope. the truth they both know. the only one they know.