#Genuine Marketing Techniques

[legendarymarketer]

Finding Success - This Will Make A Huge Difference - Warning! SimilarChannels.com 1000 Subs Min

[pearlprincess02]

dating & dates (virgo version)

virgo: (virgo venus/mars/5th house/7th house)

when dating someone with virgo venus, virgo mars, virgo in the 5th house, and virgo in the 7th house, expect a relationship built on thoughtfulness, consistency, and deep emotional investment. they may not be the most overtly romantic, but they show love through acts of service, attention to detail, and genuine care. they appreciate reliability, intelligence, and a sense of purpose in relationships, valuing partners who are grounded and communicative. while they can be reserved initially, once they trust you, they become incredibly loyal and attentive. virgo venus expresses love through small but meaningful actions. they value stability and practical support over grand gestures, wanting a relationship that feels productive and secure. virgo mars is intentional in their desires, preferring a slow-burn attraction that builds over time. they enjoy a partner who stimulates them mentally and shares their appreciation for effort and routine. virgo 5th house finds joy in structured fun, intellectual activities, and anything that engages their analytical side. they prefer dates that involve learning, improving, or experiencing something meaningful together. virgo 7th house seeks a dependable and communicative partner. they want a relationship that feels like a true partnership, where both people actively contribute to growth and success.

date night ideas

cooking a healthy meal together at home, going on a scenic nature walk with deep conversations, visiting a farmers’ market & picking out ingredients for a meal, touring a botanical garden/greenhouse, going stargazing with a telescope & a cozy blanket, finding a cozy hidden gem restaurant with fresh, clean ingredients (virgo venus, virgo 5th house) organizing a cozy home spa day for each other, volunteering together at an animal shelter/community event, trying out a meditation/yoga class together, planning & organizing a fun weekend getaway, taking a day to declutter & reorganize a space together, attending a wellness retreat/self-improvement seminar, having a detailed planning session for future goals & dreams, taking a budget-friendly yet well-organized road trip (virgo venus, virgo 7th house) taking a skill-building class (cooking, pottery, coding, etc.), a bookstore date where you pick books for each other, going on a quiet coffee shop date with a good discussion, visiting a museum/historical site, working on a creative project together (scrapbooking, diy home decor, etc.), spending a quiet evening at home doing puzzles/brain games (virgo mars, virgo 5th house)

over 18+ spicy bonus🔞

virgo: (virgo mars/cupido/eros/lust/amor)

someone with virgo mars, virgo cupido, virgo eros, virgo lust, and virgo amor approaches intimacy with a mix of precision, attentiveness, and sensuality. they might not seem outwardly wild at first, but behind closed doors, they are deeply invested in perfecting pleasure, ensuring that every touch, movement, and sensation is intentional. they value a strong mental connection and are highly responsive to subtle cues, making them incredibly intuitive lovers. cleanliness, control, and technique are essential—they want to master their partner’s body and take pleasure in both giving and receiving satisfaction. virgo mars has a methodical and skillful approach, ensuring that every encounter is fulfilling and satisfying. they enjoy a mix of control and service, focusing on their partner’s pleasure as much as their own. virgo cupido thrives on subtle seduction, teasing, and the build-up of tension. they love the game of attraction and are most aroused when there is an element of anticipation. virgo eros seeks perfection in intimacy, valuing detailed exploration and sensual precision. they have a refined, almost ritualistic approach, making every experience feel like a masterpiece. virgo lust enjoys controlled indulgence, balancing restraint and release. they might have a fascination with discipline and delayed gratification, savoring the anticipation before fully giving in. virgo amor ties love and devotion to intimacy, needing an emotional connection alongside physical passion. they express care through touch and are deeply attuned to their partner’s desires.

kinks you might have

intellectual foreplay (dirty talk that stimulates the mind) (virgo mars, virgo cupido, virgo eros) teasing & edging (prolonged pleasure, slow build-up), power dynamics (soft dominance, service-oriented roles), silent control (giving subtle, non-verbal commands), discipline play (controlled restraint & release) (virgo mars, virgo cupido, virgo lust) sensory play (blindfolds, temperature play, textures), oral fixation (both giving & receiving with precision), perfected technique (enjoying skillful execution of pleasure), positioning & precision (strategic movement for optimal pleasure), analytical experimentation (trying different methods to maximize pleasure) (virgo mars, virgo eros, virgo lust) obsession with detail (memorizing partner’s body & reactions), aftercare & nurturing post-intimacy rituals, clean & sensual experiences (pristine sheets, freshly showered bodies), erotic massage (using touch as a form of foreplay & connection), hypersensitivity to partner’s needs & reactions, private but intense (intimate settings over exhibitionism), ritualistic intimacy (structured foreplay, setting the perfect mood), loyalty kink (exclusive devotion to one person, deeply personal intimacy) (virgo mars, virgo eros, virgo amor) lingerie & visual appeal (aesthetic presentation matters) (virgo cupido, virgo eros, virgo lust) heightened sensitivity (breath play, light feather touches, whispered words) (virgo cupido, virgo eros, virgo amor)

all observations are done by me !!! @pearlprincess02

main masterlist

[elsecrytt]

okay NEW curse technique concept: love conquers all!

your technique straight up alters reality. it will heal you or others, kill or harm people in any specific way, you can travel quickly, produce objects/food/etc. out of nowhere, whatever you want.

however. you can only do it if you genuinely believe it will make your loved one happy. otherwise you are just a regular person.

if you're not in love with someone, you're an ordinary person.

thankfully (?) you're a bleeding heart romantic and you fall in love pretty often! you might be shallow at first but your desire to pursue a relationship and get to know your crush is 100% sincere!

for added comic effect, you do not know what curses are and are unaware of your cursed technique. you just know that you're super capable whenever you're doing it ~for love~

unfortunately, when you fell in love with satoru gojo, he pretty much immediately shot you down.

commitment issues, sorcerer problems, yada yada. he could tell that you were genuine with your feelings, too, and satoru does do hookups but he's not a total asshole.

satoru being LITERALLY the luckiest person ever - six eyes, limitless, ridiculously tall and beautiful, talented students and powerful allies - and he's handed an instant win ticket to life in the form of your undying love and devotion and he just tosses it out LMAOOO.

so you go through your heartbreak phase, grieve for a while, and of course eventually get back on the market.

and you find him! the kindest, most considerate, respectful man alive.

he's a bit of a workaholic, but he's unbelievably polite and sincere, and every bit of understanding you show him is repaid tenfold.

seriously. he was late for a date once because of work, texting ahead twenty minutes and apologizing profusely, showing up with flowers and a thousand "I'm so sorry, my superior at work was a bit unreasonable - he works hard, too, though. I'll plan better in advance!"

when you smile and hug him and accept his apologies easily, you can see him holding back tears, a giant load releases his shoulders.

the more you learn about his work, though, the more you realize it's his only flaw. it's not even his fault!

his superior is just this giant asshole. "he works very hard, he's excellent at his job" your fucking ASS, why should your man have to put in constant overtime to drive his ass around?

apparently he had to drive three hours to pick up some sweets. kikufuku, of all things, from this one specialty store in another prefecture, just for his stupid coworker -

it pisses you off!

so when ichiji arrives for your date one day, nervous, with his unreasonable coworker in tow - well, you're shocked to see that you recognize him.

satoru, of course, immediately gloats that he recognizes ichiji's precious girlfriend - she even asked him out, once, before!

internally, he supposes it's kind of nice that you found someone better suited for commitment. although ichiji really doesn't deserve someone as good-looking as you -

SLAP!

he stares, dumbfounded, his cheek red and stinging. something strange curling in his chest at your vicious glare.

"You're Ichiji's shitty coworker?" You growl, "I'm glad you turned me down. Don't ever bully my man again, or you're dead meat."

holy shit, satoru thinks to himself as you snarl at him, ichiji panicking, trying to hold you back.

dead meat. holy shit, he actually believes you.

-

obviously from there the plan would be enemies to lovers, with the requisite comedy and pining on gojo's part about having let you go the first time.

you have a very strict policy of never EVER pursuing someone who turns you down (you don't know this, but it's actually a condition of your cursed technique). but satoru will find out - that doesn't stop him from pursuing you.

unfortunately, you're also unbelievably prideful, and still very in love with ichiji (who himself is struggling with a sense of inferiority which will eventually tank your relationship).

so gojo gets his ass beat on multiple occasions,,, watching in awe as you do thinks even he can't, and doubly flabbergasted when you insist you're not doing anything particularly weird.

you punch through his infinity? "are you telling me you think you're a wizard with an invisible force field around yourself? seriously?" cursed spirits? "is this a cult?? ichiji is your coworker in a CULT?" his hollow purple doesn't leave a scratch "i mean, was it supposed to?"

god i'm just feeling the comedy these days. i need to make fun of these silly little guys in this silly little manga, i love them so much

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day one: daddy kink

>>> welcome to the start of kinktober 2023 with ya girl, kylee. i'm so excited to participate this year, with the following that i have, the friends i've made, and the stories we've all worked on so far. i'm so proud of every writer putting in that work this month!

>>> starring: kento nanami x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: daddy kink-obviously-breeding kink, choking, clit stimulation, marking/ biting mention. creampie, nanami is such a whipped man it's borderline concerning, luv him 5ever >>>wc: 1.6k >>> event masterlist

the air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, making you gasp out and struggle for breath. or it was due to the thick hand wrapped around your neck, strong and steady against your jumping pulse. he wasn’t like this often, so pent up with need and frustration that kento can’t help but rut into you like he was told he’d never get the chance to again.  his tanned chest heaves with breath, beads of sweat running in and out of the divots of his body. he looks so stunning like this, the honey blond tresses that you love to tug on so much sprawl in every direction, brown eyes zeroed in on every tick of your brow or ‘o’ of your mouth. his gaze was intense, and even if you wanted to look away, you couldn’t. not with his hand on your throat and every ounce of passion in his body driving into your cunt as hard as he can slam in. 

“you take me so well, darling.” he coos, pulling his hand from your neck in favor of pushing your thighs to your chest. he wanted to get a better angle, smiling to himself with a genuine pride as he watches your pretty pink hole swallow his fat cock, silken walls squeezing down on his lengthy shaft everytime it kisses your womb. he can’t help but draw well-timed circles across your clit, relishing the sweet gasps and moans you cry out with. your hands claw at his shoulders to demand him closer to you, and he hisses pleasantly at the sensation. 

“it’s ‘cause you’re made for me, daddy.” you whimper sweetly in his ear, and he’s almost embarrassed at how your saccharine whisper makes his dick jump, his brutal strokes stuttering a bit. your nails dig into his skin and your pussy clenches down on him again as you say it, and he kicks his pace up impossibly faster. his cock is perfect, hitting every spot just right, his girth stretching you every time, usually abusing your cervix like it is now. 

it was no secret he loved that name. loved it to such an extent that you called him that more often than his real name or any other pet name one would traditionally use for their husband–and it started way before you tied the knot. kento nanami hadn’t ever particularly felt special before in his entire life. not even amongst sorcerers. he thought his cursed technique was decent at best, and hated seeing talented sorcerers like satoru gojo walk around without a care in the world. nanami never felt like he had a role in life, settling to just live and work his life away. he would go home and watch shows or cook or maybe get into music–something mindless and low effort. maybe one day he would meet some average lady, probably at a market or bookstore if he had to say. then he would marry that girl and be happy enough. maybe even have a couple of kids while he works at that same job and does his best to stay out of trouble no matter the part of his rebel soul that desires to be known, to be important–necessary. 

so when he met you, the very personification of trouble, by happenstance, he knew his worldview had changed. you were a light he had never seen before, exquisite beauty paired with a bewitching personality and dangerous wit, he was in love with you before he had gotten your name. it was so utterly unlike him, such a logician and pessimist. he didn’t even know how you had wandered in, this location was veiled to non-sorcerers, but kento knew by the looks of you that you weren’t supposed to be there. so he’s surprised when he finds himself protecting you, knowing such a little thing like yourself had somehow bypassed the veil had him worried about you, and as much as he tried to tell himself he would be this concerned for any regular citizen that had wandered into a cursed trap, he knows it’s because he wants to be your hero, and he wants to matter in your story, maybe even become part of it himself. and you’re sweet. so darling he can’t even comprehend how quickly he’s become entranced by you. you talk to him through the entire mission, unable to see the cursed spirits yourself, you can only follow the tall man’s instructions, and clap whenever he waved you back to his side and straightened his patterned tie. 

he thought it was adorable, and even though you had no idea what he was doing, quite literally watching him slash through air with nothing but the foreboding sense of evil confirming the things the man named kento nanami told you about citizens and sorcerers and cursed energy and spirits. you praised him after, thanking him for keeping you safe. you bat your eyelashes at him, the affection in your eyes hard to miss. it was as if you thought the world of him, and it put a paralyzing grip on his heart. he had to see you again, and luckily you tucked your phone into the palm of his hand and smiled that same sun-moon-and-stars smile at him before he summoned the courage to ask for it himself. he programs his contact into your phone, but just the number. he hands it back to you, still on the contact page. you giggle and under the guise of flirtatious joking, put him in as ‘baby daddy.’ 

yeah, you were certainly a bundle of trouble. but kento took pleasure in undoing you layer by layer, getting to know you and growing his love for you day by day. the ‘joke’ of calling him daddy became a very real theme inside and outside the bedroom–only paused when in public. he finally had a role in life, the way you shower him in affection and lull that name off your lips is enough to make him feel whole, like every transgression he had experienced up to this point was a destination on the journey to be your perfect man, someone you put all your trust and love into. he felt like the most important man in the world, being by your side was the greatest reward a man like him could ask for. he had more than he had hoped for, but there was still a few goals left on his list, like seeing himself become your real baby daddy. 

with the way your tits bounce as he fucks into you, cunt squelching and leaking all over the sheets, he thinks this is the perfect time to really try. your sultry babblings of his name prickle goosebumps into his flesh–either that or it’s from your nails raking over his chest to pinch his overly sensitive nipples. his cock twitches against your spongy spot again, and a loud moan tears from your throat. he doesn’t repress the grunt that comes in response, nodding his head to the words that had been on repeat since you said them. “it’s ‘cause you’re made for me, daddy.” 

“that’s my girl, are you ready to be my little baby mama? tell daddy what you want, angel.” he says, withdrawing from your gripping walls  and slamming back in so hard your vision danced with colored orbs, mouth unable to form the words you so desperately wanted to say to him. you nod, feeling trails of saliva slide down your chin, drooling as he brutalizes your cunt. “use your words, darling, daddy needs to hear what you need.” 

“i’m ready daddy, please–god, wanna make you a daddy for real, i’ll give you the prettiest family, i swear!” you cry, the rate at which you spasm around him and claw at his chest tells him that you’re gonna cum again, for maybe the fifth time tonight. you’re so lewd; the sounds you make and the pretty white ring being smeared around by your pussy lips swallowing the adornement back up again and the way your doll-like hands fondle your tits all combining perilously to tip him over the edge.

“i know you are, love. i know, i’ll make sure of it, you know daddy’s got you.” he coos, planting his lips along your neck, going back over dark bruises and teeth marks from the night of passion. then  his balls tighten and his release spurts into you in long bursts, and he feels your pussy throbs and let a stream of cum spray from your cunt, coating his abs in more of your essence then he had ever had the pleasure of before. his smile is wolf-like, his cock still plugging you full. he wants to take you up on it, breeding you to be your baby daddy once and for all. you’re fucked out of your mind, legs twitching with pleasure as you continue to whine and catch your breath. he watches you, everything about your post-orgasm glow making his heart swell as always. you were effortlessly perfect, it was maddening. 

he keeps your hole stopped up until his dick softens, and even then he’s pulling your panties back up, kissing your clit over the bundle. he quickly cleans his stomach up and changes the sheets around you, picking you up when need be. he’s still grinning ear to ear from making you cum like that, so many times and so violently. you’re absolute mush, and because he’s such a good daddy, he’ll spend the rest of the night taking care of his baby girl.

[whitegownsandflowercrowns]

I’m reading the lawsuit now. I’m not sure. How can I tell if it’s legit vs lies?

Genuine thanks for this question and not just immediately assuming that she's lying.

Look, at the end of the day, none of us were there. The only people that know what truly went down are the people that were on that set (which is true of any lawsuit), but here's what's really convincing me.

First things first, Baldoni hired Melissa Nathan back in August to run his public relations (and this article even mentions the allegations that he made Lively uncomfortable). Nathan worked for Johnny Depp during his defamation trial against Amber Heard, and it has been found that a technique called "astroturfing" was used against Heard on social media during this trial. Astroturfing is defined as "the deceptive practice of presenting an orchestrated marketing or public relations campaign in the guise of unsolicited comments from members of the public." Basically, artificially creating hate or hype for a public figure but making it seem organic. If you remember the Depp/Heard trial, you remember how much social media seemed to turn against her. If you remember this summer, you remember how much social media seemed to turn against Blake Lively. The fact that the same public relations team was on the other side of both alleged smear campaigns is a red flag.

Second, the text messages that have been released between Baldoni and the PR team are, in my opinion, incredibly damning. One member of the team, Jennifer Abel, texted Nathan "I think you guys need to be tough and show the strength of what you guys can do in these scenarios. He wants to feel like she can be buried." Nathan responded "Of course - but you know when we send over documents we can't send over the work we will or could do because that could get us in a lot of trouble. We can't write we will destroy her. Imagine if a document saying all the things that he wants ends up in the wrong hands. You know we can bury anyone." Right below are some screenshots from the New York Times article:

Later texts also involve praise for this article

Now, is it possible that all of these texts have been faked? Of course. But they are also lengthy (I did not include all of them here) and considering what I mentioned above, unlikely.

Thirdly, I'm just considering who has more to gain from this. I will admit my own bias here - I've never bought the idea that women by and large make allegations to become rich or famous or to gain sympathy. Amber Heard is probably still one of the most hated women on the planet. Name five of Bill Cosby's accusers off of the top of your head.

But what does each party have to gain? If Baldoni loses this case and is found in the public eye to have sexually harassed the women on the set of It Ends With Us, that's probably the end of his career. As far as I know, he doesn't have the industry goodwill that Roman Polanski or Woody Allen or even Johnny Depp do, and he will most likely start losing acting and directing roles. If he wins, and the public decides that Lively is lying, his career won't be destroyed. It will almost certainly have been set back, and there will always be people who'll look at him differently, but overall he should be fine. He may even gain a new fanbase.

If Lively loses this case and is found to have been lying, her career is tarnished forever. She will undoubtedly be known as the "next Amber Heard," and she will lose out on acting roles. The taint may even carry over to her husband. If she wins, and the public decides that Baldoni did in fact sexually harass women on set, she will probably be fine. Like Baldoni, there will always be people who'll believe that she was lying, but she'll be overall fine. However, it's important to note that she had a third option: to not pursue this at all. If she chooses not to pursue legal action against Baldoni, both of their careers remain unimpacted. While there would still have been a negative public perception of her, it probably would have blown over eventually. A lawsuit and possible trial is much more permanent in people's memories. So to me, the fact that she's choosing to pursue this knowing what the outcome of her losing would be speaks volumes.

Finally, the fact that her lawsuit states that other women on set were harassed and felt uncomfortable. Again, could be a lie, but that is a lie that is very easy to disprove. And if the women who worked on this set testify that they never felt uncomfortable, that will permanently damage her case. It just feels like too much of a risk to play with if you're lying.

Of course, don't just take my word for it - do your own research, seek out differing opinions, etc. but those are my views. I hope they helped in some way!

[ko-existing]

a lot of y’all are really heartless people cause the way you say ‘don’t take any of this as real’ when you don’t know what others are experiencing at the moment or how difficult it is for them. someone could be in a very abusive environment and if they ask you for advice on how to change the circumstance, y’all reply rudely by telling them to follow loa or a manifestation blog. instead of giving genuine advice, y’all call it trauma dumping when others are just stating their situations where “just be” is quite hard to do when they are in a flight or fight mode.

you anons have this interesting but very weird misconception that the lives of "bloggers" were sunshine and rainbows from the start, where does that idea come from

If someone reads a hundred posts combined from multiple blogs and still decides to chase whatever they are chasing and demands a manual of a simple direct philosophy to change whatever it is they want to change, isn't going back to LOA the only thing bloggers can tell them if that's literally what they're looking and asking for?

The belief of being a tangible Person with Rules and Methods has no place here.

If that's something you do not understand, there's nothing on this blog that will satisfy you. And that's fine, no one is holding you here Telling you there's no manual is not right ; Telling you to go back to LOA is also not right

So.. what is right?

You're demanding something this blog doesn't provide.

It's like if I went to a regular german market and asked for Tsampa. I'm demanding something they don't have so, they'll redirect me to a Tibetan or Ethiopian store online because of what I asked. If I get mad afterwards that they did it, that's illogical. They told me exactly where I can find Tsampa.

We (all blogs you're referring to) told you exactly where you can find your rules and techniques.

It has nothing to do with being heartless, it's a fact that there is nothing we can say that you want to hear because if we did, it's not correct and purely limited. "Oh, do ABC to get XYZ" is absolutely false here.

We have said million times that this whole thing has to be noticed by yourself, no one can notice it for you or do anything else. How did we get to this conclusion? It's Direct Experience.

If you don't want to, then continue somewhere else? What do you think bloggers did? Woke up on a tuesday afternoon and started talking on tumblr about something they heard on weibo?

It's Direct Experience.

To quote an old post I made:

"A Tibetan saying goes, “You can lead a horse to water, but it has to drink on its own.”

We can point to this simplicity, but each person has to see it directly. So if you’re here, seeking rules and steps to follow, that approach won’t apply here. We’re not here to hand you instructions on how to "xyz". This isn’t a thing with techniques or guides. Instead, it’s a direct recognition, beyond all structures, beyond “how-to” or “why.” If you’re expecting someone to hold your hand, you’ll only end up feeling frustrated. This freedom is already yours, and only you can recognize that for yourself."

[kremlin]

i actually do know who needs to hear this, it’s most people, in fact, it’s likely you, statistically; we are entering the american election campaign season, and there are caveats i’d like you to be aware of, and to that effect, i am cashing in on my many years of demonstrated knowledge about The Computer.

you indeed cannot trust what you read on the internet. someone will, indeed, go on here and tell lies. this is no shocker to you, you know this, i know this, i know you know this, but i insist you think about it.

you must know my beliefs regarding conspiracy theories fall far, far to one side of the spectrum: i do not believe them. i dismiss them out of hand on principle. axiomatically. and i am here today to tell you the concept, existence, execution, and proximity of paid, phony, engagement-manipulated, political advertisement is not only real, it is the status quo.

would you describe yourself to others as:

A.) smarter than than they think you are

or

B.) not as dumb as they think you are

if you responded with option A, you are more than likely to be greatly more susceptible to these underhanded messages than you think. option B respondent’s outlook is brighter, only relatively. to restate this in a more digestible way, there are two wolves inside you, one takes top-voted comments to reddit posts on face value. the other, takes top-voted comments to reddit posts on face value. you take top-voted comments to reddit posts on face value.

those responsible for such comments are effective in their endeavors, because they think about it. they do not approach their work mystically nor inefficiently. they know what to say to you, because they know what language you speak.

a thoughtless individual would read one of the only proper noun phrases in this post, “american election season”, and limit their perspective to exactly two possible entities to watch out for. this individual has, with a pep in their step and a whistle on their lips, stepped directly on a land mine. maybe this individual was you, if so, don’t sweat it, allow me to yank you away at the last moment by your shirt collar. there's tertiary actors at play, and possibly even more, if only we could invent a word that mean's "the fourth thing" and so on

a very large, very easily guessable country has, for some time now, engaged in organized astroturfing or misinformation or disinformation or whatever-you-want-to-call-it campaigns, to great effect, with their angle being to flood the airwaves with so much conflicting information that you, the individual, feel hopeless, and lose your confidence in discerning truth from fiction.

i use this example not because that country or my country or this election or whatever is a key component here, they're not, this applies to everyone using the internet socially, and if you don't think there are disingenuous actors' words appearing on your computer screen at some regular rate, you're also stepping on a landmine.

you just have to think about things, and maybe, from time to time, turn on an electric stove and put your finger on it to remind yourself that there is indeed a very real, objective reality we live in, and that if you find yourself asking, "how can we see if our eyes aren't real", someone has put rats in your head

it goes beyond just politics though, hell, i would describe all of modern marketing to use essentially these same tricks. don't fall for them! my technique is to just approach any written text found online, most especially "comments", with the same utter hater energy as salieri in amadeus.

and hey, while you're at it, pass this thinking along to kids, they're kind-of the first generation that has to deal with an internet that is mostly ingenuine meaningless bullshit, not like we had it, when it was mostly genuine meaningless bullshit.

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

Sh*t has hit the fan in equestrian sport and I genuinely wonder if this is the beginning of the end of it's social license to operate.

I used to respect Charlotte Dujardin as "one of the kinder riders out there". Sadly it seems like this was all just marketing. She just happened to have a horse like Valegro that tolerated her harsh handling (she described him as "hard mouthed" which is a pretty good indication that he had poor training to start with).

But she was the golden girl of dressage and the UK's darling of the sport. Now the curtain is peeled back to reveal casual whipping of a horse's legs over 24 times, commenting how the whip "doesn't whip hard enough."

Methodical and not at all seeming angry or disregulated while the 15 year old on the panicked horse's back cries out. This is not a one off. It's a technique. I've seen it before. Instuctors that chase after "lazy" horses in riding schools with a whip so that the horse "doesn't get away with it."

What about horses getting chased around a round yard with a whip until rearing in panic and lathered up in sweat? I've seen that too, during an equine science program where we were supposed to be learning how to break in weanlings.

It just happens to be a Olympic gold medalist doing it and getting caught.

In the article it says "you can't force a 400-500kg animal to do something." You absolutely can and horses are regularly forced into things they don't want to do. They're flighty prey animals. They say "no" pretty clearly in competition rings but then the whip comes out, the spurs go on and the horse shuts down. Despite the blue tongues from lack of oxygen, mouths strapped shut with tight nosebands, bits that they can't escape from, froth and blood in their mouths, they continue. Because they have no choice.

When your training principle relies on negative reinforcement and positive punishment, escalation like this inevitably occurs. When your training principle is based in domiance, on "not letting them get away with it" and on "making them do it", this is where it goes. The horse's autonomy and feelings diminished into "naughty" or "just trying to be lazy" ... not fear or pain or just a simple struggle to do something they're not physically able to do.

And it becomes normalised, laughed off and accepted, especially when a gold medalist Olympian does it.

The only reason this is a scandal is because an elite rider got caught doing it. But this is not a one off or a "bad apple" this is what the entire traditional horse training model is based on.

The FEI is making a big show of this because they want to look tough on horse welfare so the Olympics doesn't throw out Equestrian sport. But just wait until the dressage kicks off. We will see the same tense, stressed out horses, toe flicking and hollow with hop-step piaffes that are an insult to the Classic masters of old.

The sport of dressage will crash and burn if it continues on its current trajectory. Equestrian sport will follow as a whole when the public realises these are not animals "enjoying their jobs". Unless the FEI allows for a huge paradigm shift where people can compete tackless and use positive reinforcement (actual +R and not the pathetic pat on the neck they pass off as +R), the sport will fall to ruin and the elites will have only themselves to blame.

[ticklystuff]

12-Nov?

a/n: IT'S THEIR ANNIVERSARY

---

"Zhongli, w-wait! Let's talk about this!"

Ajax loves Zhongli, he swears! He loves starting every morning waking up beside Zhongli, loves the way Zhongli's body curls into him at the crack of dawn, loves the touch of Zhongli's skin against his lips as he kisses him awake. He loves the intertwining scents of Zhongli's tea mixing with his morning coffee that fills the little kitchen, loves admiring the precision of his chopsticks at work as he finishes the breakfast Ajax prepared, loves the saccharine feeling that creeps into his head the moment Zhongli's voice begins to ramble.

"A-Ah!" A cracked squeal rang through the room as Ajax was tossed onto the mattress straight out of Zhongli's arms, stunning him for a brief second, only for his senses to snap back to him, gulping nervously as Zhongli towered over from the end of the bed, the smallest he's ever felt under his judgmental gaze.

Ajax loves Zhongli, he swears! He loves Zhongli's smile when Ajax brings his favorite snacks, loves the subtle sparkle in his eyes when Ajax recalls specific Liyue history, loves the way Zhongli will entertain his sparring requests. He loves the endless amount of knowledge stored in Zhongli's pretty head as the two peruse the stalls of Liyue's markets, loves getting to see Zhongli again at the end of a tired work day, loves the genuine elation on Zhongli's face when their anniversary rolls around—

Ah, well, about that...

"I- pfft—!" His red cheeks puffed comically, the curious hand having made its presence against the thin white shirt. Ajax trembled under its touch, feeling the little taps that tested the surface, crafting the next course of action, knowing full well what was to come. "X-Xiansheng, wait, wait!" Bouts of panicked giggles slipped through his mouth as Zhongli's fingers drummed methodically, steadily increasing in frequency as if toying with him and his impotency. "I-I'm sohohohorry! Xiahahansheheheng!"

Ajaz loves Zhongli, he swears, he swears, heswearsheswearsheswears—!

"A-Ah! AhahahaHAHAhaha! No— no! NohoHO! ZhohonglihiHIHIHI!"

"For someone at the peak of their youth, you do seem to have trouble remembering important dates," Zhongli tutted, not that Ajax possessed the bandwidth to comprehend the other's words in the moment, preoccupied with the hands that incessantly squeezed at his sides in sharp precise manner with the specific purpose to drive Ajax up the wall, ungodly squeals of laughter and pleas filling the room. "But rest assured, I doubt you will forget next time."

Because Zhongli loves Ajax, he promises. He loves starting every morning waking up next to Ajax, loves curling into Ajax's body at the crack of dawn, loves the touch of his lips against his skin as Ajax kisses him awake. He loves the intertwining scents of Ajax's coffee mixing with his morning tea that fills the little kitchen, loves watching Ajax prepare breakfast for two, loves the little smiles that Ajax gives him during his rambles.

Becuase Zhongli loves Ajax, he promises. He loves when Ajax remembers his favorite snacks, loves when Ajax remembers specific details about Liyue's history, loves when Ajax remembers certain sparring techniques that Zhongli has taught him in the past. He loves when Ajax remembers the specific stalls Zhongli likes to peruse, loves when Ajax remembers to stay late for him during a tired work day..

And Zhongli loves Ajax, even when he has to remind him of their anniversary.

[squarebracketsmileyface]

hot take; although Brian is a total sweetums, i just KNOW he’s a Petty Crocker when it comes to his family. i have a distinct vision of someone being rude/transphobic/generally Stinky towards his partners or kids, and Brian manages to ‘accidentally’ run over their toes with his wheelchair (bonus points if they’re wearing open toed shoes). i also see him responding to some bigot with that sweet smile and accent with, ‘I’m sorry the devil has made a home in your heart and filled you with such hatred. I’ll pray for you :)’ because nothing shuts up (southern) christians by having their religion flung right back in their faces :) he doesnt key people’s cars or anything, he just finds subtle ways to inconvenience them OR give them a particularly brutal comeback to whatever they say lol

i feel like Tim doesn’t like confrontation and therefore avoids it when he can, Lark’s so anxiety-ridden that she just shuts down, so its ‘well this looks like a job for me’ for Brian, the unsuspecting fella in a wheelchair 😎 and he naturally goes on to teach Birdie his methods, so people get outsmarted/made a fool of by a little girl wearing an oversized hoodie and big green glasses 🤩

Oh you're SO right. I fucking love that. He 100% uses Christianity against the shitty Christians who are homophobic or ableist or transphobic or just anything. He has the technique PERFECTED. He's so fucking good at it, and he looks like a pretty cishet guy, so if he's on his own especially and he pulls that shit no one's gonna discredit him like "well he's a freak he's just saying that to try and get at me thinking he's clever" he's exactly the kinda guy they could see at their church, so it genuinely gives them pause, because here's this completely sensible man who clearly has a good head on his shoulders and is everything they claim people should be (especially if they don't know he's married to a man) so seeing HIM use "his" and their religion against them really sends them grinding to a halt and actually thinking about it.

Tim definitely avoids confrontation, but he also knows it wouldn't necessarily work the same way for him. If someone doesn't know he's queer in any way it'd definitely work, like, they'd take him seriously. But if for whatever reason they know he's trans (maybe doctor or whatever reason) then they'd just discredit whatever he said to refute them automatically.

It works the BEST for Birdie tho. I think she's a good little actor and has her age on her side, people see this little girl, completely earnest as she says she'll pray for them. Because she's a kid, and children are pure and have good hearts, and she's looking at them and (presumably) thinking "this isn't how my god says we should treat people" and that'd REALLY get to them. There's nothing better for making you re-evaluate everything you've ever said or done than a little kid saying one little thing that jabs you right between the eyes. Birdie knows how to ham it up, too, how to look like she really truly believes that something horrible is hurting these poor people's souls and that her little kid prayers to god will help them get better.

Also in super markets if someone is rude Brian will just subtly get in their way so bad, sit right in front of them with his breaks on while he weighs up all the porridge options or something shit just to make them have to go around him. Or he'll scooch in right where they wanna go and make them WAIT. He's so annoying with it, as he should be.

OR

He'll go out of his way to ask them for help, make them spend time with him helping him get something from a high shelf, and talk about his religion and how "can you believe the hateful people out here calling themselves Christian only to turn around and attack our queer brothers and sisters? Utterly ridiculous" and he'll try his best to make them agree with him that "yes it's awful that people like that deign to call themselves Christians, isn't it?" Because he's so reasonable about it all, he doesn't hate those people, doesn't get angry about it, just sounds so genuinely saddened that these people use his religion to hurt people

[drewharrisonwriter]

Lifeline - Ch. 7: Volunteer

Pairings: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader, referred to as “Honey” 

Series Summary: After basically being dropped and rejected by every PR agency in Hollywood for being such a huge liability, Dieter Bravo must work on resetting his public image in the most unexpected ways.

Author's Notes: I have been working on this fic on and off for the past year, and this story is a little personal to me. Yes, I am trauma dumping in some scenes lol but I also want to say that there will be so many unrealistic things about Hollywood, actors, and PR/Marketing agencies here, to which I apologize.

Warnings: Angst, a little drama, lots of flashbacks. More warnings to come as the story progresses.

Read this on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dieter sat in his car, the engine still running as he stared at the community center across the street. He told himself he was just killing time, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. The last time he’d been here, it was a scheduled appearance, something Honey had set up as part of his image rehab. But today, he was here on his own, drawn back by something he couldn’t quite name. It was quieter this time, the mid-afternoon lull making the building look almost inviting.

He turned off the engine and got out, adjusting his baseball cap to shield his face even though no one here would care who he was. As he stepped inside, the familiar sounds of kids laughing and chattering hit him—a soundtrack of life that felt miles away from the empty echo of his house.

“Back for round two?” Sam, the young volunteer with colorful streaks in her hair, greeted him with a bright smile from behind the front desk. She handed him a volunteer badge without hesitation, her eyes sparkling with a mix of surprise and genuine delight. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

“Yeah, well…” Dieter shrugged, sliding the badge over his head. “Turns out I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Sam laughed, a sound that cut through the cloud of self-deprecation hanging over him. “Well, we’re glad you’re here. The kids love having you around. And hey, it beats sitting at home, right?”

Dieter nodded, grateful for her easy acceptance. “Definitely better than that.”

He made his way toward the art room, the familiar hum of activity pulling him in. Maria, the art instructor, was already busy explaining today’s project to a group of kids gathered around her. When she spotted Dieter, she gave him a knowing smile.

“Well, look who decided to join us again,” Maria said, handing him a brush without missing a beat. “Couldn’t stay away?”

Dieter chuckled, feeling strangely at ease. “Guess I missed the glitter.”

Maria laughed, shaking her head. “We’ve got plenty of that. Today’s project is murals—big, messy, and colorful. The kids are painting scenes that we’ll hang in the main hall. Feel like jumping in?”

“Yeah,” Dieter said, looking around at the kids already deep in their work. “Sounds good.”

Dieter settled in at a table with a few kids who were busy painting what looked like a wild, chaotic sunset. The youngest, a girl no older than six, was splattering paint with unrestrained joy, her tiny hands covered in bright red and orange streaks.

“You know, when you do that,” Dieter said, leaning over and pointing at her brush, “it’s called the Jackson Pollock technique. He was this artist who used to just throw paint at a canvas and see what happened.”

The girl looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Is that okay? To just throw it?”

“Absolutely,” Dieter nodded. “It’s called ‘action painting.’ There’s no wrong way to do art. It’s about how it makes you feel.”

She beamed at him, flicking more paint across her canvas with newfound confidence. Dieter laughed, feeling a lightness he hadn’t in a long time.

As he continued to paint, Dieter found himself explaining bits and pieces of art history in a way the kids could grasp. He pointed out how to make colors blend softly together, sharing dumbed-down versions of famous artists’ techniques that he’d picked up over the years. He helped one boy, who was struggling to make the sun look realistic, by showing him how to use a sponge to create soft, fading edges.

“This is called blending,” Dieter explained, guiding the boy’s hand. “See how it makes the colors look like they’re melting into each other? It’s kind of like magic.”

The boy looked up at him, eyes bright. “Cool! You’re like an art wizard or something.”

Dieter laughed, the boy’s innocent enthusiasm infectious. “Yeah, something like that.”

Ethan, the freckle-faced kid who had called him out as “that guy from the movies” the last time, sidled up next to Dieter. He held a brush in one hand, eyeing Dieter with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

“You’re back,” Ethan said, stating it like a fact rather than a question.

“Guess I am,” Dieter replied, smirking. “Didn’t think you’d care.”

Ethan shrugged, dipping his brush into a jar of blue paint. “It’s just… I thought you were, like, famous. Don’t you have better things to do?”

Dieter paused, considering the boy’s question. “Honestly? Not really. I like it here. It’s different. You guys don’t care about who I am or what I’ve done, and that feels… kinda nice.”

Ethan glanced at him, then nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. We’re just painting. Nobody here cares about all that stuff.”

“Exactly,” Dieter agreed, feeling a warmth spread in his chest. “So, what are you working on?”

Ethan held up his canvas, showing off a messy but earnest attempt at a landscape. “I’m trying to paint a beach, but it’s not coming out right.”

Dieter studied the painting, then picked up a brush. “You ever heard of Monet? He used to paint outside, trying to capture light in different ways. It didn’t have to look perfect—it just had to feel like the place. See how the light hits the water here? Try adding some lighter blues and yellows to give it that shimmer.”

Ethan nodded, following Dieter’s advice with focused determination. As the boy worked, Dieter found himself slipping into a rhythm, his own brush moving across his canvas without much thought. The act of creating, the feel of paint under his fingers—it was like slipping into a familiar old coat. But today, surrounded by these kids, it felt even better. Almost… happy.

“You’re really good at this,” Ethan said after a while, watching Dieter paint. “Like, really good.”

Dieter smiled, genuinely touched by the kid’s sincerity. “Thanks, buddy. I’ve been doing it a long time.”

“Did you ever want to be an artist instead of an actor?” Ethan asked, his voice innocent and curious.

Dieter hesitated, his brush hovering over the canvas. “Yeah. Once upon a time. I just… I dunno. Life kind of went a different way.”

Ethan shrugged, as if that made perfect sense. “You could still be both.”

Dieter chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, you might be right.”

As the hours slipped by, Dieter helped the kids finish their murals, showing them how to add finishing touches and clean up their brushes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this light, this connected. He wasn’t just Dieter Bravo, the troubled actor. He was a guy sharing his love for art with kids who didn’t see him as a failure, but as someone who could teach them something cool.

As the class wound down, Maria approached him again, her expression warm. “You’ve got a real way with them, you know? They love having you here.”

Dieter rubbed the back of his neck, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, well… I like it too. Makes me feel… useful, I guess.”

Maria nodded, her gaze soft. “We could always use more hands. If you want to make this a regular thing, the door’s always open.”

Dieter glanced around the room, taking in the kids’ excited faces as they admired their finished work. For a moment, he let himself imagine it—coming back week after week, being part of something that felt real and untainted by all the noise of his other life.

“Yeah,” Dieter said finally, his voice quiet. “I’ll think about it.”

As he stepped outside, Dieter found himself lingering by his car, not quite ready to leave. He watched as parents arrived to pick up their kids, the joyful reunions filled with laughter and hugs. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing, something he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge in years. Watching these families, Dieter found himself yearning for something he’d always been too afraid to admit he wanted—a family of his own. Kids to share his love of art with, to teach about blending colors and painting the world as they saw it.

He let his mind drift, imagining a simpler life. He saw himself finger-painting with a toddler, their hands covered in bright splashes of color, laughter echoing through a sunlit room. He pictured little feet running across hardwood floors, paint-splattered smocks, and the soft, sweet chaos of family life. He imagined a wife—someone to share quiet evenings and messy mornings with, someone to laugh with when the kids got more paint on themselves than the canvas.

And no matter how hard he tried, no matter who he had been with all these years, it was still Honey’s face that he saw. Still the only person he’d seriously considered that life with. Honey, with her warm smile and the way she’d always believed in him, even when he couldn’t believe in himself. The vision hit him so deeply, it almost knocked the breath out of him.

Dieter shook his head, trying to clear the daydream. But the ache lingered, a deep, relentless pull that left him feeling hollow. He wanted that life—he wanted it with her, and he’d never been able to replace that image, no matter how many parties, flings, or late-night mistakes he’d made.

The familiar urge to drown his feelings in booze and drugs started to claw at him. The thought of numbing this pain, even just for a little while, felt so tempting. But as he glanced back at the community center, at the kids streaming out, waving their painted hands in the air, something inside him shifted. He didn’t want to run away, not this time.

Instead of driving to the nearest liquor store, Dieter decided he’d head home and do some art. Maybe he’d paint the mural he saw in his mind—the one with bright splashes of color, little hands, and warm smiles. For once, he wouldn’t try to escape the image of Honey and the life he’d almost had. He’d paint it, live in it for just a while longer, and let it be enough.

Dieter climbed into his car, feeling a strange mix of sadness and resolve. Today had been a small step, but it was something. And maybe that was enough to keep going. For now, he’d let his art be his escape, and maybe one day, it would lead him somewhere that felt like home.

Dieter stared at the half-finished painting in his living room, brush in hand, lost in the muddled colors that had started to take the shape of his earlier daydream. The quiet of his home felt stifling, the only sound the soft scrape of his brush against the canvas. He couldn’t get the image out of his head—tiny hands covered in paint, a warm laugh echoing in a sunlit room. The longing hit him like a sucker punch.

As he painted, his phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a text from Honey. He blinked, wiping his hands on a rag before picking it up.

Honey: Hey, are you doing okay?

Dieter stared at the message, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t a question she’d asked casually; he could sense the weight behind it, the quiet concern she was trying to mask. He hesitated, thumb hovering over the keyboard before he finally replied.

Dieter: Been better. You free to talk?

Almost immediately, his phone rang. Dieter glanced at the screen, seeing Honey’s name and photo—the same one from years ago, back when things were simpler. He answered, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Honey,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was no hiding the exhaustion.

“Hey,” Honey replied, her tone soft and slightly hesitant. “I just… I don’t know. I had this feeling. Mitch told me you’ve been laying low, and I wanted to check in.”

Dieter let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, laying low. That’s one way to put it.”

“How are you really?” Honey asked, her voice gentle but firm, cutting through the usual bullshit.

Dieter sighed, staring at his painting, the colors blending into something both beautiful and painful. “I went back to the community center today. Not because I had to—just… I don’t know. It felt good to be there. Felt like I was actually doing something worthwhile for once.”

Honey paused, absorbing his words. “You went on your own? Outside of our usual PR stuff?”

Dieter nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah. No cameras, no Mitch, no nothing. Just me and the kids.”

“That’s great, Dieter,” Honey said, sounding genuinely pleased but with a hint of professional detachment, at least she tried to make it sound that way. “I’m proud of you. I really am. This kind of genuine engagement is exactly what people need to see from you. It shows a side that’s not just a headline.”

“Yeah, well, don’t start throwing a parade just yet,” Dieter muttered, his tone half-joking but tinged with sincerity. “It’s weird, you know? Being around those kids. They don’t care who I am or what I’ve done. They just… they just want to paint.”

Honey’s silence on the other end was loaded, as if she was trying to find the right words. “I get it. Sometimes it’s the simple stuff that hits the hardest.”

Dieter nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “I keep thinking about what it’d be like, you know? Having that... a family. I watched those kids today, and I just… I don’t know. It felt good. And then I started thinking about—” He cut himself off, his throat tightening, he cleared it. “Never mind.”

“No, go on,” Honey urged gently, her voice laced with that familiar warmth. “You can tell me.”

Dieter swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “I started thinking about what it’d be like to have my own kids. Like, actually teaching them how to paint, showing them all the art stuff that I love. I know it’s stupid, but… I’ve never really let myself think about it in a very long time.”

“It’s not stupid,” Honey said, her voice softer now, almost wistful. “I think it’s really sweet, actually. I always thought you’d make a great dad.”

Dieter chuckled, but it was tinged with sadness. “Yeah, well, you’re probably the only one who thinks that.”

Honey’s silence spoke volumes, and when she finally responded, her tone coming off as a bit nostalgic, almost dreamy in a way. “You remember that time we were in that art supply store, and you spent like half an hour teaching that kid how to mix colors?”

Dieter laughed, the memory coming back vividly. “Yeah. His mom thought I worked there.”

“You were so patient with him,” Honey continued, her voice distant but fond. “It was the first time I really saw that side of you—the part that just lights up when you’re teaching someone about art.”

Dieter let the silence hang between them for a moment, absorbing her words. “I don’t feel that way about a lot of things anymore. But being with those kids today… I don’t know, it felt real.”

Honey’s breath hitched, the sound almost imperceptible. “I’m glad you went back. I think it’s good for you, PR stuff or not.”

“Yeah,” Dieter said, staring at his unfinished painting, the colors blurring together in his vision. “It’s just… it’s hard, you know? Thinking about what I could’ve had. I mean, I wanted that life with… I wanted it once. I thought about it a lot, actually.”

Honey’s end went quiet, the only sound the faint rustling of papers as she shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t think you did, Dieter...”

There was a pause, heavy with everything unsaid between them. Dieter took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his confession sink in. “Do you ever… I mean, do you ever think about what might’ve happened if we’d tried harder? Stayed together?”

Honey hesitated, her voice thick with emotion when she finally spoke. “I do. All the time. I think about what might’ve been different, what we could’ve had… but we can’t live in the past.”

Dieter rubbed his temples, frustration bubbling up inside him. “I know that, Honey. But sometimes it feels like the past is all I’ve got left. I’m trying—I’m really trying to be better, to get my shit together, but I don’t know how to stop feeling like I missed my chance.”

“You haven’t missed it,” Honey said firmly. “You’re still here, Dieter… you still have a lot of things going for you, especially what you did today… And that’s more than a lot of people can say.”

Dieter let out a breath, feeling a small, stubborn flicker of hope ignite in his chest. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, neither of them rushing to end the call. It felt like old times, like the nights they’d stayed up talking about their dreams and fears, wrapped up in each other’s arms. It was bittersweet, knowing that those days were gone, but tonight, just hearing her voice was enough. It felt the same way but not quite… but it was enough. 

“Hey,” Dieter said, breaking the quiet. “Would you… I don’t know. Would you wanna meet up? We could grab coffee or go for a walk. No pressure. I just... I miss talking to you in person.”

Honey was quiet for a moment, contemplating his question, then sighed softly. “Yeah, okay. I think I’d like that.”

Dieter’s heart lifted, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “How about tomorrow? We could meet at that little park near the community center. It’s quiet, no one will bother us.”

“Tomorrow sounds good,” Honey agreed, her voice softening. “See you then, Dieter.”

“See you, Honey.”

Dieter hung up, staring at the phone in his hand. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had something to look forward to.

–

The next day, Dieter arrived at the park early, his nerves buzzing with anticipation. He hadn’t seen Honey outside of their work meetings and PR crises in what felt like forever, and the idea of just being around her, with no agenda, filled him with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

He spotted her from a distance, dressed in a simple, casual outfit—jeans, a light sweater, and her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked effortlessly beautiful, and for a moment, Dieter was struck by how much he’d missed seeing her like this, outside the polished veneer of her professional life.

“Hey,” Honey greeted as she approached, her smile warm but tinged with uncertainty. “Been a while since we’ve done this.”

Dieter smiled, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah. Too long.”

They started walking, keeping an easy pace along the park’s winding path. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light on the ground as they made their way past a small pond where ducks floated lazily.

“So,” Honey said, breaking the silence. “How’s the painting coming along? You mentioned you were working on something last night.”

Dieter let out a soft laugh. “It’s… it’s a mess, honestly. But it feels good. I’ve been trying to paint this thing I saw in my head yesterday at the community center. Kids, bright colors, just… happiness. It’s not coming out quite right, but I’m getting there.”

“I’d love to see it sometime,” Honey said, her voice sincere. “I mean, if you’d be okay with that.”

“Yeah,” Dieter nodded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I’d like that. You were always my favorite critic.”

Honey chuckled, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. “I was always fair.”

They continued walking, their conversation shifting effortlessly between lighthearted banter and deeper reflections. Dieter found himself telling Honey about the kids at the center, how teaching them made him feel more alive than he had in years.

“They don’t judge, you know?” Dieter said, his voice tinged with wonder. “They just see a guy who likes to paint. It’s like... I get to be the best version of myself with them.”

Honey nodded, watching him intently. “You deserve to feel that way, Dieter. And I’m glad you’re finding it, even if it’s in a place you didn’t expect.”

Dieter stopped, turning to face her fully. “You always saw that in me. Even when I couldn’t.”

Honey looked at him, her expression softening. “Give people a chance, Dieter. They’ll see you, too… Not the actor, not the scandals. Just you.”

Dieter’s chest tightened, the truth of her words hitting him hard. He’d spent so much time running from himself, but with Honey, he always felt seen in a way that was both terrifying and comforting.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said last night,” Dieter admitted, his voice low. “About how we can’t live in the past. But sometimes, it’s the only place I feel safe.”

Honey reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. “You don’t have to stay there, though. You can look back, but you also have to keep moving forward. And you’re doing that, even if it’s through little things.” 

Dieter swallowed, his throat tight. “I want to be better, Honey. Not just for me, but… I don’t know. I keep thinking about this life I want, and I don’t want to mess it up before I even get close.”

Honey’s eyes softened, filled with a mix of hope and something else Dieter couldn’t quite place. “You’re not going to mess it up. You’ve already taken the hardest step—deciding you want something more.”

They stood there, the moment stretching between them, filled with all the things they couldn’t quite say. Dieter felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance, to hold her the way he used to, but he held back, afraid of pushing too far, too fast.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Dieter said finally, his voice tinged with gratitude. “I know it’s not easy… being around me.”

Honey smiled, shaking her head. “It’s not easy staying away, either. And… I’ll see you at our next PR event, okay? We still have a lot to sort out there, and the world is still watching.”

Dieter nodded, appreciating her ability to bring him back down to earth without breaking the connection they’d just shared. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Promise.”

As they walked back to their cars, Dieter hesitated, then reached out, his fingers brushing hers lightly. Honey glanced at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears, and squeezed his hand gently before letting go.

“See you soon?” Dieter asked, his voice hopeful.

“Yeah,” Honey said, her smile soft and real. “See you soon.”

Dieter watched her drive away, feeling a strange mix of sadness and hope. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel completely lost. He had no idea what the future held, but with Honey back in his life, even in this small way, it felt like he was finally on the right path.

As he got into his car, Dieter glanced at the community center down the street, a small smile tugging at his lips. He’d be back. He’d keep painting, keep showing up, and maybe, just maybe, he’d figure out how to piece his life together again—one brushstroke at a time.

Tagging: @mysterious-moonstruck-musings for this update ^_^ if you want to be tagged for the next one, just drop a comment ^_^

[legendarymarketer]

Hey there, it's Anders Larsson and today's video is an essential guide to making an informed decision in the world of affiliate marketing. So why am I sharing this? Because, as a digital content creator, it is important that you know which affiliate marketing platforms can pave the way for sustainable streams of passive income. The video discusses CPAGrip versus CPAbuild—two giants in the affiliate marketing industry. If you're feeling lost or overwhelmed with the numerous options out there, don't worry; I've done the research for you. Today, we'll be taking a look at how these platforms differ in terms of monetization tools, CPA offers, real-time tracking, and especially user-generated templates. Watch the video to know the full story....

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

I’m the #1 “Meta Knight can cook” truther btw. Before I even knew that the English dub of the anime changed the scene completely from a serious moment about war making Sword and Blade envious of domestic lives to a scene making fun of Meta Knight’s cooking, I still denied the idea that he is helpless with food.

I like to think that Meta Knight is a alien and (because of implications in the anime) he has visited many, many planets in the past. He has learned the cooking methods and techniques and recipes of ten different alien civilizations. Possibly even more.

When traveling in deep space on the Halberd for months, he does not always got to choose the food he resupplies with. They do not have the luxury of going “oh I want a apple” when visiting a market ten galaxies away from the Gamble Galaxy. ESPECIALLY since many fruit and veg from the Gamble Galaxy is prohibited from trade in fear that blights like Dark Matter will spread through trade. It is VITAL to the survival of himself and his crew to have a expansive knowledge about alien foods.

He is a renowned culinary genius on Bleepy Star because he figured out how to make the Blorpy Blink Fruit edible and it solved world hunger on that planet. This guy has eaten many alien meats and fruits and slimes and he has also figured out how to make the best desserts from those ingredients too.

However. Meta Knight’s VERY alien taste in food and his very, very out of this world method of cooking makes Popstar residents who have never had off-planet food question what Meta Knight is doing. They genuinely think he can not cook. Everyone on Popstar is genuinely convinced he is a shit cook. When they learned that Meta Knight has never seen a humble wooden spoon (wood is a commodity rarer than diamonds in the universe) but he still insists he can cook, they just think it is denial born out of pride.

Dedede genuinely thought Meta Knight had the worst taste in food until he had dinner with an alien monarch who made the king consider that food outside of Popstar exists.

Meta Knight honestly thinks that Popstar residents have a just okay taste in food, and he often misses the taste of food from beyond this star. However, he will admit that the fruit and dessert on Popstar might be the finest he has tried yet.

This isn’t to say that you can’t have hcs about MK being a complete cooking failure, those are great!! I just love to think beyond “haha funny” sometimes, and think about it in relation to my personal world building! Also it’s funny to imagine that Meta takes everyone on a off-planet trip and they are shocked when his signature inedible slop turns out to be a famous dish across several galaxies.

[castlebyersafterdark]

Vecna caused Hawkins to have an “earthquake” and split, but the way that could have also been caused by Will’s jiggly booty returning to Hawkins 🍑

Mike will have to be careful in S5 cause he might cause more earthquakes when his 🍆 is sliding in and out of those heavenly cheeks

Yall are genuinely insane and I'm so damn obsessed with all of you. Pure poetry. This should be the season summary blurb when you log on to watch season 5 on Netflix. Someone get the marketing team on the phone!!

Just as all pretty boys should be... Imagine his angelic little face with eyes closed, mouth open, as Mike finishes over him. Dripping down his cheeks as his tongue darts out to clean it from his lips. Or a vision of Will a complete mess. Will came first, all over himself, and now his and Mike's come mixes together as Mike finishes over Will's stomach and chest. It's filthy but it's bliss, and Will looks sooooo good messy.

🤣🤣🤣 You... are not incorrect!! Stunning couple, both having those perfect DSL. Big wide smiles, plush lips. Mike's big and Will can stretch that pretty mouth wide. You knowwww he's talented and has all sorts of fantastic tricks and techniques. Mike is his muse for his creativity in more ways than just on the canvas...

Even if Mike's IHOP situation out back isn't likely to change in his lifetime, every booty is a feast. He's got a little peach but it's cute, it's perky, it's got little freckles like the rest of his skin. Will's pinching and biting all of them. He loves everything about Mike. Will loves sitting back and admiring the long expanse of Mike's body, stretched out in front of him in the nude. He's admiring the form of his lover, the stretch of his back, the way bone and muscle shift when he teases and massages. They like to draw it out, with Will very slowly and deliberately fingering Mike, steady hands, artist's fingers. About as luxurious as the act can get. Edging kings...

I think they would say the most ridiculous things when they really get into it. Will begs a lot. Mike has the filthier and more specific mouth, creative with his dirty talk, but Will gets neeeedy and whiny and makes his demands. Harder, harder, Harder. More, more, more. Fuck me, fuck me - as if that's not what Mike is literally doing. 🤭 Mike rolls his eyes and snaps his hips that much deeper and Will loses all coherent words.

[tartanbowtie]

Good Omens Heaven Is a Cult

In Good Omens, Heaven is a cult. A religious cult.

And Aziraphale and Crowley are not on the same page about this.

Crowley was cast out of the cult for (presumably) openly questioning it, and sees it for what it is. He is still deeply traumatised by the experience (we see it with his houseplants, his reactions to rejection, to forgiveness, etc), but he has shed his identity as a cult member entirely. He isn't that angel anymore, nor does he want to be. 

He has been forced to depend on another cult—Hell (which has some elements of a commercial cult, multi-level marketing style)—but very clearly resents having to do so. He isn't a demon by choice, and when Beelzebub offers a deal to welcome the former demon back, he tells them just where they can stick it. 

Aziraphale, on the other hand, still can't admit to himself that it is a cult. He's uncomfortable with Heaven and aware that it isn't nearly as good as it's supposed to be. He has distanced himself from it, but he hasn't left it.

Aziraphale rationalises and makes excuses and uses mental compartmentalisation to deal with the massive cognitive dissonance. While he enjoys the relative freedom he's had after Heaven partly disowns him after Armageddidn't, he is still, deep down, in its clutches. He believes that underneath all the atrocities, Heaven is still "the good guys", and craves being welcomed back, because he still identifies as a cult member an angel.  And he carries his own religious trauma.

This is why he fundamentally can't understand that it is unthinkable for Crowley to return to the cult Heaven, to give up his independence, his identity, and become an obedient cult member angel again. He still thinks that Crowley, deep down, craves to be accepted by the cult again. And he really doesn't understand how hurtful his continued insistence on this is to Crowley. 

Crowley understands all that. He sees it, and he knows that you can't argue with a cult member to make them see that the cult is a cult, that it's toxic. It's something they have to discover for themselves. He knows that trying to force Aziraphale to see is most likely just going alienate him and drive him back into the arms of the cult (although he's so desperate in the final fifteen that he does just that).

He's been trying for 6,000 years to nudge Aziraphale into a position where he can make that discovery and admission, patiently offering the tools Aziraphale needs to get there.

And it seemed he was getting somewhere. Especially after Armageddidn't.

But then the Metatron showed up, expertly using cultish mind-control techniques to reel Aziraphale back into the cult.

Others have described the Metatron's manipulation tactics in great detail (here's a great YT analysis), so I'll just give a few examples here:

"I am your new best friend"; love bombing; threats, over-the-top promises

denigration of the past self; emotional unfreezing; heightened emotion

And finally, information compartmentalization; not letting you see the big picture until you are "ready" to accept it, or it's too late for you to back out (this is where I think the Metatron makes his fatal mistake, but more on that later)

The Metatron skillfully plays on Aziraphale's millennia-long cultish conditioning to sacrifice his own wants and needs for the cult's Greater Good, his inferiority complex, and his genuine desire to protect and make right (he is a guardian angel, after all).

Paradoxically, Aziraphale’s love for Crowley makes him more susceptible to the Metatron's manipulation: He wants to keep Crowley safe, from Heaven (the Metatron's implicit threat), and from Hell's retribution (a danger that was always there, but which has become more tangible after Shax' threats). And as Supreme Archangel, he really believes he would be able to protect Crowley—if they're together in Heaven.

The Metatron's (insincere) offer to restore Crowley as an angel preys on Aziraphale's own guilt at (he believes) having caused Crowley to Fall. He sees a chance to make amends and right a wrong, to restore to Crowley what should never have been taken from him: his rightful place in the cult Heaven. Because as I said, he doesn't understand.

But Crowley doesn't know that this is what's going through Aziraphale's mind. Or, his capacity to understand is effectively short-circuited when Crowley’s own religious trauma makes him think Aziraphale is saying he isn't good enough for Aziraphale the way he is.

Nothing to see here, just an ex-cult member a fallen angel reenacting his religious trauma

Unpacking all the miscommunication going on in the ineffable divorce scene needs its own post or ten, or a hundred. But for the record, I don't believe in the coffee theory, the time-manipulation theory, or the body-swap theory. Or any of the other theories that make this anything other than the heartbreak of two people deeply in love, hurting each other because of a complete breakdown of communication caused by unresolved trauma.

So Crowley drives away, gutted by the experience of laying his heart bare for Aziraphale only to be rejected, and of seeing his life companion choosing the cult over him, of going to the one place he cannot follow. I'm worried for Crowley. Yes, he is, at heart, an optimist. But how will our hero cope?

And Aziraphale is devastated, too, at having his outstretched hand slapped away, at having his own oblique declaration of love denied, at Crowley running away from them, from responsibility, again.

But still, this is where I am hopeful. Because Crowley's patient nudging hasn't been in vain. Aziraphale has already stopped the end of the world once, and he was the one who convinced Crowley to continue fighting long after Crowley would have given up (guardian angel, right?). 

I know, I know. Aziraphale didn't listen when Crowley told him "When Heaven ends life here on Earth, it'll be just as dead as if Hell ended it." But that's because he didn't know, then, what Crowley knew: that this was what Heaven was already planning at that very moment, and that the reason Heaven went after Gabriel was that he tried to stop it (Aziraphale probably still thinks it was for loving a demon, which further colours his thinking). Crowley never had the time to tell him. The Metatron saw to that. It's always too late. 

Or is it?

The Metatron has just told Aziraphale about the Second Coming, sure in his belief that he is "ready" to accept it. But Aziraphale isn't ready. He is appalled, shaken to his core. I think this is the moment the scales fall from his eyes, and he finally allows himself to see that Heaven is a cult. A destructive religious cult. And now, everything clicks into place for him. At last, Crowley's words and actions make sense. And our determined guardian angel starts making his plans.

I don't know what Aziraphale is planning, if he's going to tear down the cult from within. But I think the Metatron is about to find out that evil always contains the seeds of its own destruction.

[lonelychicago]

queerbaiting is a marketing technique for fiction and entertainment in which creators hint at, but then do not depict, same-sex romance or other LGBTQ+ representation.

that's the definition of queerbating. can 911 be called out for queerbating when we have hen and karen? which also they have a whole episode dedicated to them? two black queer women in love?

not to mention that we used to have david and michael as a couple too and even if he barely is there, we also have josh— who's... an openly gay man??

like, i love buddie as much as the next guy but can we genuinely say that 911 is queerbating us?? i'm genuinely asking here, for real.