#I'm am not good at following my own advice

[a-creature-as-bright-as-the-sun]

I went to light a candle to Athena and accidentally said Artemis' name bc my BRAIN is shit and sees them as super similar names. I've have never been genuinely concerned that I fucked up, but oml these are the two scariest goddesses to me 😅😭

[ineffable-romantics]

I have admired the work of the amazing @anotherwellkeptsecret for YEARS, following her originally from the height of my Sherlock obsession all the way until now where she has (to my delight!) crossed over into Good Omens as well.

She also just had a baby!!!! So partly as a congratulations, partly as a thank you for being such an artistic inspiration, and partly so I could practice my own digital art techniques and play with Procreate for the first time, I asked if she would allow me the privilege of coloring some of her favorite pages from her comics while she's on maternity leave. And she said yes!

But she asked me to pick my favorites instead. So I took her at her word and chose one favorite page from each of the ten comics I have saved and loved over the years.

Exactly two weeks later (and in no particular order) here is the final result!! I am so grateful to Kelley for letting me do this, and I have discovered so much about my own style and what I like (excessive lights, apparently lol). I hope you guys like them as much as I do, and please please please go support Kelley's tumblr and Patreon, she absolutely deserves the world. 💕

---

One Night in Bangor (And The World's Your Oyster)

(more art below cut)

Oh What A Night

The Losing Side

(Sequel to Oh What A Night)

Points Of Interest

(Sequel to Oh What A Night and The Losing Side)

Who Wants To Live Forever

That Certain Night

A Romantic Affair

(Sequel to That Certain Night)

As Long As We Both Shall Live

(Sequel to That Certain Night and A Romantic Affair)

Change Of Pace

Temptation Accomplished

[hyperlexichypatia]

Okay, here's my criticism of this post I keep seeing -- and no, it's not what you think. I know, my longtime followers who know the kinds of things I post about a lot are probably thinking, "Oh, I know what their objection is going to be. It's going to be that 18-19 year olds are adults who can date older partners if they choose to." But no, that's not it this time! Yes, I do believe it's fine for young adults to date older adults if they choose to (and am accordingly rolling my eyes at all the "This should go up to 25!" comments in the notes), but. That's not my issue here. In fact, precisely because I believe that young adults dating older adults is morally neutral, I'm not at all concerned about the efficacy of the messaging against it. My concern is that underage minors being in sexual/romantic relationships with adults is actually harmful and dangerous, and therefore young people actually should be warned against it, and this is not an effective warning.

Fellow old people, do y'all remember being 14? At all? Would you have found this warning effective and compelling at that age?

I for sure would not! I did not! Quite the opposite!

Put yourself in the young person's position here. You have no rights. You're treated as someone with no agency. Your parents, teachers, government, and society as a whole treats you as some combination of "nuisance," "ticking time bomb," and "unthinking blob." Developmentally, you're at a phase of life when you should be transitioning to a more adult role, but everyone around you demonizes you for that desire. All your thoughts, feelings, and opinions are dismissed as the inconsequential ravings of Just A Dumb Kid Who Doesn't Know Any Better. You meet someone who treats you with basic human politeness, tells you that he likes you and that you're mature, actually treats you like you have two brain cells to rub together. Of course you're going to be drawn to him. And then when other adults warn you that obviously of course he doesn't really like you, that's impossible, of course you're not really mature, no one could possibly see you that way; actually you're naive and incapable of making your own decisions, and the way your parents/teachers/society treat you is completely justified. Are you going to heed those warnings?

Why are adults absolutely constitutionally incapable of giving good, necessary advice to teenagers without fucking insulting them in the process? Of course teenagers don't listen to it! Why would anyone??

"Oh, well, of course teenagers don't listen, because they're stubborn, and immature, and biologically determined to make bad decisions, which is all the more reason they need to be controlled," say adults, completely oblivious to the actual problem.

When I was a teenager, the big moral panic at the time was teen pregnancy, and we were all inundated with the least effective cautionary tales in the world: "If you get pregnant as a teen, you'll have to leave your parents' care and function as an adult!" Which left every girl who'd intentionally gotten pregnant for the explicit purpose of escaping her abusive parents saying "Yeah, that was the goal." And every girl who was looking for a way of escaping her abusive parents to think "What a great idea!" Today the big moral panic is older partners, but if the appeal of an older partner is that he treats you like someone capable of making your own decisions, why would you be persuaded by a counterargument of "Don't listen to him, of course you're not capable of making your own decisions!"?

Again. I'm saying this because I agree that adults dating minors is a bad thing and that minors should be warned against it. EFFECTIVELY.

That said, this is my advice to any 17-or-younger person being pursued by an 18+-year-old partner: Listen. You deserve so much better than the way society treats you. You deserve to be taken seriously. You deserve to make your own decisions in life. You have a mind of your own, and people should recognize that instead of treating your pesky "free will" as a personal affront or an inconvenient glitch. You can and should think for yourself. You deserve, and I hope you have, relationships with older people who validate those truths about you. However. You are still legally and materially powerless. I don't have to tell you that. You live it every day. Someone older than you -- and therefore, inherently, legally, more powerful than you -- should not be trying to extract things from you. Money, sex, unpaid labor, anything of value. Someone more powerful than you who truly values you, values your friendship, values you as a person, will be mindful of your status and not try to extract anything from you. Cross-age friendships are good. Older people can and should genuinely like and appreciate you, and you can and should genuinely like and appreciate them. But if they try to extract anything from you, run away.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Haechan ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Haechan x f!idol!reader

summary: what better way to promote your new music than to do an interview with your boyfriend?! Does he know that? No!

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You were grinning widely as you sat in the pink chair. You bowed to the camera introducing yourself with an excited smile, "Hi everybody! I'm so excited to be here today. The staff and I have planned a bit of a prank today."

Your friendship with Haechan had started when you debuted. Haechan was one of the first idols around your age that you felt comfortable with. He was funny, nice, and was a good friend. He gave you a lot of advice on how to handle the long days, how to speak up with your company, and how to take care of yourself when it all got to be too much. And perhaps... taking care of yourself meant indulging in your friendship with Haechan, in private and in public.

The fans had surprisingly been pretty cool about both of you being close. It wasn't very often that fans got to see two idols from different companies have a genuine friendship. They liked seeing the two of you play around backstage, the random mention of each other in YouTube vlogs or lives, and the very few and far between posts you shared of each other.

When the edits evolved from 8 whole minutes of the two of you being the best of friends to the both of you being secretly in love for 11 minutes, maybe, just maybe, you both began to see each other in a new way. Maybe you guys went on a date to test the waters and maybe that date meant that the two of you became something more and maybe this video would be one of the first times you both directly acknowledged your romantic relationship. Well, beyond standard wordy posts that your companies put out to disclose your relationship.

You smile at the camera, "today I will be pranking my boyfriend Haechan. He thinks he's doing this interview with someone else and has no clue its me!"

Finally, on the other side of the wall, enters the set and sits himself in the blue chair, "Hello, I am Haechan from NCT. Today I will be using the screen name Sunshine and I am excited to figure out my partner is. I think I'll figure it out very easily."

On your side of the wall you, cup a hand over your mouth to suppress a giggle, "I'm going to be so annoying!"

"Hey," you type, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing.

"Oh, it's starting!" you hear Haechan exclaim. You phone vibrates with a message that reads, 'hey.'

"Geez, he's really boring isn't he? Let's make this more exciting!" You laugh, typing back something you don't think you'd ever tell your boyfriend to his face, "wow, I know this is a handsome man I'm talking to. Tell me, are you handsome?"

Haechan flushes in front of the pink wall with his jaw dropped in shock, "w-what?!"

You calm down a bit, not being as bold with your flirtation so that the both of you could progress the conversation. You both make small talk, talking about base level interests. Then comes the home screen exchange. You'd been preparing for this!

Since no one ever really saw your homescreens, you and Haechan had decided to have cute matching backgrounds, a cute couples selfie you'd taken together. What he didn't know, and you didn't tell him because he was so whiny, was that you had changed it. So he sent you an blurred version of his usual background, a picture of the two of you with you biting his cheek and his eyes screwed shut laughing. You knew the picture well, not only because you lived it but also because you had the picture that followed as your own background before you changed it for this interview.

Haechan's phone dropped from his hands, eyes blown wide in shock again. The staff were busy laughing behind the camera while you sat with a smug smile, listening for his reaction. "Is this real? Is this actually your background?" You read the message that had been sent to you.

"Why wouldn't it be?" You message him back.

Haechan doesn't even look at his phone again, he locks his screen and sets it on his thigh. He groans, rubbing his hands through his hair and over his face, "how do you turn someone down nicely?"

You bite your lip when you hear that. Your plan had worked, your precious Haechan was flushed and embarrassed. You type back, "do you know NCT Haechan? He's so talented and funny. I'm a big fan, are you?"

"Yeah, it couldn't be more obvious," Haechan grumbles, staring at the homescreen. He can't look at any of the apps or notifications because he's staring at his own face! A collage of pictures of him-- only him. Pictures of him from his debut to pictures of him from his last performance.

Maybe he was speaking to some kind of comedian, it was some kind of joke that happened to revolve around him. He'd watched some of these interviews before and it never worked out that one person knew who they were texting and the other didn't. This had to be some kind of strange coincidence.

He somehow expertly turned the conversation around, evading your question and changed the conversation into something more lighthearted. Then comes the first Would You Rather. The question: would you rather make a burping sound while farting or farting sound while burping?

You take a second to think, considering the question then finally send your answer, "I think I'd rather make a farting sound while burping."

"Really?" Haechan replies, "why is that? I mean I agree, but I'm curious to hear your reasoning?"

"Tell me yours first," you reply.

"Well mostly I don't want to feel the rumbling feeling of a burp in my butt," Haechan types out.

"He's so gross," you mutter as you read the screen, "he's such a guy." And yet you type out a message, "wow, that's so manly of you.."

Haechan runs his hand through his hair, "how would someone read that and find it attractive?"

Again, he doesn't address your flirting. He maneuvers around it, he doesn't want to be the guy that hurts yours or anyone's feelings, even a stranger's.

By the time the both of you get to the end of the interview having just sent the most recent pictures in your camera roll to each other, Haechan feels a horrible ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. You had sent him a picture of a flower from some bush outside and he had sent you a picture of the products that had been used on his face before the interview. (He'd sent the picture to you.) How is he going to handle this?!

He looks up from yet another flirty message with a look of unease, "you guys don't do these things with crazy fans right?"

The staff reassure him that no, they absolutely would not ever do anything to put him or anyone else in harm's way. His partner is just a silly person, a jokester.

You, on the other hand, are a ball of excitement to reveal yourself. The time comes to meet your partner, though you already know yours. You prop yourself on the wall, one hand outstretched against the wall and the other on your hip.

Haechan rounds the corner and sees you. You flip your hair, winking at him with a, "hey, handsome."

He falls to his knees, hand clutched over his heart while he lets out a sigh of relief and a loud exaggerated whine, "how could my own lover do this to me?!"

It takes both you and the staff to calm Haechan down, but you eventually get him to sit in the chair of the high top table and get the frown off his face. He's still pouty of course, and he lets you know so, "how could you do this to me?"

"With the help of my managers, your managers, the production here at Kode... duh," you answer, squeezing his knee beneath the table reassuringly.

"You're so funny," he deadpans, "but seriously, I was so stressed that I was going to have to see a real life crazy person and turn them down while maintaining my safety. Thank goodness it was a real life crazy person I already knew."

You shove his shoulder with a laugh, "so you had no clue who it was?"

"Absolutely no clue," Haechan confirms, "I did think that this was going to be easy at first, but you came on so strong that I had to mostly focus on getting us to have a normal, not flirty conversation. Did you have fun stressing me out, my menace?"

"The best time ever," you nod with a proud smile.

Haechan lets out a breathy laugh, more of a soft exhale of air as he pulls your hand up and pressed a kiss against the back of your hand, "I'm never doing an interview with you ever again."

"You say that now, but you're my biggest fan. Don't you want me to be successful? How can I be successful if even my handsome, sunbaenim boyfriend won't help me?" You tease, looking at him with a look all too innocent to be real.

"Oh right. Please make sure to check out my girlfriend's first solo debut. The music is amazing, her voice sounds like angels singing, the music videos are award winning, the outfits are out of this world and there is nothing like it in all the world. Please support her... or I will have to," Haechan states with a fake smile while looking right into the lens of the camera, letting his smile drop into a pleading face for the ending.

"Yes, please make sure to check out my solo! I appreciate it," you smile at the camera, bowing to show your gratitude. While you fulfill your promoting duties you miss the adoring look on Haechan's face. The way his eyes soften and he looks at you with a calm, serene look of love.

You look at him with a soft smile, "can you forgive me for my prank?"

He tugs you into his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, "I can make an exception if you promise this will be the last time you prank me."

"Well, of course," you answer too quickly. A lie, of course.

The conversation between you dwindles down and the two of you take your selfie. You smile brightly at the camera with your head tucked beneath Haechan's chin, Haechan smiles sweetly at the camera with his usual close-lipped smile. It's the first selfie as a romantic couple that anyone will see of the two of you and it makes you slightly nervous, but more than anything you're excited for people to see just a sliver of the dynamic you and Haechan share, the love that's there.

"Thank you to the team at Kode for having us and thank you to the fans in advance for all the love and support. I hope you love it," you smile at the cameras.

The video ends with the screen fading to black, but if fans listen closely, they can hear Haechan reassuring you, "everyone is going to love it, honey. How could they not love anything you do?"

[very-merry-birthday]

Let go

Summary: After a bad hunt, Dean's angry. You help him to relax, and show him how to lose all control.

Warnings: Smut

A/N: "She said take your time, what's the rush? I said baby, I'm a dog, I'm a mutt."

~~~

Dean slammed the door to the impala, you and Sam trailing behind him, broken and bruised. You looked over at Dean as he walked off ahead of you both, the side of his face sporting a purple shiner, a slight limp in his step. You started to follow him before Sam gave you a stern look, a warning to give him some space, and you backed off, letting Dean walk past you into your motel room without so much as a glance.

You heeded his advice for the rest of the day, letting the elder Winchester blow off steam alone while you and Sam sat around in his room, watching awful motel TV. You both tended to your own injuries, before finally breaking and helping one another, Sam bandaging up a particularly bad cut on your back, and you putting two stitches on a wound on his thigh. As he winced in pain, biting down on an old shirt, you thought of the state Dean, who had taken the brunt of the damage, and was now alone, dealing with it himself.

"He'll be alright, you know him." Sam said once you'd finished, watching your expression carefully, he knew what you were thinking.

"I just wish he didn't lock himself away like this."

"He always has- Hey, he knows he can talk to us, to you, he just needs a few hours to remember."

When the evening began encroaching, you gave Sam a warm hug before making your way back to your own room, aware that a tense night has only just started. As you pushed the door open you waited a second to take him in as he laid on the bed, eyes shut, headphones on, deep in thought.

"Baby, you okay?" You spoke out into the room, Dean not hearing you with the headphones on. You walked in, lightly brushing his foot with your hand to get his attention.

His eyes shot open as he sat up straighter, body on high alert. As he realized it was you he allowed himself to relax again, only slightly, pulling the headphones off and giving you a halfhearted smile, "Y' startled me, darlin'."

"Sorry," you held your hands up in mock innocence, "you doing okay?"

He gave you another half smile in response.

"Dean, you know that's not enough, you gotta talk to me."

"I'm okay, I'm fine, just a few bruises, nothing a decent night's sleep won't fix."

You looked at the growing swelling next to his eye and shook your head, "I thought we agreed we were being honest with each other, and-"

"I am being honest!"

"-and right now you're hiding yourself from me, Winchester."

He stood up, wincing slightly in pain from his aching body, "Jesus can you stop this therapy bullshit for one night!?"

A pang of hurt hit you, you knew he didn't mean it, but it didn't make it any kinder, "That's not fair, and you know it."

His face filled with guilt, but he was still angry.

"I'm trying, Dean, every day I try. I give you space, I let you sit in all this pain and anger, and I do it because every now and then you're actually vulnerable with me, but I can't keep trying if you're not going to be honest with me."

He began to raise his voice again, "I'm a fucking soldier, don't you get that? And a fucking good one! And I can only do that if I put my emotions to one side and-"

"You're not a fucking soldier, Dean!" You let your tone match his, "You're allowed to show you're hurting sometimes! Sam needed you today, I needed you, and you shut down again the second we were out of there!"

He finally looked at you properly, looked at how bruised you were, remembering the gash he'd seen on your back. He felt guilt flood him again, speaking more gently, "Sweetheart I'm sorry I-"

"I don't want you to be sorry, I want you to be honest."

He took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking up at you with big wet eyes, "Kept thinking about you, about what I'd do if you got hurt, properly hurt. Or what you'd do if I got hurt."

He paused as he watched for your reaction, his eyes flickering over your face. "You know me, I'd shack up with Sam, we've been hoping you'd be out of the picture soon."

He let out a laugh at your joke, grateful that you'd relieved the tension in the room. "I'm sorry- I'm not used to this, to a relationship, to someone caring about me like this."

"I just want you to know we're here, that we actually want to talk to you, Winchester. We want to hear what you have to say."

"I know baby, I know." He leant forward, pulling you closer to him, his head resting against your chest, breathing you in gently.

"Take off your shirt."

"As much as I'd love to fuck you senseless right now, sweetheart, I'm not sure-"

You rolled your eyes at his comment, "-just take it off you jerk."

He carefully pulled it off, blinking heavily as he adjusted to the pain in his muscles. You took a moment to take him in, his body half bruised, his face ragged with exhaustion.

"You done anything to try and help that situation? Ice pack? Cold water?"

"I'm alright sweetheart I just-"

You shook your head at his martyrdom, kissing his forehead, "Stop talking, relax."

He did as you said. He was used to taking orders, but never from you, and you weren't used to giving them. Dean was in control of everything he could be, and when it came to sex you enjoyed that, but you knew that's not what he needed tonight.

You sat up behind him on the bed, your hands tentatively reaching out to his body, gently gliding over his skin. You began to massage his aching muscles, letting your fingers kneed his tense body. He hummed into the feeling, leaning his head back with his eyes shut.

You leant down to kiss the back of his shoulders, a small trail until you were nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He leant against you, enjoying the feeling of your closeness. He reached up a hand to the back of your head, wanting to touch you, and you pushed him away.

"Baby, I'm okay, let me touch you." He murmured lightly, reaching up his hand again.

You stopped him, kissing up his neck, "Just let go, for one night Winchester, let go." You whispered, lightly kissing at his lobe.

The words sent shivers through him as he pulled his hand away. You kissed his neck heavier, letting your hands stroke over his strong shoulders.

You climbed back off the bed, standing in front of him and lifting his chin with an outstretched finger as he looked up at you with wide eyes. You could tell how desperate he was for you, how hungry he was for your body. Normally he'd grab you, pin you down on the bed, his hands finding every inch of you. After a good hunt he'd love to taste you, to have his head buried between your legs for hours, edging you until you couldn't remember your own name. But right now, as he looked up at you, the pain and anger shedding off his face, you just wanted him to release.

You kneeled in front of him as his eyes followed your movements. You traced a finger up his inner leg, from his calf up to his thigh, the feeling tickling his skin even through his jeans. You reached up to his belt buckle and he smiled down a lopsided smile, enjoying watching you knelt below him. Slowly pulling out his cock, you met his eye, biting your bottom lip with a smile.

He exhaled, his face solid, as you began to gently stroke his length. You stuck your tongue out, licking a light strip along his tip. He groaned, his hand coming up to the back of your head, ready to push you down lower.

You pulled back, looking up at his desperate expression, "Hands behind your back, Winchester, I want to take my time."

He exhaled again, placing his hands behind him on the bed and leaning back. You took his head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as he groaned in pleasure. You started to push your head lower, taking him in your mouth, sucking on his shaft. He rolled his head back, tensing his jaw to hold back a moan.

You pulled your head back, looking up at him until his attention was back on you, "Not good enough, I thought I said I wanted to hear you, no hiding anything tonight."

A playful smile spread across his face as he realized your game. Taking him into your mouth again, you lowered your head, taking him deeper until he was filling you. Then you began sucking again, swallowing down his precum, your tongue pressed against his length. He allowed himself to moan, his breath becoming ragged.

You pulled back momentarily, your voice no louder than a whisper, the words sending vibrations through his core, "Use your words baby, tell me what you're thinking."

He tensed his jaw as he watched you begin to bob your head on his cock, taking him so well. "Uh- right now I'm thinking- that this feels fucking amazing."

You hummed in agreement, nodding your head slightly.

"... And I'm thinking- fuck- I'm thinking your mouth is so fucking good at this-"

You pulled back, licking at his tip, "Good, Winchester, keep going."

He groaned again, "And I'm thinking I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep going like that."

You sped up your movements, treating his cock like a lollipop as your tongue lapped him up, he groaned loudly as you looked back up at him, "In a bit baby, just enjoy what's happening right now, we're not in a rush."

His hand reached up to you again and you pushed him away, looking up at him with stern eyes.

"I'm serious baby," he spoke through gritted teeth, "I'm so fucking close."

You slowed your movements again, taking your mouth off of him as you hand went back to gently stroking him. "Slow down, baby, slow down."

He tensed his jaw again, collapsing back onto the bed, a sigh escaping his lips. You kissed along his inner thigh, tugging at his jeans and underwear to pull them off. He reluctantly shuffled to allow them to fall down his legs, kicking them off from his ankles, and you went back to kissing his leg.

He shut his eyes, overcome with the feeling of your lips on him, his vulnerability, the cold air hitting his body. And then he felt you moving, climbing into a straddle around his waist. He opened his eyes to look up at you, naked and gorgeous in the dim light. He shuffled his body again, with you sat atop him, so he was in the middle of the bed.

He watched you carefully, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as your own hands flowed down your body, grabbing your tits, giving him a show. He leant out to touch you and you lightly slapped his hand away, "No touching, baby."

You stretched out, one hand on your breast, the other making it's way down your body, his eyes trained on you. You pushed it between your legs, gliding over your clit, letting out a loud moan. He let out another groan, hungry for you.

You smiled down at him, moving your hands away and back onto his chest. Then you lifted yourself up slowly, until his tip was just resting at your entrance, and looked down at him again, "You want me?"

He nodded.

"Communication, Winchester, tell me."

"I want you."

"Good." You cooed, your hand stroking lightly over his chest.

"Please?" This wasn't a word Dean had ever used in bed, he was used to getting exactly what he wanted, but it sounded so smooth falling from his lips.

You lowered yourself down onto his length and he rolled his head back, a groan falling out his mouth, his jaw hanging open as he tried to even out his breathing. You slowly started grinding against him, his cock easily filling you up, your walls tight around him.

After moments he looked up at you again, his hand once again trying to reach out to touch you. You gently pushed him away, a warm smile spread across your face, "Behind your head, Winchester, both of them."

He did as you said, putting both his hands up behind him, his face overcome with need. You sped up your movements, only slightly, one hand on his chest to balance yourself, the other reaching back up to your breast, grabbing it the way you had stopped him only moments before.

"Please baby- I wanna touch you." He groaned.

"Not tonight baby, let me make you feel good."

You quickened your pace once again, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, his body beginning to tense. As you grinded you felt his body stimulating your clit, letting out a moan at your own enjoyment. You could feel he was close, his breath becoming laboured, his abdomen beginning to tighten.

"Look at me baby." You whispered, and he did what you said, his eyes gliding over your body, looking between your bouncing tits and his cock buried inside you.

"I'm so close baby-"

"I know, just relax." Your tone was gentle, but firm.

"Please- want you to cum at the same time-"

"Tonight's all about you, just let yourself feel good."

He bit his lip as he looked up at you, his face desperate, his moans needy. He looked back down at your body, at his cock pushing into you, at the way you moved above him, and let himself release.

Rolling his head back and letting out a loud moan, you felt as he came, his body tensing, his mind going clear. You kept grinding against him, wanting to make his pleasure last as long as you could.

As his breathing began to settle you slowed down you movements, until he was looking back up at you again, a meek smile spread across his face. You lifted yourself off of him, sitting back on his stomach, his hands reaching out to your hips as you finally let him touch you. You sat for a moment, taking each other in, his thumb lightly rubbing against your skin, comforting.

"Baby lay down, let me touch you."

"Not tonight, Winchester. Right now we've got to get you some sleep."

He let out an exasperated sigh, knowing you were right but still wanting to feel you. You rolled off of him, laying down next to him, your head on his chest, his heartbeat pounding in your ears.

He kissed your forehead lightly, looking down at you to take your face in as you met his eye. He smiled, "I love you, baby."

"I love you too."

[rcmclachlan]

Am I using the 8x16 spoilers as a way to deal with the loss of my own dad almost three years after the fact? I'll never tell!

+

"They want me to say something."

The warm brick wall pressed up against his back shifts a little, and the bed dips beneath their combined weight with a worrying creak. "'They' who?"

From what feels like miles away, Buck wonders how old the mattress is. Standard advice says to change your mattress every ten years, but he's read you should do it as soon as six. He hopes the bed is relatively new. It's insanely comfortable and he always sleeps so well, not to mention all the memories he's made in it. The very thought of hauling it out to the curb so the city can throw it in a dump makes his eyes prickle for the two-hundredth time in the last half hour.

"You can't get rid of the bed," Buck murmurs, staring at the white dresser across the room. It's the only thing in his direct line of sight. He hates the pulls on it. They're too old to be retro and they make the bureau look like it doesn't belong. "You ate me out for the first time on this bed."

Tommy presses a kiss to his head like he's hiding a sigh in Buck's hair. Which he might be. Buck should probably be annoyed by that but he can't muster up the energy.

"So, those are two very separate ideas," Tommy says. "Let's table the bed thing for now."

Hah. Furniture pun.

"Who wants you to say something?" Tommy's always good at following threads of conversation, no matter how they split and weave into something new. He never loses track of that original stitch.

Buck closes his eyes. "A-Athena. She asked if I would say something. At the uh, the..."

He can't make his mouth shape the word. His teeth dig into his bottom lip and he tries to force air around them, to make the 'F' sound, but something in the back of his throat blocks the way.

"Gotcha," Tommy says simply. The arm slung across Buck's chest tightens like a seatbelt during a hard brake. "Is that... something you're comfortable doing?"

"I don't know," Buck says. "I don't know what I'd even say."

The ugly drawer pulls are starting to look like faces. Screws for eyes, the handles for mouths. The way they curve makes it look like they're laughing. If he asked Tommy to get rid of them, he knows Tommy would immediately head down to the garage to get his electric drill. He'd destroy this antique for Buck without asking him a single question.

Hen thinks he's in shock, but he thinks shock's supposed to wear off after a few hours. It's been almost four days since they got the text from Athena—it's him—and he's still existing outside his own body. Every feeling he's ever felt has been vacuumed out of him. Even when Tommy showed up on his doorstep at the end of the first day, eyes rimmed red and glassy, all Buck could say was, "I've never mourned a dad before. Come to show me how it's done?"

Tommy had wrapped Buck up in his arms and said gently, "I've never mourned a dad, either. I'm just here for you."

Loneliness is a bad reason to get back together with someone. Grief is even worse. He wants to say love is behind his desperate refusals to let Tommy leave the house, even for groceries, but he's not sure if it is. But he also knows that without Tommy's seat belt arm around him, Buck would've flown through the proverbial windshield on day two. Maybe it is love. He vaguely remembers what it felt like.

Maybe he needs to bake something. He'd get out of bed to make lemon tarts, but his bones have dissolved. He's just a sack of skin and blood.

"What would you say?" He stares at the open mouths of the drawer pulls and realizes they're not laughing, but screaming. "If it was your father?"

Tommy leans back a little. Buck tenses, then relaxes when Tommy's mouth smears a kiss over his shoulder.

"Mine? Probably 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust, let's now shove this asshole in the earth's crust.'"

Buck huffs with humor that feels like it's coming from two rooms over. "Seriously."

"Seriously." Buck can feel Tommy shrug. "I have nothing to say to him now and I doubt I'd have anything to say if he was dead. But my situation would be completely different."

"How's that?" Buck thinks about rolling over to see his face so he doesn't have to look at the dresser anymore, but then he remembers he doesn't have any bones. Looks like he's stuck here.

"I'd be burying my father. I'm never going to have to bury a dad."

Buck says nothing for a moment. "They're the same thing."

"They aren't, and you know it."

Thank goodness he's belted in by Tommy's arm, because his mind drives wildly across the country to 25 Elm Street, Hershey, PA, where Phillip Buckley is probably puttering around his office, on the phone with someone at his company who needs advice about how to close some multi-million dollar deal. Buck imagines him freezing mid-step, maybe dropping the phone for a little bit of extra drama, then clutching his chest before collapsing to the floor. He thinks about how he would feel getting the call from Maddie.

Maybe that's the difference. If his father died, he'd feel something. Mild shock, maybe, and probably wistful sorrow, thinking about all the time they'd wasted. He'd fly to Hershey and hug his mom when she cried and stand in the receiving line at Hoover Funeral Home and shake people's hands and thank them when they said they were sorry for his loss.

But the world wouldn't lose its color. It wouldn't feel like Buck's heart was fighting for every beat. He wouldn't need Tommy's arm at all.

"I don't know what to... how do I begin to distill what Bobby... what he meant to me?" Buck's eyes prickle hotly. Maybe he'll finally cry. He hasn't yet, which is weird. Usually his taps go on at the drop of a hat. "How do I keep it to, what, three minutes? Is that how long I'm supposed to talk for? T-That's impossible."

"That's a good place to start, actually."

"What, saying there's no way I can keep it to three minutes or less?"

"That you can't condense what Bobby meant—means—to you." Tommy kisses his shoulder again. "Admitting something's too big for you to put into words... well, a lot of people will know exactly what you mean."

"Saying it makes it real," Buck whispers.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's real if you say it or not."

Maybe it's because Tommy sounds so apologetic about telling the truth, or maybe it's because Buck's soul is currently divorced from the rest of him so he's able to hear the other thing Tommy's saying. Whatever it is, it makes his vision swim. Through the blur, he can see a little bit of color eke back into the room. The dresser isn't white; it's light blue.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, Buck rasps, "He's dead."

"I know, Evan," Tommy says, strained, like he's in pain. Like Buck's realization hurts him too.

"Tommy, my dad's dead."

The thing that's been blocking his airway rolls away, and the sob that's been waiting there patiently for days finally tastes freedom. At the same time his soul slams back into his body, his bones rebuild themselves, which gives him the ability to roll over and bury his face into Tommy's neck to muffle the sound of his cries.

He doesn't know how to keep Bobby Nash to three minutes, and even if he manages to come up with something, they'll give him the hook before long. He doesn't know what to do with all the feelings that have broken out of the vacuum and settled right back where they'd been. He doesn't know how to do any of this.

But right now, no one's asking him to. Right now, all he has to do is sit with it.

The seatbelt around Buck's chest tightens, but it doesn't feel like it's because of a hard brake. Tommy is just holding him closer.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

As a Leona stan, what are your favorite aspects of him?

His only redeeming character trait is his boobs

WDYM, I’M NOT A L*ONA STAn 💀 I WOULD NEVER DEBASE MYSELF BY ASSOCIATING WiTH HIM LIKE THAT...

... But HYPOTHETICALLY speaking, if I were a L*ona stan 🤔 I'd say my favorite aspect of him (you read that correctly, I'm only going to talk about ONE aspect here, not multiple otherwise this post would be way too long) is his ability to guide and to lead others. (I already have a huge bias towards "big brother" type characters so 🧍) It doesn't really matter to me that Leona is technically a younger brother and not an older one; "big brother" comes across so strongly in his behaviors and attitude that he's basically an honorary one.

It's so crazy to me just how much Leona does for others, even if he comes off as annoyed or arrogant when he does or has selfish ulterior motives he hopes to achieve by helping others out. He tutors Ruggie, helps Epel by making a voice-changing potion, hones in on his club members' preexisting skills and has them sharpen those, instructs Deuce + Jack on how to more efficiently mine magestones, went after Jack when he expressed wanting to go to a shady amusement park, sacrifices himself to let others run from puppets, gives advice to Jamil in book 6, and is constantly thinking about his country and worries about its future under his brother's rule. Book 2, for as bad as the writing is overall, kicked off because Leona wanted to take drastic steps to help his dorm's students secure their future career prospects in athletics. Several students express respect or admiration for Leona because of this. He earned that respect instead of having it handed to him on a silver platter. All of Savanaclaw follow him unquestionably. Jack was inspired from seeing one of Leona's magift/spelldrive plays on television. Epel thinks he's cool and aspires to be like him. I'M SURE THERE ARE A TON OF OTHER EXAMPLES THAT I CAN'T POSSIBLY CRAM IN HERE. The fact that I can list off so many examples off the top of my head should already speak to how much BIG BROTHER-NESS can be packed into Leona.

The best part of it all is that this makes complete sense for his character. Leona is someone who has given up hope for himself and his own future 😭 YET HE'S OVER HERE SUPPORTING ALL THESE OTHER PEOPLE BECAUSE HE STILL HAS HOPE FOR THEIR FUTURES. This is so clear to me if you read his post-OB flashback in the light novel but it's also there in his chat with Jamil in book 6. This fr makes me mad sad because literally all the people he helps out legitimately look up to him EVEN WHEN LEONA HIMSELF CAN'T SEE HIS OWN WORTH OR DOESN'T BELIEVE THAT HE'S CAPABLE OF GOODNESS (as we see in his book 7 dream). I just find this endlessly fascinating to examine.

AGAIN THOUGH, this is all purely hypothetical :> because I am NOT, in fact, a L*ona stan.

[chaiisms]

BALDURS GATE 3 PARTY BANTER PROMPTS LIST.

all of the following prompts are taken from party banter between the companions in larian studios' baldurs gate 3 (2023). there should be no spoilers! also, a disproportionate amount of these are from astarion and karlach. i'm not sorry.

I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, [ name ]?

You'll be as depraved as the rest of us in no time.

Friend of yours?

Were you always so sneaky?

If there's hope for me there's hope for anyone.

How are we not there yet? My feet are killing me.

This is what I get for trying to strike up conversation.

We're not going to have trouble, are we?

If we continue this way, we may get too close for comfort.

Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

Do you have pet names for each other yet?

[ name ]! Was that a joke?

You know what - that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

Given your own nature, are you really the one to judge?

You can read?!

I'm surprised - I expected you to turn your back once you got what you wanted.

I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

Can't say I love what they've done with the place.

I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

At least you didn't tell me to 'be myself'.

You have so much to learn. Repeat after me: honey muffin, sweetie pie, sugarplum.

Nice to be in a crowd of normal people for once.

So [ name ], how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

You seemed a million miles away just then.

I fear I've been rather hasty to judge you, [ name ].

Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

Step one of starting a conversation: think before you speak.

I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently…

All right, just keep it down. We're conspicuous enough without your hyena call.

Not one for roughing it, I see.

Why not have a little fun?

You're right, of course. Forgive me.

My money's on you, [ name ].

The echoes - listen! They're coming from three directions!

Want me to carry you?

Feeling at home?

Treat them right, or you'll have me to answer to.

Oh, darling, would you?

No doubt they found me too intimidating.

A girl could get used to this.

Now I don't know what to believe.

Well - yes, it was a joke.

I know that, too. It just wasn't funny.

And here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?

Oh, I wouldn't actually leave. After all, where would you be without me?

You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

Well what would impress you, then?

Let's just stop this conversation right here, shall we?

Must've been an awful day for the people who lived here

You've clearly thought this through a great deal. I'm impressed and appalled in equal measure.

Sure, but think of the stories you'll be able to tell.

I never was scared of the shadows.

I know you're not really as heartless as all that.

I judged you wrongly. I'm sorry.

Are you charging for this sage advice, or is sticking your nose into my business just a hobby?

Pragmatism, thy name is [ name ].

That's ironic, coming from you.

We're either very clever or very lucky.

You do not need luck to survive, [ name ]. Not when you have me.

That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky.

Stop gawking at the decor. This place is dangerous.

I can't tell if you're joking.

So, what's it like caring for someone other than yourself, [ name ]?

You think I'm beautiful?

I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

Yet another thing we have in common. We're two peas in a pod.

Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?

Use your words.

You gonna catch me if I eat a brick?

[ name ], I've heard you talking in your sleep.

Let's never speak of this again.

You can take a day off once in a while, [ name ]

Hey! Something bit me.

Cheer up. It might be all downhill from here.

I love a nice secret hideaway, don't you?

Think the bar is open?

[triptuckers]

sparring sessions - percy jackson

Request: yes! "ok so ik it’s kinda (by kind of i mean VERY) cliche, but i was wondering if u could do like an angst -> fluff where like percy and reader get into a fight n stuff and he like admits that he loves them??" Pairing:  percy jackson x reader Summary:  when an argument between you and percy gets heated, some things are revealed Warnings:  mentions of injuries and blood, arguing, angst Word count:  858 A/N: raaaaaahhh I LOVE me some cliche's LETS GO !! thanks for you request, enjoy!

it started out as an innocent sparring session between percy and jake, a hephaestus kid. a couple kids from hermes, hephaestus, and athena decided to get together to train. you and percy also joined.

you'd been at camp longer than percy, so you had trained him in the beginning. the two of you often train together even though percy is now better than you.

but somehow he still looks at you while sparring with someone else. if it's to read your facial expressions or just because you're in his line of sight, you're not sure.

but today it nearly went wrong.

while percy and jake were sparring, percy was looking at you and too late to block jake's sword. he managed to make a deep cut in percy's arm.

the session was immediately ended and percy put his sword away. while the other kids continued their training session, you walked away. you couldn't stay there and be around percy right now. clearly he hadn't listened to you.

but percy, having seen your face, follows you.

as soon as you get to percy's cabin - which provides you with more privacy than your own - you turn around to look at him with an irritated look on your face.

'I told you to ignore me if you're sparring!' you say.

percy frowns. but nothing bad happened? why are you mad at him? besides, he can't look away from you when he's sparring. he thought you knew this.

'and how am I supposed to do that?' says percy, watching as you take off your armor and neatly put it away. 'you're the one that taught me. of course I need to see if you think I'm doing a good job.'

you pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers. you're trying so hard to stay calm right now.

'of course I think you're doing a good job, percy.' you say. 'I know you're good at what you do. but you'd do a great job if you would listen to my advice and avoid getting stabbed.'

percy makes a soft offended noise. 'first of all, I didn't get stabbed. I got nicked!'

you groan out loud 'percy! come on, don't be stubborn!'

'I'm the one being stubborn? you should see yourself when you're sparring. you want it to be perfect but fighting never is! it's messy, no matter how good you train someone.'

'I'm going for a walk.' you say, before you get angrier and say things you don't mean.

you grab your armor and walk towards the door, but he steps in front of you, blocking the doorway.

'oh no, you're not. we're not done yet.' says percy, crossing his arms over his chest, displaying the cut on his arm that he didn't have time to heal yet.

'got more to say?' you say.

'yes. you never did actually tell me what I did wrong.' says percy. 'you're mad, I can tell. but you didn't tell me what it was that I did that's made you mad.'

'yes I did. I told you that you need to ignore me when you're sparring. focus all of you attention on the opponent, not me.'

'I can't do that.'

'can't focus on the opponent? I noticed.'

'that's not what I meant!'

'then what do you mean!'

'I meant I can't ignore you when I'm sparring!' says percy loudly. 'I can never ignore you, don't you understand that? whenever you're near you always have my attention, I can never look away. even when you're not near me I'm thinking about you. gods, you're always on my mind because I love you, okay? so I'm sorry if I can't look away from you when I'm sparring!'

you hadn't realised how close you were to each other. now percy's face is close to yours, both of you breathing heavily.

you knew percy liked you, obviously. you wouldn't be staying in his cabin almost every night if he didn't. but this? even though you knew percy had liked you for a long time, you hadn't been together for that long.

'you love me?' you say in a soft voice, feeling your anger and irritation ebb away.

percy closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he just now realises what he said. then he sighs and when he opens his eyes and looks at you, there's nothing but sweetness in them.

'yeah. I do.' says percy. 'I've loved you for a long time, actually.'

you smile and want to say something but percy's eyes widen.

'wait, shit, is that too soon? should I have waited to say it? oh gods if I-'

'percy.' you say, shutting him up by stepping even closer to him.

'it's okay. I love you too.' you say.

percy grins and his eyes twinkle. without warning, he puts his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips against yours. he can feel the smile on your lips.

when he pulls back, you're both smiling.

'you still want to go on that walk?' says percy.

'definitely not.' you say.

percy laughs and kisses you again, your argument already forgotten.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost, steal or translate my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[hansoeii]

Hello! Hope you're having a great day/night! I absolutely adore your art, you are one of my favourite artists. I love the way you shade and do backrounds. Also everytime I get into a new show I immediately see your art for it??

I was wondering if you had any advice on drawing more realistically (backrounds, anatomy etc) but still keeping a style?

Hey hey!

Thank you so much!

I have a pretty good understanding of facial structures, because before I got into drawing more semi-realisticly, I heavily focused on realistic portraits. Here are some example, these are from around 2019!

(yes, I was really into danmei and kpop back then, haha)

I just always loved drawing/painting faces and it was all I did. But at some point I realized that I wanted to do more than that because just portraits felt super restricting. So it took me around 2-3 years to somewhat find my style. Thought it would be fun to show a little timeline! Advice will follow afterwards :)

2020

I began working on my OCs in 2020 and since I didn't have an exact reference to work off of, I struggled a lot. My art from this year is super wonky.

2021

Still wonky, but the Lokius obsession was the jumpstart into finding my style! My work from this year is all over the place haha, I was experimenting a lot.

2022

This first ofmd piece is pretty much the first drawing where you can see where my style is gonna go, which I think is pretty cool! This is the year I made the biggest progress cos I was drawing SO much. These two pieces are only six months apart. The one on the right was the first time I gave drawing a background a proper go, too! It was a good year.

2023

And this is where I am now! I'm still constantly learning and improving, but I'd say I have a style you can recognize now!

Now here comes some actual advice, haha:

What I highly recommend you to do is to study your favorite artists as much as you can! I have like 5 A4 sketchbooks all from 2020 that I filled with sooooo many studies, where basically all I did was look at artists I like and copy how they draw stuff, to try and figure out how to stylize certain things. Some of my favorite artists are Ami Thompson, Velinxi and TB Choi. But I also liked to just scroll through pinterest and study all the art I came across that I liked! For example, if I saw a really great drawing of a pair of pants I would copy it many times in my sketchbook and try to learn how they stylized the folds. Doing this for a prolongued period of time will naturally improve your own work! It'll be difficult at first, but you gotta push through, it's gonna be worth it!

I also highly recommend studying unique faces to try and avoid the same-face syndrome. Find some cool looking people and try to draw them as simple as you can! Maybe even draw a little timeline where you first draw them as cartoon-y as you can, and keep going until you end up with a more detailed, realistic drawing. Maybe in the middle of it you find a step that feels the most fun to you, so you can try to build on that! It's a great way to figure out what kind of style might be the best for you.

Here are some cool faces I found on pinterest!

I have a pinterest board with many more!

One REALLY important part of learning how to draw all kinds of things is to understand forms and shapes and how to manipulate them. I have so many pages in my sketchbook filled with just shapes that I drew from all kinds of angles without any references.

This is a great video on it:

6 Ways to Draw Anything by Proko

Learning how to do this is so crucial! Young artists often think they first have to learn all kinds of detailed anatomy before doing anything else, but all that's gonna do is make you tired and hate drawing. Shapes are where it's at! Once you understand how shapes work and which ones to use for certain parts of bodies or objects, drawing is gonna get so much easier! Once you understand them, you can get into details such as muscles and bones!

And honestly the most important point is to just absolutely love what you're doing! I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for the fact that I get extreme hyperfixations on certain media that turn me into some kind of beast where I can suddenly draw 10 detailed illustrations a week, haha. Just be passionate about what you do, find something you REALLY love and go crazy!

I really hope this was somewhat helpful! My inbox is always open if there's any more questions :)

[drdemonprince]

sorry for the longpost.

i only just now read your essay "be jealous. make demands. want more." and greatly enjoyed it and related to a lot of the things you described as far as your feelings about mainstream polyamory. to me it often feels very manicured and not honest or natural, which has been a turn off in seeking connections with other poly or ENM people. i'm pretty slow at processing, and dont have a lot of dating experience anyway, so just the prospect of being asked upfront what i want and desire and prefer just doesnt mesh with me. that's not how i get to know myself and not how other people get to know me. i like to do things first, then survey myself and circle back on what can be done better.

even before i read the essay i saw you posting about it, saying things like "be jealous, be audacious" etc. and i really took that to heart. over the past few months i've been working on communicating my feelings and needs to people rather than bottling them up and just adapting to the environment until i cant adapt anymore and i snap. i still find that, sometimes, an emotional outburst is rhetorically advantageous for me because it communicates the degree to which i've been neglected, i guess, and also it feels good to be needy when i'm used to taking care of everything and everyone else.

i sent very emotional emails to my managers at work, i've cursed a few coworkers out here and there, and i straight up walked out during a conflict. i still have my reputation as hardworking and nice and easygoing, but now it's known that i won't tolerate certain mistreatment against me. people are being kinder and friendlier to me. i'm not embarrassed about being emotional in front of other people. it had the intended impact. now i can survey how i feel each day and be more mindful of when something bothers me without giving into my reflex of compartmentalizing until i "forget" (but secretly keeping tally until i have no more space for tallies).

i wrote a super heart-on-my-sleeve love letter to a man who we took turns ghosting each other due to our mutual shit communication and avoidant behaviors, and before i had the chance to send it he told me he met someone. i still told him how i felt. i got this far in practicing speaking the fuck up, by god i'm not letting anything steal this opportunity from me lol. it took me a few days to figure out how to do it, and now i'm waiting for a response (or waiting until i figure it's been long enough that, this time, he probably is ghosting me lol). but i feel the most relief from the fact that i did it. i hate the feeling of regretting not saying anything. been there, done that, time for something new, see if that yields any results i like.

every time i've been needy and audacious, i haven't always gotten exactly what i wanted, but at least i no longer resented myself for being complicit in my own hurt. all along i secretly knew that being quiet and polite was only adding to how much other people could push me into boxes they liked but it was so hard to stop that habit.

anyway "be needy and have the audacity" is probably the best advice i've ever followed. tbh i first learned this from the perks of being a wallflower, but it has taken years to really practice it and reap the benefits. glad i am here and thank you for being part of that

wow. i find this so inspiring. thank you for sharing this.

[alexanderwales]

One of the software concepts that I found useful to bring over to writing is the concept of technical debt.

Technical debt is the additional work that gets created when you choose a fast option over a good option. It's "debt" because there's a very good chance that at some point you're going to have to repay it: you hardcode in some variables, deciding that you'll figure out the proper way to do it later, and eventually, surprise! It's later. You have to implement the solution you were putting off. And because you've been using the kludge for so long, sometimes that kludge has become load-bearing, and you have to spend quite a bit of time unraveling and refactoring. One of the reasons it's called debt is because you have to pay interest on it.

And the thing is, it's not always wrong to accrue technical debt. Sometimes it helps you get to working on the important thing, and can clarify design details or implementation concerns, and sometimes you can just ship without ever having to do it the "right" way. Sometimes you can wriggle out from under that debt and never suffer any consequences from it, even if there were theoretical consequences when you made the decision to do it the fast way.

The way that this applies to writing is mostly in terms of worldbuilding, character building, and plotting. You can sit down and map a whole novel out without writing a single word, whipping up character bibles and setting details and everything that you might possibly need, all before you write a single word.

... or you can accrue some debt and just gun it, writing as you go, making things up, adding them to some kind of tracking document or just not even doing that.

And as with code, there will come times you have to pay that debt back with interest.

Sometimes you skimp on a character's backstory, and then a few chapters down the road you need to make a decision about it, and suddenly there's a bunch of editorial work as you have to make sure that everything you just decided on matches up with what you've already written. A more extreme example would be writing a mystery novel where you haven't decided on what the answer to the mystery will be until very very late: it would either produce a bad mystery or require tons of rewriting.

As with code, the difficulty is knowing when you're incurring technical debt for a good reason and when you're shooting your future self in the foot.

Here are my rules of thumb for writing, in terms of what's acceptable technical debt:

Plot stuff should not wait. You should have a resolution for your story within the first few chapters of writing that story, and ideally, before you even start.

Everyone (and everything) gets a name the first time it appears. You cannot say "the gardener" a dozen times because you don't want to think of a name for the gardener.

All magic systems and superpowers and whatnot should be rigidly defined before they come onscreen. This doesn't need to be known to the characters, and "soft" magic has less of a requirement, but having rules be thought up midway through a fight scene is essentially the definition of generating technical debt.

Descriptions take little effort to bring into alignment, so can be skipped on first draft, so long as there is a description there. Having descriptions written afterward can help to understand mood and requirements of the scene.

Backstory is really variable, depending on how relevant to the plot it is. If it's going to be driving conflict, it needs to be worked out ahead of time. If it's flavor, it can be winged.

I am, of course, not the best follower of my own advice, and sometimes for very long webfic it's impossible to plan that much in advance. And of course I never go into every work having had every idea I'm going to have, and some of those ideas are good enough to include even if they disrupt a plan and require some refactoring.

[athena5898]

I often think when people hear "infantilizing a group of people", they think of it literarily that we are actively being made a infant. While this is a part of it, I think people miss the subtle things that end up causing chasms in their relationships with that group of people.

It's actually hard to pinpoint because it's never a singular event, it's many tiny things but the end result is always "I am the authority, I will always know more then you, I will never take your advice, I will never be honest with you (you know to spare *your* feelings), any disagreement is your fault, any problem in your life is my cross to bear and you must follow how I tell you to fix it, I will never stoop myself to understanding what your needs are as X group and will view everything from my own lens and judge you accordingly, we are not equals, and we never will be. (This is not a exhausted list, nor will everyone have all the same traits)

It is very hard to connect with someone who just automatically assumes a higher status to you just because of something you can't change. All the while the offender thinks what they are doing is actually a good thing. They are somehow helping you by just assuming they are better then you (which in the end, that's kinda what this is).

I have a few people in my life that I care for a lot, but they are not that much older then me yet they act like I can't possibly understand them and automatically shove this "child" label on my forhead.

And here is the thing, they will voluntarily bring up why they think this if you pay attention. It might be trauma they've dealt with, it might be that they have kids and you don't, age, or anything else like this. However I think it's important to note that I have friends who do not talk down to me and respect me as my own person with autonomy and also have these things going on in their life. So it's not like it's impossible to treat someone with respect and have these differences.

Now what do some of these subtle differences look like? There are many ways they can materialize but to name a few.

- Demanding the person solves a problem their way despite the person telling them why their circumstances do not allow that.

- assuming...well anything and all the time. These people have a tendency to think they know exactly what you are feeling and other such things and if you try to correct them then they will actually get upset at you or show some type of passive aggressiveness.

-Speaking on your behalf without asking permission

-never valuing your expertise on any subject. They are older/more mature then you, therefore to them they know more about everything. What's really fun (/s) about this is when they will explain to you, why you are wrong, by repeating what you said back at you.

- any reason why you can't do a thing, or why you need an aide is an excuse. You could do it if you *really* wanted to, but you are just being lazy. Now the real adult has to take up your burden.

- they do not/cannot listen to you. No matter what you say or how you say it, or if they even confirm what you say, there is always a part of them that is not listening. Or hell, they could of listened to you, but since what you say isn't important to them, they will quickly forget it and may even try and claim you never said anything to them.

- I'm not sure if this counts as infantilizing, but I notice that it happens a lot in tandem. While they think less of you and treat you like a child whose facts and opinions don't matter, all of this will change at a moment's notice when they need something from you...oddly enough something they probably normally do not take seriously from you on a normal day. Suddenly thrusting you with this burden of taking care of them even though they are never there for you in any meaningful actually helpful way most of the time. Like you will literally be demanded to stop what you are doing, and get over whatever you are going through to help them and their problem. I cannot explain how frustrating it is to be demanded to be the mature one while most of the time being denied respect.

I could go on, but honestly if I sat here and thought of every single tiny thing they do to make sure there is distance between you and them up on their self made pedestals, I'd be here all day.

The worst part on all of this is that I have no idea how to resolve it. People who do this are not inherently bad people, hell they might not even realize they do it. But this can actually make it more difficult to bring to their attention. I have tried many ways and many different times to resolve this, but I haven't been successful yet. Anyone who has corrected themselves were people who just had a little mess up but still obviously viewed me as a person from the start.

These subtle ways someone can dehumanize you, it can cause terrible rifts and of course the other person never understands why (see point above about not listening)

I am writing this as a autistic person, but I know there are others who go through this. Please check the ways you create artificial authority over someone.

Edit: someone reblogged this with hashtags about how we shouldn't do this to children either and I completely agree, I was using the term because it's the one often used to explain these things. Adding the edit cause I have no idea how to respond to the hashtag thing and I think it's a important thing to note.

[fayes-fics]

Textual Encounter

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Text fic. Wrong number meet-cute over text.

Warnings: none... this is fluff and humour.

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Fic request fill for Anon (HERE). I kept it fun and fluffy, but yeah, I can see a sequel where they sext. Thanks to @colettebronte for the read-through. Enjoy! <3

Y/N: Hey Liz, it’s y/n y/l/n. Kindle Spa gave me your mobile. Said you had moved to another salon. I don’t trust anyone else to wax me tbh. Big date this week, kwim 😉 Can I get an appt? I’ll come to you. Doesn’t matter where. 

BB: Errr, I think you have the wrong number…

Y/N: Not Liz?

BB: Nope, Ben here. 

Y/N: Not a waxer, I presume?

BB: I may have waxed lyrical in my time, may even have lit a few candles. Have not waxed anyone no - my own body or anyone else’s. Yet. But I’m game to try anything once...

Y/N: Lol.

BB: Big date, eh?

Y/N: ….Yeah. Not that it's any of your business, stranger Ben.

BB: Fair. BB: Does it hurt?

Y/N: ??

BB: Getting waxed.

Y/N: Oh. Yeah. Like a motherfucker. But you sorta get used to it, tbh. And it’s so much less itchy than shaving regrowth, especially in sensitive areas… Wait, why am I having this convo with a complete stranger?!

BB: We don’t have to be strangers. BB: I’m Ben, 33, London. BB: I have no strong opinions on hair removal methods.

Y/N: lol. K. I’m y/n, 28, also London. Y/N: I, as you can see, do have some opinions.

BB: Hi y/n 👋 BB: I hope you can find Liz. Or someone else to assist with your hair needs.

Y/N: I would like it stated, for the record, I’m not hairy like a troll. I just like to keep things neat.

BB: The lady doth protest too much…

Y/N: You are cheeky for a stranger.

BB: Hey, I thought we agreed. Not strangers. Me Ben. You hairy troll.

Y/N: BLOCK.

BB: Just typing it doesn't work, you know.

Y/N: You should work at the Apple Genius Bar.

BB: Hmm, possibly. I do look good in blue. Or so I've been told.

Y/N: Always glad to provide career counselling.

BB: 🫡

4 days later.

BB: How’d your date go?

Y/N: That's odd. I don’t see a Genius Bar appt in my calendar…?

BB: iCal is a lying bastard. BB: I also assume you now can move faster through water.

Y/N: ??

BB: Waxed smooth like a dolphin…?

Y/N: 😆 Y/N: Entirely none of your business, but yes, actually. Well mostly. I leave some. Why am I telling you this?! Y/N: The guy was such a dud tho, I didn't get to show it off 🙁

BB: Please don't stop on my account. This is just delightful.  BB: I apologise on behalf of all men.

Y/N: For what?

BB: Having 4 sisters, I find the safest answer here is usually… everything, of course.  BB: But specifically, your rubbish date.

Y/N: Apology conditionally accepted. Y/N: 4 sisters?! 

BB: Only conditional? What do I gots to do to make it unconditional? BB: Yeah, I know… I’ve got 3 brothers too. My parents were really into each other. 

Y/N: IDK, serve a mean martini? Y/N: Understatement.

BB: That could be arranged. I took an online mixology course during lockdown.  BB: My sister El declared I'm better than Stanley Tucci. Admittedly, that was after 4 espresso martinis… but I'm taking it. She's opinionated but the best one. They are a weird bunch tho 🤔

Y/N: WOAH WOAH WOAH. That's a bold claim.

BB: Well, there’s only one way to dispute it: try one for yourself…

Y/N: Smooth, Genius Bar, smooth.

BB: I do my best 🤷

1 day later.

Y/N: I can't get my AirPods to work.

BB: You do realise I didn’t actually follow your career advice?

Y/N: Urgh. Inconvenient. What use are you then?

BB: As I said. Cocktails. I’ll try my hand at waxing if you want.

Y/N: Best stick to the day job. Which is…?

BB: Graphic design.

Y/N: Oh, that’s quite cool. 

BB: It pays the bills. You?

Y/N: MI-5

BB: Wow, you're a shit spy.

Y/N: It could be an excellent double bluff…

BB:

Y/N: Oh, we’ve graduated to memes now, have we, Genius Bar?

BB: It was called for.

Y/N: I’ll take it. Purely cos it's a Hemsworth.

BB: I would too, tbh.

Y/N: Bi?

BB: For a Hemsworth? Always.

Y/N: Anyone else?

BB: I’ll keep you posted.

Y/N: I'm on the edge of my seat.

3 days later.

BB: Oscar Issac.

Y/N: Good non sequitur evening to you, too, Genius Bar Ben.

BB: For the bi thing.

Y/N: Ahh. Got it. I can respect that.

BB: This is me, btw: www.instagram.com/benbridgerdesign.  BB: Figured you can decide for yourself if I'm a creeper.

Y/N: Appreciated.

3 minutes later.

Y/N: You paint?

BB: I dabble

Y/N: Modesty will only make me like you more.

BB: You like me?! 🥹

Y/N: You didn't mention you were handsome.

BB: There is no way to respond to that without me sounding like a twat.

BB: But thank you 😊

Y/N: This is me: www.instagram.com/ynhandle 

7 minutes later.

BB: Oh, Amalfi is so beautiful, isn't it?

Y/N: Wow. That's a deep cut. How far did you scroll back??

BB: 👀

Y/N: Yeah, it's beautiful. Shame it's tainted for me now. Was there with an ex.

BB: I saw. Very handsome.

Y/N: Are you sure you're not just into men full-stop?

BB: 🤷 BB: You’re very pretty, too.

Y/N: I’d believe it if you didn't mention my “very handsome” ex first…

BB: I call it like I see it. BB: I have had 4 whiskeys, tho, so make of that what you will.

Y/N: On a school night?!

BB: It’s my brother Ant's birthday. This is like non-optional drunk, I’ll have you know.

Y/N: Happy birthday to him. 

BB: He says thanks. He’s also told me to get off my fucking phone. Which is rich. He is texting his wife nonstop.

Y/N: Hah! Safe travels through Whiskeytown, BenBridger 🫡

BB: I kinda miss Genius Bar…. 😞

Y/N: I can't win…

2 days later.

BB: Settle an argument for me.

Y/N: 🍿

BB: Col, younger brother, never stops eating... He claims Katz Deli is overrated. I argue it's touristy but still good. You’ve been. Where do you sit on this matter?

Y/N: You really did go thru my Insta, didn't you?? Y/N: Thanks for the follow, BTW.

BB: It's a compliment, I assure you. BB: Welcome. And same.

Y/N: Not complaining. And yeah, I agree with you, actually.

BB: Hah! Excellent!!

Y/N: Wait… your older brother is Ant, and your younger brother is Col? You’re Ben. So, like ABC?

BB:  … I already warned you my family was weird.

Y/N: You did. You did.

BB: Now, please excuse me while I go gloat.

Y/N: 👍

5 mins later.

BB: Hi. This is Col. You must be the famous y/n. Ben’s in the bogs, and the mug left his phone on the table unlocked, so this is on him.  BB: He like really likes you. Like a lot. Will you go on a date with him pls? 

Y/N: Err, ok, hi Col. Y/N: Umm, I think Ben should be the one to ask me that. Don’t you?

BB: He’s too scared you’ll say no.

Y/N: I won't…

BB: EXCELLENT.

2 minutes later.

BB: I am so SO sorry about that 😬 He’s such a shit. BB: But… do you mean it?

Y/N: Ask me properly…

BB: Would you, y/n, like to go on a date with me? Please?

Y/N: I would be delighted to Ben. 😀

BB: 🙏 BB: Are you free on Thursday? Could I take you to dinner?

Y/N: Sounds wonderful. 

BB: 7pm? Meet at Picadilly Circus? By Brasserie Zedel?

Y/N: I’ll be there 😀

BB: 😀

10 days later.

BB: I think you should know… Liz is an artiste 😮‍💨

Y/N: Stop texting me from my bed, you dork. 😘 Y/N: How do you take your coffee?

BB: I'm like 10 meters away. Why not just ask me?

Y/N: You started this, Genius Bar…

BB: Come back to bed, Mostly Hairless Troll.

Y/N: I asked for that, didn't I? 🤦

Benedict taglist, pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I get a particularly nasty message, I always check to see if they're following me first. Nine times out of ten, they're not. But they're also, unfortunately, the same people who feel entitled to send me multiple messages in a row, most of them heavily steeped in the language of moralization and purity.

Like whenever I talk about painkillers or pain management, I always get a handful of well-meaning people who are maybe new to my blog or are just young, asking me if I've tried diet/exercise/meditation, etc.

Sometimes I'll respond to them. Other times I'll just ignore them because I get those kinds of messages so often it's like white noise, and maybe part of me hopes if they stick around on my blog, they'll learn it through exposure via my incessant bitching.

When you see me responding to someone offering that kind of advice, it's either because I'm at my fucking limit or because I'm hoping it's a teachable moment and an otherwise seemingly nice person might unlearn some harmful biases.

The people who don't follow me are not interested in any kind of conversation on the subject. They do, however, feel the most qualified to tell me, someone they didn't know existed until one of my posts crossed their dash, how to manage my life, everything I'm doing wrong, and why I'm a bad person.

And for them, my disability is proof that I am a bad person because they view health as a moral issue.

If you're sick, it's because you don't exercise enough, don't eat the right foods, don't pray enough, don't do enough. They genuinely believe that if they say and do all the right things, like a Good Person, they'll never get sick.

It's their security blanket against the harsh reality that anyone is one bad day away from disability. One faulty gene, one bad infection, one bad accident away from a life-long diagnosis. And if they do get sick, it's a test. A challenge to be overcome with Willpower as they learn the True Meaning of Life.

It can never just be a simple fact of life that sickness happens. That disability exists without a moral reason.

And it's suffocating.

Day in, day out. Folks who don't know me from fucking Eve telling me I'm being punished. Not always as outright as that. They don't always use that word. But sometimes I appreciate it when they do because at least then they're being honest. They're not couching it in the softer language of leftist circles. Not hiding it behind concern.

Because the truth is, there are just as many folks who think they're liberal and enlightened who'd be happy if disabled people just stopped existing. They don't like thinking about us because it makes them think about themselves. About their own fragility and mortality, and they hate that. They hate that there's something they can't control with their thoughts and actions. That they can't moralize their way out of.

Honestly, it's a relief when people are just cunts about it because I can hit the block button, safe in the knowledge that they were never the kind of person who would see me as a person. But when it's some 20yo kid with their pronouns, orientation, and "ACAB" in their profile spouting the same kind of moralization, sometimes even with the language of eugenics, it feels like such a betrayal. Like a loss.

And perhaps if I wasn't multiply disabled, I'd have the energy to pull them back. To tell them why they're wrong and hope like hell they realize what they're doing is harmful. But then, if I wasn't disabled, they wouldn't be messaging me, so I wouldn't be dealing with it.

I wouldn't be expected to use my existence as a teachable moment to spoon-feed them compassion. But I am, and I do. When I can. Not always with the grace that's warranted. Not always with the thought and compassion I ought to. (And I don't; I acknowledge that. I'm prone to anger and off-the-cuff remarks that are hurtful too. Though I try to keep most of it to myself or save it for therapy.)

Basically, if you've made it this far through the TED talk, don't be fucking cunts to disabled people. Don't tell chronically ill people to try yoga. Don't moralize pain relief. Suffering is not noble.

You need to kill the cop and the priest in your head telling you otherwise.

And also if you're the nice people sending me nice messages. Thank you. It helps cushion all of *gestures* this.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Your eyes rove over the lords and ladies as they dance. You teeter in your shoes and glance over at the figure next to you, watching just as patiently. There is no hint of longing in him. He is enviably content with all around him, and himself.

"Saw, fawgive me, I faw I've taken much of yaw time," you lower your chin. "I should depawt and seek my... escawt."

"Mm, but it seems he seeks you," Lord Heimdall rebuffs and lifts his brows. You follow the tilt of his chin.

You see a head of dark hair just above those around it. By his gait alone, stiff and uptight, you recognise your betrothed. He slips past the dancers on either side of him, his eyes narrowed as he focuses on his goal. It isn't you, but the man at your side.

"Ah, Lord Laufeyson, come to find what you've lost?" Lord Heimdall greets.

"Lost? Hm, no, I'm afraid it isn't what I lost," Laufeyson returns and sends you a sharp glance. He returns his focus to the man before him. "It's been some time since I met you at one of these affairs. I thought you didn't have the stomach for joy."

Heimdall chuckles, "oh? Well, I think the one thing we share is our disillusionment for these events. Oh, but I err. That and this lovely lady. How wonderful a spirit she is. She's kept me much amused. She has great charm. You are a fortunate man."

"Hm, she does have... her peculiarities," Laufeyson slithers. "Is not the purpose to socialize? Beyond my betrothed?"

"Perhaps you might give me some good advice on how to do so. You seem to have found your stride this night. How is Lady Sif, as it were?" Lord Heimdall asks. Laufeyson fidgets.

"Well enough."

"And her husband?"

"He is kept by business. Unfortunately." Laufeyson sets his shoulders rigidly. "Perhaps you might ask her yourself of these matters?"

"Well, I did not wish to interrupt but now I see you've detached, I shall heed your advice and... socialize." Heimdall turns to you. "My lady, it has been the utmost pleasure."

He bows his head and you do the same, "thank you, saw. It has."

He turns sharply and raises his chin high. He steps around Laufeyson who watches him with derision until he is amidst the guests. Your betrothed returns his attention to you.

"Proud of yourself?"

"Pwoud?"

His brow twitches. "Don't presume it is you who concerns me. Rather, I must mind my reputation. As you should, as well. I am contracted to marry a lady of high repute."

You bristle. "I was polite. It is etiq-wet."

He rolls his eyes. He puffs in irritation, his nostrils flaring as he peers around once more.

"You needn't mind me. You awe only both-awed that any might be kind to me. You huwwied away from me. I cannot be blamed faw that." You turn your head and stare at the sparkle of champagne glasses along the table.

He snorts. "Aren't you becoming a little upstart? Well, darling," he leans in, looming over you. "If you are to be avowed to me, you better start preparing. There is that certain part about obedience. Well, I tell you now, you will be mindful of that mouth."

Your eyes flick to him hotly. You swallow. Edith was never cruel. Not to any. But she could be fierce. You must be like her. She always stood up for you.

"My lawd, I have been in constant dwead of that inevitable day," you sniff. "I will keep my vows and nothing maw than that."

He hisses and turns sharply. To your surprise, he stands next to you, perusing the room with a sigh. He clasps his hands behind him and stands as tall as he can.

"Don't expect more than that from me, my lady," he growls.

You don't react. It's better to leave it at that. This will be a marriage of convenience for your families, not yourselves.

🦢

The night ends much as it began. Tension radiates between you and your future husband as his parents sit unaffected on the carriage bench across from you. Either they cannot sense it or refuse to show that they do. You suppose for them, it hardly matters if you have any sort of affection. They only need the marriage sworn at the altar.

You retire to your rooms. You undress and sit at the vanity. You hold Edith's brooch in your hands and bow your head. You close your eyes, exhausted, yet you know you will not sleep peacefully.

"Edith," you whisper as if she might hear you. You rub the embroidered face of the pin. "Tonight was... well... I met a man. I met many people but... he was nice. Kind. He helped me." You exhale and is rattles your nerves. "Lord Heimdall. That's him. You would like him. I think he'd like you too."

You put your hands together around the brooch and lean them on the table. You bend forward as if in prayer.

"Not him though. Not... I'm happy you won't marry him. You don't desawve that. You don't desawve... to be gone." You hold back a sob. "And the west of them... they do as evewyone else does. They pity me. They make fun."

You nod and sit up, pushing down your grief. You'll miss that the most. The way she listened without judging. She clung to each word as if they were honey and she was a glutton. You dab your nose gently with your knuckles.

You look around the chamber. Only a single lamp lights the space. You rise and drift through like a wraith. You blow out the flame and shuffle to bed. You'll miss most the nights Edith would hop into bed and keep you up with her little japes and her singing.

🦢

The morning comes and with it, obligation. You cannot hide from the sun or your circumstance. You must persist. If only because it is what Edith would like you to do.

You break your fast with Lord Odin and Lady Frigga. The lord of the manor sends his groom to declare his absence on the basis of business. You are not disheartened by the news, though his parents share a look of disappointment.

You excuse yourself. You're not of the mind to be around others. You're still trying to figure out how you'll live this life. With Laufeyson. Without Edith.

You find a place in the garden where the birds peck at the ground. You watch them scrabble over twigs and seeds. You listen to those in the tree whistling. It's painfully serene. It will end. It will have to.

The sun rises to apex. It burns down on you. She liked sunny days. You liked spending them with her. Those were when you got in the most trouble. Your father would yell about muddy skirts and faces and your mother would echo him a moment later.

As the sweat seeps into your bodice, you get to your feet. A pair of doves flutter away at your movement. You clutch your skirts and drag the hems toward the house.

You enter the house to a sonourous echo of silence. Your footsteps tap like a clock as you make your advance across the wooden parquet. You climb the stairs, listening to the eerie still of the space. You don't think that will change. You will forever be alone in this place.

You reach the top and peer down toward your rooms. You notice the door open on its hinges. You frown. Did it not catch that morning when you departed?

You proceed to it and peek around the closed door that mirrors the open one. Your chest pits and your spine goes straight. You step into the doorway and watch Lord Laufeyson's shoulders as he sifts around your vanity.

He examines the top of it, then the mirror, and he reaches to take the brooch you left pinned to the scarf hung from one side of the frame. He unhooks it as you take a step inside. You clear your throat.

"My lawd," you say as sternly as you can muster.

His cheeks dimple and he clucks. He closes his fist around the pin. He turns his head but keeps his body aimed at the vanity.

"My lawd," you approach him. "That is my pin."

"It is old and fading," he muses as he keeps his hand closed. "It is not fitting one of your status."

"It is mine." You insist.

He snorts and turns his body. He raises himself up to his full height. His dark lashes flick over his green irises. He tilts his chin.

"By rights, everything that is yours is mine," he sneers. "And so, no, it isn't."

You bite your cheeks.

"We awe not mawwied yet--"

"But we shall be. No matter what I say or do. I must suffer you," he snaps. "So you will suffer me."

"It is only a pin," you insist.

"Oh, is it?" He opens his hand and you wince. "Then it should be purged out with the rubbish."

"No," you try to snatch it and he curls his fingers around it. He snickers.

"Seems more than only a pin."

"Please," you let your concern break through. "Please, Lawd Laufeyson, it was my sista's. It is daw to me. Please, I beg of you."

"Oh, do beg. It would be a good start to our union." He taunts and tucks the pin into his pocket, tapping his jacket as his grin grows. "How about I will think on its value and come to a decision?"

He sidesteps you but you move with him. You block him and put your hands on his jacket. He quickly swats you away. You recoil.

"Do not touch me," he grits.

"No, that is mine. You cannot take it fwom me--" A swell surges from your stomach into your chest.

"You will not tell me what to do. Now clear my path--"

"Give it back!" You demand.

"You!" He grabs you by your sleeves and jerks you. "Hear me now. You will not touch me unless I say and you certainly will not speak to me so churlishly." He sneers down at you. "And you will heed my every order." He shakes you again so you bite your tongue. "I see more and more how much of a tragedy it is that your sister left this world. It did curse me with the lesser of the two."

He shoves you aside and you stagger. You hit the wall and turn to press your back to it. You turn to watch him go. He stops as a servant appears in the doorway.

"My lord. For the lady." she nearly stumbles back. She holds out a folded sheet of paper. He sniffs and snatches it from her.

"Go," he demands. She abides. He turns and breaks the seal. You stand straight.

"My lawd, that is for me--"

"You persist," he flicks his fingers at you and focuses on the page. His head tilts as he reads and scoffs. He lets the paper folds and tosses it at your feet. "Oh, boo, how sad."

He spins and strides out of the room. You rush after him and stop at the threshold. He has the pin. He has your soul in his pocket. You snarl and shake your head.

You back up and look down at the letter. You lift it and see your family's seal. Shakily, you unfold it to read your mother's scrawl.

'Daughter,

We regret to inform you that we will not be fit to travel for your nuptials. These halls are shadowed in grief as are our hearts. Your father and I send our good tidings for you and your husband. You dowry will be delivered as agreed.

Your Mother'

You stare at the message. The letters are slanted. The lines are short and quickly scribbled. That's all the care they have for you. You're certain they mourn for Edith but what of you? Are they not bidding farewell to both daughters?

You crumple it up. What do you care? They would not make the day any better? Nor your fate any lighter. Would that your father had the whim to do so, he might be proud to see you take his advice at last. You will do what needs done and you will not gripe as you do.