#those who love me will understand me. those who don't... don't have to understand me.

[thetreestumptherapist]

I don't really care about the font. As long as it is easily readable for me while I am working. I started some stories in Google docs, but moved them to Microsoft Word and am considering going back for convenience sake and I haven't touched them since I moved them partly because of the default fonts. (I am aware I could change them, but I am too lazy to do so) Maybe I do care after all...

I 100% could write it by hand, and have considered it. The only reason I don't is because editing is more difficult on paper.

I haven't been writing long enough to develop a specific ritual. So maybe my lack of ritual is the real curse?

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. That and Hippopotomonstrosesqippedaliaphobia. Yes, these are spelled mostly from memory. I checked the spelling for the phobia, I did not do so for the osis.

I don't know if it's a superstition really, but your characters are alive and will 100% change the story on you and there's nothing you can do about it if you want your story to come out good and cohesive.

I have two. That I will never get it the way I like it, (I know this is an unsolvable dilemma, but it's still a fear) and that no one will like it or even see it when I publish it.

Watching my story come together. As well as coming up with a solid idea for the next part of the story.

Dialogue, because I suck at it.

I do believe in ghosts. Probably not the ghosts you're thinking of though. As a Christian I do believe spirits do things we can't see, but not quite like the stereotypical ghosts in fiction. Although they are very similar.

Depends on your definition of haunted. Haunted as in I was horrified by it? I can't think of one right now, but I am almost positive it has happened. Haunted as in hung over my head because I haven't finished it yet? Yes, my own writing has done that. As have many stories that I need to finish reading.

I am not sure what that old advice is, and I don't know that I want to. Yes, I grieve the darlings lost. I have not yet killed a darling, but I am a sucker for pain and suffering. It just has to be handled correctly. So, if I ever kill a darling, believe me, it will be felt throughout the story and your life. A darling graveyard is a wonderful idea. Thank you for the suggestion. >:)

The Lorem Ipsum is a cruel and unusual punishment. As for the wishes, gaining the ability to actually finish my work, having the dialogue come out correctly, and having the writing be less awkward. I think those would be my wishes. The ability to finish my work could possibly be replaced with the ability to come up with ideas easier, like no writer's block or something. But they are essentially the same thing.

I don't know what subject I would have difficult writing about. Again, I haven't been writing very long or a lot, so I don't have much experience with it yet. Same with easy.

My lack of physical social life does not allow for me to easily lend books to people. But I can guarantee you I would know EXACTLY who had what book, but I probably wouldn't get them back because social anxiety.

Don't do it to my books and I will tolerate your book abuse. I would love to read in the bath, but I am scared of damaging the book.

The weirdest thing I've ever used as a bookmark would probably be a post it note, or gift card maybe, if I actually used a gift card for that. I am very boring with my bookmarks...

I cannot, to save my life, think of any details to tell you that won't make it into the text. I am sorry. I world build as I write and I'm still near the beginning of the story. My dnd campain tho? That would need a whole post of it's own. 👀

"Knowing how the Sangheili felt about their swords and other people using them, she hoped that given the circumstances they would understand her desperation. She picked two of them up while thanking the Sangheili, both for joining their cause and for the sacrifice they made. Then she left the battlefield, but not before paying respects to all the fallen soldiers, human and Sangheili alike. Some simple words of gratitude spoken over the battlefield was all she had time for." This is a passage from a Halo fanfiction I am writing. The story came about because I wanted to emphasize the Sangheili's focus on Honor and Respect and how their views of humans changed during their allyship with us. The MC's name is Emira (subject to change) and respect is also a core value in her morals. She has not gotten to respectfully return the swords to the Sangheili yet, but that will happen soon. If I can figure out how she is rescued or escapes from danger. The battlefield spoken about in that passage has already been left by the conflict and is inactive when she finds it. The Sangheili she thanks are fallen soldiers, and she took the swords from beside their dead bodies. The passage did not change much during its creation.

I started writing because I love making stories up in my head, but I wanted to share them. The bumps are I always picture them as movies in my head, so turning them into words and having it come out as a well-written story is difficult. I am currently writing fanfiction and short stories, but I would like to turn one of my stories into a novel. I just haven't figured out how and I don't know if I will try to get them officially published or not.

The one true love. Life gets lonely, and they can give me emotional support while I struggle with my writing skills.

I wish I could start. 💀 I have 3 WIPs, all my first stories that I actually started writing. (I consider my dnd campaign a WIP because I am considering turning it into its own fic and it is a joy to work on) I haven't published anything and am getting very annoyed by my lack of progress on all of them.

Another reason why I haven't touched my stories for awhile is because I liked Google Docs' organization abilities better than Word's. With Docs they have tabs inside the document so you can actually have your stories separated with in the same document. Whereas with Word, at least to my knowledge, the only thing separates them is the headings. I should go back to Docs...

My couch? And an ungodly amount of clutter? I watch tv in the evenings and sometimes I decide to write while I do so. I get my computer out and have it on my lap, while I sit on the couch and watch tv, ignoring the clutter caused by my undiagnosed ADHD and complete lack of motivation to do anything related to chores...

People put prep work into their stories? Like, they get prepared to write the story? I just sit down and write whatever I can come up with if it fits my current story. Sometimes I have to tweak things so it all fits together.

I haven't come up with any irrelevant details yet. Everything must be part of the story somehow.

Given that most of my characters are based on me, yes I very much regret going into their heads and I haven't come up with a way to get back out yet. Please send help. I think I took a wrong turn back at Imagination Avenue?

I can't think of a specific character that was stressful. The most stressful situation to write though, has been the wedding reception for my (healthy) romance story. I have no idea what to do with it.

My MC for the romance story has probably been the most delightful. Either her, or Nialith Madgarb, (pronounced nye-uh-lith Mad-garb) from my DND campaign.

My brain is a cesspool for the craziest ideas. I pull inspiration from everywhere. Sometimes I wish the inspiration well WOULD run dry so I could have a moment of peace and quiet, but nay, I am doomed to an eternity of infinite ideas that I simply must run with. I am exhausted.

I have not yet written my dreams, nor dreamed my writings.

"Thank you for reading my stories. It means a lot to have people who enjoy my writing. Or are open to civil discussion about why they don't like it. I truly appreciate y'all"

Do deepfakes count? There is a series called "Master Chief teaches" and it's a bunch of videos of an ai recreation of Master Chief's voice and a script where "Master Chief" teaches you how to do stuff. In the video titled "Master Chief teaches you what to do when things go sideways" he says "adopting a solution-oriented mind helps you stay focused on what is most important during any crisis and that is taking action. Without action there is no movement, and without movement problems remain what they are" "Without movement problems remain what they are" is something I return to regularly when I start feeling overwhelmed by school, chores, etc. I could sit there and avoid the problem until it's so bad I can't anymore, or I could take action and make a move to fix the problem when I encounter it instead of sitting there overwhelmed and frozen. I recommend giving the video a watch, even if you don't play or like Halo.

I like to draw and paint (with watercolor, acrylic, and/or ink), and I have dabbled in cross-stitch, embroidery, and diamond art. I plan to draw some of the characters from my stories. I really want to paint Nialith Madgarb in my inks, but I am still working on mentally designing her character.

"Let's eat grandma"... Use the Oxford comma, people. It saves lives.

I cannot remember a single writing rule to comment on right now. If it works for your story and style, go for it. If it doesn't, yeet it into the abyss. Idk

I know an entire alphabet's worth of star wars character's and then some. This has nothing to do with my ability to write. Also, Halo 5: Guardians and Star Wars: The Force Awakens came out the same year, one in October, the other in December. Again, not related to my writing.

They wouldn't even consider me lol. And if they did, they'd think I was insane. And had severe ADHD. And they wouldn't be wrong...

My writing process is too slow and barely existing. Nothing about it is super weird except for the fact that I bounce all over the story and fill in the missing parts once I come up with a way to do so. As for the cats, they like to think they don't care about us, but they 100% do. And they would die of embarrassment if they knew we know they care.

Nothing. If I feel like giving up, I take a break until I inevitably come up with an irresistible idea on how to continue the story. Rinse and repeat.

I don't know if you mean a poem someone else wrote, or one I wrote, so I shall do both. Robert Frost's Stopping by woods on a Snowy Evening: Whose woods these are I think I know His house in the village though He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year He gives is harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake The woods are lovely, dark and deep But I have promises to keep And miles to go before I sleep And miles to go before I sleep. My poem: Where’s my Neverland?: Where’s my Neverland? I’ve got so much in my hand Meetings and school I know you do too We want an adventure But life forces expenditure Paying the bills By wasting our skills Wish I could read until 2 a.m. But, alas, an adult I am And my days are made up Of working towards a paystub I wish we were kids Lying down in our beds Looking out at the sky Where the stars are not shy People today are depressed and dismayed All the time worrying about being betrayed Worried about being laid off from work And still somehow not giving a "fork" Where is our Neverland? Where is our wish? Of fun-filled times and Mom’s favorite dish? Where’s our adventure filled with imagination and beauty? Of digging in sand to find pirate booty? The answer is simple, and yet oh so sad Those days are gone by, the best days we’ve had Those memories are all that we have Of those days made whole by a laugh But, worry not, for there’s always tomorrow So, please don’t obsess over yesterday’s sorrow Look straight ahead While lying in bed Dreaming of heaven Those days will be back soon I reckon Where sorrows will be traded for unending joy And kids in sandboxes again shout “AHOY” And we can always smell the finest of food And all work turns to play and we know that it’s good

I hope this answers all your questions and confirms that writers are in fact weird. :) And I hope the poetry was satisfactory.

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[edwinspaynes]

Do you think there is a way to ethically watch Sandman and Good Omens? What about Dead Boy Detectives?

Andddd this was why I originally turned off anons. I knew this was coming eventually, but I guess I'll respond just this once so everyone knows where I stand.

I don't love that I feel the need to disclose this, but I have personally experienced grooming and sexual assault in the past. So this post is coming from someone who has Been There and understands the importance of supporting victims. I also love all of the efforts NG-related fandoms have been putting into raising money for sexual assault charities. It's wonderful to see people rallying behind the survivors and supporting them so vocally.

- DEAD BOY DETECTIVES: NOT A GAIMAN WORK

I do not think that there is a world where Dead Boy Detectives would be unethical to stream. It has virtually nothing to do with Neil Gaiman, by his own admission, and is the brain-child of Steve Yockey.

Besides the first chapter where Charles and Edwin were introduced (with no development), he didn't even write the comics! Several artists did, including Toby Litt and Mark Buckingham - whose run the show is based on and who the sprites are named after.

Yockey was the sole person to pitch DBDA to Warner Brothers. Gaiman did not do that.

Streaming Dead Boy Detectives primarily supports its writers, cast, and crew - Gaiman, who only wrote 2 scenes, is getting essentially nothing in terms of royalties.

Someone on Twitter did a really good job of unpacking why Dead Boy Detectives shouldn't be lumped in with Gaiman stuff - I'll link it here.

But this leads me to the next section.

- HANDLING GOOD OMENS AND SANDMAN

I think that there are a lot of valid reactions to the way people handle the consumption of Gaiman's shows after what he has done.

Some people are going to be unable to stomach anything he has written, and that is okay. Others whose lives have been massively impacted by his work aren't going to be able to let go since - and I know people like to deny this, but it's true - the art you love more than love itself is going to have a serious material impact on your personality.

Both of these approaches are alright! The only incorrect approach is to harass those who disagree with your personal choices.

It also is, in my opinion, Bad to give Gaiman money. Purchasing his books and buying Good Omens official merch puts cash in his pocket.

Streaming the shows, though, is a little more nuanced to me.

I'm going to use Good Omens as an example here. I personally will not be continuing with Good Omens. It gives me a Yucky Feeling. I may one day change my mind and stream a pirated version, but I don't think so.

However, I don't think Sheen and Tenant's fans are wrong to stream it in support of the actors who have brought their favourite characters to life.

But this leads me into my next point, and the point that will probably get me Canceled.

- THE IMPACT OF SHOWS ON PEOPLE

The way that people handle their favourite shows post-allegations is going to depend on the impact that the show had on their life.

I like Good Omens. It's a fun show. I enjoyed it while watching it, and think (see: thought) positively of it. But it had no real deep impact on my life - it's not part of me. When I look at Good Omens now, I see Gaiman's work above the finished product. It puts a sour taste in my mouth.

But in a hypothetical world, if Dead Boy Detectives were a Gaiman production? I have the self-awareness to know that I probably would still stream it to support the cast and crew. I am attached enough to it that I think I would divorce it entirely from Gaiman (if he were the creator, which he is not.) My point is that other people who are still streaming Sandman and GO probably don't look at it and see Gaiman. They see something that they have absorbed into themselves.

The part that's going to get me canceled is that if George cameos in Sandman, I will stream that one (1) episode to support George Rexstrew (Edwin Payne's actor). This is because Edwin has had a material impact on my life (hilariously, because I am a sexual violence survivor who did not get justice, and Edwin did not get justice for his murder and fights for that.) I feel that Edwin is part of me and my life, because Edwin (and George's work as Edwin) has made me feel less alone.

A lot of people feel that way about Crowley and Aziraphale.

I think that asking people to ditch a show, characters, and performers that have had a deep impact on their lives is unfair to them. Like, yes, Neil Gaiman is a bag of shit! Anyone who defends him is also a bag of shit! But I don't think that it's fair to stop people from supporting works that have had big material impacts on their own lives.

- HOW TO PROCEED

TL;DR

My personal ideal outcome here would be:

Wrap up Good Omens with the 90-minute movie and nothing else.

Wrap up Sandman with season 2, and do not renew.

Revive Dead Boy Detectives WITH THE CAVEAT that Gaiman gets his name removed from it, even if he currently isn't making much money off it. Take the Sandman characters and references from DBDA and let it become its own standalone thing.

Cancel all future Gaiman productions and never hire him to work on television or anything else again.

Let Gaiman's career die entirely and let him fade into obscurity.

Arrest Gaiman, which will never happen but it should.

I think people should:

Stop giving Neil Gaiman money through books or merch.

Make their own decisions about whether or not to officially stream the shows in support of the actors and crew members who have worked hard on it.

Not harass anyone for either their decision to stream the show, not stream the show, or stream a pirated version of the show.

Engage as much as they want with fandom and fanworks, as they are divorced from the source material's creator.

Vocally speak up against Neil Gaiman. Amplify the voices of the survivors, and don't let fear for the future of your show get in the way of that. At the end of the day, real women were put through the most traumatic and horrifying experience of their lives, and that's what matters most.

[vitaray]

You can disagree with me, but I fucking hate what hotd did to Aegon as a character and how fandom (and his fans too) treats him.

The show has not only made him a comedic figure, but it has also made fun of him (every time they had the chance), humiliating and diminishing him as a secondary character. It's only due to TGC's performance that Aegon has been saved to some extent.

At this point I don't agree with most people on how they view him. Even his own fans by making him pathetic, stupid, good for nothing, just a pretty face little mew mew. He can be that sometimes for fun, but no. You miss the whole point of Aegon's character if that's how you view him.

When I think of Aegon, strength is the first word that comes to mind. Internal strength to overcome everything of what happened to him. To stand up, to accept his fate, to do whatever is needed: marry his sister, take the throne, fight for the throne and take revenge. Many others would gave up, run away or die in his place, but he didn't.

Aegon didn't want any of this, but he accepted it out of a sense of duty. Despite not being perfectly suited for the role, he takes responsibility and listens to those who are more knowledgeable. He wants to end the war swiftly, desires to be loved and make an impact as a ruler.

And let's not forget that he surges to every battle without fearing for his life (it might not be the best decision for a monarch), but it's also admirable.

He loves his family. And trusts them completely.

Aegon is not a fool to laugh at or someone who simply craves violence. He is a complex character (I know people like to laught at that for some reason) and, instead of constantly fighting for sides on who's more right or wrong, or "who's pretty/who's not", I wish fans would rather analyze and understand the nuances of his character and what he could have become with better writing.

[comicaurora]

Have you watched the new castlevania nocturne season?

Yes!

(Spoilers)

IT SLAPPED

My primary difficulty with season 1 is I didn't feel like I had enough time or reason to get attached to Richter, since he didn't get to do much in-depth character stuff while he was busy repressing the hell out of everything, and I think this season absolutely corrected for that. He's very lovable, and the animators even make him adorable sometimes, which is nice.

Annette! Queen of the season! She and Mel Medarda are shaking hands in the gold-trimmed magical girl transformation department. The way they portrayed her journey through the spirit world and the gods of her people was incredibly beautiful! The idea that, no matter how far away she is, the people she loves and the culture she hales from are never more than a step away. Gorgeous.

Vampirism is colonialism! Bathory claiming Sekhmet's power is colonialist appropriation! Drolta refused to leave her dead and at peace and became one of those who desecrated the tomb! The themes are incredibly simple and yet rock solid!

Maria's extremely understandable emotional breakdown in the beginning half of the season managed to avoid being tiresome, even though she was mostly causing problems because of it. I loved the scribbly animation of her dark portals, and the way they animated her eyes when she was really lost in it.

The narrative reframing of Big Badass Superheroes Kick Ass into a more grounded "we're just small people doing our best in a big, cold world, and the first battle is against our own despair" narrative felt extremely solid, and strangely comforting. Might just be me and my headspace, but I hate it when I'm stuck with a bad situation I can't brute-force my way out of. It's oddly reassuring to be reminded that even larger-than-life heroes in stories they're the main characters of can't just Gumption and Badass all the world's problems away in one fell swoop.

You can tell Alucard is kind of thrilled to be actually Old and Ethereal and Wise now. He was faking it so hard in original Castlevania.

They watched a SHITLOAD of DBZ before choreographing this season and it shows. Like. I'd say parts of it are explicit homage. Drolta getting bisected and her POV splitting in half Frieza-style, Richter and Alucard getting trapped in a timestop midair, and we even got Bathory being briefly sketchy-whited-out by a massive energy attack.

On that note, choreography and fighting styles! Richter fights in a completely distinctive way to everyone else, and I think they intentionally minimized his use of the whip to distinguish him from Trevor. Richter Throws Hands. Half his moves are boxing, and it felt like he was channeling Street Fighter whenever he got in close with anyone. You don't often get the combo of a spellchucker AND a brawler, and it was extremely rad.

He fucking volleyball-bumped Alucard's meteor attack. What the fuck. Hell yeah

[tookishcombeferre]

I'm a 30 year old transmasc non-binary person. I saw the movie Atlantis: The Lost Empire when I was 7 in the theater. My dad's dad had just died, and we weren't all that close. But, it really helped me to see Milo process the death of his own grandfather at the time. I think Atlantis came out about a year(?) after my dad's dad died? Anyway, I really always related to Milo even if I couldn't understand why at the time. (Now I get it.) I just watched the movie again because I wanted to, and my toddler watched bits and pieces with me while we shared some tea. They watched me *bawl.* My mom's dad, though we never got to talk about the fullness of my experience before he died a little less than two years ago, was the only family member who just understood me with no words. He never knew my name or pronouns - so he never used them. But, he got *me.* His yard was where I could climb trees, feed birds, roughhouse, and do all the "forbidden boyish" stuff. I watched Robin Hood and The Sorcerer's Stone in his living room. I built towers up to the ceiling. I got to read Frankenstein on his porch when I was in the seventh grade. I'm pretty sure my first unabridged copy of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries was purchased for me by him. He was basically my dad or second-dad. Later, he would listen to me talk about my papers, my poems, and my stories and, in turn, I'd listen to the latest of his research in biophysics, when he was still a researcher, or I'd listen to him explain, in layman's terms, the newest experiments he would read about after he stopped doing his own stuff. These were our lost civilizations and genuine arrowheads. When Mr. Whitmore handed Milo the Shepherd's Journal and said the line "Our lives are marked by the gifts we leave our children, and this is your grandfather's gift to you." My own kid was pillowed on my shoulder. I heard that line at 7. I cried in the theater because it's sad. You don't have to have lived the line for it be sad. I needed to learn loss young so I could feel loss better older. Because, now? That line collapsed on me like a ton of bricks, but I didn't get crushed by those bricks. I had a hard hat and padding to protect me. Like I said, my grandfather was like my dad. He's not coming back. But, he has given me so much. He has left me so much, and I get to decide what I want to leave to my own kid someday. I get to decide what world, what legacy, and what I leave for my own child. Because, it wasn't just the journal that Thaddeus left for Milo. It was the values that allowed Milo to remain steadfast when standing up to people physically stronger than him. I remember that right now. Especially right now. It's not just the intellectual gifts my grandfather left me. It's the tenacity. It's the love. It's protectiveness. It's the gentleness. It's the grace. It's the desire to be curious. It's the *need* to know. It's quiet faith. It's the desire to do justice. It's the desire to see peace for the next generation. It's the desire to listen to all sides of an argument before saying my own piece while also knowing when things have gone way too far and need to be shut down. It's knowing when and how to give people space to grow in their own way and time. Because, while everyone else in my family was forcing me into dresses, my grandfather was letting me climb trees in jeans and sneakers. He also didn't bat an eyelash when I cut my hair off my junior year of high school. So, he may not be here. But, he lives in the gifts he left me. So, while, I got my vaccine at 7, it didn't take effect until 28. Even then, I'm only just starting to feel like I'm actually inoculated at 30.

We can't be afraid to keep inoculating the youth. Kids need to see death, loss, and such like in their media. Withholding it from them just makes them less equipped for these exact moments when they're older. I firmly believe that.

Dear, sweet, Littlefoot, do you remember the way to the Great Valley?  I guess so. But why do I have to know if you’re going to be with me? I’ll be with you. Even if you can’t see me. What do you mean I can’t see you? I can always see you.

The Land Before Time(1988) dir. Don Bluth

[evilmenenjoyer]

Gratitude

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

SEQUEL to City of Love. Probably not a good fic to read as a stand-alone; read City of Love first for context.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dubious consent, rough sex after a fight, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, bruising, marking, pain play/sadomasochism, mirror sex, manhandling, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), lots of angst.

Tags: @apookalypse @thecutiepieishere / I do not have an official taglist yet, but I'd be willing to make one if people were interested. If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, or in any additions to this story, let me know somehow!

–––

It's three days later when you see him again, just when you were convinced he left Paris for good.

You knew it would take a lot longer for the reminders of him to leave your mind as well as your body. He's in the marks his hands left on your hips, in the scrapes and faint bruises along your back from when he tossed and squeezed you against the brick wall, in the ghost of his lips on your skin. You can still feel them every time you close your eyes, hear his voice whisper your name against your neck as he came.

It shouldn't surprise you, after everything, to have him knock on your door right as you’re getting ready to have a night out. It still nearly takes your breath away to see him, looking as impeccable as usual in his dark gray suit, smiling as if his mere presence doesn't rock your world upside down a third time.

“What part of ‘don’t ever contact me again’ did you not understand?” you ask, though right away you can tell you don't sound nearly as firm and assertive as you’d like. You wonder if he can tell you hoped, against every rational thought in your brain, that he would come back.

Judging by his smile, you’d bet he can.

“I couldn't help myself,” he responds, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Can I come in?”

That part of you that still clings to rationality, that can tell a good idea apart from a horrible one, lights up like a loud siren in your brain. There's nothing good that could possibly come out of this. Hasn't he toyed with you enough already? With his weird twisted games, tracking you down all the way to a foreign country, sending you off to those horrific games?

Still, you find yourself stepping aside, leaving a gap for him to come through. You’ve never been good at controlling your impulses, after all.

The apartment you’ve been renting for the time being stands in the heart of Paris. It looks exactly what you pictured a typical, glamorous Parisian apartment to look like – high walls, hardwood floors, large arched windows with a stunning view of the city and the Eiffel Tower. It's furnished with all the essentials, and nothing more. You didn't see the need to bring in new furniture or decorations when you didn't even know for how long you’d be staying in the city. At this point, you’re already considering moving on to somewhere else.

“Make yourself at home,” you say. “But I’m going out soon.”

“I see that.” His eyes run over you as he sits at the arm of the couch, shamelessly lingering on the black dress that hugs all your curves at the right spots. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You turn your back to him, looking for the earrings you had put down somewhere when you heard the knock on the door. You feel his body heat approach you from behind, his fingertips brushing against a red spot on your shoulder blade that the spaghetti straps of the dress fail to cover.

“Did I do this to you?”

His voice doesn't sound remorseful or apologetic at all. If only, there's a hint of pride to his tone, a small smile at the corner of his lip that you can tell is there without even looking at him. It should upset you, thinking of how roughly he pushed you against that wall, but it has goosebumps blooming all over your skin around the spot he touches.

“Who else would it be?” Your voice shakes ever so slightly against your will, and you clear your throat to get rid of it.

You expect him to pull back, but instead he inches even closer. He has to lean down to mold his chest to your back, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck when he speaks. “I can make it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” You turn your head just enough to chase after his lips. Screw the night out. He lets you capture them, indulging you in only a quick kiss before pulling away.

“I’m serious. I have something for you.”

“Oh.” You frown at the loss of contact, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

Your frown deepens, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Don't you trust me yet?” he asks.

No. Absolutely not. Still, what's the worst that can happen? What would he do while you have your eyes closed that he can't do right now; that he couldn't have done three nights ago at that bar, when you gave yourself to him so willingly?

You close your eyes, with a small sigh as if letting him know it's a nuisance. There's no real heat to it, and you both know it.

The Salesman’s hands find their way to your arms, guiding you further into the apartment. You follow his lead slowly, careful not to bump into any furniture or clutter you left around the place while picking an outfit and getting ready.

“You didn't have to give me a gift,” you say, still confused about what this is about. He stops walking the two of you, leaving you in an unknown part of the apartment. Your heart beats slightly faster than normal; distrustful, but excited. No man has ever bought you a gift before. Gifts are for girlfriends, for women they're trying to impress. Somehow, in all your years on this Earth, you’d missed out on being that woman to anyone.

“I was feeling romantic,” he explains. You feel something cold land over the exposed skin of your neck and chest, and he fiddles with a clasp at the nape of your neck. “Blame it on Paris. You can open your eyes.”

You do so, finding yourself standing in your bedroom, right in front of the large mirror resting against the wall. The necklace stands out against your skin – thin white gold chain and gemstones shining so bright you can immediately tell they're real, a ruby and a sapphire encrusted by tiny crystals. The color choice is an odd one for a necklace, prompting you to take a closer look. That's when any hints of a smile vanish from your face.

The gemstones are placed beside each other, the shapes and markings in them identical to those of the ddakji tiles you and the Salesman had played together in the subway station.

“I had it custom-made for you,” he says. Standing behind you, his reflection on the mirror takes up almost the entire background, but you don't pay him any mind. Your eyes are all but glued to the red and deep blue stones hanging from your neck, hoping against hope that you had seen it all wrong, that this was just a figment of your imagination and the real necklace will reveal itself if you just look hard enough.

It never does.

Reality hits you then. This isn’t some fun new fling, or the beginning of a Paris romance. This is the man who lured you into a horribly traumatic experience when you were at your most vulnerable, who came all the way from Seoul just to rub in your face that you didn't deserve to make it out of there alive. And now here he is. Prying his way into your apartment, your body, your mind. And you just let him.

Horror floods you, nearly pushing you to your knees right here. You touch the pendant with shaky fingers, and it takes everything in you not to grab the chain and yank it off your neck. Finally, your eyes meet the Salesman’s in the mirror.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He blinks innocently. “You don't like it?”

“Why would you do this?” you ask, unsure of whether you want to burst into tears or slap him in the face.

His fingers join yours where they rest on the necklace, only grazing your skin on their way to touching the pendant. “I thought you'd like a reminder.”

That makes you spring into action, pulling away from him and pushing his hand away with a ferocity you didn't know you still had, not since the Squid Games.

“A reminder? What makes you think I want to remember that shit?” You raise your voice; something to make up for how small you feel, by the way you need to tilt your head to look him in the eye. “If I could erase that night from my memory for the rest of my life, I would.”

“I find that hard to believe. Would you erase our night together at the bar as well?” His eyes leave yours only to look back to the mirror behind you. “Look at you. Wearing those bruises so proudly.”

For a moment all you can do is stare at him, unable to believe the sheer audacity he has to stand in your house and say these things. The worst of it all is you can’t fully deny it – you picked the dress deliberately knowing it left the upper part of your back exposed, happy to catch glimpses of the bruises he left you with if you happened to stumble upon a mirror or reflective surface throughout the night.

“I would,” you insist. “What the fuck makes you think I’d want to remember the night that ruined my life?”

A laugh comes out of him; a short, but cruel sound. “I ruined your life, is that what you're saying?”

You scoff. “Don't act like you don't know you did.”

He steps even closer to you. You refuse to step back, even when it feels like his chest is about to bump into your forehead. “Your life,” he says, “was already shit way before I came around. Debt, an awful job, an even worse home, no future prospects, no friends. What exactly was there about your life that was good enough to be ruined?”

Rage consumes you to hear him talk like that about your old life. Things were bad, yes, but there was a positivity about you that's been lost ever since you stepped foot in those games. You could barely make ends meet, and your shifts were long and exhausting, but you had hopes of going to school, of turning your life around. Your home was a tiny, shitty house in an even shittier neighborhood, but you still took the effort to decorate it and try to make it feel more like a home. Where did that go? Now, you have all the money you could ever wish for, and all you do is spend it on clothes and expensive trips you don't even have the motivation to enjoy, your only goal being getting far away from Seoul.

“At least I felt like a fucking person! Do you even know what that’s like? Feeling human?” you all but yell, grateful for the language barrier in case any neighbors happen to be listening. “I’d never killed anyone. I’d never wanted to kill anyone! I didn't have nightmares, and I didn't wake up every day wondering if I deserve to be alive after everything I did to survive!”

“You had nothing,” he reminds you, his voice cold as the winter outside. “Not even your dignity. Or did you forget how we met? How you asked me to play ddakji with you, willing to get hit in the face repeatedly not for money, but just to have my attention?”

You hold back a sob, shaking your head furiously, but it's of no use. The words sting hard enough to bring tears to your eyes; it stings even more to know they're true. 

“Get out of my apartment,” you demand. You wish you'd never let him in. You wish you'd never met him at all.

“Things are different now,” he says, ignoring your order completely. “You’re rich, and you’ve matured. You’ll never struggle again in your life, if you're smart.”

“I said GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Finally at your breaking point, you push him, shoving at his chest as hard as you have the strength to. He barely budges. It's only then that you notice how cornered he’s got you, your back about to bump into the mirror.

He brings his hand towards your face, cupping your chin and forcing you to look higher up at him. You thrash and claw at his wrist, trying to push it away from you, but he only tightens his grip until it's almost painful. There’s a darkness in his eyes that’s unlike any expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“I made you stronger. You're a millionaire now because of me,” he says. “How about a little gratitude?”

Even from your position, you still manage an incredulous scoff at him. “Gratitude?”

“Yes.” A grin stretches the corner of his lips, not a trace of warmth of friendliness behind it. “You should be thankful I pulled you out of your misery.”

He moves faster than you’re ready to, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you down. You brace yourself for the impact of your head hitting the floor, gasping in surprise when your back bounces over the soft mattress instead. He hovers above you, using his heavier body to pin yours down before you even have the chance to start struggling against his grip.

“Get off me!”

“Calm down.” He holds both your wrists together with one hand, while the other manages to somehow pull your panties off your body, using your kicking legs as leverage. Your eyes widen in shock. “I’m just giving you another reminder.”

“W-what?” Your voice wavers with fear. All that fury is slowly but surely being replaced with it, or with a mixture of both feelings that leaves you heaving for breath.

He doesn't have to pull your dress up – your own struggle does it by itself, leaving the fabric rumpled up at your hips and your bottom exposed. You stop kicking him in an attempt to cover yourself, and he takes advantage of that fraction of a second to stick his knee on the spot on the mattress between your legs, stopping you from shutting them. You gasp, the heavy pressure on your core cutting off all your thoughts for a moment. You can think of nothing to do other than to yell for help.

As if reading your thoughts, his free hand covers your mouth.

You voice your displeasure through a muffled grunt. You keep on struggling, trying to kick him off you, but each movement unintentionally rubs your bare clit over his thigh that pins you down. He applies even more pressure and you cry out, mortified to feel heat pooling between your legs.

“Christ, you're wet. I can feel it.”

You can feel it too, the fabric of his pants damp and hot where it connects with you. You're torn on whether to keep fighting and essentially humping his leg or giving up, if only to have a few instants of relief.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he warns in a hoarse whisper. “Do you understand?”

Out of options, you nod.

He releases your mouth, then your wrists. It occurs to you to scream anyway, but you force yourself to remember who you're dealing with. He wouldn’t give you empty threats. Anyone involved in bringing people into those games has no qualms about slitting your throat open and leaving you to bleed out on your silk sheets.

The Salesman makes his way down your body, now holding onto your legs with his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you manage to ask, the answer rather obvious but it had all happened so fast, leaving you dazed and confused.

“Giving you yet another reason to be thankful to me.”

The sudden, damp feel of his tongue on your entrance overcomes your senses, and you wouldn't be able to hold back a shout if you tried.

Fortunately, he forgives you for it. You squirm under the sensations, but he holds your hips down against the mattress in a firm grip, immobilizing them completely and prying you open all at once. You hoist yourself up over your elbows only to be met with your own reflection on the mirror across the room, your hair a mess already and your face contorted in fear and pleasure and indignation all at once. You can’t bear to watch yourself like this, mortification entrenched into every muscle of your body that reacts to his touch as he continues to penetrate you with his tongue. You fall back towards the mattress with a broken moan.

“God– Y-you can’t–” Whatever you were about to say dies out in your throat as his lips rise to your clit, enveloping you so expertly in the wet heat of his mouth. You clench your whole body, eyelids all the way down to your toes, and for a moment you’re grateful for the hands that hold your legs open just so you don’t have to face the shame of spreading them wider.

Your hands, perfectly capable of putting up a fight once they’d been released, twist into the sheets beneath you, holding on like your life depends on it. You curse yourself for not trying harder to push him off, for not really wanting to; for always being so unwilling to say no to him. Moans leave your lips like they’re being ripped out of you, growing in volume like you just can’t help it. It makes you wish one of the pillows were within reach so you could bury it against your face and muffle them, or simply to hide yourself from how incredibly good it feels to be at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long at all. Say whatever you want about the Salesman, but this is a man who knows what he’s doing with his tongue. In only a few minutes he reduces you to whimpers and pleading, your orgasm hitting you like a wave crashing full-force over the shore. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a long moan, and he continues to dine on you like a starving man until the moment you fall backwards, spent.

When you come back to yourself, you’re covering your face with your hands as he presses kisses to the line of your inner thigh. You feel him make his way up your body, feel his hands on your wrists, gently moving them out of the way and exposing your face, the deep flush that has colored your cheeks.

Looking into his eyes, you’re overcome with a rush of emotions you’re not sure how to name. How can a person make you feel so many things at once? How can you still want him – ardently, desperately, profoundly want him – after everything? How can he be so addictive, leaving you already hooked from the scraps of attention he’s given you? You tilt your head just a tiny bit towards him, a silent invitation, and he leans in the rest of the way to take your lips in his.

He kisses you deeply, hungrily, holding you through the shudders that run through your body from the aftershocks of your orgasm until they subside. Kisses you like you’re more than just a hookup, tempting you to believe there must be something about you that’s special. Kisses you for long enough to get you drunk in it, like he’s happy to do nothing but this for the rest of his life.

The next time he pulls back, he removes his suit jacket and tie. You somehow manage to help him unbutton his white shirt, motivated by the promise of feeling his bare skin on yours. You nearly forget his pants are still on, letting him work on that as you press kisses to down his neck. Of course his body is as perfect as his face. He makes an approving sound that you can feel on his throat, and you follow the vibrations of his vocal chords until his pulse point, pleased to find his heartbeats as fast as yours. You can’t resist taking the skin there between your teeth.

He growls, hands tightening on your hips and flipping you on the bed so you’re facing the other side, your back to him. You hold onto the bed frame to steady yourself, body half-bent forward.

You expect him to thrust into you without warning, just as he had the last time. Before that, he brings a hand underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards, your sight landing squarely on your joined reflection on the mirror.

“Keep your eyes right there.” Now he enters you, and you watch your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion. “Watch yourself get fucked on my cock.”

The sheer filth in his voice prompts you to obey, to look. Your knuckles turn white on the bedframe and your body rocks forward with each of his thrusts; slow at first, but steadily gaining power and speed. He reaches down to rub your clit in circles, and it makes your body jerk to feel it and see it at the same time, to watch your reactions in real time. The sight of the necklace still hanging from your neck prompts you to look away, a confirmation of what’s actually happening to you that you’re not prepared to stare in the face.

His hand leaves your clit to wrap itself into your hair, yanking it back. Your body arches to follow it, your reflection on the glass confronting you once again.

“I said look,” he says into your ear. “Don’t you wanna see what a pretty mess you are for me?”

You shake your head, although his death grip on your hair makes it difficult to move. That’s precisely the issue: seeing the mess that he made you into, seeing yourself so overwhelmed and dirty and ashamed, the sounds leaving you suggesting nothing other than aching, raw need. It’s too much. It doesn’t stop you from pushing your hips back to meet his, trying to match his rhythm. 

He angles his thrusts to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Oh God,” you croak, feeling the heaviness of tears behind your eyes and another orgasm fast approaching.

Just when you’re close, impossibly close to your release, he stops. You watch him on the mirror, panting just for a moment before he pulls out of you and releases your hair. You’re about to protest, or maybe plead for mercy, but he pushes you to lay on your back on the bed again, back inside of you before you can even think of a sentence.

“How about that thank you now?” He pounds into you, somehow even deeper from this position.  “Say it.”

“Shut up,” you say instead. The pause, brief as it was, only served to make you more desperate to come, and the last thing you need right now is to hear this. “Please just shut up.”

The necklace gleams over your chest, catching his attention. The Salesman runs a thumb over the sapphire, as if contemplating something, before he presses down on the pendant hard, digging it into your skin.

You gasp, throwing your head back. He’s moving fast enough that the bed rocks underneath you, the headboard slamming into the wall, his fingers still on the necklace like he wants to imprint it into your chest. It fucking hurts, the sharp metal edges unrelenting, digging in hard enough to leave a bruise. It makes your body sing, awakes the deeply-hidden, fucked up parts of you that crave this kind of pain.

“Every time you wake up,” the Salesman says, slightly out of breath himself, but much more composed than you, “and you look out of the window and see Paris, or anywhere that’s not the gutter in Seoul, you thank me for saving you.” He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust. “Say it.”

You don’t want to say it. Saying it makes you feel like it’s true, like you should give in and believe what he’s saying. That you are a piece of trash who got lucky, after all, and you should thank him for anything close to success that you achieve from now on. But your orgasm is so close you can feel the force of it numb your ears, your wrists; and in this moment, you would say anything, do anything, so long as he keeps you feeling this good.

“Thank you,” the words are just barely above a whisper, like you wish you could keep them to yourself as a shameful secret.

“For what?”

He gives you another hard thrust, almost painful if only the lines between pain and pleasure hadn’t been blurred a long time ago. You push your chest into an arch, the pendant digging even deeper into you until it breaks skin and the pain turns into agony.

“F-for saving me.”

“Good girl.”

You come then, thinking about the mark that the necklace will leave on you, thinking about how you’re going to feel it for days, how you’re going to remember it every time you feel it or see it. That there will be evidence on your body that he touched you this passionately. It feels like you’re floating, rising to the sky as you clench and unclench around him, as sound after humiliating sound leaves you.

You collapse back against the mattress when your orgasm finally lets you go, boneless and spent. You didn’t see or hear him come – in another situation, it might’ve upset you to miss it, if you weren’t still riding the aftershocks of that incredible high –, but he’s still against you, breathing hard into your neck. His release leaks from between your legs. He stays like that for a long time, slowly softening inside of you, before he finally pulls out and away from you.

You stay right where you are, unmoving. Somewhere far away, you think you can hear him searching for his clothes and dressing himself. You don’t want it to upset you, but it does; because of course he would come here, humiliate you, give you the best fuck of your life and then immediately leave, without so much as a word to you. Your head falls to the side, and even that small movement feels incredibly difficult, like your entire body is a limb that has fallen asleep. Your vision is blurry, far-away, until it finally focuses on the large window that overlooks the city. Tiny snowflakes flutter over the city lights and the dark night sky.

“It’s snowing.”

That pulls his attention to you. He’s got his pants and shirt on, the first few buttons undone, his once perfectly-styled hair a mess. He follows the line of your gaze to the window. “Were you looking forward to it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” It feels like forever ago since the last time you even thought about it. The Salesman was right; the city is beautiful at this time of the year.

You expect him to return to his clothes then head out the door. Instead, he reaches for the covers over the bed and wraps your naked body up in them like a baby. “Ow,” you hiss when he moves you, pain exploding on your chest where the necklace was pressed against you. A few drops of blood dry on your skin from when the skin had split. You feel the Salesman lift you bridal-style, much to your surprise, but you’re still too dazed to find it in you to question it.

He sits you both on the thick windowsill, him behind you and you leaning against his chest, framed by his legs. It’s gentle, somehow more intimate than you’ve ever been with him even after sleeping with him twice. You watch the snowfall outside, mesmerized, letting the steady rise-and-fall of his chest behind you soothe your aching muscles.

It’s the closest to safe you’ve felt in what feels like forever, and you’re crying before you even realize it.

Once it starts, it’s impossible to stop it. Your body trembles with the force of your sobs, tears flowing from your eyes like they haven’t since you were a little kid, at least not this openly. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against himself and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, keeping his lips right there against your scalp. He rocks you ever so slightly, shushing your cries, the sound as soothing as a soft lullaby. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sob. You think about the snow in Seoul, about how the first snowfall always made you excited, even when it happened every year. You can feel your tears rolling down your cheeks and into your neck, your collarbones. “I want to go home.”

“Then go home,” he says, like it’s simple.

“I can’t.” How can you walk the same streets you always did, as if your life wasn’t completely changed? As if the price you paid for this change wasn’t much, much greater than you could deal with? “You’re right. I have nothing. No one.”

“You had nothing. You can have anything you want now.” You want to tell him there are things money can’t buy, but you’re so tired, so exhausted. You can’t muster the willpower for much other than wallowing in your own misery, weeping in his arms like a child. “And you have me.”

That only makes you cry harder, shaking your head. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Look at me.” He nudges you to turn to him, the angle awkward but it’s so worth it the second he cups your face in both hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I mean it. Come back to Seoul.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your heavy eyelids. “You just need to see things from a different perspective. I can help you.”

He coaxes you to lay back against him, and you do so without protest, burying your face into his chest. For a moment you actually consider it. Dropping the plans you had for a next trip and following him to Seoul, letting him finish corrupting you with whatever twisted worldview he has. Maybe it would be blissful, you think, to see all that violence and bloodshed as a blessing, as something that saved you rather than ruined you. It has to be a trap, or another one of his games. But it doesn’t hurt to dream about it, just a little bit.

Little by little your crying subsides, your breaths returning to normal. He holds you through it all, stroking your hair in a way that’s so tender, so soft, like you’re fragile. Like he cares about you, or even loves you.

You silently wonder if he can love anyone at all, much less someone as broken as you.

With his fingers drawing circles on your scalp, you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

–––

You wake up alone. You’re still naked but on the bed, tucked into your blankets. There’s no confusion over what happened last night, no delusions that your brain would come up with a dream like that. There’s only memories hitting you like a truck, one after the other, and it’s too fucking early for this.

You pull yourself into a sitting position, and you jump at the sight of yourself on the mirror. You barely notice the smudged makeup from last night, your eyes going straight to the star of the show: the angry red spot right on the center of your chest, already turning into a deep purple at the center. You flinch before you even touch it, your hand hanging in the air halfway through like you’ve changed your mind. The necklace finishes it off like the cherry on top of the cake, the pair of precious stones right next to each other like eyes watching you, mocking you.

You button your coat all the way up before you leave the house.

It’s still early enough that the sun has just begun rising, coloring the sky in a bright blue that bleeds into the buildings and streets. There’s probably nothing open right now, but you could really use some coffee. Or a drink. Probably a drink.

You find him at Pont Neuf, watching the river below. There’s no one else around, the city in a rare moment of quiet and peace. He hasn’t spotted you yet, seemingly lost in thought, and it occurs to you that you could sneak up behind him, push him over the edge and just keep on walking. Sever your ties to him forever, and simply keep going like nothing ever happened, bury it along with all the other memories you try so hard to forget.

You don’t do it, but knowing you could brings you a bit of comfort. You lower your head and keep walking in the opposite direction, not sparing him another glance.

[yuuuuuuslazy]

Pickup lines Enhypen boys would say (⁠⌐⁠■⁠-⁠■⁠)

Including : all enha boys

Warnings : pet names, a bit suggestive on NI-KI's

Genre : 99% fluff

HEESEUNG (rizzseung)

Something corny you'll both cringe at after he says it and looks at you while biting his lips although you love it. (He's hot.)

He suddenly speaks up as you're making morning coffee for the both of you.

"Sugar dissolves in water. Remember not to walk in the rain or I'll lose a sweetie like you"

JAY

Sweet and simple ones to cheer you up. He uses the same ones all over again but you still love hearing it after a bad day at work.

"Remind me to thank you mom"

"For what?"

"For giving birth to my pretty girl"

It works wonders for you mood after having to face your shitty boss.

JAKE

Also sweet and simple sometimes maybe it comes in a joke. Usually to rizz you up.

He comes in the room all of a sudden and tells you "knock knock"

"who's there?" You answered him removing your focus from your computer to face him.

"where when"

"where when who?"

"my place, tonight, you and me"

...

"Jake we live in the same house."

"I don't knaur it sounded so much better in my head!!"

SUNGHOON (rizzhoon)

Would probably praise himself in the process of saying his pickup line. You love his confidence and he loves you. Who are you to NOT play along with the ice prince? He calls you princess most of the time plus he's clingy when you're alone.

"Princess?" He calls out.

"Yeah?"

Silence.

..."Yes my most handsome and charming ice prince who I've sworn to eternity withhhh?"

"Better. Anyways I think those gaps between your fingers should be filled with mine. I can't hold conversations but I can hold you.

He strolls in, shuts your computer, picks you up and goes to cuddle you on the couch. Guess you're not finishing that report by tonight like how you're supposed to.

SUNOO

He learns them from heeseung resulting in fairly weird pick up lines or ones that take a while to understand. Sometimes he gets it wrong because heeseung wanted to tease him.

"Baby can I tie your shoes? Don't you want to fall for me again."

"Sunoo it's "don't want you to fall for someone else"! "

Heeseung told him the right one but he kept practicing in his head over and over again that he mixed it up but you find it adorable.

JUNGWON

The members hyped him up to do this to you. Sometimes he looks it up online and waits for the perfect moment to strike.

"Are you mixed?"

"What?" He asks you all of a sudden after coming out of the shower.

"Cuz look you're half fine and half mine."

"You're shower thoughts are something else Wonnie."

NI-KI (Nishimura Rizzki y'all he's bias wrecking me so hard nowadays)

You looked up haunted houses to go to on your date with Riki and while scrolling he speaks up.

"Why do you wanna go to a haunted house?"

"the thrill seems ni-" he cuts you off before you finish to say his line.

"I can make you scream at home too~"

"...RIKI-"

Conclusion you made? Riki is freaky. It even rhymes!

[rafeysdeer]

imperfect for you (aka insecure reader x comforting rafe)

kook!reader x rafe cameron

prompt: a party that was supposed to be relaxing and to clear the head goes terribly wrong, leaving a very anxious and insecure reader, good thing she has her very caring boyfriend who knows exactly how to take care of her.

a/n: okay, that's the first time i write for rafe, i really like obx and rafe, so i tried my best in here, but i didn't really like it, i think it's bcs it's my first time writing about him. english is not my first language, i hope you guys like it 💗

You weren't exactly excited about going to this party, but you knew your boyfriend was, and you didn't want to be a party pooper, and at least you'd be with him, nothing bad would happen if you gave up and went to a party, right?

Well, you were wrong, terribly wrong, even though you were a kook, you never exactly fit in, you never got the right friends, and even though you were pretty, guys just didn't seem to be interested in you.

That was until, Rafe Cameron laid eyes on you, in your little sundress, having a drink at the club, just looking for some peace, you looked almost ethereal in his eyes, and he just knew you were meant to be together, it took a while to convince you of that. You spent most of the talk thinking it was some bad joke, because there was no way, Rafe Cameron, the king of kooks, was there, talking to you, interested in you and not on your hot friend, or literally anyone else.

You two get along almost instantly, his charm had you wrapped around his finger, and you loved it.

It had been months since you two started dating, but you still didn't feel like you fit into his social circle. So when, the first moment he separated from you at the party, a girl purposely bumped into you, spilling her drink on your short dress and whispering 'Whore' in your ear, you were sure.

Rafe didn't get it why you suddenly looked so upset, but he wanted everything, but to see his girl upset, so when he suggested for you, that you two go home, you happily headed towards the truck.

"Sweetheart, you need to talk to me. What the hell happened that you suddenly look like a kicked puppy?" and it only took his playful words for you to burst into tears in the passenger seat, it wasn't just the girl or the stained dress, everything looked too much, and you looked so small, a girl being an bitch was all you needed to lose it.

Rafe immediately looked at you with his blue eyes filled with concern. "Hey, love, I was just kidding, you don't look like a kicked puppy, I swear." he says trying to understand what happened to make you break down.

You looked up at him, your pretty eyes shining with tears. "I just-, I don't feel like I fit in, Rafey, like i fit right in with you, but i'm just unwanted by everyone else," she says, her voice cracking with tears. "I tried to fit in, but I've been around these people my whole life, and they've never liked me, and now I feel like I'm holding you back, or making them look down at you"

Now, he looks like a kicked puppy as he looks at you with a worried expression. "Honey, you don't have to fit in, those people at the party, they don't like me either, they look at me like shit too and that's not your fault, not at all, you don't need to fit in with them because you think you have to because of me, the only person I need by my side, is you."

She blinks her bright eyes at him, as if the words had run away from her mind. The car stops in front of the house, and he gets out, opening the door for her, greeting her with a kiss before the words even come back to her. "I love you, no matter what any of those assholes think, because you're the one who's here for me, not them."

She looks at him, looking almost wonderstruck, a smile breaking across her face, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The only person I need is you, Rafe," she says, knowing that the feeling was mutual. "What do you say we go inside, put you in some comfy clothes, and watch Sex and the City?" She laughs at how well he knows her as they walk into the house, his hand around her waist.

"Sounds perfect."

[digestive]

The whole scent thing might be a wire and cloth mother related psychological reason, you associate warmth and comfort with love whilst a lack of it dosent interest us, which can be part of the reason couple swap clothes in order to feel closer to each other and the scent we associate with them let's us remember them as well during those moments when we feel safe.

But regarding us acting like scientists, we live in a society where something we don't understand is plastered everywhere and is seen as natural, whereas we cannot quite grasp it and therefore our curiousity comes into play and that's when the mental lab coat might come out to play.

Personally I can't relate emotionally or experience wise cause they view romance and sex in such a different light, and personally both of these things were stuff I thought I 'had' to do later in life.

Which might be why now I want to understand them because like, people want this?? For real?? It's just such a different lifestyle.

But I mean, if we were talking about learning of a different culture, such as celtic or asian, it wouldn't be an issue cause these are people who live their lives differently and you would be curious how it differs from your own.

Alloallos for me is a similar thing. This is something that I cannot fathom and/or there is tons of shit I didn't even realise because its not my scene. Took me a while to realise that cherries are considered 'sexy' cause they're associated with sex and losing your virginity and allos use the stems to judge how well they kiss by tying a knot in it.

I still don't get it, probably wont ever get why they do all these things, but I know they do it as part of their own way enjoy their sexuality and romantic orientation.

So maybe the best way to stop feeling fucked up about being aroace is instead to see our experiences on a similar level to allos in a way that lets us know the reality of being alloallo or aroace and how we navigate our identities and the reasons for these behaviours.

Plus I like having that scientist in my brain becuase they help me remove the stigma I have for my sexuality and romantic orientation day by day by showing me the bigger picture and letting me conduct my own mind experiments and develop hypothesises for romance and sex in order to feel less alienated from the alloallos. And maybe that's the purpose of it.

Acting like a scientist can ground us and give us a dynamic where we feel more in control regarding these romantic and sexual behaviours we happen to see, and we don't have to feel negatively if we can follow a fiction narrative that gives us the autonomy to question things and make discoveries about stuff that confuses us.

It's a way to connect with others while allowing ourselves to have room to be okay with not fitting the mould.

this is really weird but part of my aroace experience is viewing allo people like a scientist would view a living specimen in an experiment

its like. they do something and i observe and note their behavior. i know this sounds super fucked up but here is something that happened today:

my sister was showing me her texts from her boyfriend and he was saying stuff like "if u want i can spray a shirt with my cologne to give to u" or "i'll give u my hoodie to wear"

and i just looked at her and said "people exchange clothes because they like each others scent? fascinating." and i felt like a freaking scientist observing a new species' behavior. i promise its not as weird as it sounds. im not uncomfortable with romance/sex (for other people), i just have no idea how it works.

im curious do any other aspecs have experiences like this? or is it just me?

[genderqueerdykes]

what's your take on (usually cis but not always) lesbians not wanting to date bisexuals? I never really understood that. I feel like a lot of the reasoning presents as biphobic, plus most of the people I ask shoot me down and call me inherently lesbophobic for not understanding, so I'm not sure how to feel about it

it's really just bullshit and i'm glad you decided to ask!

this behavior definitely has its roots in lesbian separatism. there was a push in lesbian spaces in i want to say the late 80's to early 90's to remove anyone who wasn't a "Woman Loving Woman". they started kicking anyone out who associated with men at all. they also started kicking out butches who were "too butch", trans men, and any other men and mascs who may have attended the space. and they started inventing all kinds of weird words like Womyn and asserting that women and lesbians were superior to everyone else.

it got really out of control. during that time it was really common for lesbians to reject bisexual women, especially if they had ever slept with a man. for. whatever reason. i don't know if they think they get guy cooties by proxy or what, but they were so staunch about it that they would just. refuse to interact with you if you even had friends who were men. it got that bad. they were kicking out bisexual women and people because they were tainted now, or whatever. a bisexual woman was no longer pure or whatever the hell. lesbians and their partners had to be STRICTLY Womyn Loving Womyn or else they don't belong in lesbian spaces. they became SUPER pushy about it being for lesbians ONLY and NOT those "gross filthy bisexuals".

that's why we're seeing this now. we're seeing a resurgence of this rhetoric in real time. radfems are now what the lesbian separatists were back then. same group of people, different name. they change hats every few decades but their politics stay the same. it's dumb as bricks because if you ask me, you're not entitled to know who your partner has been with before they got together with you. you don't need to know that. and it doesn't change anything about you if your partner chooses to date or sleep with multiple genders. it's just petty. they would act like that person was a man now just because they associated with men and would treat them like an icky parasite. it's seriously just unreal how these people think and act. and it's still normalized in lesbian culture to this day

bisexuals can be in lesbian relationships. bisexuals can be lesbians. lesbians can date bisexuals. the world will not come grinding to a halt if a lesbian marries a woman who has slept with men. that doesn't make that person "tainted". people gotta stop with this weird culty bullshit. we're not treating people as individuals anymore. it's gross.

[aphroditelovesu]

Can I request yandere alphabet for Will Graham?

❝ 🔪 — lady l: oh, I missed writing to him :( I love this sad man who clearly has mommy issues. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 💙

❝tw: yandere themes, obsessive and possessive behavior, kidnapping, mention of death, punishments and murder.

❝🔪pairing: yandere!will graham x gender neutral!reader.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Will likes to touch you, whether it’s soft or firm, he likes to have his hands on you. He’ll never admit it, but he’s hungry for touch and for your love, and he loves touching you and being touched in return.

His favorite form of affection is spending time with you, doing something you both enjoy. Will likes to take you fishing with him, to enjoy the silence with you while he gives you furtive glances and smiles that only you have the privilege of seeing.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Very messy.

Will, although he tries to fight his inner darkness, still has it and when it comes to you, your safety and happiness, he can become his most ruthless self. He will kill, disembowel and even go so far as to torture anyone who poses a risk or, depending on how obsessed he is, tries to steal you from him.

He may feel guilty about the carnage later but it won't last long. It never does when it comes to you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Will tries to be patient with you and he is. He knows that you are stressed and scared because of the kidnapping and he will try to remain as calm and distant as possible so as not to make you more scared.

But his patience is not infinite. If you continue to reject his attempts to get closer to you, Will can and will become more firm in his approaches. His touch, which was once gentle, will become firmer and leave some marks on your skin. He will feel guilty, however, after seeing the bruises and will apologize several times. He does not want you to hate him, you cannot hate him.

Will will not mock you. He loves you too much to do that to you, to mock your pain and fear.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He will force himself into your life, his constant and eventually sole presence in your life. Will may force some touching, like hugging, holding your hand, and even kissing, but he will not sexually abuse you or do anything to that level.

Will is going to force his overwhelming love on you and that's final.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Will is careful at first. He knows that you don't feel the same way about him yet, and as much as it hurts, he can't just force those feelings on you, unfortunately.

He will show you his heart little by little, as you get used to his presence. Little by little, you will have Will Graham's heart in your hands, yours to love and care for, even to break. But don't break it, Will wouldn't be able to handle it and you would suffer the consequences.

His vulnerability will depend on how much he trusts you. In the beginning, Will will be careful not to show too much of what he feels and thinks, but as time goes by, his defenses will break down and he will be more vulnerable and accessible to you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Will is going to be upset but he understands. His ability to empathize with anyone helps him understand why you are fighting with him, rejecting him.

It hurts but he understands.

Will will avoid taking it out on you and will try to calm you down, whispering in your ear as he ties you back to the bed. He can't risk you getting hurt or hurting him, so Will can and will restrain you if necessary.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No, it's definitely not a game for Will. He loves you more than anything in his life and he wants you to love him back.

He hates it when you try to run away from him because that's a form of rejection and Will doesn't accept rejection from you in any way. He'll drag you back home screaming and kicking if necessary, but if you won't run away and any freedom you had before will be taken away.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

If you try to run away from him, Will is going to become more firm and cold, even aggressive in his approaches. If you had any freedom before, you will no longer have it. Every day and minute of your life will be spent with him, locked in the house. Will would be so paranoid about the prospect of you running away that he would follow you even to the bathroom if he could, but usually he waits outside (if it is platonic).

There will be no privacy, not a single minute of your life will be spent alone, always with Will's watchful eyes on you. Will is going to make sure you know that you made a grave mistake by betraying him in this way and will make you feel guilty.

Will is an excellent manipulator, after all.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Will would like to settle down in a more secluded location (more than where he lives) with you and your dogs. If he is a romantic yandere, Will would like to marry you and have children, whether adopted or biological, he wants a family with you either way.

The ideal future for him is for you to be isolated from the rest of society and together forever. With a dog and human family to come.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Will gets jealous very easily, especially if it's early in your relationship.

He doesn't fully trust you yet and knows that you're not completely comfortable with him yet, so he's more likely to get jealous easily. Will won't kill anyone who looks at you, but he will get upset about it, especially if your attention isn't on him.

Will is more likely to isolate you if he gets too jealous; if you had any contact with friends or family, you won't anymore. Not until you learn that you belong to him. And you will learn.

You won't have much of a choice, not when he's your only companion.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Will is very affectionate with you. Although he is not the biggest fan of physical contact at first, as your relationship progresses, he will feel more comfortable showing himself to be needy.

He touches you whenever he can, even if it is in subtle ways. A hand on your shoulder, lifting your chin, caressing your face and kissing your forehead affectionately. Will likes to show that he loves you in a physical way.

He likes to kiss your lips, whether it is a chaste kiss or a more passionate one, but your mouth on his is something he really enjoys, even if it was a forced kiss.

Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Will is more subtle about how he approaches you. He'll watch you from afar at first, his eyes never leaving your form, afraid that you might disappear if he did.

He's not necessarily shy, just... Bad at approaching you directly, insecure, although once he becomes more confident, Will will be more direct and make it clear that he's interested in you. He'll probably even come up to you and ask you out if he's more confident, but at first he'll just watch you from afar.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes and no. Everyone already believes that Will is weird, that there is something wrong with him, and Will doesn't really care what these people think, but he does care what you think.

Will doesn't want you to be afraid of him unless it's absolutely necessary. If it's not necessary, he'll try his best to hide his dark tendencies for your sake, smiling gently as he touches your hand and dismisses your concerns.

But if Will is in a really difficult state of mind, he'll be more rigid and even more controlling, the mask he wears with you slipping for a moment.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Will is never going to physically hurt you on purpose. He will never raise a hand to you, he doesn't want to and he knows it would be pointless anyway.

His punishments are simpler but effective. Will becomes more controlling and you can't even breathe wrong around him, because you will receive harsh looks. The way he touches you will be firmer, squeezing your arm lightly or staring at you in a way that will make your blood run cold.

You will feel his disapproval, the hard look that will never leave you. And he knows it is enough to scare you.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Will is going to take away your privacy rights and obviously your right to leave the house.

He doesn't want you to feel bad, he really doesn't, but Will won't let you go or let you have any privacy. He loves you too much to even consider the idea that there is some part of you, something about you, that he doesn't know. No, Will wants to know everything about you, from the moles on your body to your most embarrassing childhood moments.

Don't hide anything from him because he will find out and he will be upset that you "hid" it.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Will has this whole empathy thing going on, so he knows what you're going through, what you're feeling. He knows you're scared, and even though it hurts, he understands.

He'll try to be as patient as possible with you, giving you space and trying to make you comfortable with your new life with him. He'll do whatever he can to help you adjust to your new life.

Will knows how to be patient, after all, he's a good fisherman.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you die, Will is going to kill himself. It's that simple. He can't bear the thought of living without you, of never being able to see your smile, hear your voice, smell your scent again... He can't and he won't. He will follow you even in death.

If you leave him, if you manage to escape, Will won't stop at nothing to find you. He will turn the whole world upside down looking for you until he finds you. Nothing can stop him from looking for you, and once he finds you, Will is going to be sure that you will never be able to escape again.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Yes, Will feels guilty about kidnapping you. It was a carefully thought-out act, but one he felt was necessary. The world is becoming more and more dangerous, and he can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt or, God forbid, dying.

But he will never let you go. As his overprotectiveness increases, you will find yourself further and further away from freedom. Will can’t let you leave, not when it’s so dangerous outside.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Will has been alone for most, if not all, of his life. Although he has grown accustomed to being alone, that doesn't mean he likes it.

He has always wanted someone to fill the void he felt inside himself and that void was filled when he met you. You were what he had been searching for his entire life and he knew he had to have you.

You are his salvation.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Will hates it when you cry, and even more so if it's his fault. He'll try to comfort and calm you as much as possible, holding your shaking body against his, stroking your head while whispering that everything will be okay, that he's here and that he's not going anywhere.

He doesn't like it when you yell at him. It hurts his ears and he'll calmly tell you to stop, but if you don't, he might have to lock you in your room until you do.

Will will give you your space (as much as he can) if you want to be alone for a while, but he won't like it if you isolate yourself and he'll have to do something about it. Probably by standing next to you like a statue, making sure you don't try to do something stupid.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Will is softer in his approach to you if you are nice to him. However, if you are mean to him, Will is going to become mean to you as well.

He wants you to be happy with him and will do everything he can to make that happen, but if you don't cooperate, he will simply stop trying and become colder and even cruel to you at times.

The way he treats you depends on the way you treat him.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Will is not so easily manipulated, so you won't be able to manipulate him to run away. He can see through your intentions and will be sullen about it.

His biggest weakness is you, ironically. If something happens to you, Will is going to definitely lose what little sanity he has left. You could get very sick or seriously injured and get him to take you to a hospital, because Will won't let you die, and you can try to get help but it will be difficult, not with him glued to your side like your own personal guard dog. But if he catches you doing that, he will never trust you again.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

No. Will would never lift a finger to hurt you. He might do it unconsciously, but he will definitely feel guilty and apologize.

He can't stand the sight of bruises on your beautiful skin.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Will adores you completely.

You are his personal deity. And he, as your servant, exists only to worship and protect you completely.

Will would go to any extreme for you. There is nothing this man wouldn't do for you, just love him back and you will have anything you desire.

Will wants to be loved by you, accepted for who he is, and if you give him that, he will be over the moon.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A few months at most.

Will is careful when planning things and kidnapping you takes time, disappearing with you without leaving any possible evidence or suspicions about him.

So you would have a few months of freedom until he decides it is time to take you for himself.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Maybe, but not on purpose.

Will is already broken and he knows how horrible it feels, so he wouldn't want to do the same to you.

He loves who you are and wouldn't want you to change, to become a shell of what you once were. If Will did end up breaking you, it would be unintentional and he would try his best to try to "fix" you again.

[sweetiesicheng]

mingi - stare

word count : 510

-

you're sitting on the couch playing a video game for your husband. it's a game that yunho had recommended to mingi, but he has been struggling with one of the stages. when you had gotten home, you bet with mingi to see who would beat the stage first.

you're moving the character on screen through a section of the stage, heading towards a building that is marked by a triangle hovering over it. you encounter different enemies and fight them. it takes a minute to get through all of them before another wave of enemies appear. you clear them out after another few minutes.

as you continue playing, you sense someone looking at you.

and that someone is right next to you.

"please stop staring at me."

"i can't help it."

you pause the game and look at mingi. you put the controller on your lap.

"is there something on my face?" you ask, immediately reaching up to touch your face, thinking that food might have been stuck to your skin from dinner.

"no, there isn't. well, actually, there is," he replies.

you raise an eyebrow at him, trying to understand what he just said. "song mingi, what's on my face?" you ask and pick his phone up to open the camera app. you look at yourself but find nothing unusual. "i don't see anything, babe," you say to him.

he chuckles and points to a mole beneath one of your eyebrows.

"you've been staring at my mole that's been on my face since the day i was born?" you question him and turn his phone off, putting it on the couch in between both of you.

"am i not allowed to stare?" he asks you. "it's cute." he leans in and kisses you where the mole is.

"it's not that cute," you reply and pick up the controller. you resume playing the game. "i wish i had freckles or something. i think those are cuter."

"if you think about it, it's like you have a single freckle," mingi points out. "i'm telling you, it's cute."

"quit trying to win me over, we're already married," you say to him.

he chuckles, "i can't help it. i'm married to a hottie. i have to point out everything i love about her and show her off."

you playfully roll your eyes and smile while playing the game. you fight more enemies along the way and reach the designated building. inside of the building, you have to do a few puzzles and fight some more characters that are a part of the series. it doesn't take you too long before you turn a machine off within the building, beating the stage and leveling up two of the characters. you go to the stage selection screen and move the character to the next stage.

"i gotta admit, you're hell of a catch too," you say to him as you pass him the controller and kiss his cheek, "told ya i'd beat it before you would." you add while mingi starts up the next level.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 129 (Nancy Landgraab and the SanMy Ballerinas)

Nancy Landgraab loved when Ash was in the city with her family. Where he belonged - if it were up to her, anyway. Her reputation for coldness preceded her, and she used it to her advantage in the cutthroat world of business, but those who managed to get beyond her icy exterior knew a different woman.

Her grandchildren were all but immune to tough judgment from Nancy, and she was thrilled to have them together at the penthouse for Easter. Today, she had both Ash and Bridgette with her to visit one of her pet interests - the SanMy Ballet School at the Performing Arts Centre.

"Pearl said she's even better at ballet than the last time I saw her," chattered Ash from a stool at the back of the room. "I asked if she can do the splits and she said of course she can."

"Most ballerinas are flexible enough to do the splits."

"Can you do the splits, Nan?"

"When I was a ballerina, I could."

"Nan! Nan! I'm a ballerina!" babbled almost four-year-old Bridgette, tearing off her coat to copy the dancers.

(Ash has called her Grandma Nancy before, but since Bridgette started talking, now they both call her Nan. I wanted something different than Grandma since that's what Ash calls Daisy, and I can't believe it took me this long to come up with Nan for Nancy!)

Ash's friend, Pearl, was the best young dancer in her age group, and Nancy had kept an eye on her for years. In her youth, Nancy almost made it herself, but a broken ankle ended her dreams and pushed her to focus on the family business.

Did this leave her bitter? Maybe. But she channeled it into serving on the board of the SanMy Ballet Company, focusing her interests on helping young dancers develop through the connected school.

The older girls were hard at work teaching their students. Elyse Rockwell was a classic beauty, quiet and reserved. She didn't talk much, but she was polite. Nancy liked her.

Natasha Lobo was the girl Nancy thought would drop out of ballet when she was young. She fought struggles at home, she was short, her hips too wide (this chapter is written from Nancy's POV and I disagree but Nancy's a cow), and it took her forever to learn simple grace. But now, Natasha was just as good as Elyse - probably better. Natasha reminded Nancy of herself and she respected her work ethic.

Then there was Sierra Prairies. Oh, Sierra. They could be the best ballerina to ever lace on a pair of slippers, but he insisted on being, well...zirself. Nancy didn't understand Sierra, but she was a good ballerina and great with the younger students.

As practice ended and the girls dispersed, Nancy applauded with a scowl as the girls nervously made their way to the intimidating CEO. "Sierra, we've been over this. Ballet is all about performance, but it's not a clown circus. What are you wearing on your face? And your leotard..."

"It's just animal print, Mrs. Landgraab. How aren't you itching through that drab wool coat?"

"This drab wool cost four-thousand simoleons."

Sierra laughed, unbothered by the wealthy woman's disdain. "You've got to learn to thrift, Mrs. Landgraab. Way better designers at way better prices, just because some rich trendsetter tossed them away when they were ready to spend another four grand on another ugly coat."

"Sierra, maybe don't talk to the school's top donor like that," Elyse suggested carefully. "It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Landgraab."

"I think your coat looks amazing, Mrs. Landgraab. You rock whatever you wear." Toddler Bridgette grinned up at Natasha, pulling at her tights until the blonde picked her up with a smile. "Your granddaughter's getting big. She'll be with us at the school in no time."

Sierra cleared her throat. "Suck up," she said, pretending to cough. "Tash, you're pretty, but you're so obvious. She comes in to see random practices over Easter break! She already cares about the school."

"Sierra Prairies, bite your tongue. Flattery will get you anywhere." Nancy smiled warmly at Natasha. She wasn't sucking up for the sake of the school, but herself. If students wanted to be considered for the company after they'd finished their training, Nancy was the SanMy Ballet Company's most influential board member.

She introduced her grandson as a friend of Pearl Richards, the school's prize student, forgetting entirely that Ash's cousin, Tetra Bell, had recently enrolled.

"Hey Ash," Tetra said, joining the conversation as the girls finished up after class. "My mom says to tell Aunt Heather to plan her wedding to Uncle Conrad already."

Nancy pursed her lips quietly. She was learning to hold her opinion of Ash's mother when her grandson was around.

"There's no time to talk about weddings. I came today to let you know I'm bringing in a film crew next week to show off the new studio. We'll finally be able to get out of this basement that smells like a sewer, and get some great promotion filmed for the school."

"We?"

"Practice before then. Get your spray tans early enough so they're dry when you put on your leotard, dye your roots neon pink if you must, but leave the face stickers at home."

Sierra opened her mouth to protest, but Elyse and Natasha both shushed her.

"I'm asking for one afternoon without stickers on your face, Sierra. I can't imagine they're all that good for your skin, anyway."

Sierra raised her hands apologetically. "I'm joking, Mrs. Landgraab. I can take myself seriously, believe it or not."

"Does that mean you'll show up in a leotard that doesn't look like you stole it from a showgirl in Lucky Palms?"

"What's a showgirl?" Ash wondered innocently.

"It's what your grandmother thinks becomes of every failed ballerina just because she-"

"I didn't fail as a ballerina, Miss Prairies. I broke my ankle and it ended my career."

"It can happen to the best," Elyse said warmly. "We really appreciate everything you do for the school. Even Sierra."

The pink-haired ballerina frowned. "Were you really the best?"

"I could have been big," Nancy admitted proudly as the children began to head home. "Took me a decade to work the ankle back to strength enough just to run on a treadmill."

"Could you still do some moves?"

Nancy shook her head. "Not many. But I still have more grace in my fingertips than any of you."

Easily persuaded, the girls got Nancy out of her expensive coat and into a pair of ballet slippers. She bent and stretched her toes over the polished hardwood, reconnecting with the moves that once flowed through her with as much muscle memory as walking.

She practiced the long forgotten skill as the students packed up to leave, and Elyse kept Bridgette company while Sierra and Natasha goofed off in the corner. Maybe they were showing off for her, which Nancy the board member certainly didn't mind. The company was sorely low on male dancers these days, so Sierra filled the masculine steps while he danced with Natasha.

Sierra whispered something in Natasha's ear with a flirtatious grin. Nancy chuckled to herself, seeing something between the girls that maybe they hadn't even recognized themselves. But they were stealing her thunder.

"Oh, go put that spark inside in a Layla Delarosa book," Nancy laughed. "I'm practicing here." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Tetra Bell, Ash's cousin and the daughter of Holly and Kris, is literally five years old and should not actually be in this ballet class with these older girls. She's no prodigy like Pearl, but she aged up recently and I wanted her to be here to fill the class and show her off. The other girls in the class besides Pearl are Cristal and Noemi Zest, Nancy's nieces who she ignored.

I made them skill and then got them chatting with Nancy and just kinda let what happened happen before setting up the poses. Sierra really did make Nancy angry before I had Nancy practice ballet, and Elyse spent the most time autonomously chatting with the kids after practice ended. Natasha autonomously picked up Bridgette when she asked and also autonomously sucked up with that hand on chest compliment for Nancy. Natasha skilled up in ballet and fitness the fastest of the three.

A huge, enormous, gargantuan thank you to @changingplumbob for sending me these beautiful sims and letting me play in the sandbox with them and the Ballet mod by @janesimsten! I know @paracosmic-sims created Sierra, @bloomingkyras created Natasha, and Elyse was created by @simmerbeans, and they're all stunning! Thank you! Additionally, thank you @paracosmic-sims for sending me in the direction of some awesome and colourful cc for Sierra, which I love even more because it really blows Nancy's goat!

And an extra shout out to @fallstaticexit's Nancy in The Art of Being Seen. She made Nancy look so good as a teenage ballerina that it altered my head canon for her forever! (But in this timeline, she loves to get freaky with Geoffrey!)

WCIF Poses: Pearl doing the splits is from Child Gymnastics Poses by @flowerchamber. Sierra and Natasha are posed using Ceci's Couples Dance I poses (before cut) and RayGun @rayw05771's Ballet Duet poses (after cut). Bridgette was posed using Toddler Ballet poses by @daisylove126, which are so cute, and since they come with an all-in-one option I just played that through while the other girls skilled and it looked like she was dancing along. My heart!

WCIF cc? Elyse and Natasha's bodysuits and tights come with Jane Simsten's Ballet mod (same for what they wore in yesterday's promo). Sierra is wearing @candysims4's Let It Go bodysuit and Marzmerizingsims' Decora face sticker accessories. In yesterday's promo, she wore @joliebean's Cindy leotard with tights.

[jezzzebel]

A short critique on the (Tumblr) Hellenic Polytheism community

Disclaimer: This is just my opinion / criticism and isn't meant to offend anyone, but rather bring awareness to help build a stronger and more respected community. I am not necessarily a hellenic polytheist , i occasionally worship / honor greek gods. Please be civil in the comments and have common sense. Love yall!!!

Criticism on assumptions and entitlement

I don't like it when people just assume you are a hellenic polytheist on here when you just... Use the #pagan . And this isn't just the case with me. Idk if it's just the prevalence of helpols on Tumblr compared to slavic , roman, celtic.. norse.. other pagan religions.

But that isn't a call to make everything about you.

In the nicest way possible.

I remember making a post about something that is witchcraft related. Then just now i saw a post of a very well known and loved paganism blog quote my post word for word and applying why it's incorrect when it's related to hellenic polytheism.

I haven't used the #helpol in my post. The post was related to deity work in modern day witchcraft. And yet that person decided to , without confrontation in my reblogs and comments, decided to make a post quoting my post most likely because they were afraid of my reaction or starting a drama.

Which is just.?? Weird to me??

If you have something to say to me, we can easily talk about it and i would have explained to you that my post wasn't necessarily about hellenic polytheism... YET like this IT WOULD BE AWKWARD.

I am tired of people assuming that hellenic polytheism is the "main" pagan religion while others are ""exotic birds" ☹️ who can hardly be found.

We are here.

Proper tagging and roman polytheism

I can't be the only one who is annoyed by improper tagging of #helpol content with #roman polytheist content. Fine ,i am guilty of improper tagging as well, WHEN I WAS NEW TO THE APP of course. But why , just why would you tag a post about Zeus with rompol hashtag.

THEY ARE NOT THE SAME DEITIES.

I am sure you wouldn't like it if i tagged content of goddess Vesna as #persephone

It's annoying trying to look for roman polytheism content and seeing the names of greek gods with "roman names" in brackets.

Roman religion IS NOT a copy of greek religion. Pleaseeeee don't make the same mistakes as me and TAG PROPERLY.

Drama and judging others

Fineeee. My last post WAS targeted TOWARDS 5+ posts i have seen today, judging others, and thinking they know everything about someone's practice by just looking at their posts.

What's similar to all those five plus number of posts i have seen JUST TODAY? They were all helpol...

I am not trying to generalize. Of course, gods forbid. There are many amazing hellenic polytheists on Tumblr who understand that not everything you see on internet is how it seems.

Why do you think that it is ABSOLUTELY OKAY to insult others and causing drama just because their practice is different than yours?

And I don't mean "disrespectful different" i mean "unconventional different".

This is prevalent in other pagan communities too, but I could not help but notice the greek gods' names being mentioned the most. It's just sad.

It's just January, January 20th as i am posting this and i have already seen so much drama posts. Do better.

Ignoring ethnic greek voices

This one is self explanatory

Erasing the cultural part in the name of eclecticism

This. This annoys me so much. It's sad. You can't just cut out a part of a cultural religious tradition because you don't like it. And don't twist my words. I REALLY mean " don't like it" or "don't resonate with it"

For more info on what i mean, check out my post on the guest metaphor and open practices.

Myth literalism and demonizing deities

Sorry but yall are guilty of this and it's sadddd 😭

"Zeus is an awful deity because of his myths"

Here are some other myths that make other deities look bad , so you shouldn't worship them: Hera, Artemis, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Athena...

/satire

CONSTANT walking on eggshells and twisting others' words.

I feel like i am constantly walking on thin ice when interacting with the helpol community. It seems like people would rather find a needle in a pile of hay bales than listening to what people have to say.

And i know people will do so with this post.

It's almost like they will try and look for your smallest mistakes and errors to call you out and make a point.

How do we fix this?

A community can never be 100% toxicity free. There will always be bad apples out there. But what we should do is strive to make the community a better and more welcoming place for people. One person can do a lot more than you think they can. YOU can achieve a lot more for the community than you think you can.

If you even read this far. Thank you.

[dramaaddict]

The Blossoming Love

This is a rant post coz the promotions for The Blossoming Love SUCKS SO BAD. Starting with that title which is so generic and basic with both most overused words in cdrama titles 'Blossom' and 'Love'. The direct translation for Chinese title is "Thousands of peach blossoms bloom forever" which in my opinion is still not very good but it's longer and most importantly DISTINCT.

And then the posters. I'm pretty sure I've seen this exact same type of posters for other dramas. Nothing about these posters are appealing to me. I even thought the first one was a poster from another drama of his coz look.

The latest released poster and the photo shoot they did are so much better. I think it has something to do with the colors but I'm not an expert so I can't say for sure.

If they just want to show the vibe of the earlier parts, a poster like this

or if they can't add in a kiss in the poster coz you never know with Chinese censors something like this would work too instead of those.

AND THEN THE TRAILER. I've seen people watch it and saying it's just another "Journey of the Flower" type drama (understandably) but it makes me wanna scream IT'S NOT DON'T COMPARE MY XXC TO THAT WIMP. But the trailer sucks so bad if I just saw this first I wouldn't be interested too. Like who made this atrocity, I just wanna have a talk.

Another problem is people watching just the first few episodes and judging the whole drama based on them. It's just sad. TBF, If I haven't already seen the posts from @dangermousie and @fake-married-my-dead-fiance (Thank you guys so much) I too would have thought it's another generic Xianxia with so call "Righteous" ML (who is actually just a hypocrite and a coward who judge other based on their identities instead of their actions or don't dare go against traditions/others and never even question "the righteous way" when he clearly knows it's anything but that.) And this type of MLs disgust me the most even more than someone like Li Cheng Yin. (OP gods who aren't allowed to feel are another type although they're not bad just frustrating which Shen Li made it work last year.) That's why the "Good Guy" MLs have always repelled me in Xianxia but this drama makes it work. This is the first time I find the Righteousness of the ML extremely attractive.

Tell me how to not fall for this.

This drama don't have big names with large fandoms backing them while airing at the same time as THREE other dramas with traffic stars in them. Youku don't do anything to promote it properly either.

I want to see more posts about this drama, people discussing it, posting about specific scenes or drama watching threads but it's really difficult to find since so few are watching this. I won't blame it if you truly don't enjoy it since everyone don't have the same taste but please at least give it a chance. You can even watch it by ffing. If you still aren't sure and don't mind the spoilers check out @dangermousie and @fake-married-my-dead-fiance posts about this.

P.S- This is the exact scene that convinced me that I'm 100% going to love this drama and it's in ep 1 btw.

Disclaimer: I'm not a good writer and this post is not very organized coz it was a sudden impulse. I just wanted to write out my frustrations after seeing a video about it.

Update: This trailer also sucks.

[chupenguin]

Yes to all of this. He's my favorite for that reason And I love explaining how yes, he is my fave, but his actions are so, so justified

Not in the moral sense, but in the sense of that it's so in character, his violence is never just for the show, it's not just violence for the sake of violence. It is unforgivable, but it has a narrative sense

Niragi is someone who went from: I've been hurt, I can do nothing about it, I can't fight back, I can't inflict the violence they inflicted upon me to "Okay fuck it I can do whateve I want"

You set a hurt, lonely person in a world where he starts at ground zero, a world where all those "What if I fight back?" scenarios are possible. And it's not only possible; it doesn't have consequences. Law is not a thing; morals are no longer holding anyone back, so who cares?

The Borderlands are rule by violence, the thing inflicted upon Niragi time after time. And now, the world is a new one. Everyone starts from the bottom of the stairs, not only him. So he can chage himself into the one who hurts, strike before being hit. Hurt before being hurt. If you do it first, if you climb faster, you turn into the preadtor instead of the pray.

Niragi journey in the Borderlands is he becoming the one who hurts, before they can use him like he used to be used and laughed off.

Now he can be as explosive as he wants to be, stop holding back those intrusive thoughts and it's so interesting and so in character and so well written that even if his acts are terrible, even if he is the biggest scum around and would never deserve redemption, you can't say: oh yes, this part of his plot is not necessary.

It is necessary for you to UNDERSTAND Niragi

And I don't know if I'm making any sense but I just love how he is written so much

I have always wondered how Niragi was before Borderland. Because we know he is a Game Engineer. He also looks pretty chill and normal in that last scene in the plaza with the others. Just a random guy chilling under the sun in a pretty day.

And I wonder... Was he so much feral and sadistic because he ended up in Borderlands and he thought "well, this is the end, we are all gonna die in a terrible way" and decided that he could just get a revenge from the universe for what his life was during all his childhood and teen years in his twisted way?

Would he be the same in a normal context? I am not so sure about it. He is incredibly smart, quick at thinking and he has a good job that pays him well. He is extremely lonely though, from what he said.

Sure as fuck he is super shitty in the Borderlands, because there is only despair there, but I would love to see him in his everyday life. His high school life was hell. He striked me as someone very lonely, shy, the classic smart but ignored one. And I think his childhood wasn't better. Probably his parents were shitty too. He looks neglected a lot. (BTW I'm not excusing him with this, I'm just thinking).

After his and Chishiya's last scene in the show (that was pretty much the same in the Manga) I just hope that maybe they become friends (or maybe something more, yes, I ship them a lot) because, they say it themselves, they are the same. They see themselves in each other. So surely there will be bickering and bad moments but maybe they could work well together, and have their lil twisted something.