#<- putting this tag so it can reach more people

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 17

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

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I have a house now. One more month until move in.

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

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You leave the queen, stepping into the gales that whip around the outer flap of her tent. You reach to keep your cap from flying into the violent winds, the soldiers with their chins down as they lean against the force. Before you can gain your bearings, a shadow appears and calls your name, battling the weather to be heard. 

“Eh, where is your cloak, silly mouse? You will blow away with the leaves,” Bryce approaches, latching onto your arm as the bluster swirls around you, nearly taking you off your feet. 

“I am fine, sir, I only need find a blanket,” you stumble against him as another willful gust pushes you around.  

“That isn’t what I asked. What has happened to it? You’ve lost it?” 

“The queen was cold, sir,” you answer and cling to him, shivering as the tempest swirls around you. 

“The queen... greedy...” his voice trails off as her sneers towards the tent. 

“Sir,” you touch his arm gently to calm him, “she needs it more than I. She is expecting the king’s child.” 

He looks at you and juts out his jaw, “aye, s’pose you’re right, even if you’re too kind for yer own good.” 

He turns you and grips you tightly, shielding you as best he can against the wind. Your progress is slow and stunted by the sudden ebbs and flows. He grunts as you stagger and steadies you, at times almost lifting you off your feet. 

“Sir Bryce,” a deep voice slices through the whistle of the winds, “a storm approaches.” 

The king nears, his sword gripped by the pommel as he leans it against hit shoulder. His golden eyes flick towards you, as if he had not seen you in the shadow of your escort. He raises his chin and returns his attention to the soldier. He angles his blade to the ground and the tip buries in the dirt. 

“Aye, it surely does,” Bryce agrees, “I’ve seen a worst tempest in my years.” 

“Sir,” Geralt holds out his hands and a glisten appears on his sleeve. You lean in without a thought, curious, then feel a cold speck on your nose. You look up and see the white flakes drifting down. “It will not remain so peaceful. It comes from the north and will deepen by morning.” 

“Shall we wake the camp?” Bryce asks and you sway with the wind. Once more, the king’s attention strays to you, he frowns. 

“Not as yet. Let the horses rest a little longer. They will be able to handle a dusting,” he affirms. “but I will harry the men to prepare for our departure.” 

“As will I. I’ll be certain the carts are covered and weighted.” 

“Sir, ever wise,” King Geralt praises and scowls at you. He shakes his head and huffs, “why does the maid wear no cloak? She will not survive in this, summer soul, she is.” 

“Aye, yes, I was only just telling her as much. Seems her heart is too big for her thin hide,” Bryce tuts, “we were only off to find her a blanket before she sleeps.” 

“Blanket, eh,” the king lets go of his blade, letting it stand in the ground. He unbuckles his collar and sweeps his cloak from around his shoulder, “I have my hunting cloak and I don’t mind the snow so much.” 

Before you can react, the king lays his heavy cloak over your shoulders. It is longer than your height requires and it smells of sweat and iron. You lower your head at the warmth clinging to the lined wool. 

“Your highness, many thanks, but I might find a blanket--” 

“Do not defy your king,” Bryce rebukes, “mouse, you would do well to accept his grace. You will certainly need it if these winds do not pass.” 

“Apologies,” you utter, “sir, your highness, you are both generous.” 

King Geralt grumbles and nods, looking once more to the sky as he grabs his sword. 

“The Ridge, Vulture’s Peak... it isn’t far. The castle will do, eh?” 

“Not far at all, your highness,” Bryce agrees. “It would do you well to let your wife rest. Many congratulations, my king.” 

“Congratulations? For what? Smelling a storm?” the king furrows his brow. 

“Oi, I think I’ve said too much,” Bryce glances at you. 

“Say more,” the king commands. The soldier sighs and sheepishly shows his teeth.  

“Please, maid, would ya...” He mutters. 

“Your highness, the queen said she is with child,” you swallow, “I only just came from her tent. I believed you were aware. I did not mean to gossip.” 

“Child,” his eyes sink and close. He hums and heaves a deep breath, “yes, she would need to be still a time.” 

“Your highness, again, you have my apologies--” 

“No matter,” the king waves his hand. “Take the maid, I shall see to my wife.” 

The king resumes his path onward, sword in hand. He hardly shares in Jazlene’s cheer for the news. Perhaps it is only the threat of the storm that has him unhappy.  

You bring your hands to the dark fur along the collar of the cloak and draw it snug. You chatter and Bryce clucks. He nudges you and you walk forward in step. 

“So the snows have come,” Bryce declares, “along with the heir. I sense many storms brewing, mouse. Best keep our eyes on the horizon.” 

⚔️

You don’t sleep for long, if at all. Only the shallow dregs of your anticipation. You watch the snow fall from beneath the canopy and as the horses are roused and fed before dawn, a carpet coats the ground. 

You peer down at the powder. You wonder what it feels like. Cold and wet, Bryce says, but don’t dirty your soles, you’ll be soaked. He remains, as ever, cynical. 

“Be off soon,” he says as he brings Daisy around, a thick coat over her back and haunches. 

“To Vulture’s Peak?” You ask. 

“Aye, so we will,” he pets Daisy’s snout as she sniffs him. “though our host may not be so fond to have us.” 

“Host? It is not the king’s castle?” 

“Ha, no, no,” Bryce laughs heartily, “a king can’t live on a desolate bluff. By fealty, a lord must break bread and offer a roof to his king. It might be his company which has him facing a cold welcome.” 

“Oh,” you frown. 

“Ah, even this old coot won’t deny us in the coming storm. He has sense of these better than any,” Bryce shrugs. “Don’t worry your head. You stay in your cart and Daisy will do the rest. She’s a fine climber--” 

“Out of my way!” The curdling snarl interrupts the soldier and you both look to see the source. “Move, by gods, I am the queen, be away from me.” 

You get to your knees, leaning on the edge of the wagon to see out from under the canopy. A scatter of bodies split apart as Queen Jazlene struts through, the fur cloak rippling from her shoulders and the hood set back on her head as her curls spill out. She sneers at the snow beneath her slippers. 

“Ah, I did hear there was a cart around here—ugh, out,” she points as she marches up to the cart, “by royal right, I am seizing this cart.” 

“Eh,” Bryce moves closer, “your highness, the king--” 

“I cannot sit a horse, sir,” she rests her gloved hand over her stomach. “Or would you murder the future prince with your selfishness. All for a--” she pauses and glowers over at you, rolling her eyes. “A maid?” 

You rise and snatch up the cloak you’d used as a blanket. You keep bent under the low canopy and climb out with the cushion under your arm. 

“Sir, the queen is right, she should have the cart, I will sit with the luggage.” 

He huffs and sends a grimace to the sky, unable to direct his malice towards its source, “if she must...” 

“I must!” The queen snaps and yanks the pillow from your hands, “I will need this, certainly.” 

You stand aside, staring at the pillow dolefully, and buckle the top of your cloak. The queen pauses as she faces you. She looks you up and down. 

“Where did you find this then?” She touches the collar of the cloak. 

“It is my spare cloak,” Bryce insists before you can answer, “what else do you require, your highness? Shall we bring a lamb to sacrifice?” 

“Hm, is that how you northerners worship?” She sneers, missing his irony. 

He blinks dully and says nothing. 

“Well, secure the horse, I will need to be drawn.” 

“It is my horse,” Bryce insists, “you may bridle your own.” 

“You dare deny me?” She snarls at him as the soldiers with her stand on either side of the cart. 

“You may take it up with your husband. This is my steed, she carried me to war and she will carry me henceforth,” he snips. 

Bryce and Jazlene glare at each other. You look between them nervously. You don’t know who King Geralt might choose in this battle should he be called. 

“Fine, fetch the stinky thing,” Jazlene demands of one of the soldiers, “and blankets, another pillow, perhaps something to eat.” 

The cast of the sky shifts with the first light of the sun and Bryce grabs both horses and leads them aside. He whistles for you to follow. You come to him as Chestnut and Daisy cluelessly puff into the cold air. 

“You will ride. I will not have that... queen seizing my horse,” he sniffs, “I will show you how once I’ve saddled the mare.” 

“Oh, yes, sir.” You look up at the horses back. It seems very high. 

“You will want to be aback anyhow,” he shrugs, “you’ll not want to miss the mountain. It is very beautiful, especially in the snow.” 

⚔️

The party continues onward, treacherously. As the snow falls, the train diverts away from the flats and onto the narrow paths speckled with broken trunks and towering trees. The smell of pine tickles your nose as you ascend, bit by bit. 

It takes some time to grow used to the motion of the horse. Daisy’s hooves are certain and she does not slip on even the most precarious spots. Bryce rides behind you, booming about each nook and cranny, pointing out the white rabbits and the wilted fauna. His enthusiasm is unexpected but endearing. 

You ride until the moon replaces the sun and dismount along the side of the great cliff. There is no room here to pitch a tent and only a few fires burn along the ridge. Your hips ache as the soldier grunts about his back. 

“I should see to the queen,” you suggest as you rub your hands together. 

“She must have many fawning over her,” Bryce spits out a wad of leaves and squashes it under his feet. 

“I am her maid--” 

“And we are on a long road. She might go without you minding her temper,” he snarls. 

You frown, “I am not upset. She needs the cart more than me.” 

“It isn’t that which sees me chagrined,” he growls. “It’s those deeds you will not admit of that traitor’s daughter which make me prickle.” 

You’re quiet. You look away, your eyes wandering up into the sky, watching the snow swirl down, following it down to the ground far below. The heaps are immaculate in the moonlight and the trim of white along the ridge gleams. 

“I am a maid.” 

“I know little of your summer people but if that is how they treat those who serve them, perhaps this alliance was not so wise,” he grumbles as he steps up beside you, “perhaps it would’ve been better to submit such cruel nobles.” 

“Sir,” you say, shocked and peer over at his profile. His beard has grown to meet his cloak, his hair coiling down to his shoulders. 

“I serve my king, as I ever will, but I will not bend the knees to a snake,” he hisses and crosses his arms. 

“We are united, aren’t we? Summer and Winter,” you reach to touch his thick hide mitt. 

“Aye, yes, I do not seek another battle,” he exhales. “I am only wary of those who may.” 

You squint. Your mind returns to Lord Dustan and what he said to his daughter. The heir is their prize, an affirmation of the bounty earned by their betrayal, but also a chain to that very act. To the man they forsook their name for. A man they speak as kindly on as they had their former allies. 

“Might I walk?” You draw your hand from his. “My legs are sore.” 

“Not too far. And keep your eyes open,” he girds, “and your hands in your cloak. You needn’t frostbite.” 

You nod and he turns to you. He pulls up the hood of your cloak and pats your shoulder. 

“Tarry too long and I’ll look for you,” he warns. 

“Sir,” you shift slowly and step past him. 

You trod higher up the incline as you marvel over the edge. Bodies huddles together beneath cloaks and blankets, nestling for warmth against the wall of the cliff. You carry on and stop near a luggage cart, close to the drop. You hold out your hand, letting snow gather in your palm. It is cold, bitterly and painfully cold, but so beautiful. You bring it closer and watch it slowly melt as your hand numbs. 

“Do you remember...” the king’s voice drawls over you as his soft steps approach. “What I told you of this place?” 

You look at him. He is lit by the moonlight, his golden eyes like stars, and his jaw is bristly with thickening stubble. You bow your head, “your highness, are the bears already asleep in their caves?” 

He chuckles, “you do recall,” he praises, “not yet, though they do not come this high.” 

“And the wolves? Are they near?” 

“They are always prowling,” he says, shifting closer, his arm pressing to yours. He bends slightly to peer straight down, “the elk will be in the forests.” He points to the snowcapped tips of the distant trees, “here, the vultures have their nests. Their eggs,” he curves his hands to show the size, “I made a writ, years ago. It is forbidden to eat the eggs. I always found it quite tragic to desecrate the majestic creatures before they can even be borne. Before they can fly even.” 

“Vultures? I’ve never seen one? They are... birds?” 

“Yes, birds,” he confirms.  

He is silent as he considers his kingdom below. His breath is gritty as it rises and falls. He has much to think on. A child, a wife, and his homecoming delayed by a storm. 

“One thing has changed here, in these lands of winter,” he says lowly and you feel a ripple in your cloak. He presses his hand firmly to your back, sliding it along your side to grasp your hip. He moves to stand behind you and brings you close. He wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your crown, “I said before, there is no summer here,” he holds you, pulling his cloak around you, concealing you within it as he drapes himself around you, “summer is here. With me. Warm and gentle.” 

You go rigid as he holds you, your heart beating at the unexpected embrace, at the unseemly contact between you. He hums as he stands with you in the shadows of the cart, so brazenly covert. Anyone might happen upon you and yet they all hide away from the storm. 

“Your highness,” you stammer and quiver against him. 

“Treasure,” he purrs, “my treasure. The one good thing I’ve brought home...” 

You can’t breathe or think. Is he drunk? Confused? What does he mean? 

“I--” he begins but the kick of a rock quiets him, the stone bouncing off the cart’s wheel. 

A shadow stalks down the precipice towards you and the king detaches, uncovering you from his cloak. He faces the figure as the tramp up the incline. You hear the king shudder as he tickles your back. 

“There’s the mouse,” Bryce says as he comes into the moonlight, his brow and jaw set, though he doesn’t look at you. He looks at the king, almost defiant. “You shouldn't be out so long in the cold. Exposed,” he grits, “come, I’ve sparked us a fire.” 

King Geralt clears his throat, “thank you, sir.” 

“My king,” Bryce says as he beckons to you, “I will keep the maid safe. As you bid.” 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

[demeterdefence]

my energy has been low lately so i've stuck to just liveblogging chapter releases, but i was thinking earlier about why lore olympus really nettles me and it's truly indicative of a wider issue.

it's disappointing that a major ancient religion that is still practiced by some people today has been reduced to a caricature of itself, and i say this knowing that there are thousands of reinterpretations of the greek myths, there will always be a new opinion or retelling of them. retelling the myth of hades and persephone isn't necessarily the issue, so much as the constant and dripping disdain to the cultural roots. we don't need to be greek to appreciate the story, but why remove everything greek from it? why westernize every aspect and remove ties to the cultural roots? why whitewash everything from a myth thousands of years old?

part of the reason these myths continue to resonate with us is because the themes are still relevant today. the loss of a child, the struggle against impossible forces, the (often patriarchal) powers against you, a mothers love. these stories hold power, they gave hope and inspiration, they created meaning and connection, and they were vital to the people who lived in that time, in that place. they will resonate with us for many years still, but stripping the roots and core of it out only makes it a hollow, shallow imitation. it's reality tv with neon colours, no love or heritage present; it's cold and shiny and plastic, and it insults what it claims to portray.

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #i have more thoughts actually but putting them down coherently? difficult #also im procrastinating doing the dishes lmao #anyways i can remember in undergrad studying the greek myths and early playwrights #and the prof was talking abt the trojan war #and the way he explained was that the power of this myth was that it vastly exceeded greece #it reached further beyond the borders it stretched so far that the entire world knew of achilles and paris and hector #everyone knew helen everyone knew priam #when priam kisses achilles hands and says #for I have steeled myself as no man yet has ever steeled himself before me #and have raised to my lips the hand of him who slew my son #??? like? the raw grief and power of that??? #and it is that grief of a father to the killer of his son that resonates with us still in modern times #but their home was still the ancient world in the dust and sea of greece and troy #they wore clothing and ate food and drank wine that was theirs #and when we strip it away we remove the core of the story #a father in troy whose son stole a greek bride and must watch as his family and people are destroyed #anyways idk what these tags are i am so sorry mobile users

[unstable-samurai]

A NEW LOVE AND A NEW PAST - smut

JOY X MALE READER

words: 5.3K

tags: friends to lovers, first healthy relationship, angst

[A/N: honestly, I thought that the first smut I published wouldn't be read by anyone. It was a surprise for me when I saw more than 100 notes on the post. Thanks for your support!!]

This is the first version, I will eventually correct the errors:)

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Y/N ended the day as usual. The inside of the house was slowly being swallowed by black, and when he finally realized it, he was enveloped in complete darkness. Y/N went out feeling the walls in search of the switch. The lights came on, but he still felt everything was enveloped in darkness for some reason. He had already submitted the report that he spent the week working on for the company; now he was free, although he wanted to continue working on something. The house was clean, the dishes were washed, and the clothes were put away in the closet... Shit, there was nothing else to do that night. He had to be “entertained” Everyone needed that, after all. But he wouldn’t have the focus to read a book or watch a movie. Maybe playing a video game would be the best alternative. He decided that would be it, so he took a shower and prepared his dinner (Cup Noodles, if that can be called dinner).

At around 7:00 pm, his doorbell rang. He did not expect visitors that night. Y/N paused his game and got up from the sofa to open the door.

It was a real surprise to see who it was. Standing there, slightly crestfallen and apparently not knowing what she was doing.

He had never seen her like that.

“Joy?!” Y/N asked, alarmed.

“Y/N... Can I come in?”

“Sure!”

He opened the way for her to pass. Joy was dressed in her ballet uniform; that’s what she taught at a dance studio nearby.

“Are you well?” He asked.

“Yes. I mean, not exactly…”

“What are you doing here?”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No way! That’s not what I meant. It’s just that I’m worried about you showing up like this without warning.”

“Sorry.” He noticed how tired she looked. “We had a fight, Y/N. We had a serious disagreement today. And I think it’s over.

It took him a while to process what she said.

“Fight?”

Finally, he remembered who she was talking about.

“Yes. And at the end of it all, I said it was over between us. I broke up with you know who.”

“Come, sit on the sofa” he asked, and she sat down next to him. “Why did you break up with him?”

“Things haven’t been good for a while, but i was trying to hold on, cause I thought it was just a bad phase in our relationship, but then other problems came and I couldn’t handle it all alone. You could say I’ve reached my limit.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It all happened very quickly. I’m still in my ballet uniform.” She smiled. It was a sad smile.

“But why, out of all your friends, did you choose to come to me?” Y/N asked, feeling afraid that perhaps she would misinterpret his question.

“When I was leaving his apartment, your image suddenly came to mind. So I felt like seeing you. How long is it? About four months?”

“Pretty much that. Look, to tell you the truth, I thought I’d never see you again. You or anyone from our old friends.”

“That fight really messed everything up between us, didn’t it?”

“Yes...”

“And to this day I don’t understand how things got to that point.”

“I was drunk as hell and said what I shouldn’t have to him. That simple. Some people even die because they do this kind of shit, you know?” Y/N tried to look funny with this, but it didn’t work.

“Was everything you said true?”

“No. Not really. I was just angry.”

“He thought it was true. Still thinking.”

“What difference does it make? Nothing I say will make him believe me. If they hadn��t held him back, the guy would have punched me.”

“A beating,” she corrected him. “At home, he said he would kick your ass.”

“Ah, even better.”

“You asked what difference the truth makes. Well, It’s ME who wants to understand you, Y/N. This is important to me."

“Why? This is past. You seem to be getting off-topic here. We have to talk about your breakup.”

“The two things are connected, you idiot!” Joy exclaimed, and then Y/N saw her blush. “Sorry! I exalted myself.”

Y/N didn’t imagine that being called an idiot could be cute. With a defeated smile, he said:

“The truth was, I was mad at him for getting what I wanted. The anger grew the more time we spent together. The anger came with the frustration I felt in my life, then it became envy, and the envy poisoned me and led me to say those things.”

“I thought it was just because of the alcohol.” She said, confused.

“Actually, I wasn’t drunk enough to say that shit by accident. I knew perfectly well what I was saying. The alcohol was just an excuse. At that moment I didn't realize that I was embarrassing you too. I'm fucking sorry.”

He lowered his head. Y/N would rather face death than look her in the eye.

“But what were you jealous of in him? If you lived with him like I did, you would know that there is nothing there to covet.”

“He had the only thing I cared about for himself. And that made me extremely frustrated. My idea was to slowly move away from him and cut off contact over time, but I knew he would never allow things to end that way. That’s why I acted like an idiot to kill our friendship once and for all. I... I hated myself for how I felt. That shit was making me sick, Joy. I felt like a snake among you...”

She placed her gentle hand on his shoulder, and she looked so pious in that moment that it only made Y/N feel worse.

“What did he have and you didn’t? Say please.”

“You, Joy. He had you.” The words came out of his mouth so bitterly that the expression of disgust on his face was visible.

“I?” She questioned. “Was it me you were jealous of?”

“Yes. I couldn’t bear to see you two together. It hurt like hell to see you in his arms when I was the one who should have been hugging you... See? I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore. I’m sorry. Again..."

“Do you want to know why your fight with him was also connected to the end of our relationship? Because I was away from you. And when I broached this subject with him, he became extremely angry. I tried to reconcile the two of you, but he didn’t accept it. As the months passed, I felt increasingly lonely in this relationship. Everything was so cold at home, and sometimes what warmed me were the memories of the times we two spent together.” She smiled. “Like that day when I tried to teach you some ballet steps and you almost couldn’t walk for a week.”

“Hey, that shit was serious, okay? Too risky moves for beginners!”

She couldn’t contain her laughter. It was good to see her happy like that; it made him feel a little better.

“I was having trouble understanding. Or I simply made it difficult to understand the simple thing: I like you too, Y/N.”

“Even when you were with him?”

“Our relationship started off very well, but it didn’t take long for him to start feeling like he owned me, judging what I wore, what I ate, my friends, and even my weight. As if my mother judging me wasn’t enough...”

“Damn it! I had no idea you were going through this. I can’t believe he treated you so stupidly!”

“You don’t need to be jealous of him, Y/N. Why he will never compare to you, I now realize. You noticed the little details about me, like when I painted my nails, did my hair or changed my lipstick. Now i think I was very blind in not realizing before that you liked me!”

“Saying it like that makes it seem like I really made everything very obvious” he said, placing both hands on his face to hide it, embarrassed.

“Don’t run away now, little boy!” Joy took his hands away from his face. “If you want, we can allow ourselves to try.”

“What about him? Is it really over?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’m going to his house to pick up my things. I never want to see him again.” Joy placed her soft hand on Y/N’s face; he could feel the softness and warmth that her skin emanated.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, strangely polite.

“Please!”

They brought their faces closer and their lips touched, almost embarrassed, but soon they found their own rhythm and things intensified; their tongues were already dancing together. Y/N had his hand on Joy’s leg, his fingers between the fabric of the shorts and the ballet tights. She seemed so surrendered at that moment, and all he wanted was to have her in his arms, holding her tighter and tighter, as if she would regret what she had done and run away from there. A silly delirium, because Joy had her arms around his neck, and she herself was the one pressing Y/N’s face against hers. In love.

“It was good?” She asked.

“I don’t even dare to describe it. Tell me you’re going to sleep here.”

“It would be amazing. But don’t expect anything other than falling asleep together; honestly, I’m still not feeling very well.”

“No problem. I just want to have you here with me.”

“Thank you, Y/N. You don’t know, but i was forced to have sex with him whenever he felt like it, no matter how tired or unwell I said I was. But I guess I shouldn’t be talking about that now, right? I’m ruining things.”

Y/N realized that there was a deep emotional wound in Joy, which perhaps took time to heal and this also tore him apart, as he always saw her smiling, laughing, supporting her friends and even making some silly pranks. Above all, caring about everyone around her, except herself, apparently.

“You’re not ruining anything! And you don’t need to thank me for something that should be the least of my part.”

He hugged Joy, she leaned her head on his shoulder, and they remained that way for a while, until he asked:

“How about you take a shower and change your clothes? You must be tired. Did you eat anything after you left the studio?”

“I haven’t eaten anything yet. I’m starving.”

“Go take a shower. I’ll get you something to wear and then we can order something to eat.”

“Thanks.” For a moment, it looked like Joy was going to say something else, instead she just kissed him on the cheek and went into the bathroom.

After showering, Joy wore the clothes that Y/N had lent her, which were basically cotton shorts and a Muse t-shirt. Then suddenly, she appeared in the room saying:

“What’s up, bro? What’s for dinner tonight, dude? I’m so hungry!”

“Hey, did you happen to see that pretty girl who went to the bathroom?”

“I didn't see any girls. But what do you say we make a little mess before this girl shows up, huh? You know what I mean, bro?”

"Okay, I'm starting to get intimidated."

She jumped onto the couch, laughing.

“These clothes are very comfortable; thank you.”

“I'm glad you liked it. Hey how about we eat chop-suey?”

“You are wise as a king.”

He ordered the food.

Sitting on the sofa, Y/N asked:

“What do you think people will think of this?”

“Do you mean: 'we' together?”

“Exactly.”

Joy lay down on the sofa and rested her head on Y/N’s lap.

“Seulgi will like it, I believe. She was the only person I told what was really happening in my relationship. She was the one who encouraged me to break up.”

“Seulgi was a tremendous angel! I miss her too. You didn’t deserve to go through all this shit. But I’m glad it’s over. I mean, I hope so.”

“I need to let go of some insecurities. He told me cruel things, which were backed up by my own mother. You know my mother was also a ballerina, and they can be quite inhumane sometimes.”

“Let’s take care of one wound at a time. Together.”

She smiled and slowly closed her eyes. There were dark circles under Joy’s eyes, so he knew she was indeed tired.

“It wasn’t in my plans to say I love you today” she confessed. “But I think I love you, Y/N.”

“I have always loved you, Joy. And from now on, I will take care of you with kindness and love, the way you deserve. I hope to prove this to you over time.”

“You don’t need to prove anything to me” she whispered. “I already know this because whenever I’m by your side, I feel peace.”

Hearing this made him find a little courage to also be sincere about some shit.

“After the shit that happened in the bar, I created my own prison and stayed in it for four months. Terribly lonely. Work was my escape valve. After a while, I started to think it was better to stay in the dark, since the lights distorted everything around me. It was nothing more than shine; It always gave me a headache."

“I’m sorry you had to face this seclusion. But I finally came, we won't feel alone anymore.”

He stroked her hair slowly. Time was no longer his enemy.

“And one day we can say ‘fuck you’ to the past.” Y/N stated, he seemed determined.

“I can hardly wait for that day....." She broke into a smile when she thought about it. "Wow! It means I'm your Joy now, right?

Her eyes were still closed when a tear fell.

“Yes, you are my Joy now. I think you always have been, since the day we met, since the first smile you gave me.”

Another tear, this one Y/N captured softly with his thumb.

Three months had passed. It was the rainy season in the city, and the days were shrouded in bone-chilling cold. That night, torrential rain had been pouring down without respite since the end of the afternoon. Everyone completed what they had to complete as soon as possible to return to their respective homes.

Bad luck to those who had to be on the street.

Joy was with the last child, waiting for her parents at the ballet studio. The rain was delaying all traffic, so it was not uncommon for some girls to stay until a little later, waiting for their parents. For the teacher, it was no bother at all. Finally, a black car that looked very expensive stopped in front of the studio and honked loudly. The little girl said goodbye to Joy and ran through the rain to the vehicle. Joy was now free to go home. She put a coat over her ballet outfit and walked around the studio, turning off all the lights. The establishment wasn’t hers; she worked with two other teachers, and there was an old retired dancer who was the owner behind everything. The fact that she was still there was for the simple reason that Joy was the only person among the studio’s employees who lived in that neighborhood, so it was no problem to stay a little later with the children whose parents were late picking them up and finally close the studio. After turning off all the lights, she took her umbrella and locked the main door.

There was a guy leaning against a light pole next to the dance studio wearing a dark raincoat with a hood. It was a pretty ridiculous piece of clothing, to be honest. Joy found that person strange for a moment and approached, slightly suspicious. After getting close enough to see his face, she said:

“Y/N!” And Joy smiled, excited. “I thought you couldn’t come today!”

“I finished the report early. I decided to come and get you. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t walk the streets alone...”

She laughed. Joy really thought that sleazy accent that Y/N used when she wanted to say corny things was funny.

“Pretty? I look like a bird that fell out of its nest! Can you believe I was able to sweat a lot even in this cold?”

“Big Deal! Can you believe I was drinking hot coffee in my room, completely protected from the cold, while I finished writing some shit sitting in an extremely comfortable chair?”

“Jesus Christ! What would society be without men and their hard work?” she joked.

“Isn’t it? You couldn’t last a day in my shoes.”

““I don’t even want to think about it!” She grabbed his right bicep. “Luckily I have my strong and fearless provider.”

“Oh, Really? Well, i hope you introduce me to him someday. Anyway, I was thinking about taking you for a walk before we go home, are you up for it?”

“In this rain?”

“Since when are you made of sugar?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“First let’s drink some coffee. Then I’ll take you to a certain place so we can do something.”

“I thought you already drank while working hard on the computer.”

“I can make that sacrifice again.”

“And you still wonder why you have insomnia...”

The devil knew how much Joy needed a coffee too, so the two walked together down the deserted sidewalk.

At the coffee shop, Y/N ordered an espresso and a cupcake, he loved the combination of a bitter drink with something sweet. Joy ordered a cappuccino and a croissant.

“We've been living together for three months now.” He commented sitting at the table.

“I don’t know if we can call this ‘living together’.”

“You spend several days in a row at my house, so my house is a little like yours too.”

“If you think so” And she continued to eat the croissant.

“What if we make it official soon?”

“Are you talking about me living with you?”

“Exactly! It’s a good house. Spacious. We can receive our friends without any worries. It’s close to your work... I see no reason why it wouldn’t happen”

“Where is my toothbrush now?”

Y/N found the question strange but replied:

“At home. In my bathroom. Next to my toothbrush.”

She looked at him with her eyes shining, and Y/N could see that she was happy.

“So that’s it.” Joy tried to suppress her smile by drinking some of her coffee.

“Serious?!” Y/N asked so loudly that the people sitting at the tables around them looked at them.

“Sure! And speak more quietly, please.”

“Sorry” He laughed. “I’m fucking happy, that’s all.”

“I’m happy too.”

“I could scream right now for everyone here to hear.”

“Oh my gosh... don’t even think about it!

“Do you doubt it?! Are you doubting my love for you?!”

He started to get up.

“No, no! I don't doubt it! I know you love me, but I will die of embarrassment if you scream!” She tried to explain, desperate.

Y/N returned to his chair and laughed until tears came out of his eyes.

Walking and walking in the rain once again. Y/N stopped with Joy in front of the shopping mall that rose like a titan, casting dazzling lights across the square. They entered and noticed that most of the stores were already closed. Joy said:

“I think you came a little late to buy your underwear. By the way, you could do it without me.”

“Look, this weekend I’m going to sign you up for a stand-up comedy show for beginners so you can tell your jokes on stage, what do you think? No, what I want to show you is there on the third floor.”

“I just hope it’s not a wedding thing.”

“Do people still get married?”

They got into the elevator and went to the third floor. Looking at the mirror that was there, Y/N noticed how ridiculous he looked in that raincoat. Joy made fun of him by saying he looked like a trash bag.

“I’m really going to sign you up for a stand-up comedy show” he reaffirmed. “Just know that this raincoat is all the rage in Japan!”

“And what are the chances that the salesman told the truth?”

Y/N was silent.

The third floor was almost empty. He took Joy to the toys and games area, which was partially closed, but the lights were still on. She looked surprised. Not in a positive way.

“Arcade? We could have played video games at home.” She said.

“Mr. Miyagi used to say that the eyes are only capable of seeing a third of the truth. You have to look with your heart, too. Joy, you should learn a thing or two from him.”

“I never saw the movie but I know he never said that.”

“Take off your coat and come with me.” He asked, and then ran to the arcade.

“Hey, wait a minute!” She followed him, unbuttoning her coat.

Y/N stopped at the end of a narrow corridor between pinball tables and shooting games. Joy still hadn’t understood what the hell he was doing until she guided her eyes to where he was pointing, and there it was: an old, faded photo booth. That’s what he's wanted all along. Analog photos. Well, that was cute; she couldn’t deny it.

“Would you agree to take some photos with me?" He asked kneeling.

Joy extended her hand to him.

"It will be a pleasure."

Y/N smiled at her. He never got tired of admiring how beautiful she looked in a ballet uniform. They entered the machine together. Joy sat on his lap and put an arm around her neck.

“Money in banknotes?!” He questioned in awe. “The last time I got into some shit like that, it was coins.”

“The machine may be analog, but the company that built it certainly keeps up with inflation.”

“Anyway, let’s go!”

Y/N put his money in the booth and pressed the button, waiting for the first photo to be taken. Then came the flash, which caught him off guard. “You blinked!” she said. “The photo will be funny.” More flashes, and also more poses. They put on a tough face for the camera, then they smiled with their cheeks touching, then they made the ugliest faces they could, and finally they kissed.

The booth complied with the deal and spat out the roll of photos. They analyzed it together and, with the exception of the first image (the one where Y/N had blinked his eyes), all the photographs were great.

“I really liked this surprise. It will be a good memory. I think simple days also need to be remembered.” Joy commented in the elevator.

“I was afraid it would look silly. But I’ve wanted to take photos like these with you for a long time. We can make a mini-album or something. I don’t know, in my mind, it’s kind of special.”

“Mr. Miyagi used to say that when something is special in your mind, it is because it is also very special in your heart. You should learn a thing or two from him…”

“Oh, come on...”

Joy couldn't contain her laughter. Seeing her like that warmed his heart.

“Look, seriously now: i think the photos and the other things we’ll do will make the past a little better when we look back in the future.”

“A new past.” His voice sounded ethereal.

Yeah, a new past! But our hearts must stay in the present. Ever.”

Joy gave him a hug. He hugged her back, and they stayed like that as the elevator descended to the first floor. He wished simple days were always like this.

At home, a hot shower was more than enough to banish the cold they felt while on the streets. He was lying in bed looking at those photos again. They were really good, he concluded, and the record seemed to positively signal an important moment in their lives, after all, the photos were taken on the day she agreed to live with him permanently. And this might even seem strange since the formal dating request had not yet been made. But, well, fuck conventions. They were a couple, and the dating proposal would be made soon.

When she was ready.

Y/N was so far away in his thoughts that he didn’t notice when Joy had come out of the bathroom, standing in front of him, wearing a beautiful pink slinky nightie that adjusted to the curves of her body.

“Joy...?”

“I bought it a while ago, when I was still dating, you know who, but I never had the courage to use it. Not after he talked about me being fat.”

“You’re not fat. And even if he was, fuck them all with their shitty opinions.”

“You made me feel comfortable wearing that slinky nightie again.”

“I did nothing. You realized how beautiful you are on your own.”

Joy approached slowly. So beautiful, so sensual, like paradise. She sat on the edge of the bed and said:

“Thank you for caring about me, baby. I've been smiling to the point that I've created expression marks on my face since I started staying here with you."

“You’d be surprised how easy it is. And these marks... look good on you."

Y/N noticed that her cheeks were softly flushed.

“I feel ready now.”

“Are you sure?"

“I have never been as sure as I am now. You are my man. I am your-”

“Joy” he completed.

She crawled onto the bed like a feline.

They find themselves in a fiery embrace, their bodies melting into an ember of insatiable desire. Each touch was a discovery, an exploration of carnal pleasure imbued with true feeling. Precious like a diamond. Y/N’s lips traced a path of fire down Joy’s neck, leaving a trail of heat that burned on her delicate skin. As he lowered the strap of Joy’s slinky nightie, his fingers trembled with excitement, eager to touch the soft, inviting skin that was revealed just to him. It was the longing for love combusting.

Laying Joy on the bed, Y/N immersed his head in the delight of her tits, exploring each curve with fervent devotion. His lips found Joy’s nipples, eliciting moans of pleasure that echoed through the room, while his hands explored every inch of her body with palpable urgency.

Tracing a trail of kisses across Joy’s body, Y/N got closer and closer to his goal; he had a wild desire to taste her. Each kiss was like a promise of pleasure, an anticipation of what was to come. Joy writhed beneath his skillful touches, her moans filling the night air as she gave herself over completely to the heat of the moment.

And then, finally, Y/N put his head between Joy’s legs. With a decisive look, he plunged his tongue into the source of her desire, savoring every drop of forbidden nectar that she was barely dripping with. It was a scene of ecstasy and abandonment to reason, a total surrender to the desire that consumed them. Joy gripped the sheets, her moans of pleasure mixing with the sound of the night rain as she lost herself in the waves of pleasure that took her to the edge. The senses were heightened, an eternal moment, the words sounded alive when she announced that she was going to cum. Y/N got goosebumps. He never imagined that words could make him so excited. Then her delicious honey dripped into his mouth.

“I want to feel you inside me.” She murmured after recovering from her first true orgasm.

Y/N took off his boxer shorts in an instant. She saw how hard his dick was as he opened the rubber package.

That would be the two’s first time together. Hungry with desire, he didn’t hesitate as he pushed his latejante cock into Joy’s hot, wet vagina, both of them writhing with pleasure on the messy bed, fucking in missionary position. Each thrust was a frenzied thrust, their bodies slamming together in a wild rhythm. Their eyes met in a mix of lust and love, while their mouths locked in voracious kisses, moans escaping their lips as they gave in to passion.

Joy, feeling taken by her impulses of domination, mounted him, guiding his hard cock inside her with an agile movement of her hips. Her boobs swayed freely with the rhythm of her riding, inviting Y/N to grab and caress them with his warm hands. Each movement of her hips is a thrust, an explosion of pleasure, their sweaty bodies moving in perfect harmony as she leans in to kiss him without ever stopping the flow of her hips.

Y/N grabs Joy by the waist and puts her on all fours, exposing her temptingly pert ass in front of him. Without hesitation, he thrusts into her hard, their bodies slamming together in a wild frenzy. Each thrust is deep and relentless. Moans of pleasure echo throughout the room, mixing with the sound of skin hitting skin.

“oh fuck, i’m gonna cum!” he said between moans.

Joy got out of bed and got on her knees before he even asked. She was thirsty for it. She took off the rubber and wrapped Y/N’s throbbing cock in her fleshy lips with an insatiable hunger, determined to explore every inch of that source of pleasure that rose hard just for her. Joy’s eyes sparkled with devotion as she immersed herself in the task, making extremely erotic eye contact. Her tongue, skillful and thirsty, traced circles around the pulsing red glans of his cock, exploring every groove and vein with an almost scientific meticulousness. She savored every drop of precum that came out as her skilled hands gently caressed and squeezed his balls. With rehearsed dexterity, she slid her lips to the base, swallowing him with a voracity that made Y/N moan loudly. With each upward movement, Joy sucked with insatiable ferocity, sending waves of pleasure through his body. Every inch of his cock was explored and devoured, as if she were determined to extract every last drop of pleasure he could offer. And when finally Y/N could no longer contain the impending explosion, Joy intensified her efforts, sucking with an insatiable intensity until he could no longer hold back, flooding her mouth with warm milky cum, which Joy swallowed without wasting a single drop.

FOLLOWING DAY

It had already become part of her routine to wake up alone in bed. Fortunately, the noises from the kitchen were welcoming to her ears. Joy got out of bed wrapped in the comforter. The morning was rainy (what a surprise).

There he was, by the stove, finishing what looked like scrambled eggs.

“Good morning” she said, sitting down at the table.

“Good morning, baby. Are you hungry?”

“Oh dear, I could eat an elephant!”

“I prepared toast, scrambled eggs, coffee and there’s cheese and ham if you want a sandwich.”

“You are so divine!”

“Thanks. By the way, could you get the milk for me?”

“Obvious.”

Joy got up and went to the fridge. When she opened the door and took the bottle of milk, she noticed that there was a small square box at the bottom of the fridge.

“What is that?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you open it and find out?”

“Oh, Y/N! It’s not what I’m thinking, is it…?”

She couldn’t control the shaking of her hands. When he lifted the lid of the box, two rings sparkled.

“Will you agree to date me? My strategy was to persuade you with the help of drowsiness. It worked?”

“Shit, it worked great!” She started to laugh nervously. Then came the crying.

Y/N helped Joy. He took one of the rings and put it on her right ring finger; she did the same with it.

“These are our dating rings.” He told. "I know putting this in the fridge isn't the best of surprises, but you don't have a very creative guy on your side."

“It was unusual, but cute. I bet I'm the only one who opened the fridge to get some milk and ended up getting a dating ring. When I saw this ring box, God... for a second, I thought they were wedding rings!”

“I love you, but I also know how to take it easy.” He joked.

“I loved it. Thank you, Y/N.”

The morning remained cold, wet and impetuous, but, believe it or not, towards the end of the afternoon, a blessing occurred. The sun rose for a few moments and shone benevolently, and a couple who were now breathing in unity were able to contemplate it, and despite being in different places when this happened, their minds came together in a single thought: what a joy it was to be alive.

END

[A/N: I know for some people reading this the "dating ring" thing might seem weird. But in my culture it's something relatively common, and I only knew it was a cultural thing when I finished writing the smut. I decided to keep this detail because, idk, i think it's kinda a cute thing, although some people find it bizarre and associate with being possessive cause they have a severe perception about rings in relationships.

But this is nothing more than a simple silver ring that symbolizes a serious relationship. Common among young couples.

Well that's it. Keep your mind open and thanks for reading 🔥

I was a little inspired by this song:

#smut male reader #kpop smut #kpop #x male reader #male reader #joy smut #joy red velvet smut #red velvet #red velvet smut #x male insert #x smut #joy x reader #smut #k pop smut #x reader #fanfic #fanfic smut #y/n #male y/n #joy fanfic #smut and angst #angst with a happy ending #angst #male insert #kpop imagines

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

Hi everyone!

It is I, Aduah, the grandma herself. I just wanted to say a lil thing.

First of all, thanks for all your support! All the comments, reblogs, likes and asks really motivate me to keep going with this passion project! I know it’s getting a bit confusing, I will improve the tags so you’ll be able to follow the specific ones you want and ignore the rest!

Second of all, sorry if that anon hate attacked you as well. I wanted to reassure you that you’re not wrong for following and liking my stuff. I know some characters deviate from canon, but when you age people up, you also gotta take into consideration what happened in the timeskip and how it affects them. Some character are more “OCfied” than others, depends on who we are talking about and how they were in the show. I will put my own spin on them and put them into situations I myself found into. I think that’s what we do to cope with them, and that’s ok! As long as your visions don’t step on others’ and are not forced or controversial, you can read a character as you want!

That’s the beauty of fandoms, everyone has their story and their interpretation of characters! We can’t make 100% canon accurate depitions, we literally can NOT. Because we’re just fans. Only the original authors can make canon content. We’re here to fill the blanks with what we like!

I didn’t post that anon hate to gain simpathy. I am a grown ass adult who tries to let stress out by inventing stories from kids shows, I have been through enough already. I won’t cry for someone calling me “toxic”, especially if they won’t elaborate it. That’s just the only way I can answer them. If they sent an ask with their account, I could have replied in private. Or they can reach me with DMs. I’m open for adult talk.

I just got irritated they specifically tried to hurt anyone following me. That’ s just… hateful. That’s pure, free, unmotivated hate. Idk what this anon has going on in their life to be this spiteful, but I hope they will get in a better space! I have been there, I know sometimes people think hate helps. It doesn’t. But yeah, maybe they will get happy in the future! That’s what I hope for them!

Again, please don’t feel bad for following me. I will try and improve more and more!

Thank you for your trust!

Aduah 🐔

#ramble #random #important #love u all #feel better #I know it feels like I get 294748 hate messages but this is the first and I hope only one #I just wanted to put this out #stay safe

[miyamiwu]

Reblogging is a form of self-expression

I’ve seen a lot of posts about how people aren’t reblogging much art anymore, with the authors encouraging people to reblog coz it helps support artists. But the thing about most of these posts is that they don’t really talk about how the likes-reblog gap isn’t just widening for art posts. It applies to other types of posts as well—be it short or long text posts, some edit you made, photos, etc.

I don’t have that much followers, but some of my posts have reached over 1k notes. (And some rare popular ones have reached 5-6 digits). I write a lot of metas both here and on one of my side blogs. I also make gifs occasionally, and I have lots of original posts in general too.

But in all of my posts, there are always more likes than reblogs, and the gap is often wide.

When I look through some of the blogs in the notes, several of them are empty but with their Likes visible. And if they’re not empty, then all their posts are just their own. No reblogs at all...

Many of those Likes vs Reblogs posts talk about how reblogging helps the original poster but make little to no explanation on how reblogging serves the reblogger. And I guess that’s why the likes-reblogs gap continues to widen. People are framing reblogs as free advertising for the OP when we should be framing reblogs for what it primarily is—a form of self-expression.

When you reblog something, it’s like saying...

You’re so excited about the post that you want others to see it

You agree with the idea/opinion being expressed in the post (opinions, discourse, analysis, etc.)

You care about the things said in the post (like sharing pro-Palestine posts)

You identify with the community being represented in the post (like being part of a certain fandom)

You find the post funny and want to save it (like how you’d save memes to your phone)

You think the post is cute and want to squish it (cat photos, animal videos, kawaii stuff, etc.)

Or you just think the post is going to be a popular one so you’re “investing” early

etc.

You can even expand these ways of expression by adding your own commentary through tags or reblogs. You can’t do that with just liking.

Actually, you don’t even need to have a clear reason for reblogging something. Posts can simply be like stickers or stamps, which you collect to put on your scrapbook (your blog). Years later, you can then go through your archive and look back on how you were before at certain times in your life.

[To those who don’t know: Yes, we have an archive. It’s at username.tumblr.com/archive. You can filter posts by post type and by month/year of posting. Only posts/reblogs show up in the archive. Likes are not included.]

Moreover, reblogging is how you gain friends. Mutuals, after all, are two people who follow each other, and well, for someone to follow you, you must have something on your blog that they’d want to see more of. If you only like posts, then what’s there to see?

Original posts are nice, of course, but when I see a blog where all posts are just their own, I’m immediately given the impression that it’s being run by a brand. And it may be that the blog really is trying to maintain its Brand image—such is the case for side blogs dedicated to a certain topic (like poll tournaments or art-only blogs). But even then, people will expect you to have a Main blog or another side blog where you do reblog stuff.

It’s kind of how we know you’re human. And it’s also how we know that you’re open to actually engaging with others on this site.

A blog that’s empty or contains nothing but their own posts sends out the message that you’re not interested in or just don’t care about what other people are saying.

#tumblr #likes vs reblogs #reblogging #tumblr reblogs #tumblr meta #miyamiwu.info #miyamiwu.src #not fandom #reblogs

[radioactivemelody]

I was honestly going to post this on my sideblog but fuck it. This is more than QSMP. This is about a real person, a victim. Someone who I have admired since I was very young.

Many people may not know but I am Brazilian and Cellbit is the content creator I have been following ever since I joined the internet. What has been posted yesterday ripped my heart out. I didn't even know she had accused him of such things (because I wasn't on Twitter at the time) so the rawness of my reaction of seeing that is impossible for me to describe.

Non-brazilian people don't know what Cellbit has gone through ever since this started. It has been seven years of constant attacks, hatred and more. The entire internet literally hated him to the point of wishing his death. He had a really, really terrible image. It was hell, it is still hell. Even to this day.

No, I don't know the pain of the things he has gone through but I do know the pain, the exhaustion, the emptiness and hollowness of keeping to yourself amounts of trauma with no one to tell for such a long time. It consumes you, it destroys you day by day. It is an experience I wish for no one.

Another thing I have related to is about asexuality. For a very long time, I have questioned myself several times if I could call or see myself as an asexual. I wondered if it's because I have never dated someone before (I have never felt romantic attraction for someone), if I'm afraid of something or if there is something wrong with me.

I'm kind of cynical about things so I declared that I shouldn't be caring about this that much but from time to time, it keeps coming to haunt me. My own parents keep jabbing jokes at me, asking “why haven't I found a boyfriend yet” or “when I was your age, I also said I didn't want to marry and have children and look at me now”. All of this makes me very, very insecure.

Meanwhile I already have been comforted by a dear friend of mine, I saw myself in those words he described. It made me realize that my experience wasn't unique. That my own questioning wasn't senseless paranoia or babbling. I still am not sure but I'm happy that I'm not alone in this matter. But I am extremely disheartened to learn such things in this way. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

So, please. From now on, solely send him love and care. Let's show him that he has a loving community, people who care about him and wish him just the best of the best. Let's not remind him of the pain but rather the warmth of receiving love and support. Let's be understanding. Let's be kind.

Shall we be humane.

#cellbit #qsmp #<- putting this tag so it can reach more people

[da-proti-toku-grem]

why can't anyone understand that everyone is different and not everyone likes the same things and that it's completely okay AND normal for someone not to like going out and preferring to stay at home :/

#honestly i understand that my parents care about me and they don't want me to be feeling bad #and that they ask me bc they just want to make sure i'm okay #but i've explained to them what i feel like and they just don't get and i get mad but i akso know it's not their fault and just... oughhhhh #like yeah i have a weird kind of social anxiety according to my therapist and even she doesn't know exactly how to help me yet #but there are just so many reasons behind why i don't like going out and it's not just bc it gives me anxiety #or why those situations give me anxiety in the forst place #1. i'm just a very introverted person that doesn't like going out #2. crowded places/closed spaces/places where there's not enough ventilation/loud places (be it people talking or just music) overwhelme me #3. all said in 2 + flashing lights give me huge migraines that can linger for over 3 days #4. i am very much a night owl and i'm forced to live in a society where that isn't fucking acceptable apparently and i'm called lazy for - #- not being productive in the morning when the only reason behind it is that i am a lot more productive at night #but no one ket's me do that bc 'why are you doing stuff when you're supposed to be asleep?' #i have been the same since i was little. literally nothing has changed #and people where always like 'oh she's just shy' #but idk wtf changed #maybe it was that i became and 'adult' or maybe the fact that i started therapy and they told my parents that i have social anxiety. idk #but suddenly every single person in my family is worried about it and they're genuinely making me feel like there's smth wrong about me #i mean. i have my problems i'm not gonna go telling you that i'm perfect bc i'm pretty much not #but is there really smth that wrong with me that i need to fix #or is society just a bitch that doesn't understand that there's different kinds of people and everyone is different & IT'S COMPLETELY OKAY #have they ever thought about the fact that maybe these situations cause me anxiety bc i've been forced all my life to do them #even if i don't like them #instead of thinking that i don't like them BC they cause me anxiety?? #i mean. i know i have to go out more and that there's tons of things i can do ofc #but you can't just force me to do things i don't want to and put on a good face while doing it *every.fucking.day* #aaaaand i could add a lot more things but i'm once again reaching the tag limit so i shoukd just shut up #it's just driving me crazy bc i know they're trying to help but it really is not helping at all............. #ranting

[frostbitedoesart]

Just making a general post real quick in response to an ask.

When I say I'm anti-ai I mean I'm against any sort of AI that steals from others or would otherwise be used to put people out of a job. I don't feel like having an elaborate conversation about the positives and negatives of AI and all that, so I'll state this as plainly as possible.

I don't like AI art. I don't like AI voice impersonations. I don't like any sort of AI that has to steal stuff from people without their consent in order to function. That is literally it.

I'm not against ALL AI. I don't think people that are okay with AI in general should be burned at the stake or something. I'm just an artist and writer that doesn't like AI being used in CREATIVE SPACES. That's it.

I didn't think I would have to clarify this but, here you go, for anyone that was bothered.

#to the person who sent the ask #hopefully this clears things up #I answered you in this general post #because I didn't want to risk people getting upset at you #if they didn't like what you said. Think of this as me keeping you anonymous #I'm sorry if you see me as a “guilt-tripper” but you made that assumption based on minimal knowledge of my character #like. VERY minimal knowledge #you know nothing about who I am as a person or what the depth of my opinion was #you just saw me putting “fuck ai” in my tags and assumed that I meant ALL AI #which isn't an unreasonable assumption. it's a vague statement. But the ONLY reason I use vague tags is because it reaches more people #plus if you ACTUALLY look in the fuck ai tag it's mainly about AI art and such #so to just automatically label me as a guilt-tripper instead of trying to express that you respectfully disagree with my opinion #or what you THOUGHT was my opinion anyway #was something I really didn't appreciate #that being said #I'm not interested in turning this into some sort of conversation. #please don't respond to this directly #I've voiced my opinion on the matter. That's where this ends. #anyway extra tags that you can ignore// #artists on tumblr #small artist #oc artist #anti ai art #anti ai writing #anti ai voices #support human artists #human artist #fuck ai art #fuck ai writing #anti ai

[yutaleks]

Hi aleks, sometimes I feel like, no one wants to connect on this social media site? Idk. The like to rb ratio is depressing. I mean, I’m grateful that people are liking my posts. But like. I wanna hear what they think too, ya know?

not sure if you are a writer im guessing from the wording of this ask that you are. but I think it's a bit hard these days to get the level of interaction that you may be asking for

depending on what fandom youre in or what character youre posting about or what trope youre writing etc etc the size of the audience will change. like I already know in my mind if im writing something that is more geared towards stereotypical heteronormative relationships that will get much more interaction than something that is subversive. or if im writing a fic for a popular character that will get much more interactions than a not so popular one.

But at the same time, coming from someone who used to write for a very popular character, I have to say that the grass is not always greener? As in, I think there is a difference between quantity and quality of interactions. If im writing something that I know a core base of people who follow me will like, I know I will most likely get at least some sort of interaction from people who typically enjoy that content. I find that interaction to be more meaningful, especially if it's something I enjoy talking about. vs, if I write something with a bigger 'audience', perhaps there will be more reblogs but the back and forth interaction does not happen. that person will read the fic, reblog or leave a comment, and then be on their way. It does not create this relationship where you end up having a back and forth conversation or becoming mutuals or anything like that (at least, in my experience).

Like if I post a fic that EYE enjoy, and I get ten comments from lovely people, that means more to me than a hundred interactions on a fic I didn't put my whole dick into. ya know?

idk where im going with this. I guess I wanna say if you are passionate about something, and you receive even a few bits of feedback, that will feel so much more rewarding than trying to 'chase' the feedback by writing things you think others will enjoy. and I think too that people will be able to tell when you are writing something that you feel passionate about.

im of the opinion that you can't force people to reblog and interact with your work. ive seen every excuse under the sun for why people wont reblog. but I think if someone feels as passionate about something as you do, they will overcome whatever shyness they feel to come tell you that they appreciate what you are doing

#idk if what I said makes any sense but #I think coming into Tumblr as a writer its okay to want a better rb to like ratio but don't feel discouraged #there is a lot stacked against you right now #no one that I know uses the tags anymore cause they are full of spam #so sometimes the fics that appear on the dashboard are just mutuals reblogging each other. and as a newbie those circles are hard to get in #so someone with no writer mutuals and no following... their posts wont be seen by anyone with significant pull/reach #I would say that I think 'bigger' writers on here should at least try every once and a while to peek into the tags and boost writers #that are new / starting out and making genuine efforts to write #I wont explain but I think when you've been on here long enough you can tell who is posting in the tags for 'Tumblr clout' and who I postin #fic bc they genuinely are passionate about it #but I know most writers on here only read whatever they see on their dash #if people actually stopped spamming the tags with nonsense and the tags were more useable I think we would all use them more... ironic #anyway. I personally always try to reblog fics with comments and check the tags every once and a while for fics to read #I think that is best practice for writers but I know not everyone does that... #in the same vein #i think if you put effort into being a good reader consistently. writers with larger followings will notice / want to be mutuals and help #boost your writing to the dashboard #writing fic is a community that takes genuine effort to grow #TLDR: be a good reader and reblog fics and interact with writers. write things that come from your heart. interactions will follow with tim #*time #long post #ϟ asking aleksandria

[dawntheduckrb]

I'll stop posting wips eventually but it's been five days since I've said anything and I don't want anyone to think I'm dead/dying/stuck in a ditch and withering away, so here's 10% of the reason I disappeared (the duck is stuck in rendering hell) (and my little baby laptop is screaming at me every time I open up this file)

I might still be mostly lurking for a little bit so please be patient with me in the meantime 🙏🙏

#seriously though I'm sorry for just up and disappearing like that #wanna talk to people and interact with them so bad lately but I just can't bring myself to do it #so the best i can manage is blabbing in the tags like always #i don't know wtf is going on but over the past few days I've just felt like i don't deserve to talk to anyone #tried to reblog posts from mutuals several times but something in my head keeps saying; #'yeah they don't actually care for your input at all and you're being a bother for even trying etc etc' #and i know deep down that's probably not true (i hope) but i can't reason it away you know #and i know the best solution to this is to just talk to someone #let it be known that i *did* make an attempt to #i tried texting someone (and succeeded) but i couldn't keep doing it and I'm back at square one (and now feel worse lmao) #i'm not really putting this here for anybody to see it as much as i am for myself #but i know that (hypothetically) this could be seen by a real human so it still kinda feels like I'm reaching out in a way which feels nice #makes me feel less like I'm shriveling up in my own self imposed solitude #so uh hello person who might be reading the tags (there's six of you guys here now which is crazy cause i post nothing but junk here lol) #((but thanks anyway for following and even more thanks for reading this if you did)) #i'll make my way around all the posts i missed soon enough don't worry #i'm sorry i'm really not meaning to ignore anybody #i have drafted quite a few posts from moots that i couldn't finish leaving comments on but i have seen them #everyone here is super cool and talented as always <3 whether that be through art or writing or just finding neat posts to share #this wall of text is long enough and i'm very eeby so thank you again for reading this #tldr; not dead and i'll be okay eventually :) #not rb #hey look i didn't post a picture of my dog this time (a crime) #i'll make sure to share one the next time i get a good one

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 16

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

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I didn't sleep very well but I'm here.

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

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you move North, the sunlight fades sooner and rises later, the nights cooling with each mile. Nearly a fortnight on the road, and you return to the service of the queen. Bryce escorts you between the carts, gesturing in passing to his comrades, other times letting past another body on their own mission. You reach the front of the train where men with swords pace and keep watch over the surrounding lands. 

“Evenin’,” Bryce greets the guards outside the queen’s tent and they grumble back. The weariness of travel has overcome many of the travelers. 

You dip your head down and approach the tent flap. Before the card can pull it back for your entrance, it sweeps open from the other side. You step back as another figure falters before you. The king keeps hold of the silk and his eyes skim over you. He tilts his head and moves to hold the fabric open, beckoning you through with his large hand. 

“Your highness,” you murmur. 

His jaw squares but he says nothing. As you enter, the fabric falls heavily behind you. The king’s expression lingers in your mind, his silence even more. The tick in his cheek was hard to miss and you can hear his heavy footfalls as he stalks off. 

Within, the queen sits on a bench, playing with the tassel of her belt. Her father, Lord Dustan, stands to the side, arms crossed as he makes small steps back and forth. He tuts and chews his thumb. 

“Your husband does not behave as son-in-law,” the duke gripes lowly, “he would have let Debray fall to those vandals. He cares only for his frost lands.” 

“Father, he is only eager to be home. As much as I dread the cold, I cannot help but feel as such. I tire of this endless road,” Queen Jazlene yawns into a cupped hand. 

“Ah, but you must be a loyal wife. What of mine? What of your mother? She was alone in the castle.” 

“And you rode out to save her, didn’t you?” Jazlene prompts. 

“I am a lord of the summer lands, I am past my warring days,” Dustan snarls, “he would risk my flesh on an uprising he could crush with his left hand. He tests me!” The duke circles around as he jabs his finger in the air, “I deserve more dignity, more respect. I delivered him his kingdom.” 

“Yes, father, he is a frigid man,” Jazlene bemoans, “as icy a husband. He does neglect us both.” 

“Neglect?” Dustan faces his daughter, “does he not see to his contract?” 

She frowns and bats her doey eyes as she looks away, “it isn’t that he doesn’t fulfill his duty, it is only... how might I get an heir if I lie with my husband only once in a moon?” 

“Does he mean to deceive us? A son will bind us. A son is what we need. Does he think the summer lands will follow a king who does not sow his seed?” 

“I do not know, father. I... I have tried all I can think of.” 

“Mm,” the duke hums darkly, “that won’t do at all. Not at all. When I married your mother, she was swollen with you almost as soon as the vows were said. No, no, it won’t do. I will have word with the king, make certain he does not treat my daughter, his queen, so coolly.” 

Dustan stop and twiddles his fingers. You try to imagine him confronting King Geralt. Surely it is bluster for the sake of his daughter. 

“...we are ruined without an heir...” he mutters. 

Jazlene sits forward on the bench, “ruined, father? I am queen--” 

“Yes, yes, you are queen, but a queen has her duty too,” Dustan insists, “and it cannot be done with a negligent king. Leave it to me, daughter. The next I see the king, I shall handle our business. As I have ever done. Do you believe in me? For I did deliver you a fine marriage, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, father.” 

The duke goes to his daughter and rubs her shoulder. He leans in and you shrink against the tent wall, making yourself small. 

“Should it prove poor judgment,” his whisper scratches from his lips, “I will figure a way out.” 

He kisses her hair and turns to march out. He takes not notice of you though that is expected. Jazlene sighs as the flap falls and she leans back on her hands, swaying her leg. 

“Ah, the maid,” she cheeps, “you will fetch hot water for my feet. They ache.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

She grins, a catlike expression and sits up straight, “yes, that is right. I am a queen and soon, the king will be certain to treat me as such.” 

You flit off to your duty. As you emerge, your chest stirs with unease. Something about their conversation has you unnerved. Though they said nothing outright, it feels as if there is more laced between the words. The queen and her father hardly sound as allies to the king. 

You try to wipe the apprehension from your mind. You are but a maid and not so well-versed on noble matters. It isn’t your place to unpiece their declarations or untangle their riddles. You are to get the water to sooth the daughter of Debray’s feet, it may yet save you a box to the ears. 

⚔️

You shiver as the cart bounces over the hard ground. You count a month or so since your departure from the capital though the days blend in a fog. The gradual creep of the chill has advanced upon the part, slowing the wheels, and sending the riders to pause and cover their horses. You keep the fur cloak over your lap as you lean into the corner of the cart though Bryce seems enlivened by the atmosphere. 

The dim sky harkens the crossing of the intangible barrier between the summer and winter lands. Sprawling plains and rounded feels give way to rocky passes and jutting mountains, interspersed with lumpy tundras speckled with patches of mud. Several times, your soldierly escort has had to help yank free the wheels from some rut or another. 

“Are we there?” You ask through as chatter, blowing into your hands. “The Hinterlands?” 

“Mm, by my guess, we are at the Fox’s Tail. You see, it is the little strip of land where no man lives, summer or winter,” he explains, reaching to scratch his beard. You envy the warmth it must give to his cheeks. “Isn’t so cold yet, mouse, better brace yerself.” 

You nod and look ahead at the grey, brown expanse. There are dustings of frost but not snow, only on the distant caps of rugged mountains that shadow the horizon. You hug yourself as Daisy’s breath plumes in misty clouds around her head. 

“Why does no one live here?” You ask. 

“There are no trees, no grass to feed the livestock or game,” he shrugs, “it is barren...” he sucks his teeth and thinks, “there was a war. Hundreds of years ago, maybe more. The summer folk spilled upon the winter lands, some squabble over a slain lord... they put salt to the earth. They did not only want vengeance on the living, they wanted their descendants to suffer for their misdeeds. Starve out an entire people.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “what the summer people didn’t understand is that the winter skinned do not stay still. They move with the winds. You’ll see, mouse. You haven’t done the last of yer scurrying.” 

You huddle down as another cold breath sweeps through the air. You’re not used to it but you will be. That’s how it always is. You just have to take what you get and make it work. You can’t complain for what you have; a warm cloak, a cart, and a kind companion. 

⚔️

Your teeth chatter as you hold closed the front of the fur cloak, the hood over your head as you walk the frozen earth. More often than not, you’ve left the prized cape in your cart for your return. It is too heavy to wear while serving the queen but the weather permits you no mercy. It is far too bitter to forgo the extra layer. 

Bryce is unbothered in his mail and the simple fur trim the collar of his wool cloak. He only seems to thrive in the dipping temperatures, stoking a fire for your nocturnal return so that you may sleep in its warmth. His constancy keeps you from mourning the lost summer sunshine. 

He stands behind you as you cross to the queen’s tent, now raised with several layers to insulate the walls. You enter as you do every night, unnoticed as Queen Jazlene mindlessly stares into the pages of a book. She’s grown quiet these last weeks as the travel wears on her, even her wardrobe showing the effects. 

You feel a gust from beneath the tent wall and step away from it. You watch the queen, huddled beneath a blanket on a stool, shaking as she tries to warm her hands in each other. She wears several satin cloaks layered over each other but the fabric is too sleek to garner much heat. 

She puffs into her palms and groan.  

“Damn this cold,” she mutters, then sits up, “maid, tea!” She demands, “Something warm! Anything!” 

You utter a small “your highness” and spin away to your task. You step out into the cold and go off to find a fire and a pot. The queen has some berry tea in her chests.  

You acquire a cup of steaming water from a cluster of servants around a flame. You linger for a moment to absorb some of the fire’s haze then set back toward the royal tent. As you near, a shadow nearly collides with you. You keep the cup balanced as you scramble around the figure. The torch light catches the king’s golden eyes as they meet yours. 

“Your highness,” you murmur. 

He grunts as he stops fully. He stares down at you wordlessly. You cannot read his expression as shadows dance around his features, flickering various emotions across his face. He bows his head and presses on. You turn to watch him go as concern rolls up your throat. 

In those last weeks, months you believe, you’ve not seen much of the king. You’ve wondered after his elusivity. At first, you thought it might be due to the combat at Debray, perhaps he was disheartened by the last act of resistance. Then you surmised it might be evasion of his own wife. Alas, you could not guess and fathomed it was not your place to do so. 

This brief encounter further perplexes you. You can’t help but question if it is you. You recall the last day in the capital, the grit of his voice casting you out. Go. The memory ripples through you. 

You think much of yourself. It wouldn’t be anything to do with a paltry maid. You focus on the hot water in your hand and continue on to the queen’s tent. 

You enter and wrap the dried berries and leaves, steeping them in the steaming water. You hover over the cup, waiting for the water to deepen in hue and cool enough to drink. When you bring it to the queen, you feel her gaze upon you. 

“Your highness,” you hand her the cup. 

She hesitates to take it, only doing so after deep consideration. She holds the tea in one hand as her other tugs on your cloak. She makes an ugly noise. 

“And where did you find this, maid?” She sneers. “Hmm, I sit her in my summer garb and you wear a bear’s skin?” 

Your lips part and you raise your shoulders. You look at the tent wall and frown. You poke your hand outside the cloak and touch the soft fur.  

“Your highness,” you look down at the cloak then at her trembling grasp on the cup. “Would you like it? You look awfully cold.” 

“Yes, I want the damn cloak!” She yanks it hard, “I am the queen and you did not think to offer me a proper cloak? How stupid are you.” 

You bow your head and reach to unbuckle the cloak. When it is loose, you shrug it off and hand it over. You will find a spare blanket. There must be some left among the luggage. 

She shoves the cup at you and stands. She swings the cloak around her and hums as she pulls its snug around her figure. She sits again and rubs her chin against the fur. 

“Much better,” she says, “I’ve been suffering this damnable place for far too long.” 

She takes the tea back, spilling a drop on your hand. You back away, the liquid cooling and sending a new chill through you. You cover one hand with the other and clutch tightly, locking your jaw against the tremor that crawls up your spine. 

The queen slurps from the tea and makes a face. She sneers, “I want wine,” she pouts, “how long must I be deprived? Wine!” She snarls down at the cup, “but I must drink this bile. Oh, but the king bids it,” she raises her voice mockingly, “you must obey your husband.” She shakes her head and takes another gulp, “at least it is warm. At least--”  

She holds the cup away from her suddenly as her face twists. She drops it and recoils, panic washing over her. She keels forward, holding her skirts out of the way as she spews onto the rug spread over the hard ground. She wretches loudly, spasming with the horrid sounds snagging in her throat. 

The smell of her vomit permeates the tent. She stays bent over her lap as she pants. You come forward and offer her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. She sits up and gulps tightly, her features drawn. She pats her lips. 

“Well, clean it up,” she turns her feet away from the puddle between them. “Stupid maid.” 

She pokes a sharp nail into your arm and you wince.  

“Your highness, are you unwell?” You ask, “shall I fetch a physician? Or some ginger?” 

“No, you stupid cow, I am not unwell,” she flicks her fingers at you before waving away the stench of her bile. She stands and walks away from it, her hand settling on her middle. She faces you and smiles broadly, “I am carrying the king’s son.” Her face darkens as she wrinkles her nose, “I told you, you twit, to clean that up. You best do so before I make you eat it.” 

You nod and bend your neck, “yes, your highness, I will fetch water.” 

“I don’t care, just do it,” she snaps and rubs her stomach. She lets out a shuddery groan and turns her back to you. You watch as she draws tight the cloak and sways with a trill, “I will be a true queen now. He cannot deny me any longer.” 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

[mishapen-dear]

I read that same fic earlier and I just straight up muted the person so their works don't show up for me anymore lmao

there was also another one like that posted yesterday because the person was mad at something qBad did a couple of days ago while not at all in his right mind and amnesiac, it was odd (not shitting on the person just confused and slightly concerned)

yeah there’s. a lot of misconceptions around qbad rn lmao. It’s one of the reasons Im so obnoxious about him, tbh, so that it’s not JUST the negativity that gets spread. He’s a really good target for the hate rn, because he has a smaller fanbase and his pvp playstyle + lore lead him to all that antagonizing during purgatory, and that gets vented out into fics.

It’s genuinely really interesting, the dichotomy that seems to exist between tumblr and twitter regarding him. Ive heard nothing but slander about bbh from twitter (again, he is not faking his illness, that is a lie), but he’s got a solid enough foothold on tumblr that ive seen more hate towards the fans that the cc, here. which makes sense, given how we take over the tag almost ever day when he logs on. genuine o7 to people who find that obnoxious but thats one of the reasons i overtag so much, for blocking purposes.

anyway i think all the bbh mischaracterization means that we just need to write about him more >:D please this is a call for more bbh centric fics from people who do not hate him/know a little bit about his lore. blease he’s such a fun pov to write i promise

#mishapen answers #discourse #<- discussion of it anyway #idk maybe people are spreading lies over here too but i block anyone who doesnt filter their neg/go out of their way to make bad faith #arguments. #i think ita REALLY interesting how seeing all the hate towards bad had me finding myself saltier towards other fans/creators too #so i can understand why these vent fics are being put out yknow sometimes its just really fun to hate a guy #but that’s what neg tags and bashing [character] tags on ao3 are for #on tw/itter where a lot of this gets spread you dont really. Have that #dont mind me ive just been ruminating on this a bunch the past two weeks #ive never been so active in a fandom where discourse had the opportunity to actually reach me #its been p interesting to observe how thats effected the way i say and clarify things #<- rhats the main point of my other post ig because if my gifter is someone who has been seeing nothing but bbh neg after bbh neg comes her #*here and sees me swooning about bbh’s ‘only egg protector’ and ‘no one helps him’ complexes Getting Worse during the end of purgatory #then they dont have the context that im doing so strictly for fun and not putting it on other characters/blaming them for not also swooning #we have media literacy in this house i promise #i would like more characters to have flaws and feel alone and commit incredible sins #anyway. excusez-moi im verbose when im tired and procrastinating #anonymous

[acidy-stars]

Omfg IT HAS SO MUCH TIME TAHT I DONT POST WTF

Anyways

Soda cup<333(i love my own ocs so much jjwkdhekdj)

#the daily object show #<---btw soda cup is a tdos oc #object show #object show community #tdos #object shows #osc #ii #bfb #(putting other object show tags so this can reach more people) #original character #osc oc art #object show community oc #osc oc #object oc #object show oc #oc art #ocs #my ocs #artists on tumblr #osc art #oc

[musical-chick-13]

Fuck it, weird-yet-galaxy-brain take is that Love Is War is rom-com Death Note, but not in regard to the ship that everyone thinks, and what I mean by this is that Kaguya and Miyuki are NOT the lighthearted lower-stakes rom-com version of Light and L, they're the lighthearted lower-stakes rom-com version of Near and Mello.

#NO THINK ABOUT IT #they both want the same end result but achieving that result gets wrapped up in the idea of 'winning' against the other person #history of academic rivalry #they each have qualities the other lacks-and thus together become greater than the sum of their individual traits #the one seen as 'weird' and/or 'cringe-y' was willing to reach out at one point and the other person wouldn't let themselves accept it #because of their personal psychological issues #the rivalry is more the result of unfortunate external influences rather than any actual ideological conflict #issues that come from inheriting a title and making your own name for yourself despite an inferiority complex #DO YOU SEE THE VISION™ #OBVIOUSLY it's not a perfect or direct translation but as the number one kaguya/miyuki stan I think I'm allowed to say this #kaguya sama #near x mello #meronia #(I don't want to put this in the full fandom tags because I don't think it belongs there??) #(but I know people are going to want to have this tagged as SOMETHING so they can block it) #this is a very strange intersection of interests & I'm not really sure it's going to make sense to anyone but me but *gestures wildly* here #like genuinely I might sound completely deranged as I say this but also I've been up for about 24 hours straight so #(also I recently read a fic for n/m where something kind of love is war-esque happened and my brain just...went wild I guess)

[kirii-chan]

I forgot which artist that made the fanart. But im pretty sure they didnt put it for sale as shirt on shopee.

The shopee link:

#mcr fanart #mcr #my chemical romance fanart #mcr memes #my chemical romance memes #i put meme tag so it can reach to more people and help inform the artist

[torchickentacos]

anyways. having fun with the album project thing I mentioned. Using the flat small brush from here for krita. One brush only, no undo button, all done on 1/54th of a 1.5k x 1k canvas. it's actually pretty therapeutic, I listen to the album I'm drawing while I draw it. This does mean that for AM I got to like. track 2 though and most of that was bc of formatting issues lol.

#vent in tags though bc i need. somewhere that isn't yet another 4:30 am vent google doc. too many of those and they're not helping #i don't want to talk but i don't want to be fully alone right now but i can't just spring this on someone in dms either so . tags it is #tw death. like really not a fun time over on torchickentacos dot tumblr dot com right now. genuine warning here #but i'm not doing well and i need this right now. anyways told my therapist i feel like i should be more okay right now than I am #and he was like. you. think you should be MORE okay after someone you knew died? #like. ah. hm. i see. now. how that might not be rational thinking. #i mean in my brain it was like. okay we're approaching day three and i haven't reached back out to my other irls #and i'm awake at 4 am #and i feel like need to pull it together because other people need me for stuff #and like. this happened before but harder. i should KNOW that there's no way to expedite this #because unfortunately I've been through this before!!! people make that choice to leave and it sucks and that's that! #like i KNOW how hard this is especially since it's a very personal topic. #but i'm still trying to rush myself here #it stresses me out to think that I'm not there enough for myself to be there for other people right now #sigh. i wonder how much of it's because i feel like i should have been there for those friends more even though it's irrational. #because that's genuinely not how it fucking works and I KNOW THAT PERSONALLY yet I still put that on myself. #people can have all the support they need and still choose to not take it. and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. #well. tomorrow i return to socializing and being a human person again #little bit at a time.