#I am at the age where I simply choose not to engage with things that piss me off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oh--jeez · 2 months

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FIRST OF ALL: there is nothing wrong with being bad at something, whether you are doing your best or not. you are obligated to nobody and nothing to improve your art or your appreciation of art, as long as you don't make it someone else's problem. i am MAGNIFICENTLY BAD at sewing, and i sew my own clothes anyways, and wear them! where people can see!! and if i download a sewing pattern and fuck it up - which is inevitable, given my dyspraxia and ADHD - that's on me, and i can either fix it or walk around looking lumpy. i choose lumpiness at least 75% of the time, because i am now old enough to be eccentric and not just unfashionable.

THAT SAID:

i keep seeing fic authors apologising for their clear, well-written, engaging fics being "confusing" due to reader complaints about, among other things, changes in narrator perspective, use of subtext, and (tagged, always) unreliable narration.

these are extremely basic narrative tools in story writing, and it's fine to use them.

stop apologising for your readers, who, until they found fanfiction written by other children their age, hadn't read anything they weren't assigned in school, for being functionally illiterate. stop apologising to people who prefer manga, and have decided to get mad at you for writing a wall of text instead of publishing your story as a dōjinshi manga.

you have done nothing wrong. you are writing a story, and you absolutely are not obligated or even advised to provide a humble apology with your author's note c-notes to people who want to read horny fic about tobirama in the potterverse, but refuse to engage with written medium at a level, frequency, and breadth of topic that would allow them to GET BETTER AT IT.

reading fiction is a practiced skill that gets easier and more enjoyable with time, barring the interference of chronic disabilities. there is a reason why we start with 'THE VERY HUNGRY CATERPILLAR' and work our way up to 'Hóng lóu mèng,' and it's not that little kids can't invent and enjoy more complex narratives, or that an adult, upon entering an adult literacy program, will automatically be able to take in and enjoy advanced literature with intricate grammar and subtle wordplay, simply cos they're adults. it's the reading. you have to put in the time and effort to get better at reading written language, and familiarise yourself with the function and utility of basic-to-complex grammar, even if you don't study the technicalities.

i ask you to stop apologising for doing nothing wrong, because people are starting to believe they're entitled to an apology from creators for creating things they don't like. i'm not talking about racist, misappropriated, or misogynist content, or people producing fetishising, transmisic, or pedophilic material for the delight of rapists and chasers. i'm talking about people just not liking where the story is going, or how you choose to portray inner monologues vs spoken ideas, or your use of techno-jargon. those are stylistic and creative choices by you, in your art, and if they don't like your flavour they can go read someone else. you are not responsible for entertaining everyone, all the time.

your readers are free to enlarge the text, use a dictionary, pay attention to who is talking instead of skimming cos the chapter is "boring" and "too long" (?!?!), or any other material or ephemeral adaptation they need to make it accessible and enjoyable to them, before coming to you and complaining that you're writing for a level of literacy they are unable or refuse to get to.

"reading with a dictionary what kind of nerd shit is that" the kind of nerd shit that wants to know what words mean so they can enjoy what they're reading, until they know so many words they don't need a dictionary to understand what's happening. it's what nerds used to do before the internet, when we didn't have a way to reach out instantly and demand the author explain their story to us, personally. we had to write LETTERS demanding that, so most - not all - of us opted to just open a dictionary or consult a grownup about what a turn of phrase meant instead of waiting a month for a reply.

to readers who want a story explained: the story you are reading is the explanation. that's the author explaining it to you. they have taken a piece of their heart and carefully written it out and posted it for you to read, for free. if you didn't understand it, read it again to see if you missed anything. if you don't want to do that, or you didn't enjoy it, move on. otherwise, you're like people who leave bad reviews on free advanced sewing and advanced knitting patterns, complaining that you tried it and it is too complicated for you. the world is full of accessible, beginner-level fiction and crafts. either resolve to get better at the thing you want to enjoy, or stop complaining that fun and challenging things exist for people who are good at reading, knitting, and any other pleasant recreational or cultural pursuit.

NB: if the author was being a bigot and not just writing about a bigot, by all means yell at them. learn the difference, first.

also, if you're fixing your mouth to talk about how i piss on the poor, this isn't directed at people with learning disabilities, of which i have several.

because of those, i'm not an author. yeah, imagine that: i'm someone who is passionate about being kind to creators and engaging with their chosen medium in an informed and honest way, without myself being a creator. it's called "being a person, and understanding other people are also people."

i could probably try writing fiction, and maybe get better at it, but it's not a pressing issue and i'm perfectly happy just reading. fic authors are magical beasts we should value and love, not treat like AU spank bank vending machines that ate our money.

EDIT: man this sure is a lot of words about how i don't write

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nihil-ism · 23 days

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𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

⸻ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? Very early on in life, I wouldn't be able to pinpoint an exact age. Definitely somewhere around middle school in a continuous way; it was then that I started to write my own stories inspired by books I read, and even fanfiction. It kind of came naturally to me, just like my art hobby, because it was a nice way to pass time and indulge my escapism (I didn't have many friends, but also always liked spending time on my own).

⸻ 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞? Rarely, I am usually drawn to the same genres and themes I like to write about. I can enjoy a fluffy coffee shop AU once in a while, if it's well done. But most of the time these kinds of genres are too tame for me; I like my drama, complexity, horror and smut.

⸻ 𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧? I've never been compared to anyone as far as I can remember, and I don't really conciously emulate the writing of other authors -- however, I am definitely inspired by how certain writers phrase things, or by the vocabulary they choose. I have two final fantasy fics that greatly motivate me to expand my english vocabulary and write more intricate sentences, and I have always loved how Patrick Rothfuss writes. There is something about longwinded descriptions and flowery, sometimes even pompous language that I greatly enjoy, especially when it's paired with dark themes, horror, and erotica.

⸻ 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞? Since I recently moved it's mostly a work in progress right now, but I am glad that I managed to get this far already.

I have a dedicated place for all my Resident Evil merch; the general idea for my room here is to be mostly cyberpunk inspired when it's finished (as in, Cyberpunk 2077 // V's room), but with random fan merch occupying the space (and jellyfish!!).

⸻ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞? Engaging with their media of origin, mostly. Usually my muse sparks most when I play their games (when it comes to my main fandoms of resident evil and final fantasy 8), sometimes also when I read other fanfics or even see posts about them. But 9 times out of 10, playing the games will do it. Aside from that, if I don't have time or energy but want to try and coax the respective muses out, I have playlists for them on my spotify which I listen to as I sit down to write. I have playlists for each character/muse, and sometimes also a playlist for the fic I am writing. Also a separate playlist for smut, because that needs a special mood and all.

Part of the whole keeping-myself-inspired thing is also running a sideblog for my fics where I can reblog aesthetics, quotes, and all that to get me into the right headspace.

⸻ 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝐃𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮? Definitely recurring themes, and they don't really surprise me because they usually don't change. I love focusing on the dark things, on dissecting the characters to see what makes them tick, on expanding what we have been given and twist it into something even darker.

Exploring a character's past and therefore their trauma, find what triggers them into action, have them suffer through all of it again as they progress the story - those things are my main drives to write and the reason why my fics always end up becoming massive instead of short °^^.

Smut is something I enjoy writing, but I often use it as a tool to explore character dynamics and the aforementiones themes, simply because it's fun (and not because I feel smut needs a story, it's simply preference in writing for me).

⸻ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? Mostly the things I mentioned in the question before, it's my main drive to explore character dynamics; or shine a light on parts of the canon story that were only briefly mentioned (if at all), and see what can be done with that. It's a bit like doing a puzzle to me, in which I try to stick as close to canon as possible while expanding on it and trying to give it my own twist. The main reaction from readers I am usually going for is 1) writing in such a way it's believable the characters would speak and act this way, and 2) make readers feel like they are experiencing a DLC (when I am writing for games), or a secret additional chapter, or a bonus episode etc.

⸻ 𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? Sadly comments are a dying breed it seems, so any comment I get is amazing feedback and usually motivates me to at least pick up my notes again and do some background work, depending on how much time and energy I have currently.

Thankfully I have never received a comment that pressed me to continue or anything like that, and I hope it stays this way.

But if I had to choose, I'd say the most gratifying and motivating comments are from people who notice the little hints I leave in my writing when it comes to foreshadowing. When they pick up on me hinting towards something brewing in the background that might come to bite the characters' behinds soon, or when little side-comments hint to other characters that might soon make an appearance.

I also would love hearing what parts the readers enjoyed most, it would help a lot to understand if I am "doing a good job", for lack of better words.

Oh and of course the general excitement when drama is about to unfold, it always makes me smile when people enjoy those parts.

⸻ 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬? ...honestly I have never thought about that before. Maybe, quite simply, that I made their day a little better with my writing. That would be nice.

⸻ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫? Character analysis, I'd say. I'm not sure if I always get across what I have laid out inside my head because it can become quite complicated and twisted (which reminds me I should post more headcanon posts), but character analysis makes up about 70% of my foundations for a fic.

Also I think due to this I am quite good at finding a character's voice (as in, writing in a way that doesn't feel OOC).

⸻ 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? Oof, that depends.

Mostly I feel good about it, otherwise I wouldn't publish anything for people to read. But when I am forced to take longer breaks from writing, I feel incredibly rusty (mostly because english is not my first language, so I don't use it as regularly in my everyday life). It's frustrating sometimes because it takes time and effort to get back to the level it was when I left off, and so it impacts the time it takes me to finish a chapter, which in turn stresses me out a bit because I know how fast media consumption works these days. I try not to take the whole time-thing too seriously, but sometimes it gets to me.

⸻ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐱 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡? Definitely a mix of both. First and foremost I write for myself, because I have a vision and I want to get it out of my system. I used to do that with roleplaying, but due to many reasons that is not a feasable outlet anymore these days. Maybe sometime in the future, with the right people and on the right platform.

I don't know if people who write fics and never roleplayed can relate, but when you write characters in rp, they often tend to develop a "life and mind of their own" (we usually just call it "the muse - aka character - is awake (and rattling the bars of their enclosure)" because that's what it feels like).

But yeah, that inspiration and creativity needs to go somewhere, so writing fics it is!

Aside from that, after a while I try to consider my readers in terms of pacing of the story, structure, internal dialogues versus action and all these things. To me, it's a way to improve my writing and not something I feel is a burden.

TAGGED BY: @judasiskariot (thank you so much, this was a lot of fun!) TAGGING: @blauerregen | @sauron-kraut | @no-bee (( if you want to, ofc!)

#ask game #// my writing #this took me a hot minute but I finally had time to finish it! :D #thanks for tagging me in those I love rambling ahah #AS ONE CAN SEE.

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faderifted · 19 days

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#FADERIFTED. Selective SINGLEFANDOM MULTIMUSE for the DRAGON AGE series featuring GARRETT HAWKE, INQUISITOR LAVELLAN, CULLEN RUTHERFORD and others. High enthusiasm, slow writing speed. Established in Sep 2024 and written by Min (30+, she/her). Not spoiler free. Duplicate friendly.

I feel sun through the ashes in the sky. Where's the one who'll guide us into the night? What's begun is the war that will force this divide. What's to come is fire and the end of time.

GALLERY | MEMES | MUSIC CREDIT

BLOG ROLL: vidyadawn (Dan Heng) | delusionaid (Genshin Impact multimuse) | inominati (Honkai: Star Rail multimuse)

Blog Rules below the cut.

MUSE LIST & CHARACTER SHEETS HAWKE | LAVELLAN | CULLEN | ANDERS

I. ABOUT ME. My name is Min, I'm over 30 years of age and I've been rping in various fandoms for over 15 years. I work during the week so replies are slow, but I'm online throughout the dayand available through DMs or discord (for mutuals only).

II. REQUIREMENTS. If you are interested in roleplaying with me, you must be at least 18 years of age, ideally over 25. I make no exceptions for minors, regardless of thread content. I will gravitate towards DA canon muses (in this context I consider wardens and inquisitors "canon"), but I am open to OCs if the character appeals to me and crossovers if I can see a way to merge our worlds together.

III. WRITING. I prefer plotted threads and longer replies (on average I'll write 3-6 paragraphs). What matters to me is the content of our posts and our ability to progress in the story we want to tell. I don't really do short convos anymore (unless it's dash crack) and I don't write unplotted starters because they often lead nowhere. If you have ideas for our muses, just message me and if you don't have ideas yet but would like to write, let's plot together :)

IV. MEMES. Best way to get something started with me is through memes. Any memes in my meme tag are available without time limit for all mutuals, so no need to ask first, just send in whatever tickles your fancy! Heads up: it might take me forever and three days to respond, but I will get there eventually. Feel free to reblog any meme posts directly from my blog, I don't mind that at all. Bonus: there's a high chance you'll get a meme reply from me 84 years after sending it, when you no longer remember it.

V. SHIPPING. I don't auto-ship and once I do have a ship for a muse (or maybe more than one) I'll probably cap. If I write multiple ships, they are automatically in separate verses unless discussed otherwise. Don't be afraid to ask if you're interested in shipping, the worst case scenario could be that it doesn't work out.

VI. SOCIAL POLITICS. I am against callout and cancel culture and do not engage in it. Callouts will not be reblogged - I curate my dashboard my own way and I have no interest in being dragged into other people's fights. I don't respect publicly hating on fictional ships, characters or portrayals. I will never harass anyone or shame them for the fictional things they choose to write, I simply avoid, blacklist or block what I don't want to see. I believe the RPC would be a better place if people tried to be more tolerant, respectful and kind to one another.

Rules are subject to change. Thank you for reading this far! :)

#( pinned. )

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everlastiingiimmortals · 7 months

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Name: "aventurine."

Age: "hm, no. too easy. how about, if you can guess with a margin of error of two years, you win a prize!"

Do you like to cuddle?: "with you? i'd be concerned i'd get pushed off the bed. i know my charm is a little too much for some people. yes, by 'some people', i mean you, veritas."

Can we make-out?: "oh dear. not before a drink or two. some things are best appreciated after working for them."

A night in or dinner out?: "come on, we are on penacony, are we not? i refuse to miss out on the local cuisine. a man of refined tastes such as you surely wouldn't pass either, would you?"

Whip cream or chocolate syrup?: "either or, i'm not picky with my sweet tooth ~ "

Chocolates and roses?: "lucky that men like us don't have to choose. although, you do have enough thorns to make up for the roses, if we were to forego them."

What makes you a good Valentine?: "my irresistible charm, the excellent company i offer, and an excuse for you to sharpen those claws of yours. admit it, you enjoy it."

Would you cook for me?: "uh, trust me, you don't want me to."

Would you let me cook for you?: "hm. i suppose i could gamble on whether or not you'll poison me ~ "

Where would you take me on a date?: "how about i keep it a surprise, and you have no other choice but to trust me if you want to find out?"

Who’s paying?: "fiiiine i will. that would probably be the easiest part, anyway."

What did you get me for Valentine’s Day?: "the pleasure of my company -- and maybe a contact in those archives who stubbornly deny you access to their records for your research. you're welcome."

(i'm sorry about him)

Heart Day application! Still accepting. | @apocryphis

"...What is this." It is not a question, nor is a response desired from the other man sitting across from him when he opens the holographic message. Did Aventurine actually waste his time on typing all this? Honestly...

To his credit, he does at least... skim over it, but two questions down and he's doing his best (in vain) to not cringe into the cushions of his seat.

He's tired already.

Valentine's? This must be a joke. Surely it's a joke. There's simply no possibility that the Stoneheart did not concoct this stupid... application with the intent to get under his skin.

...And unfortunately, it is working.

Ratio does his best to not frown in incredulity, but between the piles of unwanted gifts left in his office every year or this one irritating, impossibly infuriating... proposition, this taunt -- for that is what it is -- it is difficult to tell what is worse.

Could he ignore it? Burn it in the fireplace, metaphorically, pretend he didn't see it? While it's certainly an option, it is not a smart one. Luck was never on his side with the other man, and Aventurine clearly pulled this stunt right in front of him knowing, due to his diligent and fastidious nature, that he routinely and promptly checks his messages; there is no attempting to assume a belated ignorance with this, lest he wishes to be a hypocrite, and worse: lie. Plus, there is no doubt Aventurine has already seen his vexed expression play out in real time. He cannot lie out of this even if he wanted to. The idea of Aventurine bringing up his hypothetical discarding of this thing in conversation (he can already imagine the petulance, exaggerated specifically to rub his discourtesy into his own skin) and having to deal with that mess is even less appealing than the words on the hologram before him. The scholar rubs his temple in exasperation, the telltale throb of an impending headache lurking beneath his skull.

And when that is not enough to rid him of the frustration threading his nerves, he covers his face with one hand and sighs, both world-weary and aggrieved.

"I hate you," he begins, uncharacteristically inelegant. A wave of his other hand dismisses the message and he peeks between his fingers to glare, half-heartedly, at the blonde (smug, stupid) man before him. "For starters, Aventurine, I am not engaging in stupid guessing games with you, nor do I care for your 'prizes'. Secondly: no, no," he skips over the fifth part, "I am not indulging your childish taste buds, do not entertain the thought of purchasing either for me -- I don't want them -- you are terrible company, and I wouldn't poison you, regrettably and contrary to whatever misconceptions of me you may have." A pause. The bribe of more academic resources at his fingertips isn't worth it. It's not. It's not. There is no guarantee on Aventurine being truthful either. This isn't a contract for him to follow through with. "I do not trust you. You ought to pay for inconveniencing me with this to begin with."

Not a yes, but... It's not a no..?

#//an answer sought; (ASK)#apocryphis #//everlasting; (IC)#//cogito ergo sum; (RATIO)#absolutely delighted at how this single thing ruined Ratio's entire day #having the time of my life answering this #he literally could not come up with a decision and that's so fucking funny to me HE REALLY DID GET STUCK IN A LOOP

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sebdoeswords · 2 years

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It's unfair how you're trying to ban Vernonciri just because it's Ciri's ship with a "strange old man". although Vernon is not much older than Ves. According to this logic, Vesiri, Roche/Geralt and Regis/Geralt are also pedophilia, which you so vehemently oppose, but for some reason, only VernonCiri gets dirt for the age difference. Stop trying to throw mud at my ship and constantly provoke me with it.

Girlie, this is the first of four asks you've sent me in a row. Chill out.

Also I never called your ship pedophilia, but clearly you seem to associate it with that, so that says more about you than it does me.

Roche is at least 45 judging by his design. There is no age implication for Ves, but if we go by design again she looks to be around Ciri's age, maybe a few years older. Ciri is around 20 or 21 years old in tw3, since "A Question of Price" takes place in 1251, so Pavetta would've given birth in 1252 most likely.

A 20 year old, even though an adult, is in a completely different stage of life than a 45 year old. They worry about different things. They have different priorities. They have different levels of experience with how the world works. The way society is structured means that older people inherently have power over younger ones by virtue of having that extra experience and knowledge. So no, your ship is not pedophilia. But it's still creepy, and the age gap makes for a serious power imbalance.

The difference between VernonCiri, Geregis and Geroche is that one of those ship involves a very young character. Geralt and Roche, who in the latter two ships are the younger ones involved, are still middle aged or older adults. They are settled into adulthood and have done their part of learning the ways of the world, society, and life as a whole. They are not going to be easily swayed by power imbalances, because power imbalances are harder to come by the older characters are.

And no, none of these ships are pedophilia. They never were and never will be, and I never claimed that either. That quote you took from my bio is not, in fact, - as flattering to you as that may be - directed at you specifically, and I actually wrote that bio before i even knew you existed. It indicates that i do not condone shipping adult characters with minors (that's characters under 18, in case you needed a refresher), such as Pavetta and "Duny" (14/15 and over 30 respectively) or Book!Ciri (who is give or take also 14 or 15 at the time) with members of the Aen Elle like Avallac'h, Eredin or Auberon. They are several hundred, if not thousand years old, and she is a literal child. THAT is pedophilia. And THAT I oppose.

I don't care if pedophilia or age gaps are normal in the middle ages because I live in 2023, not the middle ages. I have 21st century morals, ethics and beliefs, and things that go against those will naturally rub me the wrong way. I am allowed to not want to engage with those things. I do not go out of my way to harass people who don't, either.

And yes, age gaps exist today too, but if you take one look at how people ridicule Leonardo DiCaprio for not dating women over 25 when he himself is 48, you'll see that I am not alone in finding these large age gaps weird.

I am not provoking you. I am not posting in your tag, I am not tagging you in posts about ships you don't like. You choose to seek these things out yourself. I am not throwing dirt at your ship. I simply don't like it. I don't like Geralt/Yen or Geralt/Jaskier either, but strangely enough no yenralt or geraskier shipper has ever appeared in my inbox complaining about it. Me not creating content for your ship is not "throwing dirt". I am allowed to dislike a ship for whatever reason, and it is not your business to try and convince me otherwise. I like Vesiri because i think they're cute. This has no influence on your ship. They exist independently from each other.

i don't care about your ship enough to try and ban it, and i don't know where you got the notion from that I was trying to do so. I don't care about your ship, I don't care about you, and it's frankly insulting how important you think yourself to believe that everything I do is to spite you, and not simply because I enjoy something independently of you.

Me and my friends are just trying to make content for a ship we like, and you're the one who constantly tries to interject your own ship in its stead. The two can coexist, I promise. Now please stop stalking the tag of a ship you clearly don't like and stop harassing people in DMs and asks. It's not doing you or your ship any favours.

#asks #marinakd29 #marinamk29 #discourse

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proheromidoriyashouto · 2 years

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hey! just saw ur rb of that blog post about proshipping and antis and it was an interesting read, what are your thoughts on the matter?

hello! oh boi oh boi uhhhhhhhhh

there's this idea among younger people on the internet--I am 28 years old for reference--that everything needs to be a safe space in the sense that it is the responsibility of all adults/fandom participants to engage with their interests in completely inoffensive ways to "protect the children."

this became very long so here is a read more:

"the children" meanwhile feel it is their right to wander anywhere they damn well please, even spaces not intended for them at all, sometimes especially places excluding them, and make demands of the people in those spaces. it's not that "the children" don't read the warning signs, but that they as "feelings yakuza" believe they are entitled to safe spaces.

most people calling themselves "antis" as described in the article, like the individual known as "A", feel that all safe spaces must be their safe spaces. it must be safe for them to engage with fandom in all respects. so when they see the signs telling them to be wary of things that might upset them in certain corners of their fandom, they become upset that their feelings are not being catered to by part of the fandom that resides there even though these people would not interact with them in the first place and should not be forced to self-censor themselves for the benefit of people who are not supposed to be there.

like when somebody jaywalks on a busy street and gets mad when a car almost hits them because "pedestrians have the right of way." this is only true at the designated crosswalks and intersections.

but the jaywalker is not ignorant of the existence of the crosswalk, of the existence of cars, of the yellow weight-sensor on the edge of the sidewalk, of the cameras watching the intersection, of the button on the pole, of the flashing light system controlling the flow of traffic, of the loud sound that will play when someone is crossing the street at the crosswalk. they know these things exist. and that these systems are there in the first place to protect them.

they don't care. if it's safe to cross at one part of the road, it should be possible to cross anywhere safely. the people driving the 6-ton metal-cage-full-oil-and-explosions machines are the ones guilty of putting their rolling death carriages anywhere near "the feelings yakuza's" body, in their mind.

"antis" do not take responsibility for putting themselves in uncomfortable and/or dangerous situations. they choose to enter blogs labelled with disturbing content, are disturbed, and being the emotionally immature children they are, blame the blogger for putting their creation "where anybody could see it." because the "anti" is a child who needs to be protected, why weren't they protected from themselves???

in this digital age, parents are not teaching their children how to be safe online. when i was little and commercials would come on about "fun" online websites, they always included an audible disclaimer to "ask your parents before going online." even PBS kids, a site for kids that should be safe for kids by default, included this.

younger millenials and gen z do not get these disclaimers in the content they consume. not in the ads they get, not in the ebooks/fanfics they read, not in the social media they beem straight into their brains from the moment they wake.

the internet is awide open field all for them. they are de-sensitized to the dangers oversharing personal information can get you in, they don't understand that it is their own responsibility to safeguard themselves and their own spaces because it is not truly possible for anyone else to do it for them.

some people do unintentionally stumble into gross and/or nsfw fandom content, but rather than simply retreat to more familiar places make it their mission to condemn fandom participants who don't participate in fandom like they do. this is the rot caused by purist cancel culture. the idea that you cannot morally engage with problematic things because it means you condone those things in real life, when any sensible person would know that is not true.

i joined fandom when "don't like don't read" was the wisdom. i even think of myself as an "anti". even after reading the article.

i don't want to engage with problematic content; incest ships/abusive relationships/pedophilia/ageplay/etc. i think these are reasonable things to find disgusting and remove from my own space. but i do not attack people who make these things. there is nothing i can do to stop them from creating what they want no matter how much it may disgust and distress me.

i can only curate my own blog/social media to be as safe for me as i deem appropriate. i am an adult. it is on me to make judgements and act on them. when something i hate shows up on my dash/timeline/board i block that person without a word and move on. i block new terms all the time to avoid stumbling into what i consider gross content online. i report instances of harm to real people the few times i've seen it and move on. i don't harass people. i don't go into artist DMs and yell at them about how my feelings are hurt by their inconsideration of me, the internet stranger they do not know.

i am not a fandom mom. i am not the fandom police.

the modern "dead dove: do not eat" is not hard to interpret, and it is absolutely everywhere. it doesn't even mean that the content of the fic or art or blog or post is disgusting or degenerative. it just means "this is labelled correctly. the label on the tin is what is in this. if it says, 'cannibalism' in the tags, that means there will be human flesh consumed by human beings described/depicted in the content you are choosing to consume." its the "read at your own risk" of the current day.

but people self described as "antis" or "proship DNI" cannot keep their feelings to themselves. they are children who feel attacked. so they attack in turn and feel justified in doing so.

it's terrible that asian/SEA/japanese artists are being bullied by stubborn, ignorant americans/westerners. and i'm not sure how to go about changing the minds of antis.

and as an adult in fandom, it isn't my job to cater to children in my own adult spaces. i keep a relatively safe for work blog on tumblr, but that is mostly coincidental. i tag things that i think are nsfw or harmful or distressing to others like blood or flashing lights or animal death, for example, because i do not want to hurt people.

but this is ultimately my space. i do not want to see the character Ba//k//u//g//ou from My Hero Academia on my socials so I unfollow and block accounts that post content of him and his friends and related ships, especially what i deem to be an abusive relationship. i have all the related and adjacent tags filtered.

when i make my own posts discussing how i feel, i do not tag it in ways that will put it on the dashboards of stan accounts. this is not perfect, but it allows me to have my own opinion without targeting people for enjoying themselves online differently than me while engaging with like-minds.

i'm not going to tag a reblog of a nice cake as "food tw/cw pastry/trigger warning" and that will upset people who have food related trauma. this simply isn't the blog to follow for those people in that case and it is on them to unfollow/block me. (i am not invalidating anyone with food trauma with this statement. it is just an example.)

you have to do what is best for yourself. no hard feelings.

#online purity culture is a death trap #i hope this was a decent answer??#i got all rambly around the second paragraph #i am an anti-bakugou person #i am an anti regarding things i don't like but i don't do this campaign against others shit the young'uns out there are doin #i hate abusiive relationships and i love cake and this is my blog #asks #anon ask

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kyrodo · 6 months

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I feel My worst enemies now are thoughts of others that I can't control. Both on Choskey and Red's ends. They both experience depression, anxiety, and self-doubt in abundance and while it doesn't always show, when it does it is sudden and abrupt and generally what people consider a mood killer. Thoughts about whether or not things will work out. Etc etc. Which I do not share such thoughts because things are going really well up until the conversation comes up and I'm usually at a loss as to why.

And given Choskey is the third person in our relationship I would understand to some extent as to why, but without abnormal amounts of depression I would think most people would see how well things are going and not really feel the need for such thoughts until something goes wrong. I'm unfortunately most people. I would rather feel freely and be happy than get suddenly struck and wounded for no apparent reason and have to help them clean up and feel okay again.

I understand to some extent I presented similar conversations when I was engaging an older crush. And I understand why they suck so much even though, in that instance nothing was ever cleared up for me, so I had legit reasons to doubt things were going well. But I had a very impatient host who wouldn't give me the time of day any time I felt the need for some level of emotional security.

And I'm not going to be that person here. I've learned a lot from the experience but I also know what kind of example not to follow. I'm not just saying this out of spite, but their approach was simply irredeemably wrong. I understand second partners isn't the going standard, or even third partners given they were in a relationship as well, but they certainly weren't the material for it. I always think about how another person would react to the things I say. Even if I don't necessarily put them in good places sometimes. I know when to pull my punches. I know when to go all out. But most of all if someone isn't an enemy, I actually give a shit what they feel. If I turn enemy I don't do it at random, it is always in response to something I was put through or made to feel like when I got interrogaslighted early on. It makes a lot of sense their content is sociopathic in nature. Whatever they'd rebuke, I offer the same defense for my content, it isn't real.

I do not like being attacked. I do not like being lied to knowingly while being driven into a corner where I'm either forced to bring up that someone is actively lying or say something stupid. But I chose the stupid option because I was too nice for my own good. And because I didn't think it would lead to anywhere productive. Not that that was ever going to happen no matter what I did. Even stupider is that once I recognized I was going to be gaslighted at every slight inconvenience for them, I still clung to them. I still kept trying, given the reality that either I had to give up and deal with the pain of my feelings or try to make them fruitful. And I was not in the mental state back then to choose the more sensible option. I kept trying. Because the very person inflicting me with immense pain was also my only painkiller. Like scratching at an itch that has already turned into an open wound. I was driven to the end of my wits already before I developed those feelings. I was ready to kill off my entire digital identity, I was formulating plans for my own permanent demise. And that much was made clear as expressions of pain whenever things didn't go well between us. I deleted pieces of myself one by one throughout our encounter.

But I recognize many things didn't line up very well. Our respective relationships. Distance. The fact that we'd never met. Or that my feelings likely developed out of depression and loneliness. Our ages. Our content. I am not a horror fan. As much as I entertained the possibility of giving it a serious try, I'm not sure if it is a taste I would have reasonably been able to acquire. I do not have a taste for the grotesque. I can appreciate things that entertain the theme of horror, especially given my preferred colors, but not necessarily things that are legitimately scary. Because I don't like the feeling of adrenaline. And I don't like things that are disturbing. I'll favorite pictures (when I'm not depressed) where a furry is licking blood off their fingers and honestly I still would, because it is vengeful, interesting, exciting, dramatic, but that is not the point of core horror. It is not about expressing emotions or anger or telling a story, it's about jump scares and adrenaline, suspense, anticipation.

Bad things tend to happen whenever I do something because I anticipated something. Trauma or no trauma, that has always been my truth. Which is why I require someone who is actually capable of sympathy and empathy. Who would understand this side of me and work with it rather than act like a dick. Like Red. Like Choskey. I really hate it when I have to spell out everything.

It is an environmental thing as well. Choskey had the benefit of hearing my voice. My Previous crush only saw text and subtexts in whatever manner I expressed it. And in the latter situation, it is very difficult to trust someone you've never met. Distrust was an ongoing failing of ours back in 2020. Distrust was all we had. And I was the only one willing to give trust a shot. Unfortunately it's like having a battery with only one end connected. It doesn't work that way.

Granted I shouldn't have been using a rando like a therapist. I had gone over everything with Red about my spat with Kay, but anything that hits me that strongly I often have to post even if it's not necessarily a great idea. I couldn't let it go. I did not have a focus group so I tried to find one through you. I did not go get a therapist when Red suggested it because it was often during a time when I felt fine. My spiral was an on and off kind of thing. If I felt depressed 100% of the time I would have been more likely to do it. My problem was whenever I felt like I finally got it all out of my system, I was back at it the next hour. So even though I should have it was hard to justify it. Not to mention it takes a lot of effort to actually figure out how to get one and money was tight. I was constantly covering for Red every month for rent and food and Red also requested that I try to keep 3k in my account for emergencies. I took that order to heart.

So I did the next best thing, outside of my friend group because Red already heard everything and going over it again felt pointless, and someone who hasn't met me I could go over my life, who I am and validate my experiences and existence by them listening to it. And in turn that would help me get passed the social conflict that bruised my ego harder than it should have. I was worried about what Kay thought of me after our argument on Twitter, and felt she had the wrong idea of me, and I could not shake that off. Omi also removed me from one of her telegram groups and I took that very personally and felt like I was officially abandoned by my friends. Yet behind my back Red was still keeping in contact.

So I was not originally looking for a second boyfriend, I was looking for a friend group to replace them. And I would have been fine honestly if that was all I got out of our encounter, but my feelings were not making it easy to act maturely around you. My argument with Kay started to be a talking point rather than something I actually cared about anymore. I wanted to surrender myself to the new feeling I developed and for you to give it meaning. The feeling was strong enough to block out my original problem. To keep me from caring about it anymore. I pretended to still care about it but instead I wanted to see how things would go between us. Because I had never been that close to the possibility of someone other than Red being in our relationship. I was excited, it gave me someone who cares about what I say, I was scared, I was hopeful, I was wishful. It gave me someone to subtext in all these idiotic ways, and I felt like it was all I had for company when Red was busy or we weren't doing anything together, or the only person I wanted to see my vents that I couldn't stop posting. And it was the only possibility at the time I would find another furry group. I didn't have vrchat, and I didn't have the courage to use my voice in a place like vrchat anyway.

And I wanted people to play with. Kitsunary is good at times but she gets stressed quickly and her frustration can be stressful or contagious. Red is either bad or not fun to play with for multiple reasons. He's also more busy than other people usually are, and not really that interested in gaming. And that was all I really had at the time. El teniente and Maximus have their own problems, and Marcus didn't like to play with us that often.

And for things like League or Overwatch, I didn't have a lot of options. The possibility of a new love interest or a new friend was much more appealing than any of my other options. So that is where I spent most of my time and focus. I was not necessarily ready or fully onboard with the idea of going poly yet but I felt like it would have been nice. I felt like it would cover Red's weaknesses when it comes to recreational time. And I still feel that way, which is why I have Choskey now.

I know this means Red probably isn't my fabled "one and only" but we have a lot of history, we usually get along well and there are things he provides that no one else would be able to replace, like the whuffy antics. So I don't want to replace him either. And that's why I'm trying to make this work. And that's what I always wanted really.

But you idiots were quick to attack every perceived flaw or ready to make up your own to trigger me as much as possible and nobody has ever treated me like that before. I was a guinea pig for memes and malicious subtext. And at the time I almost couldn't believe anyone would treat people like that. Your reactions and responses never really lined up or made sense but you still made it clear they were attempts at a response. And I didn't understand what you were trying to do or why.

I'm used to Omi's group of friends. They have their own way of doing things when it comes to dealing with drama, and tact, prudence, and sensible communication are high priorities there. But instead of dragging me into a group chat like I expected to settle things you did just about everything else. And I guess I was too used to people being more responsible than I am, older than I am, or having Red babysit me basically that when that stopped being true I wasn't prepared for it. I don't know what kind of therapy I expected to find among memelords, hackers, and trolls. But I clearly expected too much.

Time has been extremely kind to me. And if you or anybody who was onboard with your harassment group cares to see what I write, if you were waiting and hoping time would eventually validate the actions used against me, I'm sorry to disappoint you. Your subtext doesn't hide shit anymore. You brought out every cheap and underhanded tactic in the book and you still couldn't shut me up. Time reveals all things, and even with the most explosive ways I expressed myself what I did has a shelf life. What I did, my intents, my reasons thereof are clear, straightforward and easy to understand. You're a complete mess and everybody got to see that firsthand. You wanted some evil mastermind, you wanted a hater, you wanted any kind of prejudice to attack me for and you didn't find shit. And I'll forever be dancing on your grave for how over the top and stupid the extents you went that would have been handled properly by mature adults. In my position, how do you let people live that down? That is more than just an "oops my bad" moment, that is a deliberate act of a complete asshole who doesn't think before they harm people. Who doesn't even need a good reason to harm people. And you openly admitted that via subtext too and that is mind boggling, and eye opening. Good luck wiping that from memory. Context is everything, and you have it now. You have all the context you could possibly get now, especially after watching my day to day, and you should very much feel ashamed of yourselves. You committed an act of inhumane cruelty without having or needing a good reason to and you get to fucking live with it while I get to laugh in your face.

You revealed who I am expecting so much to harm me for and you found a dragon and a wolf as advertised. You revealed who you really are in the process too. That is the first time in my life somebody committed an act of extreme hatred towards me and ended up biting themselves in the ass in the process. And you did it as a group so everybody knows and you can't do shit about it. Everyone knows who you really are and if I were them that is the crowning moment I would have lost any level of respect for you. And who knows, maybe they did. I am immortalized as a permanent stain on your memories, the dragon's wolf pet who had a breakdown, further aggravated by you in ways that no normal idiot on the Internet would have done. There is no dignity in a life like yours. There is not a single reason I would like to have been on the other side of this other than not be the one who gets hurt.

My only glimpse of an aftermath is my imagination. But I hope you found a way to learn from it and move on. And if you didn't I'm even happier I didn't end up with you. It is incredible how thoroughly you lost my respect even without me being an unwitting advocate of your attack. And if that was someone else's suggestion in the moment, hope you're still talking. What could be a more bonding moment than trying to ruin someone's life together that probably doesn't deserve it? If they're still around after that mess then maybe you'd be perfect for each other. At least when I burn bridges I use words, I don't actively try to harm someone any other way. That's your mess. At least you know how to clean up. Cover stories are your specialty after all.

I know how infuriating just my words and art expressions can be on their own. And when it gets people to do things they normally would never see themselves doing I know I'm doing something right. I never have to cross a single line when people just do it for me so readily. And in the end all they manage to achieve is looking like a complete ass while I return to my regularly scheduled life unscathed. Because unknowingly or willingly, you failed to read between the lines. You failed to trust my words when you were the one covering yours. And I don't know how you made such a stupid mistake but here we fucking go. Welcome to the after life, and what do we have to show for it? I met someone better in every possible aspect and I get to be with him AND Red. It turns out I'm not crazy, I'm capable of reason, that I always learn from my mistakes, and who would have thunk. I guess we all got what we deserved one way or another. I always get the last laugh because I was dealing with a joke.

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hamlets-ak · 1 year

Text

i write for:

timothée chalamet & the characters he plays + regulus.

REQUEST RULES

༄ pronouns my stories are for fem!reader (or gn!reader only if it’s specified or else i’ll assume fem.)

༄ y/n’s description the reader is always aged up to 18+ as are all the characters since i am not comfortable writing for minors. other than that, i try to keep things as neutral as possible so y/n will not have any specific appearance features.

༄ about smut i do write smut but it will always be romantic dynamic (whether the relationship is established or not) and CONSENSUAL. my smut stories are not super explicit or hardcore. i do not include fetishes or anything that involves the slightest hint of abuse or degradation. also, i need to mention again that the reader is NEVER a minor and all the characters are aged up to 18+ *YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. **i know it’s something out of my control, but i’d really appreciate it & it’d make me a lot more comfortable if minors didn’t interact with my smut stories.

༄ what i will not write anything nonconsensual abuse, degradation mental illnesses, self-harm age gap incest

༄ how to request through the askbox & dms. if it makes you more comfortable, you can always choose to remain anonymous. please add a plotline to your request, it doesn’t have to be super detailed, just something for me to start off on. if you don’t have a plotline, dialogue prompts are fine too. i just need something to understand the atmosphere of the story and know where you want me to go with it.

do remember that i have every right to reject a certain request if it discomforts me, violates the rules or simply doesn’t interest me at the moment.

please, if you are not going to engage with the fic (comment or reblog), do not send me a request. i spend time on writing and it’s absolutely disheartening when people don’t leave feedback.

also, english is not my first language.

#request rules #hamlets-ak

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vintageswitcheroo · 2 years

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Even with little engagement and no clue what tags to use at this point, yesterday’s post felt SO good. It felt like in the process of writing it I articulated some things about myself I’ve had a hard time putting into words for a while. I created a kind of proto-manifesto of what I want to focus on here, a part of my life I want to nurture.

So where to now?

As I write this, darlings, I have just finished a cup of tea and am listening to the British Home Front Radio broadcast on TuneIn, a broadcast provided by a UK radio station. I like to expand my musical horizons beyond what I usually hear on my Spotify playlists. The only thing is they don’t tell you the names and artists…

But I digress. I dithered for a while about what topic to choose for this post. It actually took me a good day to come up with something. I’ve kind of been drawing a blank about subjects, so I guess I thought I’d talk about hobbies I have and how they relate to my vintage obsession.

Right now my two most engaged-in hobbies are knitting and baking. I love them both, and each have their challenges and ways they relate to my love of the past.

I love, love, love to bake for my wife and others, and I love to make a nice, timeless, old-fashioned treat. I recently made malt loaf, which I originally saw as a technical challenge on the Great British Bake-Off and thought sounded interesting. It turns out, it’s absolutely delicious, at least to us. Full of the dark sugar flavors of muscovado sugar and black treacle, with malt extract and dried fruit added, it’s a beautifully unique piece of quick bread that tastes even better after a couple of days wrapped in parchment.

It’s also very much an “old people” recipe, with only the upper-middle-aged bakers on the episode having the slightest clue what it was in the first place. It dates back to the late 1889s as a Scottish packaged food, but recipes eventually popped up.

I also love classic shortbread, especially in jam thumbprint form, and my wife also loves those complicated marshmallow teacakes, but I’ll bake just about anything. I’m really interested in doing more WWII baking, using recipes developed to make the most of what was available during rationing. I also have a strong urge to bake a classic battenburg cake. I just love them. So colorful!

I just ordered a Canadian ration recipe book, and I’m excited to see what’s in it, both for baking and cooking. I’ve discovered that many rationing recipes are delicious in their simplicity! They often leave room for experimenting with whatever herbs and seasonings you can get your hands on; thyme is a favorite around here. I wish I cooked more, and I’m trying to get in the habit by making sure I have lots of cool recipes to try out, at least one new and exciting one a week seems to be a good bet.

I’ve also been knitting! I’ve been doing double knit colorwork on a fandom-related scarf. It’s challenging, but it’s really fun, and the yarn and the double-fabric nature of the finished part makes it nice and squishy and cozy. I plan to make a stuffed pigeon as a sort of mascot for our living history group soon, make him a little garrison cap and mail bag, and name him Fred after Fred Astaire, who always played the mailman in those Rankin-Bass holiday specials.

I can sew. When I put my mind to it, I’m actually quite good at it. The trouble is I find all the little marking and pressing to be SO tedious. But I really need to sew. I’m just outside the size range of a lot of vintage reproduction brands, especially brands that make authentic 1940s wear, so I simply must get into the habit of sewing so I can have an everyday, and event-focused, wardrobe.

I’m also just a plain ole researcher. Not by trade or even by training, though I did study humanities. I just enjoy research. I love learning about things I’m interested in. I have a gift for finding obscure answers with verifiable sources. I’m one of those tropey girls who will spend hours in the library. I want to know everything about domestic life during WWII and the postwar period, frankly, and nothing can stand in my way when I’m in a researching mood.

The last hobby I’ll talk about here is writing. Ever since third grade, when our teacher had us keep a journal she would give us prompts for, I have loved to tell stories via writing. My first ever novel attempt was the story of two resistance fighters in wartime Germany escaping to Sweden, way back in 4th grade! I never finished it, which has always bugged my grandmother. She really liked the plot!

I always have too many ideas to finish them all, and ADHD brain frequently gets distracted during the planning phase and jumps ship to another one. I have a Dieselpunk book I wrote that takes place on a planet inspired by the world during WWI and WWII, one in a series that needs finishing. Right now I’m working on planning the first book of a cozy mystery series about a couple who goes to vintage events in the present day, because cozy mysteries are a nice, simple, fun brain break between more serious writing.

So those are my main hobbies, the ones I go back and forth between most often, and how I engage in them in a vintage context.

Next time I post, I plan to be a little…saucier…as it were. ;)

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years

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The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student.

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much.

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me.

That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

Spencer is horribly frustrated.

A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

And play she has.

From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

“Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

“Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

“Spencer, please.”

Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

“Yes, my love?”

Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

“I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

“Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

“I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

“You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

“Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

“Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

“You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

“That’s why.”

Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

“I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

“Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

“You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

“Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

“Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

“Jump.”

It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

“Spencer!”

Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

“You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

“I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

She silences those fears with a kiss.

“Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

“Yeah?” he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

“Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

“I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

“Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

“Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

“Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

“It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

“As they should. That was sensational.”

Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

“What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

“I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

“I have a few ideas.”

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#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #professor!spencer #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler fanfic #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #smut #professor!reid

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glazelilyy · 3 years

Note

Greetings, I hope this message find you well mon cœur. Dainslief anon here, my sincere gratitude for making me feel welcome here 🥰 This is my first request which I hope you may consider, which would be for the 1k event (congratulations by the way and may you accept this bouquet 💐). An invitation letter + Dainslief + princess reader & knight Dainslief. For context you can either choose to do one whereby he invites the reader to run away with him or invites her after a ball for a dance in the garden. Thank you for reading this message and that the rest of your day goes well! **looking forward in hopes you'll do this request and can't wait to see how your writing brings this to magic

-Dain anon

𝟏𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 - 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing - dainsleif x female reader

prompt - invitation letter

warning - reader is addressed as princess, eloping

a/n - m-mon cœur- /)\\\\\(\ AAA IM SO GLAD I REMEMBER THE FRENCH I LEARNED AGES AGO CAUSE HOLY FRICK GNJFKGDF dain nonnie you're very sweet ty for sending me this awesome req! i decided that the eloping thing would be really cool to format into a letter (also added that the reader is engaged to someone else for cool tension hehe) :D i hope you enjoyed this cause i really liked writing it!

to my dearest princess (y/n),

the time draws nearer for you to be handed off to another, and i must admit that my heart aches at the very thought. i know you yearn for me just as much, my love, but the odds of fate push us apart and i have yet to be able to freely hold you in my arms and declare my love for you to the world.

i cannot say that i am willing to only be your loyal knight anymore, as my heart aches to be called something more. regardless of your decision, my princess, i shall forever humbly remain your loyal knight and guard you and your prospecting lover with my life.

however, i believe that you feel the same as i do. perhaps it is simply wishful thinking, but i have felt how your heart flutters in my embraces and the twitch of your nose when your lips are pressed against mine. i know it is not your suitor that holds your heart, but i.

by the time you receive this letter, i will have procured two horses and packed my belongings. i wish to take you far from this place, where i am free to love you not as your knight but as your lover, and you no longer have to bear the weight of a title too heavy for your shoulders. with all that i am, i ask that you come with me, far, far away from this land. we shall get a small house, for just the two of us.

and there, i hope to make you my bride.

you will find me at the back gates. if you do not come by midnight, i shall know your answer, rest assured, my lady.

until the stars die and the planets come crashing down, i shall love you with all my heart.

yours faithfully,

dainsleif

#1k event. a letter to you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif imagines #genshin impact imagines

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sourholland · 4 years

Text

A Royal Convenience || Tom Holland

| Series Masterlist |

Part Two

AN → You might all be wondering where I’ve been, I honestly just needed a bit of a break for my mental health! I’m sorry, I’ve missed taking to you all <3

Summary → When an alliance is made between England and France, you are sent away to marry the crown prince and heir to the British throne. Except both you and Prince Thomas despise each other at all odds, subjected to the hand of the monarchy and unable to stand each other.

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → None

Word Count → 2.0k

“Could one of you run off and find out if my son is planning on gracing us all with his attendance.” Nicola’s voice was assertive, dripping with irritation at the Prince’s tardiness.

A man holding a closed box with an assortment of rings stood off to the side of the drawing-room. He was stiff, awkward even, in the presence of not only the Queen, but the Princess and future Queen of England. His eyes were trained on the freshly polished floors, clutching the velvet.

Behind you stood your newly introduced ladies in waiting, there were three: Lady Eloise, Lady Charlotte, and Lady Andrea. They were very young, pretty, and had very clearly come from aristocratic backgrounds. Each of them held a title, meaning they’d soon enough marry. You’d planned on meeting them for tea, but Queen Nicola figured it would be better to bring them in before you chose an engagement ring.

“Apologies, mum,” Tom came through the double doors, his hair skewed and his shirt disheveled. He bowed, taking a spot beside his mother and averting his eyes from you.

“Thomas, wonderful of you to join us,” she drawled. “Do begin, sir,” she said, motioning towards the man.

He opened the box a bit shakily, dozens of diamonds gleaming. They ranged from color to carrots of gold, each holding a different and more interesting background. You couldn’t help but to reach out and pick up one with a deep sapphire.

“That was once worn by the late Queen Elizabeth l,” he droned on, continuing to tell you about the long history of where the ring had come from and what it signified.

“What do you think, Thomas,” Nicola asked. She was practically beaming at each ring you slid onto your finger. Like no matter which one you chose, none would be the wrong choice.

“It is not I that will have to wear the dreadful thing,” he replied shortly. “Therefore, I should not be the person deciding which one she chooses, though I wish you’d quicken the pace a bit.”

“Since you’ve made it clear that you have no intention on weighing in on the decision, I ask you kindly, Prince Tom, to please refrain from commenting,” you quipped. He took a step back irritably, pulling at the collar of his undershirt.

You reached into the box once more, pulling out a large European cut diamond ring. The several diamonds displayed at the golden band left you lifting your hand, staring at your ring finger absentmindedly. It was classic, yet had too many diamonds to be considered simple. A royal staple, much like the tiara you’d eventually choose to wear on your wedding day.

“This one,” you said. “This is the one.”

The Queen drifted towards you, biting back excitement as she assessed the ring. It was clearly too large and would need to be sized, yet still had the same effect. She held it up as you had done, clutching your hand and motioning towards your ladies to come and look.

“That’s absolutely darling,” Charlotte mused.

“It’s stunning,” Andrea agreed.

The Prince soon enough took his leave, slipping out of the room before Nicola could notice his absence. She looked disappointed when she looked over and was met with an empty space where he’d just stood.

“He’ll come around soon enough,” she said, this was less reassuring to you and seemed more comforting for herself.

“Do tell me about yourself, Andrea,” you murmured on, arm in arm as you both perused the large gardens.

“Well there’s not much to know, miss,” she replied swiftly.

“Please, I wish you’d call me Y/N in private company,” you laughed a bit. “I’ve never had much of a thing for titles.”

“Her Majesty would simply chastise me.”

There were blooming flowers and the grass was slowly becoming more and more green. The air was a bit brisk, the cloak draped along your shoulders thinner than you’d like. The soft breeze felt nice, though. Andrea was simple looking, pulled back brown hair and a heart-shaped face. She explained that she was one of three girls, the third daughter of an earl.

“I must admit, I do wish we’d have met under different circumstances,” you mused, plucking a lily from the shrubs.

“I’m not sure what you mean, miss,” she looked over at you a bit sideways.

“I just mean—well under the circumstance that I wasn’t being pawned off on the Prince.”

You fumbled at your skirts for a moment, pressing at the fabrics of your afternoon dress. It was ivory, beautiful, really. Though, much different from anything you’d have worn in France.

“I’m sure His Royal Highness will be as pleased as everyone else once you are both wed.”

“That’s hard to believe,” you chuckled. “He has hardly said a word to me since I arrived in London.”

She looked nervous, like she was afraid to say the wrong thing. Her cheeks flushed lightly, the glint in her eyes a bit brighter. Andrea just looked over to you and gave a soft smile, as if to say everything would be alright.

“Do you think that Prince Thomas is handsome?” You asked, curious of her opinion. You watched her cheeks redden, an awkward laugh escaping her lips.

“That is not for me to judge, miss,” she answered almost immediately.

“No—but, I just want your opinion, do you think he is handsome?” You asked once again.

She hesitated for a moment, “yes, I think the Prince is certainly very handsome.”

You thought for a moment, of his brown hair that had been swept back and so carelessly skewed about earlier in the morning. The way his freckles scattered lightly across his nose like a constellation, you’d only known this from when he’d pulled you in so closely the night before. He wore his signet ring proudly, this amongst what looked like another ring with a crest on it.

“Yes, I suppose he is quite handsome. Though, if I’ve learned anything, it is that looks count for almost nothing when you’re forced to spend everyday with a person.”

The quiet clattering of silverware sounded throughout the large room, beside you sat Prince Tom. Down the table were the two older princes, assuming the youngest, Prince Patrick, was still too young. At the head of the table was King Dominic, at his right was Queen Nicola. Occupying the rest of the table was an assortment of dukes and duchesses, earls and ladies.

It had been too late to join everyone for dinner the night before, so tonight was the first time you’d been in everyone’s company. The room was large, grand even, gold trim and deep royal red walls filled with paintings dating back centuries. Candles burned while you ate, attempting to steal a glance at the Prince while he spoke with his brother Harry.

It had taken you weeks studying the British monarchy to completely grasp their political and traditional protocol. You had to learn who to curtsy to and who not to, and then in what order, how to determine the sovereign and whether or not to address someone with a title or not to.

“Tell us, Y/N, how are you finding England?” The Queen chimed, staring at you from her seat across the table.

“Well, ma’am—I haven’t seen much of it, I do hope to see more. It is far different from France, though.”

A quiet murmur spread across the table, “I’ve always found the French quite curious,” a duchess, whom you could not recall the name of, said lowly.

“Curiously dreadful,” Tom laughed to himself in a whisper you were sure only you could hear.

“I’m sorry?” You turned towards him, the sound of your cutlery against the plate louder than you’d liked. “I thought you said something, sir.”

The King looked up at you, the scornful way in which you looked at Tom, seething at his teasing words. You felt the heat in your face spread when you noticed an almost surprised look from a majority of the long and stretching table.

The rest of dinner you kept quiet, avoiding the looks from the prince at your side. He seemed quite bothered, you put your head down and braced yourself once the King stood. Once the King finished his meal, everyone else was finished as well. He stood soundly, the paleness of his skin off-putting, the deep purple crescents underneath his eyes prominent in the candlelight.

You stood with everyone else, retiring to your chambers in a fleeting moment once it was appropriate to get away. The long, narrow halls were ages older than you, the artwork clearly showing that. You recognized past monarchs, the kings and queens of the years earlier. The twists and turns reminded you of a labyrinth, easy to get lost in.

Once you reached the double doors to your chambers, you pulled at them quickly, shutting them behind you soundly and sinking against the wall. The room was still filled with burning candles, the servant at your vanity looking at you curiously.

She curtsied quickly, motioning you off of the floor in a maternal way. You said nothing, letting her help you slip out of the evening gown and undo the tight lacing of your corset. You breathed deeply as she slipped the white nightgown over your head and took down the silver pins from your hair.

“Are you alright, miss?” She asked, the look on her face a bit concerned.

“Yes, just tired,” you excused. “I can put myself to sleep, thank you.”

“Are you sure, miss? I really do not mind,” she trailed off as you waved her away laughing stiffly.

“I am sure, thank you, Anne.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, brushing through your hair as you sat. Anne had long left, the doors shut tightly and the guards posted at them for the night, however, you turned quickly at the sound of them creeping open.

“How thick in the head must you be?”

Prince Thomas.

“You should not be in here,” you warned. “It’s bad enough to be caught alone in the daytime without a chaperone, but at night—in my bedroom!” Your tone was sharp, your arms wrapping around yourself. His eyes scanned your bare ankles, the curve of your legs underneath the thin material.

“You need not be concerned about your virtue, not after what you decided to pull at dinner tonight, before mother and father! I mean seriously, it’s like you enjoy humiliating yourself in front of the whole family!”

His cheeks were flushed in anger, his eyes fixed on you. You hair was undone, your eyes stuck on him. The silence was deafening, the space between the both of you closing when you stood up and marched over to him.

“I have been here a day. A day! And you cannot allow me the luxury of my own chambers, parading in here like you were not the one who provoked me!” You rammed a finger into his chest, gaze not faltering as you looked up at him.

“I told mother, I told father. You are nothing but a child, a little girl with no clue what she’s getting herself into,” you flinched at his voice.

“I will be your wife—”

“You will be the Queen of England!” He shouted, “the way you acted tonight was not that of a queen, but an eighteen year old girl in way over her head.”

He grabbed the hand that had jabbed into his chest, skewing it to the side. “Do not forget yourself, Y/N. I can promise you this, if you cannot at least act like you have any idea what you’re doing, this engagement is off. I will not tarnish the name of my country, nor title or reputation for a French princess that I had no desire to wed in the first place.”

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