#i'm sad and it sucks.

[loyalhorror]

[stares at the ceiling] am i actually polyamorous or am i just so convinced that i have nothing to really offer anyone and couldn't possibly keep them by myself so it's safer for me to just "fill a niche" in an existing relationship and/or let people use me for sex

[deoidesign]

important distinction.

Testing a few different things with this one

[six-white-venus]

the mundanity of my grief disgusts me.

i go to class late every day and no one knows i'm rotting inside. the sun burns my skin and all i do is sigh because i forgot to bring money for a cab. a scream is forever stuck in my throat; stuck and never let out because that would be considered a public nuisance. my mom asks me what i want and what i want is a break but what I tell her is "anything but dosa" because that's the answer she wants to hear. your emotions are valid but they must be kept under tight wraps from 9am-5pm, 'cause it's important you stay sane during work hours. i sit cross-legged in my ratty sweatpants and write poetry and the hypocrisy of it sickens me to no end because ultimately i don't care as much as i should about the things i write. no, all i can think of is that i need to stop and start studying plant physiology. you can write odes and ballads about decay and call autumn the season of fallen angels but you still won't spare a glance at the pile of dried leaves on the side of the road because you can't be late to work.

you're sad but it's not hip or cool or pretty or even significant. i keep looking at the clock when i break down because I can't waste more than 30 minutes on this, that's plenty of time to wrap up all my drama and prepare for tomorrow's paper presentation. no one gives a fuck about your day but they should. it should be on the goddamn news, broadcasted on every channel because it's your day. a whole day. a day of your life, your world, your everything. no one cares but they should. but does it really matter, being on the news? no one watches the news anyway. oh look, you're out of groceries. you miss your mom's cooking. you seem to have a permanent headache these days and think of calling your uncle because he's a doctor. was. was a doctor. he's dead now. right. you're still out of groceries. wake, sleep, rinse, repeat.

the mundanity of my grief disgusts me. can someone burn down this world? i'd do it myself, but i have an exam this thursday.

[54625]

people can keep coming up with angsty headcanons about why qPac passes out (crashes) so much- like he's got low blood pressure from not eating properly or he's exhausted from not sleeping properly- and I accept that

but to me he's just that one character in a kids movie that keeps getting injured as a gag. like he's just constantly tripping over roots and whacking his head off the ground, birds just constantly seem to drop rocks specifically on his head, people just keep inexplicably slamming doors into his face without realising it. qPac is just such a cartoon character to me I'm sorry

[nuge]

when you can't hide your feelings to dumb media questions

leon draisaitl | POST-RAW | 10.21.2023

[wildechildwrites]

Lucky Charms

Looney Tunes Part Two

Konig/Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

No use of Y/N

Summary: You have some more encounters with König, the mysterious man who lives in your apartment building.

A/N: König being unintentionally terrifying is so funny. He’s shy and he’s a giant murderer for hire, excuse him for constantly throwing off the vibe. Let me know if you want to be tagged in part three!

AO3 Link: Looney Tunes

You've got bags of groceries hanging from your arms, pinching at your skin, precariously balanced, a white knuckle grip on the laundry detergent that's determined to slip through your fingers before you reach your apartment. The man steps on the elevator with you, and you can feel your face heating up as he looks at you.

You haven't seen him since the night he'd kissed you, and you wondered if he thought of you everytime he rode the elevator. You certainly thought of him.

He makes no effort to disguise his staring, looking down at you with a flat expression, taking in your overflowing arms.

"I hate making more than one trip to my car," you say, answering the question he didn’t ask, shrugging as much as you can with your arms full. You swear you see his eyebrow twitch.

Amusement? Irritation? It's impossible to read him. Instead, you drop your gaze, feeling his eyes still on you.

"My name is König." He says abruptly. Your eyes jump back up to his face, and it's his turn to look away as you grin, introducing yourself.

When you go to get off the elevator, he plucks the detergent out of your hand, gesturing silently for some of the bags you carry. He follows you to your apartment soundlessly, placing the bags down outside of your door. You throw your 'thank you' at his retreating form, and he doesn't acknowledge it.

Later, when you're putting away your groceries, you say his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue.

One of the lights in the parking garage is flickering again, and you sigh in annoyance as you look up at it. The apartment complex took months to fix the last broken bulb, so you’re unenthusiastic about the prospects of a quick repair. It puts you on edge, affecting the visibility and giving the garage an eerie feeling.

“It’s just like a horror movie,” you mumble to yourself, attempting to break the tension you feel as you head towards the exit. It’s late, your workday running longer than it should’ve, and you can’t help the itch of anxiety crawling up your spine.

You pass an unfamiliar man, standing still in between some of the cars. His eyes are on you, and you grip your keys tighter in your hand, speeding up. You hazard a glance over your shoulder and find he's disappeared, and your eyes search the parking lot behind you.

Distracted as you are, unfocused on where you're going, you slam straight into a solid wall of a person. You let out a shriek, head whipping back around and nearly fall backwards as you attempt to scramble away. Two solid hands firmly grip your shoulders, preventing you from tripping. König is standing in front of you, and you sag against his hold in relief.

“You scared me!” you exclaim, a hand going up reflexively to your chest.

“You should be more cautious, häschen,” König responds, and you swear there’s the faintest trace of a smile on his face, the subtle quirk of scarred lips. “Most people look where they are walking to, not where they are walking from.”

You let out a sigh and roll your eyes with a smile, the anxiety seeping out of your body. “The stupid flickering light really freaked me out,” you say, gesturing at the ceiling. “And then there was a man staring at me, but he disappeared.” König nods thoughtfully. His hands are still on your shoulders, and there’s a beat as you both stare at each other.

König clears his throat. “I will speak to the complex maintenance about repairing the light. As for your mystery friend–” König pulls back and slides one finger across his throat. You laugh at the joke, even though he’s not smiling.

König insists on walking you back to your apartment despite your objections, and although you know you were just being silly, you’re touched by the gesture.

“Thank you, König,” you say, lingering in the doorway, and something in his eyes seems to sharpen when you say his name.

You're eating cereal on your couch, watching cartoons when you should be sleeping. It's a childish habit, but after a long day, you're feeling sentimental and too burnt out to process anything with substance. Scrolling through your phone, half paying attention, you almost miss the soft knock on your front door.

König is standing outside, his face obscured by something that looks like an executioner's hood. The gear he's wearing makes him seem even more massive, a mountain of a man standing in front of you.

"May I come in?" He asks, his accented voice low, and you're so caught off guard by the request that your jaw drops.

König stares at you and you stare back, contemplating the matter.

You probably shouldn't let him in, this hulking monster in a mask. You don't even know him really, only interacting a couple of times. He's kissed you, and it was a knee buckling, eye rolling kiss, but does that necessarily grant him access to your apartment?

Your logistical side loses when he lets out a sigh, a huff of air that borders on a whine. You step aside, waving him to the couch as you go to the kitchen to grab another bowl of cereal for him. You want to know why he's here unannounced, but you're unwilling to disturb the delicate balance between the two of you, so you say nothing. He pulls off the mask, eyes on the TV.

“Looney Tunes?” he asks, his voice amused. Daffy Duck lets out a shriek in the silence between you two, and you snort.

“Call it a guilty pleasure,” you reply. König’s eyebrow twitches. You offer him the bowl, and his large fingers brush against yours, shockingly warm and rough. His eyes seem to glint at the contact, an almost avian intensity that makes your skin flush.

You sit down a measured distance away from him, and go back to eating your cereal, attempting to display a level of casual that you do not feel. König seems unaffected, sprawled on your couch, crunching away like he does this every night. He's got his boots on still, tacky with a dark liquid you think could be blood.

"Uh… not that I don't appreciate the company…" you begin after a beat of silence, turning to face him. It's the first time you've seen him really smile, and a part of you is unsure if you like it, the almost predatory glint of teeth.

"I just wanted to see if you'd invite me in." He responds to your unspoken question, his voice rumbling deep from his chest, and there's a sharp edge to his words that make the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

There's a beat, and your expression must tip him off to your discomfort because his eyes widen.

"I didn't mean– I am sorry I misspoke– sometimes my translations are–" he's stammering, and you instantly relax, feeling guilty for your involuntary reaction.

"No! No it's okay I was just… surprised. I'm glad for the company" You say in a rush, your voice unnaturally high. "You're always welcome to come over."

He smiles again, softer than before. His eyes haven't quite lost the cutting focus, but you smile back, relaxing a little as he takes another bite of cereal. You fall back into companionable silence.

It's late, and you're starting to fade, eyes drooping, curled up into yourself. König hasn't moved from his post on the end of your couch, his empty bowl still cupped in one hand, and you drowsily wonder if it's a military habit, the way he sits with perfect stillness. You stifle a yawn, and he glances over at you without moving his head.

"It's getting late," he says quietly. You watch as he rises in one fluid motion, large strides leading him with a seemingly practiced familiarity to your kitchen. He places his dish in the sink and reaches for the soap. You sit up.

"It's alright, I'll wash the dishes tomorrow," you call out, wiping your eyes, and he nods. You stand as he heads towards the door, your legs slightly unsteady.

"Thank you for the cereal," he says quietly, a hand on the doorknob. You think there is a light dusting of pink around his ears, but it's too dark to really tell.

You smile at him. "You're welcome."

König pauses, turning towards you.

You idly wonder if he'll kiss you again. He looks down at you with an inscrutable expression, bringing a large hand slowly up to your face, the ghost of his fingertips skimming your jaw. You let out an involuntary gasp at the contact, your skin electrified, and he drops his hand.

He opens the door, and you notice his fingers are still curled, as if he's cupping the sensation of your skin against his, holding it in his palm.

"Good night little rabbit," König whispers, a silhouette in your doorway. "Catch you later."

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Taglist:

All for you @whos-fran my beloved (the first person to ever ask to be tagged)

If anyone else would like to be on the taglist for part three reply or reblog this post :)

[burnthatbridge]

— Paige Lewis, “The Terre Haute Planetarium Rejected My Proposal” from Space Struck {insp.}

[howdyboh]

a year later, redraw of the guys!!💥

[dootznbootz]

I don't think Greek Mythology retellings/adaptions/inspired/etc. are necessarily "evil"...but I DO think people REALLY need to understand that there's a huge difference between the actual mythology and certain media.

I feel like people have to basically do a "Fandom ___" to say the different versions. Like "PJO ___", "Hades game ___", "TSOA ___". For it to be understood that these depictions are DIFFERENT. I'm saying this as someone who grew up reading PJO and still has a soft spot for it. But as someone who really loves Greek Mythology as well, I sometimes get really SAD.

I'm going to use the comparison of Howl's Moving Castle with it's Book Vs. Movie. I enjoy both!!! But they are honestly very different. In the movie there is no "sister swap", Markle isn't a young teenager, Sophie doesn't throw weed killer at Howl, and many more moments. But I enjoy both because even though there are changes they still keep components that are ingrained into the characters!

In some Greek Myth retellings/adaptations/stories/etc., characters are...SO different from the source material. That's fine...Choose what you want with your story... But folks should know that the modern adaptations are NOT the source material!!!

It bothers me that a lot of these wonderful myths and stories are twisted up and seen so differently because of a modern version of them. You can have that character be "awful" or a certain way in your story. But I almost feel that as fans, it's not good to generalize them or see it as "This is the truth". People are hating the mythological figure when it's only in that interpretation they are like that.

In PJO, Ares is "Zeus' favorite", isn't a good dad, a misogynist, etc. The actual myths? One of his Epithets is LITERALLY "Feasted by Women", in the Iliad everybody basically bullies him with Zeus literally saying he hates him. He cries when he learns one of his sons is killed in the war. He literally kills someone about to rape his daughter. Ares isn't perfect but it makes me sad with how he's viewed and talked about when it's only in PJO he's like that. Same with Dionysus. Read the Bacchae, you'll love it.

In Lore Olympus, Apollo rapes Persephone (noticing the fact that modern takes on the myths add rapes where there never were hmmmmm) when he never did in any of the myths.

In TSOA, Thetis is cruel when in the Iliad, she is such a loving mother to Achilles. She grieved alongside her son over Patroclus. Also with Agamemnon. In Ipheginia at Aulis, Agamemnon is a MESS. He adored his children.

In Circe, Odysseus is viewed as a selfish man who ONLY hurts others and doesn't care about his family when that is LITERALLY his one consistent character trait. HE is actually the one who is the victim of rape. Circe was never raped.

Medusa is only a victim in Ovid's, a Roman man, works. Not in GREEK mythology. She was just a cool monster. Leave Perseus alone. Poseidon and Medusa actually had a consensual relationship in Greek Mythology!

These adaptations/retellings/inspired by/etc. whatever anybody wants to call them, are not the real myths! They may be similar in some ways but to just generalize them or hate the deity/mythological figure because of something they did in the new media feels fucked up!

You can enjoy these new stories. There's nothing wrong with that!!! But know they're not the real myths. Maybe even label it as "I hate ____'s version of ____". As that makes it clear what version you're talking about.

[sagau-my-beloved]

Death At The Hands Of A God

Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you die/are killed (by Venti), angst

-

It seemed as if the rain was particularly heavy, almost unusually so as it fell in sheets, occasionally catching the light of the moon, making it look no different than strands of silver.

That should have been a sign, the rain, the fog, the agitation of the weather. Mondstadt hadn't faced a storm this bad since before their current Archon, even the winds of Dvalin paled in comparison.

Venti was so ignorant not to pick up on the clues laid out before him by his own nation as he trudged through heavy rain, his bow at the ready and a sinking feeling in his chest.

He would never say he disliked the rain, despite what unpleasant memories linger in the back of his mind from those times. But everything carried a harsher weight when was faced with his current task, one assigned to him by no other than his creator.

Venti stopped to rest a moment, leaning against a tree for partial coverage, though it did little to shield his already soaked clothes. He felt something heavy and unpleasant in his chest as he reflected on the situation, an unshakable sense of wrongness, one that clouded his mind and dulled his senses. You were what he was after, you who posed a threat to the divine order simply because of your face.

He thought back on his creators’ honeyed words, a sickeningly sweet tone that he had never heard them use before, not that they very commonly addressed him at all, which made this particular summons out of place, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbling in his chest as he walked through their temple. To kill someone impersonating them, that is what they ordered him, hinting at the possible consequences his nation may face if he didn't comply with the utmost enthusiasm, the threat of which rang particularly loud when faced with what they had done to other nations in fits of anger.

He knew deep within him that this wasn't remotely justified, that he might as well be punished alongside you if the crime was simply stealing a face. If only you chose to look like another human, or even an Archon, he would have taken your mimicry of him as a complementary. But alas. Those feelings were pushed down and covered by the vow he made to his nation, one born of nothing but love and a promise for a brighter future.

Venti had considered alternatives, confronting you with your motive, begging you to make yourself scarce, making his own judgement on your reasons and framing his response accordingly, but those were all fleeting thoughts, quickly pushed away as soon as they arose. He couldn't get attached, he couldn't afford to think of you as human, and he certainly couldn't afford it getting back to his creator that he failed them.

He had heard about your existence from other sources, apparently being so bold as to walk directly into Mondstadt. You weren't met with pitchforks and torches, his people were more civilized than that, but the hostility was as sharp as a knife. You had left of your own accord after having no luck obtaining food or a place to stay, he had only heard after the fact from gossipers drinking late into the night, the faces of which were forced into his mind as he once again thought of his creators’ threat.

Venti was pulled from his thoughts due to a subtle noise, one almost unnoticeable through the heavy onset of rain, but it was there. A branch and a pile of leaves, something big enough to break them, and no one in their right mind would be out in this weather, except...

He swallowed what little apprehension he’d not already buried, reverting his mindset to something it had been five hundred years ago with the quick draw of his bow. The Archon saw you in the distance, just as soaked as he was, clothes tattered and foreign, scared. A quick death was the least you deserved, one free from suffering, and maybe your next life would be more forgiving.

He aimed for your head, a clear shot even now, but it seemed the moonlight that glinting off his bow caught your attention as you quickly turned your body to face him in a defensive stance, eyes wide, fearful, as if you could see what was about to come to fruition.

Your mouth moved, only fragments of the noise it produced were carried to him, broken syllables and muffled notes the very wind urged him to listen to.

You had said his name.

Venti faltered before the arrow released, for the first time in centuries, its' path no longer as steady or sure as it had been.

It hit your throat.

Venti's legs were moving before he consciously realized, forcing his body to where you fell, as if collapsing in on yourself, until he could finally see you clearly, drenched in rain and golden liquid, mixing together indiscriminately as they soak into the ground below.

There was a feeling of shock, which developed in his throat first, spreading evenly throughout the rest of his body, as if it were in his bloodstream. He looked at your terrified expression, a pained and now lifeless one, holding only fragments of the fear you felt.

What had he done.

Venti felt himself fall to his knees, hands immediately going to where his arrow lay firmly lodged, feeling for a pulse in an act he knew to be worthless.

"No. No, n-no— no. Please!" His voice cracked as his mind caught up with what his eyes were forcing him to behold.

You were the divine creator, Teyvat's one true God, and he had—

No. He couldn't even think it, the word that was on the tip of his mind carried nothing but pain, anguish and insufferable heartache, the likes of which he hadn't felt, well since...

Without thinking, Venti wrapped his arms around you, laid his head on your stomach, forced his eyes closed, and prayed. For your return, for forgiveness, and if not for any of that, then simply for a form of retribution.

He hadn't realized he'd started crying, tears and rain alike falling from his face onto your form, pooling at his eyes until the world around him became harder and harder to see.

The position you both rested in was not unlike that day long ago, forever etched in his memory and resurfaced through reflections.

Was this simple his fate? To find himself holding in his arms the corpse of someone he loved so dearly, over and over again. Was it written in his very being that all good things would be torn violently from him with little care to how it left him shattered, scrambling for the pieces of what little piece of mind he had left.

There was no coming back from this, no form of atonement. He could feel the shackles encasing his wrists, invisibly tying him to this moment, to where you had stood alive moments prior. His days of living freely died with you, forever encased in the space between where your souls had briefly met, and it was no more than he deserved.

It was only a moment later that your body was gone, dissolved into the stardust it was born from, slipping through his arms and carried by the wind that no longer obeyed him. That didn't stop him from reaching desperately, gasping and clawing at the air for what remained, heart in his throat as he begged for mercy, for anything but you depriving him of your vessel even after death.

You couldn't really be gone, not fully, you who so powerfully morphed this world from willpower alone, who disappeared for an infinite stretch of time only to descend again. Even if your vessel may have been no stronger than human, your soul was as old and powerful as existence itself, it would linger on in whatever form it had existed before, watching, waiting.

He would be ready for when you decided to give this world a second chance, he would wait an eternity and more to see your face again and repent a thousand times over, bear any hardships in the time between only to fall to his knees in complete acceptance at whatever you deem an acceptable punishment when faced with your light again.

But first...

It seemed as if there was a loose end to tie up, a deceiver bearing the ultimate sin, one much more deserving of his arrow, and one that would suffer a fate worse than death in your name.

Venti roughly brushed the tears from his face, eyes darkening as he shakily pulled himself from his knees, feeling as if his body couldn't decide between flying or collapsing.

His ‘creator’ would soon face all the fear and pain that was forced upon you, the wrath of a god who had lost everything for the second time, a goal he planned to pursue till his dying breath.

[softerhaze]

idk if it was the venus retrograde or what, but july 2023 was quite literally the worst month i've ever experienced in my life like.....every single day? awful? worse than the last? it's more likely than u think

[thenighttrain]

:(

[brothersonahotelbed]

one of these days i'll remaster this but for now its crudeness will be part of its charm. nico music be upon ye

[steakout-05]

i might get some hate for this depending on where this post goes but i think lesboys are so valid and the discourse about them is so ridiculous. like you guys shouldn't have to deal with all that and it frustrates me that people throw hissy fits over an identity that literally does not affect them at all.

"but men cant be lesbians-" wrong. butch lesbians and trans men have a really closely connected history with each other that practically intersects and you should really do some research on that before you make blanket statements, not to mention that gender and sexuality is weird and wobbly and fluid and a very personal experience. it means a different thing to each person. being a man can be something completely different and saying stuff like this ignores people like demiboys, demigirls, genderfluid and genderflux people etc. these people will really preach "demolish the gender binary!! love is love!!" until someone's relationship with gender and sexuality is a little too freaky for them to handle and be challenged by lmaoo

"ohhh but what about the cishet men who say they're lesbians to prey on women-" YEAH WHAT ABOUT THEM????? THIS AIN'T ABOUT THEM BRO!!!!! this argument also REEKS of terfy "trans women are just predatory men!!!111!!1" rhetoric and it grosses me out. yeah some men are gross and do try to pull this but that does not negate someone's entire identity completely just because of a few bad actors, you know that right? actual black and white behaviour.

queer discourse is silly and i don't know why it's a thing. just let people exist. it isn't that hard. we have worse things to worry about than whether someone calls themselves a lesboy or not. i think we need to unplug our ears and yank our heads out of the sand and remember that the queer community is what it is because of our unique and amazing diversity. arguing over labels like school children isn't gonna help that. damn.

[lostmyfridge]

DATING NICO HC'S

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A/n:This is my first post ever,so I appreciate feedback,English isn't my first language so there might be typos

Warnings:mentions of illnesses(Is that a warning?),fluff with a bit of an angsty part,but still mostly fluff,inexperienced author

Gender neutral reader

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He loooves physical affection.Expect hugs everytime you two see eachother.You're watching anime together?His head is on your shoulder with his arms around you the whole time.He got thrown back into his cell after another failed escape?Cuddles!

Let him put his head on your lap,bonus points if you play with his hair

Speaking of his hair,he'll let you style it!He will die of happiness if you style it after an anime character.Just be careful in case he has his weird hair growing disease

If you're another prisoner he'll sneak into your cell all the time!Hajime yells at him for it but at least he got to see you

If you're not a prisoner,though,please visit him a lot!Also bring him gifts,if you bring him merch he will die happy

If you're a cosplayer,expect him to fanboy over you all the time

Kisses!He'll turn all giddy when you kiss his cheek or forehead.He'll get a little embarrassed when you kiss his lips

Little spoon 100%

He doesnt get jealous very easily.I mean,of course that person is complimenting you,you're so cool!!

But if he does get actually jealous,I can see him just holding on to your hand silently.He doesn't really know how to react,so he just hopes you'll give him back your attention soon

Please defend him if another prisoner insults him bcs of his diseases

Your biggest supporter!Doesnt matter what your passions or hobbies are,as long as they arent murder or somehing,he'll cheer you on!

He loves words of affirmation as well!He calls you a lot of nicknames,as well as just fawning over you all the time

Brings you with him to his medical examinations as emotional support

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[alsojnpie]

dishes are forever