#because there was no one around telling anyone otherwise

[kaixfoxwood]

Kai nodded his head once at the very idea, he knew very little about hipsters, he didn't spent enough time with the coven's newer generation of children to understand the lingo. He wasn't even certain if hipsters were still a thing anymore. "You are kind of above them by title only, Nikolai, but I promise I won't drop to my knees before you unless it's for the very fun reasons." Once the shock wore off from the dropped news, he would really have the quiet moment properly pondering the deeper meaning of what Nikolai being a demi-god and sired by an entity controlling time itself entailed. Kai half-expected a visit from Cronus at some point, likely when his son wasn't around, giving the witch a warning either to stay away from Nikolai and sprout out the vague bullshit he'd possess no choice doing the guesswork for. At least with Nik's mother, her presence will encompass a magical warmth she no doubt passed on to her child. "Your mom-tree, right. You'll have to introduce us sometime, but any joke I'd tell her might seem wooden." A stupid joke on his part, somewhere, he could hear the groans from his siblings.

Kai gave the seer's hands a small squeeze as he listened to the other's concerns, knowing his self-esteem and what he truly believed in his heart would tell him otherwise. "I wouldn't lie and say I'm not curious to know what you've seen about me, either good or bad. That street works both ways, Nik, something in me might scream I should doubt it, but that's got nothing to do with you. The last time I developed feelings for someone, I was burned." They spoke of honesty and no one knew the story but Azriel. The witch cleared his throat, "I had this childhood friend, Abel, only friend I made and I experienced my first crush before I knew what my body was telling me. We had a secret thing for a while during the course of my training that ended up getting completely blown apart." The witch chuckled dryly, eyes immediately dropping to the floor. "Abel's brother got tossed in detainment for using an unauthorized spell a few years prior, some coven bullshit charge, and Abel had it in his head that he could tell them my preferences as blackmail. We cut a deal. I held the power to release his sibling and my secret was safe. You know, looking back," Kai paused briefly, forcing the melancholy away, "I think he strung the relationship along from the beginning to use me. A seventeen year old in the closet who now swore off of getting close to anyone." He finally raised his gaze and flickered it over the seer's features, "I'm not easy to be with either, Nikolai, but I'm willing to try because I really like you."

"I know, I know, very hipster of me." Nikolai chuckled, shaking his head at the imagery. He knew that if he allowed anyone to treat him any more differently than people do, leaning into his father's 'god's demand respect from anyone below them' schtick, his mother would find a second wind of life just to beat the shit out of him. "Please don't do it for anything other than fun; I was raised better than to treat people like I'm above them." The seer quirked a brow at how... well the witch was taking things. He could understand it, though– everything he'd Seen from the other painted Kai in a light that required him to think on his feet, often in battles that led to the scars and callouses that littered his hands. A tapestry that told stories all his own, and it did make Nik curious. Perhaps the witch would tell him stories at some point when they weren't so raw. "Well, the woods were my home, and everything that resided in it was my family, but don't worry. If you met my mom-tree, you'd know– she's still a mystical being; she'd give off some power even to those who don't know what they're looking at." The seer was silent for a beat before he spoke again, his hands gripping his lightly, a comforting weight in his palms. "Honesty is important, you're not wrong. It may be... difficult to be with me sometimes, given the nature of my abilities. Even I have to abide by rules thrust upon my shoulders by my father, and I cannot detail things I see for fear of disrupting the timelines and changing the fates of those around me. It has made relationships hard in the past, but I don't want you to ever doubt that I want to be with you for you."

[lovemyromance]

can we please stop acting like anon trolls in your inbox are from Elriel or Gwynriel or Elucien stans??

A troll doesn't have shipping preferences. They want drama, and you're giving it to them. Ignore it, stop blaming an entire faction of people over an anonymous message that could've literally come from anyone.

Y'all think you're the only one who get death threats and people threatening to go after your nonexistent children?

Like pls raise a hand if you've received a similar hate anon in the past month-or even the last week. Everyone has, regardless of ship.

The only thing that is happening when you post this kind of stuff is

1) you're telling an entire group of people "shame on you - you did this" when we're not those kinds of people

2) the other side is going to get angry because you're accusing us of this, and we're not going to look favorably to your side at all. Why should we defend the people who we already don't agree with, and are out here accusing us of heinous shit?

3) the troll is the only one benefiting from this

Stop letting it happen. If you get a troll anon, move the fuck on. If it's truly alarming or scary or has your personal information - go to the police. If it's just a generic threat - move the fuck on.

People already don't like each other over FICTIONAL CHARACTERS. Don't make it personal.

And yes, I'm aware there's crazies on both sides of the fandom. Elriels sending money for a rat to get eaten (?), Gwynriels openly threatening to dox Elriels and get their home address, Eluciens saying Elriels need to show proof of literacy to buy ACOTAR, of all things.

I have literally seen it all. And I've only been here like a year.

I understand the logic of people being upset and feeling like this shouldn't happen - you're right. This shouldn't be happening.

But I hate to tell you this - it is too far gone. You are not going to change anything about either side, let alone the trolls lurking around, by just sharing how "awful these people are".

The only thing that will happen is more toxicity will be dropped into this fandom because we all have gotten to a point where even seeing a mistagged post sets some people off.

Recognize the state of this fandom and stop feeding into the drama.

Can't we just have a mutual understanding like grown adults that there are crazies everywhere and the majority of each side does not claim those people?

Why are we - in 2025 - as grown women, going crying and screaming that "Wahhgh 🥲 the Gwynriels/elriels/Eluciens are so evil bad terrible!"

Cut this shit out. It's making this fandom a terrible place and we're all indirectly contributing to it.

Let's show some critical thinking skills as people who have fully developed frontal lobes (or are on their way there) and fucking ignore it. Because we're only making it worse otherwise.

[bullet-prooflove]

The Detective & The Professor: Endeavour Morse x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @caffeinatedwoman @lieutenantcrosby @to-grow-in-and-to-love @gwyn73

Companion piece to:

Next Time - Morse doesn't expect to meet his soulmate on the lawn at Oxford.

California Dreaming - Morse wants to discuss the night you spent together.

You look beautiful tonight. A vision in a black and white jumpsuit, one that closely resembles his own tuxedo. Your mouth is a slash of red, your eyes winged with a dark liner that makes them glitter like the finest jewels in the Ashmolean Museum.

You wear your hair in a half up, half down style, revealing a slender throat adorned with an ornate onyx and silver choker. It covers the mark he left on your skin earlier today, the one he made when he bit down on the side of your neck, repressing the sound of his climax as you made love inside your classroom.

Already there’s a stirring inside of him, a rush of heat that blossoms in his groin as he meets your gaze.

“You scrub up well.” You say as you step towards him, your lips brush his cheek and the scent of your perfume floods his senses, something fresh and luminous that reminds him of dewy springtime mornings.

“And you are stunning.” He says tucking you underneath his arm, holding you close. “The most beautiful woman in Oxford.”

“You flatter me.” You say with a sincerity that’s visceral. He realises in that moment, that a woman like you doesn’t hear too many complements. They aren’t often given to ones who defy convention.

He ignores the looks the both of you draw when you step through the stone entrance and into the outdoor space they use for the symphony. Oxford scholars are a gossipy sort. He gathers you’ve not taken a lover for a long time and of course, he has a bit of notoriety since the arrest of Felix Lorimer.

The Detective and the Professor, it’s all anyone can talk about in the weeks that follow. They discuss the night the two of you spent underneath the stars, your cheek resting on his shoulder as you were serenaded by the best musicians in the country, your fingers threaded with his.

He becomes a permanent fixture in your world after that, an attentive partner, an formidable opponent, an intuitive lover. Your debates are legendary, each one long and spirited, often ending with a fond smile as he proclaims how impossible you are before he makes love to you on a bed that’s never known it, not before you.

The good old boys are up in arms over the whole thing, they’ve been taking shots at you for years without so much as a hand up your skirt and the women titter because there are rumours about Morse, about the fact he has a medal, one for undisclosed services to the crown.

“We keep going on like this I’m going to fall in love with you.” You warn him one evening when your tangled up in bed together. His arm is looped around your waist, keeping you gathered up close, your legs entwined with his.

“It’s too late for me I’m afraid.” He tells you, his thumb ghosting over the blush of your cheek as he looks into your eyes. “I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[acourtofthought]

What’s your take on people saying that Elain and Lucien have no chemistry. I see that a lot in the fandom and I always feel confused it almost feels like I don’t know what I am reading cause I can remember when I read that first scene with them in ACOWAR my heart was bursting with all the angst. I read it over and over again but then people say they don’t have chemistry and I don’t know how to feel.

I think your reading experience and analysis is just as valid for you as theirs is for them and if you feel something while reading Elain and Lucien then who are they to tell you otherwise?

I might differ from E/riels when it comes to who Elain's endgame is and who Sarah has clearly set up as being the right guy for her but that doesn't mean I would ever tell them they're wrong for thinking Sarah was also building for something (whatever that may be) to have existed for Elain and Az, just like Sarah was building for something to exist because Chaol and Celaena even while she was kissing Dorian, or building something for Rowan and Aelin even while she was laying in bed beside him missing Chaol.

I think E/riels tend to take look at this book with a very simplistic lens (she wants to kiss Az therefore she must end up with Az even though her book hasn't even been written!) whereas I think Elucien's tend to look a little deeper, "just because this is what's written on the page right now I believe Sarah is laying the clues for a different path for Elain". So we don't necessarily need to see fireworks for Elain and Lucien right now in order for us to believe that's still coming.

As far as Elain and Lucien having no chemistry, I guess it depends on what someone's definition of chemistry is. Are we talking sexual chemistry? Banter? Heated arguments?

I wouldn't say their chemistry is jumping off the page right now but there are many valid reasons for that. I don't think Az and Elain's chemistry jumps off the page either, I would have never known he was harboring such lusty thoughts for her until we got his POV in the bonus. Remember the scene where Mor is wearing a white dress and Feyre looks over to see Az hungrily staring after her? Or when he looked at her with heat and yearning on Solstice while Elain sat in the room with him? His desire for Mor was blatantly obvious for anyone to see but the only thing anyone ever noticed for Az when it came to Elain is his kindness and later one charged look. After the blatant yearning he had on his face for Mor over multiple books, "charged look" is pretty anti-climatic. Not to mention his "soft voice, gentle hands, etc." when he's around Elain. To me that reads more like he's trying not to scare a frightened animal or child than having any real chemistry with his future wife that's supposed to be his equal.

With Elain and Lucien I think there is a lot of tension right now. When her eyes spark upon looking at him, when she felt him tug on their bond, when she locked eyes with him before he left to find Vassa. I think Elain is keeping her thoughts of Lucien hidden (Feyre confirms Elain is better at secret keeping than Az), therefore there's no way to get a sense of any chemistry between them because Elain has not really dropped her guard. Not to mention Elain was in love with Graysen and severely depressed the only time we ever witnessed Elain and Lucien alone together, he was struggling with his guilt over Jesminda's death and sadness over having no home. These are two people who were weighted down by some pretty heavy issues and now dealing with a completely unexpected bond on top of it so I'm not sure why anyone is looking for them to be laughing and carrying on. Az sat there listening to Elain talk about gardens, Lucien was sitting there listening to Elain talk about the loss of her humanity and Graysen. Elain gave Az gag gifts for Solstice, Elain is now suddenly ignoring Lucien. Frivolous might be fun, but it's not real so yeah, there might be more scenes where Elain and Az are in more relaxed scenarios which could translate to "chemistry" for others but these sorts of books typically prefer drama and tension for the endgame pairings which Elain and Lucien do have. Not to mention both Elain and Lucien are extremely polite and well-mannered, often hiding what they really want to say behind civility, so I think we are going to need scenes where everyone isn't staring them down to see what they're going to say and do. We finally had a scene like that for Elain and Az in his bonus and to me, it was cringey. Her hands were shaking, they shared no banter, Elain's mouth only "twitched" into a smile, he "left the rest unspoken" which means they're still not having any real conversations. Yes, they were down to hook-up but it felt empty and shallow to me, I don't consider that meaningful chemistry.

Do you remember in Pride and Prejudice, where Jane really did like Mr. Bingley but Darcy thought he was protecting his friend by telling him that she did not feel as strongly for him as he did for her so they left? And Elizabeth later yells at Darcy claiming that her sister hardly talks of her own emotions with her? I think that's a little of what we're seeing with Elain right now when it comes to Lucien. Not necessarily that she's in love with him but I think she's more intrigued by Lucien than anyone realizes. Just like we later found out Feyre wanted Rhys even UTM (then went on to accept Tamlin's proposal), just like we found out Nesta wanted Cassian from the first moment she met him (but went on to sleep with other guys), I think we'll see that Elain was equally as effected by Lucien but has been fighting it this entire time.

It seems purposeful that Sarah chose to have Elain completely ignore Lucien in the novella and SF. Chemistry cannot be determined if two characters never talk, barely even look at each other, and that to me means that now that Graysen is out of the picture, Elain and Lucien's chemistry would be much more difficult to hide so rather than give anything away she just chose to have them not interact. And I think just like we had the line in P & P where everyone is shocked at Elizabeth accepting Darcy's proposal because everyone thought she hated him, we'll see something similar for the other characters when it comes to Elain with Lucien.

[seilon]

really actually makes me sick that my mother claims to be an lgbt friendly psychologist/counsellor and then deadnames and misgenders me on the phone to students constantly and purposefully even despite me being on testosterone for almost two years now and passing visibly and audibly

[squorttle-pox]

please. i need alastor with his hair up so we can see the side of his head. second set of ears or smooth flesh prairie?

[sysig]

Size difference.png (Patreon)

[unusualshrimp]

hey sorry i can't come to work today im thinking about the various implications of zombie horror and the way it affects people

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[secondpersonpoetry]

hi! heard the released “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” (which i’ve seen you’ve heard live, if i’m not mistaken!!) this morning and i don’t know if there’s really a particular vibe/dynamic/ship hrpf-wise (personally haven’t yet been able to put my finger on it) that quite relates but the lyrics have been rotating in my head all day and i was wondering if you had any thoughts? hope you have a good one! <3

OH ANON HAVE I EVER SEEN IT LIVE!!! and the second that song came out i zoomed it straight into my fic playlist and unfortunately there are so many guys this could be. right now the one that's resonating is, of course, the golden boy and his haunted ghost themselves: mcstrome.

i am thinking about connor, specifically, after the stanley cup final. that game seven. how angry he was, how loud the silence when they told him he won the conn smythe. how close he's come before and again and again lost. there's nobody else to blame but himself. he's in the empty room and he knows why (1)

at!! your best!!! you were magic!!! oh, golden boy. connor the anointed, of course. at the very beginning of his career we always knew he was something special and who wouldn't have fallen in love with him? weren't all of us a little bit dylan strome in awe of the generational talent? we were all bathed in radiant light just by being in the vicinity (2)

don't even tell 'em that you know me breaks my heart (3). in terms of building a narrative i think i've said before there is a universe where connor/dylan were together before the draft and to protect both of them, dylan breaks up with him. connor says i love you and dylan says i don't. because he doesn't, you know? he loved connor. he loved davo. he can't be in love with connor mcdavid, first overall pick of the edmonton oilers. i'd rather be hurt forever than have to watch us try to make this work and destroy us.

and after connor mcdavid left the otters, dylan strome captained them to a memorial cup win. what a haunted home, eh? to be captain of the team you and your best friend were on, only now he's left you? don't call me to tell me about your rookie season with the oilers--we both know about your broken collarbone. don't call me to tell about becoming the youngest captain in franchise history when i stepped into the shoes of your captaincy here. don't call me. (4)

narratively: dylan's the one who broke connor's heart and his own but by god it wasn't easy. we both know what happened, you went first overall. please don't make this harder on me. please don't call.

this verse can be about the weight of dylan having to live up to connor's standards and always being measured by him. i would just like to bring up the connor stepping stone chart for absolutely no reason as well (5)

we are, at long last, at the potential future of now: dylan strome, happy, smiling, thriving on the washington capitals. connor, on the oilers. i'm not yours, dylan can say. haven't been for a long time. it took some time but i made this. please don't call and ruin this for me, stay out of my life. i don't want you or need you (6)

[p.s. this took a while because when i received this ask i was a) immediately possessed to write this verse by verse breakdown i had never thought of before and then b) immediately plagued by the idea of making you a little graphic (above the read more) and finally got to do it after banging out all the actual lyric thoughts two (?) weeks ago. emerging two and a half hours later from the fugue state of GIMP with 37 layers in this bad boy hope you enjoy!!!]

[cosmogyros]

.

[geneviveleocardius]

crying over movies

and pregnant with simon riley’s baby

the sound of your sobs cuts through the quiet of the house, sharp and raw. simon drops the knife he’s been using to chop vegetables, his heart lurching in his chest. it’s not unusual for you to cry these days—pregnancy hormones have been working overtime—but this… this is different. this is gut-wrenching, the kind of crying that makes his pulse race with worry.

he rushes into the living room, where he left you curled up on the couch watching after sun. the sight that greets him stops him in his tracks. you’re a mess, your face red and blotchy, tears streaming down your cheeks, big eyes wide and glassy as you clutch a pillow like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“love?” his voice is low, calm despite the panic clawing at his chest. he crouches in front of you, his hands reaching out to cradle your face. “what’s wrong? is it the baby? are you in pain?”

you shake your head frantically, your sobs hitching as you try to speak. “n-no, it’s not—” a deep breath, and then another sob escapes. “it’s not the baby. it’s—oh my god, simon, it’s just—”

he watches you, his brows furrowed, utterly baffled. “just what?”

“the movie!” you wail, throwing your arms up dramatically. “it was so sad, simon! and—and then i started thinking about us and the baby and—and—oh my god, you’re never gonna be a single parent, okay? i’m never leaving you!”

his eyes widen at the declaration, and he blinks, stunned. “what tha—?”

“and you have to promise me, simon,” you cut him off, your voice shaky but insistent. “if something’s ever bothering you, you’re gonna tell me, right? we’re a team, and i love you so damn much, okay? you can’t ever leave me, because i’d just—” a hiccup. “i’d die without you!”

he stares at you, his lips parted slightly, trying to process the flood of emotions pouring out of you. he’s used to your mood swings by now—the tears over burnt toast, the laughter that turned into crying because of a stupid dog video—but this? this is a whole new level.

you’re still sobbing, your breaths coming in hiccupping gasps, and his heart aches in a way he doesn’t quite understand. “love, you’re gonna hyperventilate,” he mutters, sitting beside you and pulling you into his arms. you melt into him instantly, your hands clutching at his shirt as you bury your face against his chest.

“i mean it, simon,” you mumble, your voice muffled by his shirt. “i’ll never leave you. you’re stuck with me forever.”

he lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “bloody hell, i should hope so. wouldn’t have married you otherwise, yeah?”

“and the baby,” you continue, ignoring his attempt to lighten the mood. “we’re gonna be the best parents, and—and if you ever think i’m not doing enough, you have to tell me, okay? i’ll do better. i swear.”

“sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning back so he can tilt your face up to look at him. your tear-streaked cheeks and swollen eyes might look like a disaster to anyone else, but to him, you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “you’re more than enough. you’re everything. and you’re not going anywhere, yeah? we’re fine. we’re better than fine.”

your lower lip trembles, and more tears spill over. “i just—i love you so damn much, simon. you can’t ever leave me. promise me.”

he exhales, a soft huff of disbelief, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you’re unbelievable, you know that?” he mutters against your skin. “but alright. i promise. i’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. happy?”

you nod, sniffling, and wrap your arms tighter around him. “so happy.”

he holds you close, his large hands rubbing slow circles on your back as your sobs gradually quiet into soft hiccups. he’s still not entirely sure how you got from a movie to this existential meltdown, but one thing’s for sure: he wouldn’t trade this chaotic, hormonal, beautiful mess for anything.

[fable-x4]

Doing this because it makes me happy •Ꮂ•. Im making it difficult on all of you though.

1 note- I'll go drink water

10 notes - I'll set alarms to actually care for myself

50 notes - set up a daily productivity system so I stop wasting my time doing nothing.

100 notes - ask my friends to help me buy a skirt

500 notes - get a bra & a whole bunch of other affirming clothing !!!

1k - tell my dad that my gf is also trans

2.5k - ask my dad to address me by my prefferred name & pronouns 1k went pretty poorly, so I dont feel super comfortable making an attempt on this.

5k - try to get therapy/psychologist

10k - girl mode at all times (start actively wearing makeup/clothing/doing voice training around people at all times)

50k - try for HRT (0% chance) (also no guarantee on this one)

Asfgg. It feels surprisingly good to have a bunch of strangers who want me to be happy

I have now set up alarms for eating, waking up, and hygene related stuff. I seriously doubt we get to 500, but this has made me significantly happier •Ꮂ•

Doing some math... 25 notes in 4 hours. 6.25 notes per hour. 8000 hours or 333 days until this hits 50k. Hrt in a year ig.

Um. Wow. Its been a day, and we're almost at 300. Everything 500 & below was supposed to be things I'd do with minimal intervention. But now, we're getting to the scarier stuff. I am very intimidated, but also excited

My gf really badly wanted to be here when I buy some of the clothing, so the skirt will be this week, the rest of the clothing will be when she comes back from vacation

Saying that you're force femming me is so not allowed. This is unfair. You have no right to make me feel the ways Im feelingggg. Stop making me happy.

Welp. I told him about my girlfriend. And things went about as poorly as expected. He said that Im parroting what other people think. Slowly taking little parts of them, and applying them to myself. Specifically, being trans. He didnt even leave it to maybes. He said with certainty that I was copying everyone else. I know 9 trans people total. Only 2 of them are my close friends. Everyone else, Im barely aquaintences with. I should have told him that regardless of whatever theories he has, this has boosted my confidence massively. Slightly less excited for 2.5k notes. At least everything after that is very positive. And at least this lets me talk about my girlfriend for ages. I dont have to say her deadname through gritted teeth. Oh context. He already knows Im trans but was ignoring it.

I GOT A SKIRT!!!!!

Thank all of you so much. At first when I got the skirt, I was pretty intimidated by the idea of showing my legs. I thought everyone will just see me as a man. But there's a degree of confidence you all have given me. Yeah. Im pretty. Yeah, Im beautiful even. Yeah. Its a friggin fantastic skirt. And anyone who thinks otherwise is dumb. Im happy, and thats what matters.

[justrandomthoughtsandthings]

you know what's funny? all the Justice Leage|DC x Danny Phantom crossover fics, that start with or otherwise include the premise of the Justice League (often led by Justice League Dark, and John Constantine in particular) summoning the new Ghost King to ascertain his threat status.

like. there's something very human about that. believing that, because you have named yourselves the defenders of your world, that you have any authority to demand answers of interdimensional royalty -- of anyone, really. the Green Lanterns, sure, they're quite literally a universal force and are such recognized. but only thru the lands that agree to that or are included in a sector that is under any Lantern Corps jurisdiction.

the Infinite Realms are under no one's jurisdiction but their own, so the thought of the justice league demanding answers from them is akin to a random child coming up to you in the airport and demanding you give them something. like, I'll entertain this conversation cause you're adorable but also, you have no power here, child. where is your adult?

and, from what I've seen, no one can get Constantine to do what he doesn't want or need to do. not even Batman, who is just a man.

so he'd love to be holed up in the House of Mysteries, leaving the capes to mess around and find out. but then that would make it his responsibility, so he's there to oversee the summoning and step in if neeeded, but personally has no desire to add another curse to his coat.

anywho, I'm just imagining the Justice League summoning Ghost King Danny and demanding answers and, like any teenager who knows he'll have no repercussions for doing so, he tells them to fuck off (imagine, if you will, the same joy you feel when your parents say that you're allowed to go against the rules in school because the rules are arbitrary and self-serving at best and harmful at worst, and you won't get in trouble for it even if you get detention/suspended at school)

and they're all aghast cause, what? who do you think you're talking to? and Danny's all, no, who do you think you're talking to? I am the King of the Infinite Realms, Protector of Amity Park, Keeper of the Stars, *insert all his other random titles a la Thor and Loki stalling*, and you do not make demands of me, mortal. then he just dips, cause really? a tiny lil containment circle? ha!

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 8:46

“Do you have dimples?”

Bakugou doesn’t understand it himself, but you always find your way back to his house after your first visit—asking these out-of-the-blue questions that seem to have no end to them. It’s like a curse has befallen him, one that follows him wherever he goes.

For a moment, his eyes snap in your direction, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side, though his intense glare never once wavers. He didn’t know what the hell you were getting at, and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to even want to know why you were asking about something so random.

Honestly, he should be used to it by now. But the thing is, he isn’t, because sooner or later you’ll be popping out of nowhere with another of your pointless questions.

“Hah?”

“I asked, do you have dimples?” you repeated.

His eye twitches at the repeated question, and as much as he’d like to give you a snappy remark to get you to stop, he can’t seem to come up with one. So, for the time being, he decides to humor you (and hope for the best that you drop it and move onto another topic).

“Why the hell are you asking?”

“Because Kaminari and I made a bet whether you have dimples or not. I went with yes, you do have them—even if it’s a singular dimple, but Kaminari says otherwise,” you explained, tapping your finger softly against the coffee table.

He scoffs at the childish reason. “And what makes you think I do have one?”

“A hunch,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “I also have just one.” You smiled, showing off your obvious singular dimple on your right cheek.

Bakugou glances at your dimple for a brief moment, eyes scanning over your face and the way that the dimple seemed to perfectly dip into the soft skin of your cheek. He almost found himself entranced for a moment, but his gaze returned to your eyes as he huffed out in mock disinterest.

He was about to dismiss your hunch—maybe just flat-out refuse to even show you—or come up with a lie. But Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t a liar.

“What happens if you win the bet?”

“I get 3000 yen,” you answered.

That’s a lot, he thought.

“I can pay you 3000 yen to shut the fuck up and stop with the useless questions.”

“There’s no fun in that!”

He scoffs again as he leans back against the sofa, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at your stupidity. He eyed you for a moment, his head tilting to the side as he sighed. “And what happens if you lose the bet?”

“He gets 3000 yen.”

Bakugou almost wanted to laugh at the fact that you were putting so much faith and money on a simple guess, but he managed to hold back on the amused expression and forced himself to remain calm and unbothered.

He leaned back a bit more, relaxing against the plush seats, letting out a mocking “tch” before he said, “What if I don’t show you if I have a damn dimple or not?”

“Please? Oh my god, Bakugou. Don’t do this to me now! Kaminari’s going to do a ‘victory dance’ when he finds out he won by default,” you half-whined.

He was about to give you his final choice when suddenly you started whining at him. Bakugou rose an eyebrow at you, lips quirking to a frown. As idiotic as it is to him, it looks like it was quite a serious matter to you.

“Tch. Whatever.”

You threw your hands to your face, groaning. “Pretty please, with a cherry on top? Spare me some sympathy—and be a team player for once!”

He found himself fighting a scowl at the way you acted. It was somewhat different this time around, and it was making him feel weird. Damn it. You’re a goddamn nuisance.

“Alright, fine. Just—” He motioned with his hand for you to come closer, an almost annoyed expression on his face. “If you tell anyone else about this other than Dunce Face, I’ll make sure you don’t ever see the next sunrise.”

“That doesn’t sound heroic at all—but yes, of course!” you cheered. “Just a little smile, and I shall confirm the goods.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, already regretting giving into your stupid request but at the same time knowing that he would never let Kaminari win against you in all circumstances possible.

He let out a huff and hesitantly let the sides of his own lips quirk up into a half-assed attempt at a smile, but from the way it was so rigid, it looked more like a painful grimace.

You gave him a confused, somewhat flat look in return. “Dude, you look like you’re about to shit yourself—mmph! ” You didn’t get to finish what you were saying as Bakugou’s palms immediately squished your cheeks together to shut you up.

“Oh shut it, dipshit,” Bakugou grumbled, his grip on your cheeks tightening ever so slightly as he forced you to pout your lips. “You were asking for a smile. I give one, and you wanna give me smart ass remarks about it?”

“I didn’ even gwet toh shee anythin’! That’s how bwad ith was,” you muffled out through pouty lips.

“Are you gonna keep yapping and bitching about what you asked for, or are you gonna accept my goddamn smile?”

“Fine, fine!” you yielded, pushung his hands away from your face. “Do it one more time, and I’ll actually check this time.”

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he were wondering if you were going to actually do as you said or go against it and keep making smart-ass comments. But as you yielded, he let out a sigh and decided he’d rather just get this done and over with. 

Less hassle for him.

He repeated his ‘smile’ from before, which looked more like a forced sneer, and he waited for your verdict. This was his last straw; he was going to murder you (not).

You had to hold back your laughter but failed to do so. “I really can’t— Bakugou, please! ” you mused, hitting his shoulder playfully. “Your ‘smile’ reminds me of that time Kirishima had to hold the biggest shit before the bell rings.”

That caught Bakugou off guard. He remembered the memory of Kirishima’s panicked expression and the weird waddle he’d walked around in as he desperately tried to find a bathroom made Bakugou snort under his breath.

“Oh my god, you’re laughing!” you gawked. “And have a dimple! Just a singular one, like mine! We’re matching.”

There it was. A singular dimple on his left cheek.

Bakugou tried to regain his lost composure and let out a scoff in an attempt to mask the slight tint of pink that reached the tip of his ears. He forced his hand onto your face, shoving you (lightly, if he may add) away from him to prevent you from getting another look at his dimple.

“It’s not a worldwide discovery, dumbass. I can fucking laugh if I want to, and it’s just a fucking indent on the cheek.”

“Still cute,” you shrugged, pulling up your phone to text Kaminari. “I need to let Kami know that I won the bet, then we celebrate with bubble tea— my treat!”

“Hey wait— You—“

He tried to protest against your sudden celebration, wanting to tell you that he wasn’t going to let you treat him for anything. This whole damn thing started because of a stupid bet, and he doesn’t really find joy in gaining something from it, but as you pulled out your phone and began to text Kaminari, he sighed and leaned back again with his arms crossed tight against his chest.

“Whatever. You’re fucking annoying.”

“Kay,” you answered. “Also, your actual smile is pretty charming, if you ask me. It’s different from the usual sneer you have on your face. That’s just my opinion, though.”

Bakugou’s face grew a bit warm at your unexpected compliment, but he quickly tried to hide it and turned his head to avert his gaze away from you. His mouth opened to reply with a snappy remark or something like that, but he found himself hesitating.

He eventually scoffed and muttered a low, “Tch. Stop spouting nonsense.”

“Bakugou Katsuki has a singular dimple,” you sing-songed aloud, though you knew that no one would hear since his parents weren’t even home.

Bakugou felt his eyes twitch at your teasing, resisting the urge to tell you off and even going as far as to just punch your shoulder lightly. “Shut the fuck up, dipshit.”

He later found out that there was no bet, and you had just made up the whole scenario to confirm your curiosity. That Bakugou Katsuki does have a dimple, a singular one at that.

Could you imagine how furious he was?

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