#fucking fight me 'casual fashion' blogs

[meat-wentz]

I would love to hear your stories from your time as a dark fashion blogger >:3 !!!

omg so the era of being a dark fashion blogger mostly spanned from 2011-2013 for me. the key was that i had established myself around 2010-2011 in a group of really big photography blogs so my mutuals were powerful. it was very, how do i say, like teenager-y, like early olivia bee and petra collins and tavi gevinson type photography and aesthetics (very big emphasis on olivia bee), pics of kissing and pillow forts and twinkle lights and skateboarding and swimming pools, and hair illuminated by the sun which was this sort of very youth fueled aesthetic that you might clock as something that later became a huge phenomenon that has a chokehold on millennials still blogging. anyways, i made my switch into fashion after i graduated high school, and by that time a few of my mutuals had become tag curators, so instead of algorithm-based assortments of posts under discovery tags, they were hand selected blog features. i kept up every day with new fashion spreads, editorials, runways from all over the world to keep my blog up to date and current, and was constantly featured in the fashion tag so i amassed about 10,000 followers. during this time period, i was also going to college and independent-ish for the first time so i started partying hardcore and my music scene kind of revolved around dark electronic music and we worshipped at the altar of alice glass, we were effie stonem-kinnies to the highest degree, smoking cigarettes and covered in glitter and smudged eyeliner. the only color lipstick i wore was black and i would also scrounge all my allowance money for new clothes which were essentially black basics and hooded leather bombers and velvet shoes and shit with silver hardware especially spikes. this was also a huge time for casual bdsm porn blogging so that was a huge inspiration for a lot of us to get into more bondage based fashion and sex-inspired looks like latex and leather and rope, and it was reflected in a lot of high fashion at the time as well. jeffrey campbell and the blondes and alexander mcqueen were like the blueprints, all we wanted were litas, literally all we wanted were litas. we blogged almost exclusively about party drugs, wanting to die, fashion, and music. this was also a time for taking requests on tumblr and since i was the most popular blog in my friend group, we would usually host requests on my blog, like the first time i did ketamine, was extremely documented by anons asking for pics of four way kisses, tit pics (with my friends covering my boobs with their hands), stripping, etc. we would also well document any wounds we got, like knee scrapes, bite bruises, cigarette burns etc. anon hate was OFF THE CHARTS, especially as i got more and more depressed and only wanted to use my very public blog as an outlet and people did not give a shit about me, they only gave a shit about my posts, so they'd constantly be telling me to shut the fuck up and blog, and also because the very same people i was blogging about personal turmoil with WERE LOOKING AT MY BLOG AND THEN FIGHTING WITH ME ABOUT MY POSTS IRL. it was extremely fucking messy, but also probably my most notable time as a blogger. if you ever see a pic of a white dude's chest covered in stickers that made the rounds on tumblr about ten years ago that's my ex. also one time i blogged about an upcoming model so much that we ended up hooking up. the teenagers followed me and i cried on the floor and i'm still friends with some of the members on facebook as well as the former editorial director of tumblr.

i just wanna express none of this was glamorous, i had a lot of fun but was very unsafe and out to passively harm myself, please take my reminiscing with a grain of salt i have friends from this era who are still some of my best friends and some of the best people i have ever known so i have A LOT of great memories with them, but on the whole this was the most depressive period in my entire life and i dropped out of college and started a twitter account so i was clearly unwell.

[marshmellowtea]

I posted 13,329 times in 2022

2,258 posts created (17%)

11,071 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@idkhowbutimgayer

@bisethbullock

@sweetoothgirl

@voiceless-terror

@fashion-soul

I tagged 11,899 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#marshy speaks - 2,360 posts

#markiplier - 1,631 posts

#in space with markiplier - 948 posts

#food - 905 posts

#dhmis - 610 posts

#actor mark - 560 posts

#succession - 533 posts

#fnaf - 530 posts

#cats - 503 posts

#who killed markiplier - 442 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and they’re well aware they should probably be having a conversation with him about honest communication but……like……it is kind of cute hvfhv

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

just watched the try guys response video to the situation and honestly i just…..feel really sad for the rest of the try team. i know a lot of people were making jokes and i don’t fault them for it necessarily but it’s like…..really hitting me how much this has actually devastated so many people and it’s sad to think about

319 notes - Posted October 3, 2022

#4

i think the real reason mark and celine didn’t work out is not because of any house entity or anything like that it was because they were meant to be a girlboss/malewife couple with celine being the breadwinner and mark staying home and making femboy tiktoks all day but unfortunately they lived in the 1920′s 

392 notes - Posted May 30, 2022

#3

actually in my mind this is what the captain and mark’s relationship is like 

421 notes - Posted May 19, 2022

#2

FUCK a fight between actor and darkiplier i wanna see them both individually fight their true enemy (that being, of course, their own feelings)

450 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i know it’s been said before but it MUST be said again: i am in LOVE with whumpees who will casually drop things about their traumatic pasts in normal conversations without realizing that it’s not, in fact, just a normal story, especially if they get insecure or heartbreakingly confused afterwards about why everyone is looking at them like that 

536 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[zephirine-blog1]

Do you ever just think about how a thin person can throw on jeans and a t-shirt with a messy bun and it becomes a ‘look’? 

And about how 80% of street fashion is just conventionally attractive people living their lives with the same minimal effort as everyone else? 

And about how skinny faces+sunglasses is so “aesthetic” because they have the right cheekbones and hollows?

Yeah no it’s chill it’s not like we don’t live in a world that’s infinitely more fucked up than this anyways it just gets my fucking goat. 

[lihikainanea]

Did tiger and bill ever go through like a phase where tiger kind of had to get used to bill thinking of her? Like she wasn't really used to being someone's first choice, like someone thinking about what she might like or want. To have someone frankly just think of you. I'm sorry to be a bother. Just feeling kind of bad lately, and could use some sweet bill. Sorry again.

First of all boo, please don't ever be sorry for sliding into my DMs. I love hearing from you guys, especially if you're not doing that well. I'm all ears, and this blog is a safe space for everyone--so pull up a chair and stay awhile. I, and our two favourite idiots, would be nothing if it weren't for all the amazing asks that you guys send to me <3

Secondly, I love this train of thought because I think it is very, very true. And it probably started back at the beginning of their friendship, right? Yes, it did. Follow me down this rabbit hole.

Bill doesn't make a lot of new friends because since the whole fame thing, he has trouble trusting people--and Bill, by nature, is a caretaker. He's extremely nurturing. He provides. He takes care of those close to him, in one way or another. But he knows his own empathic side, he knows its limits and boundaries, and one of the worst things he can do for his own well being is care about too many people. Get involved with too many people. Bill is happiest amongst his close group of friends, people he knows he can trust, people he can cook dinner for and host movie nights for and fly halfway around the world when he has a premiere.

And tiger, for her part--my girl tiger, she has zero self-preservation skills. Like, none. And Bill is fascinated by that. He's fascinated by this little fireball who not only has no idea who he is, but who subsequently really couldn't give a shit once she found out. He's enamoured with this little scrappy ball of ire who is convinced not only that she can start a bar fight with everyone in the pub, but that she can legitimately win. Bill's never seen anything like it. And once you meet tiger, she's impossible not to love. Or at least, it's impossible not to be intrigued by her, and to want to know more.

But the thing is, that firecracker personality and the massive chip on her shoulder doesn't come from nowhere--tiger's been hurt a lot. And it's because she never goes for the good guys. For as much as Bill has an empath side, tiger has the self-destructive kind where she wants to fix people. And she always goes for the dudes who will take and take and take, the dudes who play rope a dope with her heart, and who leave her shattered. Tiger gives her soul away too easily, and she takes it as a challenge when she's tossed to the side by some guy who was never worth her time anyway. She tries to prove she's worthy.

But then in comes Bill--this big, wall-eyed, kind of freaky looking dude who seems nice and kind and is moderately soft spoken. And when they hang out, Bill starts showing a genuine interest--platonically, of course--but it's genuine. He asks what she does for a living. He asks if she likes it. He wants to know where she went to school, what she studied. Does she have any siblings? Because he has a lot, and he knows how tough big families can make you. When tiger can't decide if she wants the chilli fries or the chicken wings one night at a pub, Bill tells her to get both--and that's when she knew they'd be friends.

And it slowly but surely escalated from there--still all platonic at the beginning--but suddenly, Bill was asking her how she was getting home, if she needed a ride. He was asking her how her week was, when everyone got together on Friday--and if she had mentioned something big previously, a meeting or a presentation or something--he'd remember, and ask her how it went. If he left the bar early, he'd politely ask her if she could text him when she got home.

"Why?" she scoffed.

"Because somebody needs to look out for you," he answered honestly. Tiger, in true fashion, balked awkwardly.

And this is where her defence mechanism started to fly up. Because when you're not used to being cared for, when you're not used to genuinely mattering to someone or hell even just getting the attention of a truly good person--it's weird. It's awkward. It's scary as hell and requires a level of vulnerability that tiger isn't ready to let exist--because it would mean that she would have to admit to herself that she is worthy. That this is the norm, and that she deserves this. That she knowingly let herself settle for being treated like shit for so many years.

And tiger's first defence is always anger. So maybe she started getting real snippy with him, probably well into their friendship by this point--so Bill was cooking for her, and if he wasn’t then he was checking in to make sure she ate at least one vegetable that day. If she had a date, he would wait until she texted him that she was in for the night--whether that was at the guy’s place or hers. If she needed a ride home in the morning then he would pick her up, in all of her walk of shame glory--but he’d pick her up with a few Advil, some big sunglasses, a huge coffee. And he would absolutely make fun of her nefarious, ill-fated decisions but he’d always wait at least 12 hours before he dared.

But to go even further--you are absolutely right. Bill does put her first. Once she is solidified as his best friend, then there’s no going back--she comes first. And part of it is Bill really is legitimately concerned because tiger has no self preservation skills and he worries that if HE doesn’t concern himself over her, then tiger will just like...her reckless decisions will be her undoing. He must look after Little Human, because Little Human’s self-destructive streak is far too prevalent. He has left dates in the dust when she needed his help. He looks out for her in group settings, and intervenes if some idiot is getting too handsy with her. If he has a boys night that night but tiger calls crying because some idiot broke her heart, or crying because it’s shark week and she’s out of gummy bears--then Bill is there. In a heartbeat, he’s there. She comes first.

And I’ll bet it’s all very nice, but it also kind of has tiger seething. Because she’s not used to this kind of...care. The genuineness of it. And tiger can’t be vulnerable enough to admit that part of her likes it, part of her feels safe knowing that even in the wee hours of the morning, Bill is awake and waiting for her to let him know she got in safely. Part of her kind of likes this idea that someone is thinking of her, that someone prioritizes her. But it’s still tiger, so she also gets hella mad. And she seethes--for a long time, she seethes. Quietly. And then maybe it all just comes to a head one night when she goes over to Bill’s place after work and he has a crisp glass of white wine waiting for her, a change of clothes, even her favourite make up remover--the kind that doesn’t sting, because she has sensitive skin. And all of that pisses her off, but then she walks into the kitchen as he’s deftly cleaning and slicing mushrooms.

“How did it go?” he asks casually. Tiger plays dumb.

“How did what go?” she swigs her wine.

“The meeting with your boss today.”

“...Fine,” she mumbles, petulantly. Of course he’d remember that, even though she told him two weeks ago. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he offers kindly. Tiger sees an errant pile of green onions on his chopping board, and she eyes them wearily but somewhat triumphantly. Bill heads to the fridge, pulls out a bowl of salad, then he tosses the green onions in. Perfect, she thinks, and it gives her a weird sense of satisfaction. Mr. Nice Guy, Mr. Considerate, doesn’t even remember what she considers to be the most significant thing about her. That she hates green onions. She feels triumphant, renewed. Somewhat weirdly comforted to confirm that perhaps she doesn’t mean that much to him.

Until he heads back to the fridge, and pulls out another bowl of salad--one that he promptly dresses, salts and peppers, and tosses. One without green onions. One for her.

“Why do you do that?!” she explodes. Bill jumps in surprise.

“Do what?” he asks innocently, “This one has no green onions!”

“Exactly,” she continues, “Ugh, Bill. Just...why do you always...ugh, Bill!”

Bill is stunned, still holding his bowl of salad, trying to figure out what exactly is happening here.

“It’s too much,” tiger says, slamming her wine down, “All of it is too much.”

“What’s too much?”

“You! This. Why do you always just....think of everything?” she says, and she’s steadfastly working herself into a tizzy.

“Tiger...”

“How? How do you remember these things? How do you fucking remember that I had a meeting with my boss today, a meeting that I told you about two weeks ago? Why do you make a whole other bowl of salad for me, why do you remember that I hate green onions?”

“Because I care about you kid,” he shrugs.

Tiger is angry, but she’s also at a loss for words. Bill’s genuineness, his honesty, will do that. For as much as she struggles to be vulnerable. Bill shows that side of himself openly. She doesn’t even know why she’s so angry. Bill watches her for a minute, but she’s kind of just bug-eyed so he goes back to his cutting board and starts calmly chopping his little mushrooms again.

“I don’t like it,” she mutters after a long pause.

“Too bad,” he shrugs non-chalantly. Tiger glares at him.

“Too bad?” she seethes.

“Too bad,” he repeats.

“Stop it,” she says.

“No.”

“Bill, I mean it. Stop always trying to--”

“No.”

“I’m not finished,” she stamps her foot, “Stop being such--”

“No.” he says again, “Tiger, this is what I do.This is how I am. I care about the people that matter to me.”

“Well I don’t ma--”

“Yes you do. You matter to me. So I suggest you put on your big girl panties, and fucking deal with it,” he says. And that’s final. Tiger is taken aback at his tone, at the way his face suddenly got serious--but then in a heartbeat, it’s relaxed again.

“Now, do you want mustard on your burger, or ketchup?” he asks. Tiger is petulantly silent, glaring at him.

“Tiger.” he warns, holding up the hamburger bun.

“Shouldn’t you already know?” she huffs in annoyance, going to the fridge and grabbing the wine. She swigs it right from the bottle as she boosts herself up on the kitchen counter. Bill goes to the fridge and grabs the mayo--her favourite--putting a thick schmear on the bun.

“God, get fucked asshole,” she mutters. Bill just grabs her face, plants a noisy kiss on her cheek as she shrieks and swats him.

[chaserainbows]

❀ What has made you completely lose your chill?

the salty af munday meme

I've talked a little about this before on my other blog but one of the few times I lost my cool in a RP was the first time I used Kasai on Discord because like

One of the superficial traits you tend to learn quickly about him is that his favorite color is pink and he tends to wear lots of pink in casual outfits, which is really just one of his many interests because you don't see people acting like having blue or red as your favorite color is a whole personality for example but NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO people just can't be normal about it

Like first there were the jokes about how dainty and delicate he is (even though another superficial trait that people tend to learn about him fast is that he's really athletic) and the way everyone would treat him as a uwu soft boy that needs to be protected uwu, which like would've been fine if mildly annoying if the other characters were underestimating him in-character but then whenever I talked about his interest in baseball or the fact that he can actually hold his own in a fight really well people would be like OH NOOOOOOOOOO YOU'RE GIVING HIM TOO MANY PERSONALITY TRAITS or even imply that I was godmodding and making him good at everything even though he's really just a jock with good money management skills

like is wearing pink a skill???????????

Oh but it gets WAY worse, then started the jokes about how he was a disappointment to his parents because of his fashion choices, how he wasn't 'badass' enough to fit in with the other guys, how he was secretly a sexual deviant that wanted to fuck every male character in the cast or how the straight guys were interested in him because he was 'basically a woman', which were when I was like "okay that's annoying" and then people started calling him a tranny which was when I was like "okay fuck you" and kicked like 8 people out of my friend circle some of which are still whining about how unreasonable I am to this day

But the ones that were blatantly homophobic and just looking for an excuse to act creepy about the mere suggestion that a guy was GNC (even though he really just likes pink????????) were just the first, there were also the ones that were just as creepy and stereotypical about him but instead acted like it was a good thing and projected on him the idea that he was basically a stan twitter twink stereotype only to be outraged when his personality was completely different from what they imagined because LIKING PINK ISN'T A WHOLE PERSONALITY OH MY GOD in fact it's really sus to act like he has to be a carbon copy of James Charles just because of his sexuality and favorite color especially when they couldn't name any of his more obvious personality traits like how do you talk about Kasai and completely fail to mention that he's grumpy

In short writing Kasai made me cut off like 12 homophobes from my friend circle because people CANNOT be normal about a guy that wears pink

[lady-of-glass-and-bone]

Vampires Don’t Sparkle

For @autumnleaves1991-blog​ Writer Wednesday and @flightlessangelwings​pride weekly writing challenge!

Prompt: Glitter and/or “I’ll always be by your side.”

Pairing: Max Phillips x werewolf!OFC

Warnings: Language, minor fight, angst, fluffy ending, Max can be soft when he wants to and I will prove it. ALSO. My blatant love for pretty dresses because the second dress in the link is just *chefs kisses* and what I imagine Doll in.

A/N: Soooo, this particular oc doesn’t have a name yet, so Doll is the filler name I’ve been using while writing the actual fic. Doll has been a werewolf for about 15 years before she met Max and this is sometime in the future after they realize that they don’t, in fact, want to kill each other and it’s just love.

“Max Phillips! I swear to whatever gods there are I am GOING to stake your sorry ass!”

“My very fine, sorry ass?”

“Fuck you! If you wanna play dirty then I’m going to tell the whole office you do sparkle in the sun” she huffs, glaring at the garment bag draped on the couch as she walks by it.

She is not going. She told him a million times. He knows, he fucking knows, what she hates about this time of year, about this stupid annual party for a stupid thing to celebrate.

“Doll!” Max’s voice all but whines after her, his steps casual, like this is just another simple negotiation with a nervous potential client.

“No, I told you! I explained it and you said, and I quote “it’s absolutely fine babe, no big deal“ your exact words!” she tosses the words like barbs over her shoulder at him.

“Okay, I know that but-”

“No. Big. Deal.” she turns on her heel, stopping Max from coming any closer with a scowl, challenging him with his own words.

He could drag this out, make it seem not so bad, bargain and maybe make a deal but he gets the distinct sense that this is not a particular bear (well, wolf actually) he should poke.

“Okay, don’t come, it is no big deal” he smirks like he means it but her shoulders don’t relax “I’ll let sleeping dogs lie.”

That gets a sigh and an eye roll out of her. And she slams the bedroom door in his face.

Still mad, not seething, but there’s nothing volatile in her scent that washes in the air around him when he turns away from the closed door and he’ll take it.

He gets it. Why she doesn’t like this particular holiday and what it means. Well, at least what it use to mean back when she was alone. It’s a raw nerve that he hasn’t figured out a way to talk himself around yet.

Listening for any encouraging sounds beyond the bedroom door and finding nothing but her heartbeat and the shuffle of her body on the sheets.

Maybe next year.

                                     -----------------------------

Doll stays curled up under the heavy comforter until the sound of his footsteps fade away down the hall outside of the apartment, the soft click of the elevator button making her jaw clench.

It’s not Max she is mad at, not even at the garment bag she hadn’t even peeked inside of.

No, there is nothing angry inside of her anymore, just . . . sad. Tired even. It’s all an empty imitation of the burning feeling she had the first few years after she was changed.

The scars that remain from it are old and faint but they pinch and ache at the memory. The reminder that no matter how many years go by nothing will change for her and how is it harder now that she had someone to share it with?

Shouldn’t it feel lighter knowing that Max won’t be ground away into nothing by time like rocks under the weight of the ocean?

Fuck this. Fucking fuck this.

Hurling away the covers, she gets out of bed and strides toward the door, shedding her baggy shirt and shorts on the way until she’s standing in nothing but her underwear, glowering at the garment bag.

Whatever sits inside of it will undoubtedly fit her perfectly because that’s just so Max. She anticipates red, tight, and barely there when she tugs at the zipper of the bag. None of which she has anything against but it’s all more Max than her and oh holy shit-

That is not at all what she had expected but okay. It’s more than okay. It’s sheer black and velvet and beading with a slit that crawls nearly up to the waist line and a high collar with light sleeves and she kind of can’t wait to put it on. If she can figure out how to.

                              --------------------------------------

The city is loud and pressing as all cities are for her senses and on New Year’s Eve inside an elaborately decorated building that vaguely reminds her of Die Hard? She might as well have brought noise canceling headphones.

She has no idea how Max does this on a regular basis.

It’s all smells of pricey hor d’oeuvres, bubbles fizzing in glasses of champagne and the ebb and flow of the crowds. But there’s no reason to text Max and ask where he is in this maze because hunting each other down the old fashion way is much more fun.

Barely fifteen minutes in, she keeps track, and technically she scented him first but the look on Max’s face when he spots her over the shoulder of the person he was talking to is worth letting it slide.

He gives some quick excuse and makes his way over to her, barely hiding the giddiness in is step and she really should tell him how fucking adorable that dimple is when he smiles.

“I’m sorry I threatened to stake your-” her words get cut off when he wraps her up in a hug that absolutely would have crushed her ribs were she human.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m just really glad you came” he breathes the words into her ear, cheek pressed snugly to hers in an imitation of her usual greetings after long days apart.

“Still, I know you just wanted me to have fun, I shouldn’t have threatened your very fine ass” she slips her arms just as tightly around him.

“Doll, if I wanted you to really have fun we would be as far from here as possible” Max pulls back only far enough to look her in the eyes, grinning now.

“You’re such a dick, Phillips” she huffs, tone holding nothing but affection.

“Well, you also pulled the ‘sparkly vampire’ card earlier so . . .” his hands slide down to the velvet fabric of the high-waisted skirt, dangerously close to her ass.

“Well, you are kind of sparkling right now after you rubbed off half the glitter on my face.”

He frowns, eyes narrowing and looking from one side of her face to the other, the silver flecks of glitter uneven from one cheek to the other as the amusement in her eyes grows.

“Hmmm, doesn’t matter” he declares, dipping his face back down so it’s level with hers “I’m just happy you’re by my side this year.”

She grabs his chin, foreheads pressed together, and rubs at the glitter on the apple of his cheek with her thumb, a light, dizzy feeling swelling up in her chest. It’s tinged with fear, like it always is after another year passes, but now it doesn’t feel like she’ll drift away.

She has an anchor now, an occasionally full of himself and slightly bratty anchor, but also a thoughtful, caring and secretly loving one.

“I’ll always be by your side, Max” she tells him and makes sure he feels it when she presses her lips to his.

[missfinefeather]

I Am My Monster

Okay, got my emotional support bear in place. Hope that helps me through this.

Starting this the night before, but I may not even finish this post the same night.

Just getting a head start so we can start the final episode too.

Alright, into the fray!

--------------------

0:41 - Well, that’s a very pink kaiju 0.0; Hope no one was crushed in that transformation.

Gog, so Steven can just, turn into that? Weird.

0:54 - It’s a little late for breathing exercizes... then again, what do I know?

1:18 - Jegus, just casually destroy the temple statue like that? That thing has been in the show forever and it feels like to goes down without much fanfare 0.0;

1:35 - Sigh... We can’t exactly get steven on the couch!

We’d need for a pretty big couch in that case.

2:02 - I mean, Steven was probably attacking blindly in the first place, not sure if blinding him is doing him much good.

2:05 - Oh come on! Wesley survived like, 3 of those when Andre the Giant did that to him!

2:21 - Oh yeah, did we every find out why Lapis is so OP compared to other Lapises? Kind of felt like there was a mystery going on there.

2:29 - Yeah, a good old fashioned mind meld would be nice about now...

2:35 - ...yeah, that’s usually Steven’s job, isn’t it?

2:41 - Ooof, I dunno if you four could really help here.

I mean, you have the powers for the job but, at the same time, it’s you four.

Literally all of you have tried to kill him at some point.

2:54 - PFFFFT!

Yeah, there always seems to be an event happening when they show up. That’s a good point xDDD

3:17 - Yeah no. You’re using the power of a diamond against another diamond who’s resisting.

Hey, couldn’t you like, connect with him in the spirit realm? Like what Steven did for you in Reunited?

Hey, what even was that? I think Steven only used it like, twice and it never came up again.

3:26 - In comes Blue with the Anti-depressants.

4:02 - OH GOG!

JUST BLASTED WHITE’S MIND!

4:23 - OH FUCK!

DAMN YELL SHOCK WAVES!

4:33 - I thought the diamond ship was going to fall on the house...

Well, Steven is free. I hope Connie is evacuating the town. He might head there...

It’ll be Ocean Town again before we know it...

4:43 - Oh gog, even Garnet unfused...

Jegus, everyone was decimated in this fucking battle! I’m surprised we didn’t get any poofings!

REALLY hope Connie is evacuating the town!

4:55 - THE CLUSTER!

I know you can’t defeat him but, I hope you can hold him down at least! keep in him one place for a while...

5:08 - “DON’T HOLD ME BACK, BRO! I CAN TAKE EM!”

5:28 - How many horrible futures is Sapphire seeing right now...

5:42 - Is Greg actually stepping up?

I wonder if he’s going to live up to the father Steven actually wanted.

Or maybe not, I dunno. I have NO idea how they are going to save Steven here.

5:53 - I mean... Yeah... yeah, pretty much...

Well, at least the diamonds recognize this at least. To some extent.

6:26 - Again, at least they are acknowledge it!

6:44 - Damn, Connie got a point! They are just making it about themselves!

Connie’s taking a level in badass here!

Then again, it’s easy to be a badass when you didn’t have to fight Steven just now.

7:06 - I LOVE this speech! Gog, I missed Connie.

It’s so fitting this is coming from her! She understood Steven the most out of all of them!

Ah, gog damn, am I actually enjoying this episode? I guess it helps that Steven can’t speak right now and the other characters aren’t being sidelined in favor of Pink Diamond’s the Wall.

7:19 - You do, Garnet? You have a plan?

Huh, I guess you just needed to uncloud your mind a bit.

--------------------

There’s, 4 minutes left in this episode. That’s... a lot of a time for a cliffhanger.

Are they really going to save Steven by the end of this episode?

Am i wasting the climax on a Stealth Blog?

...I am so wasting the climax on a stealth blog.

You know what? We can’t do this like this.

Present Missfinefeather will pick this up when she’s ready! See ya then!

Past MissFinefeather, out!

[sunlightbabe]

if you were måneskin's stylist for the day, what outfits would you give them if you a) had to dress them from your wardrobe only or b) could give them any outfits you've ever seen pictures of (from shows, movies, fashion, whatever)? anyway, your blog is such a nice space to be; i check in on it every day and always love reading your tags. thank you for setting this whole thing up, and being so lovely in general! <3

this answer is!!! super delayed and for that i apologize!!! you are super sweet little gray and your kind words here really brought a smile to my face when i needed it, so thank you so much my beloved 🥺💛

but i have. thought about this so much so let's go under the cut because i attached Pictures:

FROM MY OWN WARDROBE

damiano: we know he's comfortable in dresses, so i would put him in my very comfy and very flowy plaid dress. that, a layered choker, tons of rings, and my hand-me-down kim kardashian buckle high heeled boots because I Just Know he would fucking rock them

ethan: something more casual to show off his gorgeous tum. my fave crop top, some light jeans for the color contrast, a heart choker which i knOW HE HAS WE HAVE THE SAME ONE, and my black ankle high slight wedge boots

thomas: for our best boy guitarist, i would dress him in my vaguely 70s-esque yellow top with tassles, a pair of dark blue jeans (not pictured, how great they make ur ass look), some chunky brown boots, and a loose string choker that you can wear so many ways, but for thomas, a simple wrap around

victoria: listen. listen. i couldnt find my black lacy bralet, otherwise i would have worn that. but!!! knee high blue velvet boots, the worlds shortest pleather mini skirt, a loose black tank top, another layered choker and a bunch of rings

FROM OTHER STUFF (specifically, i'm going with some of my favorite movies)

damiano: tyler durden from fight club, specifically the floral shirt + red leather jacket look. give him the yellow tinted shades and some messy hair and ???? ur welcome

ethan: jareth'a blue suit from the masquerade scene in labyrinth. it's elaborate and extravagant and ethan would pull it off so so well

thomas: cher's yellow plaid outfit from clueless. he would look. so good, i just need you to trust me, this boy needs to wear more yellow i'm Convinced

victoria: westley from the princess bride. that very first outfit that's just a flowy, deep v-neck white shirt and some pants. she would fucking Nail It

[thebeauregardbros]

LFRP: Alus Beauregard | Crystal Server

THE BASICS ––– –– –

Occupation: Free Paladin | Field Medic | Café Proprietor

Hobbies: Fashion | Tea Brewing | Pastry Creation | Jewelry Making | Reading Faerie Tales

Race: Miqo’te (Sunseeker Descent)

Sexuality/Romance: Asexual / Panromantic

Relationship Status: Single; never married

Languages: Eorzean | Common. Understands all languages; possesses The Echo.

Alignment: Neutral Good

PERSONAL ––– –– –

Alias: “Alice” (💢)

Residence: The Goblet, Ward 8 : Sultana’s Breath Apartments; Wing 1; Apartment #21

Place of Work: Café Nobilitea: Lavender Beds Ward 20, Lot #8 | Anywhere his Eorzean Grand Company sends him.

Birthplace: ??? (Grew up in Eorzea; particularly in the Thanalan area)

Fears: Slugs | Failing to keep his comrades safe | Failing to save his enemies from themselves

APPEARANCE ––– –– –

Height: “Tall for a miqo’te” (5′8″/173cm)

Build: Barrel-chested, muscular; untoned muscles | Long legs, wide shoulders, slender hips.

Age: Unknown; nameday 20 yrs ago. Approximately 23 summers old.

Gender: Male

Skin tone: Tan; Gold Undertone

Eye color: Heterochromia; Deep Fuschia (Right) | Golden Yellow (Left)

Hair color: Golden Blonde

Body Mods: Pierced ears.

Distinguishing Marks: [SPOILER] Large amounts of large-scale bruises and scars all over his body. They are almost always covered up with his clothing. There are no visible scars on his face, neck, or hands.

Common Accessories: Large amounts of gold jewelry; Excessive rings, bracelets, pocket watch chains, earrings, tiaras, circlets, crowns | Large amounts of fresh and/or fake flowers; On his lapel, coming out of his pockets, warn as a flower crown, tucked in his hair, tucked amongst the buttons on his outfits, etc.

BODY LANGUAGE ––– –– –

Walk: Excellent posture; he carries his upper body with strength, while his legs nearly cross in his stride like an elegant female runway model.

Voice: His voice is often strong, clear, deep, and commanding, with the slightest hinge of huskiness. While off-guard, however, his voice cracks into a higher pitched and goofier voice. His quiet tones are very soft and sweet, like a warm fuzzy blanket wrapping you up in it on a cold winter’s night. (Voiceclaim/reference: Johnny Yong Bosch, particularly his roles as Vash from Trigun and Zero from Marvel vs. Capcom.)

Tics or Mannerisms: His speech consists of a shakepearian inspired word usage with a consistent disuse of contractions, similar to Urianger. | He tends to step-dance or become especially physically clumsy while nervous in social situations. | He will elegantly dodge all physical contact, even minor, unless he is comfortable enough with you to make the first contact.

Smell: Gardenia (Jasmine) / Cuttlebone dust

Posture: Constantly straight and erect; shoulders rolled back, chest out. Never looks truly relaxed, even while sitting. A model of good posture.

Disabilities: [SPOILER] Surface numbness on his scar tissue. Mild numbness in his left-hand fingertips.

RELATIONSHIPS ––– –– –

Romantic Partner: (None.)

Parents: Gwenneg Beauregard (Adoptive) (Deceased)

Siblings: Arc Beauregard (Twin Brother) (Alive)

Children: (None.)

Extended Family: (Unknown.)

Pets: Various unnamed wild songbirds and a fledgling Dodo that followed him home. He keeps feeding them, so they keep coming back, but he does not claim ownership of any of them. | He has also developed a relationship with a wild white horse he’s named Marion who consistently comes to his call. | His military-issued chocobo is named Erminia.

Other: Alus considers everyone he meets to be a friend.

PERSONALITY TRAITS ––– –– –

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Addictive / In Between / Nonaddictive

RP HOOKS ––– –– –

Café Nobilitea: Alus is the proprietor of a western-style teahouse with a distinct theme for elegance, royalty, and other-worldliness - His café is bright, full of flowers, and always playing soft kind-hearted piano music; the type of place a person could become lost in whence they’ve become tired of the grueling and dark outer world; a real heaven and haven. He often spends his free time there and enjoys sitting with his customers to get to know them.

Grand Company Militia: Alus is a very active member with the Eorzean grand companies in fighting against the Garlean empire and any other threats to the peace there might be upon the world. It’s very possible your character might have teamed up with him at some point in active duty.

The Prince on a White Horse: Alus patrols random fields often in order to keep the peace. Your character or someone your character knows might have been saved by the mysterious ‘Prince on a white horse’ while being attacked by bandits or beastmen, who oft leaves without giving his name.

A Fellow Warrior Of Light: Alus has helped out the Scions of the Seventh Dawn on occasion due to his status as a Warrior of Light; one of many.

LOOKING FOR ––– –– –

Long-Term ANYTHING!: Friendships, rivalries, casual familiarities, romances, anything. Alus has lived a long life without any PC RP interactions, and I feel his writing suffers for it. I want someone who will be there for the long run and get to know him. I want stories to develop. I want Alus to grow because of other people.

Open-minded villains!: Alus has the patience of a saint and will befriend the nastiest of criminals no matter what. Alus will stop them from directly committing serious crimes he may be there to witness (murder, kidnapping, robbery, etc.), but will ultimately be very forgiving and calm when dealing with these topics. He wants to genuinely make a connection with people he doesn’t understand and strives his best to soften anybody’s heart, no matter how hard. His ultimate goal is to change their ways for the better through patience and understanding.

Platonic flirts!: Alus has a lot of love to give and happy to give it to nearly everyone and anyone. He throws around the words ‘I love you’ quite easily, and if he is especially crushing on someone, he will hold their hands and hug them openly despite his normal dislike of physical touch. He is most happy when he has a large circle of queerplatonic relationships, but will be absolutely exclusive to their ‘steady’ when he has made that romantic commitment.

Distant family members!: Alus knows very little of the Beauregards; his adoptive father and surnamesake did not speak of them much. Alus is fascinated with Elezen culture and considers himself one of them. He would be incredibly happy to find anyone with the same last name who would welcome him to his adopted ancestor’s information.

ADVENTURE!: Once in awhile, let’s RP somewhere other than a unmoving place. Let’s RP in a dungeon. Let’s RP while doing gold saucer chores. Let’s RP while talking to random minor NPCs. Let’s RP while doing something other than just sitting! It can help a lot with improvisation and keep the creative juices flowing.

ABOUT THE MUN ––– –– –

Who I am: Hey, my name’s Will. I’m a 24 y/o prep cook living in Alaska. My family’s straight-up wiccan, I got 3 black cats, I love super flashy ridiculous fashion, 1980s comedies, and my favorite game’s Bayonetta. I’m a queer Aquarius with mild ADHD. Buddhism and pacifism are super important to me. I love the McElroys?? and uh. I yell in caps a lot. i WILL make you a playlist of music if you ask for recommendations, don’t fuckin tempt me. I’m a casual goofus fuck. here’s my ‘me’ tag on my personal,

Server: Balmung, Crystal Data Center

Time Zone: Alaska (GMT-8)

Availability: 11AM-2AM (subject to change)

Writing Style: Rapidfire! 95WPM. I like to RP just like I type normally - as thoughts pop up, I type ‘em, just like if I was talking. I’m not a big fan of waiting for turns; I have an anxiety disorder and that particularly makes me extremely anxious! However, I am happy to do short paragraph RP with you if we’ve been RPing long enough. Huge paragraph RP is 100% OK on Discord!

Platforms: In-game(preferred) or Discord.

Restrictions ––– –– –

No ERP!

No Permadeath! I really do not want to RP with anyone who intends to eventually kill off their character, either. This is a legitimate trigger for me.

RP Fighting...? I’ve never done this before. I’m not a fan of physical injury so it’s unlikely I would want to, either. But if the situation really calls for it, I’m open to learning. I will not allow you to permanently disfigure or disable my character - temporary injury is alright, but please talk to me about it first.

Mature Themes...? This is okay for me. Swearing, murder, prostitution, drugs.. I’m an adult! I don’t mind these themes being mentioned or being used as a backdrop to a prompt. Alus isn’t a fan of these things though! So just keep that in mind.

Sexual Assault...? For the most part, NO. However, a forceful kiss? An inappropriate touching that stops as soon as my character says no? Maybe. Ask me beforehand and be clear about what you’re thinking, no surprises.

More Info ––– –– –

Click here for Alus’ RP blog and all the memes and asks I’ve written for him!

tags;

@ffxiv-crystal-rp @crystalxivrp @mooglemeet​

[fromherlips]

you’re gonna live forever in me

did y’all REALLY think my ass wasn’t going to do something for this? i remember thinking that 2019 was so far away when i finished ‘in your atmosphere’ and now it’s here and i’m here and we’re here and i can’t believe that time has passed like this. in full disclosure: this is completely self-indulgent. i haven’t written anything in almost a year but i couldn’t resist. so, here we are, pals. many, many years later. happy end of nyfw!

New York Fashion Week was a spectacle that Eva had dreamed about since she was a kid. Growing up, it was a week long event she strived to be a part of, someway, somehow. She wanted to live and breathe the same air as the editors and buyers, cramped in the corner in standing room only or sat in the frow, brushing shoulders with fashion’s elite. It happened twice a year and determined trends, styles, moods, personalities, and so much more.

Eva’s first fashion week was just two weeks after she moved to the city. She didn’t know a single soul, but went to shows to cover for her boss, an influencer with enough clout to land her in the front row. Eva sat rows behind, not important enough to land a coveted seat, but she was just happy to be there. Things were different now. Seats were filled by Instagram following and not status in the industry, but she was stuck in the whirlwind of Manhattan (despite subletting a closet-less room in Crown Heights). Eva was left taking notes on her phone, geared up to write a review for her boss’ blog after their next show, typing furiously on her outdated iPhone (by New York standards) in the back of a luxury Lyft while they carted off to the next show.

By the end of her first day carting around from show to show and trying to keep up with her new boss who didn’t talk very much–not even on her Instagram Stories–but seemed to know anyone and everyone at the shows and events they attended, Eva was exhausted. She collapsed onto her stiff mattress, the cheapest she could find on Wayfair without blowing through the meager savings she had from college, too tired to go to the fridge to get water and heat up the pasta she had made the night before, and too burnt out to talk to her roommates who were perched on the couch watching whatever they were binging on Netflix at the time.

With her clothes still on, Eva rested her hand on her cheek, careful not to transfer any makeup onto her comforter. She squeezed her eyes shut, the feeling she’d been trying to suppress for months creeping up. It came to her in the moments when her guard was down, when she was too tired to fight the thoughts that plagued her mind. But in her moments of weakness, her mind always traveled back to the moment in his bedroom, both crumpled on the floor, sobbing like they’d never sobbed before. Back to the green-eyed, floppy-haired boy with tattoos scattered across his skin, the same skin her fingers had skimmed over, the same skin she felt beneath her, on top of her. Back to the person she loved the most in this world, the only person she wanted to curl up next to after a long day.

Harry was everywhere. There were the obvious places. On the radio when she took cars with her boss (she couldn’t afford them on her own), playing when she browsed through stores while she tried to make friends, on posters around the city promoting their newest single, one that Eva couldn’t bear to listen to anymore. He was in the Chloe perfume she kept on her nightstand, in the threads of her Wildfox sweatpants she debated on donating before she moved, in the sketchbooks she hadn’t touched since she moved. Harry was everything and then he was nothing and Eva was the only person to blame.

She hated that word, blame. But what else was she supposed to call it? She knew it was for the best, somewhere deep down within herself, even if she couldn’t recognize it anymore. But knowing it was right didn’t make it less painful. Knowing it was right didn’t make the image of his face, puffy and red and damp with tears, disappear from her memory. It didn’t make her stop missing him. It didn’t change anything, but it kept her hopeful, even if it didn’t feel that way most of the time.

Eva felt sad and lost and lonely and like she was failing at everything she set out to accomplish. She wanted New York City more than anything she wanted in this entire life. But she knew it wouldn’t be easy. So she cried into her brand new sheets after her first day of New York Fashion Week. She cried for Harry, she cried for herself, she cried for the unknown.

That was the last time she had cried during Fashion Week. Her life in New York still brought her to tears, but she was starting to learn that it was normal in her twenties and the breakdown she had during her fifth month living in the city was a right of passage that she accomplished early on. It took her six months to feel okay with herself, but not once did she doubt the decision she had made to move. She knew the city would knock her on her ass, both figuratively and literally (tequila, stilettos, and cobblestone in Soho don’t mix), but it was worth it, wasn’t it?

By her second spring/summer fashion week the next year, Eva felt confident in herself, in her work, in who she was becoming. She sketched more, she made friends, she invested in a mattress topper to make her sleep schedule less painful. She had also started dating a model (unplanned) who lived near her office (convenient) and had blonde hair and brown eyes and not a single tattoo anywhere on his body. She thought she had loved Paul but when they broke up ten months later because of distance (the irony didn’t miss her), Eva didn’t cry, didn’t dwell, didn’t spend months wondering if it was the wrong choice. She wasn’t angry or hurt or confused, she just felt lonely again in the big city, something easily solvable by brunch, happy hour, or casual movie nights with friends.

By fashion week in 2019, Eva had been in the city for over three years and was still settling into her position at Milly. She loved working as an assistant and adored styling for the now defunct print magazine that likely still owed her some money, but being a design assistant at Milly was everything she could have asked for as a 25 (going on 26) year-old. She was still close with Jillian and her old boss, which is how she somehow managed to score an invite to a Conde Nast party on the second night of fashion week.

She had gotten a dress lent from a PR company thanks to Jill and somehow managed to figure out her hair and makeup on her own. Eva painted her lips with crimson red, a stark contrast from the cobalt blue of her dress and white frothy collar adorning her neck. She’d slicked her hair back for ease (and because it was admittedly a bit dirty), hoping it would stay in place throughout the night so she wouldn’t nervously play with it. She wasn’t sure what to expect from the party aside from free food and drinks and hopefully some entertainment.

Eva spent the first hour wandering around with a glass of champagne in her hand, making eye contact with people she vaguely knew from other events or photoshoots but didn’t speak to out of fear of conversational rejection, something she knew well from living in Los Angeles for so long. It didn’t bother her, she liked the people watching and was just happy to be there, truthfully.

A seemingly familiar face caught her eye, but she figured she was just seeing things. Forever a lightweight, she was already two glasses of champagne deep on an almost empty stomach and was seeing things. Hallucinating. It could have been anybody.

She switched to water and grabbed a few hors d'oeuvres, silently chewing in the corner of the space while she tried to sober up. This wasn’t the night for reminiscing. This was a Conde-fucking-Nast New York Fashion Week Party, for gods sake.

At least half an hour had passed and Eva had made the rounds again after meeting up with Jillian and one of her industry friends for a legitimate conversation on Fashion Week plans and not something superficial (which was gratefully appreciated after her years of fashion week attendance). She was in search of another drink now that she was sure she was done seeing things.

Unfortunately, Eva couldn’t make it to one of the waiters making the rounds before she saw the familiar face again. This time, she couldn’t blame it on the alcohol because she knew it was real. He was alone now, swirling what was left in his champagne glass. He looked the same, yet entirely different, and Eva felt transported to a different time. A time when he was hers and she was his and they were tangled underneath the sheets of her bed in that shitty Los Angeles apartment that was too small for her and her things and their makeshift life together.

She felt nauseous then sad then nauseous again. Was the room spinning? It felt like it was spinning. She wondered if this moment would ever happen, if fate would put the two of them back in the room together (even if fate went by the name of Niall, her meddling friend that wanted his power couple back together). She even thought about what she might say–what she might do–if she was put into this situation. But now she was here in a pretty dress and wanted to bolt as far away from the boy whose heart she broke so many years ago, the boy who wrote a Grammy nominated album on how she’d ripped his heart out, the boy who probably deserved better but also needed to grow up.

Despite the fear and nausea, Eva felt herself walking towards the person she’d never thought she would see again. Did he see her? She thought he looked her way, but he didn’t start sprinting so maybe he’d looked right past her. She was still the same Eva, but her hair was shorter and her cheeks more angular. But then she could see his eyes fixated on her, watching her as she maneuvered through the party guests that seemed to gather in his atmosphere.

She didn’t have a line planned. Was she just going to say “hi” or “hello” or just silently stare and hope that was a sufficient greeting? This worried her as she approached him, her feet planting straight in front of the boy she used to love.

“Eva,” he said, no greeting required. “What’re you...hi.”

She tucked a rogue curl behind her ear, sweeping it back from her chin.

“Harry,” she replied, her lips curling into a sweet smile. “Congrats on the new album coming out in a couple of months. It’s nice to see you back with the boys.”

Congrats on the new album? Is that all she could say?

“I...thank you,” he replied. “It’s nice to, erm, be back,” he told her.

“Right, I can imagine,” she said, her heart thumping harder in her chest. Was she okay? Or was seeing Harry after all these years setting her into panic mode? “You lads are close. But, I-uh...how’ve you been, Harry?”

How have you been? Are you serious, Eva? What the fuck, she thought.

“Same old,” he replied.”What about you? I didn’t, um, didn’t know you’d be here?”

She quirked her brow. “In New York or at the party?”

“The party,” he replied. “Niall...he told me you were here a while ago.”

She nodded. Niall was their unofficial liaison, it appeared.

“I saw that you moved here,” she said. “Those damn trending headlines. Niall mentioned it once or twice or a dozen times as well.”

“Just needed a change of pace,” he explained with a shrug. “I’ve always liked visiting, Figured there could be no harm in living here for a bit.

“It’s a good place to be,” she agreed.

She knew she was staring, but there was something so mesmerizing about Harry. She was no stranger to his good looks and undeniable charm. The thing about Harry was that she still saw him everywhere. She saw his many haircuts, his new tattoos, the shift in his style. She saw his attempt to grow facial hair and the 90s haircut and the mismatched rings adorned on his fingers. But she still took the time to study his face and take him in for all that he was, finally in front of her after all of those years.

It didn’t escape Eva that this was how they first met. Well, kind of. He was drunk and slurring but still trying to be as helpful as he could be. Eva was burnt out and fighting imposter syndrome, wondering what this pop star was doing talking to her in the room full of people who were infinitely more interesting than she was. But now she was drunk (or at least buzzed) standing in front of the same boy in his pastel blue pants and ruffled shirt for the first time since that night in his bedroom, the night that changed everything for them, whether she liked it or not.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been staring, but Eva snapped out of her daze when she heard Harry speak again.

“Coffee,” he said, beginning to play with the rings on his fingers.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“I mean...we should get coffee. Or smoothies. Or…” he stammered, letting his voice trail off.

“I’m pretty busy this week,” she replied.

“Fuck, right,” he swore. “Fashion week...you’re right.”

“But give me your new number and I’ll let you know when I’m free when this week from hell ends,” she added quickly, fishing her phone out of her clutch. She tapped her feet nervously while Harry typed his number in. Niall had tried giving it to her but she didn’t trust herself with it. She’d have one too many drinks and say things she didn’t mean. Or worse, she’d let it sit and rot in her contacts, too afraid of what could happen.

Eva wanted to linger in his presence, soaking up every last second of his aura. But instead, she slipped her clutch back underneath her arm, taking two steps backwards as she waved goodbye, faintly smiling at the boy in front of her.

“Good luck, Ev,” he told her as she walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

It felt like she was walking through a daydream. She could barely register anything around her. She merely grabbed another glass of champagne, pressing the glass against her lips and leaving a deep red stain in its place. She found a semi-abandoned corner of the room, sipping slowly while she tried to process the moment. It was short, no longer than five minutes, but it felt as if she had been standing in front of Harry for a lifetime.

For so long, she wondered what she would say to him, what she would do, how she would feel. But nothing could prepare her for the actual moment when their lives collided again, intersecting like they had when they were nineteen and drunk and tired and two entirely different people. 

Their moment was over, but it didn’t feel as such. She felt something in the pit of her stomach, albeit faint, but it was there. It very well could have been the champagne, or hope, or a combination of both. Harry Styles had managed to orbit back into her life, or hers into his, but this time it felt different. She felt different. And that had to mean something.

[askiisoft]

FAN ART FRIDAY: The Most Dangerous Dame

(Banner art by @ZeeboonInc.)

...And now, we return to you to your regularly scheduled programming. 

This week is a tribute to Katana ZERO’s final boss, the enigmatic NULL remnant, Headhunter. So much of her story mirrored Zero’s own—a reluctant killer at the mercy of her own crippling addiction—that players exhausted every alternative to killing her as she crawled pitifully along the floor. 

“Maybe you can spare her if you picked up some Chronos in the Slaughterhouse level?” 

“Maybe there’s a hidden dialogue branch where she tells you what’s inside the vault instead?”

“Maybe there’s a secret if you let her kill you enough times in a row?”

Ultimately, as she predicted, only one of them could leave that bunker alive. Today we salute the warrior woman who never gave up the fight, even in the face of certain doom.

[WARNING: Contains plot spoilers for ‘Katana ZERO’]

by @moryu

“I win, fucker.”

Zero’s precognition was established early on, but seldom treated as more than an in-universe lampshading of the rapid trial-and-error formula that dated back to 2009′s Tower of Heaven. 

It was Headhunter who revealed the full extent of what that power felt like: venting her anger through heinous atrocities only to reset time as if they never happened, or watching her opponent make the same blunder dozens of times, yet feeling her own willpower erode with each ‘do-over’. Her lackadaisical attitude towards death was something totally alien, and its implications re-contextualized much of the game’s earlier plot points. Even here, it seems she’s casually committing suicide just to fight the battle over again, having finally found a worthy opponent.

Just like with Zero’s purported forehead wound and The Dragon’s prototypical facial burns, fans seem to have given Headhunter a prophetic neck scar, as if taunting her foes, “yeah, cut me right here...if you can, that is”.

—

by @55_yamisan

I must confess that I’m not really into the whole “wedding dress” fetish that a lot of fans enjoy, but not even such formal wear could diminish Headhunter’s badass persona. 

Someone who wears her decade-old combat fatigues and mask in public clearly doesn’t care much about fashion. Still, sometimes being an assassin requires a disguise, and I imagine this is the extent of what Headhunter was willing to put on to infiltrate her target’s fancy evening gala; take or leave it, Al-Qasim. 

The juxtaposition of an an elegant neon dress and black garters with her signature beret, oversized zip-up jumper and massive fuck-off carbine is perfect for a proud, no-nonsense femme fatale who would never embarrass herself by rocking out to EDM or admitting to liking anime.

—

by @stanio_kz

In Eastern mythologies, there is a concept of the ‘red string of fate’, an invisible thread that connects every person from birth to their destined soulmate. For those fated to have their lives cut short, however, it instead links them to the source of their inexorable doom...

@stanio_kz’s illustration of this concept is both beautifully composed and intriguing in its symbolism. The cord around Headhunter’s neck obviously references her grisly fate, but could the two ends leading off-panel indicate a branching narrative, perhaps a reality in which Headhunter won her duel with Zero and lived on to take her revenge? On this subject, the artist says, “It really doesn't make any sense, I just wanted to draw them ...”

—

by @ZeeboonInc.

I don’t think it’s possible to capture the essence of Headhunter’s fighting style—constant teleporting, knife charges, and firing deadly beams from every angle—in a still image, but Zeeboon comes pretty close with these dynamic poses. 

Before her shockingly pretty face made her the darling of fan artists everywhere, this interpretation of Headhunter in mask and full garb represented what NULLs everywhere must have seemed like: a gaunt, faceless harbinger of death, unable to reasoned with or defeated by anyone but another Chronos user.

—

by @DEL_streamer

Those of you who follow me on Twitter have already seen this one, but it must be re-iterated: this looks unbelievably awesome. 

The sharp angles, ambient glow, and jet-black finish of Headhunter’s mask are one of the most sleek and menacing designs I’ve witnessed, and the way her cloak billows along the line of action to complement her dynamic landing pose sells the blowback from parrying Zero’s attack and makes her the clear focus of the picture. 

Comparatively, Zero’s muted colors and more inert kneeling pose that suggest he can barely keep up with Headhunter’s sheer speed, despite wielding a superior weapon.Without having played the game, I might assume she was the main hero, and Zero a nondescript mook.

—

by @shaocixiezi

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call “black humor” at its finest.

At my last job, my going-away gift was a novelty USB drive of Batman, whom my co-workers knew was my favorite superhero. I use it to store backups of my art, and pulling off his head still unnerves me every time.

—

by @Kazzang3

There has been some graphic artwork of Headhunter’s decapitation, yet Kazzang’s minimalist and near-photorealistic interpretation sends chills down my spine. 

The dark grey bodysuit beneath her NULL cloak is pitch-black here, leaving the eye nowhere to focus but Headhunter’s face, the outline of her forlorn expression darkened in the harsh glare of red. Such minimal detail, yet such incredible layout and resounding impact that’s impossible to forget.

—

by @spiderbirdo

Katana ZERO’s level of technology seems anachronistic at times; people still use mobile phones and watch movies on VHS tapes, and yet we encounter laser grids, flying gun drones, and cryostasis without remark. Part of Headhunter’s memorability comes from her absurdly high-tech weaponry, beyond what a wartime NULL would have wielded during the war: beam rifles, floating sticky mines, and teleportation abilities to surpass even a Gamma like Zero.

Spiderbird captures that mystique as Headhunter’s mines float around her like Gradius-style Options, bathing her in an eerie magenta glow. She appears as a time traveler might to a modern-day soldier: no face, no past, but carrying a perfect knowledge of the future and tech so advanced that any confrontation would be futile. 

—

by @NagataBt

“They may seem dead to you and I, but to them they are still dying. No one to even hear their screams.“

In the weeks following Katana ZERO’s wide release, there was speculation that Headhunter’s demise had spared her from the limbo of living death that await all NULL: “She died before her withdrawal progressed that far,” or “Her death was final because her head was cut off, like how zombies work.” Anything to escape the guilt of killing one of our own for ultimately nothing.

We can only hope those theories are true, for the alternatives are far too bleak to contemplate.

—

by @zenixdd

This is just wonderful: Headhunter, a superhuman stone-cold killer, taking a moment to adjust her hairband just as any other girl would. Her tiny blue earring, mild freckles, and pale bags under her eyes from nights of exhaustion and endless Chronos hallucinations reveal the delicate vulnerability of someone who just mentioned wanting to drink your blood like a juice box.

—

May “Full Confession” play on loop at your closed-casket funeral, Headhunter. Your war, at long last, is over.

If you’d like some artwork featured on a future Fan Art Friday, just use the Submit Button on this blog!

*Gulp, gulp* by @WarioEAG

[apathycares]

general relationship headcanons for Bakugou, shoto and dabi? btw, any rules for this blog like NSFW and hard limits?? good luck with this blog!!!💗💗

General Relationship Headcanons

First of all, thank you so much 😀

To answer your question though, I did plan to put up some rules or something along those lines but I thought about it and I’ve decided against it. I kinda wanna try writing stuff I’d generally avoid. Once upon a time, I only wrote for humour, and now look at me! Getting all romantic and shit. So, if you’d like me to do some NSFW or some sketchy shit, let’s tussle.

Thanks again. I hope you like this.

※ Warnings: none!

※ Pairings: Bakugou x Reader, Todoroki x Reader, Dabi x Reader

Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou is in a relationship?!

And honestly, who would believe him, knowing how he was.

You knew about his crush on you before he knew about his crush on you. The guy wasn’t really subtle when he liked someone a little more than the rest.

At first you thought he was a little more gentle towards his friends in general, up until he “casually” asked what type of guy you’d be into.

You gasped, to his chargrin, then with a sly smirk asked him out on a date.

Bakugou holds that against you. Any disagreements, any fights you ever have always ends with a “Well I guess you shouldn’t have asked me out on a fucking date first!!” or “Guess you’re regretting asking me out first huh?!”

He’s a little insecure.

For your anniversaries, valentine’s day and the like, unless you spell out what you’d like a few days prior, he wouldn’t really do anything special.

To him, stuff like that is unnecessary and dumb.

If you really want him to be a certain way, you’d have to bait him.

“You know, I was talking to Yuki the other day and apparently her boyfriend bought her some diamond earrings.”

“………”

“And apparently, it was for no special occasion. No reason. It was just a token of his lov-”

“SHUT YOUR FACE I’LL BE BACK.”

Proceeds to buy you a whole set.

He’s a little private with this relationship.

Therefore, your regular dates consists of taking walks in secluded areas (ex: beach in the night), chatting and snacking in each other’s rooms, and the occasional lunches in slightly pricey restaurants.

Bakugou becomes handsy when your attention is away from him. Especially if you’re ignoring him. He will either disrupt what you’re doing with an angry pout at the least or wreck it at most.

In terms of affection, he likes playing hard to get. He’ll demand invite you over after a while of not seeing each other and you’d think that any normal boyfriend would jump you immediately.

Oh no. Bakugou grunts at your arrival and continues to do whatever he was doing prior. He gets off on seeing you irritatedly climb onto his lap or grab his shoulder and jerk him around to face you.

He’ll keep the uninterested act going for a bit, looking away and avoiding your touch. Depending on your mood you’ll either -

Kiss him because you’ve missed him, and he’d loosen up almost immediately, so that when you pull away you both smile at each other lovingly before going in for another one.

Ditch him because he’s being annoying, and he’d barricade the door first before ravaging you.

Since his parents are in the fashion industry, Bakugou always critiques you on what you’re wearing. He even steals a few pieces he likes from their collections and gifts them to you, claiming you’d make it work better than those hungry models.

His mom doesn’t like you immediately, his dad does.

Not that Bakugou cares.

During a particular dinner date with his family (it was his dad’s birthday and of course he announced to his parents that you’d be joining them) his mother made a snide comment about his choice in partner.

“Actually Bakugou-san, I’m the one who initially asked him out.”

The table went quiet for a moment, before the older woman bursts out in an obnoxious laughter eerily similar to her son’s, who was glowering angrily at you in silence. You politely smile despite your confusion, and glance at the only other sane person on the table, Papa Bakugou, who nervously chuckles, knowing exactly what his wife was on about.

“Oh, I was so wrong about you!”

“…excuse me?”

“I never knew Katsuki would take up from his father in his love life!” Mama Bakugou leans in with a warm grin, her eyes full of mischief. “Safe to say the Bakugou men like a woman who knows what she wants.”

You’ve never heard Bakugou cuss someone out as much as he did that night.

But, you got along better with his mom and that’s all that mattered right?

“We are never going back there.”

Guess not.

“Sure, I got what I needed anyways.”

“Hah?”

You lean in until you’re inches from his face, enough to think that you’re about to kiss him as his eyes fall to your stretching lips, only for you to whisper, “Apparently you like a girl who takes charge huh?”

He grunts, pressing his forehead to yours, just about to kiss you, when you confess -

“And baby pictures for future blackmail reference.”

Todoroki Shouto

Todoroki is in a relationship?!

All the females (and the occasional few men) were devastated when this came to light.

Thanks to Endeavour’s A+ parenting skills, this boy was pitifully clueless in everything not heroics.

So, when he first feels…differently about you, he thinks something’s wrong with him.

Of course he asks his mom the next time he visits her, whom, with a gentle smile, tells him he has feelings towards you.

You’re a little confused as to why he pulls you aside and asks to talk somewhere private, and even more confused when he has the gall to tell you about his newfound feelings and not ask you on a date but rather he has to think about them before he acts upon them (or not).

You don’t know whether you’re flattered (because it’s Todoroki) or offended (because he asked you to remain single until he figured it out).

Deciding to humour him a bit, you agree and go about your week.

It takes him about two weeks before he decides he wants to experience a relationship with you and approaches you at lunch. As soon as he voices these thoughts, you nod your head, fighting back a smile as you tell him you need to think about it before answering.

“Oh.”

“Yup. I’m going to disappear for a while and see if I like you.”

He tilts his head, eyebrows raised as he says, “If you didn’t like me back, you wouldn’t have agreed or waited for me back then.”

Your smile drops like hot potatoes.

“In fact, I don’t think any normal person would do that. Maybe you like me more.”

“N-no! I…uh…”

“That’s why I like you too.”

Todoroki is a precious good boyfriend.

If he meets someone, anyone, he’ll immediately introduce you as his significant other.

That may not seem out of character for any regular boyfriend, but imagine stopping conversations just to make that announcement.

“Midoriya, Iida, this is my girlfriend.”

“Oh it’s a pleasure to finally meet yo-”

“Yaoyorozu, this is my girlfriend.”

“Oh, ah -”

“Kaminari, this is my girlfriend.”

“Hey-”

“Kirishima -”

“Shouto! Stop running up to people only to cut them off, that’s rude!”

Todoroki turns away from Kirishima, looking between you and his shocked classmates, before nodding. You smile, about to start a conversation with Midoriya and Iida (i.e. where he left you) when you notice Todoroki tapping furiously on his phone. You exchange looks with his friends before approaching him and asking what he was doing.

“I’m texting a picture of you to everyone I associate with.”

“Oh boy.”

Todoroki is totally the type to research on how to be a good boyfriend.

You’re always recieving flowers and the like so often that the particular store he buys them off of know you two by name.

He is very diligent with anniversaries and special occasions. He’ll go more than all out for you.

Eventually will stop referring to online when he gets to know you, but leaves a long review on a site that he preferred to follow about his findings and experience in order to help the next lovesick fool.

Todoroki is touch starved.

You grab his hand one day and at first he doesn’t seem fazed or affected by the change.

But the next time you see each other, he immediately holds your hand like he missed it. It breaks your heart every time (in a good way).

He likes it when you play with his hair.

Your usual dates can be anything from movie marathons, going to fairs and amusement parks, and chilling under a kotatsu telling stories to each other.

It’s probably after a few months of dating that he kisses you.

After that door is open, congratulations, you’ve just won a koala bear.

As in, his clinginess is OVER 9000!

You meet his family soon after his affection skyrockets, starting with his mother, whom is a little weary but gradually warms up to you after she sees how happy Shouto is.

His siblings like you instantly and attempt to get you to spill stuff about their baby brother, before he promptly pushes you out of the house.

And of course, he runs into his father as he’s leaving.

“So you are the distraction!” Endeavour booms as soon as he sees his son’s hands on your shoulders.

Before your boyfriend blows up on his dad in your honour, you touch his hand, bringing his attention to you, before you bow graciously to Endeavour and drag Todo with you. You both aren’t out of earshot when Endeavour calls out to you two with a sly, “If you are able to tame my Shouto so easily, young lady, I will allow this little courtship.”

“Hmm, that was easier than I thought.” You admit non-commitedly as soon as you two were alone. His opinion didn’t really matter enough to Todo for you to care anyways.

“Let’s see what that bastard has to say when I propose to you.”

“Huh?!”

“…..huh?”

Dabi

Shigaraki asked Dabi to go get information from the LOV’s personal source, and when Dabi didn’t find anyone to dump the burden on, he grudgingly went himself.

What kind of person would help that twit enough for him to trust anyways?

Who would’ve thought that the personal source for the villains would be so…

Well, you.

He crudely asked if you were seeing anyone right off the bat, and when you replied with an irritated, “Yes, now cork it and listen.” he could’ve sworn you said you were taken.

But all he heard was “Yes, now cork them and listen.”

As in you gave him permission to snuff them out.

Shigaraki was royally pissed and threw a whole tantrum when Dabi came back and told him the wrong information, only finding out when one of his villains were captured by the police.

He was tasked with getting the job done in the end.

“ - and Shigaraki Tomura has decided not to send you to our source in the coming future.”

“What?”

Dabi took to the streets after that, avoiding populated areas, and occasionally threatening to burn the scum who attempted to talk to him. Why did assholes decide to bother him when he least wanted to be bothered?

He’s turning a corner when he stumbles upon you and a random group of thugs, in what seems to be like you exchanging information with them.

Dabi leans against the wall and waits for you to be done, when one of the thugs grabs your hand out of nowhere.

He burns them all to ashes.

You stand there, shell shocked, as you watch the men scream in pure agony before they’re reduced to nothing, and then your horrified eyes look up and see the same asshole Shigaraki sent days ago.

There’s something sickeningly beckoning about the way the blue flames barely lick your face before diminishing before your eyes, pulling you to nearly step over the remains of your associates to follow it. As soon as you realize what’s in front of you, the spell is broken and you’re focus is snapped back on.

“What is wrong with you?! These people pay me good money and now you’ve gone and did that!” You scold him, waving at the pile in front of you with disgust. “Oh god…”

“I save you from those pigs and that’s all you have to say to me?”

You sneer. “Don’t get all presumptuous, you’re no Hero.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right but,” he’s walking towards you as he talks, tone absolutely smug when he steps over the grotesque mush and you stare dead into his eyes. Eyes bluer than his flames. “You’re still blushing like I am.”

“E-even so,” you push past him, nose scrunching as you evade his mess. “I don’t like what you did.”

“Me neither.”

“What?”

“I don’t like what you did either.”

You don’t stop again to ask him what he meant, and you don’t see him much after that.

In fact, the next time you see him is weeks after that and he began to drop by wherever you were as often as possible.

A little too often.

Often enough to find out about your significant other - your child.

At first he’s torn between relief that you weren’t really involved with anyone, surprise that you of all people had a kid, and doubt on whether or not he could deal with that.

You tell him about your little girl Yuki, who wasn’t biologically yours, how you found her abandoned and hungry. She made the bleakness of your days a little more bearable.

Dabi decides then and there that he’d protect the both of you, and leaves without a word.

You think he’s not interested in you anymore and feel a little heartbroken for a while, only for him to return the next day, pursuing you as if nothing happened.

You don’t really date as much as you two meet up and spend time together, as that was the most ideal thing for two villains in love.

Was he in love with you? A hard yes. He wouldn’t be going through all the motions of sneaking out of the bar and finding you if he didn’t.

One of his favourite things to do was tease you enough to get you blushing. Amongst other reactions.

Dabi loves it when you kiss him out of nowhere, your body pressing onto him as you claw at his own, begging for his attention, only for you to abruptly pull away with a sly smile and run off leaving him flustered and irritated.

The needy dance you two had was addicting.

Eventually, when you learn of his past, you give him a gentle kiss and assure him you’re there to stay for however long your run may be.

“And of course, you’ll quit helping that twit as proof.”

“As long as you’re willing to get a relatively normal job and -”

“Nope sweetheart, not happening.”

“Well then, that twit stays.”

And if you’re wondering, Imma keep using Yuki as a filler character every. Time.

※  Tip jar | BNHA Masterlist

[badchoicesposts]

Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 7

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar)

Word Count: 4,026 

Disclaimer: I’ve changed up the timeline of the social season a bit to fit my story better. I’ve based it off of some research I did on the British Social Season.

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @kingliam2019, @ao719, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @lauradowning29

A/N: This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Catch Up: Masterlist

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of depression, anxiety, body insecurity, and small details of a panic attack.

The next few weeks passed by in a haze of etiquette and diplomacy lessons. Bertrand was by far the strictest teacher that she ever had. He expected her to be awake with the sun and would often still be hovering over her shoulder critiquing her posture and quizzing her until late into the night. Ali was surprised that he hadn’t started rapping her knuckles with a ruler when she got something wrong. She tried not to take his attitude too personally, knowing that he was more knowledgeable about court events and proper behavior than she was, but that didn’t stop her from cursing his existence every time he left the room. 

The social season was quickly approaching, and Ali’s anxiety had come back along with it. Ali had struggled with anxiety and depression for so many years that there was a point when she felt as if she didn’t know who she was without it. She was severely depressed for all of her high school years and for the first few years of college. But, she had fought like hell to get past it and had been good for the past few years, and she planned on fighting to get past it now. 

Liam had only been able to visit once, so her only true stress reliever was Maxwell. The two would often stay up late watching movies, which only served to make them miserable the next day and cause Bertrand to be more irritated. The had gotten through all eight of the Harry Potter movies, and Ali had even gotten Maxwell to watch some of her favorite Bollywood movies from when she was growing up. Maxwell also had a very impressive face mask collection that they had taken to using every Saturday night. 

She watched the trees go by as the limo sped towards the palace and had to remind herself to actually breathe. Bertrand sat next to her, mumbling on about something that she couldn’t manage to take in. 

“During your dinner with the king and queen tonight yo-.” 

“Wait, my what?” Ali asked, quickly turning to look at Bertrand. 

“Your dinner with the king and queen. They have invited us to dine with them this evening. I instructed Maxwell to inform you last night,” Bertrand said, scowling at his younger brother. 

“Sorry. It must have slipped my mind,” Maxwell said guiltily. 

“Why do they want to have dinner with us tonight? I thought the social season didn’t start until tomorrow?” she asked.

Bertrand, who was previously about to scold his brother, looked over at Maxwell, and the two seemed to have a nonverbal conversation. 

“I believe that the king and queen may want to sit down with you beforehand since your relationship with the Prince is slightly… different than the one he has with the other suitors,” Bertrand said with an edge of something in his voice that Ali couldn’t quite place. 

She could tell, however, that he was choosing his words carefully. 

“So they want to intimidate me and make sure that I don’t cause any trouble,” she said, looking over at Maxwell, who refused to meet her eyes. 

“Guys, it’s not like I want to cause any trouble. They have to know that, right?” she spoke again after a moment of silence. 

“We know your true intentions, and regardless of what they are, it is imperative that you make a good impression on the king and queen tonight. It will be your first time meeting them, so you must show them that you have what it takes to thrive at court,” Bertrand said.

“Yeah, because it’s so easy to make a good impression while you’re throwing up,” Ali mumbled under her breath.

“For God's sake, do not throw up in front of the royal couple,” Bertrand said.

The scowl had once again returned to his face, and Ali couldn’t help but smile despite all of her nerves. Winding up Bertrand had quickly become one of her favorite things to do, and he had quickly realized what she was doing. Even though he would never admit it, she could tell that he was beginning to grow fond of her. She would occasionally see the corners of his mouth turn up in a very restrained smile at some of her comments and always counted it as a personal victory. 

“I’m not actually going to throw up in front of them, Bertrand,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully, “I’m just not all that excited for this dinner tonight.”

“At least Liam will be there to run interference if needed,” Maxwell said. 

Ali took a deep breath and nodded, feeling slightly reassured now that she knew Liam would be present. However, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

As the car pulled up closer to the Palace, the reality of her situation once again knocked the wind out of her. The only word she could think of to describe the Palace was regal. It was large and elegant, and it was hands down the most beautiful place she had ever been.

“Dinner will be served at 8:00 sharp. I expect you to be ready and waiting by 7:30,” Bertrand said as they exited the car.

“What do I wear to dinner tonight?” Ali asked Maxwell softly so that Bertrand wouldn’t be able to hear. 

“I’ll help you find something,” Maxwell assured her. 

A few maids came bustling to meet them, leading them up to their rooms, and Ali made a mental note to ask Maxwell to show her around later. When they got to her room she immediately rounded on Maxwell, her hand going up to nervously tug at her black curls.

“Maxwell, I’m freaking out!” she said.

“Don’t!”

“Okay, I love you, but saying ‘don’t’ doesn’t make me feel any better!” she said sarcastically.

“Don’t be nervous. You’ve prepared for this. Everything is going to be fine,” he tried to reassure her. He walked over to her bag and began dumping a few clothing options onto the large bed.

“Will it though? Will it, really? What if everything isn’t fine? What if I say something stupid and fuck everything up? And what is it with you nobles and four poster beds?” she rambled, gesturing wildly to the bed in the middle of the room.

Ali knew she was spiraling and that she was sounding paranoid, but she couldn’t help it.

“Maybe you guys shouldn’t be having this conversation with the door wide open.” 

Maxwell and Ali both turned to see Drake casually leaning against her door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Drake! What are you doing here?” Ali asked.

“My room’s next door. I heard paranoid shrieking so I thought I would come see what was going on,” he said, a smirk gracing his features.

“Yes, I know this is so amusing. I’m glad you can get a laugh out of my mental breakdown,” she said. 

She glared at him as she threaded her fingers into the hair at the top of her head and pulled roughly on it. Drake immediately stopped smiling and made his way into her room. 

“First, you need to stop doing that,” he said. 

He grabbed her wrist and gently untangled her fingers from her hair, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as he lowered it back down to her side. 

“Take a deep breath. As much as I hate to say it, Maxwell’s right.” 

Drake looked as if that was the most painful thing he could have ever admitted. Out of the corner of her eyes, she was Maxwell perk up at his words. 

“You’ve been preparing for this. You’re going to be fine. Wear the navy blue dress. It’s modern but classy. It’ll impress the queen,” he said. 

“You know, if I wasn’t freaking out, I would totally make fun of you for describing a dress as modern and classy,” she said, poking fun at his usual fashion incompetence.

The man simply rolled his eyes, but as he turned around and made his way back to the door, Ali felt some of her nerves disappear. It was comforting knowing that Drake believed she would be okay.

“Drake,” she called after him, “Thank you.” 

He turned and shot her a half smile before walking out and closing the door, leaving her to get ready with Maxwell. She quickly slipped the dress on before taking off her glasses and settling down for Maxwell to do her makeup. 

“How did you get so good at doing eye shadow?” she asked, her body still shaking as he gently ran the brush over her eyelid. 

“I like watching makeup videos on Instagram,” he said absentmindedly. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re good at it. I was always hopeless because I can’t see when I take my glasses off,” she said, grateful that Maxwell decided to take up this particular skill. 

“That’s why I’m here, little blossom,” Maxwell said. 

Ali smiled at the use of the nickname he had given her.

“That and because Bertrand doesn’t trust me with anything else,” he finished, motioning for her to put her glasses back on. 

He had done a simple look, blending two soft brown shades onto the lid and outlining her eye in dark liner. She smoothed down the fabric of her dress as she stood and squared her shoulders in an attempt to feel more confident. She tried to push the fact that she was about to meet the king and queen of a country in a $25 dress that she had gotten from Forever 21 out of her mind. 

“Let’s go,” she said, taking Maxwell’s outstretched arm as he led her down to the large dining room. 

They met Bertrand outside the dining room, and he nodded at the two of them in approval before Bastien and another guard opened the doors for them. Upon entering the room they were met with the sight of King Constantine, Queen Regina, Liam, and a tall woman with short, blonde hair. Liam met her eyes and broke out into a wide smile. 

Bertrand immediately stepped forward to greet them, pulling Ali along with him. She curtsied in greeting, a polite smile on her face. 

“Lady Alison, it’s a pleasure to meet you. This is my niece, Madeleine. She will be joining the season as a suitor as well,” Regina said. 

Madeleine had an easy smile on her face that Ali could tell came from years of political training. She knew that Madeleine had been engaged to Leo when he abdicated the throne and was trying her best to hide her shock at finding out that the woman would be a suitor once again. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Madeleine,” Ali said. 

Madeleine gave her an appraising look and her smile only became wider.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Lady Alison,” she said. 

The way she stressed the word “lady” did not go unnoticed by Ali. She fought the urge to say roll her eyes and say something sarcastic as Liam approached her. 

Liam took his hand in hers and brought it up to his mouth, gently kissing her knuckles and letting his lips linger against her skin.

“It’s lovely to see you again, my lady,” he said.

Ali felt her cheeks flush slightly and curtsied when he released her hand. 

“It’s always a pleasure, Prince Liam.” 

The two missed the look Constantine and Regina gave each other, but Bertrand, who had been silently watching the scene, discreetly cleared his throat. They moved apart and a blush crept up Liam’s neck, something that happened when he became too flustered or embarrassed. 

“Shall we sit?” Constantine asked and motioned towards the large table. 

She immediately noticed that she was seated directly across from Liam and Madeleine and was almost positive that Constantine had done so on purpose. 

“Lady Alison, have you been enjoying your time in Cordonia?” Constantine asked as dinner was being served. 

“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ve only had the chance to see Ramsford, but the Beaumonts are very gracious hosts, and I’m looking forward to seeing more of the country during the season,” she replied. 

He was starting off with easy questions, and she was grateful. She was having an internal battle with herself as she eyed her glass of wine, the butterflies in her stomach moving nonstop. She was tempted to down the whole thing in own go, but she knew that it would be inappropriate. She instead opted for the glass of water right next to it and tried sipping the cool beverage in hopes of calming her nerves. 

“Yes, the Beaumonts are very kind and generous. Not every noble family would think to sponsor a foreigner who knows so little about the country. Even if they believe it to be for love,” Madeleine stated, taking a sip of her own drink. 

Ali quickly decided that she wasn’t very fond of Madeleine. However, she kept an easy smile on her face. The nerves that she previously felt were replaced with the need to show not only Madeleine, but also Constantine, Regina, Bertrand, and everyone else who felt that she couldn’t survive at court what she was capable of. She kept her body relaxed and made it a point to show the other woman that she wasn’t affecting her. Madeleine may have had political training, but Ali had a few tricks of her own too. 

She had years of waitress experience under her belt. She had spent countless hours listening to and “sympathizing” with rude and obnoxious customers. At the bar, she was often put in charge of the rowdiest and most difficult tables because she was able to handle them better than the other servers. It wasn’t that those types of people didn’t get under her skin. She was just able to hold in her anger in front of them.

“You’re completely right, Lady Madeleine. I can understand why some people would think it risky to do what they have for me. I wasn’t born or raised in Cordonia, so I’m not as well versed in its traditions or culture as someone who was. But, I made it a point to learn as much as I could about its history five years ago, and, although I’m slightly embarrassed to admit it, I’ve been keeping up with its politics since,” Ali said, her cheeks heating up.

“You have?” Liam asked.

He was pleasantly surprised to know that she had done so and felt pride swelling in his chest at the fact that she had been able to talk her way around Madeleine’s snide comment. He also couldn’t help the feeling of happiness that washed over him when he realized that she had undoubtedly been thinking about him over the past few years as he had done for her. 

“Yes, I have. I know that it’s not the same as experiencing it firsthand, but I have been developing a love and appreciation for this country for a long time, and I’m extremely grateful to have the opportunity to expand my knowledge and be here now.”

“You mention that you started learning about Cordonian history five years ago. Am I correct in assuming that was after you first met Liam?” Constantine asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” 

“Lady Alison, I’m curious. What was your reaction upon hearing that Liam was a prince?” Regina asked.

~~~

Ali and Liam moved around the kitchen in a comfortable silence as they prepared dinner. Well, as she prepared dinner. Liam was mainly observing, helping out here and there when she instructed him to. Ali wasn’t eager to have a repeat of the spaghetti incident and wanted to make sure they had something edible tonight because he had insisted that they stay in. 

The two had been dating for three months, and he was Ali’s first actual boyfriend. She was crazy about him and glad that she could experience so many of her “firsts” with him. 

“You’re staring,” she said, as she began to carve the chicken that she had just taken out of the oven. 

“You’re beautiful,” Liam said, with a smile. 

Ali tugged anxiously at her top. She had always been self-conscious about her body, and even though she had been working towards loving herself, she would still feel insecure from time to time. Especially when she compared her body to Liam’s. Liam was tall, broad shouldered, and muscular while her body was all curves. She wasn’t overweight, but she definitely wasn’t considered thin, and she often agonized over the stretch marks she found all over and her slightly chubby stomach. She knew that besides dealing with her other issues, one of the main steps in her mental health recovery was learning how to be kinder to herself. Regardless, hating yourself could be a hard habit to break when you’ve been doing it since you were thirteen. 

Liam moved to stand behind her, pressing his chest to her back and burying his face into the side of her neck. 

“I mean it. I think you’re so beautiful,” he said, pressing small kisses to the skin there.

“I know you do, Liam,” she mumbled, a smile forming on her face.

They ate in a comfortable silence, sharing small smiles. However, Ali could feel the anxiety coming off of him every time she caught him staring at her. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” she asked when they were finally done with their meal. 

Liam sighed and pulled her down onto his couch. He kept one arm tightly around her waist and began to gently play with her fingers with his other hand. 

“There’s something that I need to tell you,” he said softly.  

“What? Are you married or something?” she joked. 

The smile quickly left her face when she realized that he wasn’t laughing with her. 

“Oh, my god! You are!” she said. She was completely shocked and went to pull out of his arms, but he tightened his grip on her body. 

“No, I promise I’m not married.”

“Then what is it?” she asked, relaxing into him and placing a hand on his chest. 

“I haven’t been completely honest with you about who I am. My father isn’t actually a diplomat,” he said.

He took a deep breath before his next words.

“My father is the King of Cordonia. Ali, I’m a prince,” he said, holding his breath as he waited for her reaction. 

Much to his surprise she began to chuckle. 

“That’s funny. You really had me going there for a second,” she said with a smile.

She pulled away from him and grabbed her glass of water from the coffee table in front of her, taking a large sip. 

“Love, I’m being serious,” he said. 

“What? Liam, I’ve never even heard of a place called Cordonia,” she said, still smiling. 

“It’s a small country in the Mediterranean. Most people haven’t heard of it,” he said. 

Ali raised her brows and Liam, still smiling. 

“Okay, Liam, you’ve had your fun,” she said, resting her glass back down and leaning into his side.

“My love, please. I am being serious,” he persisted. 

Ali rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. 

“Fine, you’re being serious,” she said, quickly typing in the words “Cordonia” and “Prince Liam”.

Her jaw dropped as a picture of the man sitting right next to her came up.

“Oh, my god! You’re being serious!” she exclaimed.

She jumped into a sitting position and looked at him, her mouth hanging open. Even though a million things were going through her mind at once, none of them were good. She wasn’t going to fool herself into thinking that just because he was a prince she was going to get a happily ever after. If anything, she saw their relationship completely fall apart before her eyes. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. I needed a chance to get to know you without worrying about that getting in the way,” Liam said. 

Ali could tell that he was still nervous.

“Is anything I know about you even true?” she asked.

“I’ve told you the truth about everything except for my title. I needed you to know me as Liam, not Prince Liam of Cordonia,” he said, reaching for her hand. 

He could tell that she was still uncomfortable by the fact that she didn’t lean into him the way she usually did. 

“I know that this is somewhat of a shock, but, if you’ll let me, I would like to tell you more about my country and who I am,” he said hopefully. 

~~~

Ali took a breath. She had not been expecting Regina’s question and had no idea if she should answer truthfully or not. Bertrand was shifting uncomfortably in his seat beside her, and she could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on her. She looked up and caught Liam’s gaze momentarily, before quickly turning her head away. 

“May I speak freely, ma’am?” she asked. 

“Please do.” 

Bertrand was now looking at her as if he believed the world would come crashing down once she opened her mouth.

“When Liam first revealed to me who he was we were still in the early stages of our relationship. I don’t know if you could say that we were in love yet, but we were well on our way,” she said, looking up to see him smiling at her. 

“But, if I’m being completely honest, when he told me who he was, I believed that our relationship would inevitably fall apart. He was a prince and that came along with certain responsibilities. There were events and situations that he had been trained for his entire life that I had never even entertained the thought of experiencing. I was crazy about him at the time, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up for a long-term relationship with him when I wasn’t sure that there was a serious future for us.” 

Everyone was hanging onto her words now, interested to hear what she had to say. She made it a point not to look at Liam. She had never shared these thoughts with him before, and she wasn’t sure if she should even be sharing them now at all. 

“But, every time I worked up the courage to end things in the months that followed, Liam would do something. Something small that would remind me of how… good he was, how big his heart was. He would try to make me dinner because he knew that I had a rough day, or he would help me babysit, and I would see how great he was with children. As time went on, I realized how lucky I was to be loved by someone as amazing as him, and I stopped wanting to end it. I stopped caring about those differences that we had and realized that I loved him too much to just let him go.” 

“I saw the love he had for his country and through that I felt myself beginning to love it as well. I started learning everything I could about Cordonia. I studied its politics and culture. I learned about its history and the noble families. But, in the end, Liam still had to return home, and, until about a month ago, I believed I would never see him again. I never had a fairytale picture in my head. From the beginning I knew that things wouldn’t be easy. But, I quickly realized that it didn’t matter because I was willing to fight for him, and I still am.”

Liam was beaming at her from his seat, and Constantine was looking at her curiously. There was a small smile on his face, but she couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. For all she knew she had very well embarrassed herself in front of the king and queen. 

“Romantic sentiments, Lady Alison,” Madeleine said, casually placing her hand on Liam’s arm. 

The action itself seemed almost territorial, but Ali didn’t let it bother her. Not while Liam was looking at her with so much love in his eyes.

“Yes, romantic indeed,” said Constantine, who was now smiling widely.

[cmtrydrve]

            hey ! my name’s link , i go by he/they pronouns , am 21+ & live in the cst timezone ! my only personality trait is being a bts , sment & girl groups enthusiast . i’m an aries sun with a pisces moon , which means i can be aggro , am always loud & obnoxious , but am a secretly sensitive softy , so plz be nice to me !!! this is my child , mikey , who’s stuck in 2006 & never grew out of his emo phase ( take that , mom ! ) . he’s also an aries , because my jjks always end up like that . hopefully , you’ll love him as much as i already do ! under the cut , you’ll find some misc . info & wanted connections . here are links to his dossier page & his pinterest board , which will hopefully give you some deeper insight . i’m excited to be here & write with you all ! like this if you’d like to plot & i’ll fly to your ims , but also feel free to add me on d*scord ( it’s easier for me as well ) : no brain only loving bts#6669 !

— jeon jungkook. he/they. demiboy. | was that michael “mikey” kwon i just saw in the hideaway lobby ? i hear the twenty-two year old spends most of their time working as a record store clerk / studying communications , but i’ve always just seen them dyeing their hair different colors with kool-aid . they live in 3c and i often see them in the halls. they always give me a vibe of getting into arguments online , an entirely black wardrobe and drinking six cups of coffee to make it through the day . 

misc . info :

his parents are both very hip artists who met & fell in love while attending art school. they’re both very modern kind of parents, which meant that mikey grew up around a lot of self-expression (& being told to try it for himself), paint everywhere & pot.

growing up, he was allowed to paint his walls & even ceiling however he pleased & it instilled a love of creativity in him. his parents still have paintings he did as a child hanging up on their walls & fridge. even now, he still draws casually, though it was always a hobby for him & not his actual passion.

his parents are extremely caring & understanding. as a teenager, they allowed him to go out & party & always made sure to get him home safely. mikey genuinely can not remember a single time they ever yelled at him even when he fucked up massively. so he tries his best to make sure they’re happy & taken care of. but they’re adamant in supporting whatever mikey wants to do.

they were both the alternative types, which meant that rock music filled their home. mikey was familiar with classic rock from a young age & the sounds of fleetwood mac & other similar bands fills him with a warmth that can only be attained from childhood nostalgia.

his first taste of love came at the age of seven. his parents always brought home new albums to listen to & his dad purchased three cheers for sweet revenge by my chemical romance. while the screaming & raging instruments could have been too much for anyone else his age, mikey embraced it fully.

it ignited an adoration for the genre as a whole & soon enough, his parents were bringing home various emo music albums to sate the always dramatic & over-reacting mikey. for christmas, he received mcr’s discography (at the time, just two albums) on vinyl, which he still has hanged proudly on his wall as an adult.

he owns every variation of every mcr album now. vinyl, cd, cassettes. he even collects the japanese versions because he likes the way they’re designed.

he dropped the name mike / michael because of mikey way & he refuses to answer to anything else.

even though it’s largely part of “cringe culture” now (which mikey refuses to participate in), he loves hot topic & goes there whenever he can. his closet is full of band tees & he has a drawer filled with those spiky belts, bracelets & pants with the suspenders from his teenage years.

he’s been dyeing his hair regularly since he was twelve. he’s had every color under the sun. this is what his hair currently looks like but he dyes the highlights with kool-aid, so the color is always changing.

he has a nostril piercing & would probably get more done if someone so much as implied that he should.

he has a mcr stan twitter account & he gets into fights with everyone he decides has a wrong opinion. he’s been suspended multiple times for being too aggressive online, but he always comes back. he also has a tumblr account but he just uses it to reblog pictures of gerard way (his bias KJHFDKJ).

he works at a record store & goes to school for communications. he hopes to either be a radio dj or podcast host. he wants to get paid to talk about how much he loves music either way. but he loves his current job because he gets to talk about music all day and recommend albums to people. also it’s helpful in perfecting his own vinyl collection.

yes, he cried the day mcr broke up & yes he bought tickets to all their reunion shows. he took the day off when the tickets went on sale & his boss was understanding, knowing how much he loves the band.

he’s extremely impulsive. if you tell him to do anything, he more than likely will. he has a lot of stupid scribbled tattoos on him for this reason, especially on his hands.

while he doesn’t mind appearing masculine & even embraces it, he doesn’t fully align with being a man. he started identifying as nonbinary in his teens, but has never felt 100% a man his whole life. he’s fine with both he or they pronouns for the most part, though he does have his preferences day to day. he introduces himself as nonbinary so it’s not a secret & everyone who interacts with him is aware.

he’s kind of a party animal. he’s that loud person who drinks too much & ends up blacked out on the floor.

he gets in trouble a lot, because he plays music very loudly at both his workplace & his apartment. but he’s of the opinion that if music is too loud for you then you’re just too old.

he’s aggressive & very arrogant. he will fight you about anything & everything. he just likes to argue & he thinks he’s right about everything.

in typical aries fashion, he loves to flirt & be flirted with. he just adores attention & seeks out affection where he can find it. he gets crushes really easily & pursues aggressively (he’s extremely charming & good at making people feel good about themselves), but he gets bored when he actually obtains the person he desires. he’s never really seriously dated, but has had over a billion crushes in his lifetime.

thought dramatic & annoying most of the time, he’s also very loyal & has a good heart. if you’re in his circle of people he likes, then he’ll do anything for you point blank. he always tells his friends that he’d die for him & he means it.

while he tries to appear confident, he has secret insecurities stemming from being the middle child. he has issues with feeling like he’s not good enough or thinks he’s unnoticed by everyone, so he acts up by being dramatic.

he drinks A LOT of coffee, so he’s pretty much always bouncing off the walls.

he’s extremely pansexual & loud about it. if you’ve known him for longer than five minutes then you’ll find out how he wishes he could smash gerard way specifically in the helena mv to smithereens.

he very casually knows how to play guitar. he’s that person who plays wonderwall at every party.

while he’s not a fan of pop music, he knows most girl group dances & can do them well.

wanted connections :

exes (any gender. it will more than likely be something casual, like a few months or less, but we can discuss the timeline! also it can be messy or friendly. extra points if there’s lingering feelings!)

hookups / fwbs (any gender. singular experiences or regular type things)

childhood plots for those who’ve lived in seattle (childhood friends, first kisses / crushes, all that good stuff)

flirtationships that don’t go anywhere

one-sided crushes (don’t mind who has the feelings!)

mutual pining but they’re both idiots & have no idea

party buddies (can be drinking &/or smoking). emo music buddies. netflix buddies. any of these can be combined.

enemies???? (if we can decide on a suitable plot. or enemies with benefits :smirk:)

someone who knows of mikey from his stan twitter but doesn’t realize it’s him & talks shit openly about the asshole who runs the account in front of him.

on the opposite side of the spectrum, someone who he flirts with in the dms & they plan to meet up after realizing they live in the same apartment building.

tinder date (it can go well or not)

frequent customers (customers he flirts with or can’t stand because they just loiter or gets into fights with because they have bad taste in music

someone who takes advantage of mikey being willing to do anything he’s dared to do. make him do all the stupid shit he shouldn’t be doing, whether it’s getting tattoos / piercings or anything dangerous or just idiotic.

you’re sick of this asshole blasting music late at night & go to yell at him for it but oops he’s actually attractive (or you actually can’t stand him, whichever GKDHFGJFKD).

i have a huge tag full of plots i’d love to do on my rp spam blog. not all of them will be fitting for mikey but just ask me & we can try to change some elements or something!

literally anything you can think of i’m probably down for it!

[cardshcrp]

Before we begin, please do note that I am not a medical professional. This is a personal post meant to help my mutuals & followers in a casual context with questions I receive often or issues I’ve noticed that people aren’t quite sure about but often are not entirely comfortable asking for fear of being offensive. I am also doing this in a muse-specific context for my muse, while including a large amount of general information to hopefully be informative, because I wanted to and it seemed like others wanted me to when I suggested it. I think having an open conversation is very important and while I am happy to talk with you, always, not every trans mun will be comfortable in this way. If a trans mun asks you to simply read their blog posts about a topic or tells you they aren’t comfortable with a topic, please don’t press as everyone’s comfort is different. I do suggest research using reputable sources if you’d like to further look into a topic; you are welcome to contact me to be pointed towards some of course, or have private conversations if confused about something or wanting to know more. I am also typically welcoming to people who may be questioning their gender and have questions about my personal experience.

TL;DR I can’t speak for all trans people and this is my attempt to be helpful from my perspective using my personal knowledge, experience, and research into topics that are very important to me personally. I am not a medical professional or a gender therapist.

THE GENERAL QUESTIONS.

1. Is Remy openly trans? If not, in which cases would my muse know about it? Is it acceptable for my muse to step in if someone says something transphobic in character in a thread, etc.? 

He is and he isn’t. Sorry, that was a bad answer - no. He’s not openly trans, but it isn’t a secret. He informs medical professionals when he requires treatment, and he certainly does go around shirtless often. However, his top surgery scars are reasonably faded with age and he has many scars on his torso, which means that people often don’t pay them particular notice. Top surgery is a procedure in which breast tissue is reduced and the chest is cosmetically restructured to appear as we would associate with a cis man; this can but does not always include areola reduction to fit better with the new appearance. There are a few different ways to perform this that leave different scar patterns, but the most commonly known one (and the one that Remy has) involves two horizontal scar lines across the base/just under the breast. 

Your muse likely would not know he is trans unless they were familiar with the scars and looking enough to notice them, he is informing them in a pre-sexual content, or your muse has heightened senses or some other power that would allow them extra perception and so on. If your muse wants to defend him against some kind of transphobia, that’s all well and good, but frankly he’s liable to thoroughly thrash anyone who’s going to be phobic to him and support is really all he ever needs. He can fight his own battles. He is male-passing.

2. How long has Remy known he’s trans? What does it mean to be trans? Does he know his deadname? Does he tell people his deadname? What’s a deadname?

Being transgender means that someone identifies as a gender other than the sex they were assigned at birth. Remy is a female to male trans person (FTM) and was assigned female at birth (AFAB), meaning biologically and genetically he was originally what we would consider female. If you identify with your gender to match the sex you were assigned at birth, you would be cisgender. People may realize they are trans at any age, though it typically involves a period of struggling with their identity, and generally use the pronouns of the gender they identify as. Nonbinary people can also fall under the trans umbrella. 

Remy identified as male from early childhood and in fact did not realize his biology did not match his identity until he was somewhat older (i.e. around eleven or twelve). This is not universal. He is aware of his deadname but has never really used it (aside from for reasons referred to in this headcanon) as quite frankly, it’s a fucking mouthful and he just doesn’t like it in general. It’s quite old-fashioned and difficult. His adoptive family is also aware of it and do not use it. It’s safe to assume your muse wouldn’t, and if they did for some reason find out and use it on him, they’re also probably going to get 300 kicked.

3. When did he start transitioning? Is he “fully” transitioned? Is fully transitioning a thing?

Fully transitioning isn’t a thing. The transition experience is subjective entirely according to the trans person and what they need in order to identify as their gender. For instance, someone could never undergo any surgery or change of dress and consider themselves fully transitioned. I will say that the common misconception involves ‘completing’ a surgical routine, specifically regarding genitalia. It’s not necessary if the person does not need it for their comfort. Some people do. Common elements of transitioning in general include: non-surgical chest binding or chest accentuation, top surgery or breast augmentation, removal of reproductive organs if desired, genital surgery, changing manner of dress and behavior to suit the identified gender. Bottom line is that your genitalia does not define your gender identity. Transition needs are suited to each individual person and what they feel they need to be comfortable. 

Remy considers himself fully transitioned according to what he needs. He has received top surgery and is on testosterone; he has not received a hysterectomy or genital restructuring and does not desire genital surgery, though he is undecided on the hysterectomy. He does not have plans to have one, as it’s a costly procedure and the recovery isn’t ideal for someone as active as he is. That may change in the future. He started transitioning medically at the age of 16, which is when he began receiving HRT. I have a page concerning this here, so as not to extend this FAQ past the insane length it’ll already be.

4. Is Remy on testosterone? What the hell’s a HRT? What happens when you’re on T, and the different methods of taking it. What happens if you stop?

Hormone replacement therapy (HRT) is the process during which someone is assigned to take hormones/hormone medication in order to provide them bodily changes so that their body more closely aligns to their identity and may allow them to “pass” as their identified gender more easily. For instance, female-to-male men would take testosterone (T), and male-to-female women would take estrogen (if desired or needed). I can’t speak on the estrogen administration and I don’t want to get that wrong, so I will talk mostly about T here - any trans ladies are welcome to add in. I know the basics but don’t want to misrepresent, so. 

T is available in skin patches, gel, pills, and shots. The patches and gels are lower dosages and take longer to have a visible effect, while the shots are generally the most known method of delivery. When you take hormones, your body does change. It doesn’t undo your first puberty, but a trans man on T would reduce in body fat and increase in muscle mass somewhat, and a redistribution of body fat. Within 1-3 months on a ‘standard’ dosage typical effects include increased sex drive, increased vaginal dryness, acne, hair growth overall, and mentioned muscle/fat changes. Notably, the clitoris also grows and may appear somewhat like a very small penis, and typically this growth is in the range of 1-3 cm. Within 6 months, menstruation usually stops and voice drops and begins to change, though that process may take a long time. After a year or so facial hair growth may start, though the rate at which it becomes steady may take years, and male-pattern baldness may also be a problem for some men if it’s a thing in their family and so on. 

 You do have to keep taking it, and if you stop some effects are permanent - i.e. voice change, and clitoris growth. Hair growth may reduce but is unlikely to completely stop. Menstruation does return, and your fat and muscle also resume their previous distributions over time.

Remy is on testosterone and has been. He uses the shot method. 

5. Does he menstruate if he’s on T? What’s that like if so?

He no longer menstruates on T. However, here let’s address the other associated question - yes, trans men can get pregnant despite being on T and not menstruating. Birth control is still important. This isn’t true for everyone. Some people may become sterile forever. However, there has been research on this, and it has been found that despite lack of actual menstruation, ovulation still occurs in some cases. However, if a trans man becomes pregnant, he would have to stop T in order to carry to term if desired, as otherwise the hormones are toxic for a fetus. 

6. Does Remy experience dysphoria, and if so to what extent? How does it affect him? What is dysphoria, and why does it matter?

Gender dysphoria is a disconnect between a person’s identified gender and biological sex, i.e. when a person feels they are of a different gender than the one that ‘matches’ their physical sex characteristics. 

Yes, he does. He used to experience it to a far greater degree, obviously; it was particularly bad in regards to his chest. However, after top surgery and being on T for years, he is mostly comfortable with his body. He has no real lingering dysphoria from the waist up and has mostly conquered his bottom dysphoria as well; however, there are still some days in which he struggles with it and would not want to be touched/penetrated vaginally for his own comfort. Sexual contexts are mostly the only area he experiences lingering bother on this.

7. What is packing? Does Remy do it? Explain packing and the types of packing.

Packing is the practice in which FTM men essentially wear a prosthetic penis. This may be to help them pass or simply because it alleviates their personal dysphoria. There are many types of packers; some are just makeshift stuffing or fabric. Others are made to enable men to pass in the bathroom and relieve themselves standing without being questioned, and are called stand-to-pee (STP) devices. Others are made with the capacity to be used for sex (called pack n plays, etc.), which are typically made out of body safe silicone. In this case it should be noted that they are semi-erect only. It would be pretty inconvenient to pack a rock-hard prosthetic all hours of the day.

Remy does not typically pack as he feels it lowers his overall agility and he has reached fairly low levels of bottom dysphoria. He does on occasion if a particular costume makes him feel dysphoric or has a partner who very much likes spontaneity and he just wants that option for a particular day.

8. Remy has a fair number of stereotypically female habits. Is it because he’s trans?

Uh, no. It’s just because he likes doing certain things and likes generally being self-sufficient. He likes pink (purple too) because it’s a pretty color and it looks good on him, and additionally looks good in his eyes; and due to his altered eye biology, colors do appear differently to him, so he does have an attachment to colors that really look good both to him and others when worn. He likes cooking because good food is delicious and his metabolism is super fast, so he has to eat a lot anyway. Enjoying the process doesn’t hurt. He sews because it’s useful, and so on.

A trans man can be as ‘feminine’ as he likes. It doesn’t make him less of a man.

9. Would he date a trans woman, trans man, or a nonbinary person? Are trans people more likely to date one gender identity over another?

Sure he would! He’s pan and would date anyone of any (or no) gender identity. And in general, no, trans people really aren’t more likely to date one gender over another. Sexuality =/= gender identity. A trans person can be gay, could be straight, bi, pan, ace, it doesn’t matter! It’s person to person no matter what your gender identity is. Yes, you can be gay if you’re trans, you can be lesbian if you’re trans.

10. My character XYZ is magical and could change Remy physically if he wanted it. Would he want to have a flesh peen? Is it offensive to ask?

It’s not offensive to me if you ask. However, this may not hold true for other muns. I understand that it’s an easy leap to make and you probably are coming from a very good place and want to help my muse be happy, but the answer is a very big no! He wouldn’t want that. To him (and me), magically providing a flesh and blood penis would negate the years and years of working to be comfortable with his body as who he is, and he’s proud to be trans. This is my opinion and may be subjective according to other muns and muses.

11. I’m thinking about writing a trans character, but I’m cis and I don’t want to offend anyone. Should I? If I did, would drag queens, etc. be appropriate face claims? Please note that for this question, I can only give you my personal opinion.

My general opinion here is kind of neutral. I don’t think people should be banned from writing things regardless of whether or not you identify as x thing you would like to write a character as being. However, I do think that if you want to write a trans character, you need to have a lot of research. We are often misrepresented in media and it does suck, there doesn’t need to be more of it. There is not a lot of open conversation about being trans because it is a really difficult thing, and that’s understandable, and it makes it hard. I’d say it’s fine if you’re genuinely dedicated to doing a good, positive portrayal, and it’s not the literal only element your muse has, but I would also say that you should treat it as a professional endeavor if you want to be an ally because it means a lot. Will you get hate? I don’t know. Would I personally attack you? No, not unless you were transphobic in your portrayal. Should you use a drag queen as your face claim? No. If you write a trans person, you should use either a trans face claim or a cis face claim of the gender your muse identifies as. Drag queens ultimately are doing performance art and while some trans people may do drag, it is performance art and a character being presented in an exaggerated way as a way of showing skill at makeup and costuming. It isn’t what someone looks like in real life on the daily and shouldn’t be portrayed as such unless your muse is literally a drag queen and is performing, you know what I mean?

THE NSFW-RELATED QUESTIONS.

12. Does T have bedroom side effects? If so, what are they?

Yes. I’d say please refer to #4 for the obvious! Vaginal dryness is common and clit growth as well, which does also change how you should handle said clit. In general, I’d say a good rule is to be more careful. It’s sensitive and delicate, do not treat it roughly and continuously check in with your partner! Every person has different sexual preferences, so I’m not even going to touch this in depth; if you want to know Remy’s, feel free to ask me separately!

13. Do the bits change, because I don’t know and I’m afraid to ask?

Yes they do! See #4, I put this with the rest of the testosterone effects. (:

14. What do I call the no-no’s if we smut? Do I ask IC or OOC? Is it bad to ask?

This is a pretty subjective question. As a general rule: ask the mun. Every trans person has a different preference; some of us will call our clitoris the dick, refer to vagina and asshole as front hole and back hole respectively, some of us say vagina, clit, pussy, cunt, it’s seriously all personal preference. Some trans women like to call their penis their clit. I think it’s a good idea to ask OOCly about this, and if you’re wondering whether your muse should ask in a thread or something, ask the mun that too! It’s better to ask instead of use the wrong thing, as the wrong terms may cause dysphoria and discomfort in some people.  Please ask this question as it’s important and people don’t ask this enough.

Remy is fine with most terminology if it is not being used in a degrading or fetishizing manner. It does not upset him to use the words vagina, pussy, etc. and likewise he’s happy to hear that you want to suck his dick. This isn’t universal. Not all my trans muses use the same terminology.

15. Is he comfortable with vaginal penetration? Because he has a vagina, is that preferable? (John Mulaney voice: WOULD THAT BE GOOD FOR YOU?)

Just because you have a vagina doesn’t mean you necessarily only want to use that. Straight cis women sometimes have a preference for butt stuff; it’s just a matter of preference. Some trans men don’t like it at all because they don’t and/or it makes them dysphoric. Some trans men love it and prefer it.

Yes, most days he is fine with vaginal penetration if it’s on the table. Some days he isn’t, but in general he’s okay with it and enjoys it as a manner of sex. Not all my trans muses are like this.

16. I’ve been on Pornhub a lot and we all know that’s a super inclusive place to get our information, so because he’s trans he’s a bottom, right? That means bottom?

It really doesn’t. Again, this is sexual preference and has nothing to do with gender identity. Unfortunately porn tends to fetishize trans people, that’s just what happens. As a trans person who previously dabbled in sex work, I promise you, it does happen. (As a side note: if you ever use the phrase ‘bonus hole boy’ in front of me I will block you instantly. I hate nothing more than that.)

Remy is a service switch. He’s happy to top or bottom, give or receive, dom or sub; some trans people may have strict preferences just like cis people. 

Thanks for reading! I appreciate you. If you’d like to leave a tip and support my getting through daily life and hopefully saving for top surgery, my Ko-Fi is here. I hope this was helpful, and if you have any further questions please do feel free to contact me!

[ilovemygaydad]

Friends in Dark Places [remastered; ch 10]

pairing: moxiety and logince (later on), background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: food mentions, eating, sex mentions, affair mentions, crude language, swearing, panic attacks, graphic depictions of self harm, suicidal ideation, abusive family members, yelling, fighting, blood, self hatred, self disgust, hurtful conversations, fear, anxiety, anger, homophobia, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: this chapter is SUPER intense, so please heed the warnings! as always, you’re free to ask for a modified chapter if you need it, but please be extra careful because none of those warnings are taken lightly!!!!

a/n 2: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9 - chapter 11 - chapter 12

companion fics: exes and ‘oh’s

consider buying me a coffee

-

It had taken a while, but the idea of going and conversing with the others started to warm up to Virgil. Patton had wrapped his arm around Virgil’s waist and held him close, grounding the anxious teen and giving him small bits of courage. Soon, they stood up and and ventured to the main pavilion to introduce Virgil to the other people he hadn’t met yet. There was Jo, who had a really cool cut down the middle makeup look on his face, and Joan, who did the most ridiculous impressions, and Terrence, who was the biggest ball of energy in such a small body.

For once, it was actually enjoyable for Virgil to meet new people. Years of being almost completely alone--save for a few friends here and there and his shitty ex-boyfriend--had turned him almost completely solitary. At the party, he still clung to Patton like a scared five-year-old, but he felt a little more included in the group. When Virgil began to tense up, Patton would place his hand gently on his back to provide a tether to cling on.

After two hours of eating and chatting, the party was over. Patton, Logan, and Roman offered to stay after and help clean up, but Talyn shooed the boys away, saying something about how they didn’t need any help. Virgil knew it was because they wanted him home ASAP after his panic attack, but he couldn’t bring himself mind. He was tired, and all he wanted to do was wash all of this makeup off and hopefully get most of the glitter off of his body. One day, Roman would pay for this pink glitter catastrophe, but that was a whole other train of thought.

Patton and Virgil were dropped off at their house just before midnight. Both of the boys got ready for bed, and Virgil was just this close to falling asleep when Patton softly knocked on his door.

Virgil groaned and rolled over. “Yeah, Pat? What’s up?”

The door softly clicked open, and the soft hall lights filtered in, giving Patton a light yellow glow. He entered quietly and sat on the desk chair, just barely visible in the low light.

“I, uh, just wanted to say thank you for coming to the party tonight. And also to apologize for your panic attack. I shouldn’t have let myself get swept away when you obviously needed some extra support.” Although his tone was sweet and kind, there was deep regret laced in his words.

“Oh, Pat. It’s okay. It wasn’t even your fault that we got separated.” Virgil assured, propping himself onto his elbows.

There was a beat of silence before Patton hesitantly whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Virgil smiled even though it probably couldn’t be seen by Pat. “I’m sure.”

Patton nodded quickly and left, but not before giving Virgil a small thumbs up. Soon, both of the boys were asleep and the rough day was far behind them.

---

The next week passed by smoothly. Virgil had a grand total of just three panic attacks (and Patton had come to help with each one) and hadn’t relapsed a single time. He was really proud of himself, as was Patton, and he just felt better about himself. It was liberating to have actual friends to talk to and hang out with. He’d even persuaded Logan to join crew!

And then on that fateful Monday--May first, to be exact--everything came crumbling down. It seemed as if everything bad in the word just happened to fall on a Monday. That just made Mondays even more dreadful.

Virgil’s day had started off like normal. He’d woken up, gotten ready, eaten breakfast with Patton, and went off to school. It was almost ridiculously mundane. It was in second block, however, when the not-so-normal things began to happen.

“Virgil Thomas to Office A, please,” the voice on the speaker crackled.

Shit, Virgil thought. What the fuck did I do this time?

His teacher gestured at him to leave, so he did. The walk from his math classroom to the office was basically a joke, so he made his way as slowly as possible, going so far as to dawdle by the bubbler for a minute. 

As he walked up to the office, he saw his dad’s “secretary” standing at the doors. “Secretary” being used loosely, since she was, in reality, nothing more than the girl his dad had chosen to have an affair with this month.

“Hey, Virgil,” Nathalie cooed in her irritating voice. It sounded like sandpaper on ceramic plates. “Your dad is back in town and wanted me to let you know.”

“Why didn’t he just text me? He knows that I keep my phone on me at all times.” Virgil knew that he sounded bitter, but he didn’t care when his father was involved.

“He’s been very busy lately.” Yeah, probably doing you. “He hasn’t been able to find a time to take a break from work to text you.”

Work! Who knew that Nathalie could be so funny.

“Right. Well, I’m going to go back to class now, Nat. Bye!” He spun around on his heel and started to walk away when she cut him off.

“Oh, and your father wants you to have dinner with him tonight.” 

Fucking great.

“Um, I actually had plans with a friend tonight,” Virgil rushed, dancing carefully around his current living arrangements and schedule.

“Why don’t you invite them over? I’m sure your father would love to meet them!” 

Sure he would! Just like he was so fucking excited to meet Virgil’s boyfriend or any of his other friends when he’d brought them over.

“Sure. I’ll ask him.” He was never going to be able to get out of it, so he might as well try to get Patton to come along and soften the blow. Virgil walked to the bathroom instead of to his classroom, sitting in the nearest stall with his head in his hands until the bell rang.

---

“How do I look, Virge?” Patton modeled the black dress pants and blue polo get up he had on. His grey cardigan was actually on him, instead of hanging off of his shoulders or waist.

“Great! I don’t think Dad’ll have anything bad to say about that.” Virgil was ridiculously worried about his dad ripping the happy-go-lucky boy to absolute shreds. Mr. Thomas wasn’t the nicest or most accepting person on a good day, and any way that Virgil could protect his friend, he would.

“Awesome. Now, what are you wearing?” Patton’s question was innocent, but sent a small wave of anxiety through Virgil’s body.

“Uh, black jeans, some dress shoes, and a black jumper.” He’d worn this many times in front of his dad, and he hadn’t yet been ridiculed by his father for it. Unlike all of his other clothing.

Already, Virgil had wiped off all of his makeup and styled his hair out of its floppy fringe into a clean-cut look in preparation for the visit to see his dad. Any bandages that might have disrupted his appearance were removed, all scars were covered with foundation, and his whole personality purged of substance. Even his phone case had been switched out from the pretty galaxy case with the halloween Popsockets to the all black case with as much personality as a stick in the mud. It was absolutely dreadful.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll look fantastic, kiddo!”

Yeah. Sure.

---

“Alright, guys, have a good time! Just text me when you need to be picked up, Pat,” Mrs. Shea said before driving off, leaving Virgil and Patton stranded at the Thomas residence.

For once, the lights were on inside, giving the house the tiniest sense that it wasn’t vacant. Virgil couldn’t help but wonder which of his father’s chefs was cooking their meal. He hoped that it was Mei, whose food was both fancy enough to meet Mr. Thomas’ high expectations but held a sense of casualness that appealed to Virgil. 

The pair walked up to the front door and rang the bell, sending a custom chime echoing through the house. Almost instantly, a mildly-disheveled Nathalie opened the door, grinning ridiculously widely.

“Virgil! Who’s your friend, here?” She greeted with faux cheeriness.

“Uh, this is Patton. He’s a friend from school,” Virgil paused, unable to focus when he could see a white stain on Nat’s mouth. He motioned up to his lips with a small grimace. “You’ve got a little… something… on your mouth, Nathalie.”

Gross. He didn’t even want to think about what had been happening just moments before.

Nathalie wiped gently at her mouth with the back of her hand, being extra careful not to smudge her pristine red lipstick. Opening the door wider, she motioned the boys inside. Virgil led the way to the dining room, not even bothering to wait for Nathalie.

“Oh, Virgil,” Mr. Thomas said as they walked into the dining room. “I didn’t realize you’d brought someone along.” Shocking. “Is this another one of your ‘boyfriends?’”

A pinched smile spread across Virgil’s face. “No, dad. I’m not dating anyone. This is my school friend, Patton Shea.”

“Hey, Mr. Thomas. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Patton’s happy voice lightened up the room’s atmosphere just the slightest amount, which all but astounded Virgil.

“Virgil could take some fashion notes from you, Patton. He’s always wearing those stupid looking skinny jeans and t-shirts. You look quite impressive and professional for a teenager,” Mr. Thomas commented, adjusting his glasses in a Logan-like manner. That was apparently all he had to say as he took a bite of the food in front of him.

Much to Virgil’s disappointment, it wasn’t Chinese. Apparently, the first dinner you’d have with your son in literal months wouldn’t be complete without a giant French buffet--complete with dessert.

“I--Thanks?” Pat stuttered, confused by the backhanded compliment. Virgil disregarded the comment, instead choosing to lead his friend to the table. They sat close enough to his dad to be considered polite, but it was definitely farther than an appropriate familial distance.

The three ate in silence for a few minutes before Mr. Thomas spoke again. “So, Patton, what are you planning on doing after high school? Virgil said he wanted to be a graphic designer, but he’s probably going to take up the family business. Arts degrees are just a waste of time and money; better to strive to be successful on the first try and not have to go back.”

Patton stiffened almost imperceptibly. “I was planning on going to school to be a therapist, but being a stay-at-home dad seems like a pretty nice idea, too.”

“Psychology is an interesting subject; I’d have to agree.” Mr. Thomas shifted his focus to his son. “Now, Virgil, what did you say you wanted to focus on in school? Something with video making?”

“It was video game design, but I’m not going after that, anymore. It was a stupid fever dream.” None of the food on Virgil’s plate was making it to his mouth; it had merely been stirred into a gloopy mess. He already felt like shit about himself, but leave it to his dad to be make him feel even worse.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.” Virgil all but jumped up and sprinted from the room. 

Within a few seconds, he locked the door to the upstairs bathroom behind him. Virgil turned his head and stared at the reflection in the mirror. It looked nothing like him. The Virgil in the mirror was normal; he had no flaws, and he was the perfect son. His goals were steep but attainable, and he never said anything out of line. The real Virgil was anything but.

The real Virgil was a gigantic disappointment. He wanted to go into the arts, not business management. He had an attitude problem and a “screw The Man” ideology that ended up getting him into more trouble that necessary, yet he never changed his ways. The real Virgil was an emotional mess, not knowing how to properly express himself except through suicide or self harm. He was pathetic and stupid and, quite frankly, “too gay to function,” as his dad would say. There was no place in this world for the real him. Every single fucking time that his father was around, the façade was put up in some wimpy attempt to deflect some of the hateful words that would always be thrown his way.

And that’s when he broke. Tears streamed down his face, and choked sobs ran through his body. He thought he’d been getting better, but who was he kidding? This was the same old Virgil who’d attempted suicide not once--not twice. No, he’d attempted to fucking kill himself four times. But thank god that he’d survived! The world obviously needed Virgil Thomas’ fucking presence to keep it spinning.

Virgil gripped at his hair. He’d left his phone at the table, but he needed an escape from the emotions berating him.

Think, Virgil! There’s gotta be something that can help you.

His blurry eyes scanned the counter before landing on a familiar piece of metal.

Yes.

Virgil reached out and grabbed the blade, flipping it open with ease. Memories of the past flitted through his mind. Ones where he’d said “just one last time” with false hopes that it’d be true, but the very next day, he’d be back in this bathroom, washing blood out of the tub. Weakness. Had he included that on his list? Because Virgil Thomas was weak.

“Just one last time,” he mocked as the blade sliced the skin of his forearm.

Pathetic. What kind of fucking child do you have to be to continually come back to a blade to solve your problems?

Another cut. And another. It was so calming--so ridiculously relaxing to watch the red blood splatter on the perfectly white floor where it mixed with his tears to make a watercolor painting.

Faggot. Nobody will love someone who’s gay, loser! Think of Jason. He ruined you.

A knock on the door jerked Virgil out of his daze, making him drop the knife in the process.

“Hey, Virgil? Are you okay? I can hear you crying, kiddo,” Patton worried; his words filtered through the door with a slight resonance.

“I’m fine, Patton. Don’t worry.” Yeah fucking right.

“Virge, please just let me in.” There was no way that Patton would take no for an answer.

“Okay.” Virgil pulled his sleeves down harshly, smearing a bit of blood onto his hands. He stepped in front of the blade and blood, trying to hide it from Pat’s prying eyes as he opened the door. A fake smile was plastered onto Virgil’s face. “See--”

“Is that blood?” Patton gasped and snatched Virgil’s wrists up. With an unprecedented gentleness, he rolled up the jumper sleeves that had started to plaster themselves to his arms. The look of worry on Pat’s face soon turned to one of pure anger.

He’s mad. You’ve upset him, and he’s going to kick you out. Maybe he’s finally realized what a mistake it was to save you--

“How dare your dad think he can say things like that to his own son! You deserve so fucking much, Virgil--in fact, you deserve the world. Yet here’s this asshole who won’t give you a god damn break, bringing you to hurt yourself because he can’t keep his idiocy to himself! Grab that towel; we’re going downstairs.” Patton stormed out the room and down the stairs. Virgil followed a few paces behind, terrified out of his mind.

“Mr. Thomas! With all due respect--which is none, by the way--who the absolute fuck do you think you are to think that it’s okay to ridicule your own child like that?” Virgil’s dad opened his mouth to speak, but Pat cut him off. “No! You fucking listen to me; you’re a terrible father! Your child should never be brought to self harm as a coping mechanism--especially not by his own fucking father. Are you fucking kidding? Who gave you the right to do this? First, you spend all of your time away from Virgil, and then you go about barely ever talking to him, and to top it all off, you give him shit for everything that he has a fucking passion for!”

Both Virgil and his father were completely silent. Neither had expected such an outburst from the docile kid between them.

After a long few moments, Virgil said, “Let’s go, Pat.”

Virgil and Patton quickly left the house, not stopping until they were a street away. Patton called his mom to tell her to pick them up, and they sat on the curb to wait.

“Thank you, Patton. For standing up to me. Nobody’s ever done that before.” Virgil’s voice was soft and genuine. A little fluttering sensation rose in Pat’s stomach as he leaned towards his friend.

“It’s no problem, Virge.”

chapter 11