#and then i think about all the people eho do not give a shit about me vs the people who are kind to me jist that easily

[newvegascowboy]

sometimes the post dnd hang sesh leads to you sobbing on a discord call about the nature of coming out to people and theres nothing you can fucking do about it ig

[legislativelevon]

yknow sometimes it's just hard. having to keep up apperenced n shit in the internet, it really sucks. I can't act on something without the feeling of being watched. fuck everyone still arguing about this STILL (talking about you twitter)

I just want to clear things up because people can be so ridiculous.

I DO block people for just liking ranfren. what about it? I feel like I have more than enough reasoning. EXAMPLES:

- they're the ones literally drawing porn of me and my characters (I know you privated the telegram chat, I can still see it losers.)

-they're the ones writing nasty sex poems about me

-they're the ones mainly harassing me and sending me death threats (which mostly happened on Twitter and when I first got on tumblr.)

-they're the ones making all the fucked up hateful shit (remember lucid666? I know you do.)

-they're the ones criticizing me every single thing I do on the internet. did I really say any weird shit? talking about this one twitter user eho claimed I said something about being the "better ranfren" you think I wanted this? you really do? I didn't give myself that label, YOU GUYS DID!!! LIKE BRO!!! and you think it was unnecessary for me to post those emails on my twitter? how do you think I felt posting those? do you think I wanted a conversation with a so-called shotacon private? so I added a tangy caption, who cares? a bunch of other people were ragging on them.

Just see on how much improvement I've made over the months. I don't want to be compared like this anymore, or ragged on. I don't want people saying "I hate how the situation turned out" how the fuck did you think if was gonna turn out? I'm not a fucking internet spectacle, I'm a person with feelings that sees every single public message you send, and some private ones too!

there's more I want to say, but I got shit to do

sorry for spelling mistakes, I'll fix them later. appreciate it

if anyone wants photo proof, I got it covered. just not on here, I don't want to dirty my blog

[ephemeralsx]

they hate on feyre because they wish nesta and elain had the relevance in the series that feyre has as the heroine, it’s not even in the characters the fans are just immature and so because people self insert they do that with the sisters and have to be either to soft girl like elain or the bitchy one like nesta no grey area personality like feyre where she’s a mix of both, they need to be either the “cold girl boss” or “the princess type” character, because this series isn’t that complex and feyre hasn’t done much wrong at all to warrant the fanbases dramatics but this is just an immature petty fanbase that self inserts onto the sisters so they trash on feyre with whatever made up nonsense they come up with all while wishing their characters had what feyre has. her storyline, man, powers and title.

they lie and claim they don’t think she’s interesting of course just to seem superior all while elain and nesta are less impressive than feyre. they don’t have her powers of each court, they aren’t the first and only high lady like she is, they aren’t mated to the most powerful fae to ever exist, the lord of night, they aren’t lady of the night court, they aren’t as important to the inner circle as feyre is having met them all first giving them their first nephew, they don’t have cass or az as a high lord who calls all the shots with BDE, they don’t have the most popular love story of sjm’s, they don’t have the beautiful storyline that feyre has nor do they have a glow up story like hers (from neglected, bullied, manipulated, beaten, starved and killed to strong happy powerful wealthy first high lady, rhys’ only ever lover we know of (az and cass have histories which nesta and elain stan’s hate) she’s come a long way, is known as their country’s savior for freeing them all as cleverly as she did. what did nesta and elain ever do? i like elain! i don’t even hate nesta. but it’s easy to clear a nesta or elain stan when they’ve barely got anything going for them compared to their younger sister. don’t self insert too much guys to where you lose sight of how uninteresting your faves really are…feyre stan’s can at least say we aren’t deluded, jealous or miserable as hell 😂 at least we got three books dedicated to us and a novella. what do nesta and elain get? one book each? a less iconic love story than feysand? don’t piss a feysand off yall, bc it’s so easy to shit on her sisters and we’ll all happily do it. we win because the sisters stan’s will always have to deal with feysand being the more important and popular in the series regardless of them getting books sjm will always involve them and make them important as leaders of their family.

i mostly agree with you! its insane to me how someone can absolutely hate a main character eho has 3 books completely in her pov, like if you dislike it so much stop reading it and stop bitching about it.

i actually love nesta, but i can admit that the abuse towards feyre in their childhood is very much real, and honestly makes me sick when i think about it. feyre deserves all the apologies from them. and nesta did apologise, thats why i love her, she grew as a character and found her true self. i won’t share my opinion about elain for the sake of my sanity bc i don’t want elain stans attacking me, plus my opinion about her is pretty irrelevant for this topic.

anyways, i wouldn’t say nesta is less impressive than feyre. of course, over the course of 4 books, feyre had more history since nesta hasn’t really been a main character since lately. i love feysand, to be honest, even more than nessian, but i think the reason for that is just because we know them the best. if nesta was the main character from the start, things would look way different. even tho acosf was like a bible long book, i feel like nessian was rushed and a bit of a disappointment (too centered on lust instead of love in my opinion).

but anyways, you’re right, *some* nesta or elain stans lose themselves in the role of the icy bitch or the flowery princess and often overlook or even hate on feyre. which makes me incredibly sad because i relate with feyre the most. the kid who always got overlooked but was still faced with the burden if responsibility.

calling feyre boring or irrelevant just because she settled down and just wants to be happy is so incredibly wrong. think about her whatever you want, but some hate is out of pocket and just unnecessary

[tuuzmorado]

This year hasn't been my year. Or anyone's tbh 😞

[artlessictoan]

this one’s actually a request I got on the ao3 version of this drabble collection, butch!sak/tomboy!hina coffe shop au! and is this the first coffee shop au I’ve ever done?? I think it might be!

(requests open)

(ao3 mirror)

---

It had been a long morning and Hinata desperately needed caffeine.

She’d had to wake up hellishly early – which might’ve been fine if she hadn’t been up until three in the morning desperately trying to finish her thesis in time for her first class – then spent almost an hour being jerked around by the aggressively indifferent receptionist of her school’s laboratory, before learning that the time she had booked for her vital preliminary experiments, had in fact been given to another student and the next available slot wasn’t until the end of the week. Handily throwing a wrench in her entire year’s calendar that she would be trying to work around for months to come.

And, on top of all that, the heavens had opened up the second she stepped outside, releasing several days’ worth of water all at once, leaving her to trudge home through a downpour, or hang out in the waiting room of the lab until it passed.

With the smirking receptionist, who she was too polite to tell to fuck himself, but who she dearly hoped would suffer several minor inconveniences for the rest of the day.

She chose the cold, wet walk instead.

Perhaps it had been a mistake, she could probably have found an empty classroom to quietly study in for an hour or so if she’d tried, but with her mind only lightly tethered to reality in her current state, it was more likely she would’ve just had a cry-nap instead.

It wouldn’t be the first time, but if a lecturer found her like that again, someone was bound to try and contact her father to inform him of her struggles, and he would wield that knowledge like a sledgehammer against her dreams of a career of her own; one without constant parental oversight and criticism.

She was absolutely not going to let that happen. Right now, however, what mattered most was getting out of the rain.

Squinting against the water running off the hood of her coat, she searched for somewhere – anywhere – that she could duck into and while away the time until her next lecture in a few hours. When she spotted a small café tucked away between a derelict bookstore and a corner shop that proudly called itself ‘Cheap-mart’ she didn’t care how dingy it looked, she just threw open the doors and shook herself off like a dog the second she was inside.

The barista leaning against the counter with his head in his hand glanced up at her; she offered him an awkward smile as she tried to brush down her damp hair. He returned with his own smile, one somehow even more awkward than her own, but straightened up and waved her over.

“Welcome, what can I get for you today?”

She didn’t bother to peruse the blackboards painted up behind him. “Black coffee, thank you.” Definitely not a drink that fit her usual tastes – she was more of a tea person – but she was about five seconds from collapsing on the cold, hard floor and wanted as little diluting the terrible, life-giving substance as possible.

If she’d had a syringe with her, she would have injected it directly into her bloodstream.

“Can I interest you in something to eat?” he asked, voice robotic and smile unnaturally fixed in place. “A sandwich, perhaps even one of our homemade cakes?”

The word ‘cake’ immediately caught her fraying attention and she stared into the glass display to scrutinise the options available with the same keen eye she would use for chemical analysis. It was actually quite impressive how… unappetizing they all looked; sponges were wonky, frosting looked like it had been applied with a slingshot, one was painted in the garish colours of a toddler given free reign of the crayon box and they had apparently all been cut with a chainsaw, she had no other explanation for the crumbling edges and uneven slices.

“I’ll have the coffee and walnut.” She glanced back outside, noting that the storm didn’t look like it would be passing any time soon and she had already skipped breakfast. “Actually, make that two slices.”

Dark eyes blinked at her in pure shock, before the man wordlessly fulfilled her order, only breaking his silence to tell her the cost and exchange cash.

She barely noticed, taking her plate and her cup and her sopping bag, she stumbled to the nearest table and sank down into the wooden chair like it was a plush, feather pillow. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the barista slipping through a door that presumably led to a kitchen; she might’ve found that a bit unprofessional, if it weren’t for the fact that she was literally the only customer in right now.

As she gulped down half of her coffee – grimacing at the taste, but pushing through it regardless – she wondered if the place was always this quiet. Sure, it was a little out of the way and if she hadn’t been looking for somewhere to escape the weather, she probably wouldn’t have noticed it was even there, but it had a stylish interior, wall painted with abstract ink patterns and rustic furniture.

And, when she shoved a generous forkful of cake into her mouth, she had to wonder even more about how a café with such incredible goods had flown so completely under the radar.

She literally closed her eyes and moaned.

Her fatigue was completely forgotten as she eagerly shovelled another mouthful between her lips, then another, and another. She was onto the second slice in about thirty seconds.

“Holy shit, I didn’t actually believe it…”

Hinata glanced up, absolutely no clue who would be disturbing her mid-meal and, even if her mouth hadn’t been full of soft, melting deliciousness, she probably wouldn’t have been able to say anything.

The short, stocky woman, with arms practically bursting out of the sleeves of her chef’s jacket – which presumably had been white at one point, but was now littered with so many stains in basically every conceivable colour that it was basically tie-dye – pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down heavily, crossing her arms on the table and leaning forwards with a slight frown. “Someone actually bought a cake.”

She was still chewing and had to wash down her bite with a generous gulp of coffee, just to respond.

“Huh?”

Very eloquent. Her father would be proud.

“No one buys the cake, we get about fifteen customers a day, I would remember someone buying the cake before-” she jerked a thumb in the direction of the barista leaning boredly against the counter “-Sai was so shocked he immediately came into the kitchen to tell me about it.”

That a customer actually choosing to eat the food on offer was such an anomaly that the chef had to come out of the kitchen, just to see if it was true, was a damning report on the state of their business. “Really?” she asked, looking down at the slice on her plate. “I can’t imagine why, it’s delicious.”

Dark brows narrowed over her green, green eyes. “Are you making fun of me? Did my mother send you here? Are you an EHO?” The woman was standing up now, leaning ever further into her personal space, flour-covered hands steady on either side of the table. With her face only a few inches away, Hinata could pick out individual pores on her nose and several old, faded scars. “I assure you; all my paperwork is up to date,” she said slowly, in such a low, threatening tone that left Hinata less assured than ever before.

She waved her hands in front of her face and backed away as far as the chair would let her. “I don’t’ know what that means and I came here on my own, I just… really like the cake?”

The speed at which the chef’s entire demeanour switched left Hinata feeling a little dizzy. Suddenly her bright eyes were sparkling and she had a wide, toothy grin stretching across her face as she asked, “For real? Even though it looks like absolute dogshit?”

“Well, as long as it tastes good, I don’t think the appearance really matters that much.” A statement easily reinforced by the fact that she was wearing an old, faded hoodie and some leggings she’d technically bought just for the gym, but were so comfortable that they’d wormed their way into her everyday wardrobe anyway.

Also, she was still soaked through and probably looked like a bedraggled cat, but she was trying to ignore that right now.

“Finally, someone who appreciates my genius!” Slapping a hand against the table hard enough to make it rock on its uneven legs, she turned around to shout at her co-worker, “You hear that Sai?”

“As glad as I am to have a satisfied customer, I would point you to the forty-seven other slices of cake that have been consistently rejected by everyone else who’s come in today.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but Hinata got the feeling that he really was trying his best. “You can’t decorate cakes for shit and no one wants to eat them.”

The scoff and dramatic rolling of eyes suggested that this was a regular argument for these two. “Ignore him, he just thinks that he’s a better artist than me-”

“I am an objectively better artist than you.”

“Anyway-” she displayed a middle finger at him over her shoulder, all while keeping her gaze fixed on Hinata “-I’m really glad you like the cake, I know my presentation’s a bit… rough, but I know what tastes good, just wish more people would give it a chance.”

Hinata had to give a wobbly smile at the woman’s childish pout; ohhh she was in trouble. “You do have a talent for flavour, I must admit,” she said, “I think this is the best coffee cake I’ve ever had.”

“Right? I’ve been playing around with some ideas for new recipes- actually wait here a sec, I’ll go cut you off some samples.” She was charging through the door leading to the kitchen before Hinata could object, but, looking at the rain still hammering down against the windows and taking another bite of beautifully soft cake… she could think of worse ways to spend an afternoon than being fed a selection of baked goods by an incredibly handsome woman with biceps that could probably crush steel.

Maybe she could even come up with an excuse to touch them. Just to satisfy her scientific curiosity.

---

By the time the rain had settled down to a slow drizzle, she had completely forgotten everything that led her to the café in the first place, so distracted was she by chatting to the charmingly exuberant chef – who was called Sakura, she quickly learned.

They had shared several slices of experimental cakes and, while none of them looked very pretty, Hinata had been blow away by the taste each and every time.

If her alarm hadn’t started buzzing insistently, she would’ve happily spent the whole day getting lost in sugar and soft pink hair and distractingly shifting muscles and a boisterous, snorting laugh that had absolutely no right being as cute as she found it. Alas, she still had classes that she could not afford to skip and she really shouldn’t keep Sakura from her work for any longer. Even if she didn’t seem to have much to do.

As she gathered her things and pulled on her coat, she glanced down at the woman with a soft smile. “Thank you for all the wonderful food, and conversation.” She rummaged through her bag and drew out her wallet, dropping a few notes in the tip jar as she passed. One benefit to coming from a wealthy family, she afford to be very generous.

Sai grinned at her, slapping a hand over Sakura’s mouth before she could object to the payment – and judging from the look in her bright eyes, that was almost certainly what she was planning.

Rolling her eyes as she pushed his hand away, she leaned over the counter to grin widely at Hinata. “Please, come again!”

“Yes, and bring friends with you next time, as you can see, we’re pretty desperate for business.”

“Idiot, don’t tell that to the customers!” Sakura yelled, slapping a hand to her forehead hard enough to leave a red mark there.

He gave her a Look. “It’s advertising.”

“No, it’s desperation, you better not have been telling that to everyone who comes in here.”

“Are we not desperate?” He asked, voice completely even and reasonable. “Do I have to show you our account books again? Maybe you should focus on trying to find a cake decorating course, before you start criticising me.”

Hinata laughed softly to herself, but not quietly enough that she didn’t catch the attention of both workers. She smiled at the pair, marvelling at their bizarre friendship that she wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of. “I’ll tell everyone I know that the food here is delicious and they need to come try it-” she glanced at Sakura, who was almost glowing at the compliment, and had to duck her head to hide her blush “-and I live pretty close by, I’m sure I’ll be coming in here a lot more too.”

Before she could rush out of the doors, a voice called out to her, “Hey, what’s your favourite kind of cake? I wanna make it for the next time you come here.”

She stopped and had to take several calming breaths before turning around. “Anything with cinnamon,” she said, not wanting to give herself too much hope, but unable to deny the rush of excitement fizzing through her veins at the thought of spending more time – much more time – with the wonderful, strange, charming baker.

Sakura nodded, eyes already sparking with ideas. “Alright, I’ll make you something amazing, you better come back to taste it soon!”

“I will,” she said, stepping out into the damp afternoon, feeling lighter than air and ready to take on the whole world.

---

[lokloklok256]

k so.. this is probably an unpopular opinion but...

what the hell is up with 'trans pride'?

you think I'm PROUD to feel like absolute shit? you think i'm PROUD of being unhappy and uncomfortable? you think i'm PROUD to have people look at me and see a small fucking girl? you think i'm PROUD OF THAT?? i get shat on, i get treated like i don't know what the fuck i want or who the fuck i am, i get told i'm fucking confused, i get treated like shit, i get told that my happiness and comfort don't mean dog shit, and i get treated like my fucking mental disorder means fucking nothing and i should just deal with it and be happy. its a fucking mental disorder. don't fucking tell me its not. its not a choice. and its not ok. its not fucking ok that there are people that have to live with this. this shouldn't fucking be a thing.

i don't know what the fuck is up with you, but this is not something to feel proud of. when you hear someone is trans, you should fucking feel sorry for them. pat them on the back. give them a hug. fucking hell. I'm not going to fucking wave around a flag that tells everyone that i feel like shit. i don't want people knowing I'm trans. i don't fucking want it being obvious. you wouldn't fucking be proud of having ocd or schizophrenia, so why the FUCK be happy about this?!?!

i swear to god.

i.. i think I've only heard someone point this out once, but fuck you I'm gonna say it.

lgbt shit is fucking popular right now.

everyone's fucking going crazy about lgbt shit (mostly on the internet). its the same as being almost-racist to full-racist about- mostly black people, but lots of others too. like somehow because our ancestors were pieces of shit to their ancestors, that somehow fucking means we owe them. yes, they were assholes, and i want to cry for those slaves. but that already happened. we can't do anything about it. we can't change it. all we can do is be kind and loving to each other now. EQUALLY. its exactky like that. like we just fucking jave this tendency of thinking we owe people for their ancestors and completely going overboard trying to make yp for it. (I'm now making shit tons if spelling errors and i don't care cause I'm fucking fed up with my damn keyboard and autocorrect.) it is in the past. hug the older people eho are gay and went through shit. hug the younger people eho still go through shit. (oh my fucking god two ehos I'm gonna fucking lose my mind anf eat my phone) its not nearly as bad as it was. there are so many people who can be happy now. be happy for them. BUT DON'T FUCKING WORSHIP THEM. god damn it man its a fucking gay man, so what?!?! he's no damn different, treat him fuckin equally! don't get all damn exited cause "ooh oh my god yer gay??? i want a gay friend!! be my firend and paint my naisl and go shopping with me!!!"

ya knwo how many damn gay men are a million miles from feminine?? quit that shit.

all these fuckin damn youtubers i see fuckin goin "AAAAH MY GAAAAAHD IM GAAAAAAIIIIIII" oh wow really that has such a large effect on my personal life i care so much that you prefer that gender over the other.

being gay is literally the same as preferring soft bacon over cruspy bacon. its one little tiny detail in the HUGE-ass pile of details that make up the type of person you prefwr.

ugh

ugh

ugh

ugh

uugghh..........

..

stop

fucking-

screaming like a damn tween girl over this shit.

trans. ok.

gay. ok.

don fuckin matter.

why?

cause its like soft fuckin bacon over crispy fuckin bacon.

i have more male instincts and feel extremely uncomfortable in my body. please, feel bad for me, do not fucking cheer me on. this is not fun. its not.

i prefer the male body. wow. so crazy. it couldn't fucking effect your life less. even if you have a problem with it, it couldn't effect your life less.

my preference don't mean shit,

and my pain is pain, not confetti.

so there.

that's my point, and I'm angry.

don't go along with something just because everyone else is. please. please don't.