#for two years to get it in a functional state and finally doing it is wild

[counterspellthisyoucasual]

Will I do something if you ask me to? No. Will I spend over 3 hours trying to get the oldest Mac in existence to a functional level cause I like solving problem?? Absolutely

[catboybiologist]

I see you talk a lot about hrt and you seem pretty informed. I also see that you have had really good effects from hrt.

So what I wonder is how much you think it is luck and genetics vs you making the right choices. I can't help but be jealous sometimes. I've had rotten luck and ok genetics it seems.

What's your take on this? Do you think you've been lucky or do you think everyone can do it like you have if they just did it the same way?

So whenever I answer an ask like this, I end up getting spammed with a ton of hrt related questions, and it gets a bit exhausting. So here's my usual disclaimer: I'm not a doctor, nor any kind of medical professional. I'm not an expert on this. I have a little more knowledge about the theory behind hrt than the average person, but not the medical practice. I'm just giving my experiences here.

So I couldn't say for sure, but I think the answer is both? I can't say how much luck is a component, but that said, I think that there's a lot that helped me out just from the troubleshooting end.

This answer ended up being long, so here's a tl;dr:

Be liberal on your estrogen, conservative on your antiandrogen. Eat a lot, exercise a lot.

Huge ramble under the cut.

It's hard to say that I looked feminine pre HRT. I had (and still somewhat have) all of the "ultra masculine" skeletal features that make people think their transition is going to go poorly, but the soft tissue changes have reframed how they look and function. I used to think that I would never come close to looking feminine without super intense FFS, and that feeling is almost completely gone now. So I didn't feel particularly lucky going into any of this. Now I do, and I'm finally actually relaxing how good hrt has been to me.

I did several things that I think accelerated my hrt. Unfortunately, I can't have a control group here. I also operated over a short period of time, during a period where hrt has a variety of effects. I have no way to tell for sure if these things did anything, or if it's all just masked by standard hrt progress, which comes and goes in bursts.

Also note: I don't think anything has dramatically affected my "final" results. I think there's a lot of things that have accelerated my results. But with ongoing, years long processes like HRT, the biggest, key ingredient is PATIENCE. I keep seeing 2 years thrown around like it's the end of hrt progress. This is, quite frankly, ridiculous. 2 years is startup and troubleshooting time. Whatever development happens in the first two years is a bonus, not a normal timeline.

So never, ever feel like you've fucked up your transition for good. You can always tweak it. And, you can always wait.

That all said, here's the bulleted list of the things that I think contributed:

Intensely focusing on getting my blood estrogen high. Stop thinking about dosages, start thinking about levels. From anecdotes I've seen, most doctors will underdose your estradiol. You should be shooting for 200pg/mL minimum. Many doctors will use this as a maximum. That is outdated information. Your estrogen should be on the high side of cis women ranges. If you're lost, use cis women metrics as a guide, or the WPATH. Personally, I've been blessed with a fantastic provider that I've never had to push back to or argue with, but I've heard some nasty horror stories.

Note that achieving the level I said above is often difficult with pills. Pills do have a maximum safe dosage because of liver metabolism. This will vary from person to person. But if you're getting past 8mg oral per day, consider switching to injections, patches, or gels. These methods bypass digestion and (somewhat) dodge the liver, making it easier to safely get higher blood levels. Even if you try to take them sublingually, a lot still ends up consumed orally.

HRT methods that allow for large differences between estrogen highs and lows seem to be more effective than steady state HRT. This is completely shooting in the dark here, but from my vague anecdotes from comparing injections with peaks and troughs to more steady (but still lover bypassing) methods, it still seems like injections are somewhat more effective. That is not a scientific assessment at all. But that's the only explanation I could think of that matches a little bit of what's known about hormonal physiology

With everything above: if possible, drop your antiandrogen ASAP. A pattern I've seen over, and over, and over again, is trans women being overdosed on antiandrogens while simultaneously being underdosed on estradiol itself. Remember: sufficiently high levels of blood estrogen are antiandrogenic on their own. If you need a AA to keep your T or other androgens low, your E is likely too low anyways. There's multiple reasons why having too much androgen suppression without raising estradiol is bad, but for a whirlwind summary, there's two things I would break it down to. One, having too low of both T and E is really bad, and is basically one of the only ways you can do HRT "wrong" in a way that's medically harmful (the other being stressing your liver). It has effects both short term (mood, metabolism, and energy) and long term (bone density and general growth). Also keep in mind that cis women have androgens too- and you need to make sure you're not over suppressing androgens to below cis female levels. Two, antiandrogens are rarely just an antiandrogen. As opposed to hormones themselves, which are found in your body anyways and are "understood" signals for your genes (among other things), antiandrogens are operating based on how we develop their effects as pharmaceuticals. Does this mean they're intrinsically bad? No. Don't fall into a "natural is better" fallacy. However, it's worth noting that AAs can have effects beyond just androgen suppression because they're not an endogenous signalling molecule. One of these effects might be overall suppression of growth and development. That is wildly unconfirmed, I know transfemmescience disagrees and has a pretty thorough breakdown, but unfortunately there's too much variability in individual trans women's HRT regimens to have consistent studies on fine details like that imo. Again, this is my opinion as a patient, not as an expert.

Don't start progesterone too early. I'd say delay it more than the general advice. 6 months after good blood levels is probably good. Notably, it's probably not a good idea to start it 6 months after the first pill crosses your tongue. Wait for the levels. Probably not that big of a deal though.

This last one I'm incredibly reluctant to even talk about, but I've been coming to the conclusion more and more that it was a fairly major factor in my progress. I didn't do it intentionally but it 100% happened. And that is weight cycling. From January to August of 2024, I dropped almost 30 pounds from training for backpacking and actually doing rigorous backpacking for 3 months. I've gained back all of that weight since. Most of my notable soft tissue and appearance changes have happened as a function of putting that weight back on. This isn't just about chest or thigh growth. My face was thin at my lowest weight, and when I put weight back on, soft tissue in my face has grown back in with a far more feminine look. I do NOT like talking about this, though. Why? Because I think deliberately weight cycling is more dangerous and hurtful than it is helpful. Diet culture, counting calories, and constantly comparing your weight and progress to others is an easy way to an easier disorder. If you develop habits centered around those things, that will fuck up your life permanently. What would I recommend instead? High input, high output. Eat a LOT, exercise a LOT. Get into a steady state with that. It's much healthier long term. Remember, at best, weight cycling is an acceleration, not working towards better "permanent" results.

And uh, I think that's it? Again, keep in mind that the main ingredient is patience. All of this is about making things faster, not making things better in the long run. If any of this seems unattainable for you, then don't worry! All you gotta do is wait.

And again, not medical advice, not scientific rigor, just anecdotes and what worked for me.

I don't have a better way to end this other than good luck? And also that you're probably being too hard on yourself anyways.

[charmedsquirell]

How I got into the void

Hey guys,

My name is Sylvie. i want to share that two years ago, I started to look into the void state because I was in bad place in my life. I wanted to be useful for my family and give them everything in an instant. I downloaded tumblr and started to follow all the blogs I could find. I found a lot of information. Most of it contradicted one another and that confused me a lot. The people that helped me the most were b4ddprincess, lucky kiwii, adambja and wizlizbelle. When Wizliz left, i also deleted my tumblr since she was the only one who i used to rant to and i was really suicidal.

i found her again and started to ranting to her about my life which was irritating and I'm sure like most bloggers do not want to be trauma dumped on but i just did not have anyone on my side. But I wanted to make this post bc i know her blog doesn't exist anymore but there were people who wanted to know more about this stuff. I basically asked for tarot readings from her so i could see why it was not working for me and i would like ask every single day. one day she told me that my only problem is resistance. I will try my best to explain it like she did.

so basically the ego feeds on resistance because it knows you do not believe in the positive things you tell it fully and some people have their ego under control, some people do not. I used to do like 4 hour non stop affirming every day and it did not work for me. so she said stop affirming, stop asking tarot, and give in to the voice. I was like is she guiding me to do the wrong thing but then she said it helped her a lot. So i was not believing in this but i did it (she sent a script of what to say) and the voice came

"you will never date Alek and he will never love you" and i said "yeah i know. and?"

"you will never lose weight and be fat forever" and i said " yeah i won't. and?"

"you will never enter the void state" and i said "yeah i know i won't, and?" and then the voice like just stopped. there was nothing. literally nothing and my mind had never ever been clear. so i teold her like this happened and she says "you basically tamed your ego and put it to sleep by giving it what it wanted to hear but because you've been affirming and trying all these methods in your past, your subconscious will not buy into negtivity. Your subconscious is the part of your brain that cannot function on its own and blindly believes you. It cannot even see what u see."

i was literally so shocked because i would always affirm "no! he will love me and i'll enter the void" like trying to convince the go but wiz said that you can tame the ego and make it work for you instead of trying to convince it. when you agree with it, it becomes silent. like oh she gave me what i wanted to hear, now what? so now when i would think "the void is hard" automatically i would hear "no it's not". like not even me saying it but just a same voice that would be negative before.

look, i do not really care for like what is and what is not or whatever drama that happened. and it was bad to see her go but the truth is that we do not need to hear from others. Of course if she had not told me, i would not know but sometimes putting in the work does more damage than good sometimes and i used to see many like me here.

So then finally i tried this at night, when lying down i let the negativity came in and i did not resist it. when my mind became completely silent (it took maybe one to two minutes) i said "i am in the void" and i felt no resistance. then i did not expect anything but just to affirm over and over. finally i was there. it was the void and i knew because i did not even feel my whole body just like a floating thing like ball of light. I affirmed that my dad would get his job back and my bf would love me. i affirmed for losing weight. all that came true so fast but i spent time in the void. when i woke up, i had it. my dad was happy he brought sweets to celebrate. everything else came true as well. so now i come back to tumblr to say goodbye again that maybe we have to work with us and not against.

just to be safe, this is just my experience and i'm not gonna like respond or anything bc i do not want to be a blogger especially after seeing the drama. you may not feel this way but this worked for me. maybe it will work for you and maybe not.

[sugarwarachan]

can i help you? - ft. k. nanami

summary: you and Nanami Kento don't get along. in fact, you're convinced that the two of you might hate each other. now if only you'd stop fantasizing about him...

wc: 2k

pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

content warnings: smut mdni, dom/sub elements although never explicitly stated, praise, degradation, vaginal fingering, oral f!receiving, dirty talk, munch!nanami kento

a/n: you ever get so horny for a bunch of pixels you can't function?

"Do you need something or not?"

Nanami looks unfairly good for how angry he is, arms crossed at his chest, biceps bulging under that ridiculously soft sweater Shoko brought him for Christmas last year.

For months now, the two of you have been at each other's throats. You don't work well together; at this point, you're convinced Gojo sticks you two on missions just to fuck with you, his shit-eating grin practically ripping his face in half when he hands out assignments.

Why did you think this was a good idea?

You're dressed in what you call your fuck-me-please clothes: small black skirt, skimpy red top, too-tall heels, no jacket. It's the perfect outfit for sitting at the hotel bar and getting hit on.

It's also the perfect outfit to finally seduce your infuriating coworker.

You can't backtrack now.

Nanami's eyes fix you in place, annoyance in his expression evident. "Well?"

And just like that, your courage evaporates like smoke.

To save face, you shrug and adopt a casual tone. “I wanted your opinion on a curse user's technique, but it can wait until the morning. Sorry for barging in on you like it was life or death.” You try laughing but it sounds more like a pathetic wheeze. You need to get away from this doorway. "Night, Nanami."

His hand catches your forearm. The strength in his grip sends a zip of electricity along your skin. Sometimes you forget just how big Nanami is, with his broad shoulders and strong thighs and perfect fucking hands.

"You're lying," is all he says.

All you can think to do is scoff. It's a terrible habit you've carried with you your whole life; Nanami will see you through it in an instant.

“Why the fuck would I lie?”

“Because you’re embarrassed to tell me you barged into my room tonight dressed like you’re begging for dick.”

Heat flushes over your face so fast you're surprised you don't pass out. You've never heard him talk like this before.

“I’m not dressed like that, you asshole,” you say angrily, hating yourself for not just telling him the truth, that you're actually dressed this way because you want to drive him crazy—

Nanami's sigh cuts through the noise in your head. “It wasn’t an insult, although I'm sorry for how crassly I put it. It's just—you’d never go out this late on a Tuesday, and you’re not the kind to sit in a hotel bar looking for a hookup."

You haven't moved from the doorway. If anyone walks out and sees you, standing here in your tiny little outfit—

He steps forward. You realize he hasn't let go of you. "So that leaves me with only one explanation. You wanted me to see you look like this."

Another furious blush takes over. Your cheeks probably match the top, now.

"Nanami—"

"I want an answer, y/n."

The command in his voice makes you shiver. You step forward and place a hand on his chest. He's doing a pretty good job of it, but he's affected, too.

"Yes," you admit, and the confession feels like water sliding down your skin, it's so simple in its truth. "I wanted you to see me like this.”

Nanami lets out a harsh breath. "Get inside."

He pulls you in against his chest, brushing his lips against your temple. Something within you relaxes infinitesimally at the gesture.

The door closes behind you both with a faint click.

Cupping your jaw, he angles your chin up to him. “Now tell me why.”

How? Months of sexual tension unravel in your head. You've probably wanted him since you met him, if you're being honest with yourself. He's by the book and infuriatingly logical, but something about that has scratched at your brain for so long that you go to bed and dream of him, waking up sticky between your thighs and desperate to cum.

“It’s embarrassing.”

Nanami pulls out a very un-Nanami-like gesture and rolls his eyes. “No, it isn’t. Tell me what you want.”

But it is embarassing, can't he not see that?

"You don't even like me."

His brow scrunches adorably, the expression making him look more human. "What on earth makes you say that?"

You point out every mission you've been on, all the lectures he crashed just to make needling comments—

"Ah," he holds a hand up to stop you. He sits down heavily on the bed. "Gojo was right."

This throws you. "Gojo was right?"

Nanami winces. "He mentioned you may have this assumption about my feelings for you."

You haven't moved on from Nanami confiding in that white-haired menace. "You spoke to Gojo about this?"

"I was at a loss as to why you infuriated me as much as you did."

You wonder if he's telling you this to give you leverage, to make you feel a little bit better about confiding in him. You cannot imagine that conversation with Gojo was anything other than relentless teasing.

"I want to be taken care of," you confess.

He's been playing with his hands as you both talk, his long fingers woven together. His hands still when his eyes lock with yours. "Does it matter who takes care of you?"

Your lungs get tight. You nod.

"Whenever I think about it, it's you."

The noise he makes is half strangled groan, half growl. It makes your pussy clench.

"Come here and sit on my lap, sweetheart."

You comply before you can think, legs spreading wide to fit on either side of his thighs.

His hands sink into the meat of your hips.

"I said sit."

He presses you down onto him, the length of his erection sliding in between the folds of your pussy. You're already drenched, just from a few fucking words, just from his voice—

"That's my girl," he praises in your ear and you feel the sentiment burst low in your gut. He moves you along the ridge of his thick cock, grunting against your throat. “My gorgeous perfect girl who needed someone to make her fucking listen, huh?"

Nails scrape against your scalp; his fingers pull taut at the base of your skull, wrenching your eyes to his. "You think I haven’t memorized the way your eyes glaze over when I compliment you?”

You've never heard Nanami like this, and the fact that you've made the composed sorcerer come undone is driving you crazy.

He nuzzles into your throat, the tenderness of it stealing your breath. “You think I haven’t fucked my own hand every night for the past year thinking about you? The fact that you came to me to make you feel good—" Another purposeful rock of his hips, your juices and his pre-cum creating a damp patch on the front of his pants. "Infuriating, beautiful girl."

He cups your cunt with the palm of his hand. You gasp and rock into him.

"You want someone to tell you how good you are, don’t you sweetheart? Someone to take away all of the choices and just make you obey?"

"Nanami, please," you whimper, trying to twist your thighs closer to ease the pulsing ache between your legs. He pulls your underwear to the side and chuckles.

“I’ve barely done anything, sweet thing, and you’re already this wet for me?"

"Mmhmm," you whimper pitifully, hips moving of their own accord against his hand. He pulls away.

“Show me.”

You can barely think. Shakily, your fingers start to creep down your sides, but he stops you.

“Not like that. Get on the bed. Open yourself up for me, baby. Show me how wet you are just from being told you like to obey.”

He scoops you up and lays you on the bed. As you shimmy out of your underwear, he stands at the foot of the bed, palming his cock through his trousers.

You're so wet you can feel your arousal sticking in between your thighs. You slide one finger inside of you easily, then another.

"Nanami—" your voice breaks. "I need you." It's not right. You're so turned on it hurts, and your fingers aren't going to be enough. You want his hands, his tongue, his dick—

“Stop fucking begging and do as you're told. It’s not that hard to follow through, is it?”

It's the tone that's been dogging the two of you ever since you started working together, the undercurrent of sexual tension that you never knew how to name until tonight.

“Like what you see?” you ask.

He chuckles, the sound low in his throat. “Yeah, sweetheart, I like what I see. Now lick your fingers clean and tell me how you taste."

You pout and he only laughs again.

“Thought you liked orders." He kneels in front of you. "Not able to follow them?" His hips wedge into yours, cock grinding against the slippery mess between your legs. "My pretty little whore suddenly too stupid to keep up?”

Frissons of pleasure erupt on your skin. The degradation has you seeing stars.

One hand comes up to your throat, resting there. You press your neck under his hand, begging for more. He exhales shakily.

"Baby, you're undoing me here." He gives an experimental squeeze. "Good?"

You nod furiously. His fingers hook into the red lace at your hips; you rut up against him, an embarrassing whine falling from your lips. You're so desperate to cum it makes you want to cry.

“You come in here looking like a fucking slut and expect not to get fucked? With this tiny little skirt and this skimpy fucking top?” He finally pulls your skirt down, throwing it over his shoulder, your shirt and bra quickly following. “The amount of times I've though of you naked, angel, fuck—nothing compares to the real thing."

A second later, he throws your thighs over his shoulders and starts lapping at your pussy like a man starved.

"Always knew you'd taste fucking incredible." His hands grasp the meat of your ass, rocking you up against his mouth. "Used to think about you on the other side of that hotel room—had to convince myself so many times not to break down the door and teach you a lesson for scaring me out in the field."

His tongue toys with your clit as he presses two fingers, then three, the squelch of your pussy echoing in the room. You should be embarrassed at the sound, but you can't think about anything except how good he's making you feel.

"You worry about me?" you manage to breathe out, trying to tease him but sounding too fucked out for it to land.

He looks up at you from between your legs, his chin shining with your slick, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"Yes honey, I worry about you. Now be a good girl and let me make you come, okay?"

He approaches pussy-eating the way he does everything else in life. Methodical intent sends a jolt of pleasure through your belly with every lap of his tongue, every press of his fingers. He holds you open and devours you, sucking on your clit and pressing against the spongy spot inside of you just right.

You scream as you cum, pussy gushing all over his face, Nanami's nose pressed into your clenching hole like he can huff your scent into his lungs.

"Next time we do this," he says, kissing your shaking thighs as they quiver around his head. "I'm picking out the outfit."

[heartmix]

Post Break Up Hair - Joe Burrow

Pairing: Joe Burrow x ex!reader

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warning: ex's, stupid reason for breaking up, a bit of angst with happy ending, making fun of joe's blonde buzzcut

A/N: wrote this after last nights game against the giants. I saw that his hair was getting back to normal. I could not take him seriously when he debuted his new look, i think i got the ick when i first saw it.

Masterlist / NFL Masterlist

"Slim Shady Burrow!"

"Joe Burrow rocking a new look ahead of the next season."

"Blonde and a Buzzcut for the Bengals QB."

You were not expecting Joe to go into full breakdown mode once you broke up during training camp. The break up was mutual enough for harsh things not to be said, but it was nonetheless heartbreaking. The break up was brought up by you, after the last two seasons and losing in the super bowl, Joe's mental hasn't been the best so the most logical thing to do was take a break. Of course Joe was against it, but you somehow convinced him to try it. After hours of arguing he gave in with tears streaming down his face. Years of trying to be there for him, it didn't seem like it was working so what else were you supposed to do. When he first joined the NFL you promised to help him make his career better and this was your final effort. 

Seeing the headlines of your ex's new hair cut, you couldn't help but let out a chuckle. He was definitely a girl in his past life. No other man you know would go to that extreme after a break up. Although part of you couldn't help but feel bad. It was evident he was taking the break up hard. Sure he might've looked good for training camp and got more attention because of the hair cut, but once season started it was like nothing improve, it looked like it go worst. 

By week six, their record was 1-4. One of the worst starts to the season they had in awhile. Their only win came from the panthers, a team that was worst than them so it only made sense that they would win against the team. By that point you couldn't help but be hit with regret and sorrow. You couldn't help but think that you breaking up with Joe was making his season worst. I mean how could you not think that especially seeing them losing the first game of the season to the patriots, a team who was still trying to function without Belichick.

At this point, you could not take it. Seeing them in that state was depressing. You knew that reaching out to Joe would life his spirits. You were determined to change his mood before their game against the giants. With that being said you felt like calling or texting him out of the blue asking to get back together would be weird. If the roles were revered, no way would you take him back. 

The next idea was to surprise him at the game and hope he sees you during warm ups. You still had season passes in the family section thanks to joe putting your name down. Every week for a home game you got the email about the unused tickets. This week you would take advantage of it. 

Making your way into the stadium, you planned it early enough so there wouldn't be an abundant amount of people, so Joe can spot you more easily. As you made your way to the family section you recognized a few of the wags who looked at you with shock written all over their faces. It's made its way around the locker room that you and Joe broke up so their expression wasn't out of the blue. 

After greeting them and answering questions it was time for the team to start making their way out. Immediately you locked onto Joe. His buzzcut was growing out and his blonde was turning more platinum. He looked good, better than he did during training. For awhile he was locked in doing a couple of stretches and a few passing routes. After awhile his eyes scanned the bleachers, appreciating all the fans that would be there to see them. Suddenly his eyes passed onto your section and you were the first person he laid his eyes on. He couldn't believe it was you. His eyes held shock with his mouth agape. Ja'marr came up to his friend to see what made him look like he saw a ghost, suddenly his eyes landed on you and a smirk appeared on his face. As if Joe was in a trace Ja'marr broke him out of it by nudging him in your section. 

Seeing him run up to your section you made your way down to the railing to get as close as you can. For a second both of you just stared at each other being to nervous to say anything. It was Joe who broke the silence first.

"You're here."

"I'm sorry. I've been thinking about what to say for weeks but now i don't have words." You got out, your nerves taking over the whole speech you had in your head. 

"Weeks?"

"I realized I made a mistake to break things up. I thought it would be better for you, but it was worst, i'm sorry."

"I missed you." He said caving in right away. Any normal person would make you work for it, but Joe just missed you. He knew deep down that you didn't really want to break up, you were just thinking about his career. He shouldn't have let you go so easily, it was him who hasn't been performing well not you.

"I missed you since the day I walked out that door."

"Is the 'taking a break' part of our life over?" He asked with hope in his eyes. He was begging at this point. He didn't care who was around or what cameras were on him, he wanted you back.

"If you're willing to take me back." You smiled making one grow on his face. Suddenly he jumped on on the railing coming face to face with you. He wasted no time grabbing the back of your head and pulling you into a kiss. Both of you melted into the kiss and neither one of you wanted to pull back, but the need for air forced you both to. 

"You're telling me i could've had that weeks ago?" His infamous smirk returned to his face. There was the Joe you knew.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to be photographed with your post break up hair, I was waiting till you grew it a bit." You teased running a hand through his growing hair making him melt into your touch. 

"Are you serious." his smirk dropped making you let out a hearty laugh.

"I'm dead serious. You look like Cody Rhodes and I couldn't get the image out of my head."

"That teaches you a lesson. Never break up with me again."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Now go win this game so we can go home and I can dye your hair back to brown." You lightly shoved him seeing as he was losing grip on the railing.  

"One last kiss for good luck." He pleaded making you smile and give in. 

[artstennisracket]

Gamer!Patrick

who… you started dating in college. you guys met in your second year finance class after working on a project together. you thought he was cute but a little egotistical, always answering teacher questions without raising his hand. always contributing to class discussions aka saying his opinion louder than everyone else

who… always wears sweatpants or board shorts to class. no in between. always paired with his nike killshot’s, a watch his father bought him, and soft sprays of his expensive tom ford cologne. he clearly doesn’t care what people think of him. he’s also stupidly charismatic. all the business professors love him.

who… always insists on hanging out at your dorm instead of his off campus apartment. you never knew why until one day he finally gave in. his place was nice. expensive. he said his parents paid for the rent. it was a two bedroom apartment that he shared with his best friend Art but he was rarely home. but Patrick’s room was a disaster. dirty clothes everywhere, half eaten cups of ramen, half drunk water bottles, and suspicious socks strewn all over that made your stomach turn at the thought of what they were probably used for.

who… essentially ignores you everytime he’s on the game. his pc would be the only source of light in his room most nights. even if you spent the night, hoping he’d join you to sleep, most times he wouldn’t until an ungodly hour. staying up until 4/5am screaming at his teammates through his headphones, you’re surprised you can even sleep.

who… jerks off to porn videos of his favorite video game characters. he would never tell you, but one day when you’re over at his place, making cereal in the kitchen (because there’s no real food there), Art outs him. he busts out laughing saying “oh you didn’t know? yeah you should ask him about that.” you’re not even sure how Art knows this information.

who… denies the accusation stating that “why the fuck would I do that? that’s fucking gross.” only for you to catch him jerking off at 4am to overwatch porn. t-shirt pulled up, hand shoved down his boxers, abs flexing, eyes locked onto his phone screen. he doesn’t even notice that you woke up until you inch closer to him and spot the visuals on his phone. he drops his t-shirt from where it was between his teeth, “it’s not—whatever. fuck you,” he groans, hand picking up its pace. so you pull his hair (for being a brat), kiss his neck, and whisper dirty things into his ear while keeps watching his phone, making him finish in record time.

who… loves when you sit under his desk to blow him while he’s playing. trying really hard to concentrate and play well but it’s hard. the obscene squelching noises everytime he hits the back of your throat, the drool falling from the sides of your mouth, your other hand toying with his balls at the same time. he has to mute his mic when his friends keep asking him why he’s breathing so hard. he calls you a slut for trying to get his attention this way, “such a fucking slut. only way you know how to get my attention huh? want all my friends to hear me? so they know how much of a whore you are for my cock?”

who… hates loves playing video games with you. he has to teach you a lot, and you keep forgetting which buttons do what. it’s cute at first when you guys are playing co-op games like It Takes Two, but eventually after you try to make an ‘easy’ jump 5 times (dying everytime) he grabs the controller from you and does it for you, “Jesus fuck, it’s not that hard.” playing fortnite is a hit or miss because sometimes it’s fun but eventually it becomes stressful since Patrick is carrying you, making all the kills but also trying to watch your back while you’re doing the Taste dance emote in your Sabrina Carpenter skin.

who… can’t function when he sees your halloween costume. you dressed up as Kitana from mortal kombat (with the help of Art since you wanted to surprise Patrick). back to back frat parties on frat row. you keep getting wolf whistled at as you guys walk from house to house. Patrick keeps at least one point of contact the entire night, he can’t keep his hands to himself. a hand on your waist, around your shoulder, on your thigh, on your ass. and his favorite obviously being when you dance on him. he makes sure neither of you drink too much that night so he can fuck you stupid when you guys get back to his apartment. he already texted Art earlier to fuck off unless he wanted to hear you getting wrecked. it’s sloppy and rough and of course you keep your costume on. he pulls out his phone to record while you guys are in doggy.

who… actually is really sweet. he builds you guys a house in minecraft (with cherry blossom wood as you requested). will always put himself in harm’s way when you guys go mining. so he takes the lead and if there’s a creeper or a zombie he takes care of it. goes on crazy stupid long adventures with you just so you can find an ocelot, “this is fucking stupid, jungles are rare biomes it’s gonna take us forever to find one.”

who… thinks you may actually be the first girl he’s ever fallen in love with. the first girl to see all of him and still accept him for who he is. the first girl who never tried to change him. the first girl to enjoy just sitting in his presence, even if he’s on the game. but he’d never tell you any of that. not unless you said it first anyway.

taglist: @tacobacoyeet @newrochellechallenger2019 @antxnxlla @hanneh69 @urmomsucksfrogs @ctrl-mari @cha11engers @jesuistrestriste

want to be tagged when I post? click here!

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Bruh emotional support ghost kid? Well thats what they are calling him

Suicide cases in gothem are about to fucking plummet boiz cause this one weird blue eyes, black haired boy is now heading to your location.

How does he know where to be? Having a bad day and are all alone? No the fuck your not cause don’t turn around now but theres some shiny blue eyes coming at you from that dark ally. Oh shit hes here to drop some information about you and your lost loved ones that he should know. Oh god the closure. How could you have been afraid on this sweet, creepy, boy who just helped you find your way.

Meanwhile Danny is chillin in Gothem cause the GIW hate it there (none of they equipment actually functions in Gothem so it’s either super haunted or actually not haunted at all). Then all of a sudden he gets approached by a random ghost begging for his help because their sweet baby girl is about to do something horrible. Oops now all the ghosts are following their most loved ones around just to make sure they are there to rush to Danny for help when all else fails. Now hes getting to fulfil his protection obsession double time because one hes helping protect people from themselves and two hes protecting everyone in Gothem by stopping people from becoming villains for revenge. Plus he gets to see first hand how hes making a difference because all those people he saved are sending him some good vibes from all across Gothem.

Thank god he followed Jazz around so much to slightly absorb some of her phycology knowledge over the years. Plus it was actually pretty interesting so she gave him her old text books. Shes also helping him deal with the rare events where he can’t save someone. Just a moment too late or he stops them but they later succeeded in the hospital. Neither are his fault. Now only if he could convince his core of that.

Anyway why Gothem you ask? Amity Park would have been just as good tbh but imagine Batmans face when he finally gets to be face to face with the emotional support ghost boy. Why is he here? Bruce is fine. Batman is fine. Hes not gonna do anything crazy. It’s just a hard time of year. Around their death always gives him grief. But hes an adult and can manage it.

“You know they are so proud of you.” The boy states. As if it’s clear as day, even though it’s Gothem and never a clear day. Batman blinks at him, stunned for a moment. “What?” This boy can’t possibly know that. No one will ever know that, Bruce can only hope. “They see their home, full of such life. That big house that felt so empty, so cold, to them as well for years. Then you filled it with Family and Love like they had always wanted for you. They are so proud of what you have turned it into. Somewhere full of life and warmth.” A small smile graces his face as finally “you have made your parents so proud” and its all he can do to contain himself. Emotions are running high and sue him because he really did need to hear that ok. The boy suddenly looks to Bruces right with a confused face “aren’t all basements like that though?” Before Bruce can even get a word in hes gone. Just vanished before his eyes.

[qqueenofhades]

"Radiant" is a perfect word to describe her. Gosh she's just fantastic.

I just.... am still FULLY in shock. At the start of July we were deep in the sordid depths of BidenDebateGate and the media feeding frenzy was fully underway and things looked bad. In the middle of July we had the Trump assassination attempt and the RNC and backstabbing Democrat stories every two minutes and things looked very, VERY bad. My mental health that week was a mess. I was terrified and could barely function and was seriously contemplating having to plan for the worst-case scenario.

And then. July 21. Biden drops out. 24 hours of terror, anger, and confusion, and then? AND THEN???

At the start of August (after the 6543 weeks of July) we were riding insanely high with the Kamalamentum, on August 6 she picked Walz and immediately launched a gangbusters battleground-state tour, here we are after a basically flawless convention that ran as if she was intended to be the nominee all along, and I just... wow. Thank absolute fuck that Biden decided not to listen to all the people who wanted the nightmare of an "open convention mini primary" and immediately endorsed Kamala. Thank fuck that everyone came in line right away. Thank fuck she picked Walz and the whole rollout has been beyond incredible. AND NOW???

After the soul-crushing trauma of 2016 and what looked like another generation of old white male Democratic presidential candidates before they would ever dare to try again, we have a brilliant and experienced woman of color as our presidential nominee. We could experience the absolute god tier karma of said woman of color both making incredible history and ending Donald Trump's entire career all at once. We just witnessed the four-day convention that was riveting and unmissable television. We are raising absolutely stupid insane amounts of money and volunteers and effort and... I just don't understand how this can happen in the Bad Timeline we have been living in, except to hope that if it is, we have somehow finally left it, or can leave it. God. Wouldn't that be nice.

People keep saying that we can't get complacent and we still have to vote, because we are all as noted still traumatized from 2016, but... quite honestly, I don't think that's the issue this time. People are raring at the fucking BIT to vote, in a way that I, who have spent 10+ largely bitter and thankless years on here telling people to vote, can't entirely believe. People want to do this. The younger among you have asked if this is what Obama felt like in 2008, and: Yes, but this is even more unbelievable. At least we could see him coming and had some context for it and watched him gain steam through the primaries, etc. But there was still considerable rancor and uncertainty around whether THIS GUY was going to be the nominee, and plenty of Democrats were pretty skeptical. They warmed up a bit as it went on, but things were still fairly neck and neck with McCain until the great economic crash. After that, Obama began to pull away and finally won in a crushing landslide.

By contrast, 2024 with Kamala is now the most united and excited I have seen the Democrats, EVER, and I have been voting for Democrats and paying attention to politics for almost 20 years. It's literally indescribable. Wow. That is all I can say. Wow, and of course, LET US FUCKING DO THIS. LET'S FUCKING GO. MADAM PRESIDENT. IT'S TIME.

[missbutterworthless]

[i’m not a violent dog. i don’t know why i bite.]

The lead singer of BOTB’s Season 4 projected underdogs, Arlo Beck of Penny Arcade, declined further comment in regards to the threatening of a member of the media when questioned about former band mate and fellow competitor, Seven Lawless of Soft Violence.

Further Info Under the Cut!

TW for mentions of addiction 🫶

Introducing Arlo Beck, lead singer of Penny Arcade, a pop punk band of humble origins known most for their musically delivered political commentary and their revenge anthems (it is of particular note that such anthems were not common in the Lawless Era, with the band leaning far more heavily into charged love songs. Which could mean nothing.)

Fun Facts!

Beck is an Aquarius!

According to an insider source, beyond singing, Beck is quite capable with the ocarina.

Beck is known to juggle at any and every opportunity, regardless of who may or may not be watching. (He is apparently rather talented as well.)

Beck is known for accessorizing with heart motifs, noted by a previous local publication to be a nod to fellow bandmate Rowan Hart.

Beck often carries a bottle of quick dry black polish for ‘manicure emergencies’. He is known to have addressed such emergencies while on stage after chipping a nail during a performance.

Beck is often cited as the source for Penny Arcade’s ‘gimmick’ of collecting loose change in collection bins during a dedicated song at every performance. The change is then matched and donated to queer and at risk youth. Beck remains firm that every member of Penny Arcade, past and present, is equally responsible.

Picture Easter Eggs and more Fun Facts!

Arlo is wearing a WWOD? bracelet in the pic! The band got together to make bracelets with Orion’s most recent catchphrase while waiting for filming to start. Arlo made his particularly fruity. He also made a keychain version for Orion.

The time on Arlo’s phone is a nod to MCx7. Seven is, well, 7. And Arlo is 1 & 2 because his initials are the first and second letters of the alphabet. Hence, 7:12.

Arlo’s initial tattoo utilizes the S in SD as an infinity symbol. He acknowledges it is cringy. And poetically tragic.

Not shown is his tongue piercing, which Orion chewed him out for getting because his tongue was swollen and his speech slurred for nearly two weeks!

As stated above, he likes to wear motifs of his band members! Because he is a doofus! Most common because it’s his daily accessories is a heart motif for Rowan, but he also has jellyfish pendants and vampire bite chokers for Iris and different color bee pins for Devyn depending on their hair color! Jazzy is represented in the case he carries his juggling equipment in, which he takes literally everywhere after she bought him one for his birthday years ago. He is currently racking his brain for what to do for August!

43 of the 57 missed calls on his phone were from Orion. He knows because Orion’s ringtone is I Don’t Dance from High School Musical 2.

He is heavily addicted to nicotine (to Orion’s chagrin) and became a functioning (for now) alcoholic after The Fight™️. Prior, he imbibed during social functions but never alone and never when he had plans. Up until the audition, he never partook in other substances but caved into peer pressure. Despite his snark and notorius RBF, he is a chronic people pleaser.

The eyebrow slit is a scar from slicing his eyebrow open in Lucy’s diner after crashing head first into the dish station and shattering a plate. With his face. The scar is almost entirely faded but he can no longer grow hair there. He’s actually really insecure about it and has considered getting the spot microbladed.

That’s all for now folks! I mostly wanted to share my art :) I adore @infamous-if and have been playing with Arlo as my MC since Day 1! He finally fully clicked in my head and after days of attempting to find a face claim or craft him in the sims I decided to crack open Ye Olde iPad and do it myself!

Please feel free to share any fun facts about your own Infamous OCs! Regretfully my friends stay firmly opposed to interactive fiction so I am starved for fellow Infamous fans

[lucilleslore]

lovesick snow really really really scratches a part of my brain that i cannot have the words that explain it and have to go the library of babel to find it. he'd be more easy to manipulate in that state, especially how vulnerable he is to you and how willing he'd do anything for you. like you said in one of your first posts, i'm in love with the idea of it of how powerful the reader is if you want to add more backstory to them.

ok so i went with your idea and gave manipulative!reader and snow the backstory they deserve for the little au we have going here!! i hope you love it <3

➸ so as a kid i see manipulative!reader as a bit of a daydreamer and what do lots of little girls dream about?? their wedding. for you though it wasn’t necessarily about the day, not even the fancy dress or the colour scheme but the person. let’s just say you’re already from quite an influential family but it’s not enough - you want more.

➸ you wanted a husband that’s powerful, motivated. he had to be important and charismatic - someone who could really get you what you wanted from life. you weren’t completely unbothered by the idea of romance though and hoped that’d you’d manage to get them utterly devoted to you, willing to do anything to protect you and make you happy. it’s not a hard thing to ask for, right?

➸ you’d always been aware of coriolanus snow but there always seemed to be better candidates for your attention. then he comes back to the capitol and you can sense the change in him - the unhinged, power hungry aura that seemed to surround him and as he quickly started making a new name for himself, you thought he could be the one.

➸ coryo would never be an easy person to get close to however. so you had to subtly start placing yourself in his life. it was a slow process but you were diligent. ‘bumping’ into him just outside his apartment, having the same social calendar as him, even showing an interest in the games so someone would set up an appointment between the two of you to discuss.

➸ then there was one moment. one that not even you - seemingly the mastermind of your own life - had planned out. it was raining that day, pouring and you were alone rushing back to your apartment. you weren’t paying attention to where you were going and when you stepped out onto the road you weren’t prepared for the onslaught of screeching tires or horns. or for the strong grip that wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back.

➸ coryo was there just as drenched as you were but with a kind of frenzied, panicked look in his eyes. ‘you should watch where you’re going,’ he’d urged. it was the way he said it, the way his hand squeezed at your wrist that had you thinking maybe he’d been noticing your efforts after all. he’d tugged you closer to him as if you’d be safer there and it was probably the most genuine moment you’d had in years, as you blinked up at the blonde man who’d just saved your life.

➸ honestly after that you decide to back off, feeling a little guilty about your scheming but seemingly the universe wanted the two of you on the same path. or maybe coriolanus did. suddenly he was there at family functions, taking meetings with your father, charming your mother at all costs. he’d come to dinners hosted at your families estate and his eyes would never leave you from across the table even when he was in a conversation.

➸ so when your family told you about the marriage proposal you weren’t that surprised, just giddy. everything was finally falling into place. you knew you’d have to be careful. to you snow was charming, doting in a sense but you’d heard the rumours. he could be dangerous and you’d have to make sure you were never in his firing line.

➸ in the beginning of your marriage you try and play coy, let coryo take the lead in things. you like to let him know how you rely on him, always holding onto his arm in public and letting him speak first. basically just playing up to his male ego but something about seeing you feeling so safe with him and letting your guard down has him letting some walls down too. which is exactly what you want.

➸ he’d start to confide in you after a while because you’re just such a good little wife! bringing him drinks in the evening in your pretty dresses, loosening his shirts and playing with his hair. it isn’t his fault he ends up telling you things about his past, things he plans to do in the future - a lot of things that he probably shouldn’t tell you especially since you’ll remember each and every one.

➸ kinda dark but i love the idea of you being able to read people really well and always hyper aware of who coryo surrounds himself with, always sussing out their intentions before he does. you give it a little while but if he’s still not catching onto them you’ll simply make something up. maybe they’re giving you dirty looks or maybe their gazes are just lingering a little too long for your liking, in places they certainly shouldn’t be looking. maybe they’ve flirted with you, maybe they’re making nasty digs but you have coryo eating out the palm of your hand by this point and he’s possessive, protective in a mad, feral way. you’re flat out lying but he eats it up and whoever you want gone doesn’t last much longer after that.

➸ maybe that’s how you get your power. by simply having his ear. people know that they can get what they want through you and by the time coryo is president you have people visiting you nearly everyday. hoping you’ll let them into your inner circle, offering you things in exchange for a word whispered in his ear.

➸ and maybe coryo comes to rely on you this way. you’re a capitol darling, their perfect first lady but behind closed doors you’re separating the good from the bad. the people who can help your husband and the people who’re out to damage what he’s built. people begin to see you as a powerhouse in your own right, someone with a good side they need to be on. or else.

[balrogballs]

queen of ai art <3

I genuinely have no idea what the fuck is in the tap water right now considering these all came in the last ten days from what I suppose are different people considering I blocked the first two… either that or it is one very persistent person or the collective actions of what I assume is probably the world’s most depressing groupchat. Incest anon, come back, I miss you on hindsight.

I don't normally answer mean-spirited questions but these pissed me off recently because of the nature of the accusations. So, let’s get into a long, illustrated lesson including a WIP gallery as to why you shouldn’t rely on “gotcha” AI logic and/or be a little twat, with tips on manual digital scaling, presented in classic Balls style.

Now, the vast majority of my art is traditional, many are quick ‘challenge’ sketches—they are drawn or painted on paper. With many of them, there are progress shots. Sometimes multiple, including fucking gemwork. Sometimes I do silly sketches. I have also been quite open that I’m really focusing on exploring varying styles of portraiture at the moment after an artistic background in watercolour landscapes. A number of you follow my traditional art blog where said landscapes were posted, and you know they’re banging.

Now, I’ve posted *checks notes* like five digital pieces last year from the time I owned a tablet (after which all my work has been trad due to being indefinitely parted from said tablet), and none of them are what you’d call professional quality, considering most of my work is traditional/realist and I am still not very good at stylised or digital drawing. I’ll choose my “best”/most detailed one for the purposes of this impromptu demonstration using the files I do have on me at the moment.

Due to my background in traditional art 👆🏻I always and without fail do my initial sketching by hand, because I find it difficult to get perspective and proportions correct digitally, because I learnt various pencil angling tricks etc… so anything I have drawn digitally that includes people/buildings, I’d do a sketch on paper and scan it, and do the lineart from there.

Here is the sketch, the sketch cleaned up into lineart, shaded values, and a portion of the colour-blocking stage, where I checked to make sure the major colours don’t clash at the borders, thanks to Thingol’s bright orange outfit from hell.

I assume what has been done here is that you or whatever program you’re using has picked up on the below little noisy bits, threads and spirals and decided they’re AI. Let me introduce you to the magic of textural overlays, aka texture stamps/brushes, which I get so impatient with that it becomes quite obvious they’re on there… which works in my favour right now lmao.

Here is me sliding the opacity on and off sections, so you can see what exactly is going on (pillar with marbled effect, thingol skin texture, elrond jacket texture, elrond's remarkable forehead, and the marbled archway):

These aren’t overlaid by my mystery robot sex toy, they are done by hand and there’s around 20-30 different ones in any given piece, some of them (eg skin texture or leaves) are repeated 10-15 times. Using texture brushes or stamps is not a cardinal sin, they are literally sold on this website by the artists who make them. Here is a clip of me just selecting them all in one go, if you’d like that proven for your face eyes as well.

I have no excuses for overblending my colours or leaving sections choppy, I’m just lazy to do painterly detail on stylised digital pieces, and usually just stop after a couple rounds of blending. But if laziness was a crime then most nation-states in this world would not have a functioning government.

Now, the final two stages—because the base for these images are usually scans or photos of my sketches and thus not exactly at the best of resolutions, I upscale in Lightroom. Amusingly, image upscaling is actually normally done by AI either built into Photoshop or plugins—this isn’t exactly generative AI, it’s more an algorithm that breaks down your existing photo and “reconstructs” it at a higher resolution. Hence, many upscaled images are flagged as AI regardless of the manner of upscaling.

I am too stingy to purchase Photoshop, the above plugins can/do use your art to train generative AI even if it doesn’t use it for your image, and I have Lightroom Classic already—upscaling is relatively easy to do here and does not train AI. Here’s a walkthrough:

Open Image > Denoise > Play with Slider > Save as TIFF > Open TIFF > Develop Module > Enhance > Save DNG. Then, work on DNG image re: adding noise/brightness/contrast whatever.

Just a note that the ‘Super Resolution’ feature does actually use (algorithmic, not generative) AI so don’t click on that, just do the normal Enhance. This will increase your image size and resolution without sacrificing detail. However, the file itself would be fucking enormous by this point so you can either compress it yourself or use Canva or whatever.

If you don’t mean those and instead mean these fucking things, jesus fucking christ they’re free graphic design templates with free Illustrator vectors, get a fucking grip, ten days in a charity comms job and you can make these in your sleep while moving the mouse with your pussy.

Here is a collage of some of my other digital works at various stages as well, including pencil/pen sketches, to help you sleep at night:

Please remember that I stopped posting digital art except one charcoal+digital work after I was parted from my tablet in December. If I was really iBalls, I would have continued churning them out surely 😇

Writing

I am not going to even take this seriously because there is clearly no way to explain the concept of writing something in advance to people who clearly type out and immediately send every half-dusted thought the moment it farts itself into their brain.

However, if you are actually sitting in your home in the year 2025, when there is almost definitely litter in your neighbourhood that needs picking and dogs on the Rover app that go unwalked, feeding my fucking writing into whatever fucking AI detector you have that is, in turn, training whatever fucking AI generator it is linked to, simply because of whatever robot you have created in your brain that somehow knows very niche facts about the lifestyle, dialect, speech patterns, culture and politics of a frankly irrelevant town in 1970s Kerala, I genuinely do not wish you a single moment of joy in your life

I have already or will soon be privating some of my artwork considering there are people cheerfully sat there feeding my work to Musk’s field of cows in order to get yourself a good old gotcha against some random Elrondfucker on the Internet — I’m obviously not going to do that to my writing at the moment but please stop letting your actions be driven by your asshole instead of your brain.

As for this one, I initially thought of not being so cocky in my response but considering I either get a version of this like once a month or some fucker goes to another person’s blog to ask them if I’m not tired of people kissing my ass, let me tell you something:

I am not whatever hockey-playing girlboss it was that was a bitch to you in high school and you are now afraid is intruding into your fandom space. She must have sucked I am certain. I am very sorry you had to deal with her. But I am not her. She is not me. I can assure you of this. If you must know, I was a netball girl. In fact, I was netball team captain. If it actually was me, I sincerely apologise for accidentally on purpose fouling you in 2014 because I wanted to win the intra-school friendly and I promise I won’t ever do it again.

And just in general, let me please remind you that I did not curate this audience through purposeful posting of art and literature and tasteful selfies, I did it via the 'Lindircident' post, aka accidentally holding my asshole wide open for the light to shine through two weeks after I made this account and remaining in the same doubled-up position for the six months since.

Tschüss! 🖕

[thecheshireprincess]

Princess of Diamonds

Part I of V

In which you find yourself in Borderland, somehow running into the one person you'd thought was lost to you forever.

A Dad!Kuzuryu x Daughter!Reader five part mini-series

Content Warning: Mentions of death and suicide, curse words, not too much craziness going on in this part ✨️

A/N: I haven't decided if Reader will have one specific love interest, have two 👀 specific love interests, or if she will just remain a flirty queen 👑 So just know that this isn't necessarily a Niragi x Reader pairing, he just gets the first flirt for now 🤣🤭 I hope you guys love this! ❤️

Princess of Diamonds Masterlist

Even your eyelashes feel heavy and achy as you blink rapidly, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to regain consciousness. The space in front of you was completely dark - you had opened your eyes, hadn't you? - and your head throbbed aggressively.

You bite back a moan of agony, the rest of your body finally responding to your awakened state, nerve endings lighting up all over like fireworks. Stiff, sore, fuck. What happened? You can tell you're sitting upright in an uncomfortable chair with something covering your head. A bag?

Arisu. Usagi. Last you could recall, the three of you had been searching all over Tokyo for a place called The Beach; you must have been caught. Secretive fuckers. You just hoped your friends were still with you and unharmed.

You aren't left to your thoughts for long as the shade is yanked abruptly from your head, allowing bright white light to infiltrate your vision. You squeeze your watering eyes shut tightly in response, the sudden intrusion of the sun's rays doing no favors to your pounding headache. Your hand instictively comes up to massage a tender bump on your head, likely where your kidnappers had hit you to knock you out. You should sue for damages.

"Good morning!" a woman's cheerful voice chirps from a couple of feet in front of you. It probably would be a good morning, if you hadn't been assaulted for simply looking for answers in a world that seemed to have none.

And then a voice fills your ears, the low tone immediately soothing your frayed nerves like a balm. A voice that you'd been certain you'd never have the privilege of hearing again, "I'm sorry that we were so rough. We heard that there were some people sneaking around the place." You finally lift your head up as he finishes his apology, eyes meeting his framed behind distinctive wire glasses. You notice his breath catches in his throat, eyes widening, as your reality seems to shift beneath you. How could this possibly be?

Your father was presumed to be dead, missing for more than six months in the old world. His disappearance the catalyst for the fiery collapse of the life you'd known for 24 years. But now? Here he was standing in front of you dressed in a short-sleeved collared shirt and board shorts. At a place dubbed The Beach. A place whose citizens had assaulted you and your friends, leaving you unconscious and bewildered. The sight of him filled you with rage, only adding to the pressure currently threatening to crack your skull in half. Your pulse pounded obscenely in your ears, making it nearly impossible to hear anything over the thunderous beat. You lowered your gaze to the dirty tan carpet at your feet, you'd be sick if you had to keep looking at the man.

You're instantly grateful that Arisu and Usagi are, in fact, on either side of you and can function well enough to converse with the wild haired man that has come parading ceremoniously into the room. You make a half-hearted attempt to listen to the man, spewing all sorts of propaganda about what the cards mean, what collecting them will do, and how the citizens of The Beach have pledged themselves to him. To live for him, to die for him. What an absolute lunatic; you kind of like him.

It's then that the two muscular men that had accompanied Hatter - that's what he called himself - into the conference room push the thin pocket wall dividing the room out of the way. Your eyes are met with a colorful wall coated thickly in spray painted playing cards. This must be their way of keeping track of which cards they still needed, and from the looks of things, they weren't too far off from the goal. Impressive.

Hatter paces back and forth in front of your group, animatedly describing that most things are allowed and encouraged in his self proclaimed utopia - drinking, drugs, sex, you name it. There are, however, a few limitations. "Rule one, swimwear is mandatory," he says, grandly gesturing towards a pretty woman with a bob cut. When the three of you presumably look at him questioningly, he gladly elaborates, "Well you can't very well hide weapons in swimwear, right?! It's genius!"

Ah, so no weapons then. That's disappointing. A quick glance to your right confirms your suspicions - they'd already confiscated your pistol and homemade bombs. They were sitting innocently among your groups' other possessions on a desk by the window, likely never to be seen by you again. Hatter re-enters your line of vision as he strides toward the desk, gracefully scooping up the stack of playing cards adorning it. Your playing cards, to be more specific.

"Rule two, all cards belong to The Beach. We work together to collect all the cards, sending one person back at a time as we form complete decks." You can see through your periphery that your friends are a little distressed by this particular rule, and the fact that Hatter now has your cards pressed in his hands. You on the other hand, couldn't care less. You aren't trying to get out of here anyway.

Arisu and Usagi launch into another back and forth with Hatter, and you won't lie, you're starting to get bored. Everything feels inconsequential to you at this point, and you'd prefer to just get on with it. And away from your father. You take this moment to quickly analyze the people stationed around the room. You don't, however, dare look to your left; actively avoiding your father's constant gaze burning a hole through you. So all of these people have truly bought into this man's insanity? Your incredibly intelligent father included. You briefly wonder if he's lost his mind. But no, Hatter must really be that charismatic, that convincing. Or maybe people finding themselves in this new place are really just that desperate for something to find hope in? You can't relate.

You tune listlessly back into the conversation just as Arisu asks what would happen if the three of you refused Hatter's offer. You had a feeling that you already knew the answer to that, the long-haired man in front of you looking like he'd never accepted no as an answer in his life. He turns ominously around from where he'd been ogling the cards painted carefully on the wall to face the three of you once more.

"Rule three, this is the last rule," he articulates in a low tone, holding three fingers up to you. "Death to the traitors." His oddly distant eyes stare daggers at the three of you over the top of his aviator glasses, making it clear that this was not a joke. Finally, something exciting. So you would be forced to live here and serve this man's whims - him blackmailing you into staying with the cold threat of death. Your eyes sparkled, you could have a good time here. You smirk, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair as Hatter makes his grand exit. There is nothing more that needs to be said, the three of you would be locked in here until the end - whatever that might look like.

The mysterious woman with the bob cut and sunglasses covering her face strides confidently over to your group, offering to show you around and help you get settled in. You are quick to accept, knowing that you didn't have the patience or willpower right now to deal with the man still studying you from across the room. You doubted that you could avoid him forever at this resort, but you would damn well try.

He was, after all, just a ghost to you now.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

You sit comfortably on a wicker barstool in front of the bar, swinging your legs back and forth in a show of indifference. One finger traces the base of your martini glass with a feather light touch, your other hand cradling your chin as you reflect on the last couple of hours. Ann turned out to be super sweet, much less intimidating than she presented herself. You liked that about her.

She had helped you choose a few outfits to stock your new wardrobe with; most pieces were beachwear, of course, but you'd also chosen some sweatshirts, long pants, and shorts for game nights. She'd also shown you to your room, giving you a full rundown of the power dynamic at The Beach as you put away your new clothes and tried to settle in to your new life.

She was quick to tell you about Aguni and the Militants, warning you in no uncertain terms to stay out of their way. Away from them entirely, if possible. A challenge. Then there was, of course, Hatter and his Executive board. You weren't surprised in the slightest to hear your father is ranked number two and has been for some time. You'd scoffed as Ann presented you with that piece of information, catching her attention. "Do you know each other?" she'd implored. You'd laughed drily, feeling no need to lie to her, "He's my Dad. And he's supposed to be dead." You know the look on your face must have been dripping in disdain and probably confused the woman sitting on the edge of your bed. Ann had pursed her cherry red lips, giving a slight nod before smiling encouragingly, "Family can be . . . difficult. Try not to waste an opportunity for a second chance." You'd hummed in acknowledgement, shooting her a half-hearted smile. Did you want to give your father a second chance? You weren't sure.

You didn't stay locked up in your room for long after Ann had rushed off to perform other Executive duties, deciding that you should at least try to take advantage of the amenities. If the people of The Beach were partying, who were you to argue? Bottoms up. You didn't bother to search for Arisu and Usagi either - you knew they'd be safe at the resort and would take care of each other. Honestly, those two were perfect for each other, and you were more of a loner anyway.

At least, you were now. It was better that way - with the way you were these days. You weren't sure how to explain it. It turns out that losing both of your parents in such a short span of time can really take a toll on a person's livelihood. You'd been in a sort of depression since everything had happened, most days you felt like a walking zombie. You still went through the motions of keeping your basic needs met and showing up to work, but you could tell that your will to thrive was not very strong. Coming into this new world was an interesting development to say the least. A positive development?

A different world, with different rules. It was a sort of sick entertainment for you, watching people fear for their lives in the game arenas as you laid your life on the line without concern. It was no concern to you if you lived or died, because you had nothing to live for here, and nothing to return to in the original world.

Whether Hatter's theories were true or not, didn't matter to you. You couldn't care less that he wanted to make all of these people bust their asses to earn cards every night just for him to be the one to return to the original world, yourself included. He could have all of your cards, for the rest of time if he wanted. You had every intention of staying here for as long as you could keep yourself alive. It was at least better than being stuck in a world where everything had been stripped from you.

After a while of soaking up the sun's golden rays and enjoying the rowdy sounds of the players splashing in the pool behind you, a shadow is cast over your form as someone approaches you from behind. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you turn to look at them. To tell them to fuck off. A slender man with sharp black eyes and a rifle slung against his shoulder slips an arm on the back of your chair and lowers himself presumptuously in the one next to you. Niragi. You had wondered when you would get the pleasure.

You raise an eyebrow at him expectantly, taking a delicate sip from your glass and allowing the pink liquid to burn its way down your throat deliciously.

The man studies you, dark eyes roaming all over your body, "What's a pretty thing like you doing over here alone?" You chuckle in disbelief, not really expecting the weakest pickup line of all time to come out of his mouth.

"I choose to be alone, thank you. And is that the best a guy like you has got? You are really underestimating me," you say dangerously, flipping your hair over your shoulder and settling back into your seat. Allowing his arm to brush lightly across your shoulders. Niragi's reputation preceeded him, you already knew he was a walking red flag. A monster. And maybe that's why you felt a little intrigued by him. It couldn't hurt to get to know him a little, right?

At the very least, you knew allowing someone like him within close proximity to you would bother your father, which was something you were highly interested in accomplishing right now. A mischievous grin spreads across your face just at the thought of his reaction to Niragi's arm being wrapped around you.

Niragi smirks, excited to have met someone who could actually hold their own against him. "Really?" he drawls, arching a pierced eyebrow at you, "Are you sure that you aren't the one underestimating me?"

You hum, leaning forward with your chin resting in both of your hands now, bright eyes clashing against his dark ones. "I know exactly who you are, Niragi. And I'm not afraid of you, you won't be getting in the way of what I want."

Your eyes narrow at him, waiting patiently for him to try to rebut you. The man standing behind the bar, Tatta you'd learned earlier, sends you a distressed look as he slides another fruity pink drink over to you; you are allowing a snake dangerously close to sinking its fangs into your neck. You smile sweetly at the boy, reassuring. You have Niragi right where you want him.

"And what about what I want, baby?" he asks, piercings glittering in the sun. You are definitely attracted to this man, monster or not. His face has gotten dangerously close too, though you certainly aren't complaining, allowing his nose to nearly touch yours. After a moment of tense silence, you flash Niragi a dazzling grin before turning your head to tip your glass all the way back, finishing off your first drink. You stand abruptly from your seat now, grasping the stem of the martini glass that Tatta just handed you as you go.

Niragi's eyebrows knit in confusion at your sudden departure,and you send a confident wink in his direction. "Guess we'll have to wait and see what you deserve to get from me," you say ardently, tone even but still teasing. Flipping your hair again to fall luxuriously back down your back, you skip off toward the other side of the glistening blue pool and leave the man sitting dumbfoundedly at the bar. You, on the other hand, were hoping to get lost in your second martini and fall asleep in the sun for a few hours.

If Niragi wanted to play cat and mouse with you, you wanted to make sure that he knew you were the cat.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

After spending your entire afternoon and early evening basking in the hot sun and drinking, you were looking forward to drowning yourself in a hot shower. Okay, maybe not drowning yourself, but at least drowning the thoughts that hadn't been sufficiently killed off by the liquor. You turn the brass door handle to enter your room, flinging the door open blindly into the darkness. You nearly jump out of your skin, clasping your hands to your mouth to mask your scream when you find a silhouette already standing by the window waiting for you.

"What the fuck!" You curse at your father, nearly having had a heart attack. You should have been expecting this, of course he wouldn't just leave you to your own devices now that he knew you were here. "Do you have to stand forebodingly in the dark like that? You could have at least turned on the light!" you exclaim again, conflicting emotions seeping out of you like a thick smoke. You indignantly flip the switch to bathe the room in warm light, finally letting your eyes study your father for the first time.

He looks mostly the same as he always has, serious and tired from - what? In the old world you could kind of understand, the man worked tirelessly as a powerful attorney, usually putting his job above his family and often times even being forced to go against his own personal ideals. What's he tired from now? Sitting at The Beach and partying all day? A part of you wants to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone and let you sleep, but for some reason you don't. He turns to look fully at you now, showing very little emotion on his features, but a brief flicker of concern in his eyes. His arms are crossed characteristically across his chest, standing as though he was holding court. And somehow you're the defendent.

You shuffle further inside the room to be able to push the door shut behind you, stumbling a little bit over your strappy sandals as you do. Whoops, so maybe you'd had a little more fun at the pool than you realized.

Chestnut eyes examine you, his professional poker face giving away nothing about how he was feeling. "You're drunk," he states simply, only stoking the flames of your fury towards him.

You look incredulously up at him from where you've plopped yourself down on the plush couch against the opposing wall; a younger, very different version of yourself would probably have cried. Instead, you laugh. A coarse, mocking sort of sound. "You haven't seen me, your only daughter, in six months and the first thing that comes out of your mouth is a criticism? Just when you think you know a person," you spit venomously.

"Is that all you wanted, then? Worried that I'll tarnish your precious reputation here at this stupid cult resort?" You give him no chance to respond to you, and he doesn't interrupt. Would never interrupt. Because where you are fiery and stubborn, he meets you with calm composure; a perfect counterpoint. "It all makes sense, really. All you've ever cared about was your reputation, isn't it? You've never cared about me. About Mom. No wonder she left you in the dust," you snarl. You realize that you're openly spitting vitriol at your Dad, allowing the liquor flowing through your system to drive the conversation.

He hums calmly, not taking the bait. Not responding back out of anger or hurt. Because if there was one thing your father was actually good at, it was listening to understand, not listening to react. So even though you've just spewed hateful, horrible words at him, you know he isn't hearing that. He's hearing what you aren't saying. I was so scared when you went missing. I've missed you. Why are we here? Didn't you know that I still needed you? Don't you love me anymore? What is going to happen to us here?

The man takes a couple of carefully measured strides to shorten the distance between you, sitting on your bed across from where you're sprawled somewhat drunkenly. "I understand how you must be feeling . . ." he tries to reason, one hand raised and reaching toward you slightly, but you still have shit you need to say and cut him off immediately.

"No the fuck you don't understand!" you roar without second thought of players residing in neighboring rooms. "Mom's dead. It's all your fault. You think I'm just going to throw myself into your arms?" Think again. I'm not your sweet little girl that you left behind. I'm an orphan now." You feel the emotional tide start to turn within you at this point, rage bleeding slowly into despair as you think about all of the horrible catastophes that had led you to this place.

Your father takes his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose, a classic indication that "you've stressed him out". Good. You don't say anything more now, picking lightly at a loose thread that hung from the arm of the couch. Trying to hold back tears. Because you'll be damned if you cry in front of your father today, absolutely the fuck not.

The man says your name quietly when he's certain you're finished with your outburst, "Honey, I didn't ask to come here any more than you did." He sighs, exhausted, always exhausted just like in the old world. It's then that you notice how much older he looks, like he's carrying the weight of an entire world with him. "Tell me what happened with Mom." His voice cracks just a tiny bit at the mention of his ex-wife, a change that would go unrecognized to most people, but you can tell at least that bit of news has hurt him. You turn your head to escape his scrutinizing gaze, fixing your eyes on a spot on the wall.

Eight months ago, two months before the man now sitting in front of you disappeared, your parents announced they'd be getting divorced. You'd thought it was the worst thing that could happen to you at the time. Devastation. No one wants to see the eternal love they've always known and looked up to, be shattered right in front of their eyes. You had been left disillusioned about love at the very least. Was love a real thing? Even if it was, could it last forever?

Just a few days after you had helped your Dad move into a new townhouse about twenty minutes from your childhood home, he left to go on a work trip. You were staying at the new place to help him get settled, and of course to watch Kumo, your father's Akita. It was only supposed to be a three day trip, but as three days turned into five, and then into a week, you'd panicked. Search party after search party was sent out, exhausting every location that he could possibly be.

Though no body was ever uncovered, search efforts were lifted after three weeks. Your father was presumed dead. Some people speculated that he ran away, but you knew. It didn't matter that your Dad often put work ahead of you, you knew that if he was capable of coming back, he would have. But still? There was a lot of fury in you. Your brain desperately wanted - needed - something to blame for the pain.

"She blamed herself for your disappearance. She thought that maybe you'd run away because of everything that happened, and just wanted to start fresh without us." You blink some tears from your eyes, because this was the worst part. The part that you usually left out of the story, because you were not a good daughter. Because though you'd told your Dad it was all his fault that your Mom was gone, it was really your fault. At least that's how you see it.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing your nails deeply into the soft skin of your palms as the gravity of the situation weighs on you. You hazard a brief glance up at your father, finding his face softened, looking at you with as much warmth as someone like him can offer. When he realizes that you're struggling with the next part, he shifts toward you. Slowly, giving you the chance to back away from him if you want. Your father comes to kneel in front of you, carefully unwrapping your fingers from where they are leaving crescent shaped marks in your skin, taking your hands in his. Gently rubbing his thumbs along your knuckles, let me hold the pain for you.

"I-i blamed her too. I told her it was her fault that you left us . . . It was me that put that idea in her head. I-i made sure that she lost both of us and I didn't even get a chance to apologize or see her one last time before it happened," you lament. You hadn't meant it when you said it, you were just so upset. It would always be your greatest regret in life.

Your father closed his eyes, taking in the information you'd given him, processing it all with a deep, painful sigh. He shakes his head slightly, pulling you fully into his arms in a tight hug now. You stiffen initially, still a little bit hesitant, but eventually allow your head to rest on his shoulder. You feel a weight lifted from your chest, one that has been pressing down on you like a boulder for the last eight months.

"It's not your fault, sweetheart. There's so much that you don't know, so much that we didn't want you to have to carry the burden of," your father consoles you, and you lose track of time as you revel in the feeling of being held by the person you thought for sure you'd never see again.

"Dad?" You whisper after a while, as if there were people of The Beach watching or listening, and honestly there probably were. "I know you're a part of this weird organization or whatever and I won't do anything to mess that up. But know this, I don't plan on going back to our world. I want to stay here."

Your statement caught Kuzuryu off guard, and his spine went rigid at hearing it. He was lucky you still had your head rested on his shoulder and weren't looking at his face, because he was certain his usually vacant expression was anything but.

There was so much you didn't know, didn't understand about this place. So much he couldn't reveal to you. The man felt a lump in his throat forming, time was a precious commodity here and he was already running out of it. The Beach had just a few remaining cards to collect before the Ten of Hearts would be revealed, and then, it would be their turn. He had a few days, maybe a week if he was lucky, to spend with you. In that time, he needed to convince you to go home when you were given the choice.

Kuzuryu might not be willing to weigh the value of other peoples' lives against each other, but to him, your life was the most valuable in the world.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Princess of Diamonds Tag List: @dreamy-crow @maxinehufflepuffprincess

Princess of Diamonds Masterlist

As always, please never hesitate to let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) the tag list! 💕✨️ I absolutely love hearing from and interacting with this community, so come hang out in the comments or in my asks ❤️ ily endlessly

[irlactualhuman]

Lea Shepherd,

It has come to the attention of the HR department that you have been using your corporate email to both offer and request sexual favors from several of your coworkers on company time, and in a seemingly official capacity. This is a clear violation of company policy regarding sexual conduct in the office, on official channels, and during work hours. Our policy clearly states that benefits not considered "earned rewards", such as target bonuses, cannot be distributed to employees evenly, including so-called "social benefits".

To comply with policy, we ask that you either cease all sexual activity described herein immediately, or agree to both offer and receive such sexual services from all employees equally. The entire HR team would strongly urge you to choose the latter option, as it will not only go a long way to undoing the sense of unfairness this conduct has instilled in many employees, but will also likely improve overall corporate moral, including for us here in HR.

If you do choose the latter option, as we most certainly hope you will, HR may be required to change the designation and official duties of your employment, as it is likely this even distribution of activity will severely limit your capacity to carry out your existing work. Management has, however, already given the green light on this, as they are all eager for your well documented talents to become more widely available.

Please respond to this email with your selection by noon this coming Monday, so HR and Management can move forward and take any necessary adjustments to ensure your continued success with us.

Thank you for your time and for that thing you did the other day in the break room,

Laika Loveless HR Manager

Laika Loveless,

After due consideration, I will conditionally accept this new position within the company that Management has seen fit to develop for me. My stipulations are outlined as follows:

Pay increase commensurate to my increase in duties. We can scarcely say that I was compensated fairly for my admittedly assumed duties up to this point, but we can use them as a spring board. Based on my new adjusted workload intake, I would expect no less than a 130% increased salary yearly.

As I will be moving to a more physically intensive position within the company, this must be non-exempt.

I will require at minimum two PA's under my direct supervision. I do not have any singular or outstanding requests as to their work history or training beyond the ability to administer good and frequent massages.

Finally. I want Jessica's office. The nice one on the 3rd floor with the bay window. If you'll circle back to me on this in person, Ms. Loveless, I can review with you some additional information I may have pertinent to this request.

I am certain we can come to an understanding on all further points related to job function, the filing of appointments, and commission. The Christmas party will be sublime, this year.

I am thrilled to be helming this new venture on behalf of the company. It is as my father always told me, "get on your knees, girl!" He was right, and I am sincerely flattered to have my accomplishments so keenly realized by my superiors.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

- Lea Shepherd

Title Pending (Might I suggest Morale Officer?)

PS: GIRL I TOLD YOU WE GONNA MAKE THIS HAPPEN JESSICA IS FCKIN THROUGH see you at drinks at Marty's honey. kisses!

[watership-clown]

Debunking Lily's "Behavioural Psychology Degree" with facts and logic (and a two minute google search)

First of all, big ups to @skrinkskronk (EDIT: ammended the screenshot credit :) thank you to skrinkskronk for both the picture and the clarification!) as, without their keen screenshot button, this post could not and would not exist. You can check for yourself - the original ask no longer lives on Lily's blog (a fact that I'm sure many Lily defenders will have quite the opinion about - please see the questions section below! <3) Second of all: who the fuck am I?

Someone who attended university in Canada, that's who!

For real though: I have a bachelor's degree from the University of British Columbia, double majoring in English Literature and History. Does this mean I know anything at all about getting a behavioural psych degree?

No!

But I do know how attending university in Canada works. It is not at all as Lily describes. I'm going to largely avoid talking about the degree itself in this post - CrimsonEnder has already done the research on that and I highly recommend checking out his post for more information on why Lily couldn't even get the degree she claims to have studied for. Instead, I'm going to go forward as if we are in an alternate dimension where Lily made the far more believable claim that she was working towards a Bachelor of Science degree with a focus on Psychology.

Let's do a close reading, shall we?

And barely graduating is still graduating.

Starting off strong: this is a true statement! She's right, to get your high school diploma in the province of Nova Scotia, one must:

Meet the minimum number of credits requited for graduation, which is 18 (source: creditsforgraduationdiplomaen.pdf (ednet.ns.ca) )

That's it! (in my province we also had to pass a literacy assessment and do some 30 odd hours of community service. no, I'm not still salty about it 10 years later.)

However, passing is not succeeding. Lily has stated that she barely passed high school, did the bare minimum to get it over and done with. This is fine in and of itself. I attach no moral or intellectual weight to not caring about high school as it is by no means set up to let every child succeed. However, doing the "bare minimum" to pass does not open many doors for further schooling down the road. So, in order to pass a class, one must achieve a minimum of 60% - otherwise known as a grade of C. Assuming that for her 12th grade year Lily took a full load of 4 courses over two semesters, achieving the minimum grade that would allow her to walk the stage and get her diploma, she would leave high school with a 2.0 gpa.

Remember this score. 2.0. We will come back to this.

This is in Canada, there's no SAT's to take.

Look at that! 2 for 2 true statements. Canada has no SAT or nation-wide equivalent. Understanding this, in order to meet the minimum requirements for admission into university, one's GPA plays an extremely large role. For example, in order to even be considered for admission into McGill, one of Canada's top universities, one must have a 3-year minimum grade range of 85% (an A) and a final GPA of 4.0. Grades equal to or above this minimum do not guarantee admission (NO, I'm NOT still salty that I didn't get admitted). With a 2.0 GPA, Lily's application would have been tossed after a glance. "BUT BUT BUT!" I hear you say, "this is from one of Canada's most selective institutions! In a province Lily doesn't even live in! You're holding her to an improbable standard!" And you would be right! But this was just an example to showcase how university admissions function. Let's look at a uni a little closer to home. Let's even look at four:

Dalhousie University Undergrad minimum requirements: 75% or 3.0 (source: General admission requirements | Dalhousie University) )

Mount Saint Vincent University: 70% or 2.70 with no individual grade below 60% (source: Admissions (msvu.ca) )

Saint Mary's University: 70% or 2.70 with no individual grade below 60% (source: Canadian High School Curriculum Requirements | Future Students | Saint Mary's University (smu.ca) )

University of King's College: 75% or 2.0 with no individual grade below 60% (source: Undergraduate Admission Requirements | University of King's College (ukings.ca) )

She doesn't meet the minimum requirements for any local Halifax university or college with a psych program. However, if we are to be charitable, (and believe that Lily scored slightly above the true minimum of 60%) MSVU could have admitted her based on individual merit. From their mature students policy, we can read:

Applicants who present overall grade XII averages between 65 and 69 percent will be reviewed for admission on an individual basis. (source: Admissions (msvu.ca) )

I'm not going to pretend this isn't the case or couldn't be true or try to obfuscate it from her and her defenders.

... But if the rebuttal is so easy, why doesn't she say that?

You either graduated High School or you didn't.

I'm sure Lily did graduate high school. I'm certain she did so after putting in the minimum amount of required work. I do not believe that she has or ever intends to attend university in Canada.

Objections I'm sure this post will spark:

"skrinkskronk's screenshot could be faked!"

And I could have blue skin, but that is not reality. Rather than taking my word for the fact that this ask was real, the answer Lily gave was as shown above, and many people saw it before it went MIA, I instead invite you to consider something: asking Lily yourself. Go on! Ask her! In whatever way you find most comfortable, ask how she went to university for a) a degree that doesn't exist b) with a below-requirement gpa and c) paid for it with money she doesn't have. When she deletes your ask, ignores your superchat, or approaches your honest and genuine thirst for truth with hostility, I then want you to ask yourself why that is.

"Lily could have upgraded her scores at a local college before applying to university!"

Did she say that? Has she ever claimed to have done that? Or are you putting the right words into her mouth so she can easily go "Yup! that's what I did! Obviously!"

If she had done this (or had at least thought of this herself), why didn't she claim to have done this in the original ask? Wouldn't it be easier to just say "I upgraded later" than pretend that a measly 2.0 could get you into an advanced degree program? I have no doubt that Lily is going to recount her story and claim the above statement was true all along. "[She] just upgraded!" But I ask you to think on this, to really consider it: why is the story only changing after confrontation? If the answer is so simple and so obvious... why was it not always true?

"You say at multiple points that Lily could easily provide a rebuttal but she doesn't owe you or any of her critics a response!"

This is true! However, she responds to criticism all the time.

Her taking down Sai's streams is her responding to Sai's criticism. Her snarkily talking around Ant and his content in her videos is her responding to his criticism. Her answering asks from her fans (despite in her "rules" stating that she will not) filling her in on the goings on of her critics is a response to their criticism. A response isn't always the literal "and to that I say: blah blah blah".

If Crimson, I, or anyone else who thought twice about this situation were wrong: could we not be easily disproved? She is the one who (supposedly) attempted the degree. The records would exist. She would have access to them. She would not run away when challenged with a very easily disprovable argument. As much as Lily loves to protest that she ignores the haters and refuses to respond to criticism, that claim is demonstrably false. She responds to criticism all the time - she can't keep Sai, Crimson, or Ant's names out of her mouth while on stream, in her videos, or on her blog. If she had an easy win, she would take it. She has before. She will again.

Closing Arguments

I feel like I have adequately demonstrated that, even if Lily did apply for an undergraduate degree, if not the flashy shiny

Behavioural Psychology

that she claims, she likely wouldn't have even made it past the admissions stage. I don't want to say that it's completely impossible for her to have attempted post-secondary education. As stated above: MSVU could have admitted her based on individual merit.

What I do hope is that this post invites people think more critically about her claims.

What do I think happened with the original ask? I think some anon, the original question asker or otherwise, challenged her before I or CrimsonEnder did. This scared her and, realizing she'd been caught, tried to wash away the evidence before anyone else could trip on the lie. Sadly, that's not what happened.

If she did attend university, how did she pay for it? Is a 2.0 GPA enough to qualify her for a scholarship, grant, or bursary? A 4 year degree in Canada can easily run a person $6,463 per year, not including textbooks or other fees. Where did she suddenly get that much money? These claims are so easily questioned and disproven because Lily Orchard thinks her audience is too whipped and fundamentally too stupid to ever seek the information for themselves.

She does not respect you. She does not respect your intelligence as a human being.

You deserve better.

[victoria-daydreams]

The Winner Takes It All||Challengers

AN: So, I finally I got to see Challengers yesterday and boy do I have thoughts that may or may not be weaved into the story, things still might be ooc or wrong. Also, I'm warning y'all now, I know absolutely nothing about tennis/college and partook in half ass research on how the sport functions.

Based this fic off the most gut wrenching ABBA song because it fits so well with the story. I hope you all enjoy this mini series, don't know if I did it justice from translating this from my head onto Tumblr, but we move. And hopefully there aren't any spelling or grammar errors, but if there are, we die like men.

A playlist for this series is coming soon!

Word Count: 3.5k

Trigger Warnings: mentions of colorism and racism

Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kailkailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstalli @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey

I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don't know if you'll get the notification.

Part One: Sugar & Spice

With her arms folded across her chest, Gianna's eyes were glued to the TV screen in front of her as two male sports analysts began to discuss their pick for match of the day.

"Oh man, this right here was my favorite today!" one analyst stated excitedly.

"For sure! It was the match to watch as the tennis world bore witness to the next up-and-coming tennis star," the other commentator agreed.

The camera cut away from the men and to the highlights of the mixed doubles championship match.

"Out the gate Gianna Langdon, ranked number five in girls singles, set the the tone for the day with a powerful ace to start the match,"

A clip of the opening minute of the match is put on the screen with Gianna throwing the ball high in the air for the first, and perfectly executed serve, followed by her pumping her fist in triumph with a grin.

"From there, she and her partner, Max Sullivan, kept their opponents, Roy Christians and Marie Riviera on the back foot for what seemed like the entire match,"

Gianna studied the way she nimbly moved around on the grass court, her swift volleys, sharp serves, and effortless backhands left no room for doubt that she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Play of the match goes to none other than Gianna Langdon, with this volley to put the nail in the coffin of this championship," the analyst reported, as the final moments of the match popped up on the screen.

With a powerful strike, the tennis ball was slammed back over the net by Roy onto Gianna's side of the court. Roy's hit lifted the ball high into the air forcing Gianna to reposition herself and backpedal to the spot to return it. Leaping up, Gianna smashed the ball down with force, out of reach from both Marie and Roy, the game winning hit. The clip replayed, but only this time in slow motion, so viewers at home could properly admire the athleticism on display. ESPN then did a jump cut of Gianna and Max both dropping their rackets simultaneously before rushing towards each other to embrace. Max even lifted up her a bit, twirling them around as they celebrated their victory.

The camera panned back to the two commentators who were wrapping up their coverage of the tournament.

"Honestly, Gianna Langdon just dominates the tennis field for her age group whether it's single or doubles," the commentator complimented, gathering his papers up in his hands and tapping it against the desk.

Gianna's lips lifted at the praise, its rare she gets her flowers as a tennis player.

"She's a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about that. If she keeps playing like she is now, she can easily break into the top three, but she's no Tashi Duncan," the other commentator corrected.

At this, her smile instantly fell off her face. Since freshman year of high school, Gianna has forever lived under the inescapable shadow of the phenomenal, powerhouse that is Tashi Duncan. Because Tashi wasn't just some athlete, she was the athlete. The next Serena Williams, as some people taken to calling her. Gianna might as well been chopped liver.

The girls have been thick as thieves since Gianna moved to the same school as Tashi and was paired up by their coach to be doubles partners. The duo were unstoppable on the court, as Gianna was a tennis prodigy in her own right, but often was relegated to just being known as Tashi Duncan's partner. A repeated slight which didn't go unnoticed by her two strongest supporters, her parents. They made it their mission to drill Gianna with an unshakable sense of self confidence in not only her skills with a tennis racket, but also her appearance.

"Don't you ever let the media or naysayers play in your face about your talents, Gianna," her father's words echoing in her head. "You already know, you have to work twice as hard to get half the recognition compared to others," he went on.

Gianna recalled the exact day, he gave her this speech. She was probably fifteen and won a match against some Eastern European girl, it was an upset, and boy did everyone make it a point to tell her so. It ranged from backhanded compliments to outright slurs lobbed at her.

"Oh, so when Tashi pulverizes her opponent on the court who's ranked higher than her it's admirable, but when I do it's a problem!" she complained.

"Competing against Tashi, you need to be prepared that narratives are going to be formed and pushed from factors beyond your control," her father warned. "She's lighter, you're darker. She's thin, you have curves. You're both confident, but only one of you is going to be labeled as arrogant," he listed.

"It's a shame we didn't get to see Duncan and Langdon compete together in girls doubles this year," the analyst said, snapping Gianna out her thoughts.

"Agreed, the best girl duo in juniors we've seen in years,"

Images of Gianna and Tashi materialized on the screen, some were from the last two Junior US Open Championships; both of the, proudly beaming and holding their trophies high above their heads and kissing each other's cheek. But, the one picture that stood out the most to Gianna was their cover on Tennis. Both of them had their arms folded and their game faces on with the headline emblazoned below them.

“Sugar & Spice”

~~~x~~~

Rounding the corner of the hallway, the doors where Tashi's party was being held outside came into Gianna's view. Music and the low murmur of voices floated out of the room, bouncing off the walls as she drew closer. From the corner of Gianna's eyes, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror promoting her to stop. A pair of eyes, identical to color of rich, molasses stared back at her. Carefully, Gianna studied herself in the mirror from every angle. The healthy glow of her golden, deep brown skin made the light dusting of freckles decorating her upper cheeks and nose more prominent.

"She's no Tashi Duncan,"

It only took those four, little words to dampen Gianna's cheery demeanor and leave her brooding since the afternoon.

Lips pursed, she shook her head slightly, "No, no, no," she whispered to herself. "You're still a champion, Gianna. Fuck that ESPN analyst," she said lowly, smoothing out the pale yellow halter dress she wore.

Letting a lopsided grin grow on her lips, Gianna moved away from the mirror and entered into the ballroom where the party was in full swing. She weaved her way through the crowd to find Tashi, but found herself stopping repeatedly to smile and shake hands as people crowded round her to congratulate her on her match. Gianna couldn't help but feel smug. For once, people were basking in her presence and enjoying the chance to meet a future tennis star in person. It boosted Gianna's ego—a pure, bone-deep satisfaction that something in the air was beginning to shift.

She was starting to be seen as a standout player, not just an extension to Tashi.

Thanking her last well wisher, Gianna's eyes met Tashi's who was a few feet from where she stood. A flicker of recognition flittered across her face and she smiled a tiny smile. Tashi was not alone though, two boys were standing in front her and seemed to be having a very lively conversation.

"What's this I see?" Gianna wondered aloud, brushing past one of the boys. "I'm gone for a minute and you're already making new friends without me," she joked, dropping into the empty chair next to Tashi.

Across from her, both boys were slack jawed and unable to tear their eyes away Gianna. Pride simmered in her chest, Gianna already knew that she was beautiful, but it was nice to be reminded of that fact every now and then. Especially, when there's two boys ogling at her looks and treating her like a divine being.

"You boys gonna stop staring and introduce yourselves, or what?" Gianna questioned, her words flavored with a lulling Louisiana drawl and the boys snapped from their stupor.

"Let me, these two seem to be malfunctioning," Tashi cut in, with a smirk.

"They keep on drooling any longer, they'll catch flies," Gianna quipped, her nude colored lips curling upwards.

Tashi motioned to the dark haired boy with sharp features, "This is Patrick Zweig," she introduced, as Gianna's eyes met Patrick's gray ones, holding her stare and grinning widely. Confidence that bordered on cockiness practically radiated off him. "And this is Art Donaldson," Tashi continued, gesturing to the boy next to Patrick.

Art only allowed himself a small, shy, smile when her eyes shifted over to him. Unabashedly, Gianna let her eyes roam over Art's features. Those blond curls, those blue eyes.

God, they're both gorgeous.

Tashi placed her hand on Gianna's knee, "Patrick and Art, this is my best friend—" she started.

"Gianna Langdon," Patrick and Art interjected simultaneously, causing a Cheshire grin to form on Gianna's lips.

"Well, well, my fan club only continues to grow this tournament," Gianna joked, playing with the curly ends of her pick and drop braids.

"Deservedly so, you were absolutely amazing this tournament," Art complimented, a breathy chuckle leaving him.

"That play when you landed a split after playing a return," Patrick mentioned, beaming at her. "And you still got the point, fucking incredible!" he praised, shaking his head.

She smiled, "Oh, so you two have been avidly watching my matches then?" Gianna questioned, playfulness in her voice while slightly leaning forward in her seat.

"Ashamedly, not initially," Art admitted, and Gianna quirked brow. "But after your storybook comeback in Round 4, we knew there was no way we couldn’t stop watching you," he added quickly.

"Singles or doubles," Patrick chimed in.

"Did you by chance watch any of our matches, Gianna?" Art asked timidly, staring at her with hopeful eyes.

She smirked, "Singles or doubles?" Gianna asked back, smoothly echoing Patrick's words.

"Either," Patrick responded, his eyes drinking her in.

They both seemed mesmerized. Leaning in closer, as if they were going to learn her with their close proximity. Gianna hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and raising a finger to her chin to mull over the question. She glanced over to Tashi, who was already watching her with an amused expression. Embarrassingly, Gianna kind of forgot her best friend was literally sitting next to her, she had become too engrossed in her conversation with the newcomers.

"No, can't say that I have," Gianna answered finally, with a shrug.

Art deflated, his face falling as the tips of his ears went fiery red, while Patrick's shoulders sagged a little.

"O-Oh," Art breathed.

There was a silence. Gianna looked off to her side again to see a ghost of a grin threatening to appear on Tashi's face. When the two girls' eyes connected with each other, they burst out laughing at the same time. Both boys looked at each other wordlessly, both speechless by this.

"Gia's just fucking with you two," Tashi explained, in between laughter.

Relief couldn't have been written across their faces more clearly.

"Yeah, I actually watched your championship match while I was in the recovery room," Gianna informed, her giggles subsiding. "Your between the legs shot was very inspired, Patrick," she remarked, with a smile.

At this, Patrick puffed out his chest a bit.

"You know, they're playing against each other tomorrow in the boys singles championship match," Tashi mentioned, her eyes bouncing between the boys.

"Are they now?" Gianna responded, an intrigued smirk gracing her face while crossing one leg over the other.

"We are!" Art blurted out, almost too eagerly.

"You both should come and watch," Patrick suggested.

Gianna cocked her head to the side, "Hmm, maybe," she answered, having a little fun toying with them.

Tashi rose from her chair, reaching her hand out for Gianna's.

"Come on, my dad is waving me over to come take pictures," Tashi informed.

"This is a group activity?" Gianna questioned, her brows furrowing.

"No, but the demand for Gianna Langdon is ever growing," she reminded, her eyes filled with mirth.

"It sure is," Gianna agreed, taking her hand as her friend helped her to her feet. Gianna looked over to Patrick and Art. "Well, ciao. It was nice meeting y'all," Gianna said, waving goodbye as Tashi led her away.

"Goodbye?" Patrick jokingly scoffed. "We'll be here all night!" he called out after her.

~~~x~~~

True to their word, Patrick and Art were in the same spot where Gianna and Tashi had left them earlier and they were more than willing to continue hanging out with the girls. Which is how the group of four found themselves on the beach, slowly treading along the sand, the dark blue sky and millions of stars above them. Naturally, Tashi had found herself in the middle of the group with Patrick flanking on her left and Art on her right.

Gianna was next to Art and as they walked, their arms would accidentally brush against each other every now and then. Both of them exchanging shy smiles at the fleeting contact that sent butterflies fluttering in Gianna's stomach. She secretly relished the contact from Art, he radiated warmth similar to that of a dryer-warm blanket; a nice contrast to the cool sand between her toes.

"You know earlier, Tashi asked us who was fire and who was ice," Patrick spoke, looking over to Gianna. "I figured I should return the favor, between the two of you, who's sugar and who's spice?" he asked, his eyes bouncing from Tashi to her.

"Tashi, is definitely 'spice'," Gianna answered, and Tashi rolled her eyes with a smile. "She's more fiery than me and has a more aggressive play style than I do," she explained.

"Making you 'sugar', of course," Art reasoned, the two staring at one another. "You are the perfect mix of deadly grace and effortless balance on the court," he described, going in an almost dreamlike trance.

"Why, thank you Art," Gianna said, bumping her arm into his.

"If Tashi is 'spice' and your 'sugar', why does the media switch it around?" Patrick wondered.

"Preconceived notions, methinks," Gianna replied, simply shrugging her shoulders.

They wandered along until they settled on a spot to hang out at. Art and Patrick both sat in deck chairs while Tashi and Gianna perched themselves on a large rock. Conversation flowed between all them on a myriad of topics ranging from college, life in general, and of course tennis.

"So Gianna," Patrick began, a small curious and mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your doubles partner Bryce—"

"It's Max," Gianna corrected flatly, with a laugh.

He smirked, "I was in the ballpark," Patrick argued, throwing his hands up. "Anyways, you and Max, you two a thing?" he asked curiously, before taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Eww, no!" Tashi exclaimed, her nose twisting in disgust. "You think Gia has such low standards?" she asked back, clearly offended on Gianna's behalf.

"Tashi, come on, Max is not that bad of a person," Gianna stated, lifting her hand up to tell her to calm down.

"Honestly, I don't know how she does it," Tashi went on. "It's a miracle she can still walk after carrying Max through this entire tournament," she sneered.

"Look, Max is not someone who I would consider as an ideal mixed doubles partner," Gianna conceded, her gaze meeting everyone's. "He's mediocre actually," she said bluntly, making Patrick and Art both snicker. "However, Max as an individual and not as an athlete, he's a wonderful guy," she said, with a slight shrug. "Us dating has never once crossed my mind," she finished, waving her hand dismissively.

"So it sounds like you'll be in need of a new partner soon," Patrick hinted, a hunger in his stare.

"Hmm, I guess I will," Gianna agreed, letting a coy smile grow on her lips. "You know anybody?" she asked, tilting her head a little.

"I can think of two people off the top of my head," Art responded, taking a drag of his own cigarette and blowing it out slowly.

"Oh, is that so? And who just—" Gianna started.

Suddenly, Gianna's phone began noisily vibrating in her lap, putting an end to the playful between the boys and Gianna. She picked up her phone and flipped it open before exhaling heavily, it was her dad texting her.

"Shit, fun's over guys," Gianna announced, with another sigh. "My dad wants me back in my room," she explained, unfolding her legs.

"Your won a championship today, and you're father won't let you stay up late to celebrate?" Patrick asked in disbelief, leaning forward in his chair.

"Obviously, you don't know my father if you think a single championship win is going to get him to loosen his reins on his regimented schedule for me," Gianna stated, grabbing her sandals and letting them dangle from her fingers.

"You're about to be off to Stanford, it's insane your dad is giving you a curfew," Art chimed in.

"Well, I'm not at Stanford yet," Gianna pointed out. "And also..." she trailed off, turning to Tashi who had a knowing look on her face. "His roof, his rules," they both said in unison, after hearing those words countlessly over the years.

Finally standing up from the rock, the boys followed suit. Both of their gazes traveled the length of Gianna yet again, as if they needed to commit her to memory.

"I can walk you back to the ferry and to your hotel," Art offered kindly.

"We both could," Patrick volunteered.

"As much as I am flattered that both of you want to walk me back, I can manage just fine," Gianna assured. "Plus, we're all going to be playing an unwanted game of 21 questions if my dad sees two, random white boys walking me to my room," she remarked, with a chuckle.

Tashi pushed herself up onto her feet, "I'll come with you, Gia,"

"No, no stay, Tashi," Gianna encouraged. "Don't end the fun on my account," she insisted. "Another time will come about for all of us to hang out again, right?" she questioned.

A toothy grin broke out on Patrick's face, "There's gonna be another time?" he asked

"I don't see why not," she answered, mirroring his expression. "The three of us are going to be at Stanford together, and I'm sure you come visit from time to time. It all works out so well!" Gianna said excitedly.

Art opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill ringing of Gianna's phone silenced him. Looking down at the phone, she grimaced slightly.

"Shit, I really have to go, my dad is calling now," Gianna stressed.

"Then get going," Tashi prompted, playfully swatting her bottom.

A surprised whoop escaped Gianna's lips before morphing into a giggle as she began to half-walk, half-jog away from the group. She spun around to face them, continuing to walk backwards.

"This was really fun y'all, we should do this again, yeah?" she yelled.

"I look forward to it!" Art yelled back.

"Me too!" Patrick shouted.

Laughing, Gianna spun around and jogged away, all too aware of the three pair of eyes boring into her back.

~~~x~~~

Propped up against the hotel bed headboard, Gianna was tucked underneath the blankets with a well-worn copy of Baking with Julia in her hands. If tennis was her first love, then baking was her second. There was nothing more relaxing than to Gianna than being able to slow down and just allowing herself to focus on precision, without any of the heightened stakes that came with tennis. Not to mention, beating eggs or whisking a cake were great ways to rid herself of any frustration she may be feeling.

A series of rhythmic knocks on her door pulled Gianna from her musings. She didn't even have to ask who it was, she could tell by the pattern of the familiar knock.

"Just use the card I gave you, Tashi," Gianna called, her voice just loud enough for her to hear.

There's a quiet click of the door unlocking before the door opened a crack and Tashi's head popped into her room, a shit eating grin on her face.

"Hurry up and get in here, before my dad sees!" Gianna ordered, with a laugh.

Closing the door behind her, Tashi pranced over to Gianna and sat beside her on the floor on the edge of her bed.

"Tell me everything! What happened after I left?" Gianna asked, a smile of her own on her face.

"They invited me to come up to their room,"

"And you went?"

"I did," Tashi answered, a smirk on her lips.

Gianna landed a playful hit on Tashi's arm, "No fucking way!" she whispered, her eyes wide. "You hooked up with both of them?"

"I didn't sleep with them," Tashi corrected. "We only made out, and then they made out," she added, smirking proudly.

Gianna raised an eyebrow, "They made out? Patrick and Art?" she questioned.

"Yep," Tashi grinned.

"On their own or did they have some help?" Gianna asked, arching a brow.

Wordlessly, Tashi plucked Gianna's book from her hands and she straddled her, resting each leg on either side of Gianna.

"They did most of the heavy lifting, I just gave them the push they needed," Tashi explained, looping her arms around her friend's neck.

"Now, I'm a little jealous. I missed out on all the fun," Gianna complained, sticking out her lower lip in a mock pout.

"Gia babe, don't worry, I did not forget about you," Tashi reassured, as Gianna hands came to rest on Tashi's thighs. "Remember their match tomorrow?" she reminded.

"Yeah,"

"Winner gets my number…." Tashi trailed off, removing her right arm from around Gianna's neck. "And yours," she finished, lightly tapping the tip of her nose.

A slow smile spread across Gianna's lips as Tashi's words sunk in. She knew exactly what her friend was up to, especially if it meant Tashi could watch some "real fuckin' tennis".

"Tashi Duncan, the girl that you are," Gianna praised, letting out a chuckle.

Leaning forward, Gianna planted a soft kiss on Tashi's lips. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but as Gianna went to pull away, Tashi held her face, keeping their lips connected.

Tashi withdrew herself from Gianna, "Tomorrow is gonna be so fucking good," she grinned, her eyes twinkling at the thought. "And guess what is the best part about all of this, Gia?" she questioned, their forehead resting against each others.

"What?'

"We already have them wrapped our fingers, without even trying," Tashi answered, sending the girls into a fit of giggles.

Part II: Maneaters

[chaaistained]

totally ib my loyal darling bodyguard anon aksjdjskd that’s your name now love here are more red strings that i’ve weaved together in my latest addition to the tapestry of realities to which i shift :

every one of my s/o’s ends up putting flowers in my hair at some point, and if possible, they use jasmine flowers ≈

here’s a little brief summary for my main four

— in my better cr it’s probably one of the easier realities for my s/o to find jasmines : if it wasn’t clear already, my bf is indian as well, actually, he’s the same “kind” of indian as i am, from the next state over, same language, same religion . so it’s easy for for him to find jasmines garlands for me, but the beauty of the matter comes from how he sits me down to carefully pin them in my hair, taking each garland strand and weaving it into my braid before tying it off in the end. i can actually feel how gentle he would be with it, i can even smell the jasmines if i just take a second to imagine . trust, the minute the two of us can stop hiding our relationship, i will be handing him every single flower i get in a festival or function or wtv, bcs i want him to secure it in my hair. even if it’s simply a common garden flower that we come across during a date, i can see him take the time to carefully tuck it in between my hair before carrying on like that was the most normal thing to do, like my heart isn’t racing ready to leap out of my chest in this very moment

.

— in my marauders dr regulus would usually just give me any small flower he found that he thought i would like, but after learning my favourite, he would undoubtedly conjure up jasmine flowers on command, he probably looked up the specific spell just to learn it for me hehe . they’d disappear after a few hours, and that’s always a little sad but that’s also what makes them so lovely and so special, he took the time to learn a totally unnecessary spell simply bcs he knew it would make me happy, and he even modified the spell so that the intoxicating scent of the jasmines would waft around me, like a calming ambience but for my senses. and when he finally finds what he’s looking for in the hogsmeade apothecary — a few vials half filled with water housing a couple stems of jasmine flower buds — he buys the lot and would carefully coax them to bloom so that i’d finally have a real garland of jasmines in my hair

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— in my arrowverse dr it’s one of those small little wishes that i never really share with anyone, no one knows how much i love having small flowers weaved through my hair. barry definitely noticed that i love the smell of jasmines and looks out for jasmine scented perfume or candles, specifically for that reason . but it isn’t until we find ourselves on an undercover op in a river village town in south india that barry notices how my eyes light up when one of the village elders carefully tied up the jasmine flowers into a long garland and handed it to me. by the time we got back to central city barry had learned how to make a flower chain — whenever he’s free you’ll find him fiddling in a corner until he’s got at least six or seven little wildflowers tied together before handing it to me or circling the garland around the base of my ponytail or something like that

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— in my kpop dr i actually make a point of demonstrating to people, to the fandom, that i enjoy having flowers in my hair. it’s very common to find clips of me throughout my years as an idol, where i pick off a small flower from the stem of a tree or a bush and give it a little shake near the grass (in case of any stray crawlies) before wearing it . this became such a noticeable unofficial trademark that even our groups concept photos lean into it, placing me or all of the girls in flower crowns, or pinning flowers to my slick back bun when we have a photoshoot. so, in that way, jungwon isn’t unfamiliar with my love for flowers as a hair accessory. but what makes it special from him is something so typically jungwon — every little flower that he finds and gives to me, he will place it in my hair whilst telling me some random fact about the flower, something he just happened to know off the top of his head, or he’ll tell me a small anecdote about how he found it, he’ll share a little story with me, and i don’t think he does this for any particular reason, but for me, it helps me remember those flowers so much more . also bcs one of my hobbies in this dr is pressing flowers and i will nine times out of ten press the flowers that jungwon gives me after i’ve worn them in my hair all day

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