#but anyway i'm sorry for needing to vent this somewhere

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[rebelcliche]

another ooc post (are we surprised at this point?) just to say for everyone to remember that sometimes people need to take a step back from things and there's nothing wrong with that. if you can't handle someone having to look out for their mental health and can't respect that they're doing what they need to do to look out for themself, you make yourself look like an ass.

[izzy-b-hands]

finally broke into one of my new syringes (still have some old ones, but figured hey i should try them for this shot)

Tw for bitching abt medical shit/my injs below the cut

and i just. why is my doc intentionally making this harder. I ask for 3ml syringes bc it's what im used to and know how to draw up. She agreed to that, so i never checked my new ones bc why should i? she listened, she sent in for 3mls, right?

NOPE. fucking 1 ml which means figuring out the draw up has required online searching to make sure it's right, and bonus! everything I've found doesn't recommend it for T bc it's such a slow inj to begin with, and 'many feel it takes longer to inject in smaller syringes designed mainly for IV use, which lessens compliance with injection schedules in some'

And i hate how it looks. it looks like so much more, and i know that's stupid bc it isn't, it's the same amount as usual, but the sight of it is v much involved in me getting my injs done with my fear of needles. I know, again, I KNOW planned parenthood is dealing with not enough funding, hands on staff, etc, but does that really prevent you from listening to your patient and trying to help them with shit like this? bc i don't think it should. I'm still forever grateful they've been helping me keep my T going until I find a primary care doc, but at the same time...what the fuck? I said this would be an issue, and i need to stay with my usual supplies. If that was an issue for them, i was willing to buy syringes myself from the medical gear shop I've used for extra supplies before (that will ship out here, I've checked.) Why won't she just fucking. listen, and talk to me? if all she could do was 1 ml syringes, fine, BUT FUCKING TELL ME THAT BEFORE SO I CAN JUST BUY MY OWN

Like. I will get this done. ill use these crap syringes up bc I refuse to waste them.

But now I'm overly nervous and worried im gonna fuck it up with the new syringe, or that it will hurt more or take even longer to inject than usual, so my hands are too shaky to do it! im already a day late with it, and I'd bet ten bucks I wont be able to calm myself enough to do it until tomorrow. Yes, this is also autism bs of needing things the same but like. I've had to do a lot of adjusting since last year, and have made efforts to accept changes and sporadic things. it's been hard as fuck, but I've fucking done it. so why can't i have one fucking thing like this stay the same? just my inj supplies, that's it! I'll accept and deal with other changes but for fuck's sake, she KNOWS I'm nervous abt fucking up my injections (bc i always want them to go well so i get as much med in me as i can, with minimal tracking out after it), why the fuck wouldn't she at least tell me if she was limited in syringes/what she can rx?

Why don't docs listen when i talk, and why won't they just talk and be honest with me like a fucking adult. is that honestly so fucking difficult?

Apparently so 🙃

[tired-aliensoul]

Stepped on the scale today

In total, from the time I started dating Cory, I have gained 5.9kg. Over three years essentially. I'm at numbers I haven't seen for 10 years at least.

I'm not in recovery, so does this trip me out? Hell yeah. But whatever. I just keep annoying myself with these spirals of thoughts that I can't really express to anyone because no one really gets it. They don't see what I do, and that probably kills me the most.

Like I'm well aware of what I look like to others. I've always known. But it's not their comfort, is it? I spend hours working on changing what I'm saying to myself so that I don't lose again. But good God somedays I just wanna st*b myself.

Like, ugh, often times I just like to forget I have a body, and I have finally found people who don't judge me straight out on my size who are other females. I've got friends. But do I? I'm anxious. I've been left by others so many times because they compared themselves to me more so than enjoyed my company. That always hurts. I'm always afraid it's gonna happen, because it comes out of nowhere. I'm getting married and I went through all the people I used to call close friends and so many of them I thought would be here for a day like this, but they're not.

I'm tired of being judged by how I look and not being able to complain about gaining without getting "go d**" looks. I want to talk about going to the gym without being asked why I bother, and being told I don't need to go. Have you ever been toned? I don't mind a higher number on the scale if I'm toned. I can eat more if I'm working out.

I'm starting a new job in a female dominated field. All new judgment, watching what I say. It's tiring. I slept for a lot of yesterday. I miss Cory.

I'm heartbroken and frustrated. I'm tired of others having opinions on me. I'm tired of losing people I had such fond memories with. I truly fall in love with my friends, and it takes me forever to move on when they leave abruptly. It never gets easier. Anyway. Probably gonna actually cry since I haven't for a few months. If you've read this far. Sorry. It's just a pity party. But isn't that what a personal blog is for?

[syninplays]

Today in Kyra's ramblings: I just watched (yeah, watched) the TLK podcast in youtube and I just wanna say I find it offensive how atractive I find Arnas when he's dressed up as Sihtric and I say this as someone's who has been very gay lately. Anyway I call it the 'viking effect' because there are some pics of him (out of character, that is) out there I don't like that much but the moment I see literally ANY pic of this dude in his viking leather armor has me like this emoji 😍

[halfdeadwallfly]

Warning: maaassivvee vent incoming

So, I'm mad at my doctor.

I've been seeing her basically since birth. I've always had issues, if you will, but in the last couple years, everything just compounded, and stuff has been cropping up more seriously. I went to therapy, got diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder. Was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder and switched to a specialist. Got recommended to see an occupational therapist for related tics. Started looking for another general therapist to deal with worsening anxiety. Got recommended by my sibling's therapist to look into the possibility of being on the autism spectrum.

Through this, I've had to go back and forth with my normal doctor, discussing diagnoses, medication, etc. I've had to hear her opinions on my problems, put together through brief, cordial meetings of her asking me basically irrelevant questions about what she mistakenly perceives to be going on.

Anxiety? She asked about the stress of my school workload, and recommended that I go to prom. OCD? She asked about compulsions like hand-washing and checking locks. She attributed the symptoms that I tried to explain, for the most part, to anxiety.

My mom, not knowing how to deal with a tic attack, brought me into the office one day when I couldn't stay at school during a rehearsal. My whole body was sore and exhausted from shaking, my knuckles were bleeding from being tapped open, and I was trying not to cry waiting for it all to die down. When I went in for my next appointment, she awkwardly asked about "the things you have to do sometimes that make you stressed."

When I brought up potential autism screening, she was shocked and taken aback. She didn't think that could at all be an option, because, as she put it, I'm too smart. People with autism, she said, have trouble speaking, behave inappropriately in social settings, and don't understand social norms and boundaries. In her assessment, based solely on twenty-minute-long annual checkups (always, of course, accompanied by politely stilted small talk and guarded non-personal positivity), she determined that I have never really had any issues socially that would warrant concern. She said that I could maybe be on the spectrum, which would mean that I had some autistic traits, but not actually Autistic. When she asked why I thought to bring this up, I explained my thoughts about sensory issues, social struggle, stimming, and my preference to make plans and find comfort in routine. She was, of course, doubtful. She referred to moments that my mom cited as potential meltdowns during my childhood as moments when I get "tearful."

And it's just all so frustrating, because on top of having to deal with all this stuff and the rest of my life as it is, I have to worry about how this doctor will potentially completely misunderstand the issue and become a roadblock to getting better treatment and understanding for myself. I wish that I could have a medical professional on my side, to help and explain things to my parents when they misunderstand or underestimate what's going on, but instead it's just someone else in a position of authority that isn't getting it either. And I don't want to complain, because I know that there are so many people going through much worse, but it's just frustrating. I can only hope that my doctor is better with other patients who haven't had the opportunity to see other professionals like I have.

Anyway, TL;DR, my doctor doesn't understand my non-physical health issues and it's really annoying because I still have to go through her about it.

[holllandtrash]

haunted | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (part 2 to fragile line)

Can't breathe whenever you're gone Can't turn back now, I'm haunted

you're racing. daniel isn't, but he's not gone either, is he? word count: 7.6k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: angst really, more incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps again, platonic love all around, not as big of a rollercoaster as part 1 but just wait till part 3 lol

“Do you know?”

“Do I know what?” You asked, wondering why that was the first thing your teammate said when you opened the door to your flat. 

Lando didn’t even bother with a ‘hey, how was your day, what’s up’, he was just straight to the point, only you had no idea what the point was. 

He was still on a high after coming in second place the other day, so you let the impoliteness slide. Usually Lando didn’t look like a mix between a sweaty mess and a confused child, but you assumed he was like this because whatever was on his mind was important.

“You haven’t- did you-” Lando stammered over his words. “When’s the last time you checked your phone?”

You felt around in your pockets and glanced over your shoulder with a bit of a shrug. If you were being honest, you hadn’t looked at your phone in a few hours. Your morning was spent training and running errands now that you had some time and were home for a little while before the next race. You were still carrying a lot of energy after your successful finish in Silverstone that sitting still and scrolling through your phone was the last thing you wanted to be doing right now.

“Can you just find your phone, please?” Lando asked, because he didn’t want to be the person to break the news. He came over to talk to you, to walk you through it, to be someone to vent to if you needed it, but the last thing he wanted was to be the one to say it. 

It took a minute, but you found it in your bedroom, the screen lighting up and vibrating with each notification. As you walked back towards Lando, you scrolled through them all, trying to see which was the most important. 

Eventually, you landed on one from the official F1 app.

Daniel Ricciardo Replaces Nyck de Vries

Daniel Ricciardo was returning to the grid.

Daniel was coming back. 

But did he ever really leave in the first place?

You hadn’t spoken to him since that day in Monaco, almost a year ago now. The day your relationship fell apart, crumbling to pieces around you. 

You thought maybe, maybe, he’d call you before the next race or at least try to find you somewhere in the paddock to have a civil conversation but that didn’t happen. 

Of course, neither of you had time for a conversation anyway.

Daniel released his video 24 hours before media day in Belgium, announcing he would be leaving the team. It broke your heart watching it in your hotel room, knowing he was only a few floors up and probably struggled to record it. You could picture him retaking it a few times, just to get the words right, his tone right. He didn’t want to paint McLaren as being at fault for this decision, even if that was the case. 

If you weren’t the driver who was set to replace him, you would have been there in that room giving him encouraging nods and telling him to just speak to the fans. You would have been there when his head fell back against the wall in defeat, eyes closed as the weight of his unknown future crashed down on him. You would have crawled onto his lap and held him, telling him that another team was going to be desperate for him. 

Instead you were in your own room, watching the video like the millions of other followers he had. The only difference was, none of those followers asked themselves if they were to blame. 

It was just you, wiping the corner of your eyes and asking yourself if this was your fault. 

Surely when your news dropped, people would start pointing fingers, people would talk. 

Daniel Ricciardo trained her, they would say. He helped her get to this point and now she’s taking his seat. 

They’d throw assumptions into the wind about how this was probably your plan all along. 

It wasn’t, of course. Your plan was to get a seat in Formula 1 and see Daniel as friendly competition when you stepped onto the grid. You wanted to keep the support system alive when you moved up, knowing you had someone watching your back when you climbed out of the car. You wanted to be able to go home with him at the end of the night on Sunday and watch the race back with him, playfully critiquing each other's moves and ideally celebrating your victories, together.

You never wanted to leave him without a seat. 

But part of you must have known he wasn’t driving next year, right? You never brought up the contract, he never talked about leaving, nor did he talk about potentially moving to another team, which seemed like something you’d talk to your partner about. 

Daniel said nothing. You said nothing. And in the back of your head you knew he wasn’t signed to another team, you just didn’t want to accept it. 

You didn’t want to admit that part of that was your fault. 

Zak Brown put you in the worst position possible. He was giving you the chance to make your dream a reality, but in doing so, you were losing the one person who shared that dream with you. 

It shouldn’t have been hard to put on a smile during that post-race interview in Spa. You finished second, your hot streak had continued despite the turmoil your heart was going through. So not only was the adrenaline pumping through your veins from the podium, but McLaren had decided that morning was the perfect time to announce you were replacing Daniel. 

They didn’t word it like that, though. They just stated that you were to race for McLaren for 2023. No mention of Daniel, even if that was all anyone had questions about. 

“Second place in Spa, how are you feeling?” The reporter asked as you struggled to get comfortable in the white leather chair, your trophy at your feet. 

You weren’t surprised he, Richard from the official FIA reporting team, jumped directly to you, bypassing any questions for Liam Lawson who finished third. No one had yet to get a comment on your official move to F1, not having any time this morning since the news was announced. 

“It's exciting, it’s good to be back as well,” you nodded, turning to Felipe on your right who nodded as well. “A break is always needed, but there’s really no better feeling than getting back behind the wheel.”

“You’ve never podiumed here before,” Richard pointed out, “There’s quite a difference in performance from last year to this year, we’ve all noticed.” 

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” You laughed, not caring at all if it sounded forced, and you knew it did because Liam raised his hand to mouth to hide his chuckle and tried to play it off like he was just scratching his jaw. 

“Well it’s just no wonder that McLaren has snatched you up for the 2023 season, with how much you’ve shown this year what you’re capable of. Care to comment on that?” 

There it was. The first official request to talk about McLaren. 

“I mean, we’ve all seen the news at this point,” another laugh but this time it was more out of discomfort. 

You looked at Felipe, he nodded again but it was short and encouraging, silently telling you it was okay to take the spotlight even though it was him who had won this race. 

You cleared your throat, thinking about what the PR team from McLaren told you. You’re focused on Prema. McLaren knows this. McLaren is supporting you while you finish your F2 season and by all means, shut down any topic regarding Daniel Ricciardo. 

“Really, I’m just focused on finishing the season off strong with Prema,” you told Richard, feeling your smile start to slip because how could you be excited over that or a trophy when you knew what he was thinking and what the whole world was thinking. 

You prayed he wouldn’t bring it up, but the media world was hell. 

“And Daniel’s departure-

Liam promptly lifted the mic to lips, cutting off Richard before he could finish that thought. “We’ll all miss her, I think that’s safe to say. But maybe it’ll be a bit easier for the rest of us to podium when she’s gone.”

Quiet laughter spread through the audience and you just turned to Liam and mouthed a quick ‘thank you’. He didn’t say anything back, just dropped his head to your shoulder for a second and smiled, playing up the whole we’ll miss her statement. It wasn’t an act, though. Most of the guys you raced with had stopped you at some point this morning sharing their congrats and giving you a hug, telling you that you deserved that spot in F1. 

Even Felipe said it and meant it, and he was on the fast track to win this year, also eyeing a spot in F1. You had a good support system in this series. 

He dropped his head to your other shoulder and your lips fell into a playful pout, raising your hands to the sides of both driver’s faces. It made a cute photo. The F1 social media team really played into the love you had from your competitors. 

You had a lot of support in the paddock, surprisingly, from other drivers. 

Mick found you before his own race started. He was your first teammate during your rookie season in F2, it only made sense he was the first current driver to congratulate you.  

“You deserve it,” Mick told you, arms tightly wrapped around your body as he gave you a comforting embrace that almost compared to the one you were craving from Daniel, but still something was missing. 

Mick’s contract was up at the end of 2022, and no one knew where he was going but he assured you that no matter what, he’d be on your side. 

You sort of interacted with Lando on Sunday after your feature race. When you passed him in the paddock, he held his hand out for a fist bump and gave you a wide smile. The cameras caught it, they caught everything apparently, and it was the first photo you saw on social media when you got to the airport late Sunday evening. 

First of many celebratory fist bumps, McLaren’s caption said. It was a nice photo, truly. 

Too bad the comments were anything but. 

Not McLaren hyping up the fact that Danny’s girlfriend is replacing himIsn’t she only fourth in the driver standings in F2 lol We don’t want her we want the honey badgerEven worse when you think about the fact that they are literally in a relationship and she’s taking his seatNo class from any of them

No one seemed to know that you and Daniel were done, but how would they know? Your relationship was private, your break up would be too. 

Your break up. 

And then it hit you. Right there in the airport. After the adrenaline of a podium had worn off. After the excitement of signing with a new team had passed. After you were finally left alone after being surrounded by your team and drivers and press all day, you broke down. 

It was embarrassing. The only saving grace was the fact that you were sat in the corner of the premium lounge, facing the windows, so at least no one could see you cry. You weren’t quiet though, you knew your faint sobs could be heard from anyone within a 3 metre radius.

And you knew how immature this was, crying in an airport. But when you felt things you felt them with every fibre in your being. You were overjoyed beyond words, shaking when you got first podium in F2, and then feeling that multiplied by fifty when you won in Monaco. 

You were madly in love with Daniel, despite only dating for a year. It wasn’t young love, puppy love, a whirlwind romance, or any of those sappy headlines. You were head over heels, ready to spend your life with the man who lifted you up above the rest of the world. Who not only put you on a pedestal, but made sure other people did too. He was always in your corner, even before you started dating. He loved you long before you even realised you could also love him. 

As an athlete, as a future world championship contender, as a friend, Daniel loved you. 

The day you knew you loved him, you knew you were screwed, you both talked about the risks. 

Fragile line, you called it, walking a tightrope, he joked. There was such a huge margin of error, so many things that could go wrong by falling in love with, not only a driver but the driver who mentored you. 

The media would turn against you. Sponsors would shake their heads. Your future could have been jeopardised. You’d be labelled as a poor role model for girls in motorsport. 

You walked a dangerous and delicate line with Daniel, but you didn’t think it would snap beneath your feet. You never thought you’d be the one to break it. 

So yes, you were full on sobbing in the airport as you waited to board your flight to Amsterdam. 

“Pretty sure podium winners aren’t usually this distraught.”

You heard the British accent and immediately sat up, wiping your eyes and sniffling to at least try and make it seem like you weren’t crying. You turned your head and watched as Lando sat down next to you on the dark blue chair, resting a leg over his knee. 

You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him, worrying that if you did try to talk, all that would come out would be more cries. 

Lando reached into the front pocket of his backpack and pulled out a travel size pack of tissues, tossing them to you without so much as a word. He waited a few minutes as you composed yourself, using some of the tissues and pocketing the rest for later. 

“You okay?” Lando asked, sounding concerned for your well being because he had a point, podium winners aren’t usually this distraught. 

“Am I okay?” You repeated back followed with a playful scoff. “Do I look okay?” 

“You look awful.”

“I feel awful.”

Lando nodded, clearly unsure what to do in this situation. His current teammate, his friend, was leaving at the end of this year and his new teammate, a girl he had barely had 5 conversations with, was having a breakdown in the airport. 

Lando, whether he liked it or not, knew he would be caught in the middle of whatever this mess was for the next few months or so. 

He knew you and Daniel were an item. Daniel told himself shortly after Silverstone, and only because Lando had asked, simply curious.

“You and Y/N,” he started off, hesitantly, seeing the two of you interact much more flirtatiously then you had before. “You two are..” he didn’t know how to word it. 

Daniel just winked, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

That pretty much confirmed it. And then when you started showing up in the back of the McLaren garage during race weekends, Lando sort of accepted it, quickly getting used to seeing you around. 

You were always friendly with each other, but your attention was always on Daniel, too. Lando saw the way you were quick to rush to his side after a difficult race. How you were the first one Daniel looked for when he stepped out of the car, eyes searching the sea of orange for you. Lando heard the way Daniel talked about you, the way he praised you, telling everyone who would listen that you deserved a spot in Formula 1. That man had a note saved on his phone of your stats, race wins, qualifying times, records broken, all of it. 

Daniel loved you. Everyone who knew him saw it, and Lando was no exception. 

So one could imagine the uncertainty he felt as he approached you in the airport. Surely you and Daniel weren’t together anymore, right? Or were you somehow going to work through this? Could you work through it? Taking his seat?

Lando, like everyone else, was dying to know. 

“Has he said anything?” You asked him before Lando had a chance to get a word out. That question alone confirmed that you and Daniel weren’t on speaking terms at least.

“About you?” Lando asked and when you nodded, he saw the devastation hit your eyes as he shook his head. “Honestly he wasn’t very talkative today, left right after the post race stuff.”

“How is he?” You then asked. “Has he- is there any word on him finding a seat next year?” You pulled your knees up to your chest, staring hopefully at the British driver. 

It pained Lando to shake his head again, “Not yet, but it’s still pretty early. I’m sure he’ll find a seat.”

You nodded, praying that Lando was right. When you dropped your chin to your knees, averting your eyes when you felt the tears well up again, Lando’s chest grew tight. He felt bad for you. This was a hard position for you to be in. 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Lando assured you. “Danny’s one of the best there is, but the results just aren’t there. Zak didn’t see any point in continuing if it’ll just end up being more of the same.”

Lando tried to be encouraging, really, and you were thankful for that, but he got the hint after a while that you just didn’t want to talk about it. Before leaving you alone, he gave you his number and told you that if you needed anything, to just reach out. 

You were always friendly with Lando, but that was the start to your friendship.

It was Lando who shared your picture when you claimed first place in Zandvoort, celebrating your success with a cheeky caption stating how he better see you bring the hot streak to McLaren next year. He was the one who interrupted your post-race interview in Monza, spotting you in the paddock being interviewed by Will Buxton. Lando, despite needing to follow his own pre-race schedule, came and draped an arm over your shoulder and playfully interrupted whatever Will was trying to say.

“Look at that,” Will laughed when you struggled to shake Lando’s arm off of you, “Future teammates. Lando, how excited are you to be working with this incredible talent next year?”

“Oh extremely excited,” Lando answered, leaning into the mic gripped between your fingers. “She won’t be able to keep up with me though.”

And that it was it. He ruffled his hand through your hair and took off again.

He checked in on you between races, whenever a new headline was trending, whenever someone from social media had the audacity to compare yours and Daniels stats and pin you against each other as if there wasn’t already enough you were struggling with.

Lando didn’t want you to come into the new season already feeling defeated. He was still friends with Daniel, he always would be, but he had a kind heart. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t on anyones ‘side’, but more importantly, he saw you as a driver, as his next teammate. He didn’t see you as Daniel’s ex who was now stealing his seat like half of the world did.

It was also his car that you drove during the practice sessions in Austin and Abu Dhabi. Lando happily stepped aside for you, giving you a supportive pat on the back and strategically blocking your line of sight towards Daniel as he got ready for his sessions as well.

You still hadn’t spoken. You hadn’t even looked at each other. You tried, honestly, to catch his eye but he refused to even glance your way. He was in and out of that car so quick, finding any excuse to leave the garage while you were there.

It hurt. You knew his mind was made up. He was upset, he was hurt, he wanted nothing to do with you and seeing you in his garage sent him spiralling.

All you saw was Daniel turning his back on you, but what you didn’t know was this situation was giving Daniel constant headaches. He couldn’t look at you, the girl he loved, and watch you climb into the McLaren knowing that you’d be doing that throughout the entire next season and he wouldn’t.

All he ever wanted was to see you in a Formula 1 car, but not like this. 

You stood in Lando’s side of the garage during the last race. You wore your McLaren jacket, you had the orange headphones on as stared up at the screen. Your back was towards Daniel’s car, so you missed the way he did actually look at you. It pained him to see how well you blended in with the team, his team. He almost told himself it looked like you belonged there, but he quickly put his helmet on and climbed into his car, gearing up for the race.

He finished 9th. Lando finished 6th. And with that, the season ended.

Daniel was done.

You watched him celebrate with those closest to him. You stood off to the side and thought about how if things were different, you’d be clinging to him, sweaty race suit and all, waiting to congratulate him in your own way back at the hotel. You would tell him you loved him, that he didn’t need McLaren. You’d joke and say that you two could form your own team, because that’s what you should have been till the end, a team. 

But that wasn’t the case anymore. McLaren was your team now.

It was only a matter of days until Daniel spoke to the media about his departure. 

“I can’t speak ill of her,” Daniel said, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. He knew that coming on this podcast that he’d be asked about you and your contract. He was advised against it but the second his working relationship ended with McLaren, he agreed to talk, to share his side.

“But she’s the one who took your seat,” Jaycee so politely pointed out. “As happy as I am to see a female in Formula 1, it’s bittersweet knowing a driver such as yourself is left without a spot.”

Daniel sighed into the mic in front of him, “McLaren handed her her dream on a papaya platter and she grabbed it. I think a lot of drivers would do the same in that scenario.”

“But it stings a little more, doesn’t it?” Greyson, her co-host asked. “Because you two were-

“Friends, yeah,” Daniel interrupted. “Yeah we were close.”

“You mentored her,” Greyson pushed for more of an admittance as to what their relationship was. “You were seen with her and the Prema team during a handful of weekends. She even said you were her mentor.”

Daniel naturally hesitated, “I saw her potential early on and I wanted to help her grow. I really did want to see her in Formula 1, despite what anyone says about the situation she’s an incredible driver.”

“Everyone who follows Formula 1 knows you have a strong connection,” Jaycee said, subtly trying to pry for more as well. “After her Silverstone crash in 2021 you were in her garage. And then you were seen in Monaco together a few weeks later. You two weren’t just friends in the paddock, you worked closely together outside of race weekends too-

“Did your girlfriend take your seat or not?” Greyson blurted out, earning a glare from Jaycee on his left, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He wanted to know, the whole world wanted to know what was going on between you and Daniel now that you were signed for McLaren. 

And you had to give props to Daniel, he played it off about as smoothly as he could. 

“McLaren sees more potential in her than me,” he said, still smiling because that’s who he was. A people pleaser, always grinning, always a breath of fresh air. “If they can give her what they promised me, then that’s good for all of them. Do I like how the situation went down? No, but that’s the reality of Formula 1. You’re not safe unless you’re winning and I wasn’t winning.”

“And your relationship-

“She doesn’t need a mentor anymore, does she?” Daniel asked, disregarding any ideas of the two of you dating. “She made it to Formula 1. That was what she wanted. I wish her well.” 

That was the closest thing to confirmation of your break up that anyone would get. 

And the interview ended shortly after that, doing wonders on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. You listened to it also, just waiting for Daniel to say something horrible but of course he didn’t. That wasn’t him. He was the good guy. He was the hero. He got you to Formula 1 and was holding his head up high, wishing you well and thanking McLaren for the last 2 years. 

You wished it ended there, the conversations surrounding you. It should have ended there. 

But fast forward to the awards dinner at the end of the year, just shortly after the last race of the season. 

You sat with your mum at a round table with Felipe and his partner and few other people involved in Formula 2. 

You had finished second in the standings, not first like you had dreamt of, but Felipe told you that first place in the championship would come in F1, don’t worry. 

And you weren’t sure who had made the seating chart, but from where you sat, you could easily see Daniel at his table, only a few metres away from your own. He sat with some of his friends and some people from his personal team. He was also purposely avoiding looking in your direction, knowing that if he did, he’d be making eye contact for the first time in months. 

He’d see your stunning features and bright eyes standing out among the rest. He’d see the low cut, thinly strapped black dress, showing off the collarbones he used to mark with his lips, the trail between your breast and down to your navel that he used to make with his tongue. If he looked at you, he’d think of all the ways the night would have ended if things were different. 

If he looked at you, he’d be reminded that the girl he loved was the one who broke him. He’d be reminded that as hurt as he was by your actions, by taking his seat, he couldn’t forget the memories you made, the moments he shared, the way he used to admire you. 

He didn’t love you anymore, though. He couldn’t. He forced those feelings out, replacing them with regret for ever deciding to help you because if he hadn't helped you, it wouldn’t have been you that took his seat. 

So Daniel looked at the stage, his friends, his food. He didn’t look at you. 

He didn’t even look at you when you walked up to collect your trophy, choosing that moment to be the perfect time to walk up to the open bar. He ordered a few more drinks and a shot on a whim, downing it back before walking to the table, 2 freshly poured glasses of rum and cokes in hand. 

Daniel got drunk that night. He didn’t mean to, but it helped him deal with all he had going on. It was a good way to end the 2022 season, to put it behind him. You, McLaren, all of it. 

Someone should have stopped him when he noticed you about to leave at the end of the night, a white coat draped over your shoulders. That should be my blazer, Daniel thought, thinking of the countless nights he had given you his jacket for warmth. 

You were in the middle of a conversation with someone from Prema when you felt a tug in your arm. When you looked up and saw it was Daniel who was pulling you off to the side, your heart sank. There were no butterflies anymore, just a lot of anxiety and guilt eating you from the inside. 

You could tell he hadn’t thought through what he was going to say. For a split second, his gaze was soft, almost like he thought about congratulating you for a successful season. For a moment, proud Daniel was back and for a moment, you got your hopes up. Maybe this line you broke could be fixed.

It was a bad sign when his eyes grew cold, features hardening along with them. This man, who was all you wanted, stared at you like you were a stranger, and maybe you were now. 

He opened his mouth and the room around you fell dark and quiet. It was your mind playing horrible tricks on you, putting a spotlight in this moment in time so it would haunt your memories after tonight. You knew the earth was still spinning, that people around you were still moving, but you couldn’t trust anything, frozen in this space with Daniel. 

“I hope you’re happy,” Daniel spoke softly, but his words cut through you like a knife. If someone told you that your heart was bleeding, you’d believe it. That’s certainly what it felt like.

He didn’t want you to be happy. He didn’t want you taking his seat. He didn’t want to see you live out his dream. He put on a beautiful charade for the press, but deep down you knew, he saw you as nothing more but a mistake. He no longer wanted you to succeed, despite telling the world he wished you would. 

"Daniel-"

You automatically reached for him and he flinched backwards. It hurt, seeing him react how he was. He didn’t want you touching him, he just wanted to get one more word in, wanted you to know that he was still bitter and would be for a while. 

You stood there and watched him walk away, haunted by the pain and broken trust in his eyes, a look that would become burned into your mind during your restless sleeps. 

And then there was the week where you just didn’t sleep. The week after Daniel’s contract with Red Bull was announced. 

He wasn’t driving with them, but he wasn’t leaving Formula 1 either. 

He’d still be around the paddock during selective race weekends. He’d be there, putting on a show for the fans because everyone loved him. Everyone wanted him on the grid, and if he couldn’t race, at least he was still there in the garage as a reserve driver. 

The same excitement couldn’t be said for you. 

Despite forming a close bond with Lando really early into the pre-season, it helped that he was only two years younger than you, you were not met with open arms and loud cheers. 

You had some supporters, a lot actually, but nothing compared to Daniel’s fans. You were pulled alert and critiqued for every move you made. You could understand the questions that circulated when you didn’t even finish the first race in Bahrain, retiring early because of an engine problem. Did Zak really make the right move by replacing Daniel with you? What could you bring to the team if this was how you started the season?

But it was the talk about what you did off the track that really got to you. You didn’t care if people weren’t a fan of your driving, you knew F1 fans had their favourites and you knew you weren’t everyone’s. 

However social media had a way of spinning everything. You lost count of the ridiculous rumours. Apparently, you were now replacing Daniel with Lando because that playful interview you did talking about red flags in relationships really gave away the fact you were sleeping together. 

Oh you were also sleeping with Mick Schumacher, because you had a thing for reserve drivers, it seemed. And the way he found you after your second race without points again in Saudi Arabia made it so obvious that you were with him. 

And you couldn’t forget about how big of a bitch you were, choosing to not acknowledge Daniel in Australia when you walked past him in the paddock. It was his home race, he was the reason you were even racing, and you couldn’t even stop and give him a smile? 

These rumours were truly getting annoying.

Of course, you couldn’t come out and tell people that Lando was seeing someone because it was so new and private and not your story to tell. No one cared that Mick was your teammate at Prema in 2020 and you guys had always been friends. No one would believe you if you said that you didn’t even see Daniel in the paddock, being too engrossed in your conversation to notice that the Australian was walking past. 

You grew to hate seeing him during race weekends. 

It was a constant reminder of what could have been. 

What if you had waited a year and signed with McLaren then? Would Daniel still hold this hatred towards you if his contract played out like it was supposed to? 

What if you signed with a different team like Williams instead, and someone else replaced Daniel? If Oscar Piastri had taken his spot, would Daniel be this resentful still to see you driving? Or would he happily walk by your side in the paddock, him in Red Bull polo, you in your Williams racing suit? Would he have accompanied you during the race weekends when he didn’t have Red Bull duties?

Was there ever a scenario where he stood in your garage and watched you race? Cheering you on, despite what place you finished? Despite where he was in his own career?

Or was that just a far fetched dream? 

Because let’s face it, if Daniel was still racing this year, it would be hard to support you and focus on his own season. How could he be happy if he DNF’d and you finished in the points? How could you be happy if the media would say that you were only using Daniel to get ahead? 

If you had signed for Williams and Daniel was still replaced, it would be difficult for him to watch you race, to watch you do what he loved. How could he be in your corner when he no longer had a corner of his own to stand in? 

Maybe you were doomed from the start. Fragile line, you said. How true that was. It was always going to snap.

You heard through the grapevine that Daniel had said you taking his seat before his contract was even up was the worst thing you could have possibly done. 

Was that in regards to McLaren? To your relationship? From a sportsmanship standpoint? You had no idea. You just knew Daniel wasn’t impressed that you were racing and he wasn’t.  

You hated seeing him during the few races he attended. You were petrified to run into him in the paddock, in the pit lane, in the hotel for christ sakes, you didn’t want to see him. At one point, you were desperate for even just a smidge of attention from him and now you felt sick whenever you heard he would be in attendance.

You went five races in a row without scoring any points. You could practically hear Daniel’s smug expression when you crossed the finish line each time. He was probably eating this up, knowing you were the one struggling now. 

The only difference was, you didn’t have him to turn to after a shitty run in the McLaren. 

Lando tried to be helpful, but he was struggling too. People called the car a tractor and honestly, so did you and Lando in private. You had a group chat with your personal trainers and the four of you called yourselves the farmers. The jokes made and lighthearted conversations shared were the only silver linings during this depressing start of a season.

Monaco was better, sort of. 

You finished 10th, so at least that was a point under your belt. 

But Daniel was everywhere. 

He loved Monaco, he lived in Monaco, of course it was no surprise he was there that weekend.

You found yourself jogging past his flat the Thursday before the race, and you didn’t do it on purpose but it was the same route you had taken all of those times you had spent days on end at Daniel’s. Sometime he joined you for those morning runs, sometime you’d return and he was making breakfast.

But you came to a stop on the opposite side of the street and stared up at it, recognising his balcony instantly. You saw the plant in the corner that you had given him a few months into your relationship and despite him claiming he wasn’t a plant guy, he managed to keep it alive.

Your heart felt heavy. All you wanted was to knock on his door and be welcomed in with wide arms and that stupid smile of his. You wanted to not feel anxious when you saw him in the paddock. You wanted to not be holding your breath every time you got out of the racecar, wondering what Daniel thought of your run. 

You were simultaneously on edge at all moments while also still dying to make him proud. You didn’t think that would ever go away.

Even during the weekends he wasn’t there, you were looking over your shoulder constantly. Even if you knew that he was on the other side of the world, he was still on your mind. He haunted your thoughts from the moment you walked into the garage to when you got out of the car at the end of the race weekend.

Lando called you out on it that Thursday in Silverstone.

“You’re in your head,” he told you, seeing how your main focus wasn’t racing, it was Daniel. You were unsure what he was referring to though and Lando just rolled his eyes, “Well actually, Daniel’s in your head. And he’s keeping you from being the driver I know you can be.”

That was all he said on the topic. 

And he was right.

You were so worried about Daniel. About what he would think of your races. About trying to avoid him during the weekends he was there. About still trying to make him proud but not too proud where he resented you more for taking his seat. About the hundreds of scenarios that could have happened if you had made a different choice.

Because of all of these thoughts, that seat at McLaren was still very much Daniel’s. You allowed it to be.

You needed to stop telling yourself you took his seat because that’s what it would always be then, his seat. Lando stood up, patting your knee after dropping those few words and you decided right then and there that it was your seat. 

You wouldn’t let Daniel haunt you anymore. 

And qualifying was where this new mentality really showed. 

You were buzzing with energy when your engineer told you that you had gotten P3 and were starting on the second row for tomorrows race. You climbed out of the car in parc ferme and ran directly to Lando. He hugged you, he was proud of you. 

“That’s the driver we all know,” Lando said when he pulled his helmet off. His hand was on your shoulder, both of you were wearing identical smiles of pure joy. “Where the hell has she been all this time?”

You didn’t even have an answer, too excited about what this meant for you, for the team. You post-quali interviews went by in a blur, your hands were shaking the entire time. You blacked out during it, still trying to process the fact that you had finished third in qualifying, but you did remember Lando reaching over at one point and dropping his hand to your knee. It was polite, it didn’t mean anything more than a playful stop shaking you’re making us all look bad, but god did the media run with it. 

You didn’t let anything on social media get to you, telling yourself that you had to stay focused for the race. In fact you even gave your phone to your trainer, Oliver, asking him to take it for the night and to just wake you up in the morning.

And Oliver was a good trainer, he had also become a good friend since you joined McLaren so you trusted him with your phone. 

Which meant he knew your password. 

So when he saw your phone light up that night with a text from Daniel, Oliver panicked. He knew the right thing to do would be to just leave it alone, you’d see it in the morning. You’d see the message. The short but seemingly sweet;

P3, nice job

But a text like that would send you spiralling and you didn't need that before one of the most important races of the season for you, Oliver knew this. He knew you were supposed to be getting over Daniel, he knew how much the Australian just being in the paddock messed with your mind. He knew you had to focus on racing.

There was so much uncertainty with the text. Was this him extending an olive branch? Was he genuine, or was this supposed to be taken with a bit of salt? Oliver could read it both ways. Either Daniel was truly happy for you, or this could be dripping with sarcasm. P3, sure, but remember who’s seat you’re in.

Oliver decided to delete the text. There was no trace of it when he handed the phone back to you the next day. 

Maybe that was for the best, no one knew. 

All you knew was you were starting third today.

All Daniel knew was you had ignored him, and now you were walking right past him down the paddock, side by side with Lando as you talked about today’s race. Daniel turned his head and saw the two of you, drawing his own conclusions. 

Whatever was going through his mind, one thing seemed certain. You didn’t need him anymore. You had the seat, the team, someone new supporting you, why would you still need Daniel?

You went about your day, the same pre-race rituals. Lando checked in more than normal, it was an exciting day for both of you, but he knew he was also a good distraction to keep your mind off of Daniel, he knew you would be struggling to keep from thinking about him. 

“It’s you and me,” Lando told you right before the race. “It’s our day, yeah? We’ve got this.”

Lando was in your corner. You were in his. 

Which meant you were there to celebrate after the race when he took home second place. You had claimed fourth, which was also something to be proud of, and you were, but you were also craving that podium. You could almost taste it, it was so close. 

“Next time,” Lando assured you, having full confidence that you’d be holding the trophy at the following race. He handed you a bottle of champagne, telling you to drink up and enjoy and for once, you did. 

You were happy. You finally felt like you could accomplish something amazing at McLaren, despite the horrible start. Lando had gotten a podium, yours was coming, you could feel it. 

You didn’t think about Daniel at all that night. It was the first night in a long time where you didn’t see his face when you closed your eyes. 

And you would have loved to keep celebrating after that night, to keep the high of Lando's podium and your 4th place finish last until the next race, but all good things must come to an end. 

You stood in front of Lando now, unsure how to take the news about Daniels’ return. Were you allowed to be happy for him? Of course you wanted to see him in a seat, this was the ideal situation, both of you driving this season. What would this mean for the two of you moving forward?

But he had done the exact same thing you had done by replacing a driver before their contract was up.

Daniel made you feel awful about that decision and now here he was, making the exact same one. He was no better than you. He was no hero, he wasn’t the good guy. He was a driver, desperate for a seat, as were you. As was every single person wanting to race in this series. 

You were on the same playing field now.

He was going to be at every single race for the rest of the season, as a competitor on the grid. Something you once dreamt of, both of you dreamt of, was finally coming true. 

But that’s all he would be. A competitor. Another driver. Another car to overtake. You always thought that when this moment came, you’d still be a team when you left the track at the end of the day and that just wasn’t the reality you found yourself in. 

“He’s back,” Lando said, hands shoved in his pockets trying to gauge your reaction. 

Daniel was returning to Formula 1, but you knew he was never actually gone in the first place.

He was in your thoughts, your dreams, your memories, he was everywhere all of the time. Even when you crossed the finish line in Silverstone, there was still a part of you that was wondering if Daniel was watching. As much as you tried to avoid him, your eyes still scanned every single crowd for him.

And now you didn’t need to look anymore. 

part 3 gone

----

taglist: @yunnie-f1 @torossosebs @whatthefuckerr @jspitwall @oconso @tsarinablogs @landowecanbewc @somanyfandomsbruh @christianpulisic10 @storminacloud @sunnytkm23 @formula1mount @azxulaa @icarus-nex @spideyspeaches if i forgot someone im so sorry

[stitchau]

————————《《FAQ》》————————

This post will be updated over time.

Main artist account: @centfornothing (both tumblr and twitter)

— Usage of Stitch/Fanart

1. Q: Can I create fanart of Stitch?

A: Yes, I'd be more than happy if you do! ^^

Also, do not be shy to tag me! I will, from time to time, check if i was tagged somewhere.

2. Q: Can I use your character in my comic/animation/fanfiction?

A: Yep! I don't see why not.

3. Q: Can I ship *insert character name here* with Stitch?

A: Sure, have fun! But I sure do hope that the character in question is not a child. I am strongly against it.

4. Q: Can I create NSFW🔞 content of Stitch?

A: Yes, unless it involves children/incest. Do not draw stuff like that.

— NOT ALLOWED

I'm being repetitive here, but whatever. These are the only things I don't want people to do with my character, and I hope you understand why.

DO NOT create content depicting Stitch engaging with children in sexual manner.

DO NOT create content depicting Stitch endorsing incest/racism/f*cism/n*zism or anything similar to that.

As advice, I'd kindly ask you not to create stuff like this at all. Please be a better person and be responsible with what you create and put out there on the internet.

— About asks

Questions that I have already answered won't get a reply.

Not all the questions will get their answers. Either because it's not the time for the answer yet or because it's irrelevant/not a question at all.

If there's too many questions, yours might be missed/might get a late reply(currently i have 70+ questions, no joke, and i just cant answer all of them, especially when there's more of them every day). But don't be shy asking questions anyway!

Other reasons for your questions not getting an answer:

I might be busy because I also have to live a life.

If your question is something like "I love your au sm," then thank you. I really appreciate your kind words, you are making my day💞

I might not want to answer your question for reasons. (Provocative questions, personal questions, etc)

If you are asking something related to YOUR OWN mental health. Please, PLEASE, if you have real problems, do not try to find a solution for them from internet strangers, go and talk to a real, qualified professional.

Please do not vent to me, I am not qualified to offer you help. I wish you the best, please stay safe.

And just a separate point about roleplays. Sorry, but I don't really do them. I can play along to something unserious and small, but whole roleplays are not for me.

— About Stitch

Stitch uses any pronouns, but they/them is a preferred one.

They are aroace.

The place they live in is called "Treatment space"(the info on what it is will be elaborated on sometime later). It is accessible for anyone in Omega Timeline at any given point through a door. But it can also be accessed from anywhere if you have one of 2 special keys: small red key that will create a door for 1 person leading to the Treatment Space or the bigger dark red key that will create a much bigger door, also leading to the Treatment Space(backyard). Keys can be mostly found in Omega Timeline, but some are scattered throughout the Multiverse.

They mimic the voice according to the form they have at the moment. So Sans' voice for a form of Sans, etc.

For all the different parts of plush bodies and clothes, there is a separate big room in Treatment Space.

Stitch doesn't need to sleep, eat, or drink.

Their most preferred forms are Toriel(convenience) and Sans(frequency of use).

The forms they don't like to use the most are the ones that are small(like Temmie, annoying dog, Flowey, etc.)

— The Lore(WIP)

Prologue

Chapter 1: Lucky streak — part 1

More info will be added

[loupy-mongoose]

I wish my art motivation and my "want-to-move-the-story-along" motivation would get along, lol.

There's so much I rather would've drawn for this, but my brain is still in the Hisui rot. So, I'll have to make due.

Speech guide:

Randy's speech Jamie's speech (Pokespeak in parentheses) ~~Telepathy is in... these things... Whatever they're called. XD~~

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~~~~~~

The group spread out among the foliage, keeping their eyes keen and calling out Midas' name.

As they searched, Akoya sent her husband a private vent.

~~Rrrrrrrrrgggghhh! ~~ ~~Why'd she have to come with us?!~~ ~~We'll find him fine on our own, then get right back to her. She doesn't need to babysit us! What threat do we pose anyway??~~

Randy struggled to suppress a sigh. ~~I know, Hon. But we really shouldn't do anything to upset her. We're on her turf right now, and she seems to be a high authority on it.~~

~~Huh. Well I'll be happy to be done with this and back home safely in Paldea.~~

~~I know. Believe me, I know. But let's just focus on one thing at a time, okay? Right now we need to make our way to Midas without her figuring out we can feel him.~~

Randy felt a stab of regret from her direction, and glance at her to see her giving him a remorseful look.

~~...I'm sorry.~~

Randy struggled to hide shock from Jamie.

~~For what?~~

~~For being difficult...~~ ~~Thank you for being patient with me, and... all this...~~

Seeing that Jamie was searching facing away from them, he met his wife's eyes and gave her a warm smile.

~~Of course, Akoya!~~ ~~I look forward to having Midas back and getting a chance to really talk in private.~~

Akoya sighed lightly.

~~Me too...~~

Midaaaas!

The pink-and-blue Mew perked up his ears, his tear-stained eyes opening wide.

(Mamah?)

His companion, a fluffy pink and russet Mew, also looked toward the calling voice. A purr was rattling from her in an attempt to calm the poor child she'd come across and curled around reassuringly.

Suddenly the young Mew bolted, startling his companion into silence.

(MAMAH!)

Midas slammed into his mother's chest. His voice came out as a whimper.

(Mamah...)

After a brief shock, Akoya smiled and hugged the little Mew close under her chin, and her eyes welled with tears. Midas... Oh thank Arceus...

Midas' fluffy companion flew up and nuzzled Jamie's head. Before Randy could comment on her, the girl gave her a startled look, but quickly recomposed herself.

(Hey, Jamie! Good to see you!)

It's good to see you too! But... a little surprising. Randy caught the quickest dart of her eyes in their direction. Clearly she was implying something, but what that was, he had no idea.

The stranger Mew smiled at the three newcomers. There was an... odd gleam in her eyes, but she turned back to Jamie, not giving any chance to ponder it.

Randy and Akoya exchanged glances. There was no avoiding it this time. She'd caught them all red-handed.

The man sighed. Yes, we all understand it.

Akoya's face turned serious, although she couldn't hide the shock she'd received. How did you know?

Educated guess. You reacted when Clover mentioned the bag. The red-haired girl met Akoya's eyes, but she appeared neutral, rather than hostile. Randy noticed that that subtle curiosity had returned.

Beside him, he saw his wife shudder. ...I don't like how sharp you are...

Much to Randy's surprise, Jamie gave a regretful smile. Force of habit. She took a snappy breath, as if to recenter herself, and straightened her postured. Shall we move on to the house?

The three Lindens looked at each other and nodded, and they set off again. But before they went far, Jamie turned to look at Akoya once more.

...So, did Midas call you "Mama"?

Feeling a wave of exasperation from Akoya, Randy answered for her, desperate to escape this weird dance of secrets they'd ended up in. We'll explain later. Can we just get somewhere where we can breathe?

The group continued on as the sun began to sink. Jamie's fluffy Mew buddy, Pari, floated leisurely around them, sometimes humming happily, sometimes picking up a chat with Jamie. Sometimes they would pass folks on the road, and Pari would wave cheerfully or let them pet her as she purred.

Randy realized then what Jamie had meant about this being a safe place for Midas to be lost at. Clearly the locals were used to having a Mew around--or two, if Jovie was as friendly and close to the people as Pari. Some Pokemon that roamed close by would come greet Jamie warmly, happy to see her back after her time away. And Randy caught glimpses of a deep, genuine smile on her face as she talked with them

He sighed, wishing things could be straight-forward, and hoped the two parties could soon find a comfortable middle ground.

He felt a gentle hand take his own, and looked over at his wife, unable to resist a soft smile as he met her eyes. Her other arm was tucked into her jacket to support Midas, who had refused to go back into the bag and was now hidden in there. Randy had taken possession of the bag.

He looked to his other side at Lav, who seemed as drained as he was. She'd been very quiet since they arrived, and he longed to pick her brain. But now wasn't the time. He felt a pang of guilt that she'd been so sidelined by all this.

He placed his hand on her far shoulder, looking for a cue that a hug would be okay. She turned up to him with tired eyes, giving a half-hearted smile and leaning into him. He tightened his grip around her.

As they walked, seeing their escort and new Mew companion at ease with the residents, his children safe in their arms and his wife and best friend by his side... he felt a deep peace settle in him.

Once they could get all the secrets and misunderstandings out of the way...

It wouldn't be so bad here.

~~~~~~

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[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Hi? Gosh how do I even start with this :'D

I know it's been ages since I've last popped up on here. I've been debating when to post this for a while, but I kept adding to my draft more and more and now it's the end of JULY omgg I felt so guilty disappearing with zero updates but then thought my birthday would be the best day to finally address this considering it'll feel less random? idk but Ive always celebrated my bday with you guys and I'd feel so bad answering your kind asks without me at least explaining why I was gone for months.

Truth be told, I was dealing with a lot of stuff irl. health issues and sudden declining grades that left me stumped and drained for months now- along with technical issues like having to replace some parts of my computer that took a while for me to find to even draw digitally, which I didn't have the time for anyway with how tired and weary I felt every day.

I'm frankly shaken up by a lot of shit rn and I don't know how to be active online with this burden on my chest- Especially as it's been a while since I've even looked at utmv related content and my motivation dwindled. I swear I'd hype myself up to post or reblog something- but I'd see just how much I've missed or the overwhelming amount of posts I'd need to go through and I'd feel so swamped with exhaustion and most importantly guilt, for not clearing the air up sooner to reassure you guys that I'm, y'know, alive, and not dead in a ditch somewhere. And I'd procrastinate cause typing it all out is hard and I'd give up halfway every time and it's just not fair to you all!

I thought I was handling it well when I started going out and socializing more, instead of staying cooped up at home on my computer all day. and in the first draft of this post I made months ago I was gonna detail some of the fun plans I had, for my life and for this blog :D but relaxing my strict study schedule and letting go a bit of my tight routine, thinking it was better than wringing myself dry to keep it up, backfired horribly, to say the least.

I know right?? so silly to be hung up on stupid shit like studies of all things! but this is a very important thing for me considering my career plans and the competitivity encouraged by everyone I'm surrounded by, the pressure of keeping up adding to my already stressful days. I had to fix myself up first and I couldn't handle the strain nor interact with people and thinking of jobs and exams sapped my energy so much it's frankly embarrassing. writing this feels so cheesy too and it frustrates me to know I could've come back a month earlier if it weren't for that, but I also know putting all of this into words then would just sound like incoherent venting (not that this is very different tbf) and I wasn't in the right headspace to address my absence, or anything really- I didn't want everyone to see me return when I couldn't muster up a genuinely positive message, let alone talk to anyone with a shadow of my usual cheer

I feel like a complete mess and It drives me up the wall how depressed I've gotten. I debated deleting this blog so many times 'cause the fear of disappointing my audience and my friends, for lack of a more fitting sentiment, made me feel even shittier. I'm constantly thinking if this wall of text is worth posting, or if it's better not to burden you all with all my sappy troubles as if it's the end of the world. Trust me, I'll be fine. I'm not trying to dramatize this situation, but I don't think I'm up to pretending I'm all sunshine and enthusiasm you're all accustomed to.

So sorry for worrying you all! I'll try to catch up, deliver some missed birthday gifts, and answer some asks while I'm at it! Again, I can't state how much I appreciate your support throughout the years. It's frankly a miracle I kept any of you around with how much I keep popping and leaving at random with no warning. I definitely can't promise for my stay to be without a hitch, and if you don't mind an inconsistent schedule you're free to stay of course, but I'm afraid I can't sustain the pace I had when I first started this blog. I'll keep posting art, but lower my activity in the fandom sphere to reduce the strain on my mental health. so fewer rants and walls of text, more art, and less stress overall. Love you all and thanks for waiting for this long <3

[mycenalucentipes]

Rekindle My Flames || Diluc x gn!reader

HI SO I also write Genshin :'D, figured I might post it here too. This is crossposted from ao3. Except thered, I'm for some reason mycenaLucentipes. So I'll probably change my name here to reflect that beceauseee mushrooms, anywayS =============================================

Summary: You’re depressed, but up until this one night, you had been amazing at masking and hiding it away. Diluc stumbles in on your dying flame and wants to help relight it.

All the passion for life is gone, minus your love for Diluc? The depression just…its a cloud of sadness that’s hard to escape

Just a short venting one-shot :’)

TW: Angst, depression, low will to live / implied suicidal thoughts, crying, cursing, generally sad depressing theme, but there is comfort ending : )

Word count: 1,966

a/n: I think I made it entirely gn this time. I hope so. I'm sorry if I messed up somewhere or if Diluc is ooc. But i feel like if he really loved someone romantically, I think he would be sweet and bashful and caring towards them.

Diluc was mad. 

Diluc was mad at himself.

How had he not noticed earlier? He could he not notice the love of his life suffering silently with so much pain?

His love shouldn’t need to bear that much pain in their heart. They didn’t deserve that, no. 

They deserved the shining stars, the flowing rivers, the ripest of all fruits, the whole universe. They deserved it all.

You were his star that guided him through the lonely world he created for himself. You were his everything. He swore his love for yet set his flames to blaze even brighter and more powerful than before. 

You are his everything. 

So how could he not notice?

Just a couple days ago, you casually strolled in Angel’s Share at 20:00 with the traveler and Paimon, humming your favorite song. No more than 15 minutes later came Kaeya and Venti stumbling towards the bar where you and travel sat. The atmosphere was a lively one that night. 

Upon your arrival, Diluc’s gaze followed you with gentle, tender eyes for his love. He began mixing your favorite drink before you even had to open your mouth. Once he finished yours and carefully slid it in front of you, he began mixing a cocktail up for the traveler. Although a bit wary of serving them alcohol, you assured him more than a dozen times that they were well over the age to start drinking. 

Your eyes lit up as you felt the cool drink glide down your throat. “Diluc, sweetflower! This is amazing! Whatever you’ve mixed into here, is really hitting the spot,” you cheered, holding your glass up with a large grin adorning your face. It was fruity, with a hint of mint among the blend. Diluc knew just how you liked it. He offered a soft small back as he tried not to blush at the compliment and the nickname. Oftentimes, you would give him random, sweet nicknames. 

As the night went on, he carefully observed you, happily singing and cheering along to whatever the drunken bard was playing. You, Kaeya, and Traveler had wrapped an arm around each other, swaying back and forth with a drink in hand. 

Looks can be deceiving. Didn’t anyone ever tell him that?

Every once in a while, he noticed your features go blank. Void of all emotion. Stuck in between a drunk Kaeya and tipsy traveler, your movements were lifeless, but your body still swayed with the other companions’ arms wrapped around your shoulders, and yours on theirs. 

“Dearest, are you alright? You look like a puppet hanging from our arms,” Kaeya would slur out when he noticed the weight on his shoulder increase. You would always snap back into reality with a smile and nod your head. It was enough to fool him. Surely if he wasn’t drunk, he might have noticed how your smile never met your eyes. 

Every once in a while, he noticed your entire demeanor go quiet. Spaced out and dissociated from reality. He wondered if you were okay, but didn’t know how to ask or he would be swept away by another customer.

From other previous times, he would notice a far off look in your features, empty eyes void of life. You always brushed it off as just being “tired”. He didn’t want to pry. 

Diluc was always a stoic man and didn’t appreciate others prying into his mind, so he was hesitant to prod you for more.  He was still learning to accept the help and comfort you so warmingly gave. For not being a pyro wielder, he swore that your soul was warmer than his would ever be. 

Until that one night. That one night where he found you. He’s thankful it wasn’t life threatening. But archons, his mind raced with all of the worst scenarios that could come. 

Diluc stirred in his sleep, wearily reaching out for your warmth that was no longer beside him. It was about 3 in the morning by now. Not finding you next him, Diluc was more alert now. He quickly sat up, breathing turning short as he frantically looked around the bedroom. There was no trace of you.

It was 00:00 when Diluc finally came to bed. Then it was 01:00 when you carefully slipped out from his embrace and softly headed for the door, heading for the city. 

Where had you gone? Diluc was sure that you were in bed when he climbed in next to you, pulling your body close to his. He remembered as he mumbled weary apologies and sweet nothings as he drifted off to sleep, feeling safe with you by his side. 

Diluc quickly changed out of his sleepwear and rushed out the door and down the stairs of the mansion. He called your name out, worry laced into his voice. When you were nowhere to be found within the confines of the mansion, Diluc grabbed his coat, deciding to head into the walls of Mondstadt. He knew you had an art studio there with a small shop on the main level. 

As he neared your shop, he could see a faint light flickering from the second floor. There you were. Why were you here at this hour? Diluc timidly wrapped his fingers around the door knob, testing if it would turn. Finding it to be unlocked, he gently opened the door and stepped in. Once he closed the door, he froze.

It was eerily quiet.

He could only hear the blood rushing through his ears and his heart pounding erratically in his chest. Not wasting another second, Diluc ran up the stairs, skipping one in a panic to reach you. As he neared your studio door, he froze once again in hesitation to open the door. What would he find on the other side? Why did he hesitate to open the door? 

In his moment of hesitancy, he heard small whimpers and light sniffles. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You were still alive. Diluc swung the door open, gaze darting directly to you. 

His heart shattered when his eyes landed on you. You looked so small and broken, huddled into yourself, tears streaming down your face. Diluc slowly made his way over to you, nearly tripping over debris. Wait, debris? 

He carefully scanned over the room as he continued his walk towards you. Those few steps it took to get to you felt like he was in a nightmare and couldn’t reach what he was looking for in time. He felt as if he was trudging through slimes. 

Paint cans were discarded around the floor with color pooling out from them, vibrant hues of paint coated the floor, shards of canvas framing were split and splintered into piles. Some of your unfinished works were cruelly sliced through the center while others were haphazardly slashed. 

Once he finally made it over to you, Diluc sank down to the floor beside you, enveloping you into his strong arms. In his embrace, it felt as though the fiery essence of his pyro vision wrapped you in a cocoon of warmth and protection. 

“My love,” Diluc’s deep voice pierced the heavy silence, a gentle murmur barely above a whisper, “if you would like, you are free to share your troubles with me, I’m here for you.” His tender words only seemed to unravel you further. You choked back a sob, trying to form words. It’s been a long time since you’ve been met with such sincerity and caring from someone. Asyou struggled, Diluc soothingly rubbed circles into your back. 

“You don’t have to tell me right away, love, I’m not going anywhere,” He whispered sweetly with his low voice. This only made you cry harder, except there were no more tears, just broken sobs and heaving breaths. Diluc’s other hand gently moved to gently stroke the back of your head, gently urging it closer into his chest. 

“D-Diluc,” your voice was soft, yet rough from the hours of screams and sobs, “c-can we just go…go h-home?” Your words were whispered in a plea, exhaustion prominent in your gaze as you looked in Diluc’s crystal, red eyes. 

His heart ached as he met your gaze. He noticed how tired, red, and glassy your eyes looked. 

Really, how could he not notice how tired your eyes were? 

“Of course, my love,” he murmured softly, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead before gently helping you to your feet. “Are you alright to walk? Or…,” Diluc’s cheeks reddened with bashfulness as he tried to voice the option of carrying you. Of course, if you needed, he would have you off your feet in a heartbeat. As you pondered an answer, he shrugged his coat off, tenderly draping it around your shoulders. 

“I-I’m alright to walk,” you stuttered out. Despite this, you clung to his side as he guided you out into the cool air of the night with care. The whole walk home, he held you close with an arm tightly wrapped around your shoulders. 

As you reached the familiar sight of the Dawn Winery, you felt a small spark of endearment within your broken soul. Diluc led you into your shared bedroom, helping you remove his coat and draping it over the chair. He then picked you up, gently setting you on the bed, pulling the covers over you. You tugged the covers closer to your chest as your gaze followed his form, changing into his sleepwear and finally crawling in bed next to you. 

He shuffled closer to you, pulling you into his embrace once again with one hand stroking the back of your head. 

“Diluc?” You softly whispered, head still buried in his chest.

“Mm?” He tiredly hummed out.

“C-can I– Can we talk…uhm, I-I want to–,” you fumbled for words, not knowing how to articulate your thoughts into actual words.

“Of course, love, of course we can,” Diluc gave a small nod as he replied, squeezing you in reassurance. You loved how well he understood you, even when you were at a loss for words. A few stray tears slipped out with a couple of sniffles to follow. He only tightened his embrace again, still soothingly stroking the back of your head. 

“For now, let’s try to get some sleep. You must be exhausted,” Diluc suggested gently, voice tender with care. He felt you snuggle closer into his warm embrace. He hoped this could ease the pains of your inner storm, if only slightly. 

Nodding in agreement, you allowed yourself to surrender to the embrace of sleep. You listened to his steady heartbeat, a rhythmic lullaby, that slowly lulled you into a deep slumber. 

Once Diluc heard you slowed but steady breathing, he felt his whole body relax. He could feel his throat tighten as his own tears threatened to escape from the corners of his eyes. Oh how he wanted to take away all of your pain so you wouldn’t have to suffer any longer. He knew you would most likely struggle to accept any help or comfort on your own. But he wanted more than anything to reassure you over and over that you could come to him any time. You were his top priority and he would never let you forget that.

He was determined to learn to read you better as well as help you feel confident in confiding in him. Working on feelings and emotions with someone else was foreign land to him as well, but if it was for you, he would go to the moon and back in his efforts to help you.

Diluc was so head over heels for you. You were the brightest star in his galaxy and the kindest, fiercest flame that he had ever encountered. 

[asteriastarr]

Hey!! Sorry if I’m bothering you and I know this is the second time I asked this but could you please do a deuce x fem!human! Reader ? Where deuce finds himself in our world and ends up meeting a human realizing humans aren’t as bad as he thought and ends up falling for her. An she has a rough home life.

Ice cream and Hot chocolate

A/n: Uh so I'm sorry this took so long since you sent this to me agggeeesss ago, but i was focusing on my book on wattpad so i hope you forgive me. This ones kinda long and I'm like not sure how good it is but i hope you enjoy anyways :). (P.s I wasnt sure what you meant by 'rough' home life so i kinda went with a mix of suggestions my friends gave me so- yeah... if you are going through something at home my dms are always open if you need to vent, i might not be able to give good responses but atleast you can get it out somewhere :)

POV: Y/n talks about her homelife with Deuce

Warnings: Mentions of arguing, brief mentions of cheating, mentions of abuse (brief), mention of divorce, Y/n is the eldest child, pRe-MaRiTaL hAnD-hOlDiNg (How scandalous), PrE-mArItAl KiSsInG (SOMEONE CALL THE CHURCH), pRe-MaRiTaL bReAtHiNg (MY EYES, MY EYES :O)

Monsters are real. That is something Y/n L/n has undoubtedly, unequivocally, and unquestionably known since she was a small child. Except monsters didn’t come in the shape of a pale creature with fangs or a woman with snakes for hair. No, monsters came in all shapes and sizes, almost always looking like your everyday human. The only thing that ever truly set them apart from regular humans was that monsters are cruel.

Monsters were cruel to everyone, even those they were supposed to care for and protect.

At least, that’s how she saw it.

Monsters are real. That is something Deuce Gorgon has undoubtedly, unequivocally, and unquestionably known since the day he was born. He didn’t really have much of a choice, given he was one.  Except monsters weren’t always evil, cruel beings. No, monsters were merely, beings. Sometimes they could be cruel but most of the time, they were kind beings just living their lives- or deaths- and navigating through their freaky flaws.

Monsters were just ordinary beings.

At least, that’s how he saw it.

Until he found himself in the human world. Whilst he’d never truly felt at home in the monster world- being a gorgon and all- yet, at least he knew he belonged in the monster world, here? He didn’t belong among humans. Not one bit. Or at least he didn’t.

Not before he met Y/n.

She was a human, that’s true. But even without knowing he was a monster she had shown him nothing but kindness since the day they’d met. The girl didn’t trust easy, he knew that. She was naturally quiet, seldom speaking unless spoken to and even then, it was only ever a few words… except when she was with him.

The moment the two had met they were instantly drawn to each other like magnets, they were each other’s rock, neither of them truly belonged in the human world (despite Y/n being a human) and yet with each other, they were home.

The two of them had met on accident, he hadn’t intended to appear in the human world, hadn’t intended to walk into a random middle school, he didn’t mean to lie and say he was a new student so he could stay in the human world just until he could figure out where he was and how to return to his own world.

He'd never intended to enter the library and lock eyes with a pretty H/c ghoul, her nose in a book and yet the moment she saw him she lowered it, tilting her head in curiosity.

He’d never wanted to enter his new math class, only to find it was a shared class with the ghoul, never intended for the only spare seat to be in the back of the class, next to her. Never thought that the two would bond almost instantly. He didn’t mean for their schedules for the rest of the day to happen to collide (Sitting next to her in every one of those classes however was no mistake).

He never intended to walk down the right hallway at the right time to find the ghoul sobbing in a corner, he wasn’t thinking when he rushed over to comfort her. Didn’t have to think to pull the ghoul into his arms, gently rubbing her back as he asked her what had happened. He had acted on instinct as he listened to her talk about a group of ghouls in her class who had been teasing her, still acting on instinct when he gave her words of reassurance, ignoring the feelings deep down, telling him that she wasn’t telling him the full truth.

Those first interactions had been a complete accident, the work of the gods themselves. And he couldn’t be more thankful for that.

One accidental trip into the human world turned to two, two to four, four to eight and soon enough he found himself visiting the human world whenever he got the opportunity, just to see the pretty H/c ghoul who sat at the back of the class, each visit resulting in him falling more and more impossibly infatuated with her.

He had been 13 when they’d met, had been 14 when he’d finally realised his feelings for her, it took him half a year to finally confess to her, now the two were 15, sitting together on a rooftop in New Jersey, watching cars drive by as they held each other’s hand, chatting mindlessly.

“-And then you wanna know what she said?”

“What?” Deuce hummed.

Y/n paused.

“…I forgot.”

Deuce chuckled and gently removed his hand from hers, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“What?” She asked, looking at him.

He smiled softly, looking down at the human.

“Nothing, you’re just cute is all.” He hummed, gently rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

“Oh, so me forgetting stuff is cute now, is it?” Y/n snarked, smirking.

Deuce snorted. “You know what I meant.” He stated.

“Do I?”

“Do you?”

“I do.” She admitted quietly, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek before leaning her head against his side.

“Good.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

The two lovers sat there for a while, watching as the sun slowly set, the sky turning shades of pink and orange.

However, as a dark blue began to overtake the orange and pink Y/n suddenly straightened up, panic setting in as she saw the time on her watch.

“Crap!” She exclaimed “It’s getting late, I should be going.”

“Did you want me to walk you home?” Deuce offered, watching as the girl moved to gather her stuff.

“Uh- no, no it’s fine.” She stammered, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“Are you sure? You seem stressed out.”

“I’m fine.” She stated, moving to climb down the roof, Deuce quickly following after.

“Y/n… What’s going on? Why are you so worried?” Deuce interrogated, gently grabbing her wrist.

“It’s nothing okay!” She snapped, pulling her arm away, before her eyes widened and she quickly softened “I-I just have to go… now.”

Deuce paused, narrowing his eyes as he thought of something before, he suddenly moved forward, interlinking their arms.

“Then I’ll join you.” He stated.

“Deuce- I said-”

“I know what you said Y/n, but I also worry about you so it’s either you tell me what’s going on, or I walk with you and figure it out myself.” Deuce interrupted.

“Fine.” She groaned “I hate you sometimes you know.” “You love me.” Deuce hummed “Now talk.”

She hesitated.

“My parents… they don’t really get on. They yell… a lot, pretty much all the time… sometimes it gets violent.” Y/n began her voice wavering “They yell about everything, money, us, cheating… my sisters and I have been hoping for years they’d get a divorce… it would be better for everyone that way.”

“Do they ever… do anything to you and your sisters?” Deuce asked quietly.

Y/n shook her head.

“Only when its really bad… and when they do I make sure that everything’s directed at me… Older sister things y’know?” Y/n said as the two walked down the dark street “I tend to make sure they don’t have to experience that.”

“You’re a good older sister.” Deuce murmured.

“I know.” Y/n hummed, glancing at the dark street names.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?” Deuce asked.

“Why would I? All it would do is worry you.” She stated.

“I could’ve helped, you could’ve talked to me about how you were feeling, I could’ve stayed over when it got bad.” Deuce said.

Y/n snorted.

“Ah yes wonderful idea, ‘Hey mother, father, here’s my boyfriend of six months that I’m not supposed to have, who has dyed his hair bright green which you definitely do not approve of, but it’s okay because he’s constantly wearing a beanie no matter the weather so you can’t even see it and don’t worry, he’s just here to interfere with our personal family business.’ Great idea Deuce, that’ll go down swimmingly.” Y/n spoke sarcastically before pausing “Sorry that was mean.”

“It was just a suggestion.” “I know, I know and it’s sweet you care, shows you love me but… this is family stuff, I shouldn’t drag you into it.” She spoke “It’s not fair on you.”

“Fine.” Deuce spoke “But just promise me, you’ll call me when things get bad, so I can help you, we’re in this together okay?”

“I promise.” Y/n smiled, glancing up at him before stopping in front of a house “Uh- this is me.” “You want me to walk you in?” He offered.

She shook her head, glancing at the house, sounds of yelling echoing out.

“I’ll be fine.” She murmured “I’m used to it by now.” Y/n moved towards the door, Deuce watching from the driveway, however just as she’d reached it, two little girls ran out in tears.

“How bad is it?” Was all Y/n asked, wrapping her arms around the girls.

“Really bad.” The taller of the girls mumbled into Y/ns waist. Y/n paused, glancing at Deuce. “How about we get some ice cream and hot chocolate… I’m sure there’s a place that’s open.” Y/n suggested.

The girls nodded and Y/n gently grabbed their hands, bringing them over to Deuce.

“Deuce, we’re going to get ice cream and hot chocolate, did you want to come?” Y/n offered.

“I thought this was ‘family stuff’.” Deuce smirked.

“I know but you’re paying so you have to come.” Y/n retorted.

“Oh, am I now?” “Yup!” Y/n stuck her tongue out at him and rushed ahead, her sisters tailing behind.

Deuce shook his head before following after the human girl.

[myc0nf3ssion]

I'm most certain my friends do not care for me. They know I'm mental so ofc they'd tell me they care, but deep down I know they don't. Why even invite me if you're happy I can't go? I shouldn't have told them, but at the same time I have these stupid scars so.. Whatever. I apologize for being a burden, mate. Just straight up tell me you don't like me! I'm gonna die soon anyways.

Sorry for this>_< I just needed to vent somewhere 0_0

[nikitasys]

LIFE WITHOUT FILTER AS A TRAUMAGENIC POLYFRAG+PARTIALLY PROGRAMMED DID SYSTEM

TW : vent, rant, ramcoa, programming, su!c!de mention

(I'm in desperate need for advice, for some kind of guidance or support from other progged systems who may have gone through something similar to what we're describing in this post, or not but who may have ideas of what might be going on with us.)

I stg life has been so exhausting & I just have to unmask & say it SOMEWHERE.

We're a relatively newly discovered+diagnosed system since I realised we were one in August/September of last year (2023). Before that we had been misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder for several years.

When I first realised we were multiple, I progressively began discovering the other alters. The whole process (we're also in trauma therapy) was difficult & messy but overall as days went by I personally felt more & more satisfied to see/feel how much progress we were making, even with all the highs & lows it entailed. I got to meet & learn to know a few alters, we were able to work on some of our problematic in-sys dynamics & slowly but surely understand ourselves better, both as individuals & as a whole.

Long story short, we were PROGRESSING.

Then things got even messier as our trauma therapy caused even more lifting of the dissociative amnesia in our childhood & we progressively realised we were polyfrag & had been through RAMCOA & programming. (That happened end of February/beginning of March 2024)

The whole process was getting more & more chaotic & distressful but we (me + the rest of our group of main fronters) were pretty determined to figure things out & keep on going forward, which was extremely annoying to a bunch of programmed alters who immediately tried their best to keep us quiet/isolated & make us feel insane/terrified by trying to make us go back to our primary abuser, OR convince our psychiatrist to put us on antipsychotics & hospitalise us, OR leave the place we live in to go who-knows-where & ghost everyone we knew, OR off ourself etc... in a nutshell, it was really freaking hard.

But some of us were determined to keep trying to do what was best for us, to keep trying to get better, to gain at least some kind of free will, to LIVE.

I'm sorry, this post is way too long.

But anyway, now it's been a few months since I just don't know what's going on with us anymore. The veryyyy little visualisation I could have of our innerworld is gone, all the main fronters seem to have truly disappeared (mass dormancy?) as well as the vast majority of alters we had identified up to this day. It seemed that I was frontstuck for a long while, & now it's been a few weeks that alters just randomly pop up (whether they front or stay co-conscious) & then disappear almost immediately after as if nothing had happened & I just... I feel so lost.

It's all just so frustrating you know ? To me it truly feels like something MAJOR happened inside both to our innerworld + all the alters & I'm being deliberately locked away from the truth of what it is. I feel like I'm being punished, & tbh I probably am. I'm in a lot of denial about our programming but the whole thing definitely feels like one (or more ?) internal handler/programmer has been orchestrating some kind of system reboot or hardcore scramble or... I DON'T KNOOOW 😭 I just don't know anything anymore. It's like nothing ever happened & it's particularly distressing, you know ? It is SO weird to know deep down that massive stuff is going on inside yourself but at the same time you know nothing & it all makes me wonder if I ever knew anything in the first place ? These thoughts make me dizzy af. It just feels like since syscovery there was overall progress happening, & now there's just nothing. As if everything had been suddenly turned off & restarted or... I just don't know.

Anyway. I realise no one will read this post entirely, but if for some reason you are doing it, first of all congrats & also, THANK YOU.

Don't hesitate to contact us via DMs or comment if you have any questions or advice, we'll be more than happy to answer you to the best of our abilities. THANK YOU IN ADVANCE FOR YOUR HELP 🙏🏻

— host (I think?)

[taisho-era-secrets]

Hey, I'm sorry, I don't like to use this blog for venting purposes but this is like the only tumblr blog I really use these days so I'm putting it under a cut! I just feel like it's been bottled up and it needs to get out.

Tw for abusive relationships

I went to have dinner with an old friend this week because I've made it a goal of mine to rekindle the friendships that I knew were beneficial to both parties. But we started talking about past stuff and he brought up my ex. He was there for that entire relationship and it was actually this friend that took me somewhere alone and had a mini intervention with me about how toxic and abusive my relationship was with this guy and that I needed to get out of it.

And I really wanted to ask why didn't anyone else tell my ex that? Why didn't anyone stand up for me in the moments? Like he would openly make fun of me in front of the group and it was really odd.

During the dinner, my friend said something about how he hopes that I don't let that experience stop me forever and that I should go out into the dating scene again one day. But I told him I really can't risk getting hurt like that again because I have full on panic attacks now when I think about anything intimate or romantic. Right now, I don't see myself having a relationship without hurting the other person unintentionally because of that. I'm still struggling with self love in general.

Anyways, I feel like I use writing smut and relationships as a way to heal myself? Like I know I don't deserve the world, per se, but I deserved better than that. And by writing, I feel like I have the power over my pleasure again because I can write it how I want it to happen and without worrying about someone hurting me physically or emotionally.

[etinceelle]

Just wanted to say thank you here to everyone who wrote me nice words under my last post, or sent me asks, it means a lot and I'm glad I have support. I'm not really feeling answering to everyone at the moment but know that you have my love

I don't think it's really interesting to share that, but I know I shouldn't care too much about all of that, it's Twitter and only a minority. It's just that I'm already dealing with family issues and it added up to the pile right when I was feeling a little bit better, so I kinda crashed hard ngl

Being called out for a mistake, a misunderstanding, without any attemp to listen, read or understand, when you already have been harassed irl when you were younger or when you're fighting with toxic people since a young age just makes me feel so bad and it feels so unfair. Being called out for being someone you're not, when you're actually TRYING to FREE yourself from the very people you're accused to be, is just, idk what word to use, I'm so ANGRY

It's just so freaking annoying when you always try to do your best, to be someone kind and safe, but EVERYTIME people only care about the tiny bad thing you didn't do on purpose and they send their whole army at you like you're a criminal. I'm freaking tired.

Sorry for venting here, I guess I'm just feeling more comfortable here even if in the end I don't really know. Maybe I'll delete that as well, I don't know. Funny thing too is that I thought I could enjoy some NND but in the end I'm just too frustrated. When I'm upset I just find everything related to the topic annoying so I just don't want to care or know anything about it rn. Tbh I'm also frustrated to be called a "RWBY artist" because people knew me when I was drawing a lot of it because of V9, but I'm not. I'm an artist who loves to draw RWBY, but not just that, and at the moment I'm so pissed I want to draw anything but that. I'll finish the requests before it's over, but it might take more time. Tbh find someone else to be NND ceo's because I don't care

Anyway I'm tired to feel like trash but urgh I can't help it, Genshin and Mario Kart make me feel better but I just need to freaking travel somewhere