#fucking clinically depressed and I have to take all of this on my fucking own bc mum is too stubborn and then there's also fucking school

[anitalianfrie]

.

[coldresolve]

Hi, I'm Elias, I'm a 26yo trans guy from Denmark. I write shit, I draw shit, and I get into unneccesarily tedious arguments with anons about torture apologia in fiction. I think that sums up my vibe

I've made a few posts about this already, but tl;dr: the Danish NHS has been refusing to treat me for gender dysphoria for the better part of a year now because they've deemed me "unstable." Unstable how, you ask?

I have depression.

No, that is quite literally it. Full context under the readmore.

Fighting to be heard and having the door repeatedly slammed in your face sucks peak ass, and I'm done now. The NHS is so lackluster when it comes to trans people, all of a sudden, it makes perfect sense to me why 31% of transgender Danes get HRT outside of the NHS.

And I'd rather not have to turn to the black market, so rn I'm hoping to get a prescription with GenderGP. The issue is, I'm poor as fuck and can't afford the start-up fees for the forseeable future - unless I do something like this. I hate asking others for money, and I hate it even more if I'm not in a place where I can give anything in return. But I also recognize I'm in over my head with this, so. If you've got a cent or two to spare, I'd be grateful as hell.

I've mathed it out, and my best estimate is that I need around 3500,- DKK / $500 USD. Again, this is just to cover the initial subscription as well as mandatory consultations/blood tests. I should be able to cover the prescriptions on my own, as well as further tests/consultations down the line, so I'm hoping this is a one-and-done sort of thing.

paypal: elimunpau@gmail.com

Also, important note. We're in a global cost of living/housing crisis and this isn't a strict life-or-death situation. If you're in a tough spot right now, don't send me anything, that'd just make me feel worse about asking. I appreciate the thought but you gotta take care of your own needs first. Peace and take care ✌️

So I've been dealing with major depressive disorder since I was 11. It runs in my family, and as you might imagine, after 15 years of living with this thing, I've learned how to manage it pretty well by now. I know what it's like to genuinely be unstable - and if I were in a place like that, no problem, I'd be open about that. I wouldn't be making decisions like this. I know myself. You kind of have to when you're dealing with a chronic mental illness.

Here's where I am right now: I've got no suicidal ideation, been clean from self harm for four years, no psychosis, no inpatient admissions for the last five years. I live on my own, take my meds, and I'm keeping my life in order. Depressed, yes, but about as stable as someone with my history can get, and ask anyone who knows me, me wanting to get on HRT isn't some spur of the moment decision. I've done a fucking decade of soul searching, and a few years ago, I finally (duh) reached the conclusion that living as a woman isn't something I can even fake being content with - believe me, I've tried. I'm well aware of the scope of medical transition, but I'm settled in who I am. And I just want to live like me now. That's the only thing I want.

If it counts for anything, my partner and family have supported me through this, which has been priceless obviously, but it also goes to show that me saying "I'm capable of making medical decisions" isn't purely a personal assessment. I'm pretty sure they'd speak up if they thought I was being unstable about it or whatever

But the CPH clinic for sexology, who have consistently refused to listen to me telling them all this, have somehow magically aquired divine knowledge on my capacity to make adult decisions about my own body, and on the basis that I have MDD, they're refusing to even set me up for a preliminary interview - one that would preceed a 6 month full-team psych evaluation before the prospect of HRT would even come up. They said in their latest refusal that they wont accept another referral from me until a year after my last in-clinic conversation with them, which happened on October 24th, 2023 - meaning that with the NHS, if they accepted my referral come October (which I don't have much faith they will), the earliest I could possibly get on HRT is April 2025. Arguing for my own sanity would've sucked enough as is, but it's made harder by the fact that they won't even talk to me. You're a trans guy who would like healthcare, but you have a mental illness? Good luck, you're on your own. Long live the Danish bureaucracy.

Dysphoria makes me fucking miserable. I'd rather not have to write a sob story here, and tumblr is like 80% trans people so I guess a good portion of you can imagine why waiting another year for the possibility of maybe-perhaps-if-all-goes-well getting on HRT would not actually make me less miserable about it.

So. I'm sitting down next week along with my mom to file a formal complaint with the patient's rights committee. I don't know what to call this other than some form of discrimination on the basis of mental illness, because nothing in my current situation would prohibit me from making medical decisions for myself. And I honestly don't think that a complaint is going to do much, but I intend to make it obnoxiously long, because by law, a specialized doctor and an attorney have to read through the whole thing. If you can't beat 'em, make 'em read 50 pages of you going into detail about why you think they suck, right

And yeah, like I said, in the meantime, I'm trying to go via GenderGP. It'd be nice if my poor ass could get HRT via the NHS instead of having to pay out of pocket, but apparently the bar for entry requires that you 1) have gender dysphoria to the point where it impedes normal function and 2) somehow aren't mentally ill. Who wrote these rules? Some 60yo cis guy in a suit in Christiansborg, I imagine.

Feel free ask about anything relating to this whole situation, I'll be as open as I can about it, cause I understand that if you're going to give money to someone, you want to know what it's going to. Though I hope you understand I'm not going to doxx myself more than I already have now, or give you my entire medical history - only what's relevant to my current situation.

I know Denmark is a welfare state and on a global scale we're doing alright, but I hope you don't mind if I say this: This shouldn't be happening as often as it does. Fuck the Danish NHS.

[writingshushf1]

Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

Summary: the one where going back to your hometown is never a good idea.

Rating: +18

Warnings: pure angst (w/ a happy ending), derogatory language, psychological trauma, negligent parents, mentions of abuse, anxiety, depression, mentions of teen pregnancy, ab*rtion, self-harm, addiction and ending your own life

Word count: 8.5k

Note: it’s a very loooong and heavy fic, all the possible triggers are mentioned above, so please see them before you read this one, because it has a lot of uncomfy moments. I wrote it originally around christmas (so themed fanfic?), also available in my ao3.

masterlist

The cold wind whipped against her body and she shivered slightly, the city was colder than expected. She looked around, people walking, chatting; she knew most of them, many had not changed at all since leaving the city for a better life. Since the day she finished high school, she swore she would never set foot in that city again, yet there she was. The only cousin she still considered family, recently had her second child, so the relative begged her to spend some time together; as she was busy, the only time off she could extend was precisely during the holidays.

Going back to that city gave her the creeps, she didn't like to remember everything she'd been through here. Still, she would never deny a request coming from her cousin, since whenever her relative had time, she would go visit her in London.

Her story was a complicated one. A high school plagued with problems at home - her parents never stopped fighting and consequently all the marital problems reflected on her, physically and psychologically. Several times she wished the world would take her away from that suffering. Not only that, but inside the school she was excluded, considered as stupid and someone who would not have a promising future, as a girl who only served the body, since the mind was empty. Boys cheated on their girlfriends with her, turned her into an inside joke, while girls hated her for everything. It was all jokes and games until she got pregnant when she was 16. Her parents freaked out, Christmas that year was terrible, her father's screams were so loud that the neighbours could hear his swearing.

She managed to get to London, going to a public clinic and begging the secretary to have the procedure done without her parents' permission, then she would just use the excuse of having had a miscarriage. That night on December 24th, sitting on the curb, looking at the Christmas lights in the big city, she had promised she would live there.

Until she turned eighteen, she tried to be erased from other people's memories of the city, just doing the school-home commute, doing all the endless chores demanded by her father - since her mother was too busy with her face stuffed into a glass of wine, and making enough money to get out of there through nights working as a cleaner at the roadside diner. It wasn't glorious, her past still ached in her heart, having this profound journey when you're only a teenager had scarred her life. Her cousin, Rosie, was still the light at the end of the tunnel in all this chaos she could call her past; the one who paid for her train tickets to the capital had been her, the one who fetched her from unpleasant encounters with boys who purposefully sought her out for an easy fuck, the one who fought with men for harassing her, the one who was there when she tried to take her own life and stood by her hospital bed while she became an even bigger laughing stock, not only among her peers but also in her entire family, who proudly pushed her away from everything they could.

So going back to that epicentre of her traumas was what she was doing for her cousin, a way of thanking her for everything she had done to keep her alive.

In 12 years, a person can change a lot; her hair was no longer in its natural colour, her body was strong, her head held high and the confidence that was built in many intense therapy sessions; plus an overcoming of an addiction. Some people recognised her on the street, with shocked expressions at seeing her dressed so well, others ignored as soon as she said hello and there were also those who pulled nasty conversations - obviously those who peaked in high school and were now in mediocre jobs. She responded with the utmost happiness, being in a job that valued her and still paid well was a difficult thing these days.

The woman parked her bike in front of her cousin's house, looking around, the houses were still the same, just some renovations or painting. That feeling of panic started to hover, her old house was across the street, right in front of her cousin's house. She took a few seconds to remove her helmet and grab her backpack, walking in dragging steps down the driveway, knocking on the door lightly. Nobody answered, how strange. She sighed loudly, looking at the time on her mobile phone, she was probably shopping. She walked slowly and sat on the steps, watching the movement on the street; she sent some messages to Rosie, who answered, apologising for the wait, but the line at the supermarket was huge.

Suddenly, a black Mercedes stopped there, almost crushing her bike. She stood up quickly, to check if there was any damage, ready to curse the reckless driver. A dark-skinned man with braided hair and fancy clothes stepped out of the driver's side, looking straight at her and walking calmly towards her - which made the woman's blood boil even more.

"Oy! Sorry for almost messing up your bike, I didn't mean to."

"Mate, you're lucky nothing happened." She retorted, looking the motorbike up and down.

"Oh... Okay, you don't need to get mad at me." He raised his arms and she rolled her eyes.

Before they could continue their conversation, Rosie parked her car, flashing a smile at the sight of her. She ran over and hugged her tight, which removed her tough-guy composure in front of the stranger. The older woman looked at the man who was standing there, who was waiting for the other man's answer, for a few seconds they stood still, until the owner of the other car went to him, hugging the man, who smiled and kissed her cheek back.

“Lewis freaking Hamilton, you’re back home!” The blond said to him. “The only time of the year we can actually see each other. I bloody missed you.”

“Me too. Fancy a cuppa?” He said, letting her go.

“Oh! I- I don’t know! My cousin just arrived and I need to set her down, right?” Rosie looked at her, circling her short arms around her younger cousin’s shoulders. “Maybe tomorrow! You and bring your niece and nephew, Bandit will love to have a playdate with them.”

“Deal.”

They dispersed, with the women going to the eldest house, while Hamilton headed to his parents' house.

Rosie's house was cosy, family photos on the walls, very colourful and well decorated. The blonde showed around, finally showing the room she would be staying in; there were a couple of clean towels, soap, shampoo and conditioner on top of a neatly made bed. The room was smelly and well lit, even if it was small, it gave a feeling of comfort.

"You can go pack your things, I'll start dinner. Jam is with the baby, he's gone for a routine doctor's appointment and will pick Bandit up from school later." She placed a hand on her cousin's shoulder. "Thank you for being here, you don't know how grateful I am to welcome you into my home."

"Only you could bring me to this place again."

They both cracked a warm smile, with the older one walking off and leaving the girl alone with her thoughts. She grabbed one of the towels, the toiletries and went to shower in the en suite bathroom. After undressing, she spent a few seconds staring at her body in the mirror, the scars across her torso that revealed her past, the stretch marks along her breasts and belly that hid a story she preferred to keep to herself. She took a boiling bath, letting the water do its effect and easing the pain in her back from driving on the motorbike all day. When she got out, she had only the fluffy towel wrapped around her body, she walked over to the bed, opening her backpack and pulling out a sweatshirt and trousers, she was too distracted by what she was going to wear to notice that her window faced the neighbour's window - which was consequently the room where Lewis Hamilton was staying and in the same situation as she was, with a towel around his waist after a hot shower, choosing a comfortable outfit. They both raised their heads at the same moment, exchanging a few seconds of eye contact, which was soon broken by the girl pulling back the curtain of her window. The man was visibly intrigued, his cheeks reddened by the intimate moment with the stranger.

In parallel, she went to dinner with her cousin and her family, while he had fun with his family, his niece and nephew running around the house.

…...................................................

During the afternoon tea they arranged, Rosie hosted not only for Hamilton, but also his entire family. The Londoner knew him very well, they were the same age, went to the same school from kindergarten to high school; she didn't know where to stick her face, her parents would recognise her too, she was a big topic among the adults in town. She tried to keep calm the whole moment, focusing her attention on Bandit, who called her to play together with the other children, she would surely thank him later, probably giving her some exaggerated and expensive gift. When it was time to eat, she walked further behind the children, helping her cousin set the table for afternoon tea, avoiding looking her neighbours in the face. She sat down next to the little boy who saved her skin, helping him serve himself and soon after putting food on his plate. She hated eating with strangers, however she would try her best for Rosie.

"I feel like I know you." one of Hamilton's sisters said to the woman.

"You probably do, this town is small and we are always bumping into each other." She shrugged.

His sisters seemed to have recognised the girl, however they kept quiet on that subject for the rest of the day.

By the time night was coming on, it was just her and Hamilton, sitting on the front steps of the house. The silence was not awkward, much less uncomfortable, it seemed they understood each other without any words being exchanged.

"Sorry about yesterday, I was a brat with you, mate." She said low.

"Nah, it's alright, I guess you're just a bit of a crikey... As my teammate would say it." He cracked a smile, as a result she lightly slapped his arm, which earned a laugh from both of them. The silence lasted a few more seconds after they stopped laughing, then he broke it. "My half-sisters know you."

"Yeah? One of them commented today, but we didn't follow up on it."

"They told me some things that got me gutted." Oh no, here it comes. The judgement, the past mistakes being brought on by this guy you barely knew.

"What did they say?"

"Well... We already knew a little about your parents, but they told me how you were treated in high school." She felt a wave of emotions invade her body, she didn't know whether to start swearing at him, or cry, or run far away. "It wasn't fair." Lewis said low, wiggling his fingers in each other's. "And I'm sorry my sisters never did anything to prevent it."

"It's not their fault those people were a bunch of arses." She stood, ready to go inside.

"Hey, wait!" He stood as well, holding her wrist so she couldn't leave, pulling her against his body in a warm hug. She closed her eyes, feeling the embrace, it was so good to just let it go.

They kept hugging for a while, him running his fingers through her back and she was squeezing the fabric of his hoodie.

“Tomorrow, there will be the Christmas event downtown, want to come with me? A lot of people from my former friend group will be there.” He said. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay, there will be people you know from your high school too, but I would love to have a good company so I can be there sober.” He chuckled at the end, to make the request lighter.

The ask came with a shock, they knew each other for 48 hours and he seemed so comfortable to be with her. She also felt amazing, the way he listened and cared about his relatives, during the afternoon he would often check on the kids, bring them snacks, then talk with the women about the most varied subjects, which made her question what he worked on. Lewis looked hopeful, waiting for a response.

“Okay, only because you’re a good one, but if people start giving me the shits, we’ll leave and for revenge, you’ll watch the Grinch with me; because I’m his reeincarnation and it’s the best coping mechanism.”

“Oh. So you hate Christmas?” He was way focused on the details then the overall request.

“Of course, bad things always happen on this daft holiday.”

“So my job is to make you see like I do. The past is already gone, we should celebrate the present and hope for the future, darling.”

“So I’ll wait for tomorrow night to be the best of my life?” She teased, feeling her heart beating faster than usual.

“It will be, trust me.”

…............................................

She was getting ready, happier and more nervous than usual, she wanted to look good, obviously the motive didn't pass through her mind. Rosie was walking down the corridor, but stopped when she smelled the citrusy perfume in her guest’s bedroom; the woman smiled, looking at her cousin, who was putting some makeup on.

“Ooh, getting fancy? For whom may I ask?” The older one leaned on the door frame.

“Lewis invited me to go to the Christmas event, he doesn’t want to go alone, maybe people won’t bother him as much.” She answered, grabbing her purse and fixing her beanie.

“Right.” Her irony could be spotted from miles away. “A smoking hot single guy asking you to go out with him in a sorta romantic setting is just because he doesn’t want to be surrounded by people from his past.”

“Rosie… Shut up! We’re going as friends and if it’s too daft, he’ll be forced to watch Grinch with me.”

“Not romantic, at all.” She chuckled and the doorbell rang. “It’s your prince charming!”

“I swear to God, you’re such an arse!” The girl ran downstairs right after the blonde one, seeing that she was talking with him, so the younger one stopped on her tracks, smiling nervously.

“There you are.” Lewis said, with his beautiful bright smile. “Looking amazing, love.” She walked towards him, smacking his arm slightly.

“You’re so cheeky.”

“And you’re lovely.” He responded, hooking their arms together. “Let’s go before we get late.”

They waved at Rosie, going to his car.

….................................................................

“I’m nervous.” She said, playing with her ring. “People still look at me weird.”

“It’s horrible.” He sighed. “I know my situation is way different from yours, but I understand this feeling, those racist pricks who talked shit and said I would never be a successful driver and here I am.”

“Oh… Really?” She put a hand on his shoulder slightly, squeezing it before lowering to her thigh again. “This must be a very silly question to you…”

“What?”

“A driver? Hum… I know I’ve seen your face somewhere but, what do you do? I mean... Driver?” Her cheeks were bright red.

“Formula One driver.” He smirked, it was a nice change to go out with someone that wasn’t interested in his fame or fortune, a woman that wanted him for him, his company, his odd sense of humour and a lot of style.

“Oy. That’s why.” She chuckled. “You must be really good then.”

“Seven titles and counting.” His cheekiness made her stomach flutter. “How about you?”

“I work on the creating process of a clothing brand for kids. It’s nice and colourful, my office? Full of stuffed toys, different wallpapers, one day I’ll show you.” She was proud about her work, it was something that made her happy, connected with a part of her life that she had lost and it was a good salary.

“I would love to.” He parked his car. “The way you talk about it, it’s lovely.”

They got out of the car and quickly he hooked her arm with his, walking through the closed street of the city centre. Immediately she felt the eyes on them, people whispering and trying to be discreet while taking pictures of them. He looked at her with a reassuring smile, muttering ‘everything is going to be okay’. Some kids ran to him, asking for pictures, which he happily complied, hugging them and taking his time with them while she was standing a bit further, cracking a smile on how gentle he was. However, things weren't perfect, so when she looked at the parents of the kid, her smile fell; the woman slowly came closer to her, saying her name.

“The one and only.” She answered, uncomfortable.

“I haven't seen you since…”

“We’ve finished high school. A long time ago.”

“Oh… Yeah.” The ginger was checking her from head to toe, with a disgusted expression. “You changed a lot.”

“London does wonders to you.” She joked, passing her hand around her neck, looking away. “Anyway! You stayed here?”

“Yeah, me and Rob went to university in the neighbouring city and then came back, we got married and had our beautiful boys.” Oh wow, how cliche. “And you?”

“Got out of here and tried. Failed a couple of times…” She chuckled, looking at Hamilton. “And now working in the creative process of…” She saw the kids come back, excitedly from meeting their idol and she immediately noticed the brand of their jackets. “The brand your kids are using right now.”

Lewis walked back at her, putting his hand on her shoulder, analysing the situation and seeing her slightly uncomfortable.

“Impressive.” The passive-aggressiveness in her voice was enough for the British man.

“Well, I’m very sorry to interrupt the chat, but we have to keep going if we want to get the best hot chocolate before it’s over.” He put the other hand on her shoulder, slightly massaging it. “Maybe we’ll have another free time to catch up.” With that, he held her hand pulled away from the couple, waving goodbye to the kids.

“Thank you.” She murmured and he held her hand stronger than before.

He stopped at the hot chocolate booth, buying for both of them and they kept walking. They didn’t know when they intertwined their fingers or started to walk closer, sharing small smiles and more intimate conversations, although none of them wanted this moment to stop. The beautiful stage prepared for the local band to play was ready and people started to gather around. Hamilton insisted on buying some street food for both of them to share while they listened to the mayor talk and all the boring speeches.

More judgmental looks from people were shot at them and she recognized all of them, which hurt more than expected. When the music started to play, the man let his body loose, moving with the rhythm and she got closer to him, letting Lewis pass his hands around her waist and rest his head on her shoulder, looking at the stage. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in and out, feeling the things around her, the sounds and the smells; she knew herself too much to know she was close to a panic attack, not because of him, but all the situations since they got out of the car.

“Alright, love?” He whispered.

“Bit rubbish, but I’ll be fine.”

He hugged her closer, leaning his forehead against the side of her head, murmuring the lyrics and swaying in a slow pace. It was good, she still let her eyes closed, calming herself down; he was just the best to be around. She lowered her hands, putting on top of his and caressing slowly, the feeling of it was nice, his cold rings against the warm skin. At her head, the words of Rosie before the date repeated over and over, that it was an actual date and he didn’t invite her only as a friend. They only backed off from each other to clap when the band was finishing, now some regional singers would be up and people were more interested. The passionate looks between them were so intense that they took a time to see someone calling for her name; she got out of the trance, whispering ‘fuck’ a few times, before putting a fake smile.

“I thought you were dead or something, you vanished from earth.” the brunette smiled.

“I moved out. London.” She looked at Lewis, who held her hand. He was already in flight or fight mode.

“Wow, I never thought someone like you would do so…” The woman dragged the ‘o’ while looking at the driver. “Well in life. At least get someone as incredible as Sir Hamilton.”

The brunette’s partner approached them too, with whatever he went to grab to his noisy girlfriend. Oh shit. She felt like she was sixteen again, the guy who was already in university and went after a sixteen year old girl because women of age wouldn’t want to be with him, nevertheless got her knocked up by lying to her. She held Lewis’ hand tighter, looking at him and back at them.

“Hey! You.” The guy pointed at her. “It’s been a while.” He smiled, looking at his partner. “Hamilton! I haven't seen you since the big school reunion… It was what? In 2018.”

“Yeah, long time, mate.” He said, trying to maintain as neutral as possible.

“I didn’t think you would be with someone… You didn’t seem the relationship type of person.” The guy said, sipping on his drink. “Because, you know… Your… History.”

The driver was close to beating that man up, however he knew the girl holding his hand, almost crying, would not like the attention, so he got closer to her, running his thumb around her hand, trying to calm both of them down.

“I’m sorry! Uhm… Sometimes Patrick doesn’t shut up.” She tugged at him with his arm. “He likes to keep honest, right?” Of course she would stand by him. “I mean, you had quite a bad reputation…”

“You can say it.” The girl in a verge of tears said, taking a deep breath. “You kept your whole adolescence saying it. It won’t hurt you, I know that.”

“Fine.” The brunette crossed her arms. “I hope you really knew about this Sir.” She looked at Hamilton. “But this lovely girl with you was the biggest whore in our high school and it wasn’t just rumours, she even got knocked up and claimed that lost the baby. So if I was you I would stay away, she’s just into your money and body.”

Lewis didn’t answer, just pulled his girl away and walked to his car again, trying to not call as much attention as that horrible couple already tried. Meanwhile, her head was low, no response, just some sniffles; her head was full of different voices saying all the horrible words she heard during high school, the rumours and how they treated her in that time. It was the first time in years that she felt the need to drink herself into forgetting her own name. The dark-skinned man opened the car door for her, but before he did, he lifted her face with his fingers, seeing her eyes glistening from tears; his first reaction was to take her in his arms, hugging her gently, running his fingers through her hair as the woman held back her crying. He kept holding her for a few minutes, until she broke away from the hug, sitting on the car seat, looking at him and murmuring 'thank you', in reaction, he kissed her forehead, closing the door and going to the driver's side.

The drive home was quiet, only the radio filling the silence of the car. The worried glances from the driver left her even more cringed in her seat. When he parked in the garage of his family's house, he made a point of getting out of the car first to open the door for her and escort her to her cousin's house. She hadn't said a word yet, much less acted beyond walking, so he pressed the doorbell and saw Rosie's worried look settle on both of them, yet she hurried off to her room, not even saying goodbye to their date.

"What happened?" The older woman's expression was serious.

"People from her past. They were horrible, no matter how hard she tried to be nice.... I pulled her out of a conversation before it got any worse and brought her back." He bowed his head, he was disappointed in himself, he had planned a nice date and hoped to see her smiling, enjoying life and leaving the bad feelings the city left in her. "I should have protected her, but I didn't want to make a scene. I know she would have hated being the centre of attention again. More than she already would have been for hanging out with me."

"Lew..." Rosie put her hand on his shoulder. "I know you just wanted to have a nice night out with her.... I know what you see in her. Don't give up, just... The people in this town can be the worst."

"That's exactly why I left here." He muttered.

"Well, she commented on the Grinch movie before she went out with you."

"Oh! Yeah, in case the night was bad, but I imagine she doesn't want to watch it now."

"Come in. Go into the bedroom and ask about the movie. She doesn't want to be alone."

He walked slowly up the stairs, he was nervous, afraid of what her reaction would be to him being there, somehow invading her personal space. Lewis took a deep breath before knocking on the bedroom door at the end of the hall.

"Not now, Rosie..." The woman said in a tearful voice.

"It's me, love." He said low and the door was suddenly opened.

She had her make-up all smeared on, now wearing a sweatshirt twice her size, pyjama trousers and slippers. The pilot stood leaning against the door frame, watching her.

"I remember you talking about Grinch..." He watched her expression soften, making room for him to enter.

He removed his coat, cap and shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed. She handed him a pair of slippers, before sitting down next to him.

"I don't know where the TV control is." She said.

"So... Go clean your face, take that makeup off, even take a shower if you have to, and I'll get Rosie to help me find it. And also for her to make some tea, bring some snacks and we'll watch the movie together. The two of us or she can come watch it with us and we'll be here..." He wiped the tears that were falling from her face. "To be with you. You can cry, feel angry, feel sad.... We will listen and take you in."

"You don't exist." He laughed, a little confused. "Seriously, Lewis, you just took me in.... Even though people are telling me about my past."

"But I'm seeing you from now, a woman who bloody loves her job, her cousin to the point of coming to the place that gave her trauma to be with her, someone brave who never gave up on what she wanted. Someone amazing that people insist on hurting." She hugged him one more time before he got up and went after Rosie, who was anxiously waiting at the edge of the stairs.

"Alright?"

"Where's the TV remote?" He asked.

"In the second drawer in the desk."

"The three of us are going to watch Grinch." The man smiled. "We just need a cuppa and get some snacks."

Rosie chatted with her husband and kissed him goodnight before packing everything up by the pilot and heading to the room where her cousin was. They put the movie on the television, with the younger girl lying in the middle of the two of them. Rosie hugged her, running her fingers between strands of her hair, while Hamilton felt his hand being pulled by the girl, leaving her back against his right leg. He knew she wasn't paying that much attention, from feeling her fingers wander through his rings, so he squeezed account of her fingers, seeing the smile that appeared on the woman’s face.

They ended up sleeping all scrunched up together before the half of the movie.

….................................................

When morning came, Lewis left a note on the table next to her mobile phone, written.

"hey, had to go home, text me when you wake up. your cousin has my number. - Love, LH"

It was December 24th, Christmas Eve. She woke up around noon, alone in bed. The girl didn't want to get up as soon as she remembered all the humiliation of the day before, being called a slut in front of the man she was having a chance to have something with. She sighed loudly, getting up and going after her mobile phone, finding his note. A smile appeared on her lips, he was the best person she could have ever met.

After putting on some comfortable clothes, she went downstairs and made herself a cup of tea, soon hearing the front stall open and Bandit rushing over to her. The woman cracked a smile and took the boy in her arms, watching Rosie with the baby and Jamie with the groceries.

“Oh, look who’s up! Good morning.” The husband smiled, leaving the groceries on the table.

“Oy, Jams.” She smiled, getting her nephew a cup of water.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Rosie said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Better.” She sighed. “By the way, do you have his number?”

“Oh, someone is fancying Lewis?” Jamie asked, putting the groceries away.

“Maybe. But don’t be cheeky, we’re just trying our luck, okay?”

“Sure! But he’s buff! And tidy.”

“You’re so cheesy, baby.” Rosie kissed him on the cheek.

She got his number and by 2pm, she laid on the bed, texting him.

oi! It’s me ;)

lh: me who?

lh: jk

lh: good to know you went after my number

after yesterday?

i would be an arse if i didn’t

lh: ok

lh: you have a point

anyway

thanks for yesterday, even if it didn’t go as you planned

i’m happy

you’re the kindest

lh: anything for you

maybe we could go out again?

before new years?

lh: i would love to

but maybe a home date

nothing in public

not wanting to repeat yesterday's horror

lh: agreed

The day was very quiet, they stayed at home and prepared everything that would be needed in the evening and on the 25th, being with the couple was such a relaxing thing, they were amazing people who were always available for a chat and were grateful that she was so committed to helping them. During the afternoon she played with her nephew in the backyard, making a snowman, snow angels and a little snowball war. Even though the day marked more than one bad memory in her life, she would not let it hold her back, for she is living in her present and not in the past.

From afar, she could also see Lewis playing with his niece and nephew inside the house. The woman cracked a smile at that, waving to him as soon as the man noticed.

Meanwhile, Hamilton had just stopped playing with the children, making his way to the kitchen and watching his half-sisters chatting. He grabbed a cup of tea and sat down at the table, picking up his mobile phone and trying not to pay attention to their conversation until they decided to include him.

"So you went out with her?" One asked.

"We heard some rubbish things. Of you walking out of the middle of a conversation and pulling her along."

"And that you didn't want to hear what they were saying about her."

"They called her a slut." He replied, not taking his eyes off his phone.

"Well..."

"People change." He shrugged. "She didn't want to go out downtown. She hates Christmas and those stuff, but she still went with me and people were fucking arseholes to her." The pilot sighed, remembering the image from the night before, her running into the bedroom, her face wet from tears. "She doesn't deserve this nonsense hate that her old classmates have for her."

"You didn't spend the night at home." They changed the subject before he got too angry.

"Yeah? And?"

"You were with her?"

"Yes. Rosie and I lay with her and watched a movie, she slept cuddled in the middle of us." He took a deep breath, leaving his cup in the sink. "She's changed. She's a grown woman who still bloody suffers from everything she's done, but at least she's managed to get back on her feet and live her life."

He left the kitchen, going to the back of the house.

From then on, days 24 and 25 passed quickly, as did days 26 and 27 and soon Hamilton knew he should be heading back to London, there would be a New Year's Eve party with other drivers at Russell's house and he had been invited. An idea popped into his head and soon he was in front of Rosie's house, ringing the bell. The woman's husband answered.

"Lewis! You can come in! The girls are in the kitchen." He cracked a playful smile. "I know who you're after."

"Jam... Mate, I swear..." He cracked a smile too, slapping his shoulder twice before walking quickly to the kitchen.

When he saw the scene, his heart started beating faster. She was dirty with flour as she made cookies with her nephew, her smile was huge and the boy's laughter could be heard from afar. Rosie was holding her daughter as she turned up the music. The Londoner was having her movie moment, the soft laughter, the wonderful family and a man who loved her watching from afar.

"Oi! Am I interrupting something?" The dark-skinned man said, walking slowly.

"You can come in!" Rosie said with a smile, as the other woman tried to clean herself up.

"Can we talk?" He said as he got close to the younger woman; she removed her apron and they walked out into the yard through the kitchen door, the tension in her could be seen from afar, so he held both of her hands, standing very close to her. "Calm down, it's nothing bad."

"I always hope for the worst."

"With me, it's always for the best." They both smiled before he took a deep breath and looked at her. "I'm going back to London tomorrow, I need to sort some things out.... But that's beside the point. I've been invited to a New Year's Eve party by my teammate and I was wondering if you wanted to go as my date."

"Oh. Lewis, that's... I don't know if I have the right clothes for the occasion!" She laughed softly, placing her hand on his cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! I want to introduce you to people who will love you, who will treat you nicely and see that you deserve nothing but the best." He put his hands around her waist. "And don't worry about clothes that I can manage."

"I'd love to go with you." The woman kissed his cheek. "I'd have to talk to Rosie, though. But I don't think she'd be mad, she's the best and as soon as she can, she's going to spend a weekend in London with me."

"I can't wait to see you in a gala dress. You’ll look so lush." He murmured, bringing his face closer with hers. It was an automatic movement, like muscle memory, their noses already brushing against each other from their faces being so close. A little more and they'd be with their lips together, however a loud Rosie saying that the cookies would burn broke the mood, making them both laugh before heading back inside.

Hamilton was invited to spend the day at their house, which he didn't refuse as he felt very comfortable with his family. The two's passionate glances could be seen from afar by Rosie and James, who were smiling, as if they were playing cupid. They might have spent the whole day on the outskirts of the house, without revisiting other places in the town or buying different things at the local market, but for them, they didn't have to, because each other's company was already enough.

When Hamilton left, the designer was cornered by her cousin and her husband - who were certainly far more invested in everything than she was.

"You guys spent all day together and no kiss? Nothing?" Rosie said in exasperation.

"It's just that we spent the whole day with you guys."

"You could have disappeared and we wouldn't have given a shit, you're a couple in love!" Exclaimed James.

"We're not a couple."

"Yet."

She laughed low, running her hand over her face. "Anyway... I'm leaving tomorrow." She could see the sadness in their gaze. "I'm going back with Lewis, he invited me to a dinner party with his friends. We're spending the new year together." Their reaction was squealing and hugging the girl.

"Then we'll pack your bag and tomorrow morning you'll be waiting for him and you can be at peace together in London. Without horrible people and privacy." The older woman put her hands

on her cousin's shoulders, pushing her up to her room.

…

December 31, 2022. Last day of the year. She was sitting on the floor, the day started badly, she managed to break a plate when she went to make breakfast, cutting her palm. Then the shower wasn't getting hot, then the heel she had separated to wear that night, broke just as she decided to test it. And to make matters worse, it had been 5 years since she had drunk herself to the point where she couldn't stand up and tried to take her own life. Her head was leaning against the bed, mobile phone in hand, part of her wanted to cancel tonight's plans and hide under the covers until the first of next year. Slowly she dialled the pilot's number, listening to the sound of the call until he answered.

“Hey, love. Alright?”

“No. Everything went wrong.” She murmured.

He was going out with his fellow driver friends, they really needed someone to pick their outfits for tonight, however, when he heard her voice, so low and weepy, he walked from them to a quieter place.

“What happened?”

“I cut my hand, my shower stopped working, the heel I was going to wear tonight also broke and to top it all off, today is not a day with very good memories…”

“Hey… This must be very frustrating.” He said in a soft tone.

“It is.” She sobbed, passing a hand in her face to wipe the tears away.

“Okay, how about… I can get a new shoe for you and I can also pick you up… So you’ll get ready with me for the party.”

“That sounds good… I live close to Green Park station.”

“I’m at Picadilly… Pretty close, so as soon as we finish here, I’ll pick you up. Okay, love?”

“Okay.” She smiled.

“Because they don't have any fashion sense.” They chuckled together before hanging up.

She took a deep breath before getting up again, looking at herself in the mirror, even if she was going to go and get ready at Lewis' house, she couldn't look like that. Slowly, she packed her make-up and an extra outfit into a backpack, then put on a nicer outfit; she also washed her face and put on some perfume - it didn't matter if she was going to shower later and would have to reapply, what mattered was to be smelling good for him. He asked if she could go to the shop he was in. He wanted to know if the heel would fit her, so he walked there. As that boutique catered to more famous people, everything was more discreet and safe, no one could see from the outside what was going on inside, so neither of them would have to worry about people snooping in their lives.

She walked in and was impressed at how beautiful the place was, even feeling underdressed there. Hamilton walked over to her and greeted her with a hug, leaving a kiss on her cheek. He led her over to where some of his friends were, introducing her to the others, before getting straight to the point about which shoe she thought was the best. They took a while to choose which one would be ideal, but they managed to agree on a model.

When they arrived at his mansion, the man took her directly to the large bathroom of his master bedroom, leaving her free to shower and get ready while he went to his wardrobe, which also had a bathroom.

Later, when he was ready, he went to where she was, getting jaw dropped to see her, the purple dress had been perfect on her body, her hair was loose and she wore the jewels that he had separated especially for her. Noticing that he was watching her, she cracked a silly smile, walking over to him and putting her arms around his neck, thanking him for everything and that she had no words to say how amazing he was, from welcoming her to being willing to introduce his friends to her. They drove off with his driver, so the journey was quiet to George Russell's mansion.

As she entered, she felt the distinctive atmosphere of the place, people had no idea who she was - and that made her so relieved. During the first few hours, she was introduced to his friends, made short conversations and took a few sips of water. She was more focused on how he introduced her, as his partner and also said how amazing her work was. When he reached his friends, now mostly with their respective girlfriends, she felt calmer, seeing other women also taking the same seat she was in. The girls joined in and the bomb of questions - completely respectful, began.

"Where did you two meet?"

"What's he like?"

"He is the one who fell in love first?

The personal questions were answered, but every time it got into the relationship thing, she just said they were taking it slow, taking their time.

Meanwhile, Hamilton was being questioned by his friends - and even Toto had entered the conversation. They were already more playful, wanting to know more spicy aspects. The driver laughed at the haste they were in to find out - besides having Sebastian Vettel with a 'where did I go wrong?' expression, which earned even more laughs.

"We haven't even kissed yet." The older man confessed.

Even more questions surfaced.

"We haven't had a moment together... That's all. I want to take things the right way, she deserves only the best from me."

"And that's how you win a woman, boys." Vettel added and the group burst into laughter.

It was almost midnight, everyone with glasses of champagne except her, at first Lewis hadn't noticed, but the moment he saw it, he handed his own over and was ready to look for another.

"I don't drink, Lew." She said close to his ear.

"Sorry." He took the cup back.

"Five years. Today." The pilot turned his face close to hers, surprised.

"Wow…"

"Actually, it's January first, but I prefer to count it as today."

Then he quickly left his cup with a waiter, putting his hands around her waist, leaving a kiss on her shoulder. The action left her confused, it was okay in case he wanted to drink, it wasn't his problem.

"I'm not going to drink. I want to be able to enjoy your kiss."

Before she could answer, the countdown was on.

5

4

3

2

1

Happy New Year!

She didn't wait for him to speak or do anything, she just pulled her body against his, bringing their lips together in a passionate kiss, passing her tongue into his lips until he opened his mouth to reciprocate it properly, letting their tongues move together in a rhythm. His hands went to her waist, caressing the spot and pulling her even closer. The kiss ended with little pecks and goofy smiles.

“I waited so long for this.” He murmured against her ear.

“Me too…”

They ended up calling for an early night, saying they were too tired and she had to work the next day - it was a lie, she would only be back on January 2nd. Soon they were laying in bed, cuddling.

“I’m proud of you.” She looked at him, a bit confused. “Five years is a long time.”

“Thanks…”

“There’s something else?”

“What?”

“About it. You can tell me, or not, only if you feel comfortable.”

“So…” She sighed, sitting on the bed. “I was an alcoholic, and it was getting worse, my family… Didn’t care, except for Rosie. I’ve lost my job, my partner and was losing my flat. Let’s say that at the end of 2017 was horrible for me. And with my drunk mind… I thought it would be better if I wasn’t around anymore.” He sat up, putting both of his hands on her face, looking the most worried she had ever seen. “After that… I decided to get clean, mostly because of Rosie, she said that I should give life a chance and that everyone who did bad for me would get their consequences. Then I went to rehab, started studying what I loved, made goals. It was hard, still it is… There were some days that I just wanted a sip, but I knew I shouldn’t, so I resorted to other coping mechanisms and they weren’t healthy, at all.” She lifted the shirt he gave her to wear, showing her inner thighs. “But I’m also clean… Almost two years. I really put my life back together. Not that I don’t have bad days or sometimes things may trigger me… Mostly, I’m fine, on my meds, clean and sober.” She didn't notice when tears started to fall, nor when he was hugging her, stroking her hair and leaving light kisses on her face. Her eyes closed, enjoying his show of affection.

"I'm proud of you, for the amazing woman you've become and that you've managed to get back on your feet." He kissed her forehead, before placing a quick kiss on her lips. "You're amazing and I'm going to give you the world, if it's possible, I'll go to the moon and back to show you how amazing I think you are."

"I... I'm completely in love with you." She admitted, surrendering to the embrace and causing them to fall onto the bed. The woman ran her hands through his tresses, soon beginning to trace the tattoos she could reach, as she watched his smile grow wider and wider. The pilot's hands hugged his waist, caressing the spot. "And I hope you know that I'm going to do everything I can to be by your side. Every race I can go to, I'll be there, if not I'll be here, watching on TV. Regardless of whether you win or lose, I will always be with open arms and welcome you with kisses." She left several kisses along his bare collarbone. "Because life isn't just about winning, it's about the journey."

"I really want you to meet the rest of my family." He murmurs. "They will love you."

"And you need to meet my friends." She laughed, starting a kiss.

This time, their lips were more desperate for each other's touch, like it was urgent, like the only purpose of life was to have this passionate kiss. Their tongues were moving in a unique rhythm as his hands roamed her back and she held his shoulders tightly. Hamilton's touches became lower and lower, reaching down to her thighs, where he touched them tenderly, as if they were fleeting and he wanted to remember that sensation forever.

Her kisses descended to his neck, which he responded with a low moan, grabbing the other's waist, pressing against his body. Her legs were on the side of his body, pinning him against the mattress.

"Baby... If we keep this up, I swear... I don't know if I'll hold on." He pulled her face so they could look at each other. "I don't want to push you into anything, I want it to be the best way possible."

"Okay. I agree." She cracked a smile, getting off his lap and cuddling up next to him. She left small kisses on his chest, before rubbing her face against his body.

"What?"

"Thank you. For thinking of me above sex."

"Always. You're my Christmas miracle."

"Damn it, Lewis!" She started laughing uncontrollably. "I still hate Christmas you know, don't you? You just showed me that I don't have to hate that town as much as I do, even if the people are awful."

"But..." He couldn't stop laughing either. "Okay, that was pretty dumb."

"But at least... It was you being my arse."

They continued to laugh for a few more minutes, until tiredness hit and they fell asleep like that, hugging each other so tightly as they were afraid of losing the other in the middle of the night.

Before Valentine's Day even came, he was already posting pictures of her, with declarations of love, it didn't matter to anyone why they were together and who she was. They were them and no one had the power to intervene in their little bubble of happiness. At the beginning of the season, he took her to her first race, where she met more people from his world and was even more in awe of how amazing he was. It seemed like every day she was impressed with new parts of him, he was more like a little box of good surprises.

"I never thought I'd be here, in this position, watching a race and cheering for my boyfriend, but... Lewis changed me. And I'm very grateful for that." She commented to Angela - who approved of the relationship before they even had their first kiss, not least because she loved that her best friend was happy.

"You've changed him too. For the better." Her words caused the designer to fill her eyes with tears. The pilot was ready to put on his helmet and go to his car, but he stopped to give her a kiss, yet he found her all weepy.

"What happened, honey?"

"Blame her." She said with a smile, pointing at Angela. "She said some nice words to me."

He giggled, leaving a kiss on the girl's lips, before putting on his helmet.

"I believe in you." She murmured before he got into the car.

[despazito]

like i have such conflicting feelings about the pathologizing of mental illness nowadays and the culture it creates. i think the need to have ones dx, at least in my case, was driven by a fundamental urge for validation that what i’m feeling isn't just a phase or something that will sort itself out. i think women especially have had our pain and struggles so minimized, i had lows wishing i just had a broken leg so others could at least see my pain. i clung to my dx and feet like waving it to the world shouting its not just in my head!! i’m not just lazy!!

in some ways getting the dx is like getting a pedigree for your fucked up brain. like this isnt some backyard bred tiktok adhd, this is PUREBRED adhd with the papers to prove it!!! all these women like myself who were looking for a voice and affirmation through dx to prove they “aren’t just one of those girls who’s too sensitive and googled their symptoms”, but now that’s also created its own trope of “overdiagnosed girl in her 20s” and there’s a whole new stereotype to mock and invalidate. there’s just no winning, it really feels like our pain will never get taken seriously by society to matter which route we take to get heard we are dismissed.

but of course these slips of paper become vital if you need any assistance or accommodations, so they are incredibly beneficial to have.

my issue is the more i reflect, the more i do feel like many emotional disturbances or brain funkiness ESPECIALLY depression and anxiety are the result of, or at least become more aggravated, by unluckiness in your childhood relationships and the narrative we created about it. turns out you don’t need to be textbook abused to have adverse experiences, and a failure to have a healthy secure relationship to your primary caregiver fucks with you for life but nobody wants to talk about that. i do think we live in a society here in canada where parental rights to parent how their want is overstepping on the child’s right to have the healthiest possible environment to be raised in. i had spent years reading about the lifelong effects of parental deprivation or bad socialization in dogs and parrots before reading about it in humans, and i think we forget how much humans are also animals.

but the thing is you can work on relationships, you can begin to process trauma. when i tell myself “i’m a person with anxiety” it feels really loaded with a sense of finality that i will always live this way.. the more i use that language the more futile it feels about ever improving, when so often depression and anxiety are the result of deeper unresolved issues. I see so many people with phobias or fears resign to living painful lives than trying to work on any exposure or processing their fears. i’d still be miserable if i never worked through my intense fears of intimacy, i was perfectly resigned to a life of being alone and thought i was content with that.

turns out growing up with trauma can cause the same unfocused and disorganized presentation as clinical adhd.i’ll admit i didn’t like learning that one, as adhd already has so many deniers my kneejerk response was anger at my adhd being invalidated. but i think a lot of adhd people fall somewhere in between that venn diagram, and rejecting a traumagenic theory for some people’s symptoms means they will be prescribed the wrong treatment plan. and this is why all treatment plans put emphasis on talk therapy just as much as pharmacological intervention.

obviously some things aren’t the result of your childhood! your mom yelling at you doesn’t cause autism, but chances are if you’re autistic and had cruddy support you’ll face more adversities and mental health struggles than a good supportive environment. similarly, you could’ve grown up with all the love and support to thrive but one day your thyroid decides it’s time to make you feel like roadkill.

idk, what i’m trying to say is don’t corner yourself or resign from living life because of your mental health dx or think that you’ll never get better because you “have” this, chances are there’s always room to feel better. the most hurtful thing is our inner voice if it’s internalized negative language, and there’s exercises you can practice to drill more positive or at least neutral nonjudgemental language into your inner critic. because even if you have something that will never be cured, the way we talk to ourselves about it is a variable we have some power over.

the narrative part experiencing trauma is uniquely human. some people will experience horrible things and internalize the negativity or self blame, but resilient people have better prognosis because they have ability to frame things in a narrative that don’t assign self blame, and critiques the behaviour instead of the self. because so many complications and struggles arise out of kicking ourselves when we’re down. but the thing is this usually can’t happen on its own, we need to see this modeled by the people around us. but thankfully if we missed the boat, we CAN retrain that voice

anyway that’s my musings from my perspective. for anyone curious here’s a lecture that really resonated with me, its got some hard hitting truths i didn’t want to hear but sometimes you gotta hear things that make you uncomfortable

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

Haven't heard from you in a while, hope you're doing well! <3

Hey, nonnie - I'm doing alright. Personal ramble below the cut. Skip if you're just here for fanfic reading and don't care about my silly little melodrama.

Not going to go into too much detail, but I've been really feeling the depression lately. For context, I have clinical depression and take a really high dose of antidepressants, which fuck with other aspects of my life (i.e. weight and lack of sleep). Medical consensus is that I'll need medication for the rest of my life as my brain does not perform the appropriate mood-regulating functions (I'm not super sure what the specifics of this are). I've struggled with low feeling, demotivation, SI/SH etc. for nearly nine years now. I've slipped into a bit of an episode lately - not necessarily related to being online but Tumblr is a part of it - but I'm trying to work my way out of it by picking up some new-old hobbies, such as crochet, and doing things that I like and that don't stress me. I'm safe and don't have the opportunity to action any of my feelings, so please don't worry about me!

Unfortunately, Tumblr has been a source of stress for me since I've come on here. I've made some downright terrible choices in friends, in behaviour, in the amount of energy I commit to this space, and the only one who can really break this cycle is me. This site hosts a really wide range of personalities, and I just... feel like I've encountered some of the absolute worst among all of that, and it's done me absolutely no favours when it comes to making good choices. We all say that as adults, we should know better, but there's no sudden switch that flips, you know? We spend our whole lives making mistakes and learning from them. Adulthood isn't the abrupt entry into moral infallibility, and that's been something I've had to address and work through when it comes to my own failings.

To be perfectly honest, Tumblr isn't a supportive place. Or the people aren't. I don't really know which. To clarify, I do generally speak of the community of artists and writers in this, not the people here who just want to enjoy art or read someone's fanfic. I suppose there's a certain level of - I don't know - self-centredness? - when it comes to creating an online presence and sharing one's own creations on the internet. That mentality, I think, bleeds over into feelings of entitlement in creative communities. Entitlement to other people's time, to people's attention, to people's promotion, and when one doesn't get that, the problems start: (best to worst =) transactional interaction, badmouthing, hate anons, public bashing, and the list goes on. I've definitely been someone who has been upset by people's lack of interaction. I've responded with "oh, I'm not reblogging until they reblog mine" more than once. We all know that I've been involved with badmouthing and publicly bashing others. I continue to be very ashamed of this, and I am honest with myself about what I've done and how I got there in my journey working through my problems and making meaningful change in my life.

Anyway, point is - I'm trying to divorce myself from the entitlement, and I think to do that I need to divorce myself from the notion that we exist as a community. I've put far too much effort into that idea, and it's gotten me absolutely nowhere. There are more people who dislike me than not. Most just straight-up ignore me. I deserve it, sure, but (or maybe and) I have no intention of continuing to engage in a space that either doesn't exist or where I'm not wanted. I've felt anxious and upset at the mere thought of going on Tumblr the past few months. It hasn't been bringing me joy anymore, and that was the whole point of it. There's so much bad blood associated with being on here, but I love writing. I love this show. I can't give up something that makes me so happy in every respect other than this one site.

So I've taken some time off, reassessed the way I'm intending to use this space, and I've essentially decided that I started it for me so I'm going to do it for me. I'm going to interact with who I want and post what I want and damn absolutely everyone who tries to police me (of which there has been A LOT - apparently I have a "responsibility" to support others which I now know is actually code for "I'm jealous that you're getting any kind of attention online, so instead of addressing my issue with this, I'm going to vaguepost about/anon/DM you to try and guilt you into giving my work attention so that maybe it'll transfer to me").

For the casual peruser, no change at all. But I'm done giving my effort to the idea of 'community'. It doesn't exist, or I don't belong. I am going to do what makes me happy now, and only what makes me happy. That's the whole point. I'm sick of focusing on negatives. I'm sick of posting about them, to be honest. I think this mindset will do me good.

If you've gotten this far, I hope that it's okay that I've decided this. I'm feeling positive about it!

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Heya! I sent in a matchup request before but I kinda rambled off in it (and I think I was on anon too-) so imma try again and be less ramble-y 😅

For Hazbin Hotel please!

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

Gender/Pronouns: She/They AFAB

Sexuality: Asexual, questioning-aromantic who would date men/masc

Age: 25

Appearance: 5'11 White Australian with pale as fuck skin, blue eyes with dark bags under them, half my head is shaved the other half long, currently dyed red hair but it changes once it washes out and I get bored of my natural blonde. Slightly chubby belly with average breasts I wanna remove completely 👍

MBTI: INFP-T

Mental Additives: I have autism, clinical depression, clinical anxiety, PTSD and lowkey a hypochondriac.

Personality: I'm told I'm open-minded and easy to get along with. I am also a completely open book who talks about 98% of things I have been through; including trauma and random factoids I have learnt.

I smile all the time, even when crying I find myself smiling sometimes. All I want is for the people I care about to be happy; and I don't always include myself in that list but I've been getting better at doing so!

I don't have a job but I am slowly looking. I think I've just gotten used to not having a job or going to school? It's boring and mind numbing, but the last job I had gave me anxiety attacks. Doesn't help I have no ambitions in life. Except for whatever hyperfixation I'm on!

Yet I also verbally yet playfully threaten violence on friends, but if need be I can't ever throw a punch. I diffuse situations with words and pacifist action (like leaving). But I will use my height and build to be threatening to protect a friend, despite knowing that I can't defend myself. I also break into tears if I feel like I said the wrong thing to a friend or family member. I'm not as scary as I sometimes look or act.

Imma list off words that remind me of my personality since idk how else to explain myself: Helpful, imaginative, leisurely, loyal, protective, self-critical, absentminded, touch-starved, irritable (prob the anxiety talking hopefully), unable to flirt or recognise flirting, quirky, anxioussss!, logical thinker.

Likes: True crime, reading/writing fanfic, my cat, my five birds, my two fish!, I want reptile pets, random facts, the cold (jumper weather), playing all types of video games, watching YouTube, thunderstorms, chocolate, soft drinks, my lil brother, my OC that I shape into whatever fixation I'm on!

Dislikes: Having writers block, drinking alcohol, smelling cigarettes/weed, being called lazy, being compared to others, the heat (remove my skin), drinking water, my lil brother (when he's in mean mode), racists, terfs, literally all dumbasses who think they're better than everyone, routines.

Hi, I love you! I hope you enjoy this! I want everyone to know that this bean is an amazing Mutual, and you should all check them out! Okay, okay, now to the show!

~~~~~ MATCHUPS ~~~~~

HAZBIN HOTEL

Alastor

~~~~~ HEADCANONS ~~~~~

Alastor really doesn't care for people in general. If you aren't one of the few he deems good enough, stay out of his way.

That's why he was thrown for a loop when you came along. Is someone so kind and genuine not being scared of him? Who do you think you are?

Alastor is very protective, and though it may take ages to realize he has feelings, he will firmly defend and protect you.

When you and Niffty are hanging out, he feels so proud and almost giddy, an emotion he only feels when murdering normally.

When you fought the Angels, he was in awe of you. Though you needed training from Vaggie, you were fierce and ready to do whatever you could to save your friends.

The first time he snapped at you, he felt horrible, and when you started crying, he was practically a dead man, times two. He spent weeks trying to apologize and make it up to you.

He isn't big on touching or affection, but he shows you he cares in his own way. He is always opening the door for you, cooking for you, and taking you to special events or places.

He supports all your hobbies and interests and even tries to help you find new things to enjoy. This way, when he is busy doing whatever he has to, you are entertained until he returns.

He loves just having lazy days with you in the Radio Tower. There, he can work on his master plans, and you can do whatever to your heart's content.

When he finally accepts he has stronger feelings for you than his regular crew of Mimzy, Rosie, and Niffty, he asks the girls what's happening to him.

They collectively help him confess to you, and when they find out that you two are a lot more similar than they thought, they are thrilled for you two now that you guys have found your person.

If you ever mention physical touch or intimacy with him, he will allow it, but only if you are comfortable with it. Do not force yourself to think it's the right thing to do unless you 100% want it to.

~~~~~ BLURB ~~~~~

You had been working with Niffty on a surprise for Alastor. He had been working hard to take down the Vees and especially hard to piss off Vox after a particularly vile comment he made about you. Niffty was out collecting the materials while you were researching how to make a cape, crown, and scepter. Once everything was rounded up and ready to go, you two got down to some serious work. Building your masterpiece for Alastor was moving along well, and you two couldn't wait to see his face.

Sneaking up to Alastors room, you set up the creation. While you were busy making it look perfect, Niffty distracted Alastor. However, Alastor knew that something was off as soon as you weren't downstairs ready to greet him. Making his way to your location, Niffty did her best to stall the tall man, but it was too late. Luckily, just before the door opened, you had set up the display. You remembered before the battle against the Angels that Niffty had dubbed Alastor 'King Roach'. Alastor was a king in your eyes, so you wanted to show him how you honestly thought of him.

There before Alastor stood a mannequin with a deep red cape adorned with blackthorns, a crown made of black cardboard and gold glitter glue, and lastly, a scepter made out of a large stick and one of Lucifer's rubber ducks that looked like Alastor. The man couldn't help but laugh at the creation in pure enjoyment. As he walked over to start putting on the new outfit, Niffty crawled up your shoulder and perched there waiting. Once King Alastor was officially crowned, he bent down and asked, "May I kiss you, my love?" You nodded gently, and all that was heard after the kiss was a 'blegh' sound from the tiny woman perched on your head.

~~~~~ EXTRA ~~~~~

(You had been sitting in the Radio Tower for hours and were ready for fun. However, Alastor was still trying to work.)

Y/N: Can we please do something else, Alastor?

Alastor: Dear, you are always more than welcome to do whatever you please. The most powerful demon lord is your partner.

Y/N: Noooo, Alastor, I wanna do something with you.

Alastor: Hmmmm, is that so, like what?

Y/N: uh uh uh....damn it! You can't put me on the spot like that, Alasor.

Alastor: Alright, alright, come on, let's go to Rosies for some tea and a break.

Y/N: Hell yeah! Field trip!

[glitterarygetsit]

Goodbye, Fawn

My brilliant friend Fawn (@esterbrook) died on Friday.

Fawn and I met when I was about 24 and she was about 43, and at the time, foolishly, I thought I was the cool one. I very quickly realised that I was wrong, and that Fawn was who I wanted to be when I grew up. 

She was independent, funny, smart, and passionate. If there was anything she didn’t like, she would do something about it—she campaigned for abortion rights and did phone banking for US elections. She was sharp and kind and pragmatic and gave amazing advice.

Fawn loved stories and history—we met on an archaeological training dig in York, and later bonded over fic in the Sherlock fandom—and was forever turning up old letters and pens and other things that she breathed new life into. She found a pen at a flea market and tracked down its original owner; she chronicled a WWII romance from a box of photographs (https://www.tumblr.com/a-certain-party-i-love).

For the past twenty years, Fawn kept a diary that will now be donated to a women’s history library. I hope one day someone devotes as much care to her memory as she did to other people’s.

I find it hard to think of many people who are leaving as big a legacy as Fawn. Her activism, writing (also wrote the first book on surviving at work when you have depression), and (towards the end of her life) participation in a clinical trial have helped so many people directly, and will continue to reverberate. 

And she’s still not done: even before she was diagnosed with ALS, she arranged to donate her body to forensic science (and wrote about it here: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/02/28/well/live/my-afterlife-on-the-body-farm.html).

I’m so lucky to have been able to make wonderful memories with Fawn. We went on a road trip in Northumberland and laughed at all the dicks in Chesters Roman fort with her friend Martin, who I would eventually move to Berlin with; she visited us there and baked a derby pie full of bourbon for Friendsgiving. We went to Brittany and got emotional about the Neolithic standing stones at Carnac. We walked all over London and she showed me spots I didn’t even know about despite living there for three years.

In May, I got to visit her in her beloved San Francisco, where she introduced me to tamales, giant redwoods, and her cat Cosmo, successor of Rupert, the fluffiest and most handsome gentleman who accompanied her for most of her last ten years. 

We went over and under the Golden Gate bridge, drank many cups of coffee, roamed around the Castro and Haight-Ashbury, waved across the Pacific, browsed bookshops and made sourdough and did laundry and talked until late into the night.

She was diagnosed with ALS less than a year and a half ago, which was the cruellest fucking thing not only because she deserved so much more time on this earth, but because it made talking, eating and living independently—all things she adored—so much more difficult and eventually impossible. She chose to take advantage of California’s aid in dying law and leave on her own terms, because nobody was ever the boss of Fawn, not even death.

Fawn, I miss you already. I always imagined we would one day be old ladies cackling at dirty jokes together, and it’s a crying shame that the world has been robbed of the wicked glint in your eye at least thirty years too early. You changed my life for the better in so many ways, and I still want to be you when I grow up. I love you. Sleep well.

[unnervinglyferal]

Hiii

idk I have anything much to say really

uhhh I have some screenshots of a Typical Straight Guy™ from a dating app if you wanna see him call me a “slapper” for not wanting to sleep with him if you wanna see them

I made a new minecraft skin if you wanna see that

I’ve been not managing to go to a sexual health clinic for like a week now (I have to plan it beforehand and shower successfully at the right time and haven’t been quite doing that)

huh ig I do have things to say

I might be too unwell for talking therapy currently? That’s what my therapist suggested might be the case (we’re thinking I should be fine as long as we stick to easier stuff). Also we’re looking to get a second opinion about me getting some mood stabilisers or anti-depressants or some such (that’s about my psychiatrist tho, not psychologist/therapist).

my bf - did I mention I currently have a bf? - anyway his phone broke and couldn’t text me so I assumed he was ghosting me but in fact he was desperately trying to reach me through other messaging methods which I don’t check regularly. And honestly although I was sad about the presumed ghosting and him not being into me anymore I was also kinda relieved? cos he says he Loves me and definitely means it but we haven’t been dating all that long so I think it’s just infatuation and I don’t wanna break his heart but idk how much I like him like that.

I might be lithoromantic honestly (meaning I feel romantic attraction only if it’s unreciprocated) but I do not have enough data points. And it might just be cos depression yada yada

I had this kinda conversation with my therapist and I just hate that I can’t get closure on any of this or resolve anything, I just need to not think about any of it cos if I properly confront it I just get suicidal and it’s just… exhausting.

ik it’ll get better and I’ll be happy in the future but I’ve been suicidal for 5 fucking years. why does it have to take so fucking long man.

ugh this turned out to be longer and sadder than originally intended so I’m gonna send the aforementioned media in another ask to make me feel better

Closure is a fake thing that's not real. Once the situation is over, you make peace with yourself and yourself alone. And it's going to take as long as it takes, but I promise life can be better than that. Even if you've never known anything else, it's out there, things can be better. A tadpole that was born in a bucket has no idea that there's a world outside of it. You've just got to hold on, try to make things better a little bit at a time.

You don't have to break things off with the guy just because you're scared of what might happen. Just be honest with him and let him make his own choices about it with the information that he has. If he doesn't want to protect himself from getting hurt by you - even by accident, without meaning to - you can't do that for him. You can't really do much on behalf of other people, really. And everyone gets their hearts broken at some point, it's like losing your baby teeth. Part of growing up.

...Also what the fuck is a slapper.

[flightyquinn]

AI Haters, Please Read to the End

I see people celebrating every time something bad happens in the AI art world, and that makes me very sad. Because I am partially colorblind, and have ADHD, clinical depression, and other health issues that I'm less comfortable talking about. Because I can't work, and rely on family for housing and government assistance to afford essentials. For someone like me, the barrier to entry on art is high. I'm never going to own a drawing tablet, I can't get professional lessons, my focus sucks to the point where it's hard to follow tutorials no matter how much I want to, and even if all of that could be sorted, my own eyes are against me.

But I still have ideas. I still have pictures in my head that want to get out. Characters that want faces, scenes that want to be expressed, and the like. I'm still creative. I just can't properly express that creativity. Nor can I pay someone else to express it for me. However, I can tell an AI what I'm trying to depict. I can tweak the settings, make small changes, spend hours on end generating and re-generating, tweaking and re-tweaking, and making small edits that are within my power to do, until I have a picture that satisfies my need to bring the thing in my head to life. That's not "stealing". It's not pushing a button and letting the computer do the work for me. That's me having my own ideas, and trying to use the tools at my disposal to turn them into something that other people can see.

Plus, there's one other thing I can do. This is a picture I generated with AI that I'm actually quite proud of.

And do you know why? Because it started as this.

I fed my terrible MSPaint rough as hell doodle into an AI, and told it what the picture was supposed to be. And I tried again, and again, and again, until I was able to refine the result into something that I was happy with - which took a whole lot more than just pressing the button again, let me tell you.

This is my idea, from start to finish, and my shitty art became something that actually looks halfway decent. Yeah, I'm aware of the wonkiness and AI jank. I know the jawline's weird, his eyes don't match, and there's something up with his ear. It's not perfect, but it's a whole lot better than what I could do on my own.

Look, when it comes to stopping the commercialization of AI art, I'm right there with you guys. Fuck corporations that want to replace their whole art department. Fuck people who want to impersonate other artists, or take commissions to turn someone's description of what they want into a prompt. Hell, fuck the people who take the first result they're given without trying to refine it at all!

However, I don't want AI to die. AI is an accessibility option. AI is a tool that lets me go from saying for years, "I wish I could have art of my first D&D character, I have so many fond memories of him." to having that one picture. It lets me stop stealing every time I want a character portrait for a new TTRPG that I'm starting up. Because you know what? I don't have the ability to be a "real artist", and I never will. There's too many barriers for entry.

...and my situation is mild compared to what some people have to deal with. Sure, there are people who find ways to make traditional art despite disabilities, but that's an exception. It could be the rule. Why shouldn't it be?

As far as "theft" goes, I have yet to hear one explanation of why it's okay to use references, but not AI, that didn't boil down to "it's different when we do it". And what about collage? Is a collage art, or is it "theft?" What about sculptural works that use reclaimed objects? They didn't create that. They just decided how it would be arranged. Hell, what about pieces like "The Fountain" for that matter? That's a big problem I have with all this hate. If you applied the same standards to other things as to AI, then there's a lot of things that currently are art we'd have to say aren't any more.

If you have a problem with AI, why not work to make it better, instead of trying to deprive people who rely on it for self-expression of a creative outlet?

[iamthunderhearmehowl]

Let me tell you about the tattoo that my mom hates (this is a long ass post btw)

✨️Trigger Warning✨️

Suicide / Depression

- - - - - -

Hey, hi, it's me. This is the only place I feel really open about sharing things - but with the holidays and cold months coming up I know how hard it can be for people who are struggling with depression/ bi polar / familial trauma, etc. So here's this post to remind you (and me) that we'll be okay. You and me. We will be okay. We are still breathing, and with every breath we take, we still have a shot at living the lives we've dreamed of.

You see this tattoo? I got it as a reminder. Oh yeah, also it's a Dark Souls tattoo. It says "Don't You Dare Go Hollow".

My mom HATES it, but she has come to terms with how much I love this tattoo.

But anyways, I got this tattoo to remind myself to keep going. I got it about 1-2 years after I attempted to leave this earth on my own accord.

Background (skip if you want)

It was 2020. I had been a Veterinary Assistant (technician basically depending on what state you're in, TN treats the assistants the same as technicians). Clients were beating me down dude. I had phones thrown at me. I had death threats. I had people telling me I was a worthless piece of shit. I wanted to help these animal, but to do that I felt like I had to take and accept this slurry of abuse. I was unmedicated. I felt alone. I felt like I was nothing. An empty vessel. So one day I was supposed to go to work and we were working on a skeleton crew. 12 to 13 hours a day, days in a row, sometimes we would still have to go in on our off days. I couldn't do it anymore. I called out. I said I was sick. The response "I'm sorry you're sick, but that puts our team in a hard spot". That was it. The last straw.

I ended up going to the ER. I stayed there for a week. And thrn I ended up in a mental institution for 3 days. I was started on Zoloft.

All was well for a little bit. I stayed in my profession and decided to go to Tech School to brighten my future and make some more money.

It was. The most stressful time of my life. While I did leave my previous clinic I switched to ER and Specialty and lasted only about 6 months there. Before I realized I was spiraling again. I felt like a failure as a tech. I was worthless. I wasn't enough. I got let go. If I had been doing this for 5 years and could do this what fucking good was I? I saw the signs. I understood what was happening. I sought help and went to group therapy at a behavioral hospital.

It was amazing. The people I met, the counselors, I made so many friends and people who believed in me. We increased the dosage of my meds.

Now. I'm at a new clinic. I'm spiraling again. I'm in bad health. The doctors don't know what's wrong with me, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it's stress from my career. I still come home sobbing. I come home feeling empty. No amount of medication can help free me from the unhappiness of my job. At one point I loved it. Somewhere along the way I realized that this isn't the life I want. I love your pets. I love my current clients. But I can't take the pressures of possibly getting hurt or sick. My back is messed up from this job, all of my joints pop and hurt, I have damaged and fractured my teeth from grinding them from stress. I am always tired. Working 10+ hours with just a one hour break isn't cutting it. I am miserable.

So.

I took the fucking leap guys. I'm doing it. I'm switching my career. I'm going back to my roots. I'm being creative and doing what. I started podcasting and realized how much I missed being myself. My VTNE is next month and I don't give a shit.

The game changer was really being inspired by the voice acting in Baulder's Gate 3. Hearing Neil Newbon's speech when he accepted his award made me cry. I took one of Steve Blums voice acting classes and . . . My God it was like finally hearing the affirmation I never got from my parents.

Back to the Tattoo

My point is, no matter how hard it gets, please allow yourself to enjoy the things you love and fuck what everyone else says. You do yourself a disservice if you don't give yourself a break. If you don't be true to yourself, if you don't strive for the life you've dreamed of.

It's why my tattoo is the Bonfire from Dark Souls. In your journey, you're going to fail multiple times. Sometimes, you get hung up on the same damn spot over and over and over again. Sometimes, you have to reface your enemies. DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE BOSS BATTLES. You may fail thousands of times, but you know what you do? You go back to your bonfire- your safe place- and you heal up. You get the fuck back up the next day and do it again. Sometimes your game plan changes. You don't have to fight this boss today. You can fight him when you're ready. You don't have to make huge progress in the game today - you can dick around and look for good armor. You can change the whole path you take if you want to - it doesn't matter. In the end you will eventually accomplish what you've came to do.

I have really been fighting for my life lately, but I don't want to lose hope. If I give up, then I'll never see the end of the game or move on to the next one.

It's hard sometimes. But my favorite quote is:

"So if you ever find yourself in a slump, remember your purpose - whatever it may be - and never stop fighting for your goals, no matter how crazy they may seem. And don't you dare go hollow"

I don't know you guys but I love you. And if you need someone to tell you that personally my inboxes are open.

[aropride]

that summer my parents took away myphone was sooo bad as well because qhen they found out i was using my mothers ipad they saw my tumblr dash and it was mostly like. books and memes but i followed a couple ace positivity blogs so they saw that. and my mother made me give her my phone password But i did hold out for like a week which is really impressive considering i was so scared.well and she went thru it and my she left a letter on my bed that was like "You are listening to evil music and having depression and looking at asexual stuff. Well the evil music is making you depressed and you arent asexual ur just not interested in boys right now. we are sending u to therapy." which was stressful for me but i was just glad they didnt realise i liked girls. and also that id get to go to therapy. but my psychiatrist referred me to an ed clinic place where i couldnt get treated very long bc it wasnt my main issue and insurance wouldnt cover it. but one of the people there was like Well you should keep an eye on her and take away sharp objects and make sure shes not alone to long. which was really bad advice and actively made me worse. so i was basically banned from being in my own bedroom that summer. And one time i wanted to read a book in peace and my siblings were being loud so i went up to my room andf my mother FREAKEDDDDDDD OUT when i woudlnt come downstairs i heard her ask my dad if she should call the crisis line like GIRL THIS IS NOT A CRISIS !!! I'M TRYING TO REREAD THRONE OF GLASS LEAVE ME ALONE !!! well it was fine in the end i dont remember much of it. BUT THE DOOR WAS OPENNNNNN i was literally sitting in the middle of the room like chill the fuck OUT. also unsurprisingly this did not help in any way and actively encouraged the disordered eating and self harm because i had no control over my damn life. Anyway i got really into library and would check out like 10 books every couple weeks and my mother insisted on reading thru the summaries of all of them to make sure they were "appropriate" but i didnt gaf bc i also had my school library where i could read whatever i wanted. and i also got really into handwriting fanfiction and i used tumblr instead of paying attention in my classes. so literally all it did was make me really really mad

[heightjoke]

if it's "just anxiety" then I go up my antidepressant dose even though it makes me sick so I don't ill start propranolol at high doses again and have a dissociative episode so I won't

what if I did therapy?

2 rounds of CBT + 3 lots of counselling + Intensive CBT with ERP + mentoring and several self help books haven't helped- but sure, be my guest. Give me awful therapy again, only to tell me I'm self aware and that scares you as a therapist.

maybe it's my adhd meds so I stop them and can no longer take care of myself and get depressed and hate myself and watch all my potential shrivel away from me.

maybe I change the adhd meds to short release and forget how many I've took because of adhd so end up at A&E getting my stomach pumped.

maybe it's my birth control so I come off it and my debilitating secondary dysmenhorrea comes back which makes me scream, pass out, and vomit.

maybe I'll switch birth controls - the coil? makes period cramps worse. The one that goes in ur arm? I have Intrusive thoughts I think that would kill me to know it was there, in my arm, always. A patch? We don't know if or which hormones it could be or even if this is the culprit, so I can't just change to the same thing.

maybe I'll just continue as I am, maybe I can manage - oh but silly me, untreated acid reflux can result in cancer.

Don't worry, they did an endoscopy and were happy to let me know there was no cancer. I wasn't going in for a cancer check though. good to know I guess.

PPI did nothing, Antacids barely do much, if anything. Chewing gum helps but dehydrates me.

I have to do something. It's every single day for the past what, 3 odd years? That's before I started half the bloody meds I'm on now.

but you know what the funny thing is?

I don't even have a differential diagnosis for myself. I Don't Know what it is. I think it's GERD/GORD I guess. But then why did 2 months of a high dose PPI do nothing? Why was nothing found on the endoscopy? WHY AM I HAVING TO BECOME A DETECTIVE FOR MY OWN BODY.

I was gonna go to a sexual health clinic, but they're all either 1☆, private, or miles away.

I have to get this all out somewhere. but God does it make me so depressed to realise it'll probably take until I'm puking every day for me to get listened to. Even then I'm not fucking sure. I could puke blood and some misogynist doctor prick could be like "ah I know! you're on your period aren't you. here wear this pad as a mask and fuck off, woman"

👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

[elizaviento]

Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine (Part 13 of ?)

(Stardew Valley — Shane/Female Farmer/OC)

This chapter is rated NSFW — 3072 words. Super sappy sex.

Note: A tad bit shorter of a chapter, but I have some shit brewing. Oh boy. Just you wait. In the meantime, try not to let your teeth rot out of your skull reading this sticky sweet crap. Lmfao.

(FYI: Additional chapters of Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine can be found in the Stardew Valley Fic Masterpost link in my blog description.  Or, you can click the #green on the vine strawberry wine tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

Kristen whined, high-pitched and desperate, while her blunt fingernails swam past silken black strands and anchored themselves into her boyfriend's scalp. His lips expertly molded around her aching clit, applying gentle suction, all while the tip of his tongue swiped across the bundle of nerves in perfect rhythm.

"Shane. Oh, fuck."

Two digits flexed inside her, hooking and sliding, pressing the spot that made her see explosions of color on the back of her eyelids as she squinted them shut and rolled her hips to chase the gorgeous pressure.

"Oh, god. You're so…  good at this," she praised even while struggling to stay upright where he'd perched her on the kitchen counter. In the flurry that followed her sappy gesture of affection, she hadn't the mental fortitude to object when Shane hiked her up, lifted the skirt of her sundress, and pulled her panties to the side. Not that she would have wanted to.

He responded to her encouragement with a low groan of his own, the vibration adding an extra spark of pleasure that had the heels of her feet pressing into his back harder than she'd intended. The polyester of his Joja uniform polo felt entirely too unpleasant against her skin, and she despised the clinical blue hue, dredging up mortifying memories just as she was on the cusp of climax.

"Take it off," she suddenly demanded. Shane's eyes flicked up to meet hers, mouth still latched to her cunt as she stared down at him, panting harder than if she'd just run a marathon. "The shirt. Please."

The loss of warmth on her sex was jarring, but it allowed her to scoot her ass further up the counter while he grasped the collar of his shirt, ripped the offending garment over his head, and tossed it haphazardly over one of the kitchen chairs.

"Don't wiggle away from me," Shane rasped, hooking his hands under her knees and pulling her forward to hang off the edge. She squealed and giggled, clasping the old countertop with her good hand while the other flailed to keep her balanced. "I won't let you fall, babe."

Kristen sighed as his tongue slipped through her folds, probing at her entrance before his fingers found their way back where they belonged. His words reverberated between her ears, taking on an entirely new meaning while her thighs clamped around his head.

I won't let you fall…

She trusted him implicitly because he wouldn't let her fall. He'd proven it more times than she could count — despite the demons that plagued him, despite addiction, despite the depression that sometimes threatened to consume him. He'd been there.

"Shane," she gasped, tugging at his hair insistently. "Shane, please… I need you inside me. Now."

The way he handled her — dismantling her legs from his shoulders, rising to capture her by the waist, and lifting her from the counter — was fluid and smooth, like a dance he'd rehearsed a thousand times before showtime. She didn't have to think or speak, only wrap her thighs around his hips and her arms around his neck while he carried her toward the bedroom. Hands roaming one another's bodies, shucking clothing and trailing steaks of fire across flesh, tangled together, crumpling sheets. 

"I'm gonna fuck you 'til you beg me to stop."

His voice was gruff as he ripped open a condom wrapper with his teeth and rolled the latex down his cock before Kristen could blink. Scrambling toward him on the mattress, she placed a palm on his chest and pressed until his back made contact with the headboard.

"No, baby. It's my turn to fuck you," she declared, straddling his lap, hovering just above his erect cock as his eyes widened and his hands settled on the curve of her hips. "You've been so good to me. Relax."

She took her time teasing him, pressing feather-light kisses to his forehead and cheeks while swirling the head of his dick through her slickness, suppressing tiny moans when making contact with her clit.

"How's this?" she asked, even as he pulsed in her palm. "Feels good?"

His only reply was a strangled curse before he tangled his fingers in her hair and crashed their lips together. Shane was frenzied, kissing her with more passion than he had thus far, rapid breaths puffing from his nostrils while his tongue swiped against her own and his teeth nipped at her lips. Taking that as a sign of encouragement, Kristen fully grasped the base of his cock, guiding it home. Lower and lower, she sank, agonizingly slow, savoring the stretch that bordered on painful.

"You're torturing me," he finally mumbled once he separated from her mouth long enough to speak. Flicking his eyes downward to where their bodies were joined to prove his point, Kristen sat immobile, warming his cock from the inside while an uncharacteristic chill prickled her skin, tiny hairs standing on end in response.

"You call this torture?" she teased, shifting her hips forward and back. She was instantly rewarded with fluttering eyelids and flexing fingers that had roamed to her ass. "Shane," she whispered into the shell of his ear as she wrapped her arms around his chest and settled her chin on his shoulder, "I'm so happy you're finally mine. I'm so happy."

He seemed to draw a breath and hold it as she began to move — slowly upward across his entire length and then just as slowly back down. Something made itself known to her in that singular instant with a man who had promised to be whatever she wanted. She knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he didn't have to be anything other than what he was. Everything felt wholly perfect, and sharing it with Shane added the syrup-coated cherry on top — sweetness and light and everything sappy and beautiful and good. For the first time in her life, she could pinpoint this exact moment as the best. Nothing that had come before it could compare, and she had the rest of her life to try and top it. So, she expressed it the only way she could while overwhelmed by such all-encompassing emotion. Physically.

Having sex and making love were two totally different activities Kristen had thought she'd experienced. She'd had sex — emotionless, mechanical, singularly focused. And she thought she'd also made love. At least, that's what Jason had called it because he refused to refer to the act by anything erotic. They never fucked. They didn't screw. Kristen accepted his version of intercourse as "making love" even when it ended with her unsatisfied, staring at the wall while he snored beside her. More than several times, she thought to herself that she'd rather just have sex if it meant she could also get off, which, in turn, made her feel selfish and ashamed. 

But no. The way she clung to the man in her arms as she set a slow and steady rhythm. The way his humid breaths fanned across her neck and shoulder. The way his deep moans rumbled in his chest and radiated outward to hers, acting as an intangible link between them. The way she pressed crescent grooves into the flesh of his back and the way her heart felt as if it were so swollen it would split in two and the way her eyes pooled with unshed tears and the way and the way and the way…

"Kristen," he croaked, digging his fingers into the meat of her ass as she quickened her pace, grinding her hips while gently sinking her teeth onto his shoulder. "Pretty baby, fuck — if you don't…  Christ! " He shifted his grip to her hips and held firm, stilling her desperate movements as much as he could until her brain caught up with his words. 

"What?" she gasped against his neck between peppered kisses. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, babe. I just — you're gonna make me come too fast if you keep doing that." He cleared his throat, and the vibration tickled her nose and lips. "You weren't kidding when you said it's your turn to fuck me, huh?" A warm chuckle followed, his hands now smoothing up her sides before trailing back down with his fingertips. Kristen blinked, and two fat tears rolled down her burning cheeks.

"I love you."

The words tumbled from her mouth before she registered them as coherent a thought. It was true. Of course, it was. She loved Shane Davis like she loved no other. He was her best friend. He was the person she turned to for most things, including companionship. Even when he spat obscenities at her, flipped her off, and told her she was wasting both of their time by attempting to befriend him, she couldn't get the image of the young boy with piercing green eyes and floppy black hair out of her mind. His face haunted her that entire summer of her childhood, as cute boys do when they embed themselves in the psyches of young girls — her very first crush. So she'd pushed and pursued and insisted, and slowly, so very slowly, she cracked his exoskeleton and burrowed herself deep in the malleable jelly he kept hidden deep inside.

She loved him. It was certain.

But confessions of such magnitude uttered in the throes of passion could be cast in doubt or ruin the mood entirely. Kristen froze, her arms tightening around Shane's torso as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, hoping he hadn't heard it.

"Kristen. I — what?"

The languid tickle of his fingers on her side had ceased, and she could feel his heart pounding against her chest. For a terrifying moment, she was convinced he'd forcefully untangle her from his body and toss her to the floor, and she prayed to a God she wasn't sure existed that she could pluck the words from his brain and stuff them back down her throat until she choked.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled against his skin. "I didn't mean to say it like this. You don't have to say it back." And that was true. She expected nothing from him. She never had.

For what felt like millennia, the room fell silent with the exception of Shane's breaths as they expanded and contracted his lungs, his heart thumping like a drum. Kristen had no clue what he must be thinking, but the possibilities zoomed through her mind at warp speed, each more stress-inducing than the last. In the end, however, he didn't say a word.

By the time Kristen realized she was being manipulated into a new position, it was too late. Shane had lifted her from his lap, anchored his legs beneath him, and she slightly bounced when her back hit the mattress. Utterly dazed, she stared up at the ceiling until Shane's face hovered above her, his expression softer and sweeter than she'd ever seen.

Involuntarily, she reached for him with every limb and drew him in, locking her ankles behind his back while his hands sought her wrists and pinned them above her head. He kissed her once as he pushed back inside so effortlessly that it felt like he knew her body better than she did, mapping out every course like he'd traveled them a thousand times.

Feral was the only word Kristen could coin afterward. Grunts and slaps and guttural moans filled her bedroom while Shane fucked her to the edge of a coma. Any concerns he may have had about coming too soon must have been consumed by whatever lust-fueled demon had utilized her confessions of love as a conduit to possess him.

Her first orgasm built and mounted while he fucked her rough and slow, intense eye contact locking her in place when it snapped and spiked her circulatory system with a heavy dose of endorphins. She screamed his name, but he didn't break stride, rocking her body as she rode through it on a speeding bullet. The second was just as intense once he'd flipped and positioned her on her stomach, cheek pressed to the quit, arms limp at her sides. She was fairly certain his grip on her hips as he pounded her from behind was the only thing keeping her from sliding off the edge of the bed and face-planting into the hardwood boards below. She twisted the quilt with her unbandaged hand, her cries muffled by the mattress when it crept up on her and pounced like a wild cat stalking its prey. Faintly, she was aware of his increased moans and faltered rhythm as she felt his cock pulsing inside her, signaling that he'd finally lost the battle to keep her held captive while he transformed her skeleton into moldable clay. 

Breathless and sweaty, Shane flopped down beside her and regarded her with the same soft and sweet expression he'd worn before screwing her senseless. 

"You okay?" he asked, tucking a curly strand that had fallen over her eyes behind her ear. She had the urge to laugh at such a silly question but could only manage a weak nod.

For a moment, she dozed, recovering in the fuzzy hypnagogic waiting room of her consciousness. While floating, she concluded that she absolutely could not fuck this up. The mistakes of her past would remain there, abandoned but not forgotten. She had a story to tell; that much was true. The details were ugly and painful, and as much as she loathed to relive them, she knew she owed it to him. Would he hate her afterward? She hoped not. But, in the meantime, she'd do her best to make him believe the words she'd thrust upon him much sooner than she planned.

Maybe one day, he'd say them back.

❦❧🍓❦❧

She awoke with a start when Shane gently shook her shoulder, and for a second, she wondered if she was late for school.

"Hmm?" she asked, eyes adjusting to the evening gloom that had claimed the bedroom. The setting sun could be seen through the window behind her bed, hues of hot pink and brilliant royal purple streaking the sky.

"Hey, sorry," he replied, looking a bit sheepish that he'd woken her up. "Morris let me take Friday off so I can drive you to Zuzu."

"Good." She reached for his hand and threaded their fingers together, requiring physical contact after such an intense lovemaking session. "Thank you."

"It's nothing." His expression was vacant, and his eyes stared beyond her, even while fixed on her face. She opened her mouth to ask him what he was thinking — obviously deeply mulling over something important — when he spoke again. "I'll move in. If you still want me to."

Kristen flushed, warmth spreading clear to her fingers and toes, but she kept her own expression neutral, waiting. Afraid that if she reacted in any capacity, he'd be spooked and scamper off into the woods like a skittish bunny rabbit. When he didn't say anything further, she chanced a follow-up question.

"Are you sure?"

"No," he replied, capturing a strand of her hair between the fingers of his free hand. "But it's what I want."

She wasn't sure how to respond because she didn't have an argument. Even if she feigned confidence, she knew that the suggestion was something Shane would struggle with, regardless of his decision. The fact that he was being so honest was more than enough.

"You can change your mind," she said, watching as he smoothed her hair through the pads of his index finger and thumb. As much as she cursed the curly bush on her head, seeing someone else admire it made her feel nice.

"I know."

They co-existed in silence for a while, Shane closing his eyes while his fingers continued to twirl, and she watched intently, creating a mental checklist of all the things she'd have to buy, move, and clean to make the farmhouse inhabitable for a little girl. She also prepared herself for the sneaky glances and whispers that would circulate through Pelican Town once its inhabitants caught wind that Marnie's nephew had shacked up with Homer Wynand's granddaughter.

"When are you going to tell Marnie and Jas?" she finally asked, unable to hold back any longer. Excitement had devoured her, even while fighting to keep it at bay until the moment Shane's clothing hung in one of her closets.

"Um, dunno. Maybe this weekend."

He didn't open his eyes when he spoke, and Kristen wondered if she had ever seen him so relaxed. Her instinct was to cuddle closer to his chest, tuck herself below his chin, stay there for the rest of her life. Instead, she craned her neck over her shoulder to check the time on her alarm clock.

"Yeah, I should probably go," he spoke again. When she turned back to face him, he was scrubbing at his eyes with his fists, already moving to sit up. "Told Marnie I'd be around for dinner tonight. She saw me wasted at the Saloon on Friday, so she's been hovering."

"Okay," Kristen replied, joining him as he stood and located his clothing from the haphazard piles littering the floor. She opted for a bathrobe instead, plucking it from the back of her closet door.

The short walk from her bedroom to the kitchen to retrieve his discarded uniform shirt felt hesitant, and she couldn't pinpoint why. Granted, she didn't want Shane to leave. She knew a heavy silence would settle over the house once he was gone. A silence that she would attempt to fill with inane chatter from the television or by cranking the record player as loud as it would go or with the jingle of bells while she played with Moody and his many toys. But she also knew she had to hold the reins loose and allow Shane to meander without too much resistance. Allow him to find the path on his own and follow it back to her. 

"I'll be around in the morning," he said, opening the front door and stepping onto the porch. She followed and drew him in for a parting kiss.

"You better, boyfriend."

He scoffed, but a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he turned and began his journey back to the ranch. Kristen watched until he disappeared into the pines at the edge of her property, swallowed by the forest. 

[gayspock]

yeh last one

my honest truth is i have never gone back on a thought ive had during whatever the fuck you want to call my little Moments as it were. like ive never had a screaming, crying, throw-up fit about how much i really need to hurt myself and looked back on it and thought i dont any more or regretted feeling like that. idk. embarrassment over the fact i might , when lucid enough to do so, end up going on a little whinge on here (ironically as iam now). cuz god shut up. but i dont rlly take any of that shit back ever. like i can carry that certtainty fucking with me that nothing ive ever been upset over has been something ivve come to think otherwiseon. and idk idk i say this bc idk. something something. i think abt how so often its like yeppp its a mental breakdown, but fucking is it. like is it actually. is it ever. am i irrational. i feel like the only ways in which its truly irrational isthinking it mattered enough to get that worked up in the first place like its ever going to mean something or going to be different . io genuinely wonder how many hours ive spent of my life just spiralling how its never meant anything how it keeps just getting worse how its never going to matter how much it hurts to anyone at all but me, really, how amny times have i been to the brink or tried really hard or done any number of fucking things and its never made a single difference not even slightyl for so so long. and the only thing there is between that and this is jsut pushing it forward to tomorrow and it sitll doesnt help im still not like a fucking person or whatever . i ts just been non fucking stop it never fucking stops no matter what i do or try or how long i do something or try something and people wont even believe it . youre not doing it enough youre not trying enough and you keep on doing it you keep on but more and more doors shut inyourface and you still can neverjust find anything . anything at all. not a single fucking thing even for once and youre not astrong fucking person or whatever i dont fucking know you just want to curl up and die like why do i keep doing this what difference is it ever going to make where am i going im going nowhere and who for who fucking for for ME i dont tink ive ever been worth it to anyone and certainly not to myself and even if it was i cant get anywhere and i dont think i mean anything and i dont know i keep thinking would it happen if like even/ for second to have something thats worth it for a second like o if i wasnt entirely alone if it was real if something jst. it doesnt even have to be a passion ro an interest just something that isnt fucking nothing butif you had that you wouldnt be here in the first place . thats the conceit of it. im not fucking depressed im not fucking clinically unwell im jsut a fucking useless piece of shit and no i cannot fucking cope with that its fucking horrible theres nothing and i cant manage it i cant manage being alone every wakinghour of my life i cant imagine feeling so isolated and alienated and doing things on my own i cant manage the constant fucking failures and inadequacy i cant

and i think . respectfully its fucking reasonable to want to killmyself because why why why the fuck would i want to be alive thats not a fucking chemical imbalance wat is the fucking point and theres nothing you can fucking Say to unfuck that thats the natural fucking rejection that respectfully everyone else can also fcking understand because god knows i dont know i dont know whats wrong with me or why i just cant do enough to do anything i dont fucking know i dont know why im never enough for anythingand . and what ma i trying oto prove and i dont know why it matters i dont know why i keep caring as if it fucking matters, man, thats the embarrassing thig that really is it i feel so fucking ashamed of myself because i feel liek im still setting ym expectations so so fucking hgih for myself getting upset in the fucking first place lik e come on dude its long long long past the point why come on just shut up and you know like god what are you doing iits so fucking desperate and pathetic to keep fucking going and i wish i never existed or whatever i wish or whatever ugh or whatever who saidthat oh was it me i dont fucking know i hat ebeing alone thats what i hate the most i hate how its just alwayslike this i hate being near people sometimes i hate fucking talking to people because it justfeels like everything i cant fucking manage all of the time i keep getting so so fucking upset over dumb fucking shit getting so fucking sad and jealous and miserable and its not fucking fair i jsut i dont know why eveyrone else has had something or someone even jsut once i feel like im just floating through everyone and even thats such a fucking stretch i just . i cant do it any more i feel so ugly adnd unwanted and i feel like i cant do anything to ever help it i feel like i jsutcant blamepeople i can tblame anything but myself for existing and ijust feel like the only way to fix it is out and WHATEVER

[hells-greatestdad]

//

Lucifer going total shut-in for 7 years is relatable to me, if for different reasons

Personal details of my life shared, no need for any of y'all to read this shit. I just feel like being a rambly bitch I guess. Probs gonna delete later.

My adulthood had a very rocky start. Having lost my stepfather (whom I was VERY close with) around the time I should have been finishing up highschool.... plus. Being someone with autism and ADHD and having zero clue about that fact - these conditions come with something called "executive dysfunction", which is a fancy way to say that many things that come more easily to other people don't come at all easily for us.

I had absolutely zero support during that time, outside of my internet buddies who were just.... emotional support, naturally.

I spent literal years stuck in a very deep rut of nothing. Sometimes depressed, sometimes not. But needing and WANTING to move on with life, despite having no idea how. Feeling left behind by my peers, who were going to college, getting jobs, starting careers, some getting married.

Meanwhile? My days were basically spent.... trying to accomplish shit. But failing. Not knowing where to even start. I'd try something and more often than not get overwhelmed by not knowing what fucking steps to take first and foremost. Which caused me to either give up and fuck around on the internet, or go lie in bed and despair about how goddamn useless I felt.

I went years accomplishing nothing. I was 25 before I knew it, and it was at that point that I decided I NEEDED HELP. Because I wasn't getting it from my mom, who just shamed me for not having a job and was zero help.

I started an outpatient program at the local mental health clinic, got dx'd with OCD and social anxiety (OCD yes, the social anxiety was more a symptom of my autism which had yet to be discovered). Was given a social worker who helped me get into a routine and start the process for finding a job. That's what I mainly needed.

Anyways. Lucifer's reasons for falling into the shut-in life are obviously different, more to do with the fallout of Lilith's absence and likely his own abandonment issues remnant from the fallout with Heaven.

But writing him in that period of his life does brings back stuff. Not in a bad way, more in a way that helps to give... insight, maybe?

[nadia-joy]

I Let Myself Go

A few months after turning 21, I laid sleeping on the floor of my boyfriend's brothers apartment. All of my belongings have been thrown away, except for the clothes I was wearing and what I was able to fit inside a backpack.

The Brother and his girlfriend approached me, while I still lay on the floor. "You let yourself go." He said plainly. "no. I didn't. I'm fucking -depressed-" "You don't even wash your face every day." "Because I have no fucking facewash. I don't even own a fucking toothbrush anymore, how the fuck am i supposed to take care of myself when I have nothing?" I replied honestly.

I hadn't let myself go then, but the following years would lead to the unavoidable pit of depression that catalyzed me letting myself go. In a year, I have gained 100 pounds, smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, lost touch with all friends. I didn't exercise and somedays, I would eat an entire box of ice-cream sandwiches for dinner.

And now, I'm finally trying to get my ducks in a row.

And as someone who is clinically obese with a stew of mental disorders...this shit is hard. What got me out of the pit, was when I decided to volunteer at a therapeutic riding center. I fell in love with the horses, with the transformation of severely disabled kids before they rode, and during their ride. I even tried buying one of the horses because I simply fell in love with him.

I found a new passion. I bought tons of books to study, and i studied. But I was also so embarrassed. It was hard to keep up with the horses, and sometimes they ran. I swore my feet hitting the ground while running were louder than the horses! And, I sweat like a maniac. That was embarrassing. I would do the work without complaining, but i knew, that they knew, that struggled with it...because it was obvious.

So I took a step back from volunteering to focus on my health and create healthy habits. But I'm lenient with my habits. If it's too hard somedays, half-assed is okay because, it's better than nothing. So, I try to brush 2x/day, but once is acceptable. I shower daily, but somedays I don't wash my hair. I do a 5k walk every-other day, but at least a minimum of twice per week. I quit smoking, but I do use tobacco free nicotine pouches.

I'm still fat. In-fact I've gained weight. But I've lost inches! And, and... i can now get around my house without getting out of breathe! I even have a little pep in my step! It's difficult, but it's going well.