#in my brain i Know that it's not the suffering Olympics

[andromede-ayne]

- a disability is defined as a physical or mental impairment that significantly limits one or more major life activity

- autism adhd other mental health weirdness etc. greatly impacts my functioning and makes it so i cannot function on the same level as people who do not have these things

- life activities are being significantly limited

- therefore i would be considered disabled

- my brain, regardless: yes but that's disrespectful to actual disabled people whose life activities are being significantly limited

- mfw 😐😐😐

[cheriladycl01]

In your Dreams - Lewis Hamilton x FrenchOlympicBadminton! Reader

Plot: Lewis loves Golfing, Surfing and Skiing, so you’d think if he’d end up with an athlete he’d end up with one in one of his secondary sports. But no, hes with you on the red carpet of the debut of a movie airing about your life and your struggles before becoming the youngest Olympic Gold Medalist in Badminton, and having the most consecutive medals too.

Warning: lots of dark themes and undertones about your backstory in this one’s, specifically abuse in the system, parental pressures, grooming and SA (by an ex partner) etc

Credit to yuzuchupachups for the GIF

You walked along the red carpet outside the Leicester Square cinema where the exclusive showing of your new movie was occurring.

Lewis couldn’t keep his eyes off of you in that pretty red dress he loved. The moment he saw you in it, his brain had pretty much short-circuited and his only thoughts were off you.

He knew in the red carpet photos you’d be there radiant as ever and he’d be looking at you like some love sick puppy. But he really didn’t care, this was your night and he was here to support you … his fiancé.

“Thank you for being here tonight. I know it wasn’t easy to get time away” you smile up at him, holding him close to you and looking at him with an adoration he saw often. You knew he was busy with the season as it hadn’t started off as Mercedes Gad expected and he was under a lot of pressure from Toto that he’d been feeling overwhelmed most days.

“You know I’d do just about anything for you my Cherie” he said using the nickname you loved.

“I needed you here tonight” you smile pulling him into a kiss, the camera flashes instantly picking up speed and consistency making you giggle into the kiss.

“I know darling” he says keeping his hold on your waist tight as you walk past the photographers and paparazzi posing every now and then when they ask you to stop.

You eventually get to the people interviewing you, happier to be in a calmer than the one at the start of the carpet.

“Y/N it’s amazing to have you here tonight on the premier. Feeling right now?” She asks and a grin comes into your face.

“Amazing, honestly to have my personal story but out in such a raw and public way is such a helpful step for people who maybe or may have suffered the way I have an gives a message of hope to anyone who has ever felt the way I did that the road doesn’t end there!” You nod loving that you will be helping millions of people who have shared the same experience as you.

“So before we go in, tell us a little about the film!” She probes.

“Well, it’s starts on the note of me growing up pretty tough and with no outlook for my future, being tossed from foster to foster home, the hard times and abuse I went through there before I come across Patrick DuPont, who we know very well as my trainer and the main reason I ended up where I am today. It moves through my teens and realising I’m talented and some things and how I was naive enough to not see the manipulation and abuse I was put through as a result of that and how I was used by many. It guides you through my most important relationships with people both the most gnarly and the most pure. It’s a really moving and emotional movie that I know will being lots of people including myself to tears” you explain the rough synopsis to her, making her nod and check her pad in-front of her that an assistant was holding out for her.

“And obviously adding onto those relationships, who will we be seeing a lot of?” She asks and you nod.

“Obviously towards the start in my early childhood, you’ll see a lot of my foster parents and my childhood best friend Emilie Bustlen, as I grow up you meet Patrick and my main foster family. For legal reasons we had to change names around because of this so they are know as the Laurent’s before we meet Hunter Goshill, my ex partner and some of my competitors. Before we finally find a safe haven, in this man right here beside me” you smile pulling Lewis forward and closer to you, he looks a little shocked that he’s now in the full shot of the camera rather than off the the side and has a mic code to him.

“You guys met when Y/N was 19 and you must have been what 25, 26? How did that work in 2011?” She asks knowing that’s when you met.

“Obviously I met Y/N at a race, she was there alone walking through the paddock and I just fell in love with her. Once I worked out who she was having an Olympic gold medal I was introduced to her by my then team principle Martin Whitmarsh and I proceeded to win that race. Was Germany! Obviously the year after she was travelling to London for the Olympics and as my home country of course I came with her as it tied in nicely to my summer break. After that she was the one that convinced me to make the move to Mercedes and apart from proposing to Y/N that’s probably the best thing I’ve ever done” he admits.

“Woah, what a lovers story obviously prior to that, Y/N you were in a if you don’t mind me saying quite a pressured and dare I say toxic relationship with ex partner Hunter?” She asks and you nod looking down for a second before feeling a squeeze on your hand in reassurance.

“I mean it shows it better in the film that I can get into words, but I was very young and naive. I looked for anything that would give me the slightest bit of affection which I would often just confuse with attention. And of course that came from someone who was older than me, and knew how to take advantage of me, without it ever feeling like he had I’ll intentions because I was so desperate to feel. Lewis has thought me many things but being loved the right way is the best thing” you smile looking to your soon to be husband with pure love, no other intentions just two souls mingled together as they should be.

“Really a beautiful couple and a beautiful story, just is heartwarming finding out what you’ve been through and how Lewis has helped break those walls you spent years building. I’m so excited to see this movie, and everyone at home watching this is your sign to get to your local cinema and buy a ticket for In your Dreams: The Story of Y/N Y/L/N ” she smiles.

You nod beofre saying a polite goodbye and heading off.

You answer some more questions, some about the movie some about your goals for 2024 in Paris if you’ll get your 5th gold medal for Team France, some were as trivial as what and who you were wearing.

“God, I just want to go home to Roscoe now” you sigh as you enter the theatre, going to get some treats for you and Lewis while the movie is on.

“I know baby, just a little longer. Then we can get started on our wedding planning hmmm?” He asks looking over you and making you smile and pull him into a passionate kiss, teeth clashing and you pulling him in by the nape of his neck.

You walk past some critics giving them smiles and some small talk before they let you on your way.

You eventually sat with Lewis at the front row will all the cast and directors next to your guys as the film came up on the screen.

It was everything you’d envisioned. Tear jerking, heartwarming and moving. Lewis was brought to tears and many others in the theatre who didn’t know the full extent of your story were coming up to you after the film talking to you about your life and how your success had a whole new meaning to them now.

y/user

Liked by lewishamilton, nicorosberg and antonia.desplat

y/user: I’ve loved you since I was 19, now that I’m 32 and engaged to you, I wouldn’t want my life any other way. I love you Lew ♥️.

Thank you so much for paramountpictures making my story come to life in the new movie In your Dreams: The Story of Y/N Y/L/N

Tagged 12 People

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paramountpictures: truly amazing to bring your story of strength, resilience and success to life.

-> y/user: thank you for putting your heart and souls into this project it really is magical 💥 Also thank you too, all of the actors and actresses in the movie antonia.desplat who did a fantastic job!

-> antonia.desplat: thank you for giving me this opportunity. This movie has been my big break as a struggling French actress! Merci Du Fond Du Coeur 🇫🇷♥️🥐

lewishamilton: I love you with all of my heart. I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved this far and am proud to say I’ll be in your life for the remainder of your future successes and achievements. Je vous aime! 🐻❤️

-> y/user: Sir Lewis Hamilton - the man you are 🫶🏼

nicorosberg: that picture is so old, I took this years and years ago!

-> y/user: Nico Rosberg the OG Y/N-Hamilton shipper 🫶🏼

Instagram Story Caption:

Back on the grind 😮‍💨

Taglist:

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[thekristen999]

✨2023 writing round-up✨

I enjoyed seeing @exhuastedpigeon 's write-up and thought I'd post mine :)

I wrote 97k words in 2023. Which is more than I thought! I struggled with finding time to be creative this year. My RL has been such a chaotic ball of stress. But things are getting better, and I think my Muse will be more exited to come out and play this year!

February

bro·ken 32k

This was my favorite story I wrote this year. It’s dark, gritty, and a deep exploration of what would have happened if Eddie and Buck hadn’t meet until the S3 timeline. With both guys at rock-bottom and how they find each other to heal.

.

bro·ken

adjective 1. having been fractured or damaged and no longer in one piece or in working order. 2. having given up all hope; despairing.

Forced to take shady side jobs to pay his bills, Evan Buckley doesn’t think he’s ever seen such rock bottom. Until he meets Eddie Diaz, a man even more desperate and alone. Season 3 AU.

March

Not Today 2k

A coda to the lightning strike that uses those events to explore Eddie’s encounters and emotional understanding of death.

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Eddie propelled himself up the ladder, shutting off those parts of brain he refused to listen to, only focusing on how fast he could climb, how hard he tried pulling on Buck’s safety line, until finally, he gave in to the only logic he was willing to consider.

What Buck needed; Eddie couldn't provide.

(Eddie and his battles with death and dying)

We’ve Got Fun & Games  7k

I wrote humor? :) It was a great fun to have the 118-taking part in a mini version of the Amazing Race and all the shenanigans that follow during a contest across the city.

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"Um. You trained for this?” Ravi asked.

Eddie released a long-suffering sigh. "We trained. Every day. For a month.”

Buck could not believe his ears. Did they not grasp the glory of the great adventure before them? He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Running across the scorching plains of Africa, bolting down the steep steps of Shanghai, diving straight into synchronized swimming routines with Olympic athletes in Moscow. These are only a few obstacles we might encounter during…The Amazing Race."

Bobby frowned. "This is for charity.”

Buck spread out his arms to encompass the couple hundred people mingling around the park. "And it’s against all the other firehouses in the city. We do have a reputation to uphold."

April

Tick...Tick...Boom 3.6k

A very intense story on the dangers first responders face during a call gone wrong.

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“Eddie,” Buck warned.

He started to say something else when the door cracked open.

A woman poked her head out, her voice shaking. “Yes?”

“Are you alright ma’am?” Eddie asked.

The question was rhetorical. Blood dripped down her chin from a busted lip, her puffy face framed by the beginnings of two black eyes.

“I’m fine. Is there, um…,” A shadow loomed. Her trembling hand gripped the door frame harder. “How can I help you, officers?”

“We’re with the L.A. Fire Department,” Eddie said, his voice calm. “We really need to come in. It’ll just take a moment.”

The woman glanced behind her, whispering, “I can’t…. I’m trying….”

The shadow retreated.

Eddie stuck his foot under the door, slowly pushing it open as he eased his way inside. “It’s okay. We’re here to help.”

May

We All Fall Down  3.5 k

I wanted more from the finale. Like the skeleton was there, but I needed more details and bit more logic.

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He’d done this before. Inside the well. Trapped forty feet underground instead of in a tin can, rising water the constant threat.

Eddie stared at the radio, knowing this time there’d be someone on the other end to hear him if he needed to say something. If his time his second chances had finally run out.

He wouldn’t die alone. Not really. His team would be there. Just inches away. He could tell them, tell Buck….

(A nuanced re-working of the events of the episode to satisfy certain wants and needs)

August

Cutting The Ties That Bind 34.K M

I wrote something that wasn’t a hurt/comfort or an angst fest! It had lots of sexual tension, drama, and meaty plot. I love world-building.

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Evan Buckley was a businessman, he had meetings and deadlines like everyone else. Sometimes he used intimation. While using the very same tactics he was trying to end while converting his family business into legitimate operations was a little hypocritical, it was the results that mattered.

Occasionally, he got threatened, but it was usually all hot air and ego. That all changed the day his breaks were tampered with. Enter Eddie Diaz, security specialist, who was not easily impressed by Buck’s expensive suits or financial conquests. That was okay. Buck enjoyed a challenge.

(The Mafia AU)

November

Follow You Into The Dark  14k

I had a need. I wanted to put both Eddie and Buck in the worst possible situation where they literally had to depend on the other in ways they had never before.

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Buck kept a firm grip around Eddie’s arm as he was guided down hallways. They’d both experienced something like this before during the Academy: cadet’s exercises where both teammates were blindfolded and forced to depend on the other to escape burning buildings. This wasn’t unlike that experience, except of course this was real and Buck’s freaking eyes were swollen shut and Eddie was concussed and deaf.

(Or a serial arsonist terrorizes the city, plunging Buck and Eddie into a dangerous game of cat and mouse.)

[disbabeled]

God I really fucking hate the Tiktokification of mental illness.

DID isn't "I have fun little characters in my brain to talk to".

I am so sick of seeing disorders that cause me real, painful suffering played around with as being UwU ✨️quirky✨️.

I hate looking for online support systems after being taken in by the police because I was found near catatonic sitting in the middle of a busy street at 3am with a knife to my throat and immediately being greeted by some 14 year old with three different Goku "alters".

And then the irony when you call it out and people jump on you for being ""ableist"". As if role-playing with a serious disorder that causes people so much stress and trauma isn't even remotely wrong.

I have a near perfect memory otherwise and to have massive chunks of my life that are just missing is fucking awful. I have no idea what I said or did and people have full freedom to claim I did something during those times that I didn't. They can literally tell me I beat them senseless and I have no way of knowing if I did or not.

I'm constantly cleaning up the messes that other parts leave behind. My gecko is missing after an episode and I have no idea what happened. Did he just escape? Did I release him? Did I kill him? I don't think I'm capable of that but I DONT KNOW. That's the problem.

I just wish there was even one space I could find where I didn't have to see some kid roleplaying about their "inner world" Olympics drama or some shit. I need help. I need support. And there's literally nowhere I can go.

[chicago-geniza]

Many of you have followed me for years, some of you for as long as 13 years, since my very first blog. You know my wheelhouse, how I write, the subject matter I return to over and over, how I express my thoughts, yeah? Okay. So. Having read this excerpt three (3) times, my brain is still struggling to process that I did not write it. I mean--"No one can sincerely assert words whose meaning she knows will be garbled by the lexicon of her interlocutor"?! I am not saying this to assert identification, I am saying this to express a true experience of Unheimlich deja vu that is, honestly, a little bit disconcerting!!!!!!:

"In the case of The Events, you are eager to assign victim status to me; in the case of The Fact, you are wary of assigning it to me. For you, there is only one question: how much suffering can she legitimately lay claim to?

You are so busy trying to answer this question — trying to serve as judge in the pain/suffering/disadvantage Olympics — that you cannot hear anything I am trying to tell you. And that means I can’t talk to you. No one can sincerely assert words whose meaning she knows will be garbled by the lexicon of her interlocutor."

[lemonpixycat]

Examples of types of people that are fucking annoying: The "Shut up, other people have it worse than you" crowd that believes mental illness can be cured by the suffering Olympics and if you aren't suffering the utmost then you lose the 'right' to be struggling mentally. I can tell you as someone who struggles with mental health issues that it 100% does not work that way. There's literally several genocides going on and strangely enough, the knowledge that these people are suffering more than I am has not cured my broken brain. Still struggling with suicide ideation, though now it has increased due to the knowledge that I live on a planet where there are multiple genocides going on. Strange, I know.

[heraadora]

Things That Are Controversial About Me That Might Get Me A Follow or Unfollow:

I don't support Gold Star Lesbianism. A type of Lesbianism that defines Lesbianism as something that is pure and didn't have any period of comphet at all in any circumstances. I don't think you are some true homosexual, you just got lucky you were born in a place where you knew what the word "Lesbian" meant and was not somewhere the mere mention of "Lesbian" - could get you beaten up. I wanted to marry women when I was 5 years old and I didn't even know what "Lesbian" even meant, all I remember is mom telling me you can't do that, it's a bad thing. So - growing up I fantasized being with men and never liked them beyond wanting attention and social validation. Your existence that you pride on being fully devoid of men is a existence of privilege to me.

I am a Radical Feminist Separatist. I don't support women who willingly date men after calling themselves feminists and involving themselves in feminist activism. Let alone calling themselves misandrists or radfem. Clowns.

I am Trans Inclusive in my Feminism, my focus is heavy on Transsexuals of South Asia.

Lesbians are more oppressed than any other minority in the L-G-B-T-Q1234567 community. And yes, they are more oppressed than Bisexual woman. - "Is it like some oppression Olympics-" -Yes it is and Lesbians are winning. Shut up and Get out if you disagree. - "All of us are oppressed by the Cishets -" All of us are oppressed by the cishets and lesbians are oppressed by both Cishets and By other Queer People. It's not a shock that Lesbians are treated as a last stage outcast from Pride Parades to Lesbian Bars even. All of us are oppressed, it's just lesbians are oppressed like a subhuman. So No, Thank You but I disagree.

I will let a Trans Man call himself a Lesbian if he looks like a Lesbian and acts like a Lesbian. The definition of Lesbianism doesn't need to involve "attraction to men" or "Lesbians can be attracted to Men" -this kind of bullshit for all that. Lesbians don't like men. Full Stop.

I am starting to look into the whole feminist perspective on male celebrity worship culture and it's patriarchal origins, effects etc. I don't have a strong opinion on this yet because I still don't know much about it, but I can get annoying sometimes with my little knowledge. So, if you are just trying to Simp over your Fave Oppar or Something and I randomly drop some unpleasant fact about him being Misogynistic or a Sex offender, or Racist etc. - you have been warned.

I tried to force myself to like men and I couldn't. This.. will be hard for me to talk about as the impact is still fresh- but I forced myself unironically find men attractive. Since I already suffered from Comphet and Sexual Orientation OCD - I actually thought it would be easy for me to find men attractive. It wasn't and in fact it didn't help. It left me feeling frustrated and a bit empty instead. I tried to do self conversion therapy on myself. I tried to look up pictures of men and tried to find something attractive about them. I simply couldn't. I didn't stop. Watched Romantic Video Edits of Straight Couples and I only could look at the Girl. I forced myself to look at a bunch of Naked Pictures of Men and all I felt was Vomit growing up inside my mouth. They are very gross and disgusting and repulsive. And I started to see some of those men I forced myself to like molesting me in dreams. That's the point where I stopped cause I was scared of my brain at that point. I even put "Bisexual" on a secret Tumblr account of mine, as a lie and then removed it because I was feeling weird and strange. I just didn't mention anything at all about myself in the end.

Why did I do it ? Because - I don't wanna be a Lesbian, I wanted to like men. Even just a little bit. Even if I am not gonna date them anyways, I wanted to like Men. Women like men. Most of them do, even the Gay ones. They like women who likes men and talk about Men with them. Everyone, including Gay People. Queer people don't like Lesbians. I wanted to assimilate and belong to at least in the Queer Community. I wanted privileges that comes with being able to like Men. Privileges and humanity that society is willing to provide me with by being interested in men.

I failed in liking Men. I just don't like them- they are ugly and gross and I envy those who do.

I mentioned this useless fact about me to get to a point about something.

The point and fact of the matter is- I get very pissed off when people accuse me and literally every single Lesbian I ever encountered actually - of being "Biphobic" every time they try to talk about how being a Lesbian has Marginalized them a lot, a lot more than any of their Bisexual counterpart. As if Lesbians need to lie through their teeth about the fact that they are getting treated like absolute shit by almost everyone in everywhere in order to not make their Bisexual friends feel "Excluded" - a minority which is literally included in every single part and corner of the Queer Community. As long as a Lesbian plays -"We are all oppressed the Same" - She is Ok. They are a "Cool" one. Once she decides to open her mouth and talk about the reality about her marginalized existence - aha NOW ! This is a UGLY MAN HATING DYKE. The monster, the man hating subhuman. Boom.

Yk, I am not writing all this paragraph to get pity party or sympathy. I already got a lot of them. I am some lesbian who lives in a country where my existence is illegal. I can't guarantee if I will be able to get out one day or just kill myself before that. I don't like my existence. It wasn't like that before. But the constant dehumanization lead me to hate myself. So kindly don't bother being worried about me, I shouldn't matter to anyone for any of this. All I want is for people to listen to what I have to say carefully.

I don't want any other lesbian to feel like this about their existence. And it's just not gonna happen if the whole Queer community stops acting dumb and obtuse about how Lesbophobic their community actually is. Start by stop calling Lesbians Biphobic or Overreacting every time they wanna talk about how they are more oppressed and marginalized than Bi woman or complain about pride stores keeping every single flag and then not even keep one lesbian flag. Stop taking personal level offense when they call a Guy you like Ugly or Misogynistic - they are very definitely just telling you the truth and it shouldn't be on lesbians to deal with your cope about it. Listen to them talking about getting hate crimed by other Queer Men or Cishet Man of a Queer Woman in a Queer Inclusive Space without feeling the urge to call them Biphobic.

Lesbians shouldn't only be talking and crying about getting correctively raped for you to think Lesbophobia is a serious issue when you all consider calling the bf of a Bisexual Woman Ugly some form of hate crime.

Anyways, long post, but the end. Good job if you finished it.

[ker18]

A Beautiful Disaster (1)

Hello, the little thing below is a creation of the little things plaguing my mind. It's a lot of angst and unrequited love. I just needed an outlet to dump all the feelings into. I am in no way claiming that these circumstances are real or that I personally know what is happening. This is purely a work of fan fiction, made by a suffering soul. Also, I wrote and proofread this all on my own... Please be gentle with me...

My intension is not to harm... just to be able to express...

______________________________________________________________

There was so much going on around me. An incessant buzzing of media, people talking over each other, smells assaulting my deeper senses, even the steady dab of the fine hairs on the powder brush making me feel uneasy. My stomach suddenly felt tangled and queasy, making me noticeably groan in discomfort.

“Are you okay?” That stilling familiar voice broke through my light distress.

I turned to the speaker, meeting the soulful brown eyes that I had grown acquainted to but never tired of – never used to. The look given to me was one of genuine concern and worry.

“Yes… I’m fine,” I quickly retorted, just to ease a bit of the stress. I looked away just as soon as the words left my mouth, giving off a stiff smile.

I looked away because, one, I could feel the flush in my cheeks deepen, two, I felt those eyes boring through me as if they were staring into my soul, and three, my heart was in the running for either an Olympic gold medal or a place in the Guinness Book of World Records for the most somersaults performed in under a minute. Usually, I was able to contain these emotions quite well, giving off enough, but never more. But recently, there were just instances where I would slip up and get lost in translation – this was one of those moments. I’d hate to admit it, but these were becoming more frequent as the days went by, getting me in deeper trouble than I’d ever dared to be in.

What alarmed me most was point number two – when those russet orbs would just seek me and threaten to uncover every inch of truth that I’d carefully masked behind walls of smiles and laughter. On one side, I knew I loved the attention; craved it, even… on the other hand, I felt like a deer in headlights, screaming for a quick way out. For three long years, I had carefully hidden behind my snide retorts, witty jokes, and carefully planned words. All of my careful disposition was now in imminent peril as the owner of the most breath-taking pair of brown eyes drew me in, confided in me, and shared life with me, everyday becoming a bigger lifebuoy of comfort in a sea of emotional turmoil, shoots, tiring scripts, and indignant conferences – but beside this was danger.  

Somehow, it all became routine at some point, getting me lost in the lull. All that changed were venues, timings, people, views, scents, and seating. They would have us perched beside each other, always within finger’s breath away, so close, and to me, still so far. The steady stream of questions thoughtfully placed to bombard us. The answers all stitched and rehearsed, armoring me with the skill to ’give a little’ but not too much.

“Keep them on the edge of seat,” was the advice.

But, I WAS ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT! More times recently than before as some of the questions became more pointed and sharp. Sometimes, my heart would win over my brain and the feelings would come tumbling out, a sea of murkiness. I tried wading through some of these sticky situations, and with your help, I would mostly emerge victorious. I would look into your eyes and the solutions would just flow. You’d get me… We’d survive. But it wasn’t just me… sometimes, human errors still befell you and you’d give in. But that was a part of our perfect dynamic.

I loved your eyes… the way the light would dance off of them when you smiled, the way your milk chocolate hues would glisten with fresh tears when you were upset, the sheen of wisdom and wit, the mischievous glint of mirth and youth – these were the things that made my day… Your gaze was where I’d love to spend my hot summer days, the kaleidoscope of autumn, the dead of winter, and the wetness of spring. Your eyes were the beacon of your soul – a soul that you so openly offered to me. But, I’m sorry to have to say this… I also hate your eyes…

The commanding way you’d stare at me to reprimand me, the stern pierce when I did something to upset you, the way you’d know each and every emotion in my feeble heart just by the way I would bite my lip or flip my hair. The subtle way you’d say you care just with a wink, the lies that my person would fabricate when you’d say you love me with our secret glances. I hate it all. It made me vulnerable to you. It made me hope… it made me want…

‘Coz why should I want for more, right? I’m merely just a friend. I’m merely a colleague. I am just someone who needs you as much as you need me to get by, right? These were the constant thoughts that kept running in my already occupied brain… and thus…more distractions.

On days when we weren’t together, my churlish heart would still be with you, my thoughts a myriad of opportunities we could be doing together- laying on the couch, indulging ourselves in piles of guilty pleasures while binging on our favorite shows, eating at a fancy restaurant with the people we hold precious to us, or even just lazing around on your bed, under the sheets, staring at the ceiling, familiarizing the shadows that would shroud us as twilight rolled in.

Sunrises were my favorite. The first streak of light that would permeate through the curtains as the sun made its presence known to a slumbering world. I loved to watch as the silent intruder would make its way across your bedroom floor, to land gently on your dozing face – so calm, sweet, and undisturbed by the world’s torments. Then you’d stir, your eyes would flutter open and for a moment, as they focus, the browns turn into hazel embers in the glowing light. Then, you’d see me, give me a lop-sided grin, and shyly cover your face. The giggles that escape me then were always alarm bells in my head, making me think a zillion times before progressing with my next move. Then you’d encompass me in your warmth and everything would just be still… for a couple of minutes.

Midnights were a different story. The way your clever orbs would prod into mine, learning my thoughts, replying to my reactions, burning through my carefully constructed gates without deeming permission. Midnights were maddening – your hands in mine, stolen touches, fleeting moments, unspoken words. Did you feel it too? Were we ever on the same plane? Was this ever more than just platonic?

‘Coz I could swear you felt it too. The way you would shield your gaze from mine in when emotions rode out, the way you’d turn around in the heat of a moment, the way you’d fix a strand of my hair in a crowd of people, or even the way you’d single me out in room with just a single call of my name, as if it was your lifeline and mantra. Bitter-sweet is how I felt about this. I wanted you to always call me, look for me, depend on me, and want me. But I also felt the immense confusion and turmoil when I’d hear your silky voice and see your stunning eyes.

You were, are, probably will still be my drug… more potent than morphine… more deadly than potassium chloride. You’ve seeped into my pores, buried yourself in my heart, and infiltrated my every thought – waking or not. There were moments that would run slow-mo, a polychromatic slide of uncertainty and haze that would leave me breathless, but wanting nothing to do with air, if air would wake me from this daze. And in these times, sometimes, I would see you… I would see you seeing me break and bend to your will. And you would break with me… And then, it passes. Back to reality.

Was that all there is to it? Were we just fictitious characters set out to dominate the world, but never conquering our own? Each quest just a mission to bring happiness to some poor wretched soul, seeking refuge from the tired world of the forsaken? Uncouth as it may sound, I am a tired world. Tired of living for something I want to believe in. Tired of braving my flaws but asked to hide away. Tired of wanting and needing, but only allowed to fiddle with the wrapper. Tired of having to suppress and repress every fantasy that there could be something – that there is something, more tangible than air.

As I sat, keeping my sights to myself, mulling over these musings and plastering a scourged smile on my face, you pestered me sweetly. Your voice, the incontestable balm to the chaos, but also the sharpest needles piercing through my fractured armor. I watched you secretly as you fiddled through your wretched phone when it chimed the alert of a message received from an unknown source. I saw the distinctions run across your face as you scanned through. I decided not to want to read into it. No more… I sighed and focused back on myself in the mirror, mask back on, seeming unfazed.

I told myself that my resolve wouldn’t shatter… I swore that I wouldn’t let you see me crumble. I promised that I would be okay, I would just let everything go, let it all just fall below the surface. Because, I know you felt the same way, somehow, but your courage wasn’t on par with wherever your heart lay. I want to believe that I’d given up… I wanted to say that it’s going to be easier to let go. But as you made your way to me, solemnity in your beautiful regard, I felt my heart tumult to heights unheard of. As you wrapped your arms around me from behind, your face seeking comfort on the crook of my neck, breathing me in, mayhem ensued in my chest. I knew that all the lies I’d built to protect myself from how I felt about you were now a Jenga tower about to crumble down as you picked my weakest slab to pull.

“Hey… we’re okay, right?” You ask, uncertainty and fret tainting your words.

I breathed in, closed my eyes, felt my heart shatter to a million pieces, wiggled away to create a bit of space before meeting your eyes in the mirror – mine the perfect depiction of undaunted. I wished I was answering for more. I smiled at you.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

I knew you somehow saw through the cracks as you touched my cheek with your hand, “You know I’ll always be here for you, right? You can talk to me.”

I leaned into your touch, partly to satisfy my craving, and partly to sell you the façade, then distanced myself abruptly.

“Come on. We’re going to be late,” I cheerfully called out to you as I stood by the doorway.

You reached for my hand as you stood up, a grin on your face, but the shadow of a doubt in creeping in the corners of your eyes. As your fingers intertwined with mine, I felt the pull in my heart as I let you touch me. Your lips drew close to my skin as you reached in for an innocent kiss on my cheek and something in my core gave way, making me crack out a soft gasp, which I hid with a cough and slight shuffle of my feet, seeming nervous. You bought that and smiled encouragingly at me. Fact of the matter was that, I felt those lips on mine, my brain crawling with all the scenarios where we spent trying to perfect the art in the comfort of rehearsals and a screen.

I wished it were different. I wished the kisses meant more for you, impacting you as it did me. I wished the lies weaved weren’t of those concealing the way we actually felt. I wished I knew what went through your mind every time you actually saw me. I wished you’d just let go of your reserves. ‘Coz your words and deeds were still an oasis where I could retire to, your arms a safe space that held me at my weakest, and your eyes held my truth, your laugh the music to my ears. It was the most exhilarating and terrifying concept I’d ever had to undergo, one I barely understood. But then again… who was I? I’m merely just a friend. I’m merely a colleague. I am just someone who needs you as much as you need me to get by, right? Maybe… I should just leave it at that?

[airi-p4]

Would you tell me about the Lukanette Figure Skating Au and Missing Multimouse? 👀

kandlasndljasndlg LAUREL-- I WON'T SHUT UP ABOUT THESE 2 XD

Firts: what can I tell you about Lukanette figure skating that you all don't know already? 😆 

This story has 2 chapters posted so far. It's called 'Ice dreams' but the title could change in the future. You can read it HERE:

The story is about Marinette, a talented figure skater who is considering retirement after the bullying she suffers, along with the lack of good results and money struggles; and Luka, who is forced to retire from pairs skating the moment Juleka's eating disorder comes to light. Not wanting either of them to retire, Juleka suggest they should team up as a pair in 'pairs skating' and continue skating towards their dreams, their final goal being GOLD medal at winter Olympics. They'll go through competitions, misunderstandings, meet new people (both friends and rivals) and... could love spark between them...? I think you know the answer, but it's slow burn sorry 🙈

I'd say my brain may be not big enough for this one... WHY? Because I have 60+ chapters planned... And I keep thinking about it very often, but it mostly stays in my head. I really want to work on it tho!! And draw a few pics for it too!! I've already written Alya and Lila chapters and I'm excited to share them. I just need to finish the previous chapters... And bring out some confidence and develop better writing skills... ^^;;;;

I've also sketched a mini comic about them, but I'm planing to share yet? We'll see :P

_____

And about Missing multimouse.... (Should be called 'Missing Multimice', actually) I haven't written it yet but I LOVE the idea:

Luka lives alone, far away from the village and his family and, one day, he meets a little Multimouse. She has no memories but she's very creative and starts helping Luka out with crafting instruments (what he does for a living). Some time passes until, to their surprise, they meet with another Multimouse. This 2nd Multimouse, has no memories either, but she knows there's more Multimouse out there and that they are actually the same person, and can reverse the multiplying spell if they meet again. They keep meeting more of them, and every Multimouse has her own skill and piece of memory. Together, they are a whole. Knowing that, Luka and Multimice go on a journey in order to find the rest of Multimice, recover her memories and help her go back to her original self.

You know? I'm loving these ideas but I'm not confident in my writing skills lately... So idk, I'm considering turning everything into sketch comics. It's frustrating but I'm not giving up! I'll do it!! 😤

Thank you for your ask, Laurel 💙💙💙

[queerasaurus-rexx]

i think about rosemary kennedy a lot.

i think about how her family lobotomized her and then just

left her in that facility for years, never checking on her, never writing or visiting. just abandoned her. how, even when she was allowed to visit her family, they never told anyone who she was (her sister eunice, who founded the special olympics, straight up told people rosemary was just a disabled person she allowed to swim in her pool.)

(putting the rest under a read more bc this shit can be triggering. mentions of asylums, cruelty, death of infants. you know. the stuff of a mentally ill person's nightmares.)

i think about how it wasn't that long ago that the last asylums closed or were converted into mental health facilities (google says 1997 in america but) and how the fear of those places is still prevalent in the minds of mentally ill people.

i think about how my father was dead certain he had an older brother who was just 'put away' and never spoken about, and a little brother who died of sids but they were never 100% on that because smothering babies with birth defects or visible autism or down's syndrome was just

a thing some people did at that time and it was really hard to differentiate sids from smothering.

i think how i was born in 1998 and if i had been born earlier, there was a very real possibility that i could have been locked away like rosemary kennedy. like those thousands of people locked away in those facilities or

or that uncle who is never mentioned by anyone in my dad's family because mental illness was so stigmatized people would straight up pretend the mentally ill people in their family weren't fucking real.

i think about in today's world, psychology terms are all over the internet. discussion of mental illness is an every day thing.

and yet,

we're still afraid of those men in white coats.

we're constantly making media about people in asylums, exploring those deep-seated fears. almost needing to assure ourselves that we aren't 'too crazy'.

conspiracy theories abound about certain pieces of media being all in the main character's head as a trauma response. as a society, we're almost

obsessed, maybe, with the concept of psychosis. we want to explore the darkest parts of our psyche.

and part of me can't help but see this, the exploration of the psyche, as a response to those old ideas of hiding the dark parts of your mind, of pretending those things, and the people who suffer them. don't exist.

i think about the outrage people speak about rosemary kennedy with. about how angry people get when they learn what her family, once revered as an icon of all-americanism, did to her. i think about how it changes people's view of her family.

i think about the reason given for her lobotomy was 'seizures and violent mood swings'

of which, i have suffered both. my father suffered both. i wonder, sometimes, if i had been born earlier

'would i have been lobotomized? or would i have just been left in a facility, never spoken about. would i have become like my uncle?'

and that makes me wonder.

how many of my relatives, my ancestors

were put away? were locked away and never mentioned again, because that was just what they did back then?

i think about how many of my ancestors were like me

who had difficulties managing their emotions, who wanted to just

scream. a lot. because there was so much happening in their brains all the time. who had difficulty socializing because they overshared or split on people and didn't know how to manage that.

i feel

connected to them, in a way that i don't otherwise feel.

i don't know. maybe i'm rambling.

i just think, sometimes

we forget how far we've come.

[starfruit-baby]

Tell me about markusverse please!!!

HIII thank you so much for asking and im sorry it took me long to respond and i forgot what i had in mind when i said that but i promise the markus brainrot never ends </3 i dont have any structured and coherent thoughts/like a full length thing but i can tell you about the at least 3 different things i keep rotating in my brain? its been mostly about Markus and his relationship/influence both to and from those around him (and just general traits of him that make my heart soft)

like, im clearly still fairly new to the DB:H universe, there's a lot i dont know and dont know how to look for, but i think a lot about his journey and the framing of it (?) our introduction to him in game is about subjecting him to the hostility of the current world (even if you avoid every obstacle, hes still gonna look around despite no other android doing so at the bus. and tbh i think the usage of The back of the bus as metaphor is distasteful, i end up seeing it as a mishandled choice of convenience to present the point) , but the moment he's stepped into the luxurious mansion and gets to smile and (very softly) talk back to his owner, it's like he never suffered anything? Carl always encourages Markus to make his own decisions, think his own thoughts, but once his neglected son threatens Markus to the death, Carl orders him to not defend himself (not even 'dont hurt him', but specifically 'dont defend yourself'. foul imo)

more than once Markus has the prompt to muse about his easier past life, and obviously, compared to others, he wasn't suffering as much, but it never should be 'oppression olympics'. Even if he had the easiest life an android could lead, he's not wrong for looking around him, observing unfairness, and wanting to put an end to it, whether it comes from empathising or sympathising. he's not technically wrong for believing he was a slave, as he was programmed to do tasks he had no option to avoid unless he broke away from his programming and be considered a menace, a deviant. he could never say 'i won't do that'. but at the same time, it's completely understandable that he mourns good aspects of his past, its not unnatural from abuse.

even if i dislike one route over the other, i kinda enjoy that they both 'make sense' from the character he is. whether it's from the hopeless belief that he can appeal to humans in a palatable language to them, or if it's calling for enough and taking matters to his own hands by whatever means he can manage, no matter the cost

[horsesandhockeyplayers]

I posted 1,747 times in 2022

384 posts created (22%)

1,363 posts reblogged (78%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@horsesandhockeyplayers

@starshine-hockey-girl

@joeyisourranger

@laurenairay

@hockeymenorattractiveboys

I tagged 529 of my posts in 2022

#colorado avalanche - 81 posts

#mark barberio - 67 posts

#avs lb - 62 posts

#clemberio - 47 posts

#lausanne hc - 37 posts

#wlgyl - 32 posts

#nhl fic - 32 posts

#avs imagine - 31 posts

#colorado avalanche imagine - 31 posts

#when life gives you lemons - 31 posts

Longest Tag: 123 characters

#serving “mom returning from a work trip and just hoping the kids didn’t overrun her husband and tear the house apart” vibes

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

When Life Gives You Lemons-- Part 2

Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders, OCD etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail. These warnings are relevant to the whole fic not just particular chapters.

Word Count Chapter: 3663

Word Count Total: 7,949

Author's Note: Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Thank you SO much to @hockeylvr59, @newlibrary, @itisawitchesworld, and Nora, who I can't seem to tag. The rewrite of this fic wouldn't have happened without all of you. Thank you for indulging my impulsivity. All of you can see Mark in action during the upcoming Olympics! Reminder that this fic starts during the summer of 2019. I will be tagging the Avs and Lausanne HC. Also *~*~*~*~* means a POV change. Flipping between Mark and Clementine. Today we are beginning with Clementine.

Chapter 2

I rolled my eyes so hard I’m pretty sure I saw my own brain, but despite that, I ended up sliding down the wall and sitting next to him. Thanks to the tilt of the floor, I slid next to him until we were touching, shoulder to hip.

“Is it difficult being this dumb all the time or does it come naturally?” A warning blinked behind my eyes, Brain to Mouth Filter Failure.

His beard was short, but thick; despite it, I saw his lips curve into a smile. “Around you it’s effortless.” He paused before continuing, “You know you seem pretty unperturbed about being stuck in a leaning elevator with a certified moron.”

I offered an anemic shrug before continuing nonchalantly, “Ohh ‘unperturbed.’ Did you hurt yourself?” One of his thick eyebrows arched and he flashed a 1000 watt smile but didn’t dish the insult back which made the game less fun so I answered, “My world feels like it’s on fire all the time. I’ve had complete mental breakdowns because I accidentally used a blue pen in a journal that I only used a black pen in. Comparatively, this feels like no big deal.” It felt weird to share that personal detail with someone I found so annoying.

He nodded at Daze, “Is that what she’s for?”

A personal detail was one thing, spilling my entire life story was another thing completely and he must have picked up on my hesitation because he held out his hand and said, “How about we start over. Hi, I’m Mark Barberio.”

Ok. He WAS an idiot, but at least he seemed aware of his hoof and mouth disease. I gave his hand a firm grip and shake. “Clementine. Clementine Jones, and this is Daisy, but I just call her Daze.”

“She seems like a good service dog and not at all for a blind person,” he grinned like this was now our inside joke.

I rested my hand on her head thinking about the freedom she gave back to me and took a deep breath, “She’s the best.”

The conversation lulled and I’d be the first to admit that I let it die. We sat in silence for a few minutes before I had a thought. “Wait, you said you texted Gabe?”

His answer was a lazy nod of the head with a “mmhmm” that sounded like it reverberated in his throat.

“What is the likelihood of him making me suffer by association, simply due to the fact that I’m stuck in an elevator with you? Because I just met him today and he seems like a nice dude and I think we’re copacetic, but I could easily see him leaving you in a steel box for a few hours.” I flashed back to the mischievous glint in Gabe’s eyes earlier.

Mark just shrugged, “I don’t know, Lime, guess it depends on if he likes you.”

“Great.” I slumped harder against the wall. “Any chance you want to share that Wi-Fi password so I can contact some people so they don’t worry?”

A few taps on his phone and a notification popped up asking if I wanted to save the password to the Wi-Fi. As soon as I hit accept, my phone started buzzing so hard it almost fell out of my hand.

Nora: Hey, I’m running late. There was a thing with the room I’m painting. It looks NOTHING like the swatch and after sanding and refinishing the floors and having the paint not look good I had a little mental breakdown. FINE NOW.

Nora: Ok, I am 10 minutes late, but where are you?

Nora: Ok. I’m worried now. Did you get stuck at work? WHERE ARE YOU?

Nora: CLEMENTINE, THIS ISN’T FUNNY. I’M GONNA CALL 911. I’M GONNA GET CADAVER DOGS. WHERE ARE YOU?

The last one came in as I hit reply and tried to tap out a response faster than Nora could dial 911.

I’m fine! Stuck in an elevator with no service! I’m sorry. I just got on the Wi-Fi.

Nora: Oh, shit! Are you alone? Do I still need to call 911? Where are you?

I’m fine. You know I handle actual emergencies better than like… not being able to find my lucky socks.

Nora: This is true and you’ve conveniently ignored the “are you alone” question.

See the full post

102 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

#4

A Not So Southern Christmas-- Part 6

This is obviously a rewrite of my old fic. I have been feeling romantic and Christmasy, so I figured it was time to bring back my favorite holiday couple. Title banner by the wonderful @whatishockey. Thank you thank you thank you to the people who periodically peek at this fic to make sure I don't make too many typos and mistakes. @hockeylvr59 @rymurrsneckbeard and @princessphilly

Synopsis: When Adelaide Thibodeaux finds her husband to be diddling the wedding planner in the Church before their nuptials, she walks out and is determined to take her dream honeymoon by herself. Until she gets a seat upgrade to first class and ends up next to Hurricanes Defenceman, Joel Edmundson. Holiday shenanigans ensue.

Author's Notes: This was written in early 2019 before Eddy went to Montreal as a free agent. I will be tagging both teams. It's been a while since I've posted a dual POV so reminder that *~*~*~*~*~* delineates a change in POV. Today we are beginning with Eddy.

Tag List: @leafs-foreverr, @pagirl6866, @colecockfield If you would like to be part of the tag list, please let me know.

Part 6

*~*~*~*~*~*

Just over an hour later we were crawling along I-90 in an SUV the size of a tank. After the second close call of almost being sideswiped by another vehicle sliding on ice after a single mile on the interstate, I was thankful for it. It was a rideshare, so I didn’t care if it only got two miles per gallon, as long as it was able to get us to the airport in one piece.

Adelaide finally turned on her phone and I just arched a brow at her as it vibrated in her hand for what seemed like a solid minute while she looked annoyed, “You ok there?”

She gave me a withering glare, and she looked so cute that I couldn’t help but smile, which made her glare harder and the entire thing was just a circle of me being amused and her getting more furious. It was fantastic.

Poking around on the screen, a call connected and started to ring as she brought the phone to her ear. I could hear her mother’s voice on the other end of the line. “Hi Momma, is everyone there? Put me on speaker.”

I was thankful it was a regular voice call and not a facetime, because I knew her father would pinpoint the “I just fucked your daughter nasty" vibes wafting off of me from four states away.

“No, Adele, I'm not putting Eddy on speaker.” She sighed and dropped her phone to her lap, hitting the speaker button with her thumb. “FINE. Is everyone here?”

“Adelaide why are you in a car, it sounds like you’re in a car.”

She transferred the phone to her opposite hand as I stretched my arm across the seat and intertwined our fingers. “Eddy and I are going to the airport Mama, our flight leaves at one.”

Her father’s rich baritone chimed in, “I guess there’s a first time for everything, one of my daughters not being stubborn? I better buy a lottery ticket.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Daddy.”

“Eddy, son she IS going with you, correct?”

I cleared my throat, “Yessir, she agreed.”

“Good. Finally. Adele you’re next.”

Adelaide mouthed “I’m sorry” at me.

The conversation devolved from there. “What does that mean Daddy?” Adele sounded irritated.

“It means you need to stop being so stubborn and accept help and maybe find a good man.”

An argument started between the two of them, with Dottie interjecting at random times. There was something about college and Adele getting her Masters while working. Adelaide looked bored, like she had heard this argument before. She started massaging the palm of my hand with her thumb and staring out the window as her family argued.

Finally, Adele’s voice cut through the nonsense, “Addie and Eddy’s hotel room only had one bed!”

I caught the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror and I don’t think he felt at all sorry for my impending death.

Adelaide’s attention was suddenly diverted back to her phone, “ADELE! Daddy, there was one bed, but I slept on the couch.”

Her sister wasn’t to be swayed from her current path of turning the attention to Adelaide, “Daddy, I looked at photos of the suite, the couch was too small for anyone to sleep on.”

He sounded displeased, I was suddenly very aware the man owned a hardware store and all murdering/disposing bodies things were readily available and no one would blink twice at him having any of them. “Eddy made you sleep on the couch?”

Adele sounded breathless, “THEY WERE CUDDLING THIS MORNING.”

See the full post

110 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

#3

When Life Gives You Lemons-- Masterlist

Synopsis: Disabled OC and service dog get stuck in an elevator with Mark Barberio. Shenanigans ensue.

Word Count Total: 93K (this includes unposted parts)

Author's Note: Shout out to @newlibrary who has tirelessly created the graphics for this story. She's the true hero here.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Playlist

129 notes - Posted February 2, 2022

#2

When Life Gives You Lemons -- Part 1

Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail. These warnings are relevant to the whole fic not just particular chapters.

Word Count: 4286

Word Count Total: 4286

Author's Note: Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Thank you SO much to @hockeylvr59, @newlibrary, @itisawitchesworld, and Nora, who I can't seem to tag. The rewrite of this fic wouldn't have happened without all of you. Thank you for indulging my impulsivity. All of you can see Mark in action during the upcoming Olympics! Reminder that this fic starts during the summer of 2019. I will be tagging the Avs and Lausanne HC.

Chapter 1

“Ok, can you look at the camera please?”

The flash was blinding and while I appreciated the professional set-up, I couldn’t help but wonder if a nerd named Kevin with a cell phone and a white wall would be more efficient. This seemed excessive and far more painful. I found myself blinking to see if my retinas had detached.

The photographer fiddled with the settings for a moment, “Can we do one of your service dog too? I’d love to make her a little badge for her vest.”

I actually thought that was kind of cute, I doubt Kevin would have been as creative. “Sure,” I agreed, “Come on Daze.” I asked for a sit/stay on the little platform and waved a treat behind the photographer.

“Great, these are so cute,” The photographer declared. “What were your names again?”

I sighed, this was about to be awkward, “Clementine and Daisy.”

She blinked at me, her brain processing the names and trying to figure out who was the flower and who was the fruit. I took pity on her and clarified before she short circuited and smoke began to pour out of her ears, “I’m Clementine and the dog is Daisy.”

She sucked her lips into her mouth and nodded enthusiastically, perhaps to compensate for her previous reaction, “Um ok, give me just a second to get these printed.”

Within a few moments, she had handed us our badges and I had to admit the outcome was a little better than using some random nerd named Kevin with a cellphone. I attached the clip of the badge to the pocket of my jeans and Daisy’s to her service dog vest. I didn’t normally make her wear it, but it was my first day at the job I desperately needed and they had given me a chance despite my need for assistance so I wanted her to look the part.

Sports had always been one of my passions but I didn’t have an athletic bone in my body, so I embraced the rules, the stats, the analysis. Numbers had order and always made sense to me, but I just wasn’t quick enough to be a statistician. However, the very best thing about sports is all the numbers could make sense, but the underdog could still win. There was no way to measure luck, to measure a human being’s ability to dig within their soul to beat the odds. It was this, the human element, that attracted me to sports.

It was only after a nasty divorce, a complete mental breakdown, and facing the stark reality of starting my life over completely with nothing to show for a quarter century on the earth that I decided to go back to school, graduating with a Bachelor’s in Sports Communication.

Before that,I spent a year in and out of hospital psych wards, sedated while they tried to glue my brain back together. When that hell was over, I was forced to move back in with my parents, becoming their dependent again. I also got Daisy, a service dog to help me juggle depression, anxiety, PTSD, and all the medications I had to take in order to return to society as a semi functional person. With Daze’s help, I was able to go back to school and reinvent myself and now here I was, on the farside of 30 and almost human again. Truthfully, I had no idea what “normal” was but I had decided I was going to be it. I was going to be normal.

I was starting my life over from scratch, as a new college graduate old enough to be the parent of some of my classmates and a psych ward veteran who was probably the subject of several academic papers. I am the product of a really shitty emotionally and physically abusive marriage which left me with a slew of partly recovered emotional wounds, but all of that was still better than what I had been, as my therapist was constantly reminding me.

It had taken many strings pulled by my professors and, unfortunately, my father, the head basketball coach for Denver University, for me to get this job. Even then, I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t been given it because I checked the affirmative action box for being a disabled woman (double the diversity). And by job, I mean, this was a temporary paid internship gig and if the Avalanche executives liked my content the position would be created and then I could apply. Imposter syndrome was something I struggled with daily and my therapist had invested a great deal of time trying to teach me that it wasn’t nepotism, strings my father pulled in Denver, a hiring percentage, or a variety of other things that got me the job. The Avalanche Organization could have said no. They saw my academic projects and were curious enough to create this internship. It was up to me to keep it.

The makeshift photo studio was in the depths of Pepsi Arena, while Human Resources was several floors up in a part of the building that had windows. Having completed my surprisingly good staff photo with Not Kevin, Daze and I stood directly in front of the elevator ready to make our way up and navigate the next part of the new hire process. I was absentmindedly pressing the UP button as if that would make the car arrive faster when the ding sounded its arrival. I was completely unprepared for anyone to actually be inside the elevator, much less a herd of Avalanche players in full game regalia-- down to the blade covers on their skates.

I barely had time to register the half a ton of boisterous testosterone bearing down on us before Daze darted behind me to avoid being trampled. In surprise, I stepped back and felt one of her little furry paws under my heel. She gave a yelp and my knees buckled to avoid putting my full weight on her little toes.

Before I hit the ground, arms were around me and I found my face pressed firmly against the Avalanche logo covering a hard chest protector. To my credit, I managed to turn my head to avoid a bright red lipstick stain on the fabric of the jersey.

Daze whined as I was righted by the ridiculously strong arms I was wrapped in, and the chest I was pressed against stepped back, putting me squarely in front of my savior and his four compatriots. I blinked for a second as I got my bearings and tried to make my mouth move in a way that wouldn’t haunt me at 3 am a decade from now, but my savior spoke first, his voice quickly snapping me back into reality.

“Whoa, your hair is like… blue.” He sounded like the least intelligent frat boy I had ever come across and my nose wrinkled in distaste as I felt my eye twitch.

It was such an inane response that I forgot I was in front of a bunch of professional athletes, most of whom I watched on a regular basis and all of who could now get me fired on a whim. Now I will be the first to admit I put my foot in my mouth a lot; mostly, because there’s no filter going from my speech center to my mouth and I’m not ashamed to say, working in sports, I often felt like the smartest person in the room. “It’s actually more of a navy, but thanks for the commentary Captain Obvious.”

The four players who were mostly blocked by the pair of broad shoulders and helmet, took an audible step back, and so did the set of pads in front of me which was bad for my IQ. The first thing I noticed were his eyes which were the color of the hazelnut coffee I liked to drink in the morning. My face went slack and I promptly forgot everything I’d ever known, including my own name as I stared into their rich depths.

An accented voice that didn’t seem to be attached to a body floated across my vision, “Is she okay?”

“I think so?” The man standing in front of me waved a hand in front of my face.

Daze whined and I swallowed, the world coming back into focus. My voice sounded far away when I spoke, “I’m fine, we’re both fine.”

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144 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

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@hockeylvr59

232 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

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[thisandthat-whatever]

Since you talked about TW:suicide in your last post, I thought I could talk about this here, but I'll completely understand if it's a sensible topic and if you don't answer it [since you mentioned you had suicidal thoughts in the past, I don't wanna trigger anything]

I am from France, and there is a 23 years old french influencer called Olympe who became famous by talking about mental health (with over 600k on Tiktok, so she has a pretty big platform). At the end of January, she made a video saying she was planning on traveling to Belgium at the end of 2023 because assisted suicide is legal there (and not in France). She has been suffering from depression and DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) due to traumatizing events in her childhood, and said in her video that she can't take it anymore. She also said that she's not completely decided and maybe she'll change her mind by the end of the year, but for now, she wants to commit suicide.

This whole situation created a big debate in France about the legal system, and more generally about mental health, euthanasia and assisted suicide. Some people can't begin to understand how it's legal in Belgium and how some doctors are allowed and willing to do that. Some others claim that it's a personal choice that should be respected. I'm reading arguments from both parties and don't really know where to stand exactly. I wished our infrastructures and health system were better, I wished she could feel better. she stated times and times again she has thought about this so many times and no one can stand in her way. What's your thoughts about this ? From what I understand you're Turkish and living in the US right now, do you know what's the law there regarding this topic ? And if it's less taboo than here in France ?

I believe it is allowed in Oregon in US. But I don’t know if they allow it for mental patients or it is just for terminally ill patients (like stage 4 terminal cancer patients or Huntington’s disease sufferers etc).

I watched many documentaries on assisted suicide, including one in Belgium. In one documentary one 20-something Belgian girl wanted to die due to her depression. It took her years to get granted that (because like I said, they don’t always grant it for depressive patients) and once e granted she changed her mind, but then two years after changing her mind, she changed her mind yet again and went through with it.

Frankly. If I wanna die, and I can’t stand drawing one more breath and am adamant to want to end my existence, there is no good or bad way to die. People who really want to die can efficiently die by jumping from a 40 story building (most will succumb to heart attack before their body hits the ground) or hang themselves, etc.

I think when you are TRULY at that point mentally, you don’t even need assistance. You can not take one more breath and you want to end it in ANY way you can. But for the terminally ill patients who never had thought of suicide or dying until they were told “you have six months to live”, then they should be able to die before enduring any more physical pain through their illness. But depression or suicidality is such an impulsive state that your brain urges you to end it, and sometimes nearest bridge is way easier than to apply and wait for approval for euthanasia. So, I am not against suicidal people choosing euthanasia , but personally if I ever kill my self one day, I know I won’t seek assistance because I feel I don’t need to, not that I am against it.

As for that celeb, I don’t think her being that public about her desire to kill herself is a good thing for someone with that big of a following. It is a proven fact that suicide of famous people can trigger copycat suicides, just like how a suicide in family can trigger another suicide in the family. I am not saying a celeb should not kill themselves (and I HATE the notion that suicide is supposedly “selfish”. Asking someone to live in pain just for your sake is more selfish to me. It is her/his life and he/she can be “selfish” all he/she wants when deciding to end it). but what I am saying is if a celeb is going to kill themselves, they should not romanticize the notion to the public and share all the steps which may affect some impressionable younger followers of theirs. Most young suicide victims (in my opinion) die without truly grasping the finality of death. They treat suicide as an escape, not TRULY realizing it is the ultimate, final end.

Examples like that 21 year old guy who killed himself because he thought he lost a lot of money because he didn’t understand what his Robinhood brokerage account showed him and out of shame/guilt he killed himself and if he only waited for ONE more day to sort it out and realize he was not in debt, he would be alive now. Or the young teenagers who kill themselves over unrequited love or being bullied or not getting into the college they and their families expected them to, etc. All these “impulsive” deaths are sad and unnecessary to me because they really didn’t need to be suicides. Those were all very preventable and that is the sad part because they all acted on the impulse of desperation. … Sorry, went off track a bit here.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Reddit June  2022 (NSFW)

“The original Olympics were all nude.  The idea was to celebrate the human form.” “Totally gonna be watching for the erratically flapping penises!“ “Have you been washing your ass in the drinking fountain?“ “I can't poop without bidets“ “It's not gay when it's on a bidet“ “I want to see boobs, butts, and dongs. Bring them back please. Thank you.” “What about nude giant robots having sex?“ “You could just say you’re alone and people would invite you.“ “What a perfect place to kill somebody accidentally“ “ We’re all broken. Some are just more outwardly so.“ “Why is it always that dog?” “Only poor people melt horses to huff, the elite make glue and then huff that“ “Explain to me how shamans discovered that they can get high on fly agaric mushrooms without poisoning themselves if they feed it first to someone else and then drink their piss?” “I saw pure athleticism, focus and coordination. A finely tuned machine“ “It’s horrific and unsettling, and completely unrelatable.” “ All porn is the same nowadays. Step Mum gets stuck under a table she clearly isn’t stuck under and doesn’t shout rape when her step son starts 10 inch pile driving her uterus from behind. “ “ Porn has no plot holes that aren't filled. “ “If you don’t know CPR, just give them a good fling about.“ “ If you want to inflict the maximum pain you need to be patient. Torture can't be rushed. “ “Money can stretch the imagination, not 50 year old fabric.“ “ Look, I'm almost 30, everything about my biology is screaming to make babies.” “Maybe it's just me, but if someone has a pistol and I don't, I will generally try to de-escalate the situation.“ “Cut that thing as many times as your heart desires.” "That's not a baby, that's a dog, you fucking idiot!" “ As a loser who does not have a personal or social life, I still don’t want to work late. “ “I will suffer, and so will you.” “So my brain is a healthy, nutritious breakfast? Sounds lit.“ “I was being gallant” “I wonder at what point in a culture it becomes decided that ‘titty out’ is not acceptable?“ “Just a casual titty.“ “You can sit anywhere. . . except a chair.” “I can see myself getting seriously hurt with this, honestly.” “Holy fuck! That kid exploded.” “I’ve been told I’m more attractive when I don’t speak.” “Lemme see that man-ass.” “If you don’t mind looking a little slutty, put on a dress shirt and roll up the sleeves.“ “Slut Jesus, is that you?” “What if I have no forearm muscles?” “Grow your hair, show up to your date shirtless on a horse with a rose in your mouth.” “Walk around with your fly open. Show a little bit of ball. And if she complains, tell her your eyes are up here. Also tell her to stop sexualizing testicle-cleavage.” “It's a well known fact that women love unsolicited dick pics.” “Scratch my back.” “Sluts for back scritches unite.” “What an evil dog!” “Now you just look like a self centered prick.“ "If my feelings don’t matter, yours don’t either, you fucking asshole” “Can I question the logic of dropping the baby 4 feet first thing in it's life?” “ Don't stop swallowing just because you feel you don't have to prove yourself anymore.” “ Sir, that’s my fart you’re smelling” “How long does your perfume last? I’m wondering if I’ll still smell it later when you’re sleeping.” “Are you ovulating?  Because you smell delicious!” “ It's like a middle finger to feminism. “ “You've never been annoyed to tears?“ “I have so many ideas and no place to keep them.“ “You can do 3.4 mil worth of work but you can't do a single push up?“ “ Self-control is such a difficult concept in general. “ “Dude benzos are bad news“ “ I can’t tell if this child is mentally challenged or just British" “ All of the cruelty is done in the name of efficiency.” “Today you learned what "culling" means“ “ You wouldn’t steal a baby!” “ I nearly murdered someone with a Nintendo DS pen” “Stab them in the side of the thigh, that way you're less likely to kill them and it's easier to say it's self defense" “ My anus has never felt so hot. I have an ice pack between my cheeks right now.” “ How many rats are we talking about here?” “ Better rule: fuck bears” “Excuse me! Bear…bear fucker…do you need assistance?” “The anus is capable of stretching to 8 inches in diameter without permanent damage. A raccoon can fit in a hole that's just 4 inches.8/4 is 2, and thus I can shove 2 raccoons up your ass and leave no evidence.” “ Apparently we’ve been saving the wrong bees?” “ Oh, I see you rented a pineapple, ok fancy guy! “ “ Some things in life are so strangely comforting that we can’t help but stare like the crackling fire, the falling rain or the bubbling champagne.”

[lycheesouphq]

raccoons for brains & such matters

12/15/23

i think that i am a selfish person. what an intense starter to today's void-yelling session!! but yes it's true. i think that i am quite selfish..

i have walked on eggshells my whole life. i think that is to be expected when you grow up as an autistic child with reactive parental figures. the adults around me did not understand that my needs were not like other neurotypical kids or that i felt emotions in different ways than the general population. i think i grew up with a lot of shame intertwined with my very being, to the point where i cannot unravel my shame without unraveling my entire existence.

i learned very quickly that in order to survive i must learn how to read others. i must learn how to be vigilant and read into every single underlying message of every single word. i must know when my father's footsteps fall too heavily so that i can stay as quiet and unobtrusive as possible. i must know when there is a condescending undertone to a person's voice so that they cannot hurt me again. i must catch everything, because there is safety in knowledge. always one step ahead; i see everything so that others will never see me. it is only like this that i have been able to go as far as i have. my friends sometimes say that i am a very thoughtful person who always knows what to do or say. the truth is that the only reason i am able to read others so well and react accordingly is because i sacrificed all of my childhood to mastering the art of being good enough to keep.

as i grow older i cannot help but become resentful that others have not had to grow up so aware of their surroundings. this makes me feel such guilt. i do not want my friends to have suffered in their childhood, of course not. but there is a part of me that is angry that they are unable to read me as i read them. i send out little signals, little cries for help or bids or connection, that i see as glaringly obvious - if someone had said the same to me, i would've picked it up immediately. but my friends do not notice. this is no fault of theirs. this is all a problem of my own making - but a part of me, a horrible, vile, selfish part of me, cannot help but wonder why i must always be the one to conform. i have learned to express love in ways that are so foreign to me because it is the only way that others recognize. i have learned to talk a certain way and act a certain way so that i will not be misunderstood and potentially hurt others. why can't they learn my "unusual" way of communication just this once?? why must i always be the one to notice?? i want to be noticed, too. i want them to see me.

i do not mean to compete in the trauma olympics. all trauma is valid and incredibly complex in its own way. but i cannot help but feel just such intense resentment to the thought that the people around me will never be able to understand it. they may try, they may claim to have an idea or feel as if they do, but they never will. they will never know the weight of this vigilance. they will never understand how exhausting it is to be terrified

[neuromantis]

yeah.

you know what. i wonder. people always tell me i am trying to paint my life and past in a bad way. to win the suffering olympics and get pitied or something.

i think, shit happens. i had a lot shit happening. and my brain is unwell. and it particularly hates holding on to memories. i forget everything and anything. always. good times are usually gone in like a month. but what is a memory you're unlikely to lose? yeah, shit that fucked you up. and i am pretty sure i still lost some of those, because a lot of years of my life are blank to me.

in general. i am not trying to harsh the vibe. or get consoled. i just don't have better stories to tell, i guess.